Having been married to the same man for the last forever years, I thought I knew how his and other men’s minds work.
Of course, I was wrong. I know jack shit about how a man’s mind works, especially when it comes to sex and all things related.
All of this worry I and most every other woman have about our bodies is wasted brain power. The time we spend thinking about how we look outside and in the bedroom is time we need to take back and spend working on our *ahem* techniques and tricks.
From my 14 years of intrenched marriage research, reading more than my share of smut books, and general awakenings when it comes to the difference between women and men, the following is a mental dialogue as The Sex happens for men and women:
HER: GOD I feel bloated today, but I know I need to get me some. I need to turn out the lights with maybe just the clock’s glow to set the mood. I bet if I lay here with my head propped and my hair looking flowyish, he won’t notice my paunch under my Fun Run t-shirt. SHIT. I think I smell something off down there. No, wait. That’s just normal, I think. Did I pay the cable bill? Oh, yeah, he’s ready, but he’s not touching my belly. Why isn’t he touching by belly? He hates my belly. I hate my belly. I need to move this along so he doesn’t start touching my belly.
HIM: Sex. Hard. Wet. Smell good.
Must put it in somewhere warm.
Feels good. Must touch.
Put it in.
HER: Finally, he’s nowhere near my belly, but now he’s all over my tits. They’re all droopy and kind of small. I know he says they’re perfect for him, but I know better. They should be bigger and easier to push together, kind of like Selma Hayek’s boobs. She has nice boobs. Remember when she did that cool glitter hair part for the Oscars a few years ago? What year was that? I feel like I’m getting old because I can’t remember what year Selma Hayek had that cool glitter hair part for the Oscars. Old. Now I have stretch marks and my elbows kind of feel like my grandmother’s. I miss my grandmother. Her house is kind of warm. Warm. I do feel warm now. Mmmm…warm. he makes me warm in a ll the right places. Ohhhhh that feels good…
HIM: Hard. Stay hard.
Warm. Wet. Put it in. Ready.
Sex. Here. Now.
Must feel curves. Boobies. Round.
PUT IT IN.
HER: Does this angle make me look sexy? He’s not even looking at me. He hates how I look. How can he even keep it up for me when I don’t look as good as I should. Something is jiggling, and it’s not pretty. Jiggling is so not hot. Maybe if I turn a little, I’ll look more like I should. I think I forgot to lock the door. No, it’s locked. I forgot something, though. Did I record Teen Mom? I hope so. I love Teen Mom. Thank GOD I wasn’t a teen mom. What was that noise? …oh, embarrassing.
HIM: So. Good. Feel.
She feel good.
I love her.
She so soft.
Must put hands on her hips and boobies.
HER: There’s going to be a mess to clean up after all this. Damn, this feels so good, but is it worth the clean-up? Yeah, it totally is. His eyes are open now, but he’s not really looking at me. Oh, yeah he is. That’s his “I’M THERE” face. God, he looks sexy. But why isn’t he really looking at me? It’s because he doesn’t think I’m hot, and why would he?
HER: OK, that was good, really good. But now he’ll see me naked in the bathroom. Maybe if I wait until he’s in the shower, I can go in and he won’t see my fat and jiggles.
HIM: Touch her.