The Weekly Mindfuck: Drunk Sex

We're always taught about the downside of inebriation. We make decisions we shouldn't. We say things we normally wouldn't. We're sloppy, messy, hungry, lazy, indulgent, and abrasive. We wear rose-colored glasses and slur our words as we stumble home, holding someone's hand with little concept of where we are or what time it is. I won't dispute any of those things, but I will say this much: There's something about drunk sex that's otherwordly in the best possible way. 

Having sex when you're drunk—not tipsy, but drunk—pulls you both closer and farther away from yourself, your partner, your environment, and your inhibitions. Drunk sex is coming in and out of reality, losing yourself entirely while you run your fingernails down someone's back. It's savoring who you're experiencing one moment and having no idea who you are or who he is or what life is another. It's feeling in an uninhibited, unbridled, unexamined way. Pure sensation with no ego, a wholly present moment that requires such minimal reflection you never even feel self conscious. It's pure experience, absorption, appreciation, whether we remember it fully in the morning or not. With the right person, drunk sex is transcendent. It's connection. It's intimacy. It's raw.

It's life.