Disclaimer: This is just a joke. Any similarities to my own sex life or lack thereof should not be construed.
Tag: sex
How Do You Know
how do you know you are loved
when the words aren’t spoken
and the old ways no longer
offer themselves as proof?
longevity should count
for something, right?
but emptiness fills
the bitter whole,
dried and empty,
aggravatingly
withdrawn
and, oh
so very
cold.
Slow Boat to Anywhere
i’d like to have you,
on a slow boat tonight
down a lazy river or
any port feels right.
whisper through wee hours
give into rhythm’s waves,
rock each other gently
and stay afloat for days.
far from shore we’d sail
then shelter in the cove,
skyclad ‘neath the stars
clothed in naught, save love.
Now, lest anyone think I was feeling amorous when I wrote this nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve got some sort of stomach bug, and I am doing my best to keep from being sick. Poor Studly Doright.
Peace, people.
Ancient Aliens
Studly Doright has permanent dibs on the tv remote. Usually, I’m okay with that, but when his search for programming stops on the series, Ancient Aliens, I go into full blown sarcasm mode.
If you haven’t had the pleasure (gag) of watching the History Channel’s Ancient Aliens you have no idea what you’ve been missing. Along with venereal disease and a bad case of poison sumac.
The premise of each episode is the same–to prove retroactively that groups of extraterrestrials were responsible for helping get the human race off the ground. The pyramids? Check. Stonehenge? Check. Mayan temples? Check. Epcot Center? Check.
If ancient edifices weren’t built by aliens as astronavigational facilities, they were erected as gigantic abodes primarily used for conjugal visits for whenever E.T. came to gift humanity with his otherworldly seed.
Yes, according to Ancient Aliens, we are most likely all descended from little green men. That explains a lot: Donald Trump, David Spade, Abe Vigoda.
On some episodes aliens are credited with being the gods of ancient mythology, and we know what a horny bunch they were.
I’m beginning to understand Studly Doright’s fascination with Ancient Aliens. It’s basically soft core space porn.
Peace, people!
We Know Them, Right?
the aging blonde hovering
beside a man half her age.
touching, always touching,
insinuating her presence.
her friend, a buxom brunette
hovers nearby, laughing,
competing, vying for the
attention of the alpha male.
the drama is intense; the
laughter raucous. thank
goodness I am the observer
and not the observed.
How Inappropriate!
mountain grown coffee
served with double entendre
good to the last drop
some like it so hot
smooth and rich, yet strongly brewed
i could go for that
you’re my cup of tea
often naughty, sometimes nice
always intriguing
In a Letter
If this song doesn’t make you want to dance there is something seriously wrong with you, and you should make an appointment with your physician as soon as humanly possible. Of course, that’s just my humble opinion.
Music by Clairy Browne and The Bangin’ Rackettes.
Peace, People.
What Love Is
Written in response to the Daily Post’s prompt, “What is Love?”
A marathon watching of the first season of “Married at First Sight” might be helpful in answering the question I Want to Know What Love Is. The A&E channel’s series matches three couples based on the recommendations of a team of marriage experts after a regimen of interviews.
The couples meet for the first time when the bride and groom face each other at the altar. Yep. They meet and immediately are wed.
For a period of five weeks the couples live together and get to know each other. At the end of that period they decide whether they want to stay married or divorce.
I’m watching the season finale as I type this. As anyone who has ever watched reality TV knows there is a great deal of creative editing involved, including multiple cliff hangers and red herrings. Every time I think about changing channels there’s a hint that something big is waiting just around the next corner. There have been multiple corners.
What I’m struck by, though, is the lack of what feels like love. Oh, I see glimpses of it occasionally, and the participants talk about love a lot. But more than anything I hear that they are afraid. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of making the wrong decision. Afraid of hurting the other person. Can the presence of fear inhibit love?
One thing that comes across in the series is the need for open communication. All three couples excel at that. No doubt the initial interview process weeded out the less communicative particpants. Can great communication foster love?
Initially, two of the three couples had strong physical attractions to their spouse-to-be. The third couple had mixed reactions–he thought she was hot, she thought he was not. Does love grow from physical attraction?
