Beauty is Imperfection

(Originally posted Wednesday, June 18, 2008 )

The New York Times‘ Amy Goodstone Live Blogs A Sexual Encounter With Boyfriend Brad Smithee

9:05 p.m. Brad’s watching a show on cable about geese, but then sees a bit of that one “Sex and the City” episode where Cynthia Nixon is naked

9:06 p.m. “We haven’t done it in a while.” “I know,” I say.

9:07 p.m. I go to brush my teeth. My scalp and feet are starting to itch and might change my mind, but he’s already taking off his clothes. When I come back in he’s already running around naked like a 4-year-old toddler with a sock puppet. He lies back and puts his hands around his head, as if everybody in the room is supposed to acknowledge his pripaic hood ornament and offer it obeisance.

9:08 p.m. I turn the light off. Brad asks me to turn it back on. “I like to see.” “But there’s a mirror there,” I say, “I don’t want to see myself or be seen by anybody to see me, including you. I haven’t been to the gym.”

9:16 p.m. Brad takes the mirror down and puts it in the other room. I crawl under the covers and turn on my side. Brad comes over and starts feeling around like he’s tuning a piano. His clothes are already off.

9:17 Brad sticks his hand under my shirt and starts moaning like Young Frankenstein. I think he’s being ironic at first, but he’s not.

9:18 Brad rips the covers off me and then takes off my clothes. I ask him if I can leave my socks on, but then he starts whining. So I take those off too.

9:22 p.m. We start the act. He wants fellatio, but he already went inside me. “Too late,” I snap.

9:23 p.m. I ask him which “Sex and the City” character I’m like. He says “Miranda” and I get pissed off.

9:24 p.m. I ask him what’s going through his mind. He says me. Liar.

9:27 p.m. I’m thinking about Don Knotts. This is going nowhere fast for me.

9:28 p.m. I ask him to tell me a story. An erotic story. “You mean like two strangers on a train?” he asks. That’s not really it, but I let him go with it. He’s talking about coming into my compartment and seducing me, but then comes up with some hokey thing about seeing a dead body fall from the top of the car, and I know he’s just getting off track.When he finally mentions lesbians, I kiss him to shut him up. “Just do it already.”

9:29 p.m. The dog’s looking at us and we gotta throw him out.

9:30 p.m. I’m still not sure about Obama’s health-care plan, I say. Brad isn’t paying attention, because he’s trying hard not to finish too quickly, but then he starts getting into it and says it was better than Hillary’s plan. Then we start talking about my dumb ass cousin who’s in hock up to her eyeballs.

9:31 p.m. Brad says he wouldn’t mind hitting my cousin. That pisses me off, but then I start thinking about it a bit and getting pissed off is kind of turning me on a little. I push his head down between my legs. “Assume the position,” I bark at him. “General quarters.”

9:32 p.m. Brad mentions that this part always takes 8 minutes and that I’m like a perfect train that always pulls in on time. I’m thinking of Brad Pitt rubbing my feet and asking me how my day was and then asking how our daughter was. Then Brad gets lost, and I’m just thinking about me thinking about myself. I’m the center of my goddamn universe.

9:40 p.m. Yes, yes, yes.

9:34 p.m. Brad comes back, and then he finishes in a couple of minutes. A big mess.

9:35 p.m. Clean up. And a few cookies while standing naked in the kitchen. Then I go back online and start chatting with Janine about “All My Children.” “Kendall’s such a whiny bitch,” I say.