baserinstincts

See? Even Oprah does it.

I didn’t actually see this episode (although I have seen past episodes on which Dr. Northrup was a guest… love her) but I did catch this short summary on Huff.

I think it’s about time Oprah covered a topic like this (and you know once Oprah says she’s doing it, everybody will be doing it as well… which is a good thing by the way).

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Lamentations of Post-Breakup Cohabitation

Flashback.

The scene: my apartment, two weeks after the big break up, sometime back in November.

This post break up cohabitation has officially become unbearable.

After my onlining, I took a nice long hot shower and then turned on Dancing with the Stars.

I was feeling quite amourous especially since one of those male dancers was particularly hot. It was as good a time as any for my daily self loving episode.

So I dry off, plug in Mr. Hitachi,and get going.

I was having a blast, my arousal moving from a 3 to about a 6 in only a few minutes. And then… a rather angry banging on the door.

I looked over at my beloved BlackBerry (perpetually on silent) and see it lighting up. I swore loudly realizing it was Gus at the door.

The downstairs lock had been changed recently and I never bothered to cut him a copy of the new key because he was moving out in a couple of weeks anyway.

I pick up the phone to yell at him that I’m coming down to let him in. I usually unlock the door right before I know he’ll be arriving but this time he was home a full hour early.

I got up, got dressed and put away my electronic lover before going to let him in.

Fuck!

I can’t even masturbate in peace anymore.

On Sex Ed

So just whose responsibility is it to educate the youg’uns about sex anyway?

There’s been a lot of talk about this recently.

People seem to think it’s the responsibility of the schools and have called them out on their gross inefficiency in this area.

OK. I can sort of dig that. I believe schools should address the issue. It’s certainly a topic far more practical than a lot of things taught in schools today. These kids may go through life never having to apply the rules of trigonometry but you can bet each and every one of them will have sex.

Sooner rather than later, most likely.

But, and forgive me if I start to sound like Bill Cosby here, where are the parents in all this?

Don’t the parents hold the ultimate responsibility in not only teaching their children about sex (as in the mechanics of how it and their bodies work), but also to instill sound sexual values in their children?

I know it’s a difficult subject to bring up (I myself am still waiting for the talk…glad I was proactive and picked up a book). I had to ask my mom and even then I got a one sentence answer.

But in today’s society, where sex and sexual images and conflicting sexual messages have become this sort of ubiquitous entity, where you can’t even go a block from your home without getting hit in the head with it, wait too long or wait for someone else to do it for you and your kids may end up schooling you instead of the other way around. And by then, they’ll be such bouts of misinformation that it will be even more work to set them on the right path (I was in high school, getting ready to enter the adult world and some of my peers still believed you couldn’t pee if you had in a tampon or that you could use lemon juice to diagnose various vaginal infections… in junior high a peer gave birth to a still born because she wanted to keep her pregnancy a secret and didn’t understand the concept of prenatal care).

When should you start? How young is too young? It’s hard to say for sure, and there’s no one size fits all answer here. You should certainly have the talk (series of talks actually) before celebrities are able to replace you as your child’s parents. Once they’re exposed to that kind of constant bombardment, it’s becomes difficult if not impossible to exert your own influence.

I wouldn’t trust MTV to raise my child. Would you?

Monkey Business

Apparently, even monkeys pay for sex.

There’s been quite a bit of buzz about this article.

It basically summarizes findings that certain male monkeys had to groom the females monkeys for a certain amount of time before they got sex.

Now I think there are two ways you can spin this.

On the one hand, you could wonder why this seems to be such a big shock to people. After all aren’t we, according to the evolutionists, descended from monkeys? And anyone can observe similar behavior amongst humans.

Human males pay for sex all the time. Some females charge a steeper price than others to be sure, but inevitably we all charge and men always pay.

We use sex as currency in exchange for affection, attention, self-esteem, respect, better jobs, citizenship, I mean fill in the blank here.

And, just like the monkeys, the more competition there is in the form of other women, the lower we drop our rates.

This emotional prostitution may even be older than the oldest profession.

We use sex as a negotiating tool oftentimes counterfeiting the passion that is supposed to go along with it.

