Darling P,

Desperation has finally occurred in my attempt to seek diversions in your absence.  Decided hubby might even be entitled to one night of true passion. In order to stay absolutely cutting edge, obtained some little blue pills for him.  Not that he needs them, you understand, but if the twenty-somethings are doing it for grins, why can’t we?  And then, as only a quite mixed-up feminist could, I decided I was entitled to take one too.

I think hubby was satisfied enough as he did say something about having the best evening of his life or something like that.  I’m never really sure, however, as he has orgasms in the same quiet way he claims to want to take a bullet–stoically and with dignity.  As I’m not very familiar with those forms of expression, I barely pay attention.

The real issue, of course, is  how it was for me.  I’d like to back up claims they haven’t found a “magic bullet” for women b/c, you know, we are all about our feelings and the moment, etc. etc. I think they’ve got it all wrong.  Every single woman (except those at high risk for a drop dead cardiovascular moment bc you may have one) should try one little blue pill. (more…)

Dear C,

So glad to hear you are continuing to drive the forward march for feminism in my absence. In fact, dear C, it sounds like you may have just taken the greatest leap forward in human development since homo erectus took his first step out of Africa. Who knew that thinking with one's penis could leave men with the impression that they are smarter and more competent than women, when in fact any dickhead should be able to tell that this notion is simply laughable. Then again, since when do facts ever matter in life? As every woman knows, it's only impressions that count. Hopefully, this pill will at least level the playing field on that front.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time, of course, before studies come out proving that little blue pills are far more dangerous for women than they are for men. No doubt, they will start with a study that 'proves' it is dangerous for women to take during pregnancy, for fear that labor will become orgasmic (highly dangerous, don't you know), or that  girl babies will be born with beards. Next, there will be talk of college coeds engaging in pill-popping orgies (literally) that will result in a significant drop in their grade point average – no matter if they go on to become President, like so many of our great leaders in the past. The greatest amount of research, of course, will be devoted to a report that solemnly proves a clear corrolation between pill-popping Cougars and heart disease – one that works in reverse correlation with the age of the male participant.

In anticipation of such oprobium, dear C, I propose we start our very own focus group to lobby for a report of our own: one that definitively demonstrates the relationship between the equal sharing of domestic duties, female contentment, and by logical extension, male sexual satisfaction?

By way of research, dear C, may I start by prevailing upon you for a supply of my very own little blue pills?

P.

Darling P,

It's taken me far too many years, but I've at last realized how much more persuasive I am with hubby before he has achieved the most exulted state known to man: post-orgasm complacency.  Just today, he was murmuring far too many proclamations of love and adoration– but only before fully satisfied by my affections.  Afterwards, barely attentive, he seemed interested only in knowing how long my droning would continue b/f he could, politely at least, excuse himself from my company.

I'd like to think hubby is unique but know only too well, from my previous though (as you must know) clearly limited experience, that this is not an uncommon occurrence.  I've known women to sail upon a raft of jewels while enticing their beloved with their siren song.  Once consummated, sadly, the relationship becomes a partial re-enactment of enticement and satisfaction for many years to come. Know one wife (whom I can only admire from afar) who actually creates a check-list of goals for her spouse to complete before their next act of love.  Do you suppose I could motivate hubby to sort those long-abandoned single socks in this way?

Really hope you have a solution to this thousands year old dilemma, dearest P.  One complicating factor for me, frankly, is my inability to remember that sex is, after all, only to be used as a marital tool and not, utlimately, for one's own satisfaction.  Unlike that woman I mentioned, I do seem to have frequent needs of my own which make hubby, even through the glare of his unmatched socks, quite enticing to me. 

I do feel, however, it is really a matter of self-discipline, P, and will endeavor to fall in line with all those women I so admire who can, quite easily, resist the call of the wild.  They may not be sexually (or at all otherwise) sated, but I imagine their dresser drawers are well-organized.  And really, is there any greater satisfaction than that?

C.

P,

I’ve been meaning to ask whether you’ve followed the recent controversy over whether women’s orgasms are, evolutionarily speaking, obsolete.  And I thought it was just in my bedroom.  Although I am reticent to discuss a subject that would seem to attract so much male interest, I find myself drawn to the topic like a moth to a flame.  It may not be in my self-interest, P, but I think for millions of dollars in grant money, I could prove an equally compelling corollary theory, that is, she who rocks his world controls his wallet. 

You do know I am loathe to drag out my women’s studies credentials, but I wonder, really, whether the "O" controversy only attempts to provide the male with yet another excuse to subjugate female desires in far more important areas.  It is clear, however, P, based on my own failed experiment in feminism, that conceding sex as a man’s domain may ultimately lead to total control over the purse strings.  And although I may be willing to give up pleasure in bed, I will never give up my right to shop. 

I do, suppose, dearest P, that we may simply teach our daughters what we know all too well–a satisfied man has no idea where his wallet lies.  But a sexually frustrated woman always does.  Sure, we could teach them that their own economic freedom would solve the issue entirely, but in case that doesn’t work out, they will at least know the rules of the game, won’t they? 

Faithfully,

C.

Dear C,

I’m not sure your Women’s Studies alums would approve of your interesting scientific hypothesis, but the romantic symmetry of the arrangement you describe certainly brings tears to this woman’s eyes.  Personally, I thought the female orgasm fell under the category of ‘nice if both parties are prepared to put in the work, but frankly, who has the time?’  Now I see what I must do on these less than satisfactory occasions: reach for his credit card and hit the real big O – Overstock.com.  (Wouldn’t it be nice if technology could just take over for both ends of the bargain once and for all?)

Your inspired explanation also takes care of the issue I had with the scientific assumption that there is no evolutionary need for women to be ‘in the mood’ before propagating the species, while for men it is the whole point.  Clearly, a sexually-frustrated woman is more in charge of her shopping wits, while a sexually-satisfied male can be easily relieved of his cash.  What better scenario could there be for ensuring a mutually-satisfying outcome for both parties?

QED,

P.