The Sex of It All

By: Shareen Ayoub

There you are, stripped down to the lingerie your mom and grandmother picked out for your wedding night.

Was it something you would have chosen?

Not really… I mean it's not hideous, it's just unnatural.

The outfit is an ordeal really – ribbons and bows everywhere and a very uncomfortable g-string grinding in between your cheeks. The front leaves very little to the imagination with slits of bare skin exposed. You stand perfectly poised at the last stage of successfully transforming yourself from fairy princess to cheap whore.

You stare at your wedding dress – neatly hung in the closet – secretly wishing you could wear that instead.

And there he is. Staring at you awkwardly. You're both tired – no, exhausted. You spent the past eight hours dancing and engaging in a series of insincere and nonchalant "thank you's."

Not to mention, you're starving. Everyone knows the bride and groom never eat enough at their own wedding.

But food is the last thing on your mind.

"Wow," he mumbles hungrily.

You bite your inner cheek.

He sizes you up. It's the first time he's ever seen you like this. Sure, you've held hands and stolen the occasional kiss.

Alright fine, who are you fooling. Sure, you've spent hours making out in various apartments and beach houses that your friends generously donated for your foreplay. But everything you've done has been above clothes.

I mean you are a lady after all.

And your parents would kill you if you lost your virginity before marriage.

They never said it would be this foreign – how could something so natural feel so strange? Your mother told you the first time it would hurt – that was it. She didn't prepare you for everything you would be feeling.

You've never done this.

But you suspect he has.

The tense room fills with thin air and pressure.

He steps toward you, trying to be sexy by slowly taking off his tux – but it's weird.

You feel overwhelmed by how much you want to want him and how much you actually do.

And in that moment you realize this night – after the wedding – isn't about you at all.

It's all about him.

And all you can think about is pleasing him. Giving him the best night of his life so he never strays.

Because that's what mom told you to do.

And grandma.

He clumsily tries to undo the series of obstacles and traps presented on your costume. And you try to feebly help him.

The truth is, you don't even know how you got this thing on in the first place.

One thought is on repeat.

Only one.

This is not how I thought my first time would be.

Eight minutes later, it's all over.

He flops onto the side of the bed, sleeping like a baby.

And you?

You stare at the ceiling, hugging the covers over your body and think.

Was it bad?

Well, no.

But it wasn't great either. The promise of incredible, eyes-rolling-to-the-back-of-the-head orgasms were just as fictitious as "Happily Ever After."

And the worst part of it all is that you know it wasn't perfect for him too.

And so now you're stuck – fully secured into an eternity of mediocre sex and no mind-blowing orgasms.

He probably will never go down on you.

You will fall into the same pattern your parents and their parents did, too.

Sex for the sole purpose of producing children.

And then… nothing.

Well not nothing – there will always be raunchy novels and porn.

Such exciting prospects to look forward to.

The truth is: This is what you waited for.

Don't you wish you had done this before you promised forever?

How different would this night be if you knew what you were doing – if you knew what to expect?

Maybe you should.