You never know what you’ll find underneath the Christmas tree. While it rarely turns out to be Mariah Carey cooing “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” sometimes it ends up being an old—even forgotten lover—sending holiday greetings, waxing nostalgic, or trying to rekindle a relationship that had long flatlined, complete with “Do Not Resuscitate” instructions.
An unexpected email from a ghost of Christmas flings past arrived recently, and I wondered if he was being kind or hopeful—or maybe both. Ironic, seeing as I spent the end of last year and the early part of this year effectively ghosting him. Yes, yes, I confess to occasionally behaving as badly as the fuckboys I’ve dated. But you know, distance, age, logistics, yadda, yadda, it wasn’t going to work anyway, so it’s best to just let those texts and emails evaporate into the ether of the cloud.
But his email, sweet as it was—though I must admit it had whiffs of “generic greeting to the women I’ve slept with before”—took me back to the time (albeit brief) of our liaison, compelling me to remember the real reason why I stopped seeing him, taking his calls, or replying to his texts: His ardor had gone from touchingly romantic to suffocatingly persistent rather quickly and the sex, well the sex wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t that great either. It was meh.
I’ve been married before. I know what meh sex is like and at this point in my life, I don’t settle, not even for meh sex.
But Mr. Meh got me thinking about the kinds of lovers out there. There are many kinds, of course, but I’ve picked out five.
The Olympic Contestant
He approaches sex like he’s training for the decathlon. Generally fit and athletic, he is intense but way too physical as he goes through the various events that conform to his own interpretation of decathlon, which may include, in no particular order: javelin, gymnastics, pole vaulting, fencing, synchronized swimming, 100-meter dash, among others.
Instead of feeling like you’ve cheered your pre-Caitlyn Bruce Jenner Olympic athlete to victory, you feel exhausted and rather bruised at having been poked, speared, thrown into the air, flipped on your back, then on to your front, your legs in the air, parted, then pinned together, then one raised, the other bent, and so on, while he grunts on in full concentration despite the fact that his movements are so ADHD. There are 10 events in a decathlon, so the principal thought running through your head is, “When is he ever going to come so this can be over?”
Of course, you’re too breathless when it’s over, and it’s not the exciting kind of breathless. The thing is, he believes he deserves a gold medal for his performance while you just want to disqualify him.
The Entitled Señorito
Oh, he’ll take you to nice places, and order the best wine. His sheets will be 300-thread count cotton at the very least, but once you lay on them, you’ll be doing all the work, baby. Which means he’ll want you on top, grinding against him while he just stays there, doing nothing, not even stroking your clit. He’ll do that, begrudgingly, if you ask him, but he’ll be too lazy to exert more than a few feeble flicks, thinking that’s enough to keep you going. You’ll have to wank him, too, as well as blow him. Forget him going down on you. This guy wants his cake but he won’t eat you.
Just make sure he wipes his own cum off you. At the very least.
The Ageing Playboy
He may cling to his glory days as a stallion, and if you’re lucky, he’s still the king of the jungle, able to last an impressively long time without summoning Viagra to the rescue.
Pretty much vanilla, though. Yet he knows what his hands, dick, and tongue can do. His moves in bed haven’t changed much, but his track record proves they work, so if it ain’t broke, you know… Plus, he makes sure he makes you come, since his reputation as a skilled lover depends on it.
However, don’t expect him to call the next day. Dude only calls when he wants to. Do it for the sex, maybe the conversation, but don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s relationship material—or that you can change him. Because honey, you can’t, and he’s usually not worth it.
The Young Stud
Also known as the Raging Bull or the Superhero, he’s smoking hot, always in the mood, hard in an instant, and able to go on and on and on for rounds two and three and four, maybe even five. Make sure there are enough condoms on hand.
He can be adventurous and inventive, after all, sex for him is about mutual pleasure, but he’s not going to do anything you’re not into, or don’t feel quite ready for. And if there’s anything a bit out there you want to try, he’ll probably be game for it; he’s eager to learn and do anything to make you not only come, but come back for more. And he won’t judge you.
Plus, he can also be quite a sensitive soul, in for a bit of a cuddle after sex, and, oh my God, he listens, which sometimes makes you wonder if he moonlights as a gigolo even though you’re certainly not paying him.
Damn, if he only he had a brain.
To paraphrase that smooth R&B band The Chi-lites, “Have you seen him? Tell me have you seen him?”
The Unicorn is the Perfect Lover. According to Askmen.com, he possesses “the perfect amount of passivity, aggression, passion, speed, rhythm, and feeling that would make any woman’s toes curl.”
He also doesn’t exist.
But that doesn’t stop me from asking Santa to send him to me this Christmas.
B. Wiser is the author of Making Love in Spanish, a novel published earlier this year by Anvil Publishing and available in National Book Store and Powerbooks, as well as online. When not assuming her Sasha Fierce alter-ego, she takes on the role of serious journalist and media consultant.
For comments and questions, e-mail [email protected].
Art by Dorothy Guya