My boyfriend did not want to break my hymen. There is probably a certain sect of men who get off on popping cherries like they're a row of bubble wrap blisters, but I’m not a girl and this wasn't my first time.
Hi, I’m Brian. Welcome to Tubesteak, a regular column where I talk about penises mostly and what I do with mine and what you should do with yours. There will also be some discussion of cocks, cocksuckers, cuckolds, and maybe, just maybe, a clitoris or, in the case of today's article, a fake hymen. But, honestly, mostly just dicks.
My boyfriend did not want to break my hymen. There is probably a certain sect of men who get off on popping cherries like they're a row of bubble wrap blisters, but I’m not a girl and this wasn't my first time. And my hymen was going to be messy. These are probably all reasons my boyfriend was less than enthusiastic about this little experiment.
A couple of months ago my editor told me about Joan of Arc Red, a fake hymen made in China and marketed mostly in Japan. Essentially, it is a piece of plastic with a bit of dye inside designed to let a sullied woman pretend her precious membrane is still intact and appear to bleed upon intercourse. Yes, Joan of Arc might have been a murderous delusional schizophrenic psychopath, but at least she was always a virgin. When my editor originally told me about this thing, the idea was to get someone with a real vagina to try it. A couple of days later, however, I stumbled upon this article in New York magazine. I sent him a link to the bad news, he asked if I’d like to test it out in my butt, and here we are.
When I first proposed this experiment to my boyfriend he said yes in the abstract, but when the time for participation arose so did his excuses for not doing it. He thought it would be sloppy and asked if they were made in China, as if his balls might somehow get lead poisoning from it. The only thing that didn't arise was the one part we were going to need to get the job done. Who knew that fucking a guy with a butt hymen would be so unappealing to a red-blooded gay American male?
After a long week of nagging and some negotiation, we put the towel down on the floor and got to work. Each box is wood paneled, so it looks like a million 80s rec rooms where real hymens were busted while Porky's played on HBO. Inside, on a delicate pink satin pillow, are two foil packets, each containing a hymen. At first I didn’t understand why you'd need two of them. By using the second one, wouldn’t you be letting your partner know you’d faked it the first time? By the end of the evening, however, it all made sense.
I ripped the first one open like it was a Cracker Jack prize and pulled out the folded up membrane. Speaking of Cracker Jacks, it was almost like a temporary tattoo with a dollop of red dye in the middle and some gritty substance that looked like those maroon tablets the dentist made you chew to highlight all the plaque on your teeth.
The instructions on the box were in Chinese, but the only character I recognized was "woman," so I figured they didn’t really apply to me anyway. I looked up a how-to online, and it said I should rub the hymen between my hands and then insert it into a moistened vagina. I rubbed gently but still managed to tear a giant hole down the middle of it where, in a perfect world, a dong would be slitting it open. This is why they come in packs of two.
I opened up a second and just plunged it into my pucker. It said I should go to the second knuckle, but the whole thing is only about the size of two postage stamps and I didn’t want that little guy up there unanchored. I only put it in there to the first knuckle, but it still kept sliding around like a stray anal bead. Trying to maintain my boyfriend's erection throughout this whole ordeal was as difficult as keeping Courtney Love out of the medicine cabinet (ayo!), but I did it. Tragically, when we were finally ready, we discovered that all the maneuvering had ripped another hymen.
"I think your asshole has a moisture problem," my boyfriend said. He was right. The science behind this thing seems to be that the pussy juice mixes with this tissue-thin faux virginity indicator to bond it to the genitals. Since I don't have a pussy or the resulting juice, there was no way to get the hymen to stick.
The internet instructions said to wet the hymen if it was too dry, so I ran it under a bit of tap water and tried to throw it in my ass once again. This time the whole thing turned into a pasty red ball of mush. When I pulled my finger out of my crack, there was something that looked like a pink loogie on the end of it. I ran off to the bathroom to pick hymen boogers out of my butt hair. I also had to wipe several times to get rid of the dye. The dye, by the way, seemed way too bright for hymen blood (I’m guessing). I think it would need to be much darker and thicker to actually fool some jamoke into thinking he just plucked an untouched flower. Then again, horny guys will believe almost anything.
When I got back from the bathroom, my boyfriend was lying on the towel completely flaccid. "Does this mean we're done?" he asked with a bit of an exasperated smile. I knew we still had one more chance, but it seemed like what was good for the goose was not as good for the gander. We have to accept our biological difference and, as amusing as it might be to pose as a woman, it just wasn't the same. Sure, I’m no stranger to penetration, but I'll never know what it's like to have a cunt, fake or otherwise.
So, I made out with my man to get the ball rolling (and his balls roiling!) again, and when everything was good and firm I climbed aboard without fuss or artifice and took the whole hog. Who wants to fuck a virgin vagina when you can have an experienced asshole?
Previously - How to Quit Porn and Not Entirely Ruin Your Life