There has always been an established mythos in the bedroom that, simply because male orgasms have sadly long been prioritized over females ones, every man finds every intercourse utterly ecstatic. It’s always the woman who is left looking askance and disappointed as they are being pounded away at, while the guy is gleefully grinning simply because our dick is inside something.
Well, *prepare-to-have-your-mind-blown voice* guess what? That’s not true. We are oft just as equally disappointed, pounding away while looking askance, desperate for the lady we are with to tell us they’re too tired to continue, so we can mercifully roll over without getting off and pass the fuck out.
There are so many things guy hate about having sex. Don’t believe me? That’s fine, because I just made a whole list to convince you otherwise.
1. We have to get hard way more times than you realize.
It’s never one sex, one erection. That ratio rarely, if ever, occurs. No, the path toward doing it (especially the first few times with someone) travels a sinuously hot and cold route from coming home to finally fucking. Yeah, it’s not the hardest damn thing in the world to get it up, but imagine this roller coaster: We start by kissing (hey, I’m hard), then stop to talk (that went away), followed by some mutually chest touching (is it … gonna come back?), followed by a pause to pee (which, hey, OK, I’m just gonna sit here and casually tug and hope this thing stays up). Our dicks aren’t motorized hospital beds, which, with the flip of a switch, can go from lying flat to pointing up, and each time we lose it and have to start all over again, it feels like it would be easier to call it a night.
2. We deal with a double standard about undressing, specifically shoe removal.
Ever since Adam and Eve recognized their original shame and clothed themselves, and then Adam made sexual advances toward Eve while she was still pissed about the whole “how the hell am I supposed to keep two leaves on my breasts all the fucking time?” thing, there’s been a natural progression when sex happens. Typically, the guy begins by taking off the lady’s shirt, then he probably unbuckles her bra, and then she unbuttons the guy’s shirt, and then he takes off their pants. But then there is the issue of shoes. Almost no woman ever removes a guy’s shoes. So while I’ve unzipped a hundred or so pairs of brown boots, or at least tugged on them and angled them upward as the girl I’m with wiggles her foot out, no one has ever, ever unlaced a pair of my Clarks. Never. When my jeans are pulled down and reach my shoes and won’t come off, most every woman reacts to that with the kind of exasperated frustration a toddler gives when you tell them it’s time to move on from Velcro sneakers.
3. Peeing with an erection is more difficult than raising a child.
Have you ever tried to pee with an erection? No, you haven’t, and it fucking sucks. You gotta stand above the toilet with your dick aimed somewhere just left of the handle, trying to push it down, while willing yourself soft, while also forcing out the pee that doesn’t want to come down your urethra because your bladder locks up once your penis is primed to ejaculate. It hurts like hell, but worse, because it takes absolutely forever for the flow to finally come, women end up thinking we are in there taking a dump.
4. We always have to guesstimate when it’s exactly the right time to do it.
Fingers are perfectly acceptable moisture barometers, but since we left the days of cramming three digits inside y’all in high school behind (at least I hope we did), I’m forced to make a general guess as to whether I’ve rightly razzed your jooch. Eighty-five percent of the time, we’re communicating well and I get it right, but those other times I realize I might have jumped the gun. Then I feel very stupid. And disrespectful. There should be one of those Thanksgiving turkey pop-up ding things on pussies is what I’m saying.
5. It’s harder than you realize to not come.
One day, men will evolve and develop a mechanism with which to restrain the quick dispensing of cum. Like, I bet in a thousand years. But right now … imagine being so fucking turned on, and so fucking ready to go, then instantly having to shut off all those urges. Sure, once the rush passes, it’s great, but the first minute of sex is like when you realize you took way too much LSD and the trip’s coming in real intense, and there’s nothing you can do but hold on until that first major wave passes. Fun, but not that fun.
6. It’s often not that satisfying.
What, you thought women were the only people who could be disappointed in bed? We already covered this, but still, not very respectfully woke of you. I guess our dissatisfaction stems from the average man’s general inability to decide on any lone thing and also perhaps our insane consumption of pornography (so maybe this one is all our fault). Nowadays, there are so many positions and techniques and myriad fucked-up shit to try with someone else that during the average sexual encounter I wanna do, like, at least 80 of the things. And, like, let’s be serious. I’m probably only going to get to do four. So we gotta pick and choose what we want out of each encounter. It’s like, so, if I ask her if she will sit on my face while I jack off, then I probably have to table until next time the reversal cowgirl while I get to look at and play with her butt.
7. We’re always expected to come.
I long ago gave up being disappointed when I couldn’t get a woman to come. I will always try my damnedest, but if she says it isn’t going to happen, I trust her and I get over it. But I’d rather be inside a woman and tell her I was voting for Trump then let her know I couldn’t come. The questions are more invasive than any political grilling she could ever give me. What? Why? I don’t understand. Sometimes that’s just what happens and I don’t want to have to explain it, because often times the truth is I’ve already jacked off three times that day, and no amount of pumping and thrusting, and imagining I’m in my own pornography and the director is yelling at me and telling me my financial wherewithal and future in the industry, is dependent upon my finishing will get me to come. I fake orgasms a lot.
You know what’s worse than any of those things?
8. I’m not allowed to complain about any of this shit.
You’re already upset, right? You were upset, like, 200 hundred words in, because all this seems like really piddly shit in our patriarchally dominated society. “Oh, this jack-off can’t be bothered to take off his own fucking shoes when I’m willingly about to fuck him and it makes him sad? Fuck him.”
True, but I ask when was the last time you unlaced a man’s shoe? I bet you couldn’t even answer that.
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This article originally appeared on Cosmopolitan.com. Minor edits have been made by the Cosmo.ph editors.