There’s no quicker way to make a woman not want to have sex with you than for her to think that you’re trying to have sex with her. This is such a crazily universal maxim that it not only applies to complete strangers, it also applies to people who have been in committed, monogamous relationships for years. In fact, even in those cases where it seems like this doesn’t hold true (you are a famous star and a woman comes right up to you and asks to suck your dick, you’re newly dating/married and you just reach under the table at brunch and grab her vagina and she responds positively) it’s all just a holdover from that moment when she first decided she wanted to bang you but decided in her mind that you weren’t gonna be interested. That’s a powerful moment and it can last a long time, but mark my words, it will wear off. Whether you’re dealing with a young Katie Holmes who first looked at your posters and thought “wow, he’s so gorgeous! Too bad he’s famous and gay and I’m just a nine year old girl” or you’re a guy at a bar who just seemed fascinating one particular night, that sheen of seeming like you weren’t gonna bone whoever it is that you currently bone will wear off. And where will you be after it’s all said and done? Playing the weirdest game in the world where you use all your will to try and not do the one thing that you want to do in hopes that by not doing it, you’ll be allowed to do it. It’s like the way Douglas Adams describes how to fly in his amazing Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series. “The secret to flying is to fall at the ground and miss.” To do this, you must, at the very moment you’re falling, completely and without guile, not be aware that you’re falling. This is a lot like getting laid, and it’s amazingly complicated. If god had any kind of heart he’d just give us longer necks and let us be done with the whole thing.
The thing is, men, almost without fail, have zero ability to just leave a woman alone. This probably accounts for about 90% of why this entire crazy catch 22 of a rule is in place. If you come up to your girlfriend/wife/beautiful stranger and kind of casually hint that you’d maybe like a blowjob, she knows what you’re hinting at. This is always true. She rebuffs you and you feel rejected and in an amazing feat of misguided super-confidence-in-the-face-of-rejection the male brain works out this thought process that goes something like this:
“Man, I REALLY would like a blowjob and it seems like it would be a great time for everyone. Why can’t she see that? Oh, I get it…She didn’t get my subtle advance. She probably DOES want to give me a blowjob but doesn’t realize that I’m interested. Fuck. I don’t want to miss out on a blowjob just because of my subtlety. I’d better make it a little more obvious.”
Of course, this leads down a slope of increasingly mongoloidian advances that ultimately culminate in the boner being grinded into the thigh/buttocks or the wolf-whistle out the window of the moving car (that’s in the case where you’re dealing with “women at large” instead of just one particular woman) and while these types of moves probably HAVE worked at some point in history, they’re not gonna work for you. They’re just not. Again, maybe if your relationship is still in a honeymoon type phase where you’ve already sealed the deal and haven’t yet become the non-dynamic dullard that you’ll ultimately become in her eyes, you can pull this type of shit off, but for everyone else, casual dudes in bars, cohabitators, even long term friends with benefits (what a dumb phrase) nah…not gonna happen. But it makes a lot of sense. The desperation builds, and though you know “Man, I gotta stop constantly pressuring her to bone” the worry grows that if you DON’T pressure her then she’s gonna think you don’t care and you’re cool with not boning, which is unacceptable, so you put on the pressure more, which makes her withdraw more, which makes the advances more blatant and shitty and on and on like this until you’re sitting there one day and you say “Hey, wanna go screw? It’s been like a month” and she says “you gotta stop that shit” and then you feel like a dick, but you’ve made her feel like a dick too, because it didn’t need to come to that. But it always does, and here’s why:
Men and women have some fundamental differences. One of the biggest ones is, obviously, our genitalia. Consider this: for a man to have an orgasm, he doesn’t need to be thinking about it at all. He can literally be asleep. He can just be sitting there and blow a load in his pants at the SIGHT of the right set of cans without any physical stimulation whatsoever. In short, it’s completely mindless. It requires no effort and it’s SO out of our control that it’s a source of pride to have control over your orgasms (Ron Jeremy, Sting) and a source of shame to be at the mercy of them (almost every male on earth at some time or other). Compare that to women, who need to concentrate, need specific stimulation, which varies not only from woman to woman, but from day to day. It’s hard. It can be a frustrating chore. And while everyone can probably think of a time that a woman has tried to come and failed, it’s no secret that some women never EVER have orgasms at all. Of course the end can be totally worth the effort, that is IF you can come to a happy resolution, though there’s no promise of that. It’s like having your kitchen remodeled. It’s a lot of work, a gigantic pain in the balls, it requires patience, concentration and dealing with clumsy dudes that seem to be intent on fucking things up and getting in the way as much as they’re trying to help and at the end, there’s absolutely no guarantee that you’re gonna be satisfied with the results.
And this brings me to my point: Women tend to LOVE to remodel their kitchens, but they don’t want to do it every day. For men, getting off is like taking a dump. The longer you put it off, the more it’s gonna occupy all your thoughts until eventually it just happens in your pants. I was taught by my dad at a young age that I should ALWAYS go to the bathroom every chance I get because you never know when you’re gonna get another chance. I hope this analogy is perfectly clear.
This is why men will absolutely jump at the chance to do it any time it comes up, and to a greater extent why they’re constantly hounding all women, and why it’s such a completely unappealing thing to do. This explains why men are pigs, but also while they’ll bone when you’re/they’re sick, if you wake them when they’re sleeping, when they’re at work and busy, while they’re dying/at a funeral/getting cross examined for a serious crime. I mean, that’s a MAIN plotline of everything from sitcoms and porn to the funny pages: the busy husband who despises the idea of banging his horny wife. You know why that’s such a popular trope? Because it DOESN’T HAPPEN (porn addicts, closeted gays, medicated manic depressives and people harboring huge amounts of guilt notwithstanding). It’s a fantasy. People watched Al on Married With Children turn down the vastly out of his league Peg every week not because they could relate to it, but because the WISH they could relate to it. Al’s a slob, more of a slob than our viewer at home, but he’s got a vastly more beautiful wife, one who constantly wants to fuck him and he’s turning her down. That’s strangely satisfying for a guy with an average wife who constantly has to pretend he DOESN’T want to fuck his wife in order to sneak across the border, because he gets rebuffed every time he makes one of his increasingly less confident and clumsy advances.
It’s a real dance, this getting laid business. Fortunately for me, I’m amazing at the dance. I should be on the goddamned Dancing with the Stars, alongside fellow total studs and lady-slayers Rob Kardashian and Chaz Bono. The point here is not that women hate boning, it’s that men are slobs. And yes, I’m keenly aware that this is broad stroke “Late Friday Nite Comedy Jam” type generalization. It’s also remarkably true, so throw your stones. For those of you out there saying “this is complete bullshit. This is not how it is at all,” let me close with a warning. For maximum effect, imagine it said in a hollow, Vincent Price-y echoing voice with chains rattling and screams in the background.
It will happen to yooooooooooooooou.
It will happen to yoooooooooou.