A Mostly Comprehensive List of the People I Never Banged

There have been a few, honest!

When you go through life with a raging waterfall of a libido and an addiction to love — like me — there are bound to be a handful of ones-who-got-away. Despite the oddly ignorant stereotype that women are never turned down for sex, I have received my fair share of no-thank-yous, all of which were soul-crushing and humiliating in their own way.

But then there are the notable occasions where I was the one getting to do the rejecting, the ones who weren’t up to snuff for my muff. Let’s meet them all!

2002: One poor youth was on the receiving end of my pre-teen exuberance for far longer than I’d care to admit, and I only hope that old age will one day rob me of these haunting memories. After a series of rejections from which I never learned, I tried to convince myself I’d have sex with him if that would get him to like me. Fortunately, he never gave me the opportunity to find out.

2004: High school brought me many more fish to try and hook (it’s just a metaphor, I wasn’t a hooker). I found myself a weed-smoking bad boy, and he became my first kiss. Immediately after jamming his tongue down my throat, he asked if we could have sex. No foreplay with this one. I politely declined, only to find out years later that I missed out on an impressively large cock.

2005: For someone raised entirely without religion, I don’t know where I picked up the puritanical idea that I should only lose my virginity after six months of dating a dude. My poor high school boyfriend — and now husband — patiently waited out my prescribed time before we punched our V-cards together. For all that withholding on my part he deserves a place on this list.

2007: The first boy ever to get me drunk in college became the object of my over-the-top affection, to the point where I pretended to like the terrible indie music he listened to. Although I didn’t get the D, it did become the catalyst for opening up my relationship.

Summer 2009: He was cute, Australian, and a terrible kisser. I made up an excuse to leave before I could find out what else he was bad at.

Fall 2009: I fantasized about this fella for months but didn’t want to out myself as polyamorous by flashing him my tits (you know, normal flirting). Even though he was a virgin and a theoretical fucking would involve a lot of teaching on my part, I had the hots for his body and his soul. A double-hitter — that I never hit.

2010: The sister of the guy I had failed to fuck only the year before, and the only person I knew in Singapore. The sexual tension between us was immediate and palpable, but I had no idea how to proceed with a woman (who was as straight as I thought I was). Do I grab her big ol’ tits? Do I kiss her beautiful mouth? Unfortunately, I did nothing.

2012: The tech scene was booming, and all the millennials were fucking each other between bouts of ping-pong and
3 p.m. keg-tapping, and I wanted to fit in. I didn’t manage to lay the office’s handsomest gentleman, but I did eventually flirt with his hot sister.

2013: Squarely enmeshed in the BDSM scene, I was teeming with lust and looking to learn. I set my sights on the Master of Masters, the Daddy of Daddies, but never managed to catch his attention.

2014: We worked together, and I already knew his type: narcissist. The only way to beat them is to never give them what they want, and he wanted it bad. I never gave it up. Then he tried to take it, which isn’t funny, but it is such a narcissist thing to do.

2016: I was a straight-up slut that year. I banged everybody.

Early 2017: I went out with two former coworkers and showed both of them my pierced nipple, the party nipple. I only went home with one of them. (One of the coworkers, that is. I still have both my nips.)

Summer 2017: I was far from home, it was the height of summer, and he was seven years younger than me and a freshman in college. I was too old and too married for him, but I mean, he looked like Jon Snow and I was ready to pretend to be his aunt if you know what I’m saying.

Winter 2017: Remember that guy from the end of college? He also lives in San Francisco and asked me to get dinner with him. After all these years, finally I’ll get to tap that! Yeah, I still couldn’t make it happen.

Related Stories