This goes out to all the folks in the free world that have roommates. Roommates that have a lot of sex. Loud sex. Five alarm fire sex. Violating city noise ordinance codes sex. Explosive, bed-breaking, earth-shaking, Godzilla does Gamera sex. In short, sex I wish I were having more often.
Now this all started when, and I will change the names to protect the innocent, “Bob” started dating “Carol,” his current love interest, about a year ago. Right around the same time that my last relationship was on, to say the least, a downward swing. I have since moved from the bedroom adjacent to the constant ruckus, to the room down the hall. It was actually kind of funny to be sitting with Sue during the final stages of our relationship’s demise, and have those two in the next room literally knocking the wall into our bed.
“So, uh..wanna play some cards?”
BANG, GUNSH, BANG.
CRASH, BLAM, “OH GOD,” BANG, BANG.
“I think I have some cards around here somewhere…”
“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD…” “URRRAAAAGGHH UUHGH,”CRASH, BANG, WHOOMPF.
Back then I kept expecting someone’s head to eventually fly through the wall and end up in my lap.
“We’re watching nature programs and playing battleship, what were you guys doing?”
“Well it certainly sounded like fun, remember when we used to do that honey?”
“Sweetie, why are you packing, are we going on a trip?”
It was even more difficult at four in the morning when I was alone and trying to get some sleep. You see, Carol, in the throes of passion, sounds exactly like she is singing a song out of The Sound Of Music, with a sort of repetitive building crescendo. Only it takes her a real long fucking time to finish the song. I’d be lying in bed and all of a sudden:
“Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti..”
And then it would stop. I’d roll over and put one of my pillows over my head. Sure enough only seconds later…
“Do, Re, Me, Fa, So, La, Ti……..”
Again and again, over and over for what seemed like hours on end.
“Do, Re, ME, FAA, SOOO, LAAA, TIIIIII……..nothing…”
Finally it was more than I could bear. I felt like screaming “Make her ‘DO’ already! The answer is ‘DO’! Everyone needs to ‘DO’! For the love of God what are you stopping for? Get in there Bob and finish the fucking job!!! The end of the fucking song is DOOOOOO!!”
Finally, in a dual explosion that I’m sure can be heard anywhere within a four mile radius, they finish. Whew. Thank God.
Sometimes, when I listen real close, I can hear a smattering of applause from around the neighborhood. Seriously, when I was a kid I heard more screaming out of a street dog that had managed to get his nuts entangled in a barbed-wire fence. These two are so gloriously loud that whenever they are fucking, I pray for all of my dreams to come true. I have a sneaking suspicion that all eyes in the heavens must inevitably be turned to see what unearthly racket is going on down here.
As I’ve said before, it is a little embarrassing that when my roommate comes he sounds like he just came up with a new law of physics, and when I come lately it’s like I just put on a warm pair of socks. Not that it has always been that way, but I can’t even remember the last time I was really interested in having sex with someone.
Which all leads into my “Sex is better when its dirty” theory. Since I have accepted sex as being wholesome, clean, and entirely appropriate in just about every way, I’ve lost that “this is dirty, Eric is being a bad boy,” thing. That’s why Catholic school girls rock. Sure fundamentalist Christians and Catholics have views that suck, but get them into bed and they turn all of that repressed sexual energy into a cataclysmic shit-storm of fucking.
So, as with all of my problems, I blame my father. I blame him for letting my stepbrother and I at the age of thirteen have all night keg parties, and girls spending the night with us in the coach house. Sure we were popular then, smoking joints and sticking our hairless crotches into the hands of our wide-eyed, prepubescent, flat-chested neighbors, but now I have no solid “sex is dirty” base to build off of. Everything for which most children would get disowned, we got a pat on the back for, and full parental blessing. Ain’t it neat how I found a way to bitch about being allowed to drink, smoke and fornicate in my early teens?