Search This Blog

Monday, April 17, 2017

Internal Same Page Action

The Conversion (winky winky) of Paula by St. Jerome – Lawrence Alma Tadema
Being on the same page is a thing of beauty.

You’re out on a date, let’s say, and things are getting steamy sexy and you’re def happy about that. Are you psyched because you’re in massive like, maybe even love, with your soon to be carnal tango partner? No? Is this mondo exciting because you’re a big fan of the up close and snuggly whoopee action? FUN!

Either way (BOTH at the same time even!) is totes coolio BUT only if you’re reading from the same libretto.  That is, if she thinks it's a friends with bennies offhand thing but he thinks it means you're gonna start reading the real estate section together – nae good. Much messy, messy post play activity is in the offing.

Of course, it really helps if you know your own mind. Duh.
Pair Embracing – Egon Schiele

Women are taught that sex equals love – at least that’s what Catholic school chiquitas like me were taught in the ‘60s and ‘70s. The lesson drilled into us babelettes with enorme prejudice – making the two backed beast should only happen when accompanied by hearts, flowers and the possibility of diamonds. 

 For me, this made teenage (AND young adult) hook-ups very confusing. We had sex – I'm supposed to be all love-you-madly now but I just don't feel it. CONFUSING! AND If boys can run around having sexy fun time with random hotties, why can’t I? Am I being punished for some stupid reason? Also, who are the boys playing cazh Saint George with since girls aren’t allowed? Made no sense to me.

My first? Some dude I worked with at the local movie theater. I was a candy girl (yes, yez, how appropriate) and he was an usher. It was summer, I was bored and certain that I was the last virgin on the planet. I was IN NO WAY interested in more than sheet shakin’ with Doob but, afterwards, I thought I was supposed to be. I went from being just in it for the Waka Waka action to expecting to be walked to my classes and bought a damn Tinsel Ball corsage. It was nuts – I really wasn’t into this guy BUT the pre-programmed gender role expectation bullshit told me different. I was a mess.
The Tree of Life – Gustav Klimt

Were Doob and I on the same page? Hells bells, I wasn’t on the same page with myself. It took eons for me to get an awareness of who I was and what I wanted (and that entirely depends). It’s SO much WAY better to know wut up goin’ in. I know, I know, having a “is this a hot-but-chill hook-up or is this LURV” convo ahead of time isn’t all Hollywood happy sex scene-ish but life doesn’t follow a neat script.

IF I ever date again, I want to know, within reason, the score before me and Date Boy hit the field (or bed). Knowing how I feel and what I want is the bestest place to start.

I was originally thinking about advice I'd like to give the grands beyond "you tell that boy, no rainhat/no happy time!" I suppose it'd be this – know yourself. Know what you want.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

~Willy the Shake

No comments:

Post a Comment