Sexy Sunday Thoughts: St. Patrick’s Day Edition

Top of the morning to ye, my lovely lasses and laddies! I hope everyone here had a safe, fun, hangover-free St. Patrick’s Day this past week. Whether you stayed sober or got more drunk than Homer Simpson at happy hour, I hope you all had a fun, sexy time.

I know St. Patrick’s Day isn’t exactly Christmas in March. I know it doesn’t involve elaborate gifts, fancy deserts, or family gatherings that coincide with football games. However, it does involve a damn good excuse for heavy drinking, bad dancing, and public nudity. We all live such stressful lives these days. I say we need something like that every now and then.

I won’t go into detail about how I spent my St. Patrick’s Day. Just assume it involved more than a few beers and resulted in some form of nudity. For me, that constitutes a successful holiday in any capacity. Considering how sick I was a week ago, it’s a damn good feeling and one that has inspired some sexy musings.

As such, I’m proud to present my official St. Patrick’s Day edition of “Sexy Sunday Thoughts.” I can’t guarantee that all of these musings were surmised with a sober mind. I also can’t guarantee they won’t disturb those still recovering from a hangover. I’ll just say that they’re a product of a mind that’s just glad to not be sick anymore and eager to celebrate any holiday that inspires public nudity. Enjoy!

“Women underestimate how much breasts make men act stupid and overestimate how much they’ll regret that stupidity in the morning.”

I’ve seen men do many stupid things when in the presence of exposed breasts. I, myself, have done my share of foolish things in the presence of breasts. I don’t think that women understand just how much power their breasts have over us.

It often leads to cases where women complain about male stupidity when in the presence of beautiful women. I get why some women feel that way. Even some men feel that way. However, they don’t seem to understand how futile it is to make men feel sorry for appreciating the power of breasts. You can shame men for a lot of reasons. Being stupid around breasts isn’t one of them.

“It’s inherently hypocritical for men to insult a woman for being a bitch, but still wanting her to fuck like one.”

I’m a man. I have a lot of male friends. As such, it’s not uncommon for some of those friends to complain about a woman being too bitchy, whether it’s a co-worker, a girlfriend, a sibling, or a spouse. In some cases, the insult is justified. In most, however, it’s somewhat misguided.

That’s because I’ve also noticed how men expect so much from their women. They want a loyal, gentle, nurturing lady they can parade in front of their grandparents, but they also want a kinky nymphomaniac who will fuck like Jenna Jameson on crack. That’s expecting too much, in my opinion, and insults mixed with hypocrisy is never sexy.

“A man who shaves his balls assumes way too much about the role they play in his sex appeal.”

I don’t know who started this trend. Whoever it is, I wish to personally punch them in the jaw. The male nutsack has a purpose and shaving it does nothing to enhance or facilitate that purpose. I get the logic behind grooming pubic hair and being mindful of one’s genitalia. I just don’t think the presence or absence of hair on a man’s balls has much influence on how sexy he is.

“We live in an era where a text message can count as foreplay and a compliment on a woman’s breasts can count as harassment.”

Honestly, I’m scared to compliment a woman on her appearance these days. Anything and everything said about her body can be construed as harassment of some kind. It’s frustrating because women say they want us to respect their bodies, but get offended when we compliment it. It’s enough to frustrate any man’s brain and genitals.

Then, there’s the idea of sexting. Apparently, this is how a new generation of horny men and women are getting around that issue. For them, a simple text message is the equivalent of tongue-kissing and copping a feel. I’m all for the power of the written word, but some kinds of power need not be that skewed.

“The fact that so many young people learn about sex through internet porn makes me worry that they overestimate the impact of spanking.”

Now I love internet porn as much as the next guy. I’m grateful for the service and convenience it provides. However, I worry that our collective unwillingness to talk to young people about sex is essentially deferring the issue to porn stars, porn studios, and Howard Stern.

That would be like ditching driver’s education and letting teenagers learn about driving by watching “The Fast and The Furious” in conjunction with having multiple orgasms. That’s going to leave a flawed impression. Given the amount of lubricant, tattoos, anal bleaching, and spanking involved in the average porn, I worry that an entire generation of youth will have a flawed understanding of what constitutes intimate, sensual experiences.

“Sex appeal is like the meat on the bone of a juicy stake. Romance is a willingness to slow-cook that steak and marinate it in special sauce.”

As an aspiring erotica/romance writer, it’s important to understand the difference between raw sex appeal and romance. Sex appeal is pretty basic. A woman with big breasts and a man with a big dick has inherent sex appeal. Those traits trigger the kind of basic, primal responses that made our cavemen ancestors horny.

Romance, on the other hand, goes beyond the mere primal. Romance requires a certain amount of thought, patience, and planning. Whether you’re a man or a woman, romance is the icing while the sex appeal is merely the sugar. Our willingness to be patient, thoughtful, and intimate goes a long way towards crafting that perfect dish, be it a dinner or desert.

“When you think about it, romantic gestures that cost money are down payments towards future orgasms.”

Economics and finance are rarely that sexy. That doesn’t mean they can’t influence our love lives. When you get down to the basics, romantic gestures are like emotional investments. Instead of interest, the payoff is love, intimacy, and hot sex. Even by Warren Buffet standards, that’s a pretty good return on investment.

That’s all for now. Hope this helps others recover from their St. Patrick’s Day festivities and/or reconcile with their liver. Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine. So long as it isn’t coupled with blackouts and dry-heaves, I like to think I’ve helped.

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