Thoughts From the Celibate Side

Let's talk about sex, baby.

After a passionate and somewhat graphic discussion with a good friend over lunch yesterday, I realized that women in general have done me - yes, me personally - a grand disfavor. It has come to my attention over the course of several months that men of similar age and status as I have been very well trained to approach sex in a certain way - slowly, tenderly, and with great regard for the needs of their partner.

Pardon my vulgarity (again), but what a fucking shame. Feel free to read that literally.

Gone are the youthful days of quick, violent, exploratory, fun sex. Now, every man I know talks of "foreplay" and "the g spot" and (oh, God help me) "cuddling." And every single one of them is convinced that this utter tripe is what women in general want and need. And let's don't forget that each of them brings with them years of that training I mentioned earlier, which has effectively eradicated any trace of the bullish and blind-with-hormones young men that each of them surely were. Should my absent husband decide to stay absent, I am doomed to spend the sexual prime of my life bored out of my fucking skull.

Ladies, you've taught your men to be anything but men. Men rut. They sweat. They push and pull, grab and tear. They eat your pussy just to hear you scream while they hold your hips so you can't escape the excruciatingly pleasurable pain. They take their pleasure as they will, with no regard for you or your "needs." And men - men the way they were made to be - will expect you to do the same . Our ridiculous quasi-feminist culture has taught men to subvert the very thing that attracts us to them in the first place: their raw, unadulterated power. Their sensed and half-feared ability to take what they want, when they want, how they want.

The only power we've ever had in this regard is the fact that once they thrust inside our slippery and fragrant darkness, they are no longer in control. And that - that moment of utter truth, perfect honesty, and the true nature of Man - that is the thing I crave. That is what I want. I don't want "sharing." I don't want questions about what position is most pleasurable for me. I don't want endless distractions in order to escape the inevitable. And I will be happy for the rest of my days if I never, ever, ever hear the question "did you come?" again. Who cares? I'll get mine eventually, believe it. I don't want a man to give a rat's ass about my "needs," I want it RAW. I want to see the MAN who thrusts blindly and uncontrollably because he cannot help himself. I want to feel the barely contained rage as I take my lips from his shaft in teasing little increments; the frightening speed with which he will pin me, my hair firmly held in a fist, to brutally finish what I teasingly started - because he cannot wait. I want sex - pure sex - no questions, no expectations, come-as-you-are-and-leave-your-training-behind sex.

Observation, experimentation, and discussion reveal the sad conclusion that I'm not going to get what I want, I'm going to get what other women want. Thanks a lot, girls.