Missionary Misnomer

"There is a common belief that the term "missionary position" arose in response to teachings by Christian missionaries that this sex position was the only "proper" way to engage in sexual intercourse. This is in fact a myth. The reality is that the term probably originated some time between 1945 and 1965 through a confluence of (apparently honest) misunderstandings and misinterpretations of historical documents."

Wikipedia




It’s a strange thing to me that I should, after all this time still prefer the missionary position. I mean after all, it’s so archaic, some would say boring. Maybe that’s the core of it right there. Boring. I hate that word, more than that I just hate the perception of being that way. It’s been a strange and full sexual life and you would think that I might come to appreciate some awkward, pinching stance like something from Cirque de Soleil. I was thinking about this very thing the last time I was with Jack and it occurred to me that my penchant for the bottom has its roots firmly grounded in my childhood along some Freudian line of thinking. I just love the surrender of it all. The feeling of the masculine weight on top of me, the face to face contact, being held tightly looking up into eyes alight with passion or love and sometimes when I’m lucky, both together. That doesn’t happen as often as you might think given the lifestyle choices I’ve made.

I wonder sometimes at my life and how I’ve arrived at this place. I suppose we all do at sometime or another and looking back I can see clearly the pieces falling into place but two years ago I couldn’t have told you I would be here, married twenty some years, several lovers, three children almost grown and not yet forty. I’m hopelessly average you see. Really. I could be your neighbor, your co-worker, the volunteer you know on the PTA or heaven forbid your child’s Sunday school teacher. Yeah, you heard me, Sunday school. My darling husband, the love of my life, soul mate all that romanticism bullshit is a prominent member of our local church family. A conservative congregation that wouldn’t take kindly to the story I’m about to tell. So, you ask, why tell it? Good question.

I think the answer has good deal in common with the missionary position. Life isn’t always what we expect it to be, sometimes the more outlandish we imagine it in our mind’s eye the more we see the qualities and characteristics of lives that have lived for generations never having been noticed, just like that girl you know, who happens to live next door.

And so it goes...