It's the Sex

A man recently replied to one of my rants about men asking very frankly that if men are all stupid why do we marry them. I fired off a typical comment, the sex. Okay, maybe not that typical but what the hell. Fredo then asked for something and I got distracted for a few minutes while Rainbird sat on the sofa flipping channels (this is a rather dull time of the year for him, as he has all the associates doing work for him) and possibly contemplating how to bill the client for him watching the Golf Channel. I sat at the computer and began to ponder.

The reason we marry them is honestly for the sex, there might be other reasons, we like their personalities, or the way they look at us, or how good a provider they are, but that's just bullshit woman magazine reasons. The truth is we like sex. There I said it, women like sex! Of course we have rules about when we like sex. With each woman the rules are different so I couldn't possibly list them all here. We especially like holiday sex. Why else does every woman always try to have boyfriend over the holidays? It could be because of the gift but it's also the sex and someone to kiss on New Year's Eve.

I do get annoyed when he starts this shit like rubbing my back in the middle of night or early in the morning, while damn it all, I'm trying to sleep. My head whirls with thoughts, okay, how can keep him rubbing my back without leading him on about getting some? Okay, I'm selfish but I really don't want to roll over, so he'll spend a minute tweeking my tits before driving himself home for another half minute. Then, I'm left all wide awake, with no orgasm, while he rolls over, and begins to snore.

Sex for men is physical but for women it's more mental (no we're not always pretending your really Mel Gibson or some such shit), it's that for us, more of a close your eyes and feel each sensation. Let your mind go and just feel. If he's talented, and even if he isn't, the feeling is incredible. That's when the best orgasms happen.

Of course, nowadays, I'm a lot less picky about when we have sex. Hell, he's over 40 now and I'm lucky he can still get it up. Hell, he's lucky he can still piss in the toilet (most of the time he hits everything but--which is why I call him Rainbird). So, I'll take those 30 seconds of shear bliss, and finish the job later myself.