It’s official:

...“surveys of sexual behavior have shown that women are far less likely to have an orgasm than men during sex and that they take longer to reach a climax when they do have an orgasm.”

Ya think? They actually had to study that? Anyone of the scientists could have just taken a poll at Thanksgiving dinner. I’m sure that Grandma, Mom, big and little sister, cousin Lucy and weird old aunt Helen could have answered that question for them.

I wouldn’t have added Grandma but this article did:

The interviewees in the study, whose ages ranged from 19 to 83, were more likely to achieve orgasm on their own than during intercourse, with just one in five saying that they never or infrequently had an orgasm during masturbation.

83?

83?

I’ve seen 83 year olds. I couldn’t imagine one of them moving quickly enough to make masturbation a good idea. Unless you have someone who loves a “slow hand”, masturbation probably is not a good idea for arthritic fingers. But...who am I to say. I tried it once when I was a teenager and it just made my arm sore so I never bothered again after that. I am far from a masturbation expert. I did learn a little watching Vex. He wasn’t very good at hiding it. But that didn’t do ME any good.

I’ve always been perplexed at my lack of desire to perform self gratifying acts. But now I know why. It’s genetic:

The ability of a woman to enjoy sex to the full has more to do with her genes than her partner, according to a study indicating that the female orgasm has a strong genetic basis.

Alrighty then, another sexual mystery solved. I have experienced more than one of those things. In the beginning, I didn’t know what exactly occurred during the sex act. To make matters worse, I didn’t know about erections so I had some weird ideas of what the act itself consisted of.

Luckily for me, my mother left her copy of “The Sensuous Woman” in MY underwear drawer. I read it often. It was the late 60’s and I was at the “curious” age. I remember my father finding it in one of his, “Let’s throw everything in a pile on the middle of the floor and put everything back where it belongs” episodes. He dumped the contents of my underwear drawer on top of the stuff from my closet and Mother’s book landed right on top of the pile. He looked at me but quickly figured that I had nothing to do with it...I must have been 10 at the time...and went straight to my mother who was in a cleaning frenzy of her own in the kitchen. I don’t remember the details, but a fight between the two of them ensued and the book ended up in the trash.

After that, I had to get all of my sex education from my father’s Playboy books.

The more I think about it, the more I am sure that this thing isn’t genetic. It’s just innate behavior, like men being attracted to the big round things. Ion’s of husbands have not tended to the home garden and therefore, they need to go out and clear up some weeds and cultivate some healthy growth. I’m actually surprised women have maintained the ability to orgasm at all.

I’ve already mentioned my mother’s sex talk. The sex talk with the grasshopper analogy...it was pretty useless in that it contained no “practical” information. I knew NOTHING for far too long. The little that I did know kept me away from boys and looking back, I guess that was the point. My naiveté made me look pretty silly more than once.

I had a girlfriend in high school who was a nut. She and I were at her boyfriends’ house once and while he was in the bathroom, she threw a bunch of his albums out the window and into the bushes. We pretended to leave but she ran and got the albums out of the bushes and tossed them in her back seat before finally driving off. There was nothing I could do but watch, I didn’t know her boyfriend well enough to say, “Hey, my girl here just pinched some of your albums.” So I just shut up and went home with Darice where we played Spit and listened to The Who.

A few days later, Darice’s boyfriend, Randy, came up to me in the hall at school and said that Darice told him that I had stolen the albums. I set him straight and since he believed me, she was mad at me. When Darice got mad at you, she would date your boyfriend. She had huge tits and it was never a tough thing for her to do...most high school boys would have had a go at her if they could. So Darice went out with my boyfriend, Dave, more than a couple of times.

Eventually, of course, she and I became friends again and one day she said, “Dave always had a hard on when I was with him. Does he have one around you?”

Now, I had no clue what a “hard on” was but if he had one for Darice, he was gonna have one for me. So I lied....”Yep. And he keeps it in his coat pocket.”

She laughed hysterically at me but she didn’t make things any clearer. When I finally DID get around to the wedding night, I was more than a little taken aback.

“You want to do what?...With that?...Where?”

Thinking about that silly article, I’d love to speak to the wife of the guy who is wants us to believe that a woman‘s ability to orgasm has:
“more to do with her genes than her partner...” All he has done is give lazy men an excuse for not trying, "Baby, it's not me, you're just not MADE to climax! It's genetic!"

Yeah, right.

I’d take a well versed man over a strand of RNA 8 days a week.

Meg