Sex is great. However there is this odd post-coital period that continually traumatizes me. It can be traumatizing in two ways: with a condom and without one.

With a condom: Typically I’m happy that I used a condom. It lets me worry less after sex, even if I take birth control religiously. I have this continual “worst-case scenario” complex because if I don’t use a condom, I’m having nightmares about baby diapers and trailers. However, what goes on must come off. So, as you sit atop your wholly satisfied man-o-steel, what he doesn’t know you’re thinking is: God, don’t let it happen again.

You know what I’m talking about. You’ve gotten it stuck up there too. It’s quite possibly the most horrific thing that can happen to you: the flaccid penis flops out and voila! No condom!

Which means you must do a body cavity search. Immediately the girl becomes flustered, not only because losing the condom negates the whole point, but because you’ve now got to slink away to the bathroom and give yourself a gynecological exam. And the guy always seems to make these common remarks:

“What the hell, where is it?” Here he starts searching around the sheets as if he’s going to find it behind the dresser somewhere. Or “Can I help?” A seemingly thoughtful question, but no. Next he’ll usually ask something stupid like, “What are you going to do?” What the hell do you think I’m going to do, genius? Call the Coast Guard and fly the condom to safety?

The Bathroom Body Cavity Search is always a fun time with your vaginal wall. You get to play a game with yourself called “Is that me, or a used condom?”

So maybe after a few of these experiences you might decide not to use a condom. But without a condom you have a waterfall of obstacles.

Scenario two: Once again, you’re straddling your man-o-steel. Immediately you notice the moisture. And what goes in, must in fact, come out.

And your just hoping it doesn’t come out all over his lap. But then again if it does, it was his anyway; you’re just giving it back, right? So in order to avoid that whole mess, you slowly remove yourself from his member and lie down next to him.

He thinks your cuddling. You’re a sweet, cuddly teddy bear. Wrong again! Your just lying next to him to plot the quickest course to the bathroom as you squeeze those muscles to keep from getting the bed wet.

Suddenly, you make your move, squeezing and scrambling across the bedroom, grabbing enough clothes to cover the important parts and bursting into the bathroom. Inside your head you’re imagining the battle scene from “Braveheart”:

“Hold, hoooold, hoooooooold, hooooooooooold… NOW!”

‘”Now” meaning when you’ve finally reached the toilet. Somehow guys have this delusional conception that women do not poop, pee or emit any bodily fluids in the bathroom. Apparently, girls only have bathrooms for curling irons and makeup. That’s fine with me.

But this is why it is horrifying to hear the guy, post-hookup, knocking on the bathroom door because he’s got to go pee. And you’re not done with the Kegel “squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax” routine over the toilet. Suddenly you realize you’ve been in the bathroom for 10 minutes, which is challenging man-o-steel’s conception of you as a perfect creature that wanders the earth looking continually delectable.

In light of my recent post-coital epiphanies, I am making four rules.

1. It is best to use a condom, even if it gets stuck up there. Go fish!

2. When you don’t use a condom you better use birth control, because it’s inversely proportional to being trailer trash.

3. No man should be within close proximity when a female is using the bathroom post-coitus.

4. Women are perfect creatures wandering the earth, looking continually delectable. And if you don’t think so, we’ll find someone who does.

Daily Nexus sex columnist Beth Van Dyke wets the bed, even when she’s alone.