Mom’s Second Sex Class: Sizzle or Fizzle?

Last night I attended my second sex class at G Boutique. It was a repeat of the one I took last month called BJ University. I’ll let you figure out what “BJ” stands for. Got it? Great.

Despite the racy topic, I have to admit that I wasn’t messing around when I signed up for this class. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to have a good time but I also hoped to learn a lot again. Fortunately the teacher, who is sort of my hero, was right there with me. But my fellow students? Not so much, at least not for some of the women who showed up last night. Their behavior – and my reaction to it – was pretty mind-blowing, and not in the way you’d think.

I signed up for BJU last month primarily because I wanted to give my sex life a jolt. Whether it was a battery-operated jolt or not didn’t matter too much to me. I just wanted to put some fire back in the bedroom and feel like a sex goddess, or at least the mom version of one. “Did it work?” you might be wondering. I don’t want to bore you with the juicy details but let me just say this: I’m a hardworking student.

I went back to G Boutique last night to nail down a few more techniques. But instead of the nirvana I experienced during my first class, I found myself frustrated with some of the other attendees. My irritation centered around two small cliques of women who had clearly signed up for BJU together.

The first group, all without wedding bands, had helped themselves to a little too much wine before class started. Listen, I get that we all need a little alcohol to loosen things up. But did they have to imbibe so much that they were slurring their words and slobbering all over their fake penises, and not in a good way?

I happened to be sitting next to these gals, where I already had my hands full writing down everything the teacher said, practicing on my dildo, and making sure I didn’t smear lube all over my notes. Trying to ignore their annoying commentary didn’t make things any easier. Like I said, this is serious business. They don’t call it a job for nothing.*

One woman, in particular, had foot-in-the-mouth disease. Have you heard of it? It’s when you’re in a social situation and can’t shut the heck up. I recognized it because I too suffer from the same affliction. It goes like this: You’re well aware that no one thinks what you’re saying is remotely funny, but you’re sure that if you could get just one good laugh from the group you’d be able to turn the whole thing around. But that never happens. It never happens with me, and it certainly didn’t happen with this gal last night. But that didn’t stop her from trying to prove her wittiness, again and again.

The second group was made up of married women who looked to be in their mid to late 30s. Unlike the rest of the attendees, who were paying rapt attention, this cluster of ladies apparently already had their Ph.D.s in Oral and Digital Stimulation. As such, their activities consisted of cruising Facebook, gossiping loudly, and using their dildos to point at each other. Whether it was the gargantuan diamonds dripping off their hands or their condescending attitudes, these four women got under my skin. I could be wrong, but I got the distinct feeling that just like the rest of us (or perhaps more so), they had a lot to potentially gain from last night’s lessons.

Do you want to know what bothered me the most about last night? That I was so impatient and judgmental. Why did I have to analyze everyone and act like the BJU campus police? So the jokesters were showing off and the married ladies were too embarrassed to admit they needed instruction. And who cares if we need a little alcohol to talk about testicles, orgasms, hand jobs, and blow jobs? I may still be a freshmen at BJU but I certainly know this: everyone is in a different place in their lives sexually, and everyone is going to respond to this class in a different way. It’s not my place to judge anyone, which is exactly the point of G Boutique and BJU.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself last night as I tried to focus on the licks, hums and tugs. Instead, what I mostly heard were the cackles and mindless (and sexless) conversations around me. I guess this means I’ll have to go back for round three, where hopefully I’ll be a little more chill. There certainly could be tougher assignments, especially for this mama/sexual goddess-in-training.

~By Wendy Widom, Families in the Loop

*That line is from Samantha Jones in Sex and the City.