Thursday, August 24, 2006

Raging Mojo


So an understanding of the principles of sexual attraction, continues to elude me in a big way. I'm aware that I'm not an especially good looking guy with a less-than-stellar physique and plenty of personality issues that would account for eight sequels to 'One flew over the cuckoos nest', but I do have good points as well:

I'm tall, I'm very solidly built (in that disgusting boys-can-eat-anything and-still-get-muscles kind of way), I look vaguely threatening and bad-boyish (though I'm really nothing of the sort), I have a couple of tattoos (which suggests ill breeding and loose upbringing) and I have a quick wit, which endears me to the mass populous.

What I don't understand is why some months, women treat me like I'm invisible and other months, I feel like the guy in the Axe Effect commercial. It's not perception, either. The difference is palpable and the interest is constant.

I know that pheremones probably play a part in it. All that stuff about attraction being on a chemical/ sub-atomic level might sound like pseudo science to you, but how else can you explain the divorce between the rational and the carnal reasons for being attracted to someone? You can't. Pheremones play a part.

Another thing, when my depression lifts, my energy becomes palpably more positive and women seem to pick up on that. Or, to extend the pheremone thing, maybe the depression stifles my natural pheremone production so the ladies don't pick up on my desperate signals to get their attention. This is likely, because when I'm down I have as much interest in sex as I would in having my bare ass spanked by a 6-foot swedish dominatrix, dressed as a traffic warden.

Ok, bad example.

Another thing: when my mojo is on, I find I can better control what we tantricallly refer to as 'dry orgasms'. It's when I come without ejaculating, which helps me recover faster so I can do it more. It's a little known fact that ejaculation and orgasm in men are two separate functions and if you train yourself to separate them, you're doing yourself (and the young lady) a lot of favors.

When I'm depressed, I have a harder time controlling the length of copulation (not quite a two-pump chump but no marathon either). I've also known the 'seed' doesn't look like it's the kind I'd use to make a baby: weak, lacking in color and volume-challenged.

Hmmm. I just read this post back to myself and even I'm grossed out. Still, candor is the ally of the clear-minded. That's not a saying, but it should be. I make stuff up all the time. A couple of years ago, I told my boss that during Christmas, in certain towns in the North of England, people cheerfully greeted each other with the bizarre expression 'Don't bugger the fat man'. I explained to him that this arose out of the joking concern that because the men drank so much over the holidays, there was a danger they might return home suddenly, walk in on Santa Claus depositing the gifts, mistake him for their (rather hefty) wives and have sex with him instead. My boss cried tears of hearty laughter and I never told him that I had made that whole thing up, just because I could. I dread to think he might travel to Newcastle and greet a random miner with a jubilant 'Don't bugger the fat man'. Because the fat man will probably bugger him.

Speaking of candor, I knew a couple of girls who had the ability to ejaculate when they came. Not all the time, just sometimes. It was this clear, water-like fluid that wasn't especially sticky and it gushed out like a geyser. They reported that it usually accompanied the kind of mind-bending orgasms that have sold a billion airport romance novels. The girl would then look up at me as if I was some kind of genius, when really all I did was jiggle the lock on the door a few random times, the way I normally do, while maintaining an expression of knowing concentration.

I don't know what I'm doing down there. Nobody does and it's not from lack of training. Most women don't understand two things about vaginas, probably because they've only ever dealt with their own:

1. They're like fingerprints: no two are alike.
2. No two work the same way.

Every time you're with a new woman, you have to re-discover the things that get her off. Plenty of foreplay can be the shit in some quarters, others prefer to hit the fast forward until they get to the straight-up fucking. Even identifying magic spots, like the ear or the nipples or the soft area behind the knee, can be problematic. Some women like a soft touch during intercourse, others prefer a rough motion; some get off only with cunnilingus, others don't see the point to it. Depending on who you ask, tossed salads can be one girl's cup of tea, or her poisoned chalice.

There's absolutely no consistency whatsoever and it can be extremely confusing. That, to me, is the major argument for monogamy: perfecting your ability to get a specific someone off (of course, the old joke rears itself at this point: Why do women fake orgasms? Because they assume we care). I even knew this one girl who couldn't bear to have it touched, during oral sex. All I could do was blow on it with a steady, cool gust, and that got her off.

How did I get on to this? Stream of blogness-ness is kind of scary..

6 Comments:

Blogger Global Cairene said...

I liked this post. Does this mean I'm a pervert?

6:38 AM  
Blogger Basil Fawlty said...

Probably. Then again you're in good company. On the other hand, I've gone to all the pervert meetings and you're never there.

12:30 PM  
Blogger Global Cairene said...

Yes. I do need to catch up on goings on in the perv society.

5:20 AM  
Blogger Reformed Cynic said...

Men just need to ask for directions.

6:39 PM  
Blogger Basil Fawlty said...

That would be the practical thing to do, RC, but who wants a practical man in the bedroom? It's like I invite you over to my house for a piano solo and I keep stopping to consult "Piano playing for dummies".

The only thing less appealing than a man who asks for directions is a man who asks for permission.

8:07 PM  
Blogger Reformed Cynic said...

I disagree. I think with charm and playfulness (charm and brooding intensity, for some women) you can get away with just about anything. Oh, and a sexy voice: key. Every woman I've ever met is in agreement about the voice thing, with the exception of one: Shereen. She is, for all intents and purposes, a man with ovaries.

6:31 PM  

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