When Sex Stories Let You Down

When Life in the Boomer Lane and her friends get together, they often discuss political issues, based on a deep understanding of history, culture, and the political process. Or they may also critique recent films and books and share those they feel are worthy of others to spend time on. Or they describe museum exhibits they have been to or are intending to visit. Or they just talk about sex.

This past weekend, at a women’s dinner, sex was on the menu, along with salmon, steak, vegetables, salad, and dessert.  Attendees told what they believed were stories worthy of sharing.

The first story detailed a meeting on a cruise ship between N, one of the dinner attendees, and a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, hunky Texan. The meeting was so electric, in fact that N accepted an invitation to travel to Texas to spend several days at Hunky’s home.

The women at the dinner sat forward in their seats while N detailed the visit. Their suspicions that all wasn’t going the way they imagined it would go began when N stated that there were separate bedrooms and M made it very clear that there would be no Hanky Panky on this visit. Anticipation did a U-turn when N continued with a description of how Hunky suddenly appeared in her bedroom sans clothing in the middle of the night.  Hopes were dashed when N related how she told Hunky in no uncertain terms to exit the room. Hunky exited and spent the rest of the visit not communicating with N.

N was asked why, if she knew she would do nothing sexual with Hunky, she flew across the country to visit him. “We were attracted to each other, and I simply wanted to get to know him better.” LBL thought that perhaps phone calls might have achieved that end, without the inordinate time and expense.

B followed. Given B’s history, dinner guests sat forward in their seats again. B detailed a trip to a dude ranch and an ongoing flirtation with one of the cowboys there. Unlike N’s story, there was no waffling or moral intrusion. B knew what she wanted. As the story developed, all dinner guests had mental images of a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, hunky type, someone, for example, like Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born.

The story continued with a hot assignation at a motel in the town near the dude ranch. Guests expelled their collective breaths, until one finally asked, “Just what did he look like?” Bradley Cooper was waiting patiently to be described. Instead, B answered, “He was really short, but he had a big hat.”

K was last, detailing the return of long-lost love after 40 years. Dinner guests were enthralled. They imagined great theme music in the background, uber-flattering lighting, and waves crashing on the shore. Every single film they had ever seen about people finding each other again replayed in their heads.

K paused, and guests all shouted out at once, “And then what happened?!”  K answered, “Oh, that. He died.”

With his death came the death of the discussion. Guests had to content themselves with a great array of desserts. Here was something that could be depended upon. Desserts, unlike many sexual encounters, almost never let one down.