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I’m Starting To Suck At Drunk Sex

I Can't Have Drunk Sex Anymore

The other weekend, I was having a Friday night like any other. I’d been drinking since that blissful moment I’d been released from purgatory work, and at that point I was stumbling through the front door with my equally-inebriated girlfriend about six hours later. As we drunkenly started changing to go to bed, it occurred to both of us that the possibility of sex was potentially on the table. She looked at me, and I looked at her.

I love drunk sex- always have- but I took a second and paused where normally I would’ve already been naked and on all fours. When I was in college, I never would’ve thought twice. I would’ve woken up the next morning fresh and ready to get a workout in and then start drinking again. But my body doesn’t always cooperate in the same way now. I struggle a little more than I used to when it comes to alcohol, and apparently, with the sex moves.

I’m starting to suck at drunk sex. And I think it might be because I’m becoming an adult, and nothing makes me sicker to my stomach than that thought.

I still want to have sex, I swear, but I’d honestly rather have it sober. Sounds crazy, but hear me out. The whole point of drunk sex is that your inhibitions are down, right? Well, I don’t need my inhibitions to be any lower. I don’t care if you see the stretch marks on my ass because I’m trying to get mine and I’m too busy to be concerned with how flat my tummy looks. Is irrational and blind confidence a part of being an adult?

I’m not having fumbling, rough college sex where I know I won’t have even a chance of orgasming. I know what I like and I know what works, and I want to do that while being aware and engaged the entire time, as opposed to passing out halfway through because that last gin and tonic finally hit me. I’m too old to play the game where I pick the positions that make my boobs look the best and ignore the ones that are going to get me off. Also, girls can have the equivalent of male whisky dick and not be able to get off when they’re too drunk, and I do not have time for that shit. I like the way my vagina feels when I’m sober. When I’m drunk, I can’t even tell where it is. Stroking my arm feels about the same. Hot, I know.

Also, now that I’m working full time, there are few things more precious to me than sleep. I can taste a good night’s sleep like a BLT on crispy sourdough bread, and while that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex before I curl up like a cat and pass out, it does mean when I’m drunk I’m really fucking tired. Having sex after a few drinks now feels like a Herculean task for my vagina, and there are also few things less sexy than when your partner falls asleep in the middle of sex (if you’re reading this, babe, I’m sorry. It’s not you, I swear.) When I’m full from that late night burrito I just stuffed into my face and the eight beers I have sloshing around in my stomach, just looking at my bed is enough to make me cry with happiness at the potential of sleep.

My body is also a lot less resilient than it used to be. In college, when I could still do the splits on both sides, I could fling myself pretty much any which way and in the morning still call it good. If I try that now, I end up nailing my head on the dresser, getting a cramp in my calf, and waking up in the morning feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m not nearly as coordinated as I was when my muscles would still cooperate with me trying to put a leg behind my head. On top of that, your naked body is especially vulnerable. If I fall off the bed during sex and land on my ass, it’s likely I’ll spend most of the next day icing it, so sober sex is really just smarter. Safety first, right?

Maybe sober sex isn’t the most crazy thing in the world. Maybe it sounds boring to prefer it over drunk sex, or to want to sleep when you get home from the bar. That’s fine with me. I’ll keep enjoying my non-alcoholic sex life, and you can keep your whisky dick. I’m pretty sure that sentence is the definition of “adult.”

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Rory Gilmore

Rory Gilmore on the outside. Emily Gilmore on the inside. Email me funny shit at rory_gilmore20@yahoo.com.

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