My aunt apprised me the other day that the women in our family suffer from early onset of menopause. This means that the years of natural lubricated sex in my life can be counted on the fingers of my hand. My dalliance with chastity be damned, I was going to fruitfully use up my time before estrogen gave up on me.
I decided to indulge in bed games with guys who I KNOW would not feature in my future.
On the other hand, for the guy who caused my rapidly deteriorating womb to rouse from its despondency, I would plan to delay gratification. The reason being pretty simple- for the latter I want to continue to hold mysterious allure and challenge (and play the age old game of dangling the intercourse bait- as Beyonce widely sang, ‘if you want it, you gotta put a ring on it’). For the former, its two ships passing in the night phenomenon anyways- so why not engage in some friendly honking while keeping my emotions intact.
However, woe betide me - I think it’s important to use an old English phrase given the rapid carbon dating condition of my chastity belt… I have struggled to find the occasional ship. Moreover, the fear of sexual transmitted diseases definitely has laid restraints on any spontaneous amorous intent. In order to circumvent such considerations, I sought advice from my experienced friends to take on a temporary paramour aka ‘friend with benefits’.
The first advice I received from a friend was to refrain calling a partner in such a liaison as a ‘friend’. The raison d’être being that as soon as the said paramour is a friend, we are doomed to vicissitudes of female emotion. Great sex combined with laughter, understanding and friendship usually goes one way for most women- and that is downhill, spelling emotional upheaval. The concept of ‘friend with benefit’ is apparently a male concept since most men find it easy to disassociate testicular driven interest from emotional connection.
The formula, I have been advised is to act like a man – i.e. engage in a satisfying amour without tangling up in emotions. I have been instructed to find someone who I will barely be able to have a conversation with but who will make me do cartwheels in bed and find muscles in places where I thought only fat resided. I have been told that the complete lack of emotion once the urge has been fulfilled, the absence of the need to cuddle, the ability to walk away and sleep alone and secure in my bed with only my fluids and stale breath to battle in the morning, will make the experience worthwhile and cathartic.
Another of my friend noted that women who have a good sex life are far more interesting. The reason apparently is that they are able to concentrate on the higher things in life once the base animal need to bump and grind has been satisfied. I was also told by a 23 year old that 30+ women often reek of desperation and the lines on our face are less of experience and more of frustration. So the decision to get your knickers off and get a piece of heaven apparently also pays off in terms of deferred expenses on face lifts.
Another friend happily notes that the occasional roll in the hay has helped to bring the sparkle back to all things seemingly dreary and mundane in her life. She can once again afford to spend precious hours of her rapidly depleting sexual life and listen to Fareed Zakaria and The State of the Union (ever tried to interest yourself in national and international politics when your mind and body are screaming for some sexual congress?), battle against her screaming female instincts to learn the basics of American football (btw- why is it that Americans corrupt regular sports with meaningless violence- see ice hockey, American football, WWF- need I say more?) and get her groove back to attract the erudite lot of the opposite sex.
So ladies, our instincts are natural- indulge in bed games occasionally, it does not make you a person of questionable morals but rather does wonder to your ego and physical allure… as Cosmo said.. climax your way to a better skin!!!
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