For some reason, a lot of people (and a lot of writers, in particular) like to group everything including sex they see or experience into a small number of categories. Everywhere you look on the web, you’ll see articles about the “three kinds of evil” or the “three kinds of laziness” or the “five reasons why no list should provide more than three examples.”
Calico recently ran across one of these which definitely was news to her: Apparently, there’s only three categories of sex. But in looking over the three types of sex, she didn’t see one which accurately described the sort of sex she has with her husband.
As Calico, who is admittedly a bit of a reductionist, sees it, there’s only one conclusion she can draw from this. And what did she conclude? Find out in her latest post, “Bad News Honey: Apparently, We Aren’t Having Sex”
by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com Porn For Women
If there’s one thing I love (or maybe three things I love) it’s the ability some people possess to look at the world around them and come up with a small number of well-defined categories into which everything fits.
I think this works out best when you divide things into groups of three. Why three? Hell if I know – but maybe it has something to do with the comedy rule of three, or the Holy Trinity, or possibly the Three Stooges.
At any rate, as we all know, there’s only three kinds of knowledge, three kinds of evil and three kinds of laziness. (With that last one, part of me wonders if the reason there’s only three kinds of laziness is the person who came up with the idea of putting laziness types into categories was a bit lazy, but we’ll leave that question for another time.)
What I didn’t know, until today, is there’s also three categories of sex.
If I Fall Into A Sexual Trance, Do I Risk Falling Out Of Bed?
In her blog post about some guy’s book, which is in turn about some other guy’s research, Chandrama Anderson lists the three categories of sex as “Sexual Trance,” “Role Playing” and “Partner Engagement.”
If I were to stop reading at this point (and believe me, I strongly considered doing so), I might think these categories involved hypnotism, chainmail armor and challenging my partner to a fight, respectively.
As it turns out though, the chainmail is optional.
Anderson says the sexual trance category involves “a focus on bodily sensation.”
“Your eyes are likely closed, and you’re noticing each and every touch and sensation that’s happening to your body,” she continues. “This is highly sensual and lovely. It’s probably dark and quiet, and you are in your zone, and enjoying each moment. You likely take turns pleasuring and being pleased. It’s also possible that you are not especially emotionally connected as you float in this trance.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve never been in a sexual trance – mostly because I typically don’t realize there was tracked-in kitty litter on the bed until I notice a few small flecks of it compressed into my butt cheeks once we’re done.
Plus, I’m not sure I want to go into a sexual trance, at least not as it is described above. Not to put too fine a point on it, but “noticing each and every touch and sensation” isn’t my idea of a good time, considering how much my husband sweats and the fact he’s often on top.
Huzzah! ‘Tis Time For Renaissance Fair Sex! Or Is That Not What You Meant?
This brings us to “role playing” – a term which (speaking of threes) always makes me think of one of three things: Dungeons & Dragons, the Society for Creative Anachronism or all that “Q Anon” bullshit.
None of that is related to the sex category of role playing, though… I hope?
“This is playful and can involve dressing up, playing out fantasies, describing scenes and what each partner is doing/wearing, etc.,” Anderson writes. “For example, you may describe a scene such as, ‘We’re on a boat in the Bahamas, the moon is full, you’re wearing…’ You may shop for sex toys, books, lingerie, and so on. You may create an actual pick up scene at a restaurant or club and take him or her home or to a hotel. Role Play is fun and exciting and also perhaps scary to play out the range of your ideas.”
Hmm. I’m pretty sure my husband and I don’t role play, either. The last time I remember him dressing up was for Halloween several years ago, when he put on sunglasses, tightened the hood of a sweatshirt around his face and declared that he was dressed up as “that one old sketch of the Unabomber.”
If He’s Snoring, Does This Mean He’s Not “Engaged”?
The third and final category of sex is partner engagement, which Anderson describes as being “based on emotional connection.”
Hmm. Unless emotional connection includes laughing at the fart-like sounds which result from us fucking, I’m not sure this one applies to us, either.
“Your eyes are open, the lights are on, you are verbally and physically sharing, mutual pleasuring, playful, talking, laughing, and experimenting,” Anderson writes. “You may say, ‘Let’s try this position,’ or ‘Does this feel good?’ You may notice something funny. Loving and connected; this can be truly vulnerable.”
I can sort of remember some of the things on this list from the early days of our sex life, especially the request to try out some new sexual position – but it’s mostly in the context of me saying “No way, you’ll drop me on my face!”
The bad news is, if these are the three categories of sex, then my husband and I haven’t had sex in years. The good news is, I think whatever we’re doing still results in me having more orgasms than I’d get from wearing chainmail.
Calico’s work has appeared under various pen names in adult industry trade journals and on several mainstream op-ed portals, including the Huffington Post.