How Mcberth Treated Me Like Garbage



I met Mcberth while drunk at a bar. I won’t get into the details of how we got to talking and ditched the friends we came with to chat more about stuff I really don’t remember. Movies? Music? Existential dread? Why Akara aren’t called bean cakes?

Doesn’t matter. After my friends left, Mcberth offered to let me crash at his place. We walked to his apartment. Upon arriving we both acted as if we were not about to have s*x. He asked if I wanted to sleep on the couch and I pretended that’s what I was thinking all along too.

I settled on the couch and I wondered if he was going to make the move. Finally, he came back into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He offered me one, and I of course said yes even though I was drunk enough as it is. He was drunk too.

We both were not in the mood to drink more, but we were definitely in the mood to touch each other’s genitals. Of course, it is almost impossible to touch another person’s genitals unless alcohol is involved. However, love is much more difficult to come by.

After standing around the kitchen and talking about more meaningless stuff I mustered up the courage to say “So, are we going to f**k or what?” That’s the problem with me. I have absolutely no idea whether or not a man is interested in me.

He has to give all the signs possible. However, I still somehow end up making the first move. In this case, it took an offer to crash at his place and an unnecessary late night drink to give me the courage to state what was probably the obvious.

We’re going to f**k. We went to his bedroom, and this guy continued to be shy regardless of me stating I wanted to have sex with him. I took my clothes off and he took his off. We were both on his bed, facing the ceiling.

I was waiting for him to kiss me, but instead of a kiss I felt a hand cup my right breast. He just cupped it and left his hand there. Not even a rub or a squeeze. Just a, “Mind if I place this here?” I figured this was going to be all up to me.

I hopped on top of him and proceeded to kiss him. I placed both his hands on my breasts and he finally kicked himself into high gear.

Maybe I should pause here and describe Mcberth. Mcberth is tall, around 6’2”. He is slim, and has dark hair and soft pink lips. I was immediately attracted to him. He was wearing a tight-fitting flannel and black jeans. The fact that he was tall and slim was a bonus.

I have a thing for men who are the opposite of me. I am short and round. If you want to imagine what the sex between me and the majority of men I’ve slept with looks like, imagine a celery stick having sex with a potato. (guess you don’t want to imagine that)

Mcberth’s  face was cute too. He has those sexy white eyes that make him look a little bit like a cocaine addict. I mean this in the nicest way possible though.

So, we were kissing and groping on his bed when Mcberth took charge and did something that had never happened to me before. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me closer to him. By my hair. It hurt like crazy, but I was so shocked it happened that the pain was a secondary though

I mean, I like a bit of pain in my s*x. A dash of it. You know, like spanking and some hair pulling. lol

Neither one of us had a condom. We now had two options, intercourse without one or oral ’till the cows come home. We went with the latter. After growing tired of one another’s private parts we decided to call it a night and fell asleep. I guess we kissed some more.

Mcberth really wanted to have intercourse, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it without a condom. I may occasionally have sex with strangers, but at least I’m responsible about it. But Mcberth was good at what he does best. He nearly ripped off my vagina with his tongue.

The next morning, I woke up & felt like shit. I was going to do the “sneak out while he’s pretending to be asleep” thing, but his roommates were in the living room & I didn’t want to have to talk to them. I woke McB up (who was already awake) and asked him to walk me to the door.

He did, and then we hugged while saying goodbye. No wait, I actually said, “It was nice meeting you.” Not sure if I was trying to be funny or if I actually meant it, but regardless, he laughed.

We did not exchange numbers, which usually bothers me, but I remembered that at the bar he showed me his Facebook on my phone and told me to add him. This is where things get weird.

During our initial meeting at the bar, Mcberth told me to add him on Facebook. He took my phone, showed me his account, and some pictures of himself. I sent the request and that was that. The next day, after my bus-ride-of-shame home, I looked at his profile from my phone.

He still had not accepted my request.I figured he doesn’t check his Facebook that often. I waited a few more days & still nothing. This bothered me. I saw that he even posted a Facebook status within those two days.He must have seen my request, and must be purposely ignoring it

With one-night-stands, I don’t expect much to come of them. I didn’t really think Mcberth would want to hang out again, so why was I so offended by him not wanting to be Facebook friends?

I started thinking of my previous one night stands, the ones where I’d gotten some sort of phone number, or other means of communication. It wasn’t because I thought we were going to keep seeing one another. Really, it was so I wouldn’t feel like garbage.

When I do sometimes choose to sleep around with guys Idontevenknowyourlastname. I know I am immediately considered garbage to a large portion of society. I myself have never felt like garbage but having the safety net of their contact information made me feel more in charge.

I guess just going through the common courtesy of pretending we’ll see one another again makes it all feel more okay. More human. I don’t know. I just know it makes me feel better. So you can see why Mcberth refusing to add me was a problem? I mean, it’s also just plain rude.

Why tell a girl to add you just so you can ignore it? I was pissed, but didn’t think of it that much until a few nights later, when a friend asked me to tell her about my night with him.

As we sat and talked about it (and got more drunk) she encouraged me to send him a Facebook message. Bad idea. However, in my drunken stupor I concluded it was a good idea. Just a simple, “hey.” I sent the “hey” and throughout the night proceeded to down more whiskey.

A few hours gone by. Still nothing. I look at his profile once more and he has been active since my message. There’s no way he could not have seen it. It’s a glaring red number. The whole point of a notification is that it gets you notified. You can’t miss it. You really can’t.

I was pissed, drunk, and horny (which was my constant state). I messaged him again and said something along the lines of “fucck you asshole.” I kept expressing similar sentiments. I might have even suggested we hook up again in-between all the anger because I am an idiot.

A drunk, sad, horny idiot. He never responded and the next morning I woke up on my friend’s couch, remembering what I had done. I was extremely embarrassed. I vowed to just drop it and move on, which I did.

Fast forward approximately three months. I was minding my own business on the Internet when all of a sudden a chat box pops up on my Facebook. It’s him. I had completely forgotten about him, and our interaction, which was not really an interaction as much as it was me

battling my own demons via social media. He forced his way back into my life by saying “whoa.” He then apologized, and said something about not seeing my request or messages. He definitely saw my request, but I wasn’t going to harp on it.

I felt too crazy. Him saying “whoa” really brought back the embarrassment, and I just wanted to stop talking to him as soon as possible. I proposed having having sex with him one last time, for good measure. He rightfully declined, and then requested my Facebook friendship.

Well, to this day Mcberth and I are still Facebook friends. We have not said anything more to one another and never will.

We never engage with one another on the goddamn site, and frankly our lives mean nothing to each other. I still feel like I won though. Does that count for anything?😭 But I really like him.. I wish I had sex with him. *sobs* The End.



story by @Mcberth_Playkul