Deconstructing in the afterglow
booty call
(noun) a phonecall, page or conversation aimed at getting into your pants. Not an invite to a movie or dinner, not just coffee, not a casual or formal get-together, just a plain old-fashioned "let's fuck".
Now I haven't answered a booty call in, uh 13-14 yrs. As a matter of course, I initiate them. Until today.
I'd forgotten the thrill of the proposition, the anticipation as you drive helter-skelter through the streets and the feverish ripping off of the clothes to do the nasty.
Today the Butterfly put out a booty call and I dropped EVERYTHING to answer it. Since I'm basking in the afterglow (with a large glass of wine) I can afford to deconstruct the act. We'll look at the 3 standard "judgements" that could be made about me over this.
Does running off into the evening willy nilly like that detract from my feminist beliefs? Is this some sort of "master"/"slave" situation? Am I a whore for going to fuck a married man because he's got some free time and a hard dick?
Only if you let the patriarchy and the slave mentality getcha.
I ran off to see the Butterfly because I knew that I was going to see little of him in the next few weeks. He's swamped at work and will be pulling double shifts. Besides, he's known to drop everything and take time out and come running when I call. It's a give and take.
Hmm. Ok, so he's white and I'm black. The only time "master"/"slave" comes into play is DURING play. I won't say the man hasn't got some prejudice in him - I defy anyone to find someone who doesn't - but it has never manifested itself in any conversation we've ever had.
Nah. I'm not a whore. I don't get paid for this. I do it because I want to, he does it because he wants to. His marriage is his business, not mine. I never infringe on his personal life, although he does stick his socks in mine from time to time.
So why did I go? Simply because I wanted to. I could have said no. He would have accepted that. Anything I do with him I do because *I* want to do it. We spend more time talking than anything else. He's my friend. With benefits. I wanted those benefits so I drove 80mph on 95 to claim them.
(noun) a phonecall, page or conversation aimed at getting into your pants. Not an invite to a movie or dinner, not just coffee, not a casual or formal get-together, just a plain old-fashioned "let's fuck".
Now I haven't answered a booty call in, uh 13-14 yrs. As a matter of course, I initiate them. Until today.
I'd forgotten the thrill of the proposition, the anticipation as you drive helter-skelter through the streets and the feverish ripping off of the clothes to do the nasty.
Today the Butterfly put out a booty call and I dropped EVERYTHING to answer it. Since I'm basking in the afterglow (with a large glass of wine) I can afford to deconstruct the act. We'll look at the 3 standard "judgements" that could be made about me over this.
Does running off into the evening willy nilly like that detract from my feminist beliefs? Is this some sort of "master"/"slave" situation? Am I a whore for going to fuck a married man because he's got some free time and a hard dick?
Only if you let the patriarchy and the slave mentality getcha.
I ran off to see the Butterfly because I knew that I was going to see little of him in the next few weeks. He's swamped at work and will be pulling double shifts. Besides, he's known to drop everything and take time out and come running when I call. It's a give and take.
Hmm. Ok, so he's white and I'm black. The only time "master"/"slave" comes into play is DURING play. I won't say the man hasn't got some prejudice in him - I defy anyone to find someone who doesn't - but it has never manifested itself in any conversation we've ever had.
Nah. I'm not a whore. I don't get paid for this. I do it because I want to, he does it because he wants to. His marriage is his business, not mine. I never infringe on his personal life, although he does stick his socks in mine from time to time.
So why did I go? Simply because I wanted to. I could have said no. He would have accepted that. Anything I do with him I do because *I* want to do it. We spend more time talking than anything else. He's my friend. With benefits. I wanted those benefits so I drove 80mph on 95 to claim them.
Labels: sex
posted by greer at
6:57 PM
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