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 sing the body eclectic. I marvel at the poignancy of a mercy fuck on the living-room couch. I amaze at the doggy-style extravaganza in the bathroom of a 757. I blush at the latest Kama Sutra position, the Begging Yoni.
Sex is a circus with a cute ringleader, a virtual Chinese restaurant of choices: fellatio from column A, felching from column B.
Sex is a brunch buffet of penetration positions, the better for us to give each other pleasure.
Well, I kind of feel this way. Sort of. Okay, if you must know, I don't feel this way at all. I'm just trying to be all worldly and dirty-talking.
In fact, I like my sex simple and basic. I like my sex tedious. I know it's my God-given right to perform every exotic form of intercourse extant, but I can't help it, I'm sold on the missionary position. Let society's leading perverts sneer, I believe that the missionary position is the way to human truth and beauty. People have a need to meet each other head on.
"Oh come off it, Miss Dull," said my friend Cleo, "What's wrong with your legs thrown over his shoulders? It can be a little hard on the hamstrings, true, but it's a lovely angle of penetration.
"That's the missionary position," I told her.
"Only technically," she said.
"Technically nothing. He's on top of you and you're looking at each other. Unless he is very short."
"Okay then, how about your alleged favorite, him walking and holding you aloft by your ass?" she asked.
First of all, that's just a vertical missionary position. Secondly, that's a fantasy.  In reality, he would drop me on that self-same ass. Unless he were Jack Nicholson," I said. "So what's your favorite position, Miss Modern?"
"You know I only like it up the butt."
"Ha ha ha."
"Well, I don't know," she said. "Just not the missionary position. I hate it when you're pinned under him and you cannot breathe, like a beached lox. I guess I like to be taken from behind. Then you can pretend he's anyone. And he can spank you while fucking you. He can hold onto your waist and get really carried away. Yum."
"I like it when he pins your arms over your head like a pirate ravishing you," I said. "I like when you're lying quietly under him with your legs closed tightly but you're still doing it. I love the looking at each other."
"If you're looking at each other, how can you play coat-check girl and John Cusack?"
"I just close my eyes. Oh, hello, darling." My significant boyfriend had wandered in. "Cleo likes it from behind; I like it in the missionary position. Which one of us do you want to fuck?"
"Oh, like I'm gonna fall for that one," he said blandly. "You, of course. You're the only woman in the world I have ever wanted."
"So you like the missionary position?" I asked.
"The missionary position is a tough workhorse of a position," he said. "It's the easiest position to come in. You can get a lot of purchase. You can get good traction with your feet and leverage yourself nicely. "
"It's our position," I said proudly.
"Except for the work," he said. "I have to do all the work . . ."
"What do you mean? I wiggle my hips and everything!"
"Darling, you're very welcoming," he said kindly.
"Are you saying I just lie there?"
"Not exactly. Some girls do more work than others."
"Which girls?" I demanded to know.
"Whoops, I think I hear my mother calling," said Cleo, "See ya." And she disappeared.
I stared at him.
"You're not scaring me," he said.
I kept staring.
"Really," he said, "the work is not so much what the girl does, it's more that you have to hold yourself up. It can be exhausting."
"Take me now," I said.
"I'm not taking you now," he said. "This is not real, this is not me, this is an article you're writing using a facsimile of me."
"That means I can make you do anything," I said, and I jumped him.
We ripped off each other's clothes. We positioned ourselves missionarily.
His front was touching my front. His eyes were looking into my eyes. His feet were on my feet. We were communing. We were fitting into each other. The missionary position, the true intimacy.
And then it was over. And I was left alone, staring at this page.
n°
©2002 Cynthia Heimel and Nerve.com, Inc.
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Cynthia Heimel is the author of the groundbreaking essay collection Sex Tips for Girls, its sequel, Advanced Sex Tips for Girls, the play A Girl's Guide to Chaos, and six other books, including If You Can't Live Without Me, Why Aren't You Dead Yet? and Get Your Tongue Out of My Mouth, I'm Kissing You Goodbye. She has written regular columns for The Village Voice and Playboy. She lives in California.
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Underachiever by Cynthia Heimel
The author of Sex Tips for Girls has a confession to make: she likes her sex tedious.
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