Gothic Sex

OK - as certain 'bloggers' have concentrated on sex recently I feel it only right that I put my Gothic view on the subject across. It's squidgy, squelchy and involves lots of yelping - *thinks* - oh, no, that was the documentary about sea otters doing 'it' that I watched on TV. Sex - oh yes, I remember *frowns* - I think I have been guilty of that. I suppose my 'Virgin of the Year' prize has just shot (too early) out of the window?!

!! Warning, the following does NOT involve corn, aching jaw muscles, boyfriends, penguins, mars bars or nutellla !!

Firstly, I would like to draw a distinct line between sex and making love. Sorry guys, there is a difference! - ladies, you know this already. Making love is not something I would ever consider discussing in public and even discussing sex is under the dress - eek, I mean under duress. I have spent my entire life not discussing what happens behind closed doors for the very reason that, what happens there is precisely that - behind closed doors. Granted I have been somewhat embarrassed if certain 'leaked' elements of my behaviour patterns have become public but I have never instigated it.

As a Goth, I discovered sex at an early age. 28 if I recall correctly. I know that seems a bit old to be starting on the slippery lust roller-coaster but she was an education and I was only 16 at the time. I rode the passion-train that came and went (reference to the experience, not the peeps) for many years before the first Gothic seed met it's egg match and created Mini-Goth. (Still no mention of any fruit or vegetables you may note).

I love one woman. All women generally. Some more than others, granted. There are some that, when I envisage them naked scare the living crap out of me but in general, the images are good. Then again, I hate men - smelly little rascals complaining about erections they can't get rid of. Not my problem dude - find the shower or the highway.

The way to a womans libido does not lie in re-heated curry, a 'Debbie does Dallas' video and a 'look at the size of this' question/statement. Nor does it lie in the money you can lavish on her (and before you start commenting on this point - yes, money chuffing helps but so does an erection which costs nothing and can last for hours). Of course ladies, feel free to challenge my statements - it is your right. Guys, do the numbers before sticking your bulbous head above the proverbial wall.

Back to sex - what is the obsession with blow-jobs? (especially as, in my experience, it involves no blowing at all)??? Yes, it is an extremely enjoyable experience but, as Monty Python said "life is fine when we're both 69" - give and thou shalt receive. If, (and this is hypocritical, I mean hypothetical) I was to meet a young lady on a date intending to have sex with her - I would be clean, polite, pleasure her first and then maybe receive the rewards of thinking of someone other than myself.

Guess I will just have to revert to the old methods - compliment a lady on her appearance, cook a lovely meal and offer to escort her home with no obligation at all (usually the point I get dragged into bed - complaining like a mute puppy - i.e. soft and cuddly with tongue hanging out and 'tail' in the air). Funny how this scenario repeats itself.

As my fave hobbit may recall, I sort of had a conversation circa the time when my nails were painted black. A guy at the bar kept harping on for 20 minutes that I must be gay because I was wearing nail polish. To me, I was more interested in watching Monsieur Baggins waiting for me to react. Eventually, I snapped and asked el saddo 'when was the last time you had sex with a woman?' to which he replied 'about 3 months ago' - I responded 'for me, about 3 hours ago!!!!' holding up my middle finger in a salute, 'Does that answer your stupid fooking question?!'.

After the barman had finished laughing coffee out of his nose and the superficial guy had faded into the background, my fave barman asked me why I had black nails anyway. 'Because I don't know how to take this shite off as I didn't put it on'. It was the day after Halloween and I had gone to a party as the Crow allowing girls to use me as a big doll and dress me up - ok, I got the benefit of being a blow-up doll later but that's not the point. The truth is scary at times.

So there you have it - the Gothic version.....

a luego,
S