An oldie but, well, my favorite.

This is an entry I wrote on my Xanga site, 4 years ago yesterday.  To date, it may just be my favorite thing that I've ever written.  It's a little racy, so skip it, or read with caution, or with a glass of wine, whichever's your pleasure.

My title is: Another stupid example of how our country is made up of whiney faced a-holes who sue people for making coffee too hot call them racists or biggots or sexists for having any thought that contradicts what any other person might think or say or do- An Essay.                                                      

So last night was Friday, and Shane and I went to the grocery store to pick up some eggs. While waiting in line, we decided to purchase our very first Cosmo magazine, in order to discover how a woman might pleasure her man in a way no other woman might have had the nerve to do so yet. (It was called: "The Sex He Secretly Craves". We were guessing anal. It wasn't anal. Awkwaaard...) 

But as we skimmed through the glossy pages of sexual suggestions, we came across something rather alarming: an article entitled A New Kind of Date Rape. Well see, personally I was getting pretty bored with both the "too drunk to know better", and the "sure her lips said no but her va-jay-jay said yes yes" forms of date rape, so I was intrigued.  

So here are the steps to the posh new date rape fad we must all fall in with, sayeth Cosmo, Goddess of creepy sex tips and so so perfume swatches: 

1) If we both get really really drunk, and then we're fooling around, and I whisper no, but we're basically about in the act, and you don't zip up before I pass out, (seriously, I'm that drunk), you raped me. Slammer time. 

2) If we both get really really drunk, and we've actually begun the act of coitus, and I say no, and you don't immediately pull out and tell you how much you respect me for my mind, you've got it, more slammer time. 

3) If we both get really really drunk, and have again begun the bow chick chicka part of the evening, and I don't so much as say "no", but maybe stiffen up in a way that displays a certain distaste for what's currently going on, and you don't run out of the room with your pants still around your ankles, once again, I'm raped, you're imprisoned. 

4) And lastly, say.... oh, I don't know, we both get like, really really drunk, and then we're fooling around, and that's nice, and then we go a little farther, and then you (how do we put this in a PG, "babies still come from storks" way) "begin the beautiful act of love by comin on in for the special hug time" (Nope, that sounded really kind of pervy) and then I make a groany type noise, and you say, "What's wrong?" and immediately leave the special hug scenario so as not to in any way do something I don't want, well for you sir, you're sicko rapist, that'll by 5 years hard time.  

Cosmo notes the fact that this new rape phenomenon (which they call "Gray Rape") is in part due to (gasp) excessive drinking, women becoming more sexually aggressive, and the culture and lifestyle of "Screw me now, get my name later". However, they also go on to discuss that women need to be allowed the "right" to continue expressing themselves in a sexually and heavily intoxicated way. Just know, as a man, if you happen to make eye contact with a woman who is both sexual AND heavily intoxicated, you are probably a rapist. Now off to jail with you, you sexual miscreant. No passing Go, no collecting any actual Pooty Tang.