Jamie and Doug-No attraction in the beginning
Two of the three couples consummated their marriage on their wedding nights. You can probably guess which two after reading the previous paragraph. Is love sex?
Cortney and Jason
Monet and Vaughn
Both of these couples had the whole honeymoon experience 😉
None of the couples had smooth sailing in their first five weeks of marriage. Cohabitation with a complete stranger can bring out the best and the worst in people. Expectations were dashed. Limits were explored. Maybe love was growing.
As the decisions loom I’m more anxious than the participants. Would Studly and I have thrived given the circumstances these couples have faced? I’d like to believe we’d have made it. I’d like to believe that we’d have had that initial spark when he first saw me at the altar and that we’d have had the skills to talk through all of the obstacles.
The truth is love is different for everyone. Every relationship explores its own idea of love. What’s right for Studly and me, what makes us strong as a couple might be wrong for another couple.
Remember these cartoons? This seems to fit.
And the results from the show are in:
In spite of their initial lack of attraction, Jaimie and Doug chose to remain married. I was surprised! Cortney and Jason opted to remain married, as well. While Monet and Vaughn elected to divorce.
Of course I just realized that this was all so last season and I could have looked up the results on the internet. Face palm.
Peace, (and love) People.
Fifty Shades of Hey! Revisited
I published this piece back in July, but thought now that the movie is out it should make another appearance.
Fifty Shades of Hey!
As the movie trailers for Fifty Shades of Grey began appearing on Facebook this week I stopped to reflect on my own interaction with the novel.
I tried reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Honestly. The hype was bubbling around the book like fizzy soda, and avid reader that I am, I inhaled those bubbles and dove right in. For all of maybe 50 pages of 50 shades. Then, I called a friend.
“Hey, you’re reading Fifty Shades of Grey, right?
“Ummm, yes,” she moaned.
“Does it get better?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried.
I hung up.
I read another hundred pages. I still didn’t get it. Who was this inner goddess, and why didn’t I have one? Did the inner goddess perhaps serve as a replacement for a personality? Was there supposed to be sexual tension between Mr. Grey and Miss Steele? Did I need to reassess my definition of sexual tension?
I called another friend.
Hey, I’m reading that book you recommended, Fifty Shades of Gray.
All I heard was buzzing in the background.
“Hey!” I said, a little more forcefully. “Does the couple in the book ever actually do anything?”
Our connection must have been bad; the buzzing continued, only more loudly.
I hung up.
“Perhaps I should skip to a sex scene,” I thought.
It was a little difficult to determine exactly where in the book that sex scene took place, though. There were so many rules, regulations, and tools involved. It read more like an orientation for shop class than a sex romp.
I called my husband.
“Hey, Studly,” I said. “Do you think we need a contract for sex?”
“Huh?”
“You know, a contract so you can’t be found legally responsible if I get hurt during intimate relations.”
He guffawed. “Intimate relations! That’s a good one!”
I hung up. What a sadist.
Peace, People.
Castles
Hallways grand, roughly chiseled
Stone walls, tapestried, still allowed
Chill to seep into bones grown cold.
Flames sequestered in recessed
Walls burned day into night with no
Pause inside the draft-filled keep.
Lute played softly, backdrop for a
Feast served in trenchers. Crusty
Bread sopped in juices, shoveled
Indelicately, scraps left for serfs and
Canines to scrabble over long after
Feast’s end. Snarling dogs compete.
Lords, ladies, retreat to chambers
Above the hall, met by servants in
Rooms kept warm for master’s use.
Candles extinguished, madame
Feigns exhaustion sending her liege
To the dressing room, adjacent.
Silently, love’s scented mimic slides
‘Neath brocaded bedcovers worn
Soft as new-shorn sheep, seeking
Warmth as much as lust’s touch.
Whispers a welcome, shivers from
Pleasures greedily anticipated.
How’s that for an innocent poem about castles turning into a bit of lustful folly? When I started writing I had no intention of taking the poem to the bedroom. It wandered there all by itself. Naughty little thing.
Praying for Eyebrowz 