Monkeying Around

I feel compelled to mention that while I am writing this blog post on half of my screen, on the other side is a timer counting down until I can take day 2 of the Jeopardy! adult online test.  I’m not delusional enough to think that I will actually get on Jeopardy! — if I did, I would make a fool of myself [unless the categories were all geography or all about animals].  Anyhow, I like trivia, I like learning new things, and I think it is fitting to start this post off with the statement “I’m a pretty big nerd.  Not huge, but pretty big.”


Last Sunday I was horny.  Of course I was also on my period — hormones are not fair.  I decided to go shopping because 1) I want to find a new dress for an upcoming wedding and 2) shopping is just as fun as sex, right?  No. It’s not.  (ok ok sometimes I’d rather shop and yes some shopping is better than some sex…but in general, shopping will not satisfy a sex craving.)

Shopping doesn’t go great.  Not only do I not come across any good dresses, but at one point I find myself standing in a department store watching a sparrow fly repeatedly into a window.  He looks confused.  He can see the outside but cannot get there.  I start getting sad.  I begin to edge closer to the bird, trying my best to emit “I want to help you” vibes.  My loose plan is to get close enough so that I can throw the dress I’m holding over the bird and then sprint out the door to release him.  I realize that 1) I may smother him to death and 2) I may find myself having to explain to police that I wasn’t shoplifting and was in fact rescuing an avian friend.

It’s probably for the best that the bird isn’t picking up on my helper vibes, and flies away.  I sigh, wondering how many birds die of starvation or dehydration in stores each year.  Having lost my taste for shopping (and my will to live — hormones + the bird incident = I’m throwing a huge sad), I leave.  In a last-ditch effort to have a successful shopping journey, I hit TJ Maxx.  That ends with me sitting pants-less in a fitting room for twenty minutes texting my BFF Coco about how my deepest darkest desire is to call a cab to drive me to Shake Shack (hormones think food fixes everything).

I don’t call the cab, as that seems very pathetic.  Instead, I remember that I packed myself some candy as a pick-me-up (because 50% of all shopping adventures end in disappointment!).  I gobble all the candy and immediately feel the sugar kick in.  Using my newfound energy, I head home and realize the best place for me is actually the gym — endorphins are everyone’s friend.

However, once I get home from the gym, shower, and watch a few quality hours of Netflix, I’m back to being horny.  I start texting Jerry and don’t last very long before I tell him I want to take an Uber to his house dressed in only a trench coat and then give him head until he comes all over.  I’ve always thought the idea of driving over to someone’s place in only a trench sounded exceedingly hot, so why not do it now!

Jerry is, needless to say, pretty receptive to my idea.  Soon I’m in the back of Enrique’s fairly dirty (by Uber standards) Camry, on my way to Sex Village.  I worry ever so slightly that this will be the one time my Uber driver is actually a crazed maniac who wants to rape and murder me.  How unfortunate would it be if that time overlapped with the time that I had only one layer between my naked self and the entire world?  I’d throw myself out of his moving car and would end up in a naked scraped up heap on a busy Boston street.  No, you don’t need to tell me that I have an overactive imagination.  I’m aware.

Enrique proves to be very nice and I arrive at Jerry’s safely.  I find him in his room, on his bed, wearing boxer briefs and a plaid shirt. Hooooooot!  We great each other the standard adult male-female way — lots of kissing and touching — and then my trench comes off.  Even if I’m not going to be getting laid (damn you, uterus…), I’m super turned on.  Very into the whole “I’ve just come across town like a tart, dressed in basically nothing, all to seduce and sexually satisfy this attractive-as-hell man” scenario.  Making out continues, but then Jerry asks if I knew that we’re currently in a dorsal position (i.e. face-to-face), and the only other animal known to copulate this way is the bonobos monkey.

I did not know that.

I also didn’t know that the bonobos are our closest relative (assuming you believe in evolution), though historically the chimpanzee has often been toted as such.  Nor did I know that female bonobos have larger clitorises compared to other mammals, and often engage in genital-to-genital touching as part of socialization.  Or that bonobos are known for their hyper-sexuality — a trait humans share.  In fact, I even did not know that bonobos do not form permanent monogamous sexual relationships with individual partners.  Apparently, both males and females use sexual interaction for the purposes of socializing much more frequently than other animals.

Jerry also goes into the concept of concealed ovulation.  Bonobos do not have concealed ovulation, but humans do (i.e. not much changes physically to announce that a female is ovulating).  I learn about the development of concealed ovulation in human women and the theories surrounding why it developed.

And I’ll be honest — throughout the entire half-hour-or-so long spiel about bonobos and sexuality, part of me (the nerd part I previously mentioned) was very interested in this conversation and the information involved.  And his cuteness levels achieved through nerdiness?? Off. The. Charts.

But the other part of me (the woman part) was like WHAT. THE. FUCK. is happening??  I just rode in a dirty Uber with some creepy (sorry Enrique, you weren’t really) dude in a fucking trench coat and now I’m here and willing and sexy and you want to talk about science?!?!?!?  Really making a girl feel super sexy and wanted, Jerry! <punts Jerry out window>

I then asked Jerry whether…as a 16 year old…or 18 year old…or whatever ages he was a virgin, he ever laid in bed masturbating and fantasizing about a girl coming over to his place scantily clothed and ready for sex stuff [that’s how a virgin talks, duh], and thought, I can’t wait to get her in just the right position and then START TALKING ABOUT MONKEYS ENDLESSLY.

Jerry laughed, laid back, let me open my mouth, and shut his (except for the dozen or so times he started whispering to Jesus).

There is a time and a place for learning.  There is a time and a place for sex.  In my life — the life of a weirdo — sometimes those times overlap.

I’m going to end with this perfect quote by author John Green:

With love, B!

P.S. after writing this, I was reminded of my favorite article of (maybe) all-time by Katie Heaney. I read this back when it first came out in 2011 and have re-read it so many times when I’ve needed a laugh: My Period Takes Me Shopping

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