Sometimes my pillow talk feels like a presidential
debate. Two relatively sane adults
playing nice while not so subtly plotting to get their own way. Though Jim Lehrer isn’t usually the moderator
of my mattress, and I’m generally quite happy when my coital opponent goes over
the 2-minute timer, I’m too often left feeling much like an undecided voter…as
if the more aggressive candidate doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, and the
smart one isn’t getting the job done.
Jobs. The buzzword of
the 2012 election season. We talk a lot
about jobs in my line of work too…hand, blow, snow, the trickle-down (use your
imagination with that one). And just
like out there, in here on my couch, a lotta folks really want one, but have
given up trying to find a good one.
Which brings me to my patient, Lilly (names are changed to
protect the not-so-innocent). Lilly has
started to develop a pretty significant resentment against her boyfriend…we’ll
call him Border-Crossing-Chris. Lilly’s
been working overtime with all her jobs, particularly hand and blow. In the politics of punani, Lilly has taken
reaching across the aisle to a whole new level.
The poor girl has developed a pretty serious case of carpal tunnel, and
is well on her way to permanent lockjaw, all in the name of appeasement. And for all her hard work, Chris just heads
straight across the border !!! He does not
pass GO, does not collect $200, just guns it for the punani promised land. Well. Lilly’s had enough. She’s secured her southern border so tight,
Arizona is calling her for ideas. So
now, nothing’s getting in, but Lilly’s orgasm is dying to get out. How do Lilly and Chris cross the punani political divide and save their sex life?
I have to reach into the annals of my own political history
to help my patients, but often, they end up helping me. Lilly and Chris’s problem forces me to ask
myself, in the arena of intercourse discourse, have I been too politically
correct with the punani?
Maybe I made nice a little bit too often, when I should have
more aggressively asserted my needs.
C’mon girls, who amongst us haven’t let the south rise again…and
again…and again…all the while, wishing our partners would pay more attention to
the rest of the landscape? What about
the east coast? Or the west? Personally,
I’d like a little more attention paid to the Black Hills of Tennessee? And though I counseled Lilly to verbalize to
Chris her desire to add zones 1,2, and 3 to their foreplay, I must admit, with
my ex, sometimes I just voted absentee.
I phoned it in. Licked it,
stamped it, and just let him ram it my box.
Lilly took my advice and told Chris the truth. Lilly has now opened up her border again, and
Chris has promised her no illegal entry.
Their punani peace treaty made me realize that the truth is, in the
past, I’ve preferred to leave the debates to the presidential candidates, and
the arguing to the pundits. But if I’m
going to find my deepest orgasm in the next 364 days, I’m going to have to get
to the point and stop Romneying, i.e. stop talking about what the last guy did
wrong, and start talking about what I really want and what I’m willing to do to
get it.
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