Make-up Sex

(Part 15 out of 30 in a series on sexuality.)

Where am I supposed to go from here?

Let’s see…

I recall in my relationship, with the first woman I ever had sexual intercourse with.

We were together for about a year. We were miserable in the worst ways.

But we were freaky in bed, and it somehow made up for a lot.

Make-up sex was the best.

We’d go straight from fighting to making out hard. Where’d our clothes go? Oh yeah, wow, and now we’re fuckin’ like rabid rabbits.

A band-aid for our dysfunctional relationship.

One time I was home on just some half-hour break from work.

And she was pissed at me about something.

We worked it out with powerful thrusts.

I was back to work with three minutes to spare.

All smiling.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” my co-worker asked.

“Hehehehe,” I replied.

Back then was when I realized that sometimes, sex can change an entire mood around.

It’s an anti-depressant and anti-anxiety meds in one.

Brain chemicals.

Everything is chemicals. Releasing, swimming, and absorbing.

Just like semen. Releasing. Swimming. Absorbing.

Is the palate cleansed yet?

I don’t know.

But I do know that band-aids aren’t enough to hold together an amputated limb. Or a knife through the heart.

Good sex is a side effect of love and respect.

Illusions of love and respect can sometimes be a side effect of raw, good sex.

But it’s just the feel-good chemicals talking, sometimes.

Start with the love and respect, then transfer that from you into someone else’s life in the bedroom (or wherever you feel like doing it, as long as it’s consensual all around), and you’re onto something real.


Also published on Medium.