Tag Archives: Salt N Pepa

A Touchy Subject

20 Feb

Hands touchingI was feeling a little old school this morning, so I fired up Salt N Pepa’s Whatta Man on my iPod as I walked to work. I like that song, and who cares if it came out, like, 20 years ago. As I bopped along, one part of the song perked my ears up. The lyrics go like this:

My man gives real loving that’s why I call him Killer
He’s not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, he’s a thriller
He takes his time and does everything right
Knocks me out with one shot for the rest of the night
He’s a real smooth brother, never in a rush
And he gives me goose pimples with every single touch

Hmmm. Goose pimples with every single touch. Clearly her man knows exactly where and how she wants to be touched. The dudes in romance novels are blessed with this knowledge as well, never needing any instructions or guidance into where our hot buttons are, they just know it. They also know where our hot button is, and what to do with it once they strike gold. These guys are goooood. I guess that’s why they’re in romance novels. But real life? Not so simple.

Part of the challenge in teaching our partners how to have the right touch is that, well, you actually have to teach them. As in talk to them, telling them exactly what it takes to get you going. A lot of us are kind of quiet on that matter. Why? Is it just way too embarrassing to have to reveal what feels good and what’s not so hot? Is it better to just hope and pray that your guy gets it right rather than speak up and say, “yeah, that’s it. Harder. Slower. Faster. More!”

A friend of mine holds nothing back when it comes to teaching her man. She’s very direct in telling a  new lover what she wants and how she wants it. When I asked her if she was ever embarrassed by having to do that, she said she wasn’t embarrassed in the least, but it’s happened that the guy didn’t necessarily like it. It wasn’t clear to her why that was although she conceded that maybe he felt emasculated by the whole thing. Like he was supposed to just somehow know everything about pleasing her because . . . well, because he’s a guy. Or something.

Honestly, it seems kind of insane to have an expectation that someone new would know exactly what to do since we all like different things. A smart smack on the rump feels sexy as hell to some and tortuous to others. How’s a guy to know? Or a gal, for that matter. Guys gotta speak up for what they want, too.

Maybe it’s the words that make things difficult. Imagine yourself saying, in the heat of the moment, “Um, you could rub my (pussy? vagina?) a little harder?” It’s so un-sexy seeming, too clinical or dry or un-romantic. How much more fun if our lovers could simply touch us where and when and how we want it. ‘Cause if they don’t do it right, and we have to say something to correct it, they might get a little, you know, touchy.

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