Man, I sure do love Thanksgiving – the food, the kin, the whole shebang. But if this holiday doesn’t highlight America’s ability to warp tradition, I don’t know what does. One year at the dinner table, I asked my mother what the correlation was between the first Thanksgiving and the giant Macy’s commercial that marches across the streets of New York each year. She told me to shush while Grandma gave thanks for her new 50-inch plasma.
I don’t mind our tendency to reinterpret the spirit of thanks. If we have to stroke our consumer tendencies to keep our grateful juices flowing, then in the name of Squanto, we shall stroke away. But there is one century-sweeping tradition – no doubt a fave among those boot-knocking pilgrims – that I sincerely mourn the loss of. No matter the mood, setting, or fuck-me-like-you-mean-it pizzazz, these days it’s written off as mundane, uncreative and vanilla. It’s often a transition, but rarely a destination. And I do not approve.
What ever happened to missionary position?
It’s united more cultures than corn on the cob. It conceived our parents, forefathers, and I’m willing to bet Adam used it to get jiggy with Eve. Long before slings and swings and harnesses enabled us to fuck from angles even geometry fails to recognize, missionary ruled supreme. I can’t think of anything more worthy of its own holiday and a 40-percent-off sale at Payless.
Don’t get me wrong; when it comes to sexual positions, I’m as progressive as they come. If it were possible to have sex hanging from the ceiling, I’d be first in line with my suction-cup shoes. But at the risk of sounding, well, un-risky, I must admit, I often crave the horizontal hokey pokey. Sure, sometimes it’s out of pure laziness – a pound of turkey and stuffing can really kill the backwards cowgirl – but more often than not, I just plain dig it.
When lent mutual fervency and commitment, missionary can produce some powerful stuff. For me, there’s nothing more electrifying than being belly-to-belly, chest-to-chest and face-to-face with a partner. Their breath on your face can fire up an already heated moment. The ability to lock eyes, especially during climax, makes for maximum intensity. And the best part? Witnessing every facial expression, from the first pump to the very last.
The missionary position is often thought to be named for its male superiority. Back in the day, Christian missionaries deemed man-on-top the only appropriate way to have intercourse. This, of course, is where a little modern adaptation comes in. Missionary can also be anything but male dominant. The reason I love it so much is that the guy and gal can both exert control over thrusting power. With a girl’s hands and legs free, she can grab, squeeze, push and wrap around his thrusting mechanism (a.k.a. bootay) to suit her every scream-inducing need.
And who ever limited legs to dangling freely? Why not give his junk some extra snuggle by squeezing your legs between his? Why not pull them up to your chest? Why not throw them over his shoulder like a continental soldier?
Legs can also act as pressure regulators. For less pressure, obstruct his force by putting your thighs between your two bodies; for more, spread them wide and let him go to town. Missionary can achieve many of the same pleasure points as all those fancier positions – it just takes a bit of twisting, tweaking and teamwork.
But regardless of its many variations, the real beauty of missionary is its come-as-you-are nature. Sometimes sex isn’t about showcasing your ability to do the headstand splits while licking your own elbow. And as awesome as you think it is, sometimes it’s not all that impressive that you can go down on yourself. There are times when sex is simply about two people truly enjoying each other’s company. Isn’t that what Thanksgiving’s really about, after all?
So this holiday weekend, grab a fuck bud you really enjoy, not for their impressive package, but – gasp! – their personality, and get your vanilla on. Who knows, you may learn some really kinky shit about your partner… like the color of their eyes.