Girls talk

This semester is finally over. At last I am having time again to catch up with my friends. I arranged to meet with four of them for a good old fashioned girls night in town last night. We had not seen each other for quite a while and I was looking forward to hear all their whereabouts. Compared to them my life as a student is very bleakly. Karin has been dating a new guy, and last time I had spoken to her she was completely over the moon. She had met him through a dating site and after a couple of e-mails with, in my opinion, too many smooth lines she had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. Silvia was in a new job recently, which had been very promising. She was working long days but that would soon be rewarded they had told her. Mandy is pregnant so she would be driving us home later that night. And of course, good old Caroline who would meet us later that night because her plane would land around seven and she needed to go home and change first. That girl is very hard to catch, next Tuesday she is leaving again, so we were quite lucky that she would be there at all.

Mandy and Silvia were already there when I walked into the pub. They were seated at a small square table in a quiet corner of the back garden and had texted me where I could find them. I was greeted with a warm embrace of both of them and after I took my seat I ordered a red wine from the waitress. Mandy looked like she was almost ready to give birth, her huge belly prominent, but she does have to wait for at least six weeks she told us. I asked Silvia how she was doing in her new job, expecting she would be thrilled about it. Her bright face clouded for a moment when she answered, “I should be enjoying myself,” she said, “but the whole experience is proving as pleasant as colonic irrigation during an A-level math’s exam,” she sighed. I couldn’t suppress a smile at this typical way of expressing herself but I asked her what happened with the huge responsibility she was promised to get. “Well, that will have to wait until I have proved myself with the ‘routines’, meaning archiving, taking care of lunch for the big boss and cleaning the office space,” she said with a slightly sarcastic intonation. That was ridiculous, because Silvia  had been head of accountancy in her former job! “Didn’t you speak to your new boss about it?” I asked her. “Yes, of course I did. I asked him after a week if I could have a word with him. He turned away from his computer, brows frowned, peering over his glasses, two hands clasping together and inhaling so deeply through both nostrils that I thought he was trying to hoover up dust on his desk. What is the problem, young lady? he had said. And I said to him that I was wondering when the real job would start.” Mandy and I nodded approvingly and Silvia continued with: “It is all a matter of the right attitude, he said, and as soon as I had shown him that I was qualified enough for what he was asking me now, the job would increase in responsibility. And with that he dismissed me by turning back to his computer again. I was stunned and raged with fury. But what could I do?” Before we could think of an answer Karin rapidly made her way over to our table. Her cheeks were flustered and she was panting a little. She was greeted with mischievous smiles from us and Mandy vented our thoughts. “Hard to release yourself from mister Perfect?” “Sorry guys,” replied Karin, as she descended on an empty chair at our table. “How are you girls doing?” “We’d better ask you,” said Silvia. “Still gobsmacked darling?” Karin just smiled before turning her attention on Mandy’s big bump, asking if she was sure she really wasn’t carrying quadruples. Karin ordered a red wine as well and we decided to have some of the tapas of the menu as well. Just when we were ready to order for the third time, Caroline emerged from the backdoor and greeted us with her usual loud  “Hiyaa girls!” This woman is always full of energy, no matter if you meet her at the crack of dawn (however, I experience that never) or late at night. “You must have had an easy flight then,” I greeted her. “Ha, don’t make me start on that, sweetie,” Caroline replied, but apparently I had done that anyway, as she extended. “I was seated next to a very big woman, even bigger than you, Man, except that she carried it more broadly. I would be the last one to discriminate, you know that. But this has been the most uncomfortable eight hours in my whole flight experience. I kept on shifting in my seat in a vain attempt to make myself comfortable. I bet I had so little place that it would fail EU regulations for transporting poultry, never mind people. I’ve lost all sensation in my bum cheeks there and I am not likely to get it back any time soon. So, how are you lot doing?” She made us laugh out and the tears were ruining our mascara.

We chatted on for another hour or so before Karin hesitantly asked us if we perhaps could give her some advise. She said she was having a little trouble with mister Perfect. For a couple of seconds we were silent. Then Mandy asked her if she dumped him. “No, no, of course not”, replied Karin. “He is a very nice guy and he could really be the one. But I would like to ask something, to you in particular Deb, since you were doing that sexology course lately, and I consider you as an psychological expert anyway”. Omg, although that sounded very flattering  I did not know what to think about it. Sexology has very little to do with regular couple’s sex and besides I barely past the exam. Maybe Karin meant to say that mister Perfect is not so perfectly equipped. Maybe she has found out he has a micro-penis, that was something I definitely remembered from the course next to some heavier stuff. The absolute minimum size of a penis is 2.5 standard deviation of the mean, and the mean size is….Before I could even try to remember the mean penis size, she said: “He has lied to me about his age. I have found out on our first date that he is in his late forties, and, to be fair, he is looking well on it. Yet he is one of those men who, while technically good-looking is simultaneously deeply unsexy without his clothes on, as I discovered after date three.” Oh boy, what was she thinking? That I’ve been there, done that, or something? The only time I had experienced a complete anti-climaxing encounter was with a guy who has had ‘Mother’ tattooed. Right under his belly button. And that was enough for me to make the quickest escape ever without even caring about my knickers that I left somewhere in his apartment. But I was not even sure I confided my friends in that story.  “Don’t expect too much from me, but go on, spill the beans, Karin”, I said to her. “Er…, okay, well, I am wondering if you could give me some advice. You see, I really would like to marry this guy. I am hitting thirty-eight next month and you know I desperately do want to have kids any time soon”. She then told us how their third date, unexpectedly ended rather disastrous. They have had diner in a romantic restaurant before they ended up in his house on the couch. She knew that they would sleep together that night and she was very ready for that, after all she fancied him a lot. The sex with him was supposed to be the cherry on the cake that night, Encouraged by a couple of glasses of wine too many and us as her supportive audience, she then filled us in with a minute account. “We were just snogging as he pulled my skirt and knickers off with all the romantic flair of someone stripping a bed, I quickly realized he wasn't a foreplay man. Suddenly he rolled off me and walked to the refrigerator where he was fumbling with something before returning back to the couch. He was having a small needle and syringe in his hand and said that he needed a little help to perform. I must have had a quizzical look on my face to say the least, so he explained that he has had to inject himself  to have a hard one. I really felt sick in my stomach when I realized where he had to put the needle in.” All four of us gasped in horror. She was unstoppable now. “And even more when he would like me to witness that. It did work though. Within a few minutes I could see his penis standing up in full erection. He didn’t want to waste much time, because it would not last very long, he told me. So, after a couple of seconds grunting and pushing, he was inside me, thrusting back and forth. Instead of enjoying it, I felt strangely disassociated, like it was happening to someone else. He tweaked one of my nipples like trying to tune into Qmusic Then he grunted some more and that was it, it was over”. Expectantly she was looking at me. What could I say, except that I had heard about those self help treatments? Questioning I looked at the other girls first, but their jaws were still somewhere near the floor. I wondered what kind of advice she wanted from me and to buy myself some time to compose myself, I took another gulp of my wine. She would probably wanted to know how she could make their sex more satisfying for her, I thought. Although, in my opinion you cannot really change a guy’s behavior ever but no matter how dysfunctional his penis is, he could have pleasured her in many other ways to start with. While I was still debating how I would bring this up to her, and to give her the careful consideration to end this relationship before she would be too far into it, she launched the question that was bothering her: “Do you think that he can still make me pregnant?” I spluttered my wine. “Uhm,…. Yes, sure.” I muttered and I realized I would never be a sexologist.