It's amazing what can happen when you least expect it. In fact, it's probably because you least expect some things that they amaze you. Enough with the philosophizing.
About a month ago, a business friend, Sandra, and I were discussing some recent decisions made by the management of our company (In other words we were bitching. Bitching eloquently I might add, but bitching nonetheless). Sandra, my well-endowed (all natural according to her) friend of nearly ten years with reddish blonde hair, blue eyes and the smile of a Hollywood actress, is a product of the wild 60s and I am a product of the less wild 70s. We constantly tease each other about sexual things, but mostly had done so flirtatiously. We've never gone into much personal detail regarding sex, so it surprised me when she said that her husband wasn't "the man she married" and then cleared up any misunderstanding I might have by flatly stating he was having trouble "getting it up." She then really stunned me by saying that she had over thirty sex partners during her life - mostly during her college years and that she'd come (no pun intended) to expect a certain level of performance in the sex department. To look at her today you'd never guess she has such a wild past. Despite being extremely attractive, she is ever the image of conservative business professionalism and never dresses in a provocative fashion. She never even swears. Talk about a real life example of “having to watch the quiet ones.” If she had told me she was in a convent until she was twenty-five, I would have believed her up to this point.
Anyway, being a typical (horny) male, I asked her if she had ever had sex with more than one person at a time. She said she hadn't and really never wanted to. She said she preferred to be the sole object of her partner's attention. Then she turned the tables and asked me if I had ever had multiple sex partners simultaneously. I wasn't really ready for the question. Things were moving a bit too fast and I was far more interested in finding out about her sex life than talking about mine. Just being male again. Anyway, I hesitated and stuttered something stupid like "not really." But Sandra's certainly no fool and quickly realized that "not really" is probably the most bizarre answer anyone could give to that particular question. So, she asked the obvious next question while laughing so hard she could barely say it, "What does ‘not really’ mean?" I said I didn't want to talk about it and expressed my strong desire to further discuss her sex life. She then started teasing me about being very red-faced. (OK, so I blush easily. Big deal).
She then said If I didn't explain the "not really" comment, she wouldn't discuss her sex life with me any more. Talk about a tough negotiator. I caved in immediately. I told her the "not really" comment was because I didn't actually have "sex" with the women involved. She asked me to go on...
Here's what I told Sandra:
It all happened about twenty years ago when I first began dating a nurse (Note to the guys reading this: As an occupational group, nurses are the kinkiest women around. The stuff other women think is shocking, nurses think is tame. Plus, nurses have all studied anatomy. More on why this is important later.) named Robin. At the time I began seeing her, she was twenty-three (so was I), 5’7” tall and weighed about 120 pounds. She also had light brown hair and blue eyes. Throughout her high school and college years, she was very involved in sports and therefore looked both athletic and feminine at the same time. We were introduced by a mutual friend who knew we were both “available” and were looking for a relationship. We got along well and saw each other quite often. Robin had a great sense of humor (Her favorite joke which she told over and over and over: Q: What animal wants sex ten times a day? A: A normal human male) and was easy to spend time with. Despite my attraction to her, I never attempted anything more with her than a “good night” kiss. I was enjoying the relationship, but began to think of it as platonic rather than romantic and was about to start looking around again for something a bit more promising. About two months after we started dating, Robin and I got into our first argument. I had eaten lunch at her apartment while she was at work and left the dirty dishes in the sink. When she came home she made it quite clear that "such behavior was unacceptable." She actually used those words. I felt like I was back in grade school. I got a little pissed and blew her off saying it wasn't important. She went somewhat nuts and said if I was going to spend time at her apartment, then I needed to "obey certain rules." Since I had no real emotional investment in the relationship at this point, I started becoming very irritated, began raising my voice and told her the only time I'd ever obey her stupid rules is if “I lost a fucking bet.” I was prepared to walk out when she said "do you really want to bet?" I said "What are we betting on?" She responded that if I won, she would do what I wanted for a day and if she won, I would do what she wanted. It was clear from the context of the "discussion" that what she had in mind was house cleaning. What I had in my diseased little mind, on the other hand, was the beginning of a great sexual relationship.