What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Whatgasm

Being a self-appointed animal rescuer, distress calls catch my attention and cause me to spring into action. As I pulled into my driveway in my topless Jeep, I heard what I assumed was the sound of two cats fighting. (Search YouTube for “The Conversation of Tiger Woods with his Girlfriend” to hear the sound.) I sprang from my Jeep and headed across my street to break it up. Once I reached a neighbor’s driveway, I realized the sound wasn’t coming from cats, it was coming from an orgasmic woman behind an open window.

Now, I know I’m slightly out of practice. Yet, I should know the difference between a woman in pleasure and a pissed off cat, shouldn’t I? It got me thinking, Why are orgasmic sounds so varied?

Here are some that I may or may not have experienced while being the deliverer of the orgasm or a casual passerby:
  • Orgasmus Normalis - Deep breathing, moaning, and a few short sentences with words like “God” and “Yes.” It escalates until one big “Argh!” and an exhale.
  • Orgasmus Dirtius - There are different levels of this but each one contains expletives. I’m a big fan of naughty words, but not while bumping naughty bits, because those words make me giggle. Giggling during lovemaking is not something any woman takes lightly.
  • Orgasmus Silentius - Here’s where I hold the back of my hand under a nostril and peel open eyelids to make sure I haven’t induced coma. This reaction also makes me consider penis elongatus.
  • Crygasm - I never quite know how to react to orgasms that cause eyes to leak. I’m afraid to ask. Tears of pain and tears of joy are remarkably similar in the dark.
  • Orgasmus Athleticus - I’m almost fifty. I’m no longer pliable. Some positions are best left to the smelly-matted yoga boys. I’ve had to tap out of a few sessions. Once, I said, “Uncle!” and she responded, “Don’t you mean: Aunt?”
  • Orgasmus Operatus - This is the one I heard when I went to break up the cat fight. It started with a single note with slight alterations in volume and pitch. If there were hip-slapping noises, I may have known sooner. Mariah would have been impressed with the sustain. I need to remember to deploy my fancy spy device (iPhone) on such occasions.
A man will usually mimmic his partner as that’s the safest strategy. If she starts squealing, it’s safe for him to growl. If she drops F-bombs, he can launch a few of his own. If she calls him “Daddy” or “Papi” ... well, it’s best to take that compliment silently. If she reacts to his butt slapping, ear licking, or nipple twisting with silence, he should know to quit it.

I didn’t get to break up any cat fight nor did I grab a beach chair, Cheetos, and a frosty Blue Moon. I did not golf clap. I walked silently back to my garage and reminded myself that sound travels (in other words, close the damn windows). When I entered my house, Syd & Symon (my cats) greeted me at the door with “What the fuck was that?” looks on their fuzzy faces.

“Sorry, boys. False alarm. That’s just one lucky neighbor.”

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