Like him, that's probably the last question I want to ask--or God forbid hear--in bed.
It's an old question, dating back to at least 1681. 'Daddy' in this context is a synonym for 'pimp'...although it has come to refer to any male lover. Yecch.
There's a lot of things about sex I don't understand. No, smartass, I don't mean the talk...although come to think of it I never really did get the talk. My mom gave me Where Did I Come From and it gave me the talk.
(Wow, it never occurred to me until now just how sexist that book is. According to its version of events, the man does all the work and derives all the enjoyment out of sex, and the woman is just an incubator. Nice. Ah, the 70s.)
No, the stuff I don't get about sex is a little more esoteric. Some of it (as always) has to do with language. Besides "who's your daddy?" there are a host of questions and statements we make in the bedroom (or wherever cranks your shank) that make no sense at all.
The first and most obvious one I can recall questioning the first time I heard it: "make love". Even as a young kid that sounded wrong to me...isn't the love already there? and if not, how does sex make it? I'm actually a stereotypical girl that way, in that I have an awful lot of trouble divorcing sex from love. Most guys I know would kill to have a no-strings-attached sexual relationship. I've had one, and to be perfectly honest it did nothing for me.
That's not to say I don't fantasize about no-strings-attached sexual relationships...hey, I AM male, and not that weird...but I'm fairly certain reality could never match the fantasy. I'd either fall in love or realize fairly quickly I couldn't. If I did, it would present a bit of an issue, since I'm very happily married.
I have no problem accepting the idea a person can love more than one other person romantically. One of my favourite poems, from an early age, too, is by Shel Silverstein:
Just Me, Just Me
Sweet Marie, she loves just me
(She also loves Maurice McGhee).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves Louise Dupree).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves the willow tree).
No she don't, she loves just me!
(Poor, poor fool, why can't you see
She can love others and still love thee.)
(She also loves Maurice McGhee).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves Louise Dupree).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves the willow tree).
No she don't, she loves just me!
(Poor, poor fool, why can't you see
She can love others and still love thee.)
Other terms we use in the bedroom...I've never understood how "sleep" got to be a synonym for "have sex". (And I have slept...just slept...with a woman. Three nights running, in fact, before we ever so much as kissed.)
Then we get into what's called "dirty" talk for some reason, as if sex is dirty. (Maybe I'm not doing it right.) When I hear dirty talk, it's all I can do not to think of porn flicks--which, paradoxically, completely kills the mood for me.
Those of you who partake in porn, riddle me this: has your taste in porn become somewhat jaded over the years? Sort of a "been there, seen that, got the stained T-shirt"? Think how bored the actors must be. And next to issues of paternity, boredom is right up there on the list of things I don't want in my bed.
(At the same time, I like some acknowledgement of enjoyment. I was once with a woman who had the "close your eyes and think of England" mentality...to be perfectly frank, she might as well have been a blow-up doll. Several times I thought of pinching her nipple to see if she'd fart and fly out the window.)
Lingerie's another thing that I don't get. I've had sex clothed and sex all nekkid and bare and nekkid and bare beats clothed any time. What's all the fuss with clothes, when they're just coming off anyway?
Man, the list of bedroom turn-offs or at least turn-downs for me is as long as my third arm. Pain, the merest hint of nonconsent...even sex toys are a bit of an issue for me. I have trouble relating to them as the tools they are, and end up feeling a real disconnect right when I'm trying to connect as deeply as I can.
Face it, Ken: you're not just vanilla, you're Madagascar vanilla. It's a damn good thing I have a wife who understands that...and even luckier she accepts it even though she isn't herself.
4 comments:
I'm mostly with you, kind of vanilla when it comes to sex. No wild candle wax on the nipples or hanging upsdie from the cieling but a littlesexy talk sure does the trick but it does shorten the event that is for sure.
I wonder what makes one desire the kinky stuff?
Why is it called the missionary position?
I consider it the most efficient and intimate position. Not that I'm averse to others.....
Rocket--my wife just asked (with a hint of exasperation) "so...are ALL men vanilla, or what?" I said "no...the vanilla ones write blogs. The heavenly hash guys write blogs about fucking."
Catelli--common myth that missionaries introduced the position to heathen savages. Which is silly if you think about it--how would they describe it? It'd have to be show and tell, right? Actually, Kinsey seems to have coined the term. It's the most common position for humans, bonobos, gorillas, and armadillos. And yes, I agree with you, it's by far the most intimate position.
For those vanilla guys out there, I need to warn you that the blog link Mr Breadbin put out there, is very much by a non vanilla guy. He is one of the reigning masters of gonzo porn. If you don't know what this means, then you should look it up before delving into it. Or maybe you should just dive in anyway - you may find some inspiration to be a little less vanilla ;)
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