Wham Bam, Thank You Ma’am

Shannon over at Shanpagne All Around blogged about this story the other day in her post, SEX: Lion Kills Woman While She Does It Like They Do It on the Discovery Channel , and although I don’t usually write about sex when it ends in death and dismemberment (instead of just guilt and shame, the way God intended), the story did remind me of a post I wrote a bit ago, Wham Bam, Thank You Ma’am, in which I discuss the possible evolutionary advantages to quiet, furtive sex.  So that my readers can be better prepared when they sneak off into the African wilderness to have some sex, here’s that post, as a sort of Public Service Announcement.


Ok, I have a confession:  I once dated a guy who lived in his parents’ basement.  Wait!  Wait!  Before you start sneering and snorting and passing judgment on me, let me explain how he wasn’t a total loser (not totally): he was a poor graduate student, and the basement was really nice, much nicer than the crappy apartment I was working two jobs that summer to afford, and I don’t think his Mom still did his laundry, but, I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.   Did I mention he was good looking?  Oh yeah, he was good looking, in that way Italian men are good looking, which means they think they are way more attractive than they actually are and are convinced they could do better than you, if they tried.

So you see why this didn’t last.

Don’t go down there!

But I did date him long enough to find myself in that basement one night after we had gone to a movie and then decided to go back to his house to drink cheap beer and make out hang out.  In the middle of this, um, hanging out, he put his hand over my mouth and whispered fiercely, “Be quiet!  You’re going to wake my parents!”

At that moment, I suddenly realized why you should never date a man who lives in his parents’ basement.

Since then, I’ve often thought back on this episode and been a little ashamed and embarrassed (obviously not too much, since I’m blogging about it now) because there I was, with my blouse unbuttoned and my bra twisted somewhere up around my neck, trying to be all sexy and encouraging by responding vocally (and really, I wasn’t too loud.  Really, I wasn’t.  Really.) to him, when he felt the need to chastise me.

Do you hear copulating sounds?

But today I read this article in the LA Times: Why Prolonged Sex is Dangerous: It Can Get You Killed  and it’s got me changing my long-

held opinion of this jerk that I let tongue kiss me and touch my boobs.  The article explains that (maybe) Mother Nature has designed sex to be quick, furtive, and quiet so as not to attract the attention of that sabre toothed tiger over there licking its chops in our general direction when we are, um, distracted, and probably not thinking clearly enough to grab the nearest rock and hurl it.  To test the theory, researchers invited a bunch of bats to a fly swinger party.

 . . .when the flies copulate, the researchers reported Monday in the journal Current Biology, they make a distinctive noise that the bats can home in on. Of the 1,105 acts of copulation observed by the researchers, bats attacked 59 times, consuming both flies almost all the time — thereby obtaining a two-for-one dinner.

To show that it was not simply the increased size of the copulating couple that attracted the bats, the researchers pinned flies in a copulating position to the ceiling. The bats ignored them. But when the team played the sounds of copulation through speakers, the bats attacked the speakers.

Poor stupid, horny flies.  Of course, the bats aren’t too smart either.  I wonder how speakers taste. Probably not much worse than flies, I suppose. (And what kind of noises do you think flies make when they screw?  And shouldn’t “Sounds of Copulation” be a playlist available on iTunes?)

So when my basement-dwelling Italian boyfriend put his hand over my mouth and told me (more or less) to STFU, maybe he was just responding to some signal coming from deep inside his reptilian brain, reaching back through millions of years of evolution, to protect me and keep me safe.  Oh, and what about that other guy I dated for a bit, who always spunked TWO minutes after getting it in?  Yeah, him, too.  He had to be quick, to avoid the predators!

Hmmmmm.  Remind me not to sleep with any of the researchers who conducted this study.

Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG.



12 thoughts on “Wham Bam, Thank You Ma’am

  1. kylemarcellus says:

    It’s 5:30 am, where I am, as I’m trying to survive the final hours of my shift at the hospital. My coworkers are sneering at me as I’m laughing out loud while I read this post. I’m sure a lot of us have shared similar experiences as your basement moment and hopefully several are getting a good laugh revisiting those moments like I am. Great post!


    • Karen says:

      Gee, I hope you weren’t assisting on some really complex limb reattachment surgery (or something) when you were reading this post at the hospital. If you were, I totally understand the sneering of your co workers and I am on their side. 😉

      Thanks for the kind words. And, just an FYI, I’m not revisiting these moments in my life–every day seems to bring a new one. 😉


  2. Elyse says:

    As the mother of a 21 year old currently sleeping in the basement (home on spring break) I am sighing and shaking my head. Surely my basement is still pure.


  3. Not So Sex in the City says:

    Oh “don’t wake the parent sex” is the worst. Unfortunately, after a failed marriage plus a failed trip to the other side of the world, I’m back living with family at the grand old age of 26. It’s killing me. I want to scream rude things very loudly. Like the “F” word. But I can’t. I bite his shoulder to keep myself quiet instead 😉


    • Karen says:

      I don’t know about “Don’t wake up the parents sex” being the worst. “Don’t wake up the kids sex” is pretty bad, too.


  4. Not So Sex in the City says:

    Ah I can imagine. I don’t have kids yet (thankfully) so I don’t have that worry! Lol! I’m pretty sure I’ve had to be quiet to avoid waking up someone else’s kid though… That’s pretty bad actually, isn’t it? Hmmm….


  5. Amanda says:

    I’ve never blamed my reptilian brain for all of my foibles, but I’m sure about to start. I found your blog via NaBloPoMo and will be definitely coming back. This was hilarious.


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