mind is on auto-pilot as I zip down the road, my body
reverbing as if I just spent all weekend at the OzzFest
camped next to forty-five foot tall speakers. My companion
rides shotgun with a big smile etched upon her face--looking
like a female version of the Joker. Both of us are spent
and I am quite positive I just registered more than
a passing grade on the ole "jackhammer fuck."
That's when she
turns to me, like she’s just discovered a cure for AIDS,
and exclaims: "Sex is a lot of work."
jaw drops and I look at her dumbfounded for
a few minutes. Finally, I laugh and counter
with: "You think you’re worked over. How
about me?" After all, I was the worker
bee who was doing most of the strenuous stuff--for
at least ten minutes.
like trying to figure out who is getting more
punishment, the nail that’s getting pounded
or the board it’s going into. I say the nail
every time, but maybe I'm a little biased.
Now, mind you, I hadn’t had a workout of this
magnitude since that dumb-ass seventh-grade
President’s Physical Fitness Exam and it makes
me curious, so I pose this question to the lady
who’s riding shotgun: "Why
do so many women like to get pummeled?"
guffaws (one of those after-good-sex guffaws), loves
the adjective and what follows between us is an in-depth
rap session on the topic--If only they could be so candid
on the Dr. Phil Show.
Phil: So tell the studio audience: What's your problem?
Guest: Well, Dr. Phil, I'm just trying to figure out
why women like to get fucked so hard? And why as men,
we're willing to comply.
partner-in-flesh starts by asking me if this is a common
phenomenon with my shag partners. I smile in the affirmative
and tell her that "harder"
is one of the first words out of their mouths.
(Actually it occurs several minutes after one of two
phrases: "Make me your whore" or "wrong
hole!"). I then ask her if that’s how she
always likes it--rough-and-tumble. Her answer is "yes,"
the more aggressive the better.
quick tour through past sexual escapades and something
definitely sticks out in my mind: I have to guestimate
that at least half of my sexual partners weren’t able
to climax unless I was nailing away at them as if I
were working on the railroad all the
this you, ladies? Do you find that you love to hear
the sound of the bed slamming against the wall like
a 7.2 earthquake is shaking it? What about you, guys?
How many times have you been there? Your tool helping
to split San Andreas Fault apart at the seams?
for my anonymous self, I usually prefer the slow, deep
thrust method, because that incredible sensation of
warmth that you women make us feel once we’re inside
your luscious love tunnel is quickly erased when we
start frantically mining for oil like a twanging, 10-gallon-hat-wearing
all we do is worry: Are you OK? Jesus, am I killing
her? Should I call 911? My mother? Help! They never
taught us this in school. Maybe instead of the President’s
Physical Fitness Exam, they should have ... oh yeah,
it was called Sex-Ed … and a lot we learned in there:
"This is the vagina and this is the penis...class
any of you perpetual members of H.A. who have an inkling
to explore your sexuality beyond Men’s Health
or Cosmo, I recommend Robin Baker’s compelling
book, Sperm Wars. Here’s a quote:
sex play is a common element in the courtship of humans
and many other animals ... Such behavior has many facets,
and all of them involve an interplay between mate selection
by females and the display of quality by males ... On
average, men who are physically able to overcome the
final defenses of a female and achieve insemination
leave more offspring than those who are not."
you know why a favorite female fantasy is being role-play
My only criticism is that everything Baker speaks of
in his book points to our instinctual motives, focusing
everything on the mammal in us and in the process, he
neglects our human side and our supposedly higher power
of reason, our ability to rise to a John Gray-kind of
love. I think we all do believe we can fly...But in
rough sex is just a thin veil disguising another truth:
Men and women have become so confused
with our roles that we have a difficult time being intimate
with each other.
is obviously a battle between two different camps. In
this corner: “the serious screw” and in the other corner
“making love.” The animal versus the human. “Me Tarzan,
you Jane” versus “Me Romeo, you Juliet.” Wait, Romeo
and Juliet committed suicide because they couldn’t have
each other, maybe a bad example, but nevertheless I
asketh of you: Why is it so hard for us to get past the primal screw?
it because our animal is stronger than our anima (soul)
and power of reason combined?
there is a time and place for everything. And if a man
were to make love to his woman like the oh-so sensitive
Kenny G. everyday, and she countered with the daintiness
of a prima ballerina, things might get a little stale.
Indeed, the “me sweaty football jock, you slutty cheerleader”
romp is not bad sometimes, even tumultuous, but when
it becomes routine and a hump we can’t get over, what’s
that saying about our capacity to love? Is love just
a four-letter word for F-U-C-K?