Friends with Benefits does NOT include medical

This one comes with a warning. Ooh, I love warnings- they present the threat of danger and they just make me want to do whatever I'm being warned about THAT MUCH MORE!!

Consider yourself warned. This blog entry involves sexytimes and I've tried to make the details as minimal and tasteful as possible, while not taking away from any of the essential bits that make a story a story.

If you know me, you may know that one of my biggest fears is dying in a sex-related injury. An SRI, if you will (this is my favorite of two pseudo-medical terms I use frequently- the other being "UDI" which stands for "unidentified drunken injury.") This fear is second only to the fear that I will be mistaken by a pedophile while I'm wearing a backpack and no makeup and I won't be able to find my ID to prove to him that I'm 25 not 14. I'm sure the fact that it's a Hannah Montana backpack won't help my case.

I, like many of you, have had my share of SRIs over the years. Thankfully, no serious ones. Most are pretty standard- who hasn't slammed their head against a headboard or a wall? I've been elbowed in the face, accidentally thrown off the bed (thankfully not a bunk bed), had the wind literally knocked out of me (hurts like a mother), and gotten bruises of all shapes, sizes and colors. I've pulled more muscles during the throes of passion than I did back when I played competitive sports. But I've never landed in the hospital. The same cannot be said for all of my sexual partners.

Yes, I have finally sent a man into the emergency room. When he first texted me to this effect, I was mortified. Then I found it hilarious. And finally, I found myself with a warm feeling that I recognized as pride.

Is there something seriously wrong with me? How could I possibly be proud of myself for contributing to a serious injury? My ego apparently knows no bounds.

It's not like I get off on hurting people- far from it. But there is something about knowing that a man nearly literally broke his back to please you that is a little bit....flattering.

I've always worried that I'm too much for people. Too much personality, too demanding, too stubborn, too loud, too dramatic, too opinionated, too passionate. Too randy? The fear has crossed my mind. Most guys would say that there's no such thing...but most guys also haven't ended up with a herniated disc after a one-night stand.

I was once talking with some people at my old job about sex (this was a frequent topic of conversation at the workplace- a bit unsettling when you remember that we were surrounded by dead bodies.)I was describing a favorite position that can best be described as "acrobatic". My coworker vocalized his fear that I was going to fall and break my neck one of these days. He suggested that I tell potential lovers "Yo, before we get too freaky, I think you should know that I don't have health insurance."

Funny, yes, but maybe also a bit true. Should I make men sign a release form prior to getting down? Something to free myself of any legal responsibility for injuries incurred? In this day and age when people sue McDonald's because they're fat, should I cover all my bases before rounding any?

Or should I just realize that sex is an experience in which one gives up complete control, and as a result you've got to take the bitter with the sweet? I think at the end of the day, I'd rather screw with such reckless abandon that we both risk personal injury than have timid vanilla sex that barely affects your body, either positively or negatively. I believe that most of my partners have felt the same. Even ER Boy is at a place where he can laugh about it. AND he wants to see me again when he's feeling better. I'll have to think about it. I've got to hand it to the guy for putting in so much effort, but honestly- I didn't feel we were particularly physically compatible. The fact that he landed in the hospital is possible further evidence of this. We may not be the best fit, and that's okay. It's all a learning experience, and while this was my first time back in the saddle (pun intended) after a bout with celibacy, I'm not going to take it as a sign that I should just give up and take a vow of chastity. There are plenty of fish in the sea or some such cliche, and I look forward to finding someone who challenges me both in and outside of the bedroom.

Besides, I totally have health insurance now. ;)