Tag Archives: sex

Anti-social security, or “Ten things to know about getting old”

Dear Sir,*

We’ve received your application for Social Security. We welcome you to the ranks of the senior beneficiary retirement subgroup, or as some of our younger staff call it, “Geezer Gulch.”

Before we can start payments, we need you to answer just a few questions to be sure you’re eligible. After all, we wouldn’t want to eviscerate the millennials’ future accept more money than we’re entitled to, would we?

  1. How long have you had that white hair exploding out of your ears and nose?
  2. Are you binge-watching “The Golden Girls” on TV Land and thinking Blanche was actually pretty hot?
  3. Do you understand these song lyrics? “When Denny met Cass he gave her love bumps; Called John and Zal and that was the Mugwumps.”** If so, please explain them and define “Mugwumps” (Note: Calling us and singing over the phone are grounds for immediate, permanent loss of all benefits).
  4. Is your current bedtime earlier than your bedtime as a kid? Can you even remember that far back?
  5. Can you still put away the Rolling Rock, Canadian Club, Stoly, Moet, and Purple Jesus like you used to?
  6. If so, is your drinking just one more sad attempt to escape the emptiness and anguish of your wasted, humdrum life?
  7. Could you ever have been a contender? Or were you always a bum?
  8. Do you remember “dial-up,” “VCRs,” “cassette tapes,” “black-and-white TVs,” “leaded gas,” “the milkman,” “bi-partisanship,” “common courtesy,” and “common sense”?
  9. Is that really you in that rock festival video on YouTube, with hair down to your navel, a pink and green tie-dye shirt, and what seem to be no pants, jumping up and down on a car hood while screaming “WHIPPING POST”?
  10. Please estimate your annual Viagra intake. This won’t affect your benefits but it’ll sure make us feel better about our own TQ (tumescence quotient).

*We dug this form of address out of the archives because we know it’s what people your age are used to! See how dedicated we are?
**This is from “Creek Alley” by the Mamas and the Papas, who’d probably be the Great-Grandmamas and Grandpapas by now.

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I usually avoid cliches like the plague, but brother, this one is right dead center on target: old age ain’t for cream puffs. It’s hard enough just getting up some mornings, then you open the (electronic) paper and are greeted with the bulletin that “The sexbots are coming.”

Believe it or not, I had a sexbot once. Unfortunately, whenever I tried to get friendly, she just kept saying, “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” (ba-dum-BUM!) Actually, sexy bots have been around for a long time. Does anyone else remember Bob Cummings and the very va-va-voom Julie Newmar, a.k.a. Rhoda the robot, in a ‘60s sitcom called “My Living Doll”?

Of course, things have evolved since then. The Washington Post item linked above mentions an outfit called OhMiBod, maker of “The Art of Science and Love,” a sex toy with an app that allows the user’s partner to control it — from the same room, sure, but also from far away. One of the company’s founders says, “Think about that Marine overseas, wanting to somehow intimately connect with his partner or his wife, and that’s super, super important.”

Time out. First of all, any troop on an overseas base might not have the kind of privacy needed for these tete-a-tetes. Can you imagine playing long-distance bouncy in a barracks room full of other guys (or gals)? And what if the gadget goes haywire – maybe gets stuck in high gear?

Tech support person: “Can I help you?”

Caller: “Ohhh yes! Yeeessss!! YES! YES! YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!

Maybe you don’t want to go that far. Let’s say your love life used to feel like a Lamborghini, but these days it’s more like a 1993 Volvo, and you want to steam up the windows a bit. Well, as long as you’re of legal age, you can use the gift of technology to fire up your beloved with a sexy text message! Best of all, you don’t even have to think it up yourself! There are plenty of cyber-Cyrano websites with the perfect words to make your special hottie practically radioactive! Here are some examples, which I promise I’m not making up:

Were you carrying a mirror in your pocket? Because I could see myself in your pants!

Wanna play hide the sausage? 

How about we pretend we’re auditioning for a porn flick?

Just went to the bathroom at the [bar/party/restaurant] and took off my underwear. One less thing for you to remove tonight… (This one is from Cosmo. Did I have to tell you?)

We’re probably a lot further down this road than we think. Before you know it, the bots will have their own dating service and won’t even need us anymore! Until then,

“Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah” – David Bowie, “Moonage Daydream”

Best. Blog Post.

Best. Sex. Ever!” Those words adorn the cover of a magazine that landed in our snail-mailbox the other day. But if you think you know what that magazine was, you’re probably wrong. No, not Cosmopolitan, nor Elle, Glamour, Redbook, Red Book in a Plain Brown Wrapper, House & Garden (Of Wild, Torrid Pleasures), Self, O, The BIG O, Ohhh Yesssss!, or the other usual suspects.

