Sex Tips for Boring People: Butt Stuff, Lube, and Condoms
Sex Tips for Boring People will take your sex life from vanilla to passion fruit. Or at least from vanilla to vanilla bean. Find more sexy advice right here.
It’s not easy to be amazing at sex. I mean, I’m sure YOU are, but I’m speaking to the rest of those amateurs out there. It’s easy to not be completely awful, though, which, really, is all we ask -- because faking it is exhausting.
I’m sure YOU don’t need any tips on sex because you’ve seen porn and maybe even have two positions in your repertoire. But just to be safe, Sex Tips for Boring People is here to help you be a little better in the sack. Just in case.
“When is the least awkward time to introduce lube into the equation?”
Unfortunately there really isn’t a great time to say, “please stop immediately, as what you’re doing is exceedingly painful.” But for the sake of the rest of your naked encounter, or the possibility of ever hooking up with this person again, sometimes it really does need to be said. It’s not that anyone is necessarily doing anything wrong. Sometimes this is just how it works.
We can all agree that sex is so much better without a condom (like, so much). But not using them is just plain stupid (like, so stupid). And no matter the amount of ribbedness or pre-lubiness, they tend to get dry, which feels less than awesome for everyone. Then it all deteriorates into one big uncomfortable, arid disaster. While lube has gotten an unfairly bad reputation, as it somehow signals that one of you is deficient, lube can be your best friend. The best time to use it is really as soon as things start to feel less than good. Leaving it near your bedside greatly diminishes the awkward period of silence as you stop, apply, and resume, which can leave a gaping window of time for, “um... is everything okay?” You can even make a preemptive strike and put lube on immediately, which means you won’t have to stop in the middle of anything.
But hopefully you’re both adult enough to acknowledge that sometimes this happens and that it’s better to nip it in the bud than endure another painful 20 minutes of contorted face-making when the other isn’t looking just to spare someone’s feelings.
“Is there a way to make the time between opening a condom and getting it in less awkward?”
This might be one of the worst moments. Of all time. After the obligatory foreplay that usually involves your fumbling of a bra clasp and a half-assed attempt on her part to touch it (women aren’t good at hand jobs, period), you’re both ready for the real deal. You reach for the condom and open it. The room gets... unnaturally quiet. Your face is scrunched in concentration and she’s just lying there, wondering where to look. We can’t look AT you. That seems rude and packs on the pressure. So we usually just look around the room, adjust the sheets, subtly reposition our bodies into the next alluring pose. Meanwhile you’re botching the whole situation as you put it on backwards, drop it on the bed and pat around for it, think you’re putting it on backwards but actually you had it right the first time -- until you finally nail it. At which point, several painfully silent minutes have passed.
Here’s what you can do: practice. Not being good with a condom says either you don’t really use them or that you don’t have a lot of sex, neither of which does wonders for your budding reputation as a (responsible) sexual stallion. But there’s something weirdly sexy about a man who can pull off the chore without missing a beat. Learn how to do it one-handed, leaving your second hand free for... other things. Bonus points if you can do it WHILE we’re making out. But until the day when you become a black belt in condom application, playing music helps to cut the awkward silence and the sound of slippery rubber unfurling.
“So... butt stuff?”
When it comes to butt stuff, you don’t need to send us a formal letter on personalized stationary, but you definitely do need to ask. It’s hard to know if initiating butt stuff is going to get you a green light or will cause your evening to end abruptly with an awkward silence as you try to explain what the hell you were just doing. We either love it or hate it. There’s just no middle ground with this one. Sorry.
Meagan Drillinger is a freelance writer for Thrillist. She likes to tell jokes during the condom silence period to kill the tension. Follow her on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook at @drillinjourneys.