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Living the Fuck Out LoudSex & Gender

FAT GIRL SEX: THE TALE OF TWO JAYS

August 9, 2019
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Fat Girl Sex is a weekly sex column devoted to the celebration of the sexual empowerment of women, body and sex positivity featuring personal meandering about all the nasty things we do in the dark.

It’s not my fault, really, how lacking in diversity “male” names are. When I happen to meet two guys named Jay, I wasn’t smart enough to put Jay #1 or Jay #2 on my phone. And really, in this dating climate, how often is it that you actually end up fucking around with all the guys you started with? Not likely.

Which is why on one innocuous Saturday when Jay #1 texted me my brain associated him with my actual Jay, the Jay I liked and had been talking to for a month. No, I didn’t scroll through our text thread to make sure. Frankly, I had forgotten all about Jay #1, to begin with. And being my saucy self, I happened to be in a particularly sexy mood on this day. Wanting to get things going with the Jay I had been talking to for months, I sent a few X-rated photos and a video for good measure. This got his attention and his imagination going. And soon text-sex had turned into phone sex — pretty wild phone sex, at that. And since I was so busy putting on a theatrical performance worthy of a dozen cum shots, I failed to notice the difference in this Jay’s voice.

But lemme back up: I had never met either Jay during the time we have been talking. Jay #1 disappeared as soon as he appeared in my Tinder deck while Jay #2 was someone I texted about bullshit on the regular. I had assumed we would have sex but, so far, we hadn’t. So when “he” called me for phone sex, I was thrilled.

It wasn’t until later the next day when I was reminiscing about the freak-nasty that had taken place the night before that I noticed something off. There were no recent photos in Jay #2’s text thread. In fact, we hadn’t spoken for a whole month. And I realized that I confused Jay #1, the random, with my actual Jay — exchanging photos, videos, phone sex and all.

So, heed this as a warning to all you dirty girls out there: maybe, just maybe add last names to your contacts.

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