Sexually Speaking...

I'm sure you've all met them, the person who talks about sex and body parts like they're brought to you by big bird and the color blue - sleeping with the person who turns green when they even think about having to refer to an engorged body part...

So now I want to write about all the reasons for why talking about sex either has to come under the guise of complete nonchalance or it has to be pried out through the teeth like a g-string behind lock-jaw. It hasn't escaped my attention that this could be the mother of interminable blog posts. (Because it's sex.) But who wouldn't appreciate endless drivel about sex? (Said very nonchalantly.)

And this is my question: Why is it such a gamble as to when and where you should and can talk about sex with the very person you're engaging in it with? Haven't your closest friends staked out their irrevocable right the the most proximal part of your heart purely by following up the, "Hey! Long time no see, how have you been?" with the "so are you getting any?"

In an effort to disrobe the enigma and concurrently lubricate the flow, let's remove all the social constructs that revolve around sex. Take away marriage, inheritances, children, exes, trust funds, estate disputes, fetishes, living arrangements, college friends, basic civil rights, and health care concerns... Take it away. Let's focus exclusively on the human psyche. *phew. Way less complicated now, right? heh.

Diving in anyway, WHY is it awkward to talk about sex? WHY is it awkward to sit across from someone and say, "Hey, you know that thing you do with your toes while you're balancing hot wax on your chest and flogging me with a powerpoint printout that's chained to my nipple clamps? Minimal value add. Not so enjoyable."

Why. Why is that so hard?

I know you think I'm just going to ask a question and let it permeate the air while you click helplessly around the screen to find the back arrow as the significance of this conundrum in your own life pressure treats your brain like a veranda off the pearly coast of sex-beach-island. But no. Here's what I think: (shock)

I think the awkwardness around talking about sex has to do with the fact that it feels good and we want it. Emotionally, physically, retroactively, it feels good and we want it. And we're so fucking puritan around here that we don't think we're supposed to engage in activities that feel good. And what if they don't want it as much as we want it?! And then there's the sex contortion that screams "this feels good and I have NO idea what I look like right now but I hope you're so busily engaged elsewhere that you can't see this face I'm making!"

Ok, counter point, what if it's purely aesthetic? What if it's awkward because it's the naked show; a performance on a springy stage in constant un-dress rehearsal that you're hesitant to open up to the critics? I mean, sometimes it's actually just incredibly awkward as you fumble around with pillows and blankets and the occasional kitchen chair... that can definitely be a strike against household mirrors.

However, in the end, it seems like talking about sex is awkward because it's the only way to get through the doorway of the facade. What if it's awkward because we're not just fronting to fuck but because we've invested in the person behind the engorged body part? What if we're trying to get as close as possible to their bellybutton because talking about proximity and being physically close feels very different? What if it's for survival and the closer we get to the sternum, the more the circuitry of our hearts can act in tandem, alleviating the stress of beating individually, resting by sharing the workload, prolonging the lifespan of the cardiac tissue itself? What if *gasp* we're actually really interested in the person we're on top of/beneath/beside/wrapped around a kitchen chair with?! What if we LOVE them?!! OMG. What if TALKING about it makes it REAL?!?!?

Or...

Maybe as you sift through the remains of a broken Ikea kitchen chair, it's just kinda awkward to talk about?