Back Seat Wonders

Is there a new normal about what is appropriate in the backseat of a car? (By ‘appropriate,’ please consider the loosest form of the adjective.)

I am familiar with some back seat action, which first transpired in my youthful days growing up in suburban Los Angeles, where who and what you drove were everything. However, since turning 29, the backseat of a car has become quite the playground. I didn’t go rogue overnight though. It was a slow evolution:

2001: First kiss in my boyfriend’s car parked in front of Barnes and Nobles in sunny Calabasas, California—so wholesome 

2002: Boyfriend and I engage in heavy petting whilst stationed in front of the local park—keeping it classy

2006-2008: General making out with a couple different guys in a couple different NYC taxis—oh so saucy

2009: Light groping in London minicabs with select British gentlemen—ever so slightly cheeky

2011: The first back-seat-straddle transpires. Out of nowhere, I surprisingly jump on my cab companion and give him a preview of what will soon transpire—risqué minx move (so I thought at the time)

2012: I back-seat-straddle nearly every man with whom I have a romantic rendezvous—bow chica wow wowwww

Then 2013 happened.

The night started out as typically as could be. I met a Princeton alum at an Apollo Circle Metropolitan Museum Soiree; we continued the evening over a dimly lit dinner at Rosemary’s. Soon after dinner, we went to an even darker wine bar tucked away in a West Village corner. Next, we shared a cab and started making out. Yadda, yadda, yadda–so far, so standard.

But then, I pulled back for just a little breather (Upper West Side was quite the trek from West 4th Street), and suddenly without hesitation he picked up my legs, parted them, and went down on my town as we drove uptown.

I pressed one foot against the roof of the car, thinking WHAT WAS HAPPENING?? Is the cab driver watching us?  Am I wearing my go-to flesh-toned spanx?? Can people see us from outside? Why is this so natural to him—has he done this before? Does everyone do this?? Is my leg blocking the cabbie’s view from the rear view mirror? I am definitely not wearing a seatbelt—what if we get pulled over? Am I going to get a ticket?!

nyctaxiI thought my experience was clearly an anomaly – I mean cab hanky-panky wasn’t even featured on HBO’s Girls, my current sexual barometer for what the cool kids are doing these days, so evidently this was special stuff. Then just a few months later, in a different car with a different man, I found we were somewhat rounding third base, within literally just moments of getting in the taxi. Again—WHAT WAS HAPPENING??

All these years, had I just been missing out on these racy rides, or was this a new move men have begun to exhibit? Plus, others must routinely go all the way in the back of these shared vehicles, meaning I might consider dousing the back seat with hand sanitizer before next sitting down. Regardless of what is customary, the next time I enter into a taxicab with the man of the hour, I know to sit back, enjoy the ride, and most importantly– tip well!


Pretty please, with a cherry on top?

All you have to do is ask.

I essentially paid $200k for a Wharton education to learn the pivotal business negotiation tactic above. But I have recently found that the tenet holds true for sex as well. Until recently, I thought the hard to get card was the best one to play (at least whilst sober), and I still accept that it is human nature to want what you cannot have. However, I have also witnessed that people want what is simple, and right in front of them. To get it, you simply have to ask nicely.

I try to be easy breezy, but I end up mostly feigning it. Add just plain easy to that outlook, and you most certainly end the night with a romp. Case in point: this past week I reconnected with an old high school friend. He has reached out to me over the last 10+ years (clue 1 he wants to bone) although we have probably only seen each other twice since graduation. We met for drinks in a dark West Village wine bistro (clue 2: a dimly lit bar = ideal pre-bone setting) on a Thursday evening (clue 3: no one really bones for the first time during the first half of the week). Based on my Nancy Drew-like sleuthing skills, I naturally assumed that based on his behavior pattern and the fact that he possesses a penis, he clearly wants to get it in.

So, I askcheese-charcuterie-boarded him, in between bites of charcuterie, and in the easiest of breeziest ways, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

There was a look of shock cum excitement cum shock again before he answered. He rambled on about how he just wanted to catch up and how he even mentally told himself not to hit on me tonight. Ultimately, I have never seen a man pay the check so quickly.

Would I ever have been that direct pre-age 29? Absolutely not. All I sought from my old pal in that moment was a little action between the sheets. There were no games, no dalliances, and no mysteries– he knew exactly what I wanted. I got exactly what I asked for, and eleven years later– so did he. It was honest, mature, and very, very fun. (PS- he is ALSO a lawyer—that’s four in a row now! Separate blog post idea: On Boning Barristers?)

It has been written that nice girls don’t ask, but smart women do. Although that advice was given to those who desire to climb the corporate ladder, I have discovered that the same applies if you just want to climb up on a man. Yes, this behavior will probably not lead towards a long-lasting and loving relationship (can someone say snoozefest??). But at 29—I get it. I’m in this for the same reason this bozo on top of me is. And I am going to enjoy it for what it is. So I have learned—ask and I shall receive!