I wanted to try this out. You know, a super click bait-y title.
I mean, I guess I did with this one article about things not to wear after fifty, but I have never included the word “shocking”. I think you have to have the word “Shocking”, “Bizarre” or “Unbelievable” in the title to truly be a rock solid click bait title.
It totally worked, didn’t it?
You guys wanted to hear salacious details about old people sex, didn’t you?
Well, this article has elements that every other click bait article has. There are no secrets in this post and I’m reasonably sure no one will be shocked. Also, it will probably leave you slightly annoyed and somewhat unsatisfied. Sorry.
There aren’t any secrets and I assure you, I don’t do anything shocking.
Boomer sex is one of two things. On or off. Either we’re having sex or we aren’t. Personally, I’d like to hang on to that shit for as long as we can.
It does change, though. Radically.
Here’s a teeny glimpse into boomer sex.
I am 55 years old and, on Thursday, found myself in a fishnet body stocking.
I mean, not by accident.
We moved and unearthed artifacts from long ago and decided to brush off a classic.
Me: I feel like a toad.
Randy: Have you ever caught a fly with your tongue?
Me: OMG, yes. Yes, I have.
Me: There was this corner store when I was a kid that made snow cones and you know I love snow cones. I’ve always loved snow cones.
Randy: I am well aware of your fondness of snow cones. Especially, cherry snow cones.
Me: Well, one time I got a cherry snow cone and there was a dead fly in the straw and I sucked it into my mouth
Randy: Oh shit. That’s some nasty shit.
Me: I know. I had to pick individual fly legs off my tongue.
Randy: Hahaha, holy shit.
Me: So, we have just scientifically proven by your test that I am, in fact, a toad.
Randy: Hop on over here.
Me: I have to pee again.
Randy: Don’t pee on your hands, you’ll get warts.
Me: That’s an old wive’s tale. Frog urine does not cause warts. Warts are caused by a virus.
Randy: Whatever, toad girl.
Minutes pass because I am old and I guess old ladies take forever to pee.
Me: Hey, come in here.
Randy comes in to see me with the body stocking around my ankles.
Me: The plumber dude is coming on Monday for that little carbon monoxide issue, right?
Randy: Yeah, he’ll probably be done before you get done peeing.
Me: You are hilarious.
Randy: I’m going to watch that hot sauce show until you’re ready.
Seriously, what fucking happens that makes it take so long to pee? Is it just me? Because I am assuming it is all old ladies. I can’t contemplate that it is just me because I am already a professional level hypochondriac and have no room to add another reason why I am probably going to die soon. Anyway, by the time I get finished peeing estimated time, three rounds of Words with Friends, it seems silly to put the body stocking back on which felt super itchy anyway.
Me: Have you seen this episode?
Randy: Yeah, it’s the one with Charlize Theron. She is bad ass.
Me: Do you want to get back to business? I ditched the fishnet thingy. And I’m going to have to pee again.
Randy: I love it when you talk dirty.
Me: Fucking hell, she is bad ass. She’s hardly sweating. Remember the one with Kevin Hart? That was hysterical. She’s like the anti-Kevin Hart.
Randy: I’ll put that one on next. And then you have to see the Tenacious D episode.
An hour later.
Me: I have to pee again
Randy: Put the fishnet thingy on again.
Me: Dude, seriously? You’re lucky to get a quickie nooner thing right now. I’m tired.
Randy: Make me a pop tart?
Me: I can’t reach them, you put them in the shelf above the fridge.
Then Randy started composing a song that included the lyric “If I had a six foot wife, I wouldn’t have to fetch my own pop tarts.”
Me: Keep it up, motherfucker. At this point, you are going to be lucky to get “nooner level” enthusiasm from me.
I’m not telling you anything else because eww. There are no shocking boomer sex secrets, though.
However, just because you’re kind of old, have been together forever and can get derailed by people eating super hot chicken wings, doesn’t mean sex can’t still be hot.
I don’t think that is shocking, though.
Or a secret.