I have written about a lot of areas where creativity can lead to an improvement, I think it’s time for this one.
No, I’m not writing about using erotic stories as a means to discuss your and your partners desires, or present a questionnaire that can be used more quickly, or recommend visiting a psychologist or a domina/us to deal with issue or explore the horizon, or even how you can overcome the inhibition you were raised in to take a more active part in sex and actually make sure that you get what you need to take off.
Instead I simply cite two of the best passages on this topic from my favorite author, Robert A. Heinlein, as food for thought and stimulation to explore the issue further:
“So far as I know, your culture is the only semicivilized one in which love is not recognized as the highest art and given the serious study it deserves.” […] I lay there a while longer, thinking about what she had said. The “highest art” — and back home we didn’t even study it, much less make any attempt to teach it. Ballet takes years and years. Nor do they hire you to sing at the Met just because you have a loud voice. Why should “love” be classed as an “instinct”? Certainly the appetite for sex is an instinct — but did another appetite make every glutton a gourmet, every fry cook a Cordon Bleu? Hell, you had to learn even to be a fry cook. I walked out of the steam room whistling “The Best Things in Life Are Free” — then chopped it off in sudden sorrow for all my poor, unhappy compatriots cheated of their birthright by the most mammoth hoax in history.
“Glory Road” by Robert A. Heinlein
“Oscar, when you get home [to Earth, he is on another planet], don’t expect too much of your feminine compatriots. You’re sure to be disappointed and the poor dears aren’t to blame. American women, having been conditioned out of their sex instincts, compensate by compulsive interest in rituals over the dead husk of sex … and each one is sure she knows ‘intuitively’ the right ritual for conjuring the corpse. She knows and nobody can tell her any different … especially a man unlucky enough to be in bed with her. So don’t try. You will either make her furious or crush her spirit. You’ll be attacking that most Sacred of Cows: the myth that women know all about sex, just from being women.”
Rufo had frowned. “The typical American female is sure that she has genius as a couturiere as an interior decorator, as a gourmet cook, and, always, as a courtesan. Usually she is wrong on four counts. But don’t try to tell her so.”
[…] But don’t misunderstand me; it evens out. The American male is convinced that he is a great warrior, a great statesman, and a great lover. Spot checks prove that he is as deluded as she is. Or worse. Historo-culturally speaking, there is strong evidence that the American male, rattier than the female, murdered sex in your country.”
“What can I do about it?”
“Slip over to France now and then. French women are almost as ignorant but not nearly as conceited and often are teachable.”
“Glory Road” by Robert A. Heinlein
Thoughts, questions, comments? 😉