Or, on the other hand, maybe we as women should take a cue from the monkeys and more carefully evaluate what a man has to offer before opening the candy shop? There’s something to be said for it I think.

But for the most part, I’m not a fan of this sort of deliberate calculation. I think a woman should just have sex when she wants to because she wants to and with no hidden motives. Granted for most of us, it’s a long, hard road in order to get to that place and some of us never make it there.

Maybe we are just a bunch of monkeys after all.

Conversely, men seem to be more comfortable with (and are expected to be) just wanting sex for sex’s sake.

I remember watching Oprah one afternoon. Felicity Huffman was on talking about her book A Practical Handbook for the Boyfriend. There were funny clips of interviews with men. One in particular stood out. It was with one of her Desperate Housewives co-stars. He asks her how many chapters are in the book and then asks her how many chapters deal with sex. She answers one. He replies “See. If a man wrote this book, there’s only be one chapter and it would be about sex.”

Telling.

2008 New Years Sexual Resolutions

OK I know I’m a tad late on this one.

I’m really not big on the whole New Year’s resolution thing.

Working on self and life is a process and one that is best approached by taking baby steps.

At least that’s how it is for me.

I have some projects I’d like to see come to fruition this year.

But these haven’t been at the forefront of my mind the past couple days.

No, that would be sex.

My hormones have been positively raging since the breakup and I find myself feeling amorous at the most inopportune moments. And so in an effort to improve my sex life in the new year, (well after I get one of course- am I starting to sound bitter about this?) I’ve made some sexual resolutions.

1. Get some really nice new panties and sexy pajamas. Gives me an excuse to shop and I deserve to feel sexy, even and perhaps especially if there’s no man around.

2. Hold out longer. I know this sounds counterproductive because the idea is to have more sex but I’m focusing on quality not quantity. Sex is better when you really want a particular person and it is less so when you just cave in to biology and hop on the first available thing around.

3. Watch more porn. It inspires me. Ditto dirty books.

4. Get more comfortable with giving directions. A lover, after all, is just that and not a mind reader.

5. More butt play. This needs no explanation.

6. Get out more. This should have been first. Lovers don’t just show up at your doorstep (unless, of course, you order them).

7. Get some new toys. There are some higher end beauties I’ve been dying to try. No love like self love.

Have a happy, freaky, sexy,  kinky (but safe) New Year everyone!

Daddy Issues

So I’m reading Best Sex Writing 2008 edited by the fab Rachel Kramer Bussel (awesome book by the way, check out the blog here).

I was reading the piece entitled “Double Your Panic” in which the narrator (Kevin Keck) is anxious about the impending arrival of his twin girls given the obsession he harbored for twins in his youth.

The piece had me laughing out loud at times but the real priceless bit was at the end when his wife tries to reassure him saying “It’s usually the girls with daddy issues who turn out a little slutty.”

Eureka!

That explains a whole hell of a lot!

Now I’m not saying I’m a slut, you understand.

I’m just saying that there are any number of mistakes events in my sexual history that probably wouldn’t exist had my father stuck around longer (it would certainly help to explain why for years I insisted on chasing men who obviously didn’t want me).

I feel like calling him up and yelling “THANKS A LOT DAD!” into the receiver.

The one that got away…

Everyone has one, don’t they?

You meet a guy or a girl or whatever and you develop a crush.

Or you hit it off and things are going really well and you’re on cloud fucking nine.

Right?

You’ve been there.

I can probably name a couple who fall into that category for me.

No on second thought it’s really only one.

We’ll call him Mr. Red.

We met last year at (guess where?) work. I was in a relationship at the time (what else is new?)

But things were coming to a close (I just hadn’t told him yet).

Anyway, I’d seen him quite a few times before actually really noticing him if you know what I mean. He was tall, about 6′3″, on the lanky side, light of hair, eye and complexion. Not the kind of guy I’d generally look too hard at but he had a great face.

It was a happy, kind face. Complete with two huge dimples, a personal weakness of mine.

So the hellos quickly turned into hugs, which turned into big bear hugs, which turned into him making stops by my department to say hello.

Now I maintain that I did not leave my boyfriend for him but our fledgling flirtations gave me the extra push I needed to finally get out of a situation that was no longer making me happy.

One night I was leaving work and I saw him standing outside smoking a cigarette.

