Bang and Regret

Somehow, without an instruction book or half-decent advice (ahem) we all have to figure out our own sexuality. That word - sexuality - frankly gives me the creeps, because it sounds manufactured by robots in a factory somewhere. I prefer sexual tastes, or sexual understanding or even personal sexual architecture.

Yeah, maybe not so much.

In any case, sex is one of the few human activities that involves our physical being, our intelligent being, our spiritual being and even our moral being, all tied up with a ribbon in one big beautiful lusty box. It's a cornucopia of stuff that can make us feel as big as the universe, as hot as the sun and as empty as space, all at one time.

So where to begin? Mostly, by not listening to anyone else. Parents through the ages, up to and including today, do a universally rotten job at explaining sex. And they concentrate on the physical, reproductive result, which even our bodies recognize as a side effect. Sex is first and foremost about pleasure, about feeling good. Start there, and we can then understand how nature tricks us into unplanned pregnancy - because she's wily, that's why.

Sex feels so good that it can overcome all kinds of logical arguments and commitments. No sex before marriage vows are admirable but completely unrealistic in my opinion. But sex on the first date with a complete stranger is likewise pretty dopey too. Somewhere in the middle is a smart compromise, but no-one ever expands on how that should work either. Try asking your mum or dad tonight how they view that conundrum.

Then there's the tricky problems we can find ourselves tangled in. Married and having an affair. Single and having an affair with someone who's married. Choosing someone who treats us poorly. Finding someone wonderful and messing it up. Thinking that there's more out there, when your own personal sexual architecture would be completely satisfied with just what you have. Thinking you're satisfied, but secretly looking for a whooooollllle lot more.

That last point is critical. Knowing what combination of lust, love, physicality, mental attraction, compatibility, respect and humour is right for you, is everything. Unfortunately, there is no Dummies Guide to Your Own Sexuality, it's all bang and regret.

Or not.


Bottoms Up, Critical Shaggers.

Echo Boomer Ka-Boom

Depressing news for those of us who think children are the future (and not just an old song title.) In the United States, more than half ie: >50% of all live births to women under thirty are to unmarried mothers. The overall rate is 41%. And among college-educated women, that rate is rising fast.



So let's extrapolate a trend a couple of years, and just get it out in the open: By 2015 half of the children born in the US will be illegitimate. Bastards, in other words.

This fact was brought home to me yesterday, over coffee with a friend. A work colleague of his, a 28 year-old single woman, is six weeks pregnant. No, not to her husband - there is none - but to her "boyfriend" of six months. And, naturally, he's not in the frame of mind to marry her. Any bets on her becoming a single mother?

Frankly, I could care less about stupid adults who haven't the moral capacity to understand the responsibility of creating a new life. What worries me is the child, and his or her future. Arguments about marriage being "just a piece of paper" don't wash. We're dealing with not only an innocent life here, but, writ large, the future of our society. Not only do unmarried parents practically guarantee the child a life of poverty, the lack of role models and proper guidance leads to higher incidence of mental disease, addiction, anti-social activity, lower education levels and on and on.

The root of this selfishness is easy to find: current under-thirties are the children of baby boomers. Their "values" of "turn on, tune in, drop out" and "do whatever feels good" have been passed on to a new generation. Moronic males unwilling to stand up and face their responsibilities, and dopey females who seem unable to make their contraception work are blind to the fact active sex lives have consequences.

Here it is: Eventually, sex = babies. I hope that's clear.


Bottoms Up, hole-pokers in condoms.

Friday Fluffer - Sex In Space

On the off-chance that you have nothing whatsoever to worry about, consider this: there's an uncertain future for humans planning to reproduce in space.

As if punting off to other planets isn't scary enough, space-kids might be even more pesky than their earthling cousins.

Space Sex Could Kill Us. Safe for work.


Bottoms Up, Weightless Doggies.

Digital Love Analogue

 Stephanie Gateshet.

We're clearly moving from centuries of an analogue world to lives defined digitally. The changes are easy to see - we no longer measure, we count;  infinite shading is now thin slicing; perhaps is either on/off.

If this isn't the revolution of all revolutions, I don't know what is.

But, like, whatever. My interest lies in whether we're changing the nature of love. Is love analogue or digital? Do we look at love like a Caravaggio or a PDF file? Is the answer as obvious as it seems?

Digital love sounds awful. A bunch of ones and zeros on a wafer of silicon won't get anyone's heart racing, let alone inspire them to write a song or pen poetry. However, those ones and zeros are canny things; they understand that they're neither warm nor sexy, so they present us with a more lovable facade. The photo above, for instance. Or blogs. Or iTunes. Somewhere along the line, the digital gods found themselves a first-rate PR firm, and followed its advice.

The problem is that all their solutions are good at describing love but hopeless at actually being it. The look that melts your heart, the feeling of her touch, the invisible communication of minds in synch - I guess a robot will eventually simulate these things, but it will still be reproduction of love, not the core.

So I think we're safe for now. Love will be analogue for a long time, probably until your DNA has sex with an iPad, at which point we're all screwed. Or apped. But at that point it won't matter: we'll all be too busy shopping at Amazon for a lover to notice.




Bottoms Up, Microprocessors.

Wombatgram #19 - Royal Life-Cycle

The Royal Life-Cycle, which is similar to the way the rest of us go about it.

Click on Wombatgram to see the gruesome details.





Bottoms Up, Monarchists.

Dead Rubber

It would end much of the fluff filling celebrity newspapers and gossip websites, but if men took charge of their potency, their lives would be more in their control.

