�Who�s your Spaghettio?�
Another hotspot article
Apr. 1, 2001 Sometimes in a moment of carnal bliss when my body is about to lose itself over the cliffs, I look deep into my husband�s eyes. He asks me: �Who�s your Spaghettio?� After two years of marriage, utterances like this seem normal. I once told Bart I thought the phrase �Who�s your daddy?� sounded sleazy. He made it his mission to come up with alternatives. Some memorable ones include �Who�s your Pizza Papa?� and �Who�s your Snausages?� If anything will save Bart and me from marital staleness, it will be our inherent silliness. We have adult playtime, if you could categorize any of our behaviors as adult.
I have had more than my fair share of �serious� sex, ranging from prolonged drunken hook-ups to long-term relationships. Sex was never silly. It was usually quite dramatic. We were having sex and we were going to do it in every way we thought grown-ups were supposed to.
Example: One of my first boyfriends had a penchant for soft bondage. Which is fine, in its place. After about the 10th time I heard, �You�ve been such a bad girl, so I�m going to have to punish you,� the shock wore off. Besides, the preparation was labor-intensive and the lingerie was itchy.
Another paramour from my past loved acrobatic sex in public. I�m pretty fit and far from shy, but the reality was sand in my panties (and close regions), friction burns on my back from the hood of my car, and trips to the chiropractor. There are some things you just don�t want to explain to a doctor!
So, when I started dating Bart, I was unprepared for the level of zaniness we would eventually achieve.
Our first few trysts were very serious. The more we got to know one another, the more we realized that wasn�t what we needed. We�d both been in enough relationships to be tired of the sex we�d been getting. We carved out our own pattern. Our sexual behavior lost the imperative to constantly behave like a porn star.
I say �constantly,� because saucy behavior certainly makes our sex life fun. We�ve done it in the passenger seat of my VW (no small feat, given the size of the seat), and I adore sporting sexy stockings. Yet, our sex life isn�t built on extra frou-frou. It�s pretty much built around our wackiness.
Take for example, the newest addition to our repertoire, �The Boob Buzz.� The proper technique to master this advanced foreplay maneuver is to sneak up on your mate (for example, when he or she is drying up after a shower). Then expose their greater chest region, lock your lips over a nipple and make a raspberry sound. Escape is the key component, as your mate is likely to be quite startled. Cackling �Beware the shame of the Boob Buzz,� is optional, though my husband would argue that it is an integral part of the process.
Overall, language is very important. If Bart turned to me on the couch tonight and said, �Why don�t you go get your vibrator, so I can shove it inside you,� I would feel a bit put off. I�ve had guys suggest this before and, shockingly enough, it was never a turn-on. On the other hand, when he asks me to, �Go find Mr. Bumpy so we can go lose him again,� that is a different invitation entirely. The absurdity lightens the mood. We are just going to play. I lose some inhibition and am ready to try new things.
Another one of our marital oddities is Bart�s �Butt Dance.� This one requires no language at all.
Sometimes when I come home decrying the injustices the world has committed against me, Bart walks over silently, turns his back and drops his pants. He then begins to gyrate his naked bum back and forth. The element of surprise here is paramount. Music also helps. Tom Jones is a good start. After about 30 seconds, Bart�s pants go back up and he walks away as though nothing has happened. I am usually quite stunned, but feeling better as well.
I don�t think Bart and I are alone in this type of behavior. I recently related our escapades to a close girlfriend. It seems she and her husband have their playtime too. Each morning before work they hide a little, sentimentally significant plastic statuette somewhere in their condo. Until it�s found, they are not allowed to leave the house.
Maybe marital oddities aren�t really so odd after all. Rituals help make every relationship unique and special. They bring a couple closer together and help create a world in which only the people involved are a part. From a butt dance, to ridiculous nicknames, to running after each other around the apartment naked smearing each other with grape jelly, every successful relationship has its own playful side that keeps it interesting and light-hearted. People planning to be together for a long time, or even a few fun minutes, owe it to each other to explore that side. If you can play well together when things are sweet and cute, you solidify your interactions for the times when you need to work well together. The absurd creates a foil for the serious.
I don�t regret the un-silly sex of my early erotic encounters, but I like the freedom of being able to define my own sexuality. People joke about married sex being boring. But for me, it�s really the ride of my life! There�s innocence to it, and a variety I have never had.
While I will admit that I am the straight one in this comedic team, I have to remember it wouldn�t be funny without me. As long as Bart continues to dish it out, I am right here to take it.
But maybe tonight, in the heat of passion, I will cry out that age-old question: �Who�s my Red Ryder?
