“Sex without intimacy is an unnecessarily complicated form of masturbation.” — Paul Sunstone
[Asshole Mode On] Please pardon my French, but I don’t have a polite way to say this at the moment. Don’t waste energy and effort rushing into sex like sex was some sort of football game and you were a lineman who had to charge headlong into fucking like your life depended on you getting a little ass.
Just don’t rush in.
Allow yourself to grow into it instead.
You will, you know, you’ll grow into it naturally, inevitably. Trust me! It happens! You’ll know you’re ready when you are at last with a real decent partner and you feel like you will die — DIE! — if you can’t fuck them that very moment. That’s how it feels to be emotionally ready for it.
And for the sake of the weeping gods, use condoms or some other medically approved protection, you hideous, perving morons! [/Asshole Mode Off]
(About a 7 minute read)
Guys, I apologize for a bossy post title, but I just could not resist the alliteration. A good phrase has so often been my undoing in life. Twice, for instance, I said, “Make it happen!”, at the worst possible moment.
“Make it happen” is one of my favorite phrases. I stole if from my younger brother. My bro is superb at making even seemingly impossible things happen. But twice, I’ve said it when I should have thought before I said it. “Do you, Paul, accept this woman as your lawfully wedded wife…”.
“Make it happen!”
“I’ll take that as an ‘I do’. You may now kiss the wench.”
(About a 2 minute read)
A very experienced man, Patrick, tells me that the most pleasurable sex he’s ever had in his life came about as a one-night stand with a perfect, but perfectly skilled, stranger.
Patrick has been married for at least a dozen years to the love of his life.
I myself cannot say quite the same thing as him about the best sex. The best sex I have had came about within a committed relationship. But I do think I can confirm that — in terms of pleasure — sexual skillfulness can go quite far towards making up for a relative lack of emotional intimacy.
Confirm that for me, if for no one else.
Put differently, the notion that emotional intimacy is absolutely key to sexual pleasure might be a myth — at least for some people. For while intimacy certainly enhances sexual pleasure for most of us, so too does skillfulness for most of us.
Our culture does not recognize that fact. We are so often told that almost everything depends on emotional intimacy and emotional intimacy alone. But is our culture doing us a service there?
I recall another friend of mine, Jennifer, telling me she stayed in an abusive relationship for six or seven years because she had convinced herself that surely she must be in love with her abuser or otherwise the sex would not be as mind-blowing as it was.
Was she encouraged to think that way by our culture? Or was that her own idea? Or both?
Who really knows?
It would be nice to see some science on the subject. A few surveys might give us an idea how most of us rank emotional intimacy relative to sexual skillfulness. In the end, however, there is no substitute for figuring out your own answer to the question.
As for myself, I am greedy and want both. Give me warm intimacy and cold ice cubes!
(About a 2 minute read)
I am of the alarming opinion that American and United Kingdom sex education is rather on the deficient side, crazy as my opinion might sound to this blog’s typically well-informed readers.
Nevertheless, even if that is so, there is fair and just cause for joint UK – USA pride.
We both beat India.
(About a 6 minute read)
The first I noticed that Geri — our sales office secretary — might have a more than usually interesting sexuality was when she put Chicago’s “Daily Sex Tips Hotline” on every speakerphone in the office.
That’s to say, Geri went desk to desk, dialed the Hotline’s number into all of our phones one after the other, and punched the “speaker” button. The whole office was soon singing, “Men often do not play nearly enough with their partner’s breasts and nipples…”.
(About a 6 minute read)
It is easy to fall for the cliché that ours is the most sexually liberated age in history. It might be actually closer to the truth if we were to think of ourselves as among the most sexually complicated ages in history.
I was thinking tonight what if I happened to be fondling your butt and we were lovers, but not really friends. Would I be fondling your butt any differently than if we were friends?
And I think, yeah, I think I would be. I think — if we were not friends — I would be fondling your butt mostly for my own sake. But if we were indeed friends, then I’d be fondling your butt for both our sakes. I would want us both to win.
Just a reflection I had tonight after overhearing someone yesterday at my corner coffee shop tell her girlfriend that she didn’t want to date some guy because he was her friend — and she didn’t want to risk losing him as a friend.
Hah! Wish I could fondle her butt! I’d show her the error of her ways!
(Inexplicably, she declined my offer of participating in a scientific experiment to test her hypothesis about sex and friendship. Even went so far as to call me “a dirty old man”! Me! The twenty-somethings these days! Not at all as friendly as we were back in my day. She wouldn’t even tell me her name. There are no sensible people left! It’s all cold, aloof wackos out there now! Nutjobs and wackos!)
All the best,
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Paul offers his take on the morality of putting people to narrow uses, such as only being interesting in someone for sex, or only for their entertainment value.
THE CRITICS GO NUCLEAR! “Once again, Paul Sunstone has taken it upon himself to discuss morality. Hence, once again he has taken it upon himself to load a high calibre rifle with a shotgun shell. Typical Sunstone, he is oblivious to the fact the shell didn’t fit, and he is just as oblivious to the fact his notion of morality does not fit the moral requirements nor standards of human nature. Sunstone is proposing a moral code for bacteria.” — Gus “Gunning Gus” Johnson, The Blog Critic’s Column, “Leper’s Gulch Gazette”, Leper’s Gulch, Colorado, USA.
(About a 20 minute read)
Many a beautiful friendship has sprouted from awkward soil. In fact, most of my deepest friendships in life have begun clumsily.
I know of no inviolate law of nature that dictates the conservative beige panties of a young school librarian cannot possibly be the start of a profound bond between her and an insufferably horny 14 year old boy misfit. I know of no law that states such a thing cannot happen.
Yet the very last thing on my mind when Sharon’s angry voice shook me awake that Spring morning was, “This is the start of a beautiful friendship”.
(About a 10 minute read)
Chris was one of the prettiest, most shapely beauties in our high school. She was also one of the few in that category that I actually desired enough to want so much more than a casual friendship with.
You see, Chris was — like me — a bit of an outcast. We had the same bad reputation. Folks said I had “quite a temper”, a “sharp tongue”, and that I was “contrary” — meaning that I tended to oppose things for no better reason than for the sake of opposing them.
Folks said exactly the same things about Chris. She had quite a temper, a sharp tongue, and — of course, being female, the word wasn’t “contrary” — Chris was a “bitch”.
(About a 5 minute read)
It has long been my personal, tender opinion that the pure Japanese genius for first seeing nearly everything as an aesthetic experience, and for then optimizing the aesthetics of those experiences — that the Japanese genius for that has only been defeated once — and once only — in the entire cultural history of that remarkable people.
The Japanese genius for aesthetics was overthrown when it took on sex.