29 June

At a sex shop in San Francisco my boyfriend and I purchased a book called 101 Nights of Grrreat Sex.

The first page warns that if you are satisfied in your love life, then the book wasn't for you. I wish I had known that earlier, but since I purchased it sealed there was no going back.

The book comes with a series of sealed envelopes, half "For Her Eyes Only" and half "For His Eyes Only." You are supposed to sit together and pick an envelope each week to read in private. That way you know at some point during the week you'll be surprised with a romantic act.

My first envelope was called "Fantasies of the Orient" and involved honey and hot tea. Following the directions, I made a pot of Chinese tea, draped a black blanket over our futon, and made my boyfriend take off all his clothes. Acting like I wasn't allowed to speak, I pushed him back onto the blanket, poured honey on his leg, and then licked it off. Then I had to put the tea in my mouth and let it hit his skin through my lips as I kissed him. First I scalded his neck and then I burned the inside of his elbow. Soon my tongue was aching from the near boiling liquid, but since I wasn't allowed to speak I just quietly cried on his stomach as I got sick from too much honey. I couldn't eat anything for the next two days.

We decided that it was just a bad envelope and tried again. My next envelope ("Treasure Trail") instructed me to cut out paper outlines of my feet to make a trail from the door to my "hiding place" where I was supposed to "pounce" on my "mate."

By the way, the only time that you ever hear your boyfriend or girlfriend described as a "mate" is when you're reading a sex-help book. Mate is the unsexiest word. Besides tuna. And uvula. Those are the three unsexiest words. But the last two are hardly found in the pages of Cosmo, now are they?

While making the cutouts the little voice in my head muttered, What the hell are we doing here? How old are you? I used my glitter crayons to make the feet say funny things. It takes a long time to trace, cut, and color feet to tape from your front door to your hiding spot. Plus the card said I should make them go in and out of several rooms in the house. We have a one-bedroom apartment, so I had the feet go into the bathroom, up the wall, and around the corner on the ceiling. Just a little Lionel Richie in there to get him motivated.

I'm sitting in the closet waiting for my boyfriend to get home from work and I'm thinking, Gosh, I hope he doesn't go out for a drink after work. I hope he just comes home on time. I wonder what I look like in here. Ow. I'm sitting on a high heel. I'm thirsty. Maybe I'll go get something to drink. No, I can't go out there, what if he comes home and I'm stainding in a trail of my own toes? This isn't sexy. This isn't even cute.

It was solitary confinement.

He did come home--late, of course--and apparently didn't even notice the new foot trail installed on our carpeting. I heard him call out: "Hello? Baby? Where are you?" I didn't know if I was supposed to answer. I heard the refrigerator door open and close. The television snapped on and the sounds of a basketball game filled the apartment. Unbelievable. He wasn't going to notice. What if in three hours he finally decided to do something about it? What would I do if he called the police and they came over, followed the paper trail, and found me asleep in the closet cradling a tin of Altoids, wearing only my panties?

I panicked, making noises that were a combination of whimpers and shrieks until I heard him get off the couch. When he finally found me five minutes later, he looked at me with a face that read: "Hello. Did you get lost? Do I need to call the hospital? Do you still understand English?" Then he laughed, and I knew this book was making a moron out of me.

His assignment that week focused on kissing. That was fun.

I pulled my third assignment. I was to make a sex game creating two sets of cards--one with body parts listed on them and the other with verbs. I tried all week, but I just kept wondering what would happen if he pulled the two cards that said "Thrust!" and "Ear!"

I refused to do my next assignment as well, where I had to "innocently" take him to the miniature golf course (because we putt-putt all the time?). I was supposed to go to the bathroom, take off my panties, wrap them around the golf ball, and hand them to him. Can you imagine? I'm sure he'd say, "What the hell--Hey!" And everyone would look up to see my panties on the hole nine. Besides, there are children on Putt-Putt courses. Mostly due to the fact that Putt-Putt is supposed to be a game for seven-year-olds.

The only thing I liked about the book was that while planning those ridiculous things, I thought about my boyfriend. I liked thinking that sometime that week there was going to be a surprise for me. But in general the two of us were much more creative than that book--which still sits in the bedroom, by the way, mocking me. Feeling like a dork is a really bad way to spice up your sex life. And come on, do you really want me showing my naked butt to innocent putt-putting children?

Love until later,

Anna K