Variety is the spice of life

Variety is the spice of life

One of the most annoying but necessary evils of sexual relations is wrapping it up.  I think a little piece of every man dies every time he cops a box of rubbers, especially if it’s a last minute purchase at a corner store or a gas station. ::Yeah, let me get $40 on 8, a box of Parliaments…short, a dutch, and ummmmm (whispers) a box of Magnums::   Then comes the awkward transition from foreplay to coitus while he anxiously puts the condom on.  (I wonder what people think about during that time…)  On the one hand, I suppose it beats the hell out of no sex at all or rubbing it out yourself, but sex with a rubber is like driving a race car on I95 doing the speed limit.  What’s the damn point?

I’d like to take a quick moment to clarify a myth.  The myth being that men are the only ones that hate rubbers.  Women hate the fact that men have to wear rubbers and would probably give their last breath and every purse in their collection for a skin to skin worry free trip(s) to their preferred Rampin’ Shop. (See Usher’s “That’s What It’s Made For) That euphoric feeling of hot, wet flesh pressed up against each other is priceless.  Well actually…it can range anywhere from $20 to $4,500, or as we call it here in New York, Elliot Spitzer dollars.

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One of the perks of commitment is usually the pleasure of bare relations, because at some point in every flourishing relationship, the gloves have to come off, and not in the C. Brown/Rihanna sense.  But when is the right time to love without a glove?  Does the designation of titles automatically qualify you for the Everynight RAW sweepstakes?  Once one party gets weary of using condoms the “Don’t You Trust Me” question is never too far behind.  Even in prolonged “FWB” situations, there is usually a relationship developed that is sometimes steeped in a trust established that is more like a mutual understanding an expectation to not leave your f*ck buddy hanging you out to dry.  But can the desire to do it raw cloud this particular decision making process?  After all, it is human instinct to pursue what they truly desire by any means necessary.  So when a guy says “Yea, I’ll be ready if we have a baby”, that really means, “These rubbers are choking the end of my shaft and I’ll jump out a window if I have to keep wearin’ them.”   Conversely, sometimes when a lady says “Yes, I’m on the pill”, that usually means, “My homegirl got the hookup on Plan B…and your eyes are too close together, I’d probably never bear your child anyway.”

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Most people base the decision on whether or not to use protection on their primal instincts instead of serious discussion on how to handle the possible implications of enjoying each other sans latex.  Birth control and the advent of Plan B have made the decision seem a bit more logical, but you always have to keep in mind the other life sentence that can be handed down from raw beats is that good old boogie monster.  In a lot of situations, the decision about gloves can be a dealbreaker for some.  It can turn FWB situations sour and be the elephant in the bedroom for people in relationships.  (If you’re married and still wearing condoms that’s just plain silly.) In an effort to preserve their relationships, peope usually don’t keep it real with each other, and have a tendency say what they think the other person wants to hear for fear they might lose whatever they currently have going.  The problem with this is that someone ends up burned or knocked up and very unhappy.

But you only live once right?

What it is my good people?  Ever had some good lovin’ come to an end because someone didn’t trust you enough to ride bareback?  Anyone going through this now?  And uh…if you have any horror stories, keep ’em to yourself…it’s Friday, no one is trying to hear that sh*t right now.

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Baby I like it raw,

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