Trigger warning: personal sex story, penetration, thesis.
Okay, Reed, I really need talk to you. About a girl. Her name is Thesis. Jeez, just thinking about Thesis gets me all excited, but, like there’s a problem. I’ve been calling it my Thesis problem. We started dating at the beginning of last semester, and we’ve been trying to have sex for, well, most of that time, and it just hasn’t ever worked out. I mean, the mutual active consent is all there, you know, like, we’re down to fuck each other. It’s just that, see, the problem is, like, I just…fuck, I’ll just say it: I can’t find her vagina.
It’s not like I can’t locate her vagina. Like, I know where her vagina is supposed to be. I’m just having trouble accessing it. Before you start making all kinds of jokes, let me elaborate…
So, like, just the other night, Thesis and I were getting into it, you know? Thesis had me all worked up. I get the okay to take off her pants, so I undo the buttons on her jeans and pull them (i.e., the jeans) off of her, but underneath she’s wearing another pair of pants! Like, not leggings or whatever, but full-on, like, snow pants! Right?! I stopped and looked up, but her eyes were closed and she said “keep going” all sexily, so I just didn’t think about it and started taking off her snow pants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and said she wanted to have sex. I was hella down to stay up all night with Thesis, so I slap a raincoat on the rough ‘n ready trouser snake and take the plunge, when BOOM! It was like hitting a brick wall! She was…impenetrable. I literally couldn’t get into Thesis. I stopped to take a look at what’s going on down there, and, well, she looked completely naked. I know I didn’t miss the mark, so to speak, like, I know how vaginas work and stuff.
So then I felt that under my hand, which I thought was on her naked hip, was actually a waistband—a waistband to another pair of pants! But these pants were, like, naked pants! Like there was a fake vagina on them and everything! What I thought was a vagina was actually just a vagina print on her pants! I’m talking veritable pussy pants! What the fuck! Who wears that shit? It looked so real… We’ve been together for a while, but sometimes I just don’t understand Thesis.
Anyway, by that point I had such bad blue balls that I just took off the pussy pants to finally get to her real vagina, and…jeez, you’re not going to believe this…she was wearing another layer! But it was a layer of, like, reflective pants! They must have been made out of mylar or something! It was crazy! I move down to take a look, and of course, where I expect to see a vagina, I just see a reflection of myself. A fucking mirror! Have you even found yourself staring at yourself from the perspective of a vagina? I couldn’t handle it anymore. I know it’s not her fault, but I was really frustrated with Thesis. We decided to call it a night. I left the library—and yeah, this was all happening at my desk in the library. I know, right? Let’s just say Thesis and I spend a lot of time there—and I went up to The Lutz for a rye old fashioned.
So that’s the deal with Thesis. It’s by far the weirdest relationship I’ve ever been in. I love her, she’s infinitely interesting, and sometimes she’s horribly frustrating. She’s even made me cry. I mean, she gets me so worked up, but then I just end up in a place that seems farther from where I’m supposed to be, you know? When I think I’m going to get lucky, I just run into more and more layers. The path toward penetrating Thesis is a fucking labyrinth. What looks like the right thing is never the right thing. But the relationship has also been weirdly rewarding. I’ve put a lot into cultivating our relationship, and I’ve grown a lot along the way. Thesis leads me to self-reflection in places where I never, never thought I would find myself.
When I think about it, I’ve never even seen Thesis’s body. I have no idea what Thesis is actually going to look like—that is, assuming that I can even find her, as it were. Shit. I might finally remove all of the boundaries between myself and Thesis only to realize that she has a penis!
See you in Hell,
Your Local Thesising Senior
P.S. This account is in no way a metaphor for the author’s own sexual frustrations. It’s simply a metaphor for the thesis process. The author actually gets mad play.