Manslations (7 page)

I do know that both of them lay eggs. So far, not helpful. And bees live in some weird configuration in which there's one female for the whole society. And before we start thinking that this might be somehow fun for her, it's not like she gets a room filled with Brad Pitt and George Clooney. It's just bees. Not that she's anyone to judge, being a bee herself. Okay, now that I think about it, that seems okay. But still, it's not going to help any of us primates get laid, so why are we even talking about it?

Anyway, in this section of the book, we'll talk about some of the things that women seem to believe about men regarding sex, and we'll explore just what the truth is about the whole thing. It seems to me that there are four distinct areas of the male mind that we need to cover:

Thinking about sex (also known as the “vast majority of the time”)


Pursuing sex (not quite as much of the time as in number one, but still a lot)


During sex (not nearly as much of the time as numbers one or two… for me, at least)


After sex (that ten-minute period before we head right back to number one)

By the time we get through here, you're going to know way, way more about men than maybe you even wanted to. (Get ready: In the area of sex, we're far more different from each other than you probably imagine.)

Okay, from what I'm told, this is one area in which men and women aren't even remotely similar. And no matter what you think we're thinking, it's probably… worse. Think of what is sometimes considered the cheapest, trashiest version of the female fantasy—the romance novel. A romance novel is related to a male fantasy in the way that a nice cup of coffee is related to crystal meth.

Porn has been involved in
every
technological leap we've ever made—and probably within about ten minutes of each leap, going all the way back to pioneer times. Consider:

Computers = computer porn


VCRs = VHS porn


Film = film porn


Telephone = phone sex


Telegraph = I'm sure that ten minutes after this was invented, there was a guy working the telegraph with one hand and whacking off with the other.

What comes next? My guess: virtual reality. As soon as this technology is invented, society is in big, big trouble. Seriously. They have this on
Star Trek
where you can go into a room and experience full-body holograms of whatever you ask for. Look, as soon as that happens, there will be no starships, no lasers, no war, no industry, and no society. The day that a guy can press a button and have sex with Jessica Alba/Simpson/ Biel is the day that no one ever goes to work again.

Why do we always make porn out of technology? Because the guys who make brilliant leaps in technology aren't seeing the business end of a boob very often. Think of the guys who invented the Internet. (No, not Al Gore—the other guys.) About ten seconds after they came up with it, I'm sure they were working on ways to meet women, real or otherwise. It's just the natural way.

So how do you, the girlfriend/wife/what-have-you, deal with this obsession? Porn is not
so
different from what the two of you are supposed to be doing together… and ain't no way you're doing…
that.

No worries. A real man doesn't expect you to. This is just his fantasy world. Hold on, don't get disgusted. Remember male sexual fantasies? Remember how I told you they weren't like your fantasies? Yeah, here's what I was talking about. A man does not watch porn like an athlete watching game tape, looking for tips and planning out his next move. (Well, a smart man doesn't do that, anyway.)

In other words, we don't have fantasies about this stuff thinking that it might actually happen. (The things that we are allowed to actually do, we just do. Why fantasize about… reality?)

I know you want him to fantasize differently. I know, I know. But he doesn't. The good news is it shouldn't matter. I know that there are men who are “addicted” to porn, but that's a different thing. If we're talking about your average man with your average porn fascination? No worries: We do not expect or need you to like it.

And if he does want you to get into watching and/or emulating porn with him, there's nothing wrong with saying, “Listen, that stuff doesn't do it for me, okay? It's not my thing.” Just make sure you follow that up with, “But you know what does do it for me…?” I think you'll find that this is one of those areas in which men can be excellent listeners.

Okay, if I may, I'd like to pause for a moment and talk science. Given that I went to an arts school where my math
and
science requirements were fulfilled by taking a nutrition class taught by a fat person, feel free to take this “science” with a grain of salt. (But only a grain, because, as I recall from that class, sodium is bad for you. Or maybe it was good for you. Hard to remember when the teacher once listed a doughnut as a part of a healthy breakfast. Seriously.)

Here's the issue for men. We are biologically predetermined to be the aggressors in sex, because we can make as many babies as there are vaginas to put them in. Women can only make one baby at a time. Or two, in my sister's case. Actually, wasn't there somebody on the news who had, like, eleven at once? Look, let's not get all hung up on the numbers. No matter how many babies there are, they still only have one place to hang around in until they're born, is my point. And for good or ill, men don't have that physical restriction.

Now, this doesn't mean that all men need to do something about that fact, but on a purely physical level, men are only limited by (a) the hours in the day, and (b) our ability to convince you ladies to let us do sex unto you.

So since our brains are constantly on the lookout for potential vacation spots for our penises, men are biologically trained to constantly be on the lookout for women who fit one of two criteria:

They are totally smoking hot, or


They might be willing to have sex with us.

Preferably both at the same time.

