Bad Sex

It’s so bad, I think it needs a spanking.

WARNING: There’s clearly far too much information of a personal nature in this post. Anonymity makes that so easy here. But if my personal shortcomings can help just one person….. (Or entertain one. Whatever.) I do think this situation is not uncommon. Maybe we can bond over our sucky sex-lives! It’s also an extraordinarily heterocentric post. Sorry about that. And it's pretty sexist too because I'm lumping a whole lot of men together. I’m all over male/female crap tonight. And I'm making some gross generalizations. But of course there are men who are nothing like the string of guys I've been with. Um, where are you? (kidding!)

Waking Vixen wrote a series of bad sex posts (that is, good posts on bad sex). One of them hit so many bells I swear she’s been spying on me:

“…When Jeremy failed to satisfy on, I very tactfully made some suggestions about his technique; hell, I made my guidance sound like dirty talk. And he almost got it.

But then, the next time we had sex – fifteen minutes later - it was back to the same old thing, that thing that didn’t work for me. It went on like this, like a horrible broken record, me gently correcting him, and him generally mis-fucking me for hours. I began faking it, something I’d never done with a consistent partner, so he would just get off of me already. Unbelievable but true – I couldn’t keep up with him.

Lying in bed after a particularly awful, pussy-chapping fuck session, Jeremy put his arm around me and confessed that I’d been giving him the best sex of his life. The look on my face could only have been one of complete horror, though he didn’t seem to notice it. How was it possible that I was gritting my teeth and thinking of the queen while he was having the best sex ever? This seemed to me the ultimate in bad sex – sex that some else thinks is great. I found myself making excuses to avoid sex with him, angrily masturbating while he showered and thinking that maybe I understood why so many couples go sexless….”

Get out of my bedroom, Dacia. I know you’re hiding in there somewhere.

I almost completely gave up on men years ago because, as a big fan of one-night stands, there seemed to be a routine they all knew and practiced by rote. Kiss and grope all over with the clothes on. Get the clothes off. PIV for about six minutes with no attention paid to any other body part. Start snoring when I suggest what else we could do. In the morning, get annoyed that I have no intention of making breakfast or playing your little game again. Tell me, “Wow! I was pretty good last night! I don’t usually last that long!” Get dressed and leave.

No thank-you.

Then I met a guy who was all over me and up for serious sessions. He listened to my needs and did everything to meet them. A few years go by, and somehow he’s learned “the routine”. Who told him? I’m going to kill the bastard that let that leak.

I know there’s no “shoulds” in sex and all, but I’d like someone who’s willing to stay awake long enough, or go to bed early enough, for me to get a turn. A damn good turn.

I am not at all shy about taking about sex. I know what I like and ask for it. I know what I don’t like, and gently discourage it. Some things I’ve been asking for and others I’ve been discouraging every single time, yet he can’t seem to remember from one time to the next. I swear I’m going to make a tape of my "guidance" to play while we have sex. I’ll put some background music in; maybe even some Lamb of God for his pleasure. (Sigur Ros would be my pick. See how giving I am.)

He is a forgetful sort and all, but it makes me feel I’m not being listened to anymore. So I stopped wanting to play with him. It’s just too frustrating.

Another part of the problem is the stuff I don’t remind him about because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. It’s a catch-22. If I talk about what I don’t like, it ruins it for him both now and possibly in memories of the past (that is if he remembers anything). So I tolerate it, but then it completely ruins it for me. And then I just don’t want to go there anymore which ruins it for him too. I suppose the short-term pain is worth the long-term gain, but there sure is something to be said for starting over fresh. This time around, when we started out, I did tell exactly what I like and don’t like so we wouldn’t run into this conundrum. But I didn’t account for memory loss.

Somewhere recently I was reading about the difference between male and female libido. Women can be the hornier one, of course, but men tend to be more consistent whereas women’s desires tend to fluctuate monthly. That’s me alright.

Some days I can take it or leave it, but for about one week each month every cylindrical or globular object I see gets me going. My face is flush all day at work from all the thinking I’m doing. I want to come home and rip my guy’s clothes off. But we have three kids, and dinner won’t make itself, and god knows if we disappear however briefly, they’ll all suddenly desperately need us. So, I make a request: “Hey, how about we go to bed at 9:00 tonight!” But every single time he moans that he never has time for himself, or there’s a good movie he wants to watch, or something. He says he likes when I come on to him. But he won’t go for it. Ever. Under any circumstances. We’ve talked about it, and last time I made the 9:00 suggestion, he rolled his eyes and begrudgingly said, “Okay, I’ll come to bed with you, but then I’m getting back up.”

So, instead of six minutes then snoring, it’d be six minutes then leaving. As least I wouldn’t have to worry about waking him with all the bed shaking I’m doing. But I declined. I’d like some feigned enthusiasm at least.

