Hurricane Sandy Left Moms Desperate for “Sanity Sex”!
Maybe it’s the looming threat of danger, the realization that life is short and can change suddenly or the cabin fever, but Hurricane Sandy seems to be bringing out the naughtiness in everyone. In the past weeks since Sandy hit the shores of the Northeast the long list of hurricane hussies popping up is getting longer than those lines for gasoline.
Not me, of course. I mean everyone else.
It seems that life without power, and therefore porn, has many Northeasterners missing their usual online sexual outlets and seeking out (gasp!) humans instead. Don’t worry! Mostly by text, though. This is still the technology era. Even after a hurricane.
By my own counts, my received sext or sext-like messages increased by at least 70% since Sandy struck. Thank god I have an unlimited plan. At first, this was an ego boost. But the feeling of “Whoo, hoo! Men think I’m hot” quickly turned into “Wait, men think I’m easy??” and the psychological damage of Sandy’s super sexting began. There is no FEMA aid for that.
At first, there were just the obligatory, check-in, “Are you okay” texts from all the ghosts of boyfriends past. Then, the “what are you doing?” texts turned into “What are you wearing? “ texts. Questions about your Internet access turned into Facetime requests at midnight? And “Do you have gas?” morphed into , “I’ve coincidentally run out of gas outside your door, can I come in?” What???
Of course, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander and by Day 8, my (other) single girlfriends were feeling lonely and wishing for a man to hibernate with by day and cuddle up with at night (or a part thereof). I just wanted one to get on one of those gas lines for me. The winds of Sandy shifted with the pursue-e becoming the pursuer. Stories of single women reaching out to old flames, wannabe’s and near-misses for daytime and late night Sandy sex were all a flutter on Facebook. Single moms were calling in sitters for desperate runs for “sanity sex.” It was mostly inbox talk (I’ve heard!), not on profile pages. We ARE all professional adults for crying out loud.
And there it was, in the desperation and aftermath of Sandy, some people found hope, courage and their indomitable human spirit. Others found the beauty and freedom of Frankenstorm sex and an outlet for their inner hurricane hussy. Thanks Sandy.