Where Have All the Blow Jobs Gone?

I’m lazing around Facebook this morning, avoiding all of the work I have to do, when suddenly I stumble into a serendipitous conversation with a gal pal about another type of labor, commonly referred to as the blow job. You remember giving head, right? It’s the activity you tolerated and perhaps even enjoyed early on in your relationship. Your mouth, his privates, and you never felt more powerful. If my memory serves me correctly, those were some heady (so to speak) days.

But oh, how the times have changed. Go ask your married friends, especially the ones with little kids, how many BJ’s they’ve given this year. I bet you a big bottle of lube, the kind that’s totally safe to use during oral sex, that most of them haven’t given more than 10 BJ’s since New Year’s Eve.

Now I have to admit, this concerns me. Where are our priorities? We’ve probably gotten 10 pedicures since January 1. We’ve probably watched 10X10 hours (yeah, 1000) of shit TV since January 1. We probably went to yoga class 10 times and pretended to enjoy it even though if we're being completely honest with ourselves we’d admit it’s boring. But 10 measly BJ's that we know will make the loves our lives sing with joy? Um, no.

Instead, the engagement of oral pleasure after years of monogamy is a rather complex phenomenon, as you will see in the graph I have conveniently inserted below (BJ Graph). Allow me to take you through it.

Early in the relationship: lots of BJ's. Lots. A veritable shitload of BJ’s. A panoply of oral techniques and tricks. Then we proceed to the first year of marriage (Year 1) where you will notice a rather steep decline. It seems that BJ's have been removed from the 'a la carte' menu, only to be reintroduced after the first year or so of marriage as a Holiday Special.

Holiday specials include the Birthday BJ, the Valentine’s Day BJ and sometimes a Passover or Easter BJ. And then, of course, there is the Seemingly Spontaneous BJ, which is actually not spontaneous since it always occurs after he’s stood up to his mother or bought you a very nice pair of earrings.

As you can plainly see, the precipitous drop in BJ's becomes a more permanent trend after Year 3. Rather than your mouth and his privates, it becomes: your mouth, a Chocolate Skinny Cow Ice Cream Cone, a night of Facebook surfing, and that’s about it.

BJ Graph:


Ever the curious type, I reached out to some of my married mom friends to see how much they do or don’t give oral pleasure these days. The range of their answers was as wide as… well, as wide as one would expect when asking women about BJ's. One woman said the frequency hasn’t changed since getting hitched and having kids. Another said it has actually increased now that she feels less insecure about her body. Hmm. This is very interesting. Could I be wrong about BJ’s? Could there be massive head-giving going on and I just don’t know about it?

That’s when the other responses started rolling in. “I just want to get to the good stuff,” “I’m too tired,” “It takes too long” and “If ‘man juice’ whitened my teeth, made me thinner, or younger.... I would put it in my mouth daily... since it does none of these things I have not tasted it since 1999...”

Ah, there we go. Now this is more along the lines of what I expected.

What all these replies about BJ's got me thinking about was power. Many women find giving head to be a very empowering experience. Others find it a chore and a burden. Is oral sex a currency we use to get what we want from our partners? Do our partners use their own means of currency to get oral pleasure from us? Maybe we don’t need a graph like the one you see above. Maybe we need a sexual economist, someone who can explain the supply and demand cycle of head.

Since I don’t have any solid answers, I’ll just continue to probe into the politics of felatio, if only because I MAY BE MARRIED AND A MOM BUT I AM NOT DEAD, DUH. And, of course, I’ve got my own economic supply chain that needs monitoring, analysis, activity and careful attention. Hey, it’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.

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