THE SEXUAL TIME MACHINE

I hope I am not breaking any unwritten guy’s code of honor or giving away some sacrosanct societal secret, but if any of you non-males were wondering, sometimes when men are talking with each other the topic of sex and who they would and would not want to have sex with, comes up. Yup. Shocking.  Okay, maybe it’s not that shocking but since the topic will arise in about five paragraphs I thought it best to just get the whole thing out in the wide open where everyone can throw rocks and sticks at it like a third-world blasphemer getting stoned in the town square.

I’m glad we got that blatantly obvious factoid cleared up.  Now I can move on with the usual embarrassing of myself.

The other night, even though my body was over-tired, my brain was way too wound up for sleep. I found myself in front of the computer playing YOUTUBE roulette. You know, where you initially search for one video and then you continue to watch all the next ones that automatically pop up. I assume the choices are based on some pasty-skinned computer programmer’s incredibly simple code and algorithm. I also assume said programmer is now very, very rich.

Initially I watched a video of the obscure one hit wonder 1960s band The Seeds lip syncing their sole garage rock hit Pushing Too Hard on the equally forgotten short-lived low rated sit-com The Mother’s In Law.  Groups in those days were not as cleaned, polished and media ready as those today. I admit I’ve always found great humor in watching uncomfortable young musicians with ill-fitting clothes and bad teeth poorly pretending to be playing live even when there are no microphones, guitar amps or patch cords to the equipment. After chuckling my way through that first very dated clip, I viewed a slew of other performances by hippy-ish  pop bands from that era mostly culled from teeny-bopper shows like American Bandstand or Shindig.

Eventually a film of The Mamas And Papas performing California Dreaming on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1968 came on.  This is around the time the band was breaking up and none of the four members even looks like they are trying to properly sing along with the pre-taped vocal track of their two-year-old hit. Even though her voice can be heard loud and clear, singer Michelle Phillips is actually eating a banana and not even holding a microphone during parts of the song. History might try to re brand the performance as ironic or psychedelic but it looks more like disinterest and boredom.

I know hunting out this crap is a twisted guilty pleasure of mine but you likely sit around watching just as embarrassing time-wasting crap too, just different time-wasting crap. Although technically alive, I was too young to have seen The Mama and Papas perform live but I ended up with some of their records when my older siblings moved out of the house. I always enjoyed the music but I must admit the album covers got my attention too.  Like many other red-blooded heterosexual testosterone-infused young American males before me, I too thought 1960s Michelle Phillips was attractive.  Really attractive.

Watching that Mamas And Papas video my head wandered and I remembered a conversation I had with a group of guys a long while back. Someone mentioned a current day picture of a famous model he had the hots for when he was a kid. In a very non-politically-correct way, he talked about her aging very poorly. Someone asked if he would still ‘do’ her and he replied ‘only with a time machine’. This steered the conversation to the following question. ‘If you had a sexual time machine that could transport you back in time, what one person from each decade would you choose to have sex with?’

Fraught with sexist and somewhat misogynistic overtones, the question also totally ignores the whole non-existence of time travel or the simple fact that the object of each dude’s decade desire, in their prime no less, would want to be ‘done’ by the sad and lumpy men in the conversation. But let’s overlook all of that and indiscriminately write it off as ‘locker room talk’ like Donald Trump had with Billy Bush.

The usual names popped up as we each cultivated our lists:  Marilyn, Farrah, Christie, Aniston…. but no one else had any of the same picks as me. No surprise. I was even mocked a bit for some of my choices but I just took it as yet another reminder that I see the world a bit differently.

We had a tough time once we started getting to the 1940s, so we added a cut-off date before tossing in wacky names like Joan Of Arc, Fanny