They’re certainly not in the same category as life’s big questions, but the Lifestyle and my eagerness for sexual exploration have presented me with some new issues to ponder. They sort of drift through at random when I’m stopped at a traffic light or staring into space over a hot chai.
For starters, how did single women come to be called unicorns – a beast traditionally associated with chastity? Single women who enjoy playing with couples may seem mythical and rare so that part fits, but unicorns are also often thought of as stallions with that single horn nothing more than a too-obvious phallic symbol. Although I guess other imaginary female creatures aren’t the sort that you’d want to find in your bed. Sirens lure sailors to their deaths. A succubus enslaves with sex. Well, that might work for the BDSM crowd, but the term unicorn probably has a broader appeal.
Why is it that the fewer clothes I wear, the longer it takes to get ready for a Lifestyle night out? Even if all I’m wearing is a form-fitting dress and my favorite stiletto-heeled boots – why bother with the bra and panties when I’m not likely to be wearing them for long anyway – it takes me almost two hours to prep and dress. On an average day, I’m headed to the door in just 20 minutes.
How did we get stuck with the word squirt to describe female ejaculation? I think men must get to christen the bedroom positions and tricks, because until the term was popularized by porn, I can almost guarantee that no woman in the throes of passion had the urge to say, “Oh, honey! You’ll make me squirt.” The word isn’t exactly sexy, reminding most people of the sound made by a ketchup bottle or echoing from the bathroom the day after a partner partied too hard at the local beer and chili fest. A woman might have chosen the word gush instead. As when someone lavishes you with praise, it’s a bit much but wonderful nonetheless. Or maybe surge, as in tidal wave, even if thanks to the last Bush administration you associate the word with military action. It can mean an overwhelming force, which is exactly what female ejaculation feels like in action.
Why didn’t I start swinging 10 years ago? Sadly, I think I know the answer to this one, although that doesn’t stop my dirty little mind from wondering how much further I may have taken my sexual explorations by now under different circumstances. The truth is that back then, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible to find a place within our culture where women could experience as much sexual freedom as men. It never even occurred to me to look. Maybe that’s the big question I should have been pondering.