I think about Switching Teams at least Once a Week
At least once a week I consider switching teams. Like seriously consider it. Go through a mental checklist of pros and cons. I swore during my last relationship that if it failed I would give up men. For good. Needless to say, it failed. I haven’t quite been able to give up men, yet, but at least once a week I seriously consider it. Ask myself, could I become a lesbian? Am I a lesbian deep down? Do I secretly find women attractive?
I think it would be easier to pick up a woman than it is a man. I know it seems absurd because men are supposed to be putty when it comes to sex and all a woman has to do it suggest it and they’ll surrender willingly, but in my experience that’s not the case. For every good-looking, funny, intelligent man there are at least 10 good-looking women more than willing to throw themselves at him. The unfortunate result is the majority of good-looking, funny, intelligent alpha men are lazy. They don’t have to work for it. They’ll rarely even meet you half-way on the courtship game because they’re used to having the women do all the work. At least with a woman I feel my flirting would be met half way.
While in theory it might seem easier to get a good-looking, funny, intelligent woman into bed, I think pleasing said woman would be much harder. Men are easy to please. The same techniques, in my humble experience, are pretty universal. Only minor, if any, alterations need to be made for different models. Women however, are like completely different instruments.
Maybe the same family of instruments (going from a trombone to an electric guitar in a metaphor is probably a bit extreme), but definitely different instruments in the same family. For examples sake, let’s say woodwind. Each requires a slightly different placement of the mouth and fingers. They all need to be held differently, played according to their own rhythm and tempo. It all seems like a good deal of work, quite frankly. I’d much prefer the triangle, where you just put the pointy thing in the hole, shake it around a bit until you get a good noise. Women also tend to take five times as long.
A benefit of making love to a woman would be you’d never have to worry about getting pregnant. Or getting her pregnant, I suppose. Not that I’ve worried about getting a guy pregnant. In the heat of the moment, you could make love without having to fumble around in the drawer for a condom, struggle to tear the packet open, try not to stare as he puts it on by pretending you suddenly find the clock on your wall super interesting.
The downside is vaginas are kind of weird. They’re all dark and they have their own climate. For all anyone knows a woman could be hiding a tribe of ants wearing tiny cowboy hats in her vagina and no one would be any the wiser.
So inevitably each week I come to the same conclusion. That I don’t like vaginas. And that women, by and large, are crazy. Bat-shit crazy. There is no method to our madness. God only knows I can’t figure out what I want half the time, so how in the world would I possibly figure out what a woman wants. So a second-base lesbian I would be at best.