Stupid Oxytocin (aka Sex Voodoo)

I’ve known for years that sex makes me do stupid things. It’s smart to hold off on rolling around in the sack until I know the potential lover pretty well, although I rarely do so. I know it’s smart to wait, not because he’ll be more inclined to take me home to meet his mother (men who still need mommy’s approval really aren’t high on my list); but rather, because I’m more inclined to keep my head on straight long enough to determine whether the man is someone worthy of being in my life and in my bed. You see, I’ve learned that once I sleep with a man, along with my panties, my good sense flies right out the car window.

I’ve termed this phenomenon “sex voodoo.” For years that’s all I knew about it. Sleep with a man, and I make poor choices. My standards become virtually non-existent. I turn into one of those women about whom you whisper to your friend: “What is she thinking?” Nine times out of ten, we’ve been jabbed in the brain stem by the sex voodoo pin.

I now know there is a scientific basis for going fucking insane (and I do mean the insanity that results from fucking). It’s called oxytocin. Oxytocin is one dumb chemical. From Psychology Today:

Oxytocin
Pair Bonding

Oxytocin is a powerful hormone. When we hug or kiss a loved one, oxytocin levels drive up. It also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain. In fact, the hormone plays a huge role in pair bonding. Prairie voles, one of nature’s most monogamous species, produce oxytocin in spades. This hormone is also greatly stimulated during sex, birth, breast feeding, and the list goes on.

Based on experience, I’m pretty sure oxytocin levels increase regardless of whether your sex partner is a “loved one.” Fuck someone enough, and before you know it, you turn into a prairie vole. You whither at the thought of not having him in your life. With oxytocin levels juiced up, you don’t care that he doesn’t have a job. You don’t care that he expects you to support him financially. You don’t care that rather than being the partner you looked forward to sharing your life with, he is instead the dependent you never thought you’d have (given you no longer have a uterus, and all).

Try it yourself: take a break from sex with your partner. Better yet: take a break from being in his physical presence. When your oxytocin levels drop, check in with yourself. Do you still think you can’t live without him? Or do you cringe at the thought of his touch? Okay, so it might not be this extreme, but I’m guessing your head will be on a little straighter and you can see the relationship for what it really is. Or isn’t.

Sex voodoo isn’t to be trifled with. It’s caused many a sensible woman to find herself in a relationship with a man they never in a million years would have considered dating pre-fuck. So if you think you’re just going to keep him around as a go-to when you need some lovin’, think again. This shit has a mind of its own. And it’s hardly rational. So save yourself the trouble: don’t fuck anyone with whom you wouldn’t want to be involved in a long-term relationship. And if you’re not sure, keep your panties on until you are. Lest you wake up one day to find yourself involved in a long-term relationship with a character from Animal House.

About Unconfirmed Bachelorette

Unconfirmed Bachelorette, a/k/a Ella, is a 50-something-year-old lawyer who wishes fervently she could retire from the practice of law and write full time. Never-married-childfree Ella resides in Austin, Texas with her three fluffy black rescue cats and two interlopers.
This entry was posted in Breakup, Commitment, Love, Mid-Life, Oxytocin, Relationships, Sex Voodoo and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Stupid Oxytocin (aka Sex Voodoo)

  1. CurvyLou says:

    Reblogged this on curvylou and commented:
    OK, I know this is an old post. However. I am a huge fan of archive archeology. I can’t resist buried gems, and this needed to come to light. This woman’s self-propelled expedition through her own deepest trauma, and her humor and poise while dealing—vocally and articulately—with abuse, depression, and alcoholism have me indisputably hooked. Unconfirmed Bachelorette is still blogging away, three and a half years later.

    Like

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