i'd like to say that the worst thing about Geoff was his punctuation. sadly, this wasn't the case.

according to the definitions of sex and foreplay presented by my ex, P---, everything Geoff and I did was foreplay. actually, that's giving credit where credit wasn't due.

if he was starting to sense my frustration, he didn't let it show. to be honest, he was starting to piss me off. if there's anything worse than a man who doesn't perform, it's a man who doesn't ask what you want when he doesn't know what he's doing.

when i was in my late teens i was seeing a guy named Mike. he was terrible in bed and i didn't get off once with him.

i remember talking about the situation to the Sex Ed. teacher, Ms Fynbo. she told me to dump his ass. he was one of the hottest guys at my school so i stayed with him to keep up appearances. he said that he'd talked to some of the other guys and that their girls made a lot of noise when they were fucking. he asked if i was frigid. i know that he really didn't even know what the word meant. he'd just heard it in The Breakfast Club.

though i was pissed, knowing that my lack of thrills was his fault (i had no problem getting off on my own), i didn't have the nerve to tell him that he sucked in bed. instead, i decided to fake an orgasm. the problem with doing that is that once you did it with a guy, he expected you to get off every time. he also thought that it was only logical that the intensity of your orgasms increased over time, as he got better with "practice."

it was this expected escalation that 'caused me to break it off with Mike. i simply was not that good an actor.

when dobbs and i started going out, i was really nervous. the first few times we were together, i couldn't come. he didn't either, but that didn't seem to bother me. i mean, i knew he'd been with lots of girls so i figured he must know what he's doing and that there must be something wrong with me. i chalked up his lack of coming to my own inexperience. one night, scared of being rejected, i gave the greatest performance of my young life.

he immediately stopped what he was doing and started to get dressed.

"what? what did i do?"

"you know what you did."

"you're mad because i came?"

he threw me a stern look.

"what?" i asked.

"i think a woman should think of faking an orgasm the way a man thinks of throwing a fight: the act of a coward and certainly nothing she would ever want to do."

he started to head for the door.

"wait!" he did. "i'm sorry. you're right. i'll never do it again. i promise." the truth was, orgasm or no orgasm, i liked what he did. i liked everything about him. his hands, his mouth, his cock, the way he moved. i was nervous, that's all.

he sensed my sincerity and came back to bed. we slept together three more times and i learned to relax with him. the orgasms he gave me were different--they made me feel right, emotionally and physically. a while later i learned a few tricks of my own and i learned to play him perfectly. we were good together.

now here i was, almost a decade after my breakup with Mike, considering faking again. this time, for Geoff. i gave it some thought and then dismissed the idea.

instead, i told Geoff that he'd have to start paying more attention to me in bed. what i liked and didn't like. i talked him through stuff. i guided his hands and mouth. nothing worked.

another week and he'd had enough. he said i was too demanding and that i made him feel guilty "for wanting to get off every time." i asked him if he got off every time with me. of course, i already knew the answer.

"it's different for guys," he said.

without rushing, i put on my clothes, gathered my things, and left.

he was right that first night. the price was too high. i never saw him again. two weeks later, he stopped leaving messages on my machine.

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