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Sexploitations: Love Birds - June 28, 2018 - SF Weekly
SF Weekly

Sexploitations: Love Birds

It came to my attention the other day that I was wearing socks patterned with sparrows, a sweater decorated with a mallard, and earrings made to look like quetzals — which are, for those of you who don’t know or have difficulty picking up context clues, a type of bird. My love of birds was not only noticeable, it was pushing me well over the line into crazy bird-lady territory, a place no 28-year-old should be.

How the fuck did I get here?

Let me start with a reminder of the myth that women can’t be sex-crazed, lascivious pervs, just like men. (If that’s a concept you can’t wrap your head around, then this article may not be for you, because I’m a dirty bitch. And gender is a social construct, anyway.)

So back to our avian friends. It all started on my honeymoon, when I decided I wanted to fuck the guide my husband and I hired to show us around his country. We were part of a group, and I wasn’t the only one he’d charmed. In fact, I would go so far as to say that in my experience with trip guides, roughly 100 percent of them do the job as an easy way to get laid. And I’m here for it.

I’ve always liked birds, but not enough to learn their names — kind of like coworkers. Also like coworkers, they’re around all the time, easy to ignore, and sometimes you want to put one in a cage. Animals in general have always been my thing, but being particularly into birds struck me as something I could look forward to in retirement, when walking while looking through binoculars is about as far as you can take thrill-seeking.

But when I found out my guide — with his rock-hard body, accent of any kind, and recent divorce — was into birds, I decided an early retirement had come, and so would I. Men love imparting wisdom, and I was an empty cup needing to be filled. I invented scenarios of us sneaking through the jungle in search of bucket-list birds, him angling my face to look in the right direction, my eyes straining to catch any movement through the foliage. Our bodies would get closer and our breathing would match, trying to respect the marital bond but unable to resist the tangible heat building between us. Yet again, I’d managed to turn something stereotypically boring into a mental porn shoot, and this just reinforces my point earlier about women (like me) being naughty sluts as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

Restraint is a powerful aphrodisiac, so even though this particular scenario hadn’t yet come to fruition, our sexual tension built into a sensation so extreme it would’ve been painful if it weren’t so exciting. Although I happily would have, this tour guide could not fuck the brains out of one of his clients who was traveling with her brand-new husband, for whatever reason. Probably, that’s because he’d get fired. Even so, I used every bird as an opportunity to get closer to him, asking their names and repeating them back later on, because everyone knows men get turned on by girls who memorize field guides.

The honeymoon ended, but I was only getting started on my marital sexploits. I began taking my bird study more seriously: Exploring the wild in search of flightful treasures was thrilling and meditative all at once, and I could see why he liked it. I made a note to find a way to use that to my advantage, and soon found a legitimate bird-related reason to return to my honeymoon country.

I showed up full of bird knowledge and lacking a (physically present) husband, and like a male Bird of Paradise trying to get laid, I committed myself fully to the art of seduction. I pointed out birds left and right, showed off my soft stepping so as not to scare off wildlife, and wore extremely short shorts and low cut tops all the time.

I don’t know what it is exactly that made the difference, but I’m proud to say after all my hard work memorizing bird calls and “accidentally” and constantly letting my ass peek out from under my shorts, we broke that built-up sexual tension in the way that only highly-developed primates can: loudly, passionately, and then never again.

But at least I got a neat new hobby out of it that now informs my fashion purchases. What more can a sex-and-bird-crazed girl ask for?