Warning, this story’s going to get graphic. He was on top, we were in missionary, and my head banged against the cement wall of his room a few times. I mean, okay, maybe it didn’t just bang. It kind of rammed. And now that we are being specific, it was more than a few times—it was definitely multiple. But granted, I’m 22, and I had drank enough that night that I guess you could say I didn’t really even notice the pain. Hell, I was even into it. I was 100 % coherent and it was 100% consensual. This is the best concussion story you’ll ever hear, but it kinda sucked to live it.
I woke up the next morning thinking it was just a wicked hangover. My head felt like a cinderblock as I tried to drag myself from the pillow and make a run for Sutton. I felt so spacey and didn’t really even remember the awkward interaction I must have had with my one night stand in the morning- bless up. When I got back to Sutton, I noticed a bruise on my forehead. Then I couldn’t really understand simple conversation, and it was hard to talk. Yikes.
I ignored it all, because who the f*ck gets a concussion from sex? I have zero recollection of the three days leading up to my first visit to the doctor, one that my good friend forced me to go. She was freaked out because I apparently didn’t remember simple things she told me less than a few minutes ago and I couldn’t properly formulate sentences. Oops.
But telling the story of how I got my concussion to not one, but three middle aged male doctors was more painful than the concussion itself. I’m high-key prone to concussions. I learned that people who have attention deficit disorder, learning disabilities, and suffer from migraines are more susceptible to dealing with intense concussions. I have all three. And the fact that I’ve had a concussion before this incident (I soberly ran into a metal pole outside of Cocina, it’s not important) didn’t help either. Anyway, I had to go to multiple doctors. All of them were dudes. All of them felt the need to tell me they had daughters my age.
Sir, why?
Not that it matters, but I don’t sleep around. It was a few days after I got out of a three year long on-and-off “thing” with a guy that I cared about and had a moment of weakness when a cute guy approached me. It happens. So, as I was trying to get over that AND a concussion, I got slut shamed from a bunch of presumptuous a**holes. That kinda sucked, and I wish society was more progressive at this point.
Having casual sex doesn’t make you a slut. It makes you a woman who owns her body, regardless of the societal “rules” a bunch of prudes have enforced for centuries. I say screw it. Yes, I got a concussion from sex. But now I have a funny story I get to write about. So who’s the real winner here?