Apr. 1, 2001 Sometimes in a moment of carnal bliss when my body is about to lose itself over the cliffs, I look deep into my husband�s eyes. He asks me: �Who�s your Spaghettio?� After two years of marriage, utterances like this seem normal. I once told Bart I thought the phrase �Who�s your daddy?� sounded sleazy. He made it his mission to come up with alternatives. Some memorable ones include �Who�s your Pizza Papa?� and �Who�s your Snausages?� If anything will save Bart and me from marital staleness, it will be our inherent silliness. We have adult playtime, if you could categorize any of our behaviors as adult.
I have had more than my fair share of �serious� sex, ranging from prolonged drunken hook-ups to long-term relationships. Sex was never silly. It was usually quite dramatic. We were having sex and we were going to do it in every way we thought grown-ups were supposed to.
Example: One of my first boyfriends had a penchant for soft bondage. Which is fine, in its place. After about the 10th time I heard, �You�ve been such a bad girl, so I�m going to have to punish you,� the shock wore off. Besides, the preparation was labor-intensive and the lingerie was itchy.
Another paramour from my past loved acrobatic sex in public. I�m pretty fit and far from shy, but the reality was sand in my panties (and close regions), friction burns on my back from the hood of my car, and trips to the chiropractor. There are some things you just don�t want to explain to a doctor!
So, when I started dating Bart, I was unprepared for the level of zaniness we would eventually achieve.
Our first few trysts were very serious. The more we got to know one another, the more we realized that wasn�t what we needed. We�d both been in enough relationships to be tired of the sex we�d been getting. We carved out our own pattern. Our sexual behavior lost the imperative to constantly behave like a porn star.
I say �constantly,� because saucy behavior certainly makes our sex life fun. We�ve done it in the passenger seat of my VW (no small feat, given the size of the seat), and I adore sporting sexy stockings. Yet, our sex life isn�t built on extra frou-frou. It�s pretty much built around our wackiness.
Take for example, the newest addition to our repertoire, �The Boob Buzz.� The proper technique to master this advanced foreplay maneuver is to sneak up on your mate (for example, when he or she is drying up after a shower). Then expose their greater chest region, lock your lips over a nipple and make a raspberry sound. Escape is the key component, as your mate is likely to be quite startled. Cackling �Beware the shame of the Boob Buzz,� is optional, though my husband would argue that it is an integral part of the process.
Overall, language is very important. If Bart turned to me on the couch tonight and said, �Why don�t you go get your vibrator, so I can shove it inside you,� I would feel a bit put off. I�ve had guys suggest this before and, shockingly enough, it was never a turn-on. On the other hand, when he asks me to, �Go find Mr. Bumpy so we can go lose him again,� that is a different invitation entirely. The absurdity lightens the mood. We are just going to play. I lose some inhibition and am ready to try new things.
Another one of our marital oddities is Bart�s �Butt Dance.� This one requires no language at all.
Sometimes when I come home decrying the injustices the world has committed against me, Bart walks over silently, turns his back and drops his pants. He then begins to gyrate his naked bum back and forth. The element of surprise here is paramount. Music also helps. Tom Jones is a good start. After about 30 seconds, Bart�s pants go back up and he walks away as though nothing has happened. I am usually quite stunned, but feeling better as well.
I don�t think Bart and I are alone in this type of behavior. I recently related our escapades to a close girlfriend. It seems she and her husband have their playtime too. Each morning before work they hide a little, sentimentally significant plastic statuette somewhere in their condo. Until it�s found, they are not allowed to leave the house.
Maybe marital oddities aren�t really so odd after all. Rituals help make every relationship unique and special. They bring a couple closer together and help create a world in which only the people involved are a part. From a butt dance, to ridiculous nicknames, to running after each other around the apartment naked smearing each other with grape jelly, every successful relationship has its own playful side that keeps it interesting and light-hearted. People planning to be together for a long time, or even a few fun minutes, owe it to each other to explore that side. If you can play well together when things are sweet and cute, you solidify your interactions for the times when you need to work well together. The absurd creates a foil for the serious.
I don�t regret the un-silly sex of my early erotic encounters, but I like the freedom of being able to define my own sexuality. People joke about married sex being boring. But for me, it�s really the ride of my life! There�s innocence to it, and a variety I have never had.
While I will admit that I am the straight one in this comedic team, I have to remember it wouldn�t be funny without me. As long as Bart continues to dish it out, I am right here to take it.
But maybe tonight, in the heat of passion, I will cry out that age-old question: �Who�s my Red Ryder?
posted by eyes at 5:06 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home