To start my Monday morning I just read 5 Bizarre Sex Drive Boosters — No Whips, Drugs, or Videos on the Frisky. Have a read. It provides some decent tips. Though I’m not sure I’ll personally be ditching my whips, drugs and videos anytime soon… The hotness of a man who helps around the house is an oldie but goodie, which I waxed poetic about a few months back. And a man who smells of gasoline, or in hubby’s case, his earthy cologne when he returns from the garage, tool belt strapped on after a session of woodworking (insert obvious puns here), is mojo inspiring for sure. Last year my man crafted our family members wooden lamps with Edison bulbs and I do recall sanding and staining together being better foreplay than a few laps at the mall, even with a Gingerbread latte and fake snow tumbling down at The Grove.
But here’s the turn on that I’ve been thinking about these days and am determined to get to the bottom of—hangovers. And specifically, what is the physiological reason that hangover sex is so good? Or is this just me? My cursory Google search did not reveal the wealth of knowledge I’d hoped for. I’ve always found that contrary to a hangover’s characteristically un-sexy symptoms—headache, nausea, and irritableness—the sex that goes along with the morning after a night of partying is next level. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that hangover sex played a fairly large role in me finding the man of my dreams. (Hmm, that may say more about my former lifestyle than about hangover sex but no matter). I’m guessing it has something to do with raw nerve endings leading to extra intense orgasms but I’m going to check with some doctor friends on that. Or if anyone has some wisdom on this phenomenon, please feel free to share. I’ll report back.
Until then, happy holiday hangover sex to all. Hubby and I will have to get ours out of the way early this year for Christmas will be spent in a basement in Queens on a blow up mattress, next to my sister-in-law on the couch. Love you, Sis. Promise that even if we drink too many dirty martinis playing charades, we’ll still keep it in our pants.