Can You Sex Someone to Sleep?

sleeping, sex, fell asleep during sex, boring, drunk, passed out

I hooked up with a guy who fell asleep during sex.  He.  Fell.  Asleep.  During.  Sex.  He was snoring.  SNORING.

Your first thought may be – well, maybe the sex was boring.  But, you’d be wrong.  Your next thought may be – well, maybe you’re wrong.  And, I’d respond with the following story and let you decide:

Dev and I had been chatting online for over a month before we finally found a mutually convenient time to meet up.  We used the text time to get to know each other better and opened up about ourselves, our experiences, and our desires.  In retrospect, I think this caused Dev to place me on a bizarre pedestal and gave him a bit of a complex about how to ‘compete’ with my other experiences.

He was super good looking in person and the initial conversation was going great until he started holding my hand as we were walking to grab a drink.  What the fuck? We are in a super public space and you are holding my hand?  No.  I pretended to have an itch and moved my clutch to the hand closest to him in order to avoid THAT again.  At dinner Dev had three more drinks and half of mine.  After dinner he had another drink while I sipped on soda water.  But, he’s a grown man who is taller and significantly more muscle-y than me and no heavy machinery was to be operated.

We headed back to his place where I declined another drink and he smartly switched to water.  Then the hooking up began and his complex became clear.  I can only describe what he did as some checklist he’d plotted out in his head about all the things “experienced women want in bed” and he was hell bent on checking all the things off.  We kissed for a bit and then he hikesdup my skirt and went full commitment into all aspects of my downstairs area.  I’m cool with it, but the vibe was accomplishment-oriented vs. connection-oriented.  He continued to check items off his list- positions, phrases, sounds, body-maneuvering.  A little over an hour into it (you read that right) I told him he needed to come.  I was way past done and ready to go home and get some beauty sleep for my early workday.

At this point, he informs me that he doesn’t come easily when he’s been drinking whisky.  “Ya didn’t think about that 5 drinks ago?” I muttered to myself.  I’m a firm believer that we are all responsible for our own orgasms and the partner can only help you along so far.  I had been an active participant through all iterations: bed positions, chair positions, standing positions, kneeling positions.  Thank goodness I hadn’t worked out that day.

In a last ditch effort to find true energetic connection versus ticking off sexual bucket list items; I politely told him to lay back and began a pseudo massage situation using creative parts of my body to massage certain parts of his.  He finally relaxed into the somatic experience of pleasure for pleasure’s sake instead of a frenetic, overly cognitive sex strategy.  And, then, that fucker snored.  I heard it, I stopped, I got up and BAM he sprung back into action grabbing a new condom, apologizing, telling me how I’d relaxed him and he’d drank too much.  I calmly told him I was heading home as he tried to get me back on the bed.  I firmly placed my hands on his chest and suggested he get some rest.  Poor fellow had tuckered himself out on his rabid sex scavenger hunt.

I got dressed, smoothed my hair, gave him a hug and insisted on walking myself to my car.  So. . . boring sex?  Not really.  It was sex that looks great on paper, but something you can’t quite put your finger on was missing.  The sex checked all the boxes, but didn’t have the ‘it’ factor.  Guess he needed his beauty sleep.  Hope he finds a Princess Charming to wake him up.

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