Let's get drunk and screw.
You know what's great? Hot sex. On this, I think we can all agree.
Two (or more) people get together, give their enthusiastic consent, whip off their clothes, stimulate each other's genitals, and in an ideal world, there are orgasms for everyone.
The only way sex could be more fun is if you had a robot that discreetly wheeled a tray of ice cold water and delicious snacks into the room after you were done.
But alas, we are not in The Jetsons, and are left to retrieve our own post-sex snacks.
In porn you see buff men and thin women, regular hardbodies the lot of them, going at it energetically, barely breaking a sweat. It's the sexiest kind of aerobic activity there is, and if you know how to do it right, sex can be a beautiful dance.
But that's not the kind of sex I love the most.
I love sex that's a bit, well, sloppy. I love sex when I've had a round of scotch and my head is floating.
I love sex when my boyfriend and I bump teeth in the dark and dissolve into giggles. I love the kind of sex that you wake up from the next morning and wonder where the hell your bra is.
Tipsy or drunk sex is the best kind of sex there is, and I defy anyone to tell me anything differently.
I'm not saying you should be having blackout drunk sex.
For one thing, consent in sex is fundamental. If you're inebriated enough that you don't know your own name, you aren't able to consent. That means no sex, even if you want it. And that, my friends, is a major bummer. But obviously rape is a much bigger bummer.
Also, drinking to excess probably means you'll get hit with a nasty hangover and I think we can all agree that hangovers are proof that the devil is real and that he hates all of us.
But when you go out for a night on the town with your sweetie and you have more than one glass of wine (because it isn't a school night), and you get giddy and silly and feel super uninhibited and wind up making out in the bar's bathroom like a couple of naughty twenty-somethings it can feel goddamn electric.
But all sex doesn't have to be about having an orgasm, hell, all sex doesn't have to even be about penile penetration.
Fingers are magical, and mouths are damn near wizards when it comes to performing sexual acts on one another. So a case of whiskey dick isn't always the worse scenario.
I think when we have drunk sex we are less worried about trying to replicate how we think sex should be, and we allow ourselves to revel in each other's bodies in a totally authentic way.
So he can't stay hard. The world isn't going to end. You're still going to laugh and wrestle and spoon and talk and connect on the deepest possible level.
Sure, athletic, hard-body sex where you hit all the right buttons and go for hours is awesome, but it isn't all there is.
Sleepy, tipsy, full-tummy sex isn't about orgasm, it's about love and fondness and connection.
It's about wanting to share skin with your best friend, and frankly, it doesn't get any better than that as far as I am concerned.