Mind Of Man: Why Guys Want “Starts With An A, Ends With -Nal” Sex
Finally. I thought I’d answer one of the big questions I’ve been asked over and over again, the question you ladies are dying to know the answer to. Are you ready?
We want anal sex because if we ask you if we can, and you say yes, even begrudgingly, then that is awesome. I don’t even know if the majority of guys even like anal sex, but that you’d say “yes” to such a dirty, unladylike request is what makes it oh-so-worthwhile.
I had a girlfriend once who told me she loved doing it. She didn’t, of course, but she loved me, and I loved her, and when she whispered in my ear one night that she’d love me to do that, I thought, “Awww, how romantic.” She assumed that since I was a guy, I’d be into anal sex. I wasn’t, and am not, but her loving offer was sizzling hot. Like, sizzling hot enough to make pancakes. Or waffles. WAFFLES!
Of course, weeks later, she asked me to itch a particular scratch of hers, and out came the silk scarves. Silk scarves? Really? Don’t birthday magicians pull those out of sleeves? We tried it, and she tied me up with silk scarves. We did this more than once, and while it did nothing for me, the fact that it reduced her to a puddle of sentient liquid steel from which she would later reform herself a la “Terminator II” was what eventually turned me. And, huh, that’s the point.
Men are a lil’ bit obsessed with anal sex, sure, and it is clear our obsession is making many of you (even more) neurotic. Hell, I’m obsessed with it, but in the abstract. Much like mouth love, I am not particularly fond of, um, “non-traditional penetrative sex.” I’m not a prude. I just like it very “let’s do it my genital in your genital”-style and then, later, role-playing “Minotaur versus Sexy Ninja.” Guess who’s the Minotaur? (Wrong.)
Men are obsessed with carnal posterior affection partly because we want what we’re denied, but mainly it’s a power thing. Sure. Absolutely. It does not look like it feels especially great for the woman receiving this special gift. I mean, in pornography that particular act usually looks like the woman is being split in half. Done properly, slowly, with enough lubricant, safe word agreed upon, there should be no ouchies. But, from what I understand, it’s uncomfortable, and then there’s the cost of doing business, namely the very natural byproduct, substances if you will, that are present, and expected, from that part of the anatomy. But if we ask, and you say yes, chances are that’s all we really want. Not to lord over you, to force you to do something you don’t want, but to just get a kinky green light.
And here’s the thing: You should let him explore your dark sun, at least once. I’m assuming, of course, that he’d be the sort of guy who would react positively, if not sensitively, to you screaming, “Get that the hell out of me, you son of a walrus!” In a loving, committed, monogamous relationship, there should be no penalty for asking to indulge in a taboo fetish, providing no one is getting emotionally or physically damaged. That goes both ways, of course. I mean, it would be wrong for me to say it’s just dudes who are bashful about talking about what turns them on, and revealing the names of the naughty little sex goblins in their subconscious. (I’ve named mine Little Miss Tickles, Consuela, and She-Ra.) Women are equally as insecure about admitting what it is they need to turn them on and get them off. Let’s just stop that, shall we? Understand that your partner needs stuff, and you should provide it, within reason, to the best of your abilities, because it will be reciprocated. I will add the disclaimer: ideally.
Be safe, honest, no pointing and laughing, no spontaneous barfing, and try what he needs once. Just once. If your displeasure is so acute, more so than his pleasure, then a game of “we gave it the ol’ college try” should suffice. Any bullying or cajoling or begging thereafter is ungentlemanly and, therefore, tantamount to douchebaggery. It’s not that, err, bottom sex is a better fit, really. So don’t buy that line. If it’s sexy it’s because it’s wrong. Wrong can be right in this regard. It’s wrong, and taboo, and permission to explore that, as I’ve said, is totes wow.
Which brings me to another topic. There isn’t a classy way to write about anal sex, is there? Even if I referred to it by another name, one that doesn’t use the word “anal,” or “butt,” it would still probs mortify my mother, for instance. Even if I referred to it as, I don’t know, “buttering the scone,” or “reading Virginia Woolf out loud,” or “buckling the elf’s itty bitty boot,” we’d still know what I was writing about, and it would still sound gross. Surfing the forbidden flume? No? OK.