I start and stop and start and stop.  How to talk about sex.  Is it the feeling?  Does every woman get that ache deep inside them that really just requires forceful stimulation?  Sometimes it feels almost painful, the wanting.  It has been a while since I felt like that.  That kind of desire has been unattainable for me.  Saying that out loud feels like an admission of failure.  Like I have lost my slut card.  Like I should be embarrassed that I have a hard time getting off.  Me?  Once upon a time that was a pretty laughable idea.  I lost that with the first pregnancy.  For a long time it was difficult to orgasm.  I didn’t always.  I know that’s “normal” in the sense that it is within the range of common experiences.  That’s not how my body worked.

I really love sex.  I know that’s a common obsession and all, but I think I have been a bit more enthusiastic than most.  For me having sex once a week feels like a Saharan drought.  And the more sex I have the more I want.  When I’m not fucking up my hormones or depressed.  I’d like to find out what life is like with no hormonal birth control in my system.  I remember feeling the kind of desire for sex that I read about in stupid romance novels.  So there.

I had some of that on Saturday.  There is a specific flavor of avaricious sexuality that really works for me.  Naked aggression in the service of voracious sexual appetite turns me on.  Men who want to get laid a lot have to learn how to play games.  Yes yes, we all try to pretend that if they are honest and up front about their emotions they’ll get what they won’t.  But it’s a big dirty awful lie.  Just ask my poor hen pecked husband.

Ok, the hotness.  There are approaches to women that work better than others.

The Slime Over: this is where you sidle over to stand next to one of those passive women who doesn’t tell people no and you start pushing.  You keep the conversation going and you escalate glacially slowly so that it always seems like saying “no” is an over reaction.  Obviously, this approach is not my favorite.  When I see this response my response is to want to slam the dear perv nearby in the nose with a newspaper and say “Bad dog”.

Then there is Cocky Bastard: you know you are hot shit.  The problem here is that you have to actually have an extensive resume (academic, work, social climbing) and that looks a lot like work.  And even once you have the right to think you are hot shit… you will still need to work on presentation.  Smug is hard to pull off right.

God’s Gift: just assume that regardless of accomplishments or not the woman you approach is thoroughly hot for you… and then play hard to get.  It gets me every time.  Bastard men.  I want to have to do some chasing.  But just a little.  I have low self esteem.  If you actually resist me I will walk away fast.

Lost Boys: these are the ones who read as nasty aggressive mean assholes to pretty much everyone in the whole wide world.  And in private they tell me about being raped as a child.  Or beaten.  Or… and they cry.  And I help them feel more whole again.  I give them love and acceptance around something deeply painful.  Then they go back to being nasty aggressive mean assholes to pretty much everyone in the whole wide world… except me.

These are the big ones.  These are my big “types” in my men.  I’m not sure when they became men.  That’s pretty recent.  I just can’t bring myself to look at Noah and call him a boy any more.  Even if he is biting his finger nail as I type.  He’s cute.  I have learned a lot about men in the last five years.  I have learned a lot about what it means to be a boy or a man.  I really like men.  I like people who are responsible and honorable and dependable.  It’s all entwined.  And I’m not really explaining the slut thing yet.  I’m really tired though and tomorrow I paint.  I need to go to bed.