Horny

Among the items that remain in my life from my Ex is an amusing anecdote of his that still amuses. He once recalled seeing a porn movie that featured hunky blond stud hiking in the desert. Stud climbs a mesa and there beholds nature in all her glory. Stud begins stroking his dick through his jeans and says, "That sunset is making me horny."

And the thing is, I get that. Horniness comes upon you. It just sort of steals up and jumps on your back, and Wham-O!, you're horny. And your left wondering what the inciting force was.

Was it the sunset?
Was it the avocado dip?
Was it your deceased Aunt Margaret's birthday the other day?
Was it the realization that there's no way that you can pay your rent next month?
Was it the anxiety dream you had about a high school science mid-term you hadn't studied for?
Was it the GMSMA Board Retreat?
Was it the CHiPs marathon on cable you stumbled upon while channel surfing?

Was it all of these combined? Or something else altogether?
What was it that got those synapses firing in the pattern that engenders that burning in the loins... that strong desire to get your kitten punched or to punch kittens in turn?

The qualities of horny are not strained, but droppeth from heaven like the dew.

Anyway, whatever. I'm horny.

But here's the thing. I'm not horny to do a great scene (just did that), and I'm not horny for Eagle-roofdeck-pickup-fastfood-sex-culimnating-in-me-pissing-all-over-a-hot-Brazilian-boy (just did that), and I'm not talking about horny for an all-night fuckfest at El Mirage (just did that).

But I am talking about horny for hot sex as the end of a romantic evening including dinner at a quiet, out-of-the-way restaurant and cigars on a stroll through summertime New York City and includes a moment along the lines of him saying, "Oh yeah, Sweetheart, chow down those tits, that feels great."

That kind of horny.

"Those slate gray overcast skies and all that lush greenery from the copious rain we've been having is makin' me horny."

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