Thursday, 31 July 2008

I Like Me So Much Better


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I had a friend called Keith whose sage words of advice in times of trouble were
  • Get Drunk
  • Get Laid
  • Get Over It

He didn't stand by that rule all the time. For example, when a large truck compressed Keith's brain into a smaller space than the space it was meant to occupy (to whit, Keith's skull) he went into a coma for a few days, then suffered total amnesia, which left him unable to remember that he had dumped his girlfriend three months previously, and started seeing someone else. The dumped ex, who had been wondering how to win him back, got to the hospital before the new girlfriend, and Keith's life got a little bit complicated.

But we're talking about bad sex here.

I don't mean baaaad sex, involving an Isaac Hayes CD, a bottle of supermarket vodka, and some MDMA. I'm not talking about Coyote Ugly sex either, where you find yourself gnawing your own arm off the next morning just you can get out before the other person* wakes up.

*I'm making an assumption here. I hope I haven't offended your lifestyle.

I'm talking about transition sex; the times in your life when bad sex can be just what the doctor ordered - or just what the nurse offered, if that's your preference.

Now, before you think this is about what I got up to last night, it isn't. I got up to the Merry Monk last night, where I had three pints of cider, and discussed Russian hackers attacking the local authority's housing benefits system; that's what I got up to last night.

There were no scenes of a sexual nature, or people of a sexual nature. It's not that sort of pub. This is just a long-winded introduction to the little tune that's going round my head this morning.

Ida Maria has written a brilliant song about meeting a guy, and not knowing what to say, and finding that she's just talking complete bollocks. (You're going to tell me this has never happened to you?) She even finds herself smoking a cigarette, and she's not really sure what for.

But she suggests that the guy take her home, and then she suggests that he might like to take all his clothes off. Which he obligingly does (he must like her, I guess.) And she immediately feels much happier. She likes him much better when he's naked. She likes herself much better, too. Result.. Happy ending!



All the clever
things I should say to you
They got stuck somewhere
Stuck between me and you

Oh I'm nervous
I don't know what to do
Light a cigarette
I only smoke when I'm with you.

What the hell do I do this for?
You're just another guy
OK, you're kind of sexy
But you're not really special

But I won't mind
If you take me home
Come on, take me home

I won't mind
if you take off all your clothes
Come on, take them off

'Cause I like you so much better when you're naked
I like me so much better when you're naked
I like you so much better when you're naked
I like me so much better when you're naked.
IDA MARIA

3 comments:

I, like the view said...

what's MDMA?

(I've led such a naive and protected life)(so far)

I always thought the worse kind of sex was the two brown bags sex (not just one for him, but one for you - in case his fell off)

until I experienced the really really worst sort of sex - where he jerks off, while you describe your lesbian fantasy; then he falls asleep

that's "get up, get dressed and get out of there" sex (I just made that up on the spur of the moment, but it kind of works, huh)(of course, if it's your own home you're in, you GU, GD & GOOT and go round to the local coffee shop until you think he might have gotten the hint and removed himself from the vicinity)

Gordie said...

I'm looking forward to being part of your unprotected life. (I figure it's going to be less messy, and way more fun, and with any luck it could be deep and spiritual as well.)

Falling asleep is an important part of sex, but you are meant to do it together, and afterwards, rather than separately and during.

Helpful hint: sex is always better if you're jerking off the other person. That way, you get to decide when he has an orgasm, and when he falls asleep. (If you're really good at this, you can call a taxi, and get it to arrive just when you need it.)

Or, if you don't want to run away, you could try finding a man who's multi-orgasmic.

MDMA is very Googlable, but since I know you subscribe to New Scientist, I'll just say 3,4 - methylenedioxy - N - methylamphetamine.

It's the active ingredient in Ecstasy, and on a good day, will mke you horny, euphoric, and slightly in love with the person you're with. But it costs more than brown paper bags.

I, like the view said...

I think my brain has a natural supply of that, actually. . .

and I don't need any hints, helpful or otherwise, funnily enough (but thanks for being so caring) - the thing is, there is always a first time for something and I had a first (and a last time) re really really bad sex and was just sharing it with you

sometimes you don't know what's going to happen until you find out what happens

all part of life's learning curve, and that experience was, for me, the far end of the continuum of sex (good or otherwise) (or a tiny dot in the spectrum of sex, perhaps, if we're being non-linear and slightly more 3-D about it) - there has to be one, right? I had just decided not to be in the driving seat for a change and to go wherever I was taken

I learnt my lesson

ho hum