Considering how generally homophobic large groups of men are, it’s always seemed weird to me that they tend to go on and on about how much they enjoy anal sex with women.
I’ve never tried it. I’m not morally opposed to it…I just never really had a desire to try it. I always sort of figured that if you’re running out of holes then you’re not really using your imagination.
The guys I’ve spoken to about it all seem to agree that it’s a power thing. It’s supposed to be the ultimate form of possession—an act of exerting power. I say that if you’re looking for power, try taking up martial arts…or do it the American way and buy a gun.
Some day, maybe I’ll be motivated to try it. Until then, I’ll just content myself with hetero-sex.
Sex about to be had is infinitely better than sex already experienced. It’s because you always end up imagining some sort of sexual perfection. It’s the best part of a new hook-up or relationship: the discovery and the anticipation. For the same reasons, young love isn’t really sweeter—it’s just newer.
I guess it’s a delayed gratification thing. For some reason, I get a twisted amusement out of making out with a girl on a first date, getting her and myself all hot and bothered—and then driving home. In my experience it does three things: first it establishes that you have self-control and self-discipline. Second, it states that if she wants you, she’s going to have to bust her ass. Lastly, she’s going to be that much more wound-up and waiting for it the next time you go over.
It’s pretty evil, I admit. But it really goes back to my earlier posts that state that respect and attraction are not always the same thing. Obviously, you don’t want to over-do it. If you keep neglecting a girl, she’ll walk. But if you mess with her just a little, go out of your way to seem a little unobtainable or mysterious, she’ll usually respect you for it. At least, that’s always been my experience.
To a lesser extent, the same theory applies in bed—delayed gratification is better than instant gratification. Nothing, NOTHING sends a woman into a frenzy quite like taking her to the brink and then stopping at the last moment. Then you do it again and again. It’s a trade-off of quantity for quality. When she finally orgasms, you’ll be lucky if your back has any skin left on it.
One of my favorite moments was back at college. My girlfriend of the time and I had finished an afternoon quickie, and I threw on a T-shirt and went down the hall to the bathroom. I was throwing water on my face and gargling, when the guy brushing his teeth next me gives me a double take and says, “Dude, are you ok? You’re bleeding.”
I take a glance at my t-shirt and I’ve got red stains spreading down my back and sides. I guess I my mind had been otherwise occupied.
Delayed gratification had cost me a T-shirt. But that’s a trade-off I’m always happy to make.
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