Turning my flirt game on and into high gear, I walk up to him reach up (because as I mentioned he’s quite tall) and gently pull the cigarette out of his mouth, take a drag and then replace it. It worked because he smiled his sexy dimpled smile and said “Bad girl”.

He asked about the book I was reading (Robert Jordan, Knife of Dreams) and then we went our seperate ways but not before he swept me into a bear hug, humming a soft “Umm” into my ear.

It was maybe a few days after that that I told my boyfriend it was over. It happened right before I had to leave for work and although it was what I wanted to do and knew in my heart it was the right thing I was still sad (hey…breaking up is hard to do).

I wasn’t expecting to see Mr. Red at work. I could’ve sworn he told me Sundays were his day off. But a few hours into my shift I hear a familiar voice behind me advising me that “crack kills” (2006 was officially the year of the butt crack). I turn around, instantly out of my funk, to see my tall, lanky albino-looking crush. I jump up to hug him. He asks me to lunch. And so it begins.

It was a whirlwind romance. Lunch turned into walking to the train together after work, which turned into more lunch which, eventually turned into an exchange of numbers and a drink after work.

I wasn’t expecting the kiss, he seemed the cautious, take-it-slow type. But I sure did enjoy it.

Kiss led to more kisses which led promptly to feel-and-grope. We were hanging out practically every night and having a blast at that. I hadn’t been so attracted to someone in a long time.

I hadn’t had this type of we- really- enjoy- each- others’- company- so- fuck- the- bullshit- and- the- drama fun in an even longer time.

I was smitten, and at the same time trying desperately to hold onto my panties for a respectable amount of time. See I kind of had this four week rule thing. I’m an adult woman, very comfortable with myself and my sexuality, but let’s be real. We all know you don’t give it up too soon if you want him to stick around for awhile (although there are exceptions, I gave it up to my current boyfriend pretty quickly and I can’t seem to get rid of him for the life of me).

It wasn’t easy. My coochie throbbed and practically screamed at me when he walked by, wept when he smiled. And boy I tell you, when my girl down there wants something, she makes it very difficult to ignore her.

I didn’t make it to four weeks. To his credit he was patient. But in the end, my fingers just weren’t doing it. So we fucked. It was tricky. I was living at my mom’s at the time (incidentally this experience made me realize I’d gotten too comfortable and stayed home too long, much longer than I’d planned and I got my own place soon thereafter). It was late at night. We had to be quiet. I felt like a fucking teenager. He was huge. It felt great. It was over too quickly (out of necessity). I was falling.

It’s a couple of weeks later and we were still having lunch together almost everyday. Whenever the opportunity arose, we had fabulous sex. He didn’t seem like he was trying to hide me at work. He’d even slipped up once and said the “L” word in half joking manner (which puzzled me for days and so I finally just asked him if he was joking… he said he wasn’t).

And then things changed.

I had purposely played cool and avoided the whole where-is-this-going line of questioning; partly because I was on the rebound, partly because more often than not that question is a jinx and mostly because I was just enjoying him and us too much and didn’t want to talk the relationship to death. But I realized that by asking him what he meant about the “L” word, I’d showed my hand too early (ah the games we play).

He had cause to be slightly unsure of me before that but after he knew he had me right where we wanted me. And then he began to flake. The visits became less frequent, the lunches rarely happened, phonecalles went unanswered and unreturned, smiles and hugs were strictly rationed.

I was sad.

I really liked this kid and I thought we really had something. I tried not to get too bummed about it but it just seemed to be coming to an end all too quickly. And I let it. I’m not one to put up a fight if someone is drifting from me.

Futile.

The time’s better spent finding out who’s waiting in the wings. But I still think of him fondly and wish he’d call sometime.

Not long after the “break up” he’d gotten fired (karma?) for excessive lateness. People have told me since that he’s been to visit several time and that he’s asked for me. It seems I’m never there though.

Today when I was leaving work, I caught glimpse of a tall, lanky, lightly colored man. My heart sped and I walked toward him to get a better look.

It wasn’t him.

And then not even a block away, I see another tall, lanky Mr. Red look alike.

Look alike though, not Mr. Red.

I smiled though, remebering the good times.

Maybe missing him gave me deja vu.