“Blow jobs.” Mrs. Garrison insisted. “Blow jobs!” She repeated, this time her eyes were a little larger, as she leaned forward on the edge of her seat shaking her head up and down in affirmation of her own assessment before taking another swill of champagne.
I have to say, attending the bachelorette party of my mother’s sixty year old bestfriend, Dana, last weekend was weird. And by weird, I mean watching her open different negligee sets was gross and uncomfortable, but things took a truly horrific turn when someone pulled out a book of questions and thought to survey the crowd of my mother, myself, both of my sister-in-laws, Dana, Ms. Garrison and about ten other women that should have been in aprons making their grandkids cookies and a hot milk at that exact moment, “What makes someone good in bed?”
Rough sex immediately came to mind, but I didn’t think my mother’s living room was the right place to announce my affinity for date rape, so I just stared at my lap while a few people shared way, way, way too much.
Being single, being young and being way too hip for this crowd proved to be a curse as I was immediately pressured into sharing, and thus, forced out the word, “Confidence.”
Which…to be fair, confidence is probably not only the most important thing in the sack, but also in life… because let’s be honest, the only thing more annoying than someone looking to you for constant affirmation and guidance is a person looking to you for constant affirmation and guidance while buried between your legs. And, as a side note that I didn’t feel inclined to share with Ms. Garrison, or my mother, for that matter, but will share with a world full of strangers, is that blow jobs aren’t actually a sexual act so much as they are a tool for manipulating someone you love into doing something that they never knew they wanted to do but now they do want to do because you have put your mouth in the grossest, most horrible place that.has.ever.existed.
But, that’s me- what do you guys think? Was Ms. Garrison onto something? Are blow jobs (blow jobs!) the key to an amazing evening or does something else trump this? Maybe an affair? A video? Pretending you never had those kids? Getting the effing cat to stay in the effing living room and not watch for once?