Who cares, with your lips on mine…

Who cares, with your lips on mine,
how ignorant bliss is…

I was listening to Frank Sinatra this week and remembered how much I like his music. He sings a song called “How Little We Know.” It’s all about losing your mind when you touch someone. I like it. I’ve been there.

I always think of sex when I hear the song. Maybe that’s because I am male. Not just sex, though. I mean, knock down bottle rocket fuckstick hot caramel apple sundae secks. The kind that you think of years down the road and suddenly your whole body feels uncomfortably warm even though you are outside and it’s December.

I’ve had good sex before… recently. I’ve had quickies that made me smile for days. I’ve had those marathon sessions where I wasn’t sure if I was going to cum or die first. I’ve also had sex that was nothing to write home about. What made the difference? The alignment of the planets… the substance abuse from the night before… who can say.

I think it’s the nature of a good sexual relationship that it does blind us a little. Makes us ‘blissfully ignorant,’ one might say. When the honey is flowing, who cares how much is left in the honey pot. When the honey runs out, and we are left standing there sticky, naked, and clutching an empty receptacle of animal byproduct, one is left to wonder exactly where one deviated from the plan.

Maybe that is the plan, though. Maybe we never deviated from it. We take what we can get for as long as that other person fills our needs when the blinders wear off, we know it’s time to move on. When we are no longer possessed by a that denizen of Arcadia that takes us to bed and makes us bleed sweat and fluids as if we had no other endearing thing holding us to this world. And eventually, if you’re lucky, you find that person who is worth sticking to after the blinders wear off.

I’ve read and heard said that each person is responsible for their own orgasm in any situation, so if this is true then I have myself to thank or blame for wins and losses respectively. If so, great… but I would be remiss if I didn’t give a big “Thank You, God” for the girls out there.

At the end of the day, it is Sex: the closest you can ever possibly be, physically, to another human being. So I say enjoy it. I’ve spent the last several days wondering when exactly ‘sex’ turns into ‘making love’ but that is a whole different conversation, and in accordance with Frankie, I’m not up for defining that sort of thing tonight.

who cares to define
what chemistry this is
Who cares, with your lips on mine,
how ignorant bliss is,
so long as you kiss me
and the world around us shatters,
how little it matters,
how little we know