Guest Blog by the Foxy Blond

David, here’s my bone to pick with men:

The other night I was watching an old movie on television while my current shag spooned me on the couch. My mind soon wandered away from the plot and towards a pleasing awareness that my lover’s body was lined up perfectly behind mine (as in, my butt was snuggled up in his crotch). Barely dressed on this hot summer evening, I realized how easy it would be for him to just, oh, slip it in. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. I reached behind me and grabbed for him, certain that I was about to experience some sweet lovin’. But instead of following my lead, he stopped my hand and whispered in my ear, “Shhh….let’s watch the movie.”

The movie? The movie! When, I ask you, did sex become secondary? (And what good is a f@#@ buddy if he isn’t going to f@!@ you?) I started thinking about the good old days when sex was new, exciting and sweet and easy as a convenience story Slurpy. Before laptops, before Blackberries, before cell phones, before compulsive flossing, before to-do lists, there was sex. Pure, horny, hard core, free, purposeless, joyful sex. We had sex because it was there. The way the early American explorers went West. Go West, young man, because it’s there! Come DO me, because I’m here!

I remember when I was 18, my college boyfriend and I would skip class, get high, turn on the Led Zeppelin and shag for hours on end. I still remember what it felt like – how there could be nothing better, nothing more interesting or worthwhile than sex. How, after all those years of frustrated teen-age fantasizing, it was finally real, in front of me. A beautiful naked man with whom I could do anything I wanted. An enthusiastic partner in experimentation who had nowhere else he needed or wanted to be. There was no such thing as performance anxiety – if the sex wasn’t perfect, who cared! We were going to have it again in 20 minutes anyway.

In those heady days, my entire wardrobe consisted of his white Hanes t-shirts. My official hairstyle was Bed Head. Food was mostly unnecessary, unless we had the munchies. If the TV was on, it was tuned to Whitesnake music videos or Hart to Hart re-runs, which somehow only made us want to have more sex. This is what I miss.

I’m curious, is it just me, or has it been a while for you since sex felt like that? As grown-ups, we want sex of course, but we also take it for granted. We’ve had it before, we’ll have it again. It’s kind of old hat. We have schedules and responsibilities, so sex gets shoved to the bottom of the to-do list. Sometimes it even gets bumped to the next day. I may not be 18 anymore, and neither are the guys I date (for the most part), but I want sex to feel like Christmas morning again. And I think it’s possible – for all of us. Guys, grab your girl and take her away for 36 hours. Pack no clothes. Bring the weed, or better yet, the Viagra. And see if you can’t practice the lost art of sex for sex’s sake. You’ll feel 18 again, I swear.

Thanks for the insight Foxy blond.

I must say that after last nights conversation and date, I no longer just want to dry hump this woman for 4 hours…I want to indulge in her body for 36 straight hours (and trust me Foxy Blond, I don’t need the Viagra!).