Post One Hundered and Forty Four: They Dig It.

Hey, read this!



Click on this. I don't know how to do links. That's how pro I am at life.

Post One Hundred and Forty Three: A Frank Discussion About It.

Sometimes, when an adult person works in seclusion, the mind can wander.

Sometimes, the adult mind wanders into an area that their parents minds shouldn't know about. Parents of mine take heed - I'm about to talk briefly but somewhat loosely (pun time) about adult sex and my general successes and failures concerning the act. Family folk; I am happy to assist you in continuing the delusion that I'm still NOT an adult, and thus a virgin destined for eventual romantic coupling with a handsome male olympic medalist.

As such, stop reading now Nanna. You'll be confused, but you should be proud. Really. Cheers.

For continuing readers, I realise that this is quite an aberrant topic for this blog. People working with dead people are conjectured to be respectful and wholly appropriate. And I am. At work and most public occasions. I do however think that in working with death, you should understand life. And life couldn't exist without sex and love and the amalgamation of those two fine ideas. Plus, switching the topic of taboo every now and again is thrilling.

Please note as a final stern warning that I don't think that cadavers are sexy. That's just gross.

So.

I've always been drastically fascinated with love and intimacy. This interest was and still remains to be personally peppered with intrigue, peculiarity and a general overriding apprehension. I was in grade two and a friend told me that when grown ups make a baby the male penis can get glued into the female vagina. Glued. From then on I've been amazed with what people do to each other when their bodies and their hearts mess around. I still wonder about the glue thing. You never know. Sperm IS weird.

I think that I'm pretty crap at 'it'. I'm just no good at flinging my body around with people that I can't relax with. Being a social retard, getting comfortable around attractive people in any occasion, clothed OR unclothed, is endlessly a struggle. And mustering up the energy to be intimate with people that I don't deem as attractive seems pretty stupid also.

And how does one stop themselves from falling in love with their bed partner post-coitus? I'm 27 and I'm yet to figure it out. Characters that have had the pleasure(?) of being intimate with me are probably duly intimate with the understanding that I get Disney ideas and altogether unrealistic delusions of romantic grandeur. It's a shame but I'll probably never be a true harlot.

If I ever have kids I'm going to be pretty honest with them about the whole sex caper. I'm going to tell them that I flunked the quiz, but obviously still managed to procreate anyway. I'd say to fall in love, any way possible, including the gay ways. I'd say to love more than one person at once, at least once. Why not? And I guess I'd tell them to ask their father about whether or not penises can get glued into vaginas.


S.