Latest Posts

Tuesday 21 June 2011

THAT WAS, AHEM...GREAT


Okay, let’s talk about the subject no one has the heart, or nerve for that matter, to talk about and yet everyone has experienced it once, if not many more times in their life. Yes, I’m talking about bad sex (sorry Mom, you may want to skip this blog; your daughter is indeed talking about sex). You see, where most are embarrassed to open the bad sex closet and let the skeletons come tumbling out, prematurely in some cases, I find the whole subject of bad sex terribly amusing. But then again most taboo subjects are fodder for those that love dissecting human nature and writing about it.

Here’s the thing, it’s a bit like being right and wrong. I’m sure everyone out there thinks that they are amazing in bed, just as most individuals assume they are right (or almost always right). But the odds are that some people out there could use a little improvement in the old horizontal department (or vertical; hanging from a lamp; spinning on your head – really whatever you’re into). The problem is, it’s not like they teach seminars on this stuff…wait a minute, scratch that, I think they do, at least in theory. The real problem lies in the fact that theory only takes you so far. If you simply were not born with good rhythm, a deft hand, or ahem, control, then you have some work ahead of you.

And of course there is nothing worse than the night after an experience that failed to light up one's pinball machine, so to speak. When I was younger – as that’s usually when most of these incidents take place, cause of course now partner is a GOD (that's right honey, you da man) – one would have a debriefing with their girlfriends that would of course dissect the entire awful experience with a fine toothcomb in which we would scream, shudder and groan in horror – and not in a good way. [Yes, women do talk about everything].

You see, when it comes to bad sex and men the ones that are sub par in the bedroom department can be lumped into various categories: the jackhammer, the preemie, the fumbler, the over spastic, the 'I don’t have a freaking clue,' or the man that simply watched wayyy too much porn. I can’t speak for how women fail to impress (cause of course I’m a freaking rock star – please what else do you expect me to say), so I’ll let someone else take care of that.

The most amazing part about all this is that there is really no excuse anymore – I think those that fail to impress are simply too tired or lazy to hone their skills. The internet is rife with ‘how to’ just about everything; not to mention every man walking on two feet should know the erogenous zones – they’re not that many, come on don’t be pathetic; and the world is full of women who are perfectly willing to explain a few things. Just ask us, don’t worry, we’ll be blunt. For instance…NO, it’s NOT an elevator button, stop pushing it like the lift is broken.

You see that, that wasn’t so hard now was it.

Monday 20 June 2011

MOTHER FRIENDS


Here is the thing about the first year of motherhood, in the very beginning you go in search for other women in your newfound situation like a dog looking for a tree stump. Sorry, in the first few months, it is that crude and indiscriminate. ‘Anyone will do, hell, there's a post, you're almost like a tree stump! Screw it, how about a fence.’ In short, you are starved for individuals in your exact predicament (for lack of a better word) and you are simply not picky - and moreover, you're sick of trying to explain to your partner/husband why you're so tired. If the Mother has a living, breathing child in her possession, you figure she can commiserate with you in some fashion and confirm that you are not alone on baby island. 

But thankfully as time goes by, the discernment factor in finding likeminded friends does start to take hold as you quickly realize that after all the baby talk subsides, you can only talk about the weather for so long. “Lovely day..horrible day. Lovely day- oh wait, I said that already.” So you go in search of Mothers that seem relatively normal and are hopefully ‘your’ people so to speak. In short, you find yourself asking, "could I be friends with you if you did not have a child attached to your breast?" If the answer is in the ballpark of yes, you’re on the right track.

Often a friendship can begin based on their childrearing techniques as you quickly realize this is a huge divisive factor amongst women. Whether they let their kids cry it out, sleep in the parental bed, wean early, late, wear pretentious clothes, the scope is enormous. Trust me, I sent a mother into a white-knuckle panic the other day when I told her that I sleep trained my child. I swear I saw her dial social services. Her disdain was more palpable than the King’s need to defy me – and trust me, at 11 months, that’s all he wants to do these days. So, after my little revelation, I realized that our friendship would only go so far, I was one of ‘those’ mothers, and you could see her gently back away from me and move towards the more 'mother earth' mothers standing in the corner of the room.

Another deciding factor of finding a new mother friend is if the kids like one another. There are some babies that the King could care less about and he literally steam rolls over them as if they’re road kill; and then there are others that inspire a smile, a grab, a pinch, a hair pull. These are all apparently good signs that he is at least interested in their existence. The King is also an excellent barometer on the mothers themselves. If they inspire shameful flirting from him – he’s a master of the seductive smile even at his young age - then I figure they have passed his test and are pretty good people.



Copyright © 2014 Anthea Anka - Delighted And Disturbed