It's not personal. Your man—yes,
your
man—wants to have sex with every woman he sees. Not necessarily in an active way. He's not “after” her. He doesn't care about her. Doesn't have to. His brain and body are just alerting him to the fact that she exists and is potentially available for sex. And if a woman wants to have sex with him, this puts the male body/mind on full alert. Why? Because that's one of those two criteria—it's battle stations! “Alert! Alert! Sex is 100 percent available! DEFCON 1! Other alert-type noises!”

This is where we see the big misunderstanding: “How can he want to have sex with her? She's an idiot!” Well, maybe so, but she is either a hot idiot or a willing idiot. Biologically speaking, we are not designed to let those things slip our attention. In a very real way, that is what male attention is for. (That and hooking up home-theater equipment.) The reason why he wants to have sex with her is that she exists and is, in some way, attractive. That's the beginning and end of it.

Note that men don't generally attach much significance to our sexual fantasies. Sometimes we don't even really notice that we've had one. It's just our brain's way of saying “hi.” As in, “Oh, we're looking at a woman. Okay, let's run that through the simulator. Yep. That's what sex with
her
might be like. Okay, let's move on with our day.”

Such a Near Miss

How many times have you seen a Civil War–themed romance novel cover on which some unrealistically buxom Confederate war widow is leaning back, breathless, on her veranda, as a wounded, shirtless Union soldier is ravaging her?

Okay, but then you also have men—actual living men— who are putting on that very same outfit and reenacting great battles of that same Civil War with like-minded idiots. If these men weren't such dorks, and if the women who are reading those romance novels would get rid of some of their cats, and if they would both take a few spinning classes, they could reenact both parts together! The guys would get to run around, pretending to shoot their dork friends, and then go home and bang the holy living hell out of their costumed lady friend on the veranda. It's a win-win. Such a shame. Ah, well.

Here's an image for you. Think of a man's conscious mind as being not unlike your own. And then, imagine the part of his brain that's in charge of sexual fantasies sitting off to the side, not unlike a crack-addicted chipmunk flipping through seven hundred channels of homemade porn featuring every woman he's ever thought of for longer than, say, a nanosecond. Lots of times we're not even paying any attention. It's like cleaning the house with the TV on.

I know that sounds gross, but it's true. And if it's any consolation, it's probably a lot grosser than you're picturing. Just thank whatever god(s) you worship for your inability to visualize it accurately.

And no matter how disgusted with us you become, you just don't know the half of it. Which brings us to our first sex myth:

FACT: However much time you think we spend on this, well, it's probably more.

When you roll your eyes and say that men are only ever thinking about sex, see, you think you mean that figuratively, but I'm telling you that men are
literally always
thinking about sex.

I have occasionally heard one or another woman—disgusted with some dude's behavior—say something along the lines of, “I swear, half the time he's only thinking about sex!”

I always wonder what in the holy hell she imagines he's thinking about the other half of the time??! Are you kidding me? I couldn't possibly fill up
half my day
thinking about… see? I can't even think of stuff that would occupy one out of every two thoughts, let alone actually think those thoughts. I think about video games, computers, and giant televisions a lot, and that's still got to cover at most maybe 10 percent of the time.

Now, that doesn't mean that men are
only
thinking about sex. It just means that there is always some little piece of our brains thinking about sex. In the background, I'm saying. Just like the way that no matter whom you're talking to, you are subconsciously aware of every pair of shoes in the room and whether or not you think those shoes are cute. It's called “multitasking,” people.

Sex with whom?

Anybody. Everybody. You. Your friends, your sister, people we saw on the train. Celebrities, coworkers, or that time we saw half a boob across a crowded room and pieced her together into a whole woman.

It's not exactly “thinking,” per se. It's just our mental filing system doing its thing: “Okay. Let's put her in the
dopey but gorgeous
section, and cross-file her under
possible threesomes with Jessica Alba.
”(Sorry, sorry. I'm so, so sorry.)

Yes. Every man who sees you is thinking, however briefly, about having sex with you.

Please re-read that sentence.

No, read it again.

See, I think you skimmed it and reinterpreted it to mean that “a lot” of the “disgusting” men are thinking about having sex with “some women” and “some of the time.” No, I'm talking about
you,
and I'm talking about
all
of us, even the nice guys.

You know what, I don't think you're ever going to believe me on this one. And it's for the best. I think the fact that you can't believe that I'm serious right now is Mother Nature's little way of ensuring that you'll let us have sex with you enough times to keep the species going.
^*

A Difficult Truth about Men and Masturbation

Let me tell you something disturbing. This is a horrible thing to know about all of the men in your life. Ready to learn something just terrible? Here we go.

Every man in your life thought about you while whacking off at least one time. Maybe only for a couple of seconds. But they did it. Yep. Every man you know and many you don't. (No, not your relatives, sickos. But probably all of their friends.)

I'm not suggesting that each of them spent a lot of time on you. The duration of the male sexual fantasy is counted in milliseconds—as in, somewhere between one and five seconds is plenty, and then the aforementioned crack-addicted chipmunk switches channels. But trust me, you were in there somewhere. Maybe not every time, maybe not often, maybe not for very long. But it happened.

If it helps in any way, these guys were picturing you having a fantastic time. Or both of you, as the case may be.