As the Level of Madness goes up on the X axis, there is a direct correlation to Goodness of Bone on the Y axis.
For the ladies at least, once you’ve had a good one in you, there’s some kind of physical science (more than just post-coital endorphins) that makes you absolutely batshit crazy. This is the same science that makes us neglect nice guys and good conversationalists in lieu of brooding musicians that throw you back up against the wall, bite you so hard you cry out, before bending you over and giving you just the right pace on the forward thrust.
These guys, the ones that know what they are doing (forget that a–they know what they are doing because they’re doing it to you and the six other girls they’re also dating and b–they don’t really know how to do much else), have kryptonite cocks. That’s right; they’ll make the strongest, most rational amongst us melt into blubbery, needy messes.
“Why hasn’t he called?” You’ll shout at no one in particular, repeatedly. When he finally does call, 10 days later, you’ll Speedy Gonzalez to his side, erasing the last week of chain smoking, wine drinking, and moaning to your friends about how he left you high and dry. And that’s just independent, rationally minded chicks–you’re completely fucked if you’re already a hyper emotional, anxious person.
I’ve had girlfriends come to me (and by “girlfriends” I mean mostly me), red eyed and shrill after only a brief tryst with a guy, panicking over his lack of contact,making excuses about his mother visiting, or his being busy at work. My first question is always, “How was the sex?” and the answer is always the same, “Phenomenal.” Guys–that’s how you make a girl you would normally have nothing in common with become a Slave 4 U. Girls–that’s why you feel like you’ve gone up the wall mental even though you don’t even know the dude’s last name or what his job is (or if he even has a last name or a job, for that matter).
The transformative power of a good bone on a woman creates a formidable bond–before there’s even been a chance for a true emotional or intellectual connection to form–that is, in most respects, far more powerful and devastating than an emotional or intellectual connection. Think of emotional/intellectual bonding as a slow moving but reliable tide; a good bone is a tsunami.
Once you’ve had a good one in you, you’re willing to overlook just about anything else about the guy–even the smell of dead animal that hangs like an immovable, primordial fog in his bedroom–just to get that bone in you again. We already know that sex is a weapon of mass destruction, but it’s rarely acknowledged that the awesome power of the mind-fuck fuck is, occasionally, in the hands of a very undeserving dude, who will, occasionally, abuse that power.
Ladies, there are two things we can do. The first is we can succumb to that sweet, sweet lovemaking that leaves us shaking like leaves in the fall, and just endure our lumps–the hurricane of borderline insanity that follows–accepting fully that “dignified” is no longer a word that could be used to describe us. Or–Yes! Or!–we can learn to wield our vibrators with such dexterous proficiency that next time we’re tempted to lose our minds over Mr. Unreliable Super Sex we can just brandish them and wildly declare, “Huzzah! Anything you can do, I can do better, fool!”