Remember horny?

Being soaking-wet, do-me-right-now horny? Remember fucking all night long? Being insatiable?

I’m at a place in my life where being really, really horny is something I look back at. And forward to. It happens occasionally. But really??… Rarely.

When I just met Hubby, then Boyfriend, I was so in love – and in lust. In heat, actually. If you had given me the choice between any wonderful thing in the world you can think of and having sex with him, I would choose the sex with him.

I would pass on a hot air balloon trip over the Tuscan landscape with Robert Redford (as he looked in “Out Of Africa”) massaging my feet in truffle oil – for sex with Boyfriend.

I would decline swimming with dolphins and afterwards eating KC Prime’s sesame-crusted Ahi tuna steak with a ginger glace and wasabi mashed potatoes – for sex with Boyfriend.

I would turn down a million dollars – for sex with Boyfriend.

So, here we are – 11 years later. Married, two kids, a car, a cat and a mortgage.

Today, if you offered me the choice between sex with Hubby and watching a rather lame-ass made-for-TV-movie starring a Jane Seymore-type as a single mother going through a rough time before she is finally finds herself – safe – in the arms of a strong, handsome ranch ovner, played by a Patrick Duffy-type, I’ll go fetch the popcorn.

Which is mind-boggling to me because sex is still sex. You know: in and out, in and out.

Nothing wrong with him. Nothing wrong with me. Nothing wrong with us. I know this for a fact. Because I have girlfriends. And they all say the same: “Have you tried the seasoned popcorn? They’re yummy!”

(So while it may not be gentleman-like to kiss and tell, let’s just conclude that in my circle of friends, we aren’t gentlemen. Hoorrayy!)

So while I accept that we’re in a place in life where reading a good book or sharing a tender moment or a hearty laughter takes precedence over fucking away like rabbits, I do get slightly annoyed with the sexification of the world. What is UP with mixing the message of sex in with all kinds of stuff? Yeees, sex sells but does it really sell EVERYTHING?

Toilet paper? Sexy?

Cool shoes… Sexy sperm?? Really??

This poor girl looks quite pleased with herself, despite the scabbed knees. She must still be drunk! And what is she reading? And when the hell did blowjobs have ANYTHING to do with flirting? If giving head is flirting, then what do you do next?

This dirty girl needs to get herself and her implants washed. “Thanks Lynx!”

And here’s a mouthful for a hungry girl. Even Burger King would like to have the message out there in the world, that when you eat one of their hamburgers, you are subliminally giving the super 7-incher a BLOW job. Classy. Family-oriented.

“Party now and apologize later”.  Also a mantra to governments everywhere.

So just as with the skinny jeans and the high heels, when it comes to the demands of our culture – in this case sex and how we are supposed to do it and how much we should want it, I must again conclude that I am not in their target group. Because I simply cannot relate.

But I highly recommend Newman’s Own 94% Fat Free Microwave Popcorn.

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One Response to Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex!

  1. Wabbit says:

    It’s sad that grown-up life saps our energy and enthusiasm for a good romp. For parents, in particular, even the remote possibility of little feet pitter-pattering their way into the room will dampen the strongest ardor. (I have friends who say they were scarred for life by coitus-interrupting their parents!) The drive is not dead, just cocooned in a delightful chrysalis. I hope you find it worth the wait. Interim, savor the interval.

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