Unless You Sleep with Her First
The girl next door embodies our tamed instincts. Marriage, children and tender companionship. Does she really exist? Has male conditioning created her to be an unattainable dream?
Are you afraid to approach her? Would your erotic projection ruin her image as a decent, pure and almost virginal womanly ideal. So unspoilt you deny thinking of her in explicit sexual situations.
Console yourself. After some time with her, you’ll be bored. She won’t scratch the confrontational itch. Once you have her, the chase is over. She’s now a regular nuisance.
She’s predictable and safe. If you don’t like spontaneity, go for the routine. You’ll always know where you stand with her. She won’t try to undermine you, unlike those feminist types.
Maybe she’s playing with you. It was all an act. She really is that wild-child party girl who sucked you in with the nice-girl facade. You’ve been taken for a ride.
Does Marriage Spoil Sex?
It was a perfect day. He was gracious and romantic.
That night in our hotel suite we had the best sex
and the most physically connected night. I felt as
if all my romantic and sex dreams had come true.
He was amazing, the sex felt amazing, we did it
multiple times. It was all unprecedented.
I was thrilled. It was the best sex we’d ever had.
Our honeymoon was pretty great, too. The sex wasn’t
as earth-shattering as out wedding night, but it was
very frequent so that made me happy.
But my happiness was short-lived. After our wedding
and honeymoon we started having inferior, infrequent sex.
Here we are many years later. I am sad to admit
my husband and I have had sex less than 10 times
a year, every year since our wedding.
I am angry, embarrassed and sad. I largely blame myself
for putting up with it. Yet life distracts me.
My children distract me. Over the years pregnancy distracted me.
But I can’t help but know that I went from a life
of having sex 300 times a year to 10, if I am lucky.
Talking about sex and my dissatisfaction with our
sex life is not easy. My husband shuts down, cuts
the conversation short, changes the subject, so
it’s never a productive conversation.
I often feel like I have given up and it’s not
even worth trying. Now I watch gorgeous men on
TV and fantasize. I have my little electronic
friend who satisfies me weekly.
Every time I have an electronically induced orgasm
I tell myself I need to find a new lover. I can’t go
through my life not having sex. And I need good hot,
I crave it, it is part of who I am. I have buried
this over the last seven years and I don’t know how
much longer I can fight it. I am not ready to go out
there and cheat, but I think about it all the time.
Love is the irresistible desire
to be irresistibly desired. — Robert Frost
Something created by our culture
to cage the sexual beast in us.
It’s not real. A figment of imagination
A programme instilled as a fairy tale.
Love is another religion which has a massive
following with the faith to believe it.
Marriage is essential to ensure conformity.
It’s based on the ideology of romantic love.
It ensures the sexual rebels knuckle under.
We’re participants in a daily soap opera.
One which programmes our behaviour.
As a teenager I was never sure whether I was “in love” or “in lust.”
The first is supposed to be “a deep and tender feeling of affection
for or attachment or devotion to a person.” Lust is “a desire to
gratify the senses, a bodily appetite, a sexual desire.
I was seeking acceptance any way I could get it. If a male told me
he “loved me” I was ready to thank him any way I could,
and usually meant going to bed with him.
A kiss could make my heart pound. I wanted the boy
to hold me, kiss me, and make me feel wanted.
I would do almost anything to generate his
“love” and never once thought about any
gratification for me.
I made up dreams and fantasies about how he
would ask me to “go steady” and I would be
the envy of all the other girls at school.
Each time I saw him I ached with desire.
But none of my dreams came true. I was merely a receptacle for
the male sperm. There was no love. I was stricken each time
I saw the boy with another girl. That is lust.
Now, as an adult, I find myself in much the same situation I was
in as a teenager: Single, still looking for love, and finding
myself in a dead-end lustful situation.
How does one, at any age, determine what is love
and what is lust? Isn’t it possible to have both
lustful feelings and be in love at the same time?
If I can’t determine what the feelings I am having mean, how can
an adolescent make a decision as to whether he/she should jump
into a romantic situation and accept the consequences?
Where were the talks between father and son and/or mother
and daughter that discussed what sex was all about? I know
I was told not to get pregnant and I assume the males were
told to wear condoms, but where was the frank talk about sex?
A judge has been criticised for arguing it was
“understandable” a 31-year-old man had sex with a
“nubile” 14-year-old girl because “he’s not made of steel”.