The only guaranteed male contraceptive is the vasectomy. In case you forgot your basic male reproductive anatomy, this procedure cuts and seals the vas deferentia, the tubes that carry sperm from the testicles into the seminal stream.

Sidebar: There appears to be, in my discussions with women about this, misunderstanding of how jism is made. Semen is the overarching term for the complete ejaculate. Semen Cocktail is formed during the process of ejaculation, when sperm passes through the vas and mixes with other fluids from the prostate and elsewhere. In short, the actual reproductive material, the love-taddies or sperm, comprise only around 10% of the ejaculate. That's what is stopped by the vasectomy. The rest is a mix of fructose, enzymes, citric acid and lipids designed to protect and lubricate the sperm on the way to the eggs.

End sidebar.

Interestingly, the vagina is chemically hostile to sperm. The mix of fluids comprising male orgasmic fireworks is mostly a tank battalion designed to storm the castle of the lady's gooey defences. The only difference between the vasectomized and the unvasectomized man is the potential pregnancy. Everything else is exactly the same, including, I am reliably informed, the taste.

So. Once a man has an heir, a spare, and perhaps one or two more for luck, he'd be smart to take charge of his shit, and get the big V. I've heard that, later in life, women find a potent but infertile man irresistible.





Bottoms Up, Ejaculators!

Feeling Good, Louis.

In reverse order, these activities make me feel physically good.

6. Waking after a regenerative night's sleep.

5. Completion of a cardio and/or strength work-out.

4. A swim, or any kind of in-water activity.

3. Peak cocktail buzz at 1.2 martinis.

2. Class A Elimination ie: a great shit.

1. Orgasm, preferably with female accompaniment.


Other stuff can feel good, but tend to the more adrenaline-based end of the spectrum. Reaching the peak of a mountain or driving fast both fall into that category. YMMV, of course.

No surprise that reproduction makes us feel good. Nature's clever like that.

I had a point about this, but forgot what it was. If I think of it, I'll get back to you. What I am thinking is that I should have ranked the feeling of when one surreptitiously slides one's hand up a lady's skirt, to find that she's already sweetly slippery. That might be up there somewhere.

Nah, that's more of an anticipation thing, not in the same ballpark at all.

Bottoms up!





Pic of Milka Duno from here. [link]

Post Pussy

This is destined to become a backwater of the internet, but just between you and me, will you ladies answer this question?

After a man has spent himself licking and sucking and lapping your gooey regions, do you want him to kiss you?

Yes, I want every woman who reads this to answer. Please.

Let's be clear: his chin is dripping with your juice, and his tongue red-raw from pleasuring your kitty/taint/arse.

Should he rise up from between your loins and look approvingly for a smooch?

Bottoms up!



Photo from here, although I doubt they're smart enough to realize the audience we provide them. [link]

Edited for overuse of 'lapping' and other sundry failings.

Set-Up Date

It's not even spring here in the northern hemisphere and the sweet smell of reproduction's in the air. Okay, not reproduction but certainly introduction.

Hello Wombat!
Anthea & Tony, here.
We met you a few times at {restaurant} and {tiki bar}. As a matter of fact the last time we saw you, we had lost a bet and owed you a drink! During that encounter, we thought you might want to meet a girl friend of our's who was moving to the area.
After months of searching for a home and garnering employment, she's ready to make new friends.Would you be interested in meeting for lunch at {restaurant} as we'd like to introduce you to her.
A & T*

Right, we have here the classic set-up. Andrea and Tony are a lively couple who spent time with me on four or so occasions. I like them. They know me about as well as they can. So what kind of woman is their friend? What do they think their friend will see in me? And what do they think I will see in their friend? All unanswerable questions, resolved only by meeting.

If I follow my own advice on this, I should:

a) have no expectation,

b) be myself, which is to say, absolutely refrain from trying to impress, and

c) remember to look in the mirror.**






*Although the timing looks suspicious given yesterday's post, I assure you this email arrived last night. It's for real.

**Note. One or more of these might be contradictory and/or impossible.

Pic from here [link]

Save me I'm single!

It would all be so much easier if:

~ we didn't need sex to reproduce

~ the urge to reproduce weren't as strong

~ we weren't as fascinated by the other sex

~ we weren't as fascinated by sex

~ we didn't think about relationships so much

~ we didn't think so much

We shall never solve all the problems of meeting the right person and sustaining a relationship with them. Humans are an imperfect animal, prone to changes of direction, and our relationship architecture reflects that. The search for fairy tale endings and happy ever after is, to me, a deliberate misread of you and us. Reality will find a way to disappoint you if it's perfection you seek.

Technology is wonderful, its benefits clear. In this particular field, I have my doubts. Two cases in particular encourage delusional thinking.

Exhibit A: Online dating. Argh! I know, people find each other every day via this medium. For every successful couple (relationship longevity unknown) there are thousands of men and women whose view of possible partners is skewed by having them presented as another shopping option. It's one giant People Mall out there, the very idea of which gives me the creeps.

Exhibit B: Reproduction outside the body aka: in vitro fertilization. What an example of amazing science and bioengineering. Unfortunately, it is a powerful option with uses for both good and not so good. For couples unable to become pregnant naturally, it is the most wonderful gift. For many other applications, I am dubious. More than anything, I worry that we see IVF as a justification for delaying child-bearing even longer than we do already. This is a subtle influence, allowing folks who might otherwise settle to have families of their own a few more years of self-indulgence.

In a way, we're the (single) victims of our inventiveness.

Being Single Part 1, Being Single Part 3, Being Single Part 4.