“Sex -- Does it warp your mind or what?”

I don’t know about you but I’m pretty damn keen on sex. Doing it (on those rare occasions I can find someone to do it with), watching it (DVD/video/Internet—no hanging over the fence Mr Pervy stuff for me) and talking about it (nothing warm and fuzzy here, just the wet bits). Women readers will put this down to the fact I am male. They will propose that men are led around by their dicks. If that’s true, what’s the problem? I’d rather be led around by my penis, which I find to have a reasonably good grasp on reality (despite that fact it only has one eye), than by some bizarre quasi-religion that believes we are all descended from a race of space creatures. I am not pointing out any particular cult that may or may not have famous persons amongst its converts. And don’t get me started on the time these bozos ruined my holiday in Hawaii by insisting I undertake two hours of personality testing with the sole aim of selling me a book and a lifetime of servility. But I ramble on…

Now, I don’t think too many of you are going to disagree with the idea that reproducing the species is a basic human need. (Okay, some of you might, particularly those who think Evolution is a Communist plot and/or believe in the Immaculate Conception.) But all we need to do to satisfy that urge is partake of a quick knee-trembler(1) against the kitchen door. Wham, bam, pregnancy Ma’am. Or something. We don’t really have to get involved in the whole sex crapola thing that surrounds us night and day.

Let me tell you a story. I knew this guy (it wasn’t me, honest) who spent a few weeks at a beachside town one summer (well, it was Ulverstone actually) in his spotty youth. Somehow this dickweed ended up dating three girls at the same time. The first he had had a fling with a year earlier. She was still keen, he was still keen, and they locked lips and reminisced. Then there was this Italian from far off and exotic Launceston. Did our hero take a moral stand and ignore her passionate voluptuousness. Bullshit. He kept quiet about the other one and let his dick persuade him of future possibilities. Not that unusual so far. But a day or two later along the road strolled a local goddess. Tanned, lithe (I don’t know what that means exactly, but she was it) and blonde of hair she was so good looking I can… he can still see her butt in those tiny little shorts. Before you could say ‘lucky bastard’ (male reation) or ‘total bastard’ (female reaction) they were trying to fit into a single seat at the local cinema.

Hold on, where was I? Oh yeah, the moral of the story. This guy thought he had it made. Three of them! Gritty sand in your knickers sex was a certainty! He was so goddamned wrapped up in his fantasy world he forgot that rule that says you shouldn’t count your chickens in case they go all pear-shaped. Witness. Girl 1: The parental units reminded her of the shitload of trouble that our hero got her into last year. Finito. Girl 2: Fancied his brother. Shit! Who would have thought it! Girl 3: Disappeared. No explanation, no surname, no address, no trace to this day.

You knew where this was going all along, didn’t you? Sex just warps your mind. Clearly. If this guy had something other than sex on his mind things would have been different. Boring, but different. All right, all right, my story only proves that sex warps men’s minds. Women’s minds are on a higher plane, free from lust, free from… Fuck the Hell off! I have known at least one smutty woman and I know there must be more out there. Of course, men are wishing that every woman on Earth were smutty, or at least the one they are presently bonking. But don’t blame them folks. Don’t persecute them, for I have to confess that what women have been saying for centuries is true; the one-eyed trouser snake is leading men around, making their decisions, buying their cars, etc. And he is a relentless master. I should know. Mine makes me… Nevermind. You don’t want to know.


(1) “Woman leans against kitchen door, legs apart, and usually unclothed from the waist down. Man bends knees according to their relative heights, and enters. Copulation continues until climax or knee injury.” (Source: Randall T Bone, Sexual Practices of the North West Coast of Tasmania, unpublished PhD Thesis, 1989.)