Ewwww La La

Warning: This blog entry contains sexual material that may be unsuitable for certain members of my family. Parental discretion is advised.

Wisdom has always taught us to be careful what we wish for, because we may just get it. Well, I recently got what I wished for and I think it's time for me to face the facts: I'm just not emotionally hard-wired for "no strings attached" sex.

Don't get me wrong. I like sex. I mean, it's great...if it's with someone I care about and with someone who actually gives a shit about me, but as recent evidence would suggest, I just don't think I have what it takes to--for lack of a better term at the moment--fuck.

Now, I'm no prude, but having sex with a perfect stranger with the full knowledge that a). they're really not into you and you're really not that much into them, b.) you probably won't see each other again and c.) the only reason that you're really there in the first place is because of the excessive amount of spirits imbibed--well, it just doesn't do it for me, peeps.

Unfortunately, that is pretty much exactly what happened and, I've gotta say, I don't think I've ever felt so cold and lonely afterward as I felt that night. It was all so very mechanical and uninvolving. On a scale of 1-10, ten being the most erotic, I'd probably give the experience a generous -3. This may sound really bad--and, yeah, the whole situation probably wasn't really my finest hour (okay...10 minutes!)--but I actually, um, faked it (ladies, ladies, ladies...did you truly think that you had the market cornered on that lovely bit of mischief?! Well, guess what!! You're right!! Ya do! I'll be looking forward to my Razzie nomination for Worst Male Performance, along with Pauly Shore and Carrot Top, sometime early next year! Yay.)

And what sucks is that, at the start of the evening, I kind of dug this gal. I mean, it wasn't love at first sight by any means, but I thought there was a hint of a connection and she seemed nice enough. However, as these things tend to happen, the more alcohol that was consumed, the darker the evening got.

I think what sucked the most is that when I tried to kiss her, she smushed her face in and pulled back, away from me, as if the sheer intimacy of kissing would turn her into stone or something. Maybe I've just been spoiled with my past experiences, but--and maybe this might make me sound like some naive school girl--to me, kissing has always been the best part of sex. I mean, yeah, The Big "O" (I guess) is the cherry on top, so to speak, but to me, it's always been the tender moments, the little things (giggling, whispering jokes in each others ears, looking into each others' eyes, etc.) in between that made sex so amazing.

Am I an idiot for deciding that every sexual experience in my life, from this moment forward, should be something special, like with a significant other or <GASP!!> my future wife, wherever she is, rather than screwing some bar hag or stranger? Maybe. Will this new self-imposed rule drastically lower the number of sexual partners I have in my life? Perhaps.

But so what?!

As I mentioned earlier, I like sex. But under no circumstances do I need it. If you disagree with this, I understand. Look, people--myself included--are horny bastards. Like a friend of mine explained to me, the other day...sometimes, we just need to get off! I get that--believe me I do! And if having the occasional sex romp is your thing, then by all means, do whatcha gotta do.

But what can I say?

I'm a lover...not a fucker.

And to think that I was going to write about "Transformers!"