Psychotherapy during sex?
At a party where a heavier woman is drinking tequila with me (in college, all of about 129 lbs at the time and a high metabolism, so I have no tolerance), not only is she trying to get me to keep up with her, everytime I pass the vodka-soaked watermelon, I take a handful. Hey, you do things like that in college.

Eventually she decides we're going to go into the host's bedroom and drags me in for a command performance. I'm having trouble staying up -- not in the sense of Mr. Happy's duties, as he is doing his job as enthusiastically as a 21-year-old's stiffy would, but in maintaining a vertical position whilst I am on top of her. I'm lucky if I could find the floor if I fell, much less climb on top of her. So I suggest she take the top.

I don't mind that she declined as she was a bit wasted, too, but she goes into this self-esteem spiel: "No, you should always be on top, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. That's where you belong. . . " and so on. And on. And on. She just kept rambling non-stop for what seemed like five minutes when all I wanted to do was be lazy before I passed out. And her voice became more irritating, too.

Thankfully, the host got mad (his sister was driving the woman home) and burst into the room briefly to tell us to break it up. I was glad -- I was sick of listening to her touchy-feely shit when all I wanted was to let her take over the work.

Host let me crash the night, and when I got home in the morning, my stepfather was sitting on the steps when I went from my car to the door. It was the first time I stayed out all night while at home, and I thought I was grounded for the summer, but he looked up and smiled and asked, "so, did you get lucky"?

"Lucky" is a relative term.
(ChiTown Guy Dating when 35+: sane, single, attractive - pick 2, Wed 20 Jun 2007, 11:56, Reply)