Performance anxiety, whether at school on stage or especially in the bedroom, is something that plagues most of us. Most of us won’t admit it but it does. Being the over-achieving, high-functioning, consistently perfect, step-ford wives in training (a.k.a Republicans) and save the world one picket at a time or (more likely) arm-chair activists (a.k.a bleeding heart liberals) that we are, it would go against our perfect smith college woman ideal that we are nurtured to be, to admit any kind of insecurity (how dare you call me weak, it’s because I’m a woman isn’t it?), anxiety or slight defect of character (Lo and behold somebody finds out I am not superhuman). All that talk about being perfect in our imperfections is for other people, other people who are actually incapable of being flawless (those lesser beings), we on the other hand can dream the impossible dream and attain it, mind you. Why? Because we’re Smith College women that’s how we roll. There is nothing we can’t do so performance anxiety is not something we can understand.
A conversation we (by we, I mean those pseudonymed people - whose real identities you’re not sure of but have been trying to figure out - whom I write about in every blog) had ,sometime last week – I think it was last week I’m not really sure [ Let’s just say we had a conversation sometime, somewhere and there were people involved because my concept of time and date has completely left the building, like God after midnight at Washburn] – revolved around that little blue helper we like to call Viagra. Ew, you protest, Viagra is for old people; and by old people I mean your parents and grandparents...thank me for that image later.=) Why would perfectly virile, young and gorgeous (don’t hate the playa hate the genes =) women be talking about Viagra? Well a) we’re unpredictable like that, just when you think you know us…we pull a Kansas city shuffle on you b) Dr. Hannibal Lecter joined the midnight circle and knowing her sexually deviant ways I guess you shouldn’t be too surprised and c) Because none of us had ever tried it and we being the inquisitive and intelligent minds that we are (we have a thirst for knowledge no matter how insignificant that knowledge may be to us at this age) , we wanted to know how it would affect us. (We’d make great lab rats by the way).
The player’s in that particular conversation were oddly vulgar (one of our blog virgins, I feel so honored that she chose us to pop her cherry), Dr. Hannibal Lecter (who I mentioned earlier walked in while we were having a perfectly normal conversation and had to turn it into some sick, twisted sexual excursion), Trippin’ on some shit (who is always up to try any pill, powder or liquid that might slightly alter her state of mind or body…she lives the life of a rockstar but without the guitar), If you seek Amy (who had migrated to the other room in hopes of getting away from the gaggle of geese sitting next to her because for some unknown reason she seems to think that homework is far more important than wasting time doing nothing…I feel like I don’t even know her anymore) and your ever gracious voyeur into the world of washburn crazy, Self-proclaimed Legend.
Oddly Vulgar: I am having performance anxiety about being on this blog. (Somebody should mention to her that we do not mention such things in public)
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: There’s a cure for that…VIAGRA. (Why? Why did you have to make me think about old people sex!! God damit I’m going to need to wash my extremely visual mind out with acid now.)
Trippin’ on some shit: What happens if you’re a woman and you take Viagra? (The inquiring minds begin engaging. Lock, load and shoot. BTW that pun was completely intended, well-thought out and beautifully placed. Sometimes my genius scares me!)
If you seek Amy: It makes your clitoris really large. (Nobody heard what she said because she was sitting a little too far away from us. Lesson to the wise: You can try and avoid the crazy, but the crazy will suck you in.)
Self-proclaimed Legend: You probably get really horny. I’d do that. (Ofcourse I would…have you met me and my sexual frustration?)
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: Aren’t you guys already horny? (Do we really talk about it that much? This is bordering on desperation!)
Self-proclaimed Legend: Well I’d wait until I get a man, then take it, get really horny and it would last like five hours. (Tantric sex here I come…budumcha)
Oddly Vulgar: I heard that it makes you really weirdly tingly down there. (Like the responsible one among us who doesn’t jump on every pill just to try it out she tried to warn us about the side effects)
Self-proclaimed Legend: I’m all for that shit. It’s like a vibrator. (What an astute observation…viagra is exactly like a vibrator???? )
Oddly vulgar: No it’s a weird tingle. (Quite frankly as long as there is some action done there, weird or not, I’m all for it. My vagina is not happy with me at the moment!!)
Self-proclaimed Legend: Wait a minute what did you say happens If you seek Amy? (I told you, you can’t run away from the crazy…no matter how hard you try it will hunt you down.)
If you seek Amy: I said it makes your clitoris really large.
Self-proclaimed Legend: What happens when your clitoris gets large? Does it mean bigger penis’s can fit in it. (ooh la la, somebody find me a large black man =)
Trippin’ on some shit: It means that if you touch it would feel like this….(Insert: orgasm face).
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: It’s an erectile. It has erectile tissue in it so it would get aroused. (Side note: She’s calling vaginal tissue “it”, too many of us have become influenced by the drug tank podcast.)
Trippin' on some shit: You’ll have a vagoner.
Hilarity ensues. We can always rely on Trippin’ on some shit to pull out a trump card one-liner.
This conversation, like the Vagina Monologues, was all about female empowerment, but to be more specific vagina empowerment. If men can get a boner, we can get a vagoner! Didn’t I say there is nothing we can’t do? For those who do suffer from performance anxiety, especially in the bedroom (Again smithies this does not apply to you BUT we can sympathize), sneak into your grandparents medicine cabinet one day, steal a couple of little blue helpers (they probably won’t notice because old age makes you forget things, including how much sex you’ve had) and pop away. Not on your own of course that would make you something akin to an alcoholic (drinking/popping alone = the first signs of a problem) BUT with a loved one or a complete stranger (whatever rocks your boat. No judgment here…we understand) and have the time of your life. Locked, loaded and shooting all night long. If the effects are less than desired e.g. ending up in hospital with a vagoner that lasts longer than 4 hours or worse yet in a coma just know… I didn’t say shit! That would be my official statement and this blog cannot be used as evidence against me. If the effects are orgasmic then do tell, details are very important too, we have no boundaries and no understanding of the acronym TMI. Why don’t you try it you ask? Slow down crazy, slow down…I would never be that reckless with my life but I have no qualms being reckless with yours.
So goodnight, good luck and remember age restrictions aren’t there to protect us they are only there to stop us from having fun…don’t let the man stop you from having fun.
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