He Made Me Ride in His Motorcycle Sidecar

I Lived it:

I thought it was finally going to happen. For the first time, I met a handsome guy at the bar with a motorcycle. We laughed, had a few drinks, and then Jared asked me to come home with him. Walking out of the bar with last Saturday night, I thought for sure this was going to be IT. I was going to be that chick riding on the back of some guy’s motorcycle! So you can imagine my reaction when Jared handed me a helmet only to have me to sit in a motorcycle sidecar the size of the bicycle basket from E.T.


How could this happen to me? Did this man I just met even respect women??


I always thought motorcycle sidecars were created for dogs, small stepchildren, coworkers you were forced to carpool with, or girls you just found out were your second cousin. Jared must have thought I was stupid, because he gave me a plastic wheel to make me feel as if I was directing the motorcycle myself.


I saw my dream of riding on the back of that motorcycle being destroyed before my very eyes. How was I supposed to clutch onto Jared’s abs and shake my hair in the wind all the way from this sidecar? This wasn’t what I wanted at all!



The ride home was more humiliating and degrading then I ever imagined. Not only did Jared make me wear a helmet and goggles, he also asked me to signal for right turns using my own arm. Jared was treating me like an absolute piece of garbage, but not in the way I usually enjoy. This was not the motorcycle ride I had asked for.


Jared was supposed to be my wall to protect against flies, but in the moment they were all splattered on my goggles. Was this just an elaborate way of friendzoning me, or did he treat all of his women this way?


Needless to say the sex was bad, but that was probably because I was motionless and depressed through most of it. Nothing in the world can make a woman feel so small like being put inside a tiny motorcycle sidecar. Even a week later, I’m still struggling to get my confidence back. I guess I’ll still have to wait for my perfectly romantic motorcycle moment, but until then, I’m only sleeping with men who have cars.