I had an existentialist conversation with Spitfire the other day, theorizing about the movie,“The 40 year old Virgin.” I am taking severe liberties with what was said, as I try to parse through the conversation, including all the nonsense of secondary discussions we were having at the time.
“It takes a hell of a lot of self-control in this day and age to still be a virgin after 25,” I started, remembering my own brainwashing from my childhood. I was supposed to have been a virgin until marriage. That didn’t happen. “There’s sex sex sex everywhere. It can be subtle. It can be blatant. The male phallus is hidden as if it is some sort of special magic wand that can change the world.”
“Knowing about the birds and the bees does not necessarily mean someone knows how to do the basic maneuver with a partner.” Spitfire laughed, “My education at school was a farce. The sex education at the time was a joke.”
“I had a roommate when I was 19, who was 40, and still untried. I don’t think he knew what to do with a woman if he had one naked in his arms. He offered to pay me to teach him, I would have been his girl, and he would have kept me as a pet if I had.” I shook my head. “I didn’t take him up on the offer. About six months later, he found someone.”
“Have you ever had an untried male?” The question was innocent enough.
I had promised Spitfire I would be open with her in any question she asked me, “yes. He was 19, I was 27, and his mother hooked us up. I had to teach him everything.” It isn’t easy, teaching someone the basics. A penis in a vagina or arse is not the goal of sex. Nor is getting off. I tapped danced around my own sexual history, but spoke plainly, “if a 40 year old is a virgin, I’m a whore for having as many lovers as I’ve had.”
“How many?”
“At least a double hand full. Triple, really. Some consensual. Some not. The lizard brain makes the contact of a penis in a vagina pleasure, even if it isn’t to the human brain. Bodies betray and cause orgasms, even when there is no consent involved at all. Does that make me a whore for allowing all those different penises in me? No. What makes being penetrated, or penetrating so important? What is with a penis being the changer of someone’s status? It’s not some magic wand you can wave around and go *poof* ‘not a virgin!’ *poof* ‘not a virgin!’ All it is is a tool for pleasure and procreation. Just a simple tool.”
She let me continue to rant, taking in my words, “having had the experience of an untried male as my lover, I can accurately say that it takes time and patience. So many things can go wrong. She has to go slow, and reassure the penis bearer that she was not actually being hurt by it. She would have to console the peen if the peen lost the stamina to stay erect. She would have to be willing to reassure that it was okay if the peen lost all control almost immediately after penetration and came right away. The educator has so much to teach the novice, and it takes more than one session. Sure, stick a peen in, and the owner is no longer a virgin, but that’s barely the beginning of sex.”
“What about BDSM?”
“BDSM is not about the sex,” I began my answer, then let the words spill out. “It’s about you throwing me over your knee and spanking me till I can’t sit, cause I’ve grabbed a sharp and went too deep. It’s about you wiping away my tears when I failed and give me courage to try again. it’s about you cheering me on so that I succeed. It’s about you watching me soar and saying to everyone ‘that’s my girl!’ It’s about you growing in your own strengths and more. It’s about you gaining the courage to scruff me when I’m bouncing off everything and everyone, to get me to sit still long enough to tell you what’s going on… it’s about you getting stronger in your own psyche, not just what you do to me.”
I could hear the nod in her fingers.
“This one man I know, he was a virgin till he was in his early thirties. His wife is his second. He also had a pet for about two years, and she was his third. He was certain that he would forever be a virgin, until a friend’s wife took pity on him. She taught him the basics, but it was his wife that taught him that his religious indoctrination was wrong. He could tie up a willing partner, and have his way with her, so long as he listened for a safeword, and followed that basic rule. She cracked the shell on his nut.”
Spitfire roared with laughter and told me, “you used the words ‘cracked’ and ‘nut’ in a sentence about a male member.”
“It was the husband’s words, not mine,” I explained. “He felt freed, because he realized that tying a girl up wasn’t the psychopathic thing he was lead to believe.”
“BDSM is never about the sex,” I restated. “If it is, you’re doing it wrong. Anyone can get their dick wet, or be a fuck toy. It takes two willing people to have a relationship to actually do BDSM. Anything else is just kinky sex.”
That’s when we got interrupted by a few more important things…
My life is a work of He.art 