Thursday, 22 December 2011

The world isn't allowed to end until I get to have geriatric sex and feel someone up half my age without abusing a child.

So if the world is to end on the 21st of December 2012 (taking apocalypse to signify the more popular four horsemen interpretation rather than a major change as it is apparently supposed to mean), then we all have less than 12 months to live. I pointed this out to a friend the other day and got told off for being 'morbid'. I'm just really glad I never decided to discuss the finer points of the ethics of necrophilia with him. Although it may have been an idea to raise this with him at some point. He's the ex-boyfriend of a friend that I no longer associate with since I witnessed her doing something illegal (whilst doing many more immoral things), and now I am having to be a witness for the crown when she's taken to court (despite not being a fan of the Queen beyond her contribution to the economy via tourism). He has also confessed to having downloaded pictures of (a fully-clothed) me from Facebook to wank over. Recently he told me that he's been planning on asking me out if he ever sees me when I'm sober/not getting over a break-up, but I told him that was weird. Especially since his ex used to share details of their bedroom antics with me. However if he was open to discussing necrophilia in bed, perhaps I could have just accepted that my life is weird and I should just get over it.

As a 20-something student, everything I do is aimed at setting myself up for the future. Just like a German student I was speaking to on the train yesterday, my time is spent working on my Masters, doing my volunteering work, arranging work placements, and working to make sure I can eat, train and socialise in the more immediate future. So essentially if the Mayans did have the biggest crystal ball in the world, I may get to enjoy the fruits of my labour for 2 months, assuming that the PhD funding plan falls through and someone gives me a dream job as soon as I finish my dissertation.

But I really enjoy my Masters course, and all of my voluntary work, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. So even if I do die at the end of it it's completely worth it. However, today I realised that I was out on my grandmother's age by a few years and she's already passed the 75 mark, and considering the conversations I've been having about my grandmother and in which ways I would like to take after her in my old age over the past few weeks, it seems appropriate to write about those here in case I do live to see if I turn out like her in the ways that I'd like to (and get to bypass the bits that I don't want).

When I was growing up, my grandmother was always the horny old lady that flirts with any guy over the age of 18 and more than 10 years younger than whatever she was at the time. She was still saying 'If I were 20 years younger' after she hit 60 and would need to take about double that off. One time she took us swimming and broke her goggles. I saw her holding them and put them back together for her, and after I handed them back to her, she pulled them apart again and called the lifeguard over to help her. She'd pulled her goggles apart to use them as a Barney-Stinson-style prop in creating a flirting opportunity. This is how my grandmother has always been. She's never slept with anyone other than my grandfather, but she has really enjoyed herself since she reached the age that it's socially acceptable for her to openly appreciate the looks of men less than half her age. Whilst still having a fairly full sex life with my grandfather, which I was unfortunate enough to witness once.

That's how I want to be if I ever get to be old old, I want to still have my libido fully intact and be rutting with my husband like a teenager. Although when she found out that my grandfather had been cheating on her for over a decade with someone younger than both my father and my aunt, she divorced him, sued him for everything she could get, and essentially threw the biggest woman-scorned hissy fit possible without involving pickled penises in jars. All in her late 60s. Unfortunately many of my family took my grandfather's side, but although I loved my grandfather (and still do since his death. Despite also witnessing him enjoying the company of his mistress following the divorce. The man just didn't understand the concept of locks or using rooms that your grandkids don't walk into on a regular basis in the first place.) I greatly admire my grandmother for having the guts to do that despite the fact that everyone told her that it was a waste of money considering her age. She had enough self-respect to stand up for herself and not take the injustice as 'something that happens'. Men don't have the right to treat women like that, no matter what generation they are from, or how old they are. Being past the age of reproduction doesn't mean that you have no reason to get out of a relationship with someone who has less than 100% respect for you as a person.

My father has never been faithful to any woman. He's told me this himself, with the exception that he claimed to have been faithful to my mother. However since then I've met two women who had affairs with him since I was born and before my mother died. (One of those later became my grandfather's mistress. The bad thing is after she told me my immediate thought was 'that was an upgrade, my grandfather's penis is much bigger than my father's'. None of the men in my family seem to understand the concept of having sex/wanking in non-communal rooms when you have kids in the house.) My father also dated some of the strongest, most intelligent, most confident women I've ever met, and turned them into self-conscious shells of their former selves. He spoke to them the same way he spoke to me. Calling me thick (despite an IQ of 164 and the fact that I've been helping him do his paperwork since his divorce from my ex-stepmother when I was 12), fat, and unattractive. As I am a klutz that's prone to injuries, and have a chest illness that flares up from time to time, my weight yo-yos frequently depending on how much exercise I'm getting at the time. In my teens if I put on a bit of weight to be a size 12-14 (US 8-10) then I was too fat. If I lost a little to be a 10-12 (6-8 US), then he'd threaten to force-feed me faggots if I became anorexic, but still tell me that I needed to tone up. I constantly had to 'get my fat arse out of the way', and everything I wore showed off my fat legs/stomach/arse. Even if I was in a 10-12 stage, so these would be interspersed with threats of force-feeding if I lost any more weight.

My grandmother ignored the reactions of my family (as best she could, for a while it looked like she would stay with my grandfather despite his long-term deception). Ignored the 'fact' that infidelity is just something men do. Ignored the attitude that women are no longer worth anything once they're 'too old to find someone else anyway', or that age, size, attractiveness and the ability to get a man are the only things that give a woman worth. She decided that she was worth respect, and refused to waste her time with someone who didn't give her that. Paul was the only boyfriend that I've ever had, but I made it clear to him early on that if he lost interest in me he was to tell me, because I'd hate to have to dismember him for cheating on me. And my father told me all of the tricks he used to hide his infidelity from women and 'keep them in their place', so if I ever find my partner smells of Ralgex (good for covering the smell of another woman's perfume on yourself and the bedclothes, with the added bonus of making it easy to get sympathy and having her run around looking after you for cheating on her) then his penis is getting pickled, and it's only fair to give them a warning. I also told Paul that I intend on being an extremely horny 80 year old. The mental image that may have given him should be added to the reasons why I'm single again. I wonder what 80-year-old me looks like naked in his head.

All of the females I've spoken to about this agree with me. They want to be tying their husbands to the headboard until they kick the bucket. Hopefully they won't kick the bucket during since that would be something to explain to the paramedics/coroner. And now I want to know if any little old ladies have ever been investigated by the police after their geriatric husbands died of natural causes during a bondage session. If it was a handcuffed-to-the-radiator-with-a-ball-gag-in-the-mouth job then you'd probably have to do some re-arranging before calling anyone.

Back on topic...The one guy other than Paul that I've discussed this with surprised me, (as a male perspective, not as his perspective. He's not someone I call when I need advice on men since he doesn't think like most of them.) if he outlives his partner, he wants his libido to die with them. And I'm the one that gets called morbid. I wasn't the one to bring death into this particular conversation about sex. In fact I never do in actual conversations; I save my more disturbing crazy for myself, and now this blog. But then again it's different for a guy. I've accepted drinks off of old men when already drunk, but when an old man starts trying to cop a feel (in the street or the pub), it's a lot scarier than when a guy your age does it as you have more reservations about slapping them or hitting them in the balls in case you end up having to call an ambulance. So perhaps it is best that only my female friends want to be randy when they're older, since my male friends at worst go a little red when a little old dear flirts with them or cops a quick feel, but they still find it funny, not scary. That's the kind of sexism I can get on board with.

No comments:

Post a Comment