I used to be a huge fan of outdoor sex. One night while walking home from a restaurant, with his parents at our house watching the kids, I tried to get him to go for it in the recycling depot. I had on a dress with nothing underneath. I knew his parents would hang around all bloody night making god-awful small talk until I fell asleep, so we needed to get it on before we got there, dammit! No go. Not even a nibble. I miss crazy spontaneous sex in weird places. But I can tolerate planning if that’s what’s necessary.

So we made a date on a Saturday night for 9:00. But he didn’t show up, so I came to find him. At 9:30 he was on-line looking to buy a new cell-phone. It was an emergency. I lay on the couch awaiting his caress. Then there was a movie he wanted to watch. I fell asleep. I was mad the next day. Apparently it’s my fault for not reminding him. But I don’t want to have sex with someone who needs to be reminded to get naked and wiggly with me. I’d rather have an amazing session alone, thanks. (I'm actually getting a bit bleary-eyed now. Which is why I'm writing about it all. It's important dammit!)

But I’ve also been thinking about the responsibility of pleasure. Even in a somewhat egalitarian relationship, it seems the burden is all on women, or on me anyway. And I’m tired of it, but I still want to have sex. If I stay with this guy, he may never change, but I might never meet another guy that doesn’t do the routine at first anyway.

If I’m with some random guy, and he’s not getting it up, I’m all over him doing a variety of things to get the party started. But if he’s hard, and I’m still dry, I get one of three responses: stop to wait for me to get myself going, or just keep on pushing until the lubing starts out of survival instinct. Or hork on me. Lovely.

I don’t want to be the turner-on any more. I want to be turned on by someone. And by that, I don't mean rubbed-up against. You know what does it? Just look at me like you want to fuck my brains out. Maybe even tell me I look good. Then almost touch me like you can barely contain yourself. Get my whole body involved at little bit at a time. I mean, I can be watching cartoons alone and get horny and get off without any drama. But if I’m with another person, would it kill him to pay attention?

I don’t want to ever have sex with someone without a serious attempt made to please me when I’m up for it and how I like it. Demanding little bitch, aren’t I. But it's not just about getting off, it's about not feeling used. It's too painful otherwise. Some intercourse at midnight? No thanks. PIV sex, for me, is all for him. I’m one of those difficult women. I know it takes me a good long ten seconds or so to come, but since servicing me is not going to get the boys off, do they really have to do it. Yuck. How dare I even suggest such a thing. But after I bitch about it enough, uh, I mean entice them enough, they might do their manly duty, but out of a sense of obligation. And because nobody wants to be called bad in bed. It’s just sheer laziness that makes it bad. No magical skills are needed. You shouldn’t have to sleep with 100 women to figure it out. One’s enough. It’s not difficult. But if you’re not into it, and if you have to be asked over and over, then nevermind. I’m good.

I mean I couldn’t imagine getting off, then ignoring the person I’m with when it’s obvious he’s not done. I really couldn’t imagine being that selfish or that exhausted. If I’m awake enough for me; I think I can hang in there for you too. Part of the fun of having sex is getting someone else off. Yet how many guys say that her pleasure is most important then stop once they get off. “But I can’t get it up right away.” Honey, you don’t need a hard-on or even a cock to make me sing. We don’t need to wait for nothin’!

It seems to me intercourse is an evolutionary fuck-up. I mean for many of us, men want long up and down motions, and women want little tiny side to side motions. You just can’t do both at once. Sure there are some lucky girls who get off on PIV. It’s because their clitoris extends right up against their vagina wall. I researched it all as a teen because I thought it was a problem that I didn’t like intercourse, but I absolutely loved leaning up against the dishwasher. Freud might think I’m frigid, but I don’t. And I don’t want to fuck him.

I know an awful lot of women who’ve told me they fake it regularly. They’ve given up. They get some physical contact, then help themselves to an orgasm with the shower/snoring as further enticement. It keeps everyone happy. Happy enough anyway. I was always surprised at this admission. But now I’m getting worn down too. And talking about it isn’t making us want each other at all.

And you know what else I’ve been thinking about? I find many guys have at least one skill they’re amazing at. Can’t someone put it all down in an instruction book, because I seem to really suck at explaining what to do without anyone getting annoyed. I don’t want a book on positions or anything. But the other stuff that gets me going. Like a kiss that literally makes me weak in the knees. There was a guy once who could bite my neck in a spot that I swear was directly attached to my groin. I actually asked him to teach me how he does it, but he says he doesn’t really know. Ya right! Maybe if we were all willing to share our little secrets, we could all be enjoying ourselves a whole lot more.

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I got all weirded out by students who got in heaps of trouble for insulting their principal on a website. I'm big on free speech (obviously), and I think I should be able to bitch about anyone here without repercussions of any kind. I happen to love my principal, but if I didn't, should I be strung up for saying so? Anyway, it was enough for me to ditch my photo. A few of you got to peek at me for a while. That's going to have to be enough. Maybe I'll find a photo of some random person and put it up. I kinda liked having a visual when I leave a comment.