The One Ring to Rule Some-Bodies

I online date. 

Why? Simply because it’s a hell of a lot easier than picking up someone from a bar (well, sometimes). It’s also pretty easy to weed out the creeps (sort of).  

I am obese. I want to be perfectly clear, I am not little, nor petite. There is a lot of me. I find that because of this I am fetishized. I also have a hard time finding men to actually date me and not just fuck me. It seems like my weight makes me a perceived easy target for a man who is looking to get laid.   I get a lot of boys that want to fuck me, and I let them. Yes. They fuck me. They don’t make love to me, hell half of the time, they’re not even trying to look at me. But every now and then, there’s someone who might be ok for a little while.  

This is the story of one of those “for a little while” guys.

I met him on OKCupid -- he lived in the city I was currently living in. He was an engineer and worked for a major airline. He seemed to have it together. We started dating. He took me to fancy restaurants and made me laugh. So, naturally, we consummated the relationship. Then comes my favorite part of every relationship I have been with in the last five years. The condom talk.   Why the condom talk? Because I am not on birth control. GASP! Why am I not on birth control? Well, why would I be. I don’t look at taking hormones on daily basis like my Triple A membership. It’s not a nice thing to have “just in case.” Just in case of what? Just in case the consenting adult I’m having intercourse doesn’t want to wear a condom? Because it hurts? Doesn’t feel that great? They forgot one? Wasn’t I supposed to have those?  

Side note: You don’t walk into battle with just your sword and no armor. Men, I am unsure if you have ever had to pay for Plan B. If you haven’t, then you do not know how much that $40-$60 pill can hurt for a mediocre night of what you considered to be “fun.” Like, I just had to work three hours so you could get off. And, so I could make sure I didn’t have your baby. Not that you were concerned in the least. (disclaimer: I know that this is not all men. If you haven’t completed the above actions, please continue without malice.)  

Since I’m going to be having relations with the same guy as we are now dating, I do what any girl would and make my planned parenthood appointment. I discuss it with my doctor and get the NuvaRing. She recommended it because it’s low on hormones and she didn’t want to put me on the depo shot because of weight gaining issues and myriad of other side effects.  

I bring that little ring home. I go to the bathroom. I attempt to insert it. BUT I CANNOT.

I cannot reach my cervix. I was not prepared for this. I am doing acrobatics in my bathtub trying desperately to get this ring onto my cervix. I am climbing on my toilet and looking up weird yoga poses. I am going from my bed to the floor and it is NOT WORKING.

I am hot. I am sweaty. I am now stinky. AND SO FUCKING FRUSTRATED IT IS UNBELIEVABLE.

  I call my boyfriend crying. He asks me what is wrong. I tell him. I can hear him smiling on the other end of the line and he simply says, “finally, I can help you with something.”  

I go to his apartment and he fishes the crumpled NuvaRing out of my vagina. Shows me how I bent it in my sad insertion attempts and puts it incorrectly.

Now for the sex!  

And then, a week later, we broke up.  

And then three weeks later, I realize I have to get the ring out of me. OH GOD. I start my yoga early one morning while I am visiting family in my home state. I am sweaty, I am frustrated, my NuvaRing is stuck and I cannot get it out.   I

cannot tell you how much I don’t want to pay a $35 copay to have my doctor fish this thing out of me. I cannot.  

So, I phone a friend. She and I have been intimate before and she says no problem. I go to her house and she pulls the ring out of me.  

It was weird. It felt weird. I was thankful in the moment for friendship and sisterhood I cannot even express my undying love for this woman. I feel like I should bake her cookies and send her cards with Georgia O'Keeffe prints on them for the rest of my life. This lady literally saved my vagina (and $35).  

I don’t think I’ll ever NuvaRing again.