Let it Burn

I have a confession to make. I like to go tanning. Like fake tanning, lay in a magical light up cocoon and get some colour. I’ve done all the research and I know that it’s really bad for me, but it’s a bad habit I can’t shake, especially during the summer. I spent this winter in the arctic tundra that is South Bend, Indiana, so my skin was pretty pale as of a few weeks ago. Don’t get me wrong. I love spending time in the sun. I try to spend most of my weekends outside, but the problem that I’ve come across with outdoor tanning is tan lines. If this were Europe I would be ecstatic because nude sunbathing is not only really good for you, but you avoid tan lines altogether. But this isn’t Europe and there are laws against public exposure and so my lady parts are always a few shades lighter than the rest of my body. So I go fake tanning to get rid of the tan lines.

I promise this isn’t a post about fake tanning. There is a reason I’m telling you guys this. I got to the tanning bed the other day and I usually do fifteen minutes. I blast music, zone out, and come out looking like a beautiful bronze Aztec virgin sacrifice. Minus the virgin part. I decided to do twenty minutes yesterday though because I had some stuff coming up this weekend and I wanted a little extra kick. Ten minutes in I notice I’m sweating. More than usual. So I turn the fan on and keep going. The bed shuts off, I get out, and I notice I feel a little sore. I attribute it to working out and get dressed. As I’m leaving, I so happen to glance back at the door, where a large, all caps sign is posted reading WE JUST CHANGED THE BULBS IN THE BED. USE CAUTION. Great. I go home, work out, make dinner, and as I go to step in the shower I catch a glimpse of my backside in the mirror. Holy fuck. Both of my ass cheeks are flaming cheeto red. I wish I was making this up. There’s the perfect outline of the bulbs that had been tanning my rear, and the parts that are burnt are the loveliest shade of red I have ever seen on a sunburn. Like if I was in the lipstick business and I could somehow market “Ass Cheek Sunburn Hue” I would be a millionaire. It sucks, but what am I gonna do? I jump in the shower and slather on cocoa butter. No biggie, right?

Now, at this point in the evening my apartment lost power. Again, not the end of the world, but my phone was dying and we all know how much our generation is glued to technology so I went across the street to a bar to charge it. I ran into some friends, sat down, had a few drinks, and the bar started to get crowded. I wasn’t going to do anything in my apartment (If the internet is down I’m basically useless), so I decided to make a night of it. I started dancing, walking around, meeting people, etc. etc. etc. The usual stuff you do at bars. Then, out of nowhere, this guy comes up to me. He’s definitely older, but in a chill way, not a creepy old man way. Let’s call him Dave. Dave buys me a drink, we get to talking, he’s flirting, I’m mildly interested, blah blah blah. He asks for my phone number and at this point in the night I would usually give him a wrong digit and be on my merry way. HOWEVER. I am a girl and in some ways I’m still very immature and I like to play mind games and I can be a little ridiculous at times there I said it so what sue me. I had just seen that this guy I used to hook up with had entered the bar and I decided I wanted to make him jealous. Because yes, I sometimes have the emotional maturity of a fourteen year old girl. Let’s call this guy Bill. So I start laughing really loudly, and tossing my hair back, and doing all the usual tricks, and Dave must be thinking “Yes! I hit the jackpot! This girl is really into me!” And I know Bill is watching and my plan is working and I’m feeling on top of the world and Bill is passive aggressively walking past us like every five minutes and death glaring Dave and it’s a nice little ego boost for me. I want to quit it while I’m still on top so I go home. I’m about to call it a night when I get a text from Dave. I decide to invite him back to my place because he actually was really nice and it’s good to have one night stands one in a while. So we start hooking up and everything is going great and he has a pretty big peen which I’m relatively excited about because the last guy I slept with didn’t which was highly disappointing and we’re trying all different types of positions and he’s talking dirty to me and I’m loving it and we’re doing it doggy style and out of the blue he spanks me. HALT. RIGHT. THERE. Remember my sunburn? Remember where it was? Remember how bad it was? I have never known the true meaning of pain until that moment. It felt like taking a giant gulp of Tabasco sauce through my skin, if that makes any sense at all. I awkwardly yelp (like the sound a puppy makes when you step on it’s paw) and pull away from him which causes him to lose his balance, and also very inopportunely cum at the same time and it gets all over me, and in that moment the power came back on. I kind of just stayed crumpled on the bed. He thought I was basking in the glory of how wonderful our coitus had been, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. It was the single funniest/most painful sexcapade I’ve ever had. Moral of the story? Don’t use tanning beds.

xx,

Gemma