In The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling’s loveable bear, Baloo, doesn’t want much out of life.  He prefers a simple, uncluttered, unfettered existence.  In the Disney film version, Baloo sings a fanciful tune about “The Bare Necessities.”  This prompted me to write about what I like from a sexual union, a night of ecstasy, and the promise of wanton desires fulfilled.  (With all the hooplah about what people are supposed to do to “create” a romantic evening — what we should wear, what we should say, what techniques we should know, what doo-dads, gizmos, and whizbangs should be at the ready — I simply must offer my two cents.)

In “The Bare Necessities,” Terry Gilkyson’s lyrics go like this:

Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old mother nature’s recipes
That bring the bare necessities of life.

I want the bare necessities when it comes to sex.  No pretense.  No acting out a scene from a movie.  No bullshit.  Just being a real person with another real person enjoying a real moment together.

What does this mean?

I hate lingerie.  I don’t want rose petals on the bed.  No candles.  I don’t want a steak dinner beforehand.  I don’t drink.  I can’t stand perfume or cologne.  I despise “romantic” music.  I refuse to “talk dirty.”  I won’t play “dress-up.”  I don’t do S&M (or bondage or dominatrix/submissive crap).  I don’t like kink.

Why?

I’m fat. Why kill perfectly innocent flowers?  Can you say “fire hazard?”  Who wants to fuck on a full stomach?  Alcohol tastes gross.  Allergies.  Cheezy city!  Don’t bring your porn fantasies to me.  I do theatre for a living.  Solve your “mommy issues” on your own time.  It’s weird.

Now that that’s all clear… here’s the reason.  I don’t want  my partner focused on all the peripheral “stuff” when he or she should be focused on me.  And likewise, I don’t want to be in a panic trying to get everything ready.  Again, dealing with “set dressing,” lighting, and sound is what we theatre pros call a “tech rehearsal” or a “hang and focus” in the theatre biz. I certainly don’t want to do that when I’m supposed to be getting aroused, anticipating the events to come.

Mainly, I don’t want to feel like I’m putting on an act, pretending to be something I’m not (more theatre).  I want to walk into the room naked, body flaws and all, and that be okay because my partner sees me, the person I am, my heart, my soul, my being, instead of all the ways I don’t meet the American standard of beauty.  My mind should be filled with a million thoughts of how I can touch him — not wishing I could afford lipo.

So here’s the recipe for having sex with me:

1. Don’t be a moron.  (I’m afraid I must insist on this.)
2. Be prepared to be naked immediately.  I don’t do bullshit / tease / “foreplay” on the couch.  We’re heading to the bedroom post haste.
3. The lights will be low and minimal, but definitely enough light to see everything.  And I mean, everything.
4. Speaking of seeing everything, make sure you shave your balls — and wash your ass crack.
5. The music will be a meditation CD of my choosing.  Get over it.
6. The sex starts with talking for an hour or longer…

(Okay, I know I just lost the male audience, but “bare” with me.)… If I haven’t been with you before, how can I know what you like?  Should I assume what you like based on what my last partner liked?  Or the guy before him?  Do you really want me remembering them while I’m with you?  Didn’t think so.  So start gabbing.  Of course, we can touch, silly.  Did you think we would only talk?  If that’s the case, then let’s braid our hair and do our nails!

Why spend so much time on talking and experimental touching?  If you’re familiar with the concept of positive and negative poles of the body, then you’d know a woman’s breasts (in line with her heart chakra) are the positive pole and the true entryway to the vagina (her sex chakra).  For a man, his positive pole is the penis (no pun intended) which is his sex chakra that leads to his awakening in his chest (his heart chakra).  It seems the old adage really is true, the way to a man’s heart is through his penis, and the way to a woman’s vagina is through her heart.

Do I have favorite positions?  Of course.  The Kama Sutra, Tantra, the Tao, and Kundalini teachings are filled with ideas for sexual awakening, soul connection, and heart chakra fulfillment. That doesn’t mean they’ll work with you.  Or vice versa.

A shorter penis works well for women on top, a longer penis is great for side-behind.  A curved penis is great for She Spot stimulation like having one leg over his shoulder (Splitting the Bamboo) position.  Breast worship is a prerequisite to yoni massage or any genital yoga.  Lingam massage and oral ecstasy are two of my specialties.  Then there’s one I named the Reverse Rockingchair.  (Don’t ask what it is.  There’s only one way you’ll ever know what it entails.)

Seriously, though, communication is vital to the partnership, whether it’s for one night or a lifetime.  If all you want is the quick screw, then you’ve definitely come to the wrong place.  I expect this to go for hours, and while I suspect there will be orgasms a-plenty, I’d rather have a connection with another human being than a race to the finish. After all, I don’t need a man for orgasms — I do that amazingly well on my own, thank you very much.

Therein lies the problem.  I don’t need a man.  I want a man.  I don’t need sex.  I want sex.  There is a difference.  I don’t need a man in my life to take out the trash, mow the lawn, change the brakes, or fix the leaky sink.  I can hire tradesmen to handle repairs around the house or on the car.  As a 21st century post-feminism empowered woman, I don’t look to a man to fill “necessary” roles the way 19th century women needed men to be able to accomplish certain tasks for the upkeep of the farm or homestead.

I don’t “perform” in bed (more theatre intrusion).  I don’t want you to have “performance anxiety” either.  I want to sit together, and touch, and kiss, and experiment.  I want to caress, and nibble, and coax, and cherish you.  And I want you to want the same of me, for me, and with me.

I realize that by asking for something so simple and “deconstructed” I’m asking for quite a lot.  I’m asking you to leave your ego at the door, along with your preconceived notions about what I want or how I want it.  I’m asking you to give up your innate goal-oriented competitiveness, the ingrained score-keeper, and the death-grip on your self-worth and masculine identity.  I’m asking you to give up the enculturation of patriarchal propaganda. I’m asking you to just… be.

I know exactly what I want and how I want it.  I can tell you, and I can show you.  All you have to do is pay attention.  Ask questions.  But to do that, you have to focus on me, the real me, and not keep a running tally in your head, comparing me to the other women you’ve been with.  Be here.  Now.  Be in the moment.  Be egoless.  Nothingness.  Non-attachment.  Just feel.  Be.

I like my sex simple — bare — stripped of the illusions put forth by Cosmo sex quizzes and Victoria’s Secret catalogues and the myths perpetuated by porn and skin mags.  Sex should be a spirit connection not just mutual masturbation.  Otherwise the orgasms will only be physical.  And I’m not interested in that.  Make me fly — fly upward above the earth, across the universe, through the veil, and let’s bask in the energy of cosmic orgasm and our union with the cosmos.

That’s not asking too much…

Aroused and baring all,
trish

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