Well, perhaps that’s just my interpretation of it, and what do I know? I’m a stupid uptight drunk slut!
Seriously, what is the purpose of these studies about women and sexuality? It’s hardly news that some women (and, omigod, some MEN, even!) like to hit the sauce before hitting the sheets. And it’s always presented in this way that implies women are “bad” for needing to get a little lit before fucking, and it’s “all our fault” for not being able to relax on our own. It’s never because the guy is a crappy lay; it’s never because we’re toting around some pretty damn crushing emotional baggage about sex – emotional baggage that other people thrust upon us, mind you, but it’s all our fault for carrying it around in the first place – and it’s certainly not because guys play on our insecurities about not being thin enough or pretty enough or whatfuckingever enough. Nope, we’re just stupid uptight sluts who fuck too much and are frigid bitches because we need booze or pot to enjoy sex and we need to lower our standards yammer yammer yammer.
I don’t want to fall into the trap of blaming all men for this crap, because I do happen to know some decent fellows who, for the most part, don’t buy into it, and when they do, are pretty good at giving themselves a slap upside the head and realizing they’re being kind of piggish. And I do think women, myself included, have become very, very good at playing the male chauvinist game, and we need to stop being complicit in destroying ourselves to keep it going. So, yeah, it takes two to tango and other related truisms, but goddammit, it’s becoming more and more impossible for me to remain calm and logical in the face of the increasingly Sisyphean task of bearing the responsibility for all things dull and ugly while taking none of the credit for their opposite.
So I will end this post, calmly, with the following: If booze helps you enjoy The Sex, aces. Use it judiciously. If it doesn’t, then don’t. And gentlemen, “Let’s have sex” does not constitute foreplay. If you continue to insist that it does, then you have no right to get angry when we consume an entire gallon of vodka in order to endure your “lovemaking” or, gods forbid, refuse to fuck you in the first place. You’re welcome.
Oh, yes, and please don’t tell me to lower my standards. If I hear that phrase one more time, I will be forced to blow my brains out with a nine-millimeter. I say this calmly and logically.