A Letter To A Short Encounter

If I had to describe number 4 in 5 words it would be “short and not so sweet”…

“Dear Christmas Fuck,

To tell the story of you and me I won’t need many words as there is just not much to say. You are yet again one of those drunk and silly decisions that one makes while growing up and figuring out life.

I met you on a night out. I think it was Christmas Day and I thought it would be a great idea to get drunk and celebrate the holidays properly. You came over to me and started dancing with me. We talked quite a lot that night before anything happened, it wasn’t just making out and fucking each other.

It was nice to get to know a little more about you before taking you home. Although, I don’t remember much of what you said that night and to be honest I don’t care.

Our short encounter reminded me of the movie Love, Rosie. To get to the point, the condom ripped and for a minute, a minute of shock and disbelieving, I thought it was still inside of me. We found it eventually, somewhere underneath the duvet.

Lucky me.

I went to the bathroom to get rid of you. Tried to clean myself up, and shake off the worry that came instantly. I didn’t even kick you out afterwards, I let you stay for a bit longer. I sensed that you were a embarrassed and didn’t really know what to do. So, I tried to be a good person and told you that it’s fine and that you don’t need to worry. I told you that shit happens and that it wasn’t your fault.

Sometimes I wish I’d stop being so nice to everyone.

Anyway, I didn’t take your number and you didn’t ask for mine. Which was probably for the best as, even before the condom ripped, I can’t say that I enjoyed having sex with you. To me it was more a “let’s get it over and done with” kind of thing.

This was the first time I was ever worried about being pregnant, especially as my period was late. I tried not to freak out and managed to keep quiet until I was back home and able to take a test – the first pregnancy test I ever had to take.

It was scary but at the same time a massive relief when only one blue line started to show. I don’t know what I would have done if there were two of them.

Lucky us that wasn’t the case!

I don’t regret nor did I enjoy what happened, but in the end it was an experience and experiences are a good thing. No matter if they are good ones or bad ones, either way, we grow on them.

Best wishes,
The girl who is glad that it was just a ripped condom.”

Letter No. 5 …