Give up? It was AARP. Those wacky folks who gave the world a new concept in senior dating are at it again! Of course, it’s no surprise that lots of people who are way beyond 50 – AARP’s threshold for geezers members – are “active.” The article, slightly shortened online, is in Q&A format and does give some good information, especially about medical issues.

What this story mostly shows is that, especially for my fellow men, age sure doesn’t bring wisdom about ye olde bootye calle. Here’s one of the questions: “I was put on [a name brand drug] for low testosterone. Now my energy and libido are both up, but I keep dreaming my wife of 45 years is having sex with other men. The dreams wake me up, and they’re so exciting that I can’t get back to sleep. My doctor says there’s no reason to be concerned. The problem is, I’m losing sleep. Ever heard of this before?” Nope, and I wish I still hadn’t. Try easing up on the snake oil drug.

AARP magazine coverAnother one: “I’m a 54-year-old man. I usually have sex once or twice a week but never more than that. I feel like I’m really slowing down. Is there something wrong with me, or is this just how it goes?” Dude, there are plenty of younger studs for whom once or twice a year would be a leap forward. Count your blessings. If you’re “slowing down,” it might be something bigger than your, uh, mattress, like too much stress or too little exercise.

And one more: “Can you recommend good sex videos for older couples? My spouse and I would like to learn some new techniques, but a lot of the instructional websites we’ve seen advertised look flaky.” I myself, of course, ahem, claim no knowledge of or expertise in evaluating any such videos and have the redacted credit card history to prove it. My guess is they’re trying to make everything look like porn. Hey, comparing one’s self to young, gorgeous, impossibly-endowed guys and gals is a good thing! Even a 97-year-old can leap tall, um, buildings at a single bound!

Things change and we adapt. If you’re still worried about missing out on the Best Ever!, take a cue and a little common sense from my regular spiritual adviser, the Reverend Billy C. Wirtz, who speaks for a generation in this classic tune: “What I Used To Do All Night (Now Takes Me All Night To Do).” The Rev has another good one in the same vein: “Hey You Little Bastards, Get Off My Lawn.” Someday I’ll actually be old enough to say that. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to catch up on my sleep.

 

Chore better or worse

One of the great things about being a blogger is that this wacky ol’ world gives me a constant source of new spins on old ideas. (The more cynical readers might accuse me of not having an original thought in my head, or recycling a bunch of dated bloviations that weren’t even good the first time. Got a problem with that, pilgrim?) Some time ago, I did my best to debunk a study that claimed men who did traditionally male chores around the house enjoyed their partners’ “attention” more often than those who did girly-man stuff like cooking, cleaning, and laundry.

Well, the tectonic plates have shifted, the rivers are running uphill, and the planets are swirling through space like pinballs! Laundry is hot, hot, HOT, according to this New York Times piece, “How Men Can Succeed in the Boardroom and the Bedroom.” The gist of it is that workplace equality lifts the organization, helping both women and men in the long run. No argument here, nor with the idea that sharing household labor offers the same kind of benefit for couples.

Which isn’t exactly breaking news. (BTW, I guess you can’t say “Stop the presses!” anymore. Maybe “Stop the Internet!”?) The B-52s sang about this a couple of decades ago in a ditty called “Housework,” whose lyrics say, “Don’t need a man to treat me mean / I need a man to help me clean / Someone who’s heaven sent / Someone to help pay rent / Someone to share dreams and wishes / Someone to help me do the dishes.”

But the Times also asserts that if guys want to do something nice “instead of buying flowers, they should do laundry…Choreplay is real.” Full stop. Choreplay? Even if I weren’t a congenital grammar-crab who recoils at cutesy words, I’d beg to differ (and since this is my bleepin’ blog, I don’t have to beg). Chores aren’t play. They are defining moments in the lives of men and women (and presumably everybody else). The true gauge of compatibility has nothing to do with all those stupid relationship quizzes and tests – it’s painting a room, fixing the woodwork, hanging a ceiling fan, or worst of all, putting up shelf paper. The four most terrifying words you’ll ever hear from your partner are not “We need to talk,” but “It’s still not straight!”

As anyone who’s ever been in a relationship knows, there’s a time for bleach and fabric softener, but there’s also a time for lush, red roses, good champagne, and some quiet Bill Evans on the stereo.  Now if y’all will pardon me, I’ve got to go chase the woodpeckers who are boring into the house again, get the squirrels off the feeder, make a stop at the dishwasher and maybe even (!) the laundry room.