Guy Talk: Enough With The Unprotected Sex Already!

I’m about one more “and then he came inside me” away from blowing my brains out.

I’m a sex enthusiast, perhaps even a connoisseur on the matter. I peruse publications about sex, participate in deep conversations on the act, and occasionally even engage in the monstrous business. But for fuck’s sake, if I have to read another article about unprotected sex, I’m going to jump off a bridge.

This all started a few years ago when I was reading Vice magazine, specifically the section “People Who Just Had Sex With Each Other.” It’s a column in which an interviewer talks to a couple who just had sex and asks them intimate questions about that particular love-making session. This one painfully hip couple were giving an account of their intimate nudie-sesh. They talked about the foreplay: touching each other’s business, licking each other’s things, fingering each other’s hoo-has. All normal stuff. Then the girl talks about how the guy came inside of her because she was on her period. They had just met the previous week, yet were already at the stage where they could, not only have period sex, but have unprotected period sex. Imagine taking the red ski lift into cream-village with a complete stranger like it’s not even a big deal. I just remember sitting back in my chair and thinking about all the new STD’s that could be swimming inside of their hipster bods.

I went through this a phase (a couple of times) where I was convinced I had AIDS. Mind you, I was having regular old, safe sex with a wonderful girl. She wasn’t the type who slept around, used drugs, or even put too much mayonnaise on a sandwich. She was wholesome and clean and we always used condoms, YET I was convinced that nestled inside of her was the SuperAIDS virus. My brain just decided to obsess over this thought. I worried myself sick. Literally. I started getting regular stomach pains, nausea, loss of appetite––you know, the symptoms of AIDS. Obviously, I got tested and passed with flying colors, but the whole experience left a foul, albeit morally sound, message in my head: be safe always.

So, anyway, there I am reading this article and thinking about how these two strangers could comfortably have unprotected period sex with each other without the fear of STIs and pregnancy that should be ingrained in everybody’s head at this point. What is it, like, one out of every four New Yorkers has some kind of STD crawling around their bloodstream? It’s not like this information is locked away in a wooden crate a la “Raiders Of The Lost Ark.” I fully understand my advantage of attending a liberal school in Connecticut. I realize that not all sex education classes were as open and honest as the ones I went through. Heck, it’s insane to think there are some schools that don’t even talk about condoms, but rather advocate abstinence as the one and only choice.

As I read article after article these days, I see the casualness of raw-dogging thrown around like it’s nothing. It has reared its head in more than print. We’ve all watched countless scenes in movies and television where the two characters everyone’s been rooting for finally get together and make sweet, passionate love on the floor, or in a kitchen, or in a forest under the stars. Do you think our protagonists thought of bringing a condom on their little nature walk? Is there ever a scene the morning after where the dashing young couple stands in line at the pharmacy and asks for Plan B in a hushed voice and then proceed to get HIV tests at their local clinic? Nope.

And, as art imitates life imitates art, imitates life, I find myself thrown into these situations as well. I’ve lost count at how many girls have said, in the heat of the moment, “It’s okay, I’m on the pill, just put it in without one.” I always want to stop and baby-shake them and yell:

“WHICH pill are you on? Did they invent one that kills sperm, AIDS, herpes, and The Clap?” No such thing exists, my dears. The future is now, but unsafe sex is still a threat.

See, a stronger person would calmly clothe themselves, stand up and say, “I’ve had a wonderful night, but I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with you if you didn’t want me to use a condom.”

I usually just mumble how it’s not my scene as she uncomfortably watches me slip on a jimmy-cap.

Don’t let the title or this content mislead you––it’s not just women who are being reckless in their carnal adventures, men do the same thing. Don’t take it from me, ask all my friends’ kids. We’re all at fault; some out of ignorance, some out of apathy.

Sex is one of those things animals are just supposed to do. And, like animals, sex evolves. The act remains the same, but the environment changes. Icky creepy diseases pop up, people start putting things in weird holes, they dress up like pandas, shit gets weird. People should explore sex, write about it, and talk about it. I know I’d be a lot happier if unsafe, unworried, risky sex wasn’t treated so casually.

Be safe people, even though it feels way better without a condom.

[Photo from Shutterstock]