(Come) Out, Damn'd Spot!-- A Map to the Female Orgasm?

Ever wonder why guys tend to go tearing off without maps up unfamiliar exit ramps, start putting together things without looking at the manual, and generally have the inability to follow instruction? We are victims of the g-spot. We don’t know any better than to fumble around aimlessly until we accomplish our mission. No other phenomenon demonstrates the vagueness of females better than the female orgasm. I think I’ve given a girl an orgasm before? It’s that same feeling as I used to have after completing a huge math problem: I’d turn to the back for the answer and I was either correct, or way off. But, even when I was correct, I was never sure I was right until I checked the answer…and I could never remember how I even figured out the answer. It almost feels as if I just lucked out if I give a girl an orgasm: It’s like accidentally opening a secret passageway in an old house by pulling the correct book from the book case. Problem is, even if I’m repeatedly with the same girl, her shelves are lined with similar looking books, which seem to change order…and there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever find that book again to open the secret passageway. Was that even how I did it in the first place? And what is this g-spot anyway?

Ever wonder why guys tend to go tearing off without maps up unfamiliar exit ramps, start putting together things without looking at the manual, and generally have the inability to follow instruction? We are victims of the g-spot. We don't know any better than to fumble around aimlessly until we accomplish our mission. No other phenomenon demonstrates the vagueness of females better than the female orgasm. I think I've given a girl an orgasm before? It's that same feeling as I used to have after completing a huge math problem: I'd turn to the back for the answer and I was either spot on, or way off. But, even when I was correct, I was never sure I was right until I checked the answer...and I could never remember how I even figured out the answer.

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It almost feels as if I just lucked out if I give a girl an orgasm: It's like accidentally opening a secret passageway in an old house by pulling the correct book from the book case. Problem is, even if I'm repeatedly with the same girl, her shelves are lined with similar looking books, which seem to change order...and there's no guarantee that I'll ever find that book again to open the secret passageway. Was that even how I did it in the first place?





And what is this g-spot anyway? I hear it might exist, but it might not—like Bigfoot or the Lock Ness Monster. People just stumble upon those guys when they see them, and the public still doesn't believe in the sightings. I have this awful feeling that the g-spot is in a different place on every single girl. The idea of the g-spot is awesome: a girl will have an orgasm if you touch it (I think?). But I've had different girls tell me that their g-spot is in different locations—and some girls have told me they don't even know if they have one or where it is if they do have one!
How am I supposed to figure out where to go if the owner of the g-spot doesn't know where it is?

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I wish the g-spot was like a moth—you know— how they all congregate to light for some reason? I'd just head down there with a spelunking cap on and let the g-spot come to me.



Unfortunately, I think the evil jokester known as biology (boy has that jerk played a lot of tricks on me) has set the g-spot to be like one of those opposite ends of a magnet against my finger—or whatever appendage I try to find it with. You know how when the wrong ends of the magnets line up they avoid one another even when you try to force them together? Bottom line: if girls don't even know where the special book is to open the secret passage in their own library, no way I'm going to find it.



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After looking at the inventory of a sex toy shop, I'm surprised that any guy can give any girl an orgasm whether he finds the g-spot or not. This is because he's equipped with a simple run-of-the-mill penis. Look at these vibrators and dildos (dildoes?) out there. How am I supposed to compete with them? This one has little spikes around its head like a cactus. That one has another thing protruding out the top so that there is something going in and touching above. Another one gyrates around at adjustable speeds and has a charger! Goodness! Last I checked, my penis didn't do any of these things, or have a cute name like "rabbit". Yet another evil trick biology has played on me. I guess I feel the same way a girlfriend feels when she finds hidden porn with Jenna Jamison in it:



"Is that how you wish I looked"?


Well, is that how you wish my penis looked?



In the end, it is good that we are all different. If the girl's secret book was always in the same place, life would get boring. It's fun to learn about each other's minds and bodies when you're in love. And, until I am an expert—and that will never happen—I will just go by my "follow her cues, breathing, and movements" strategy. So, when she's breathing all sexy, I'll do more of that and oops—awkward moment— no more of whatever I just tried. Some day maybe I'll have a database of moves and maps, and complex equations I can rely on but, until the clever female orgasm stops mutating and there's an "X" marking the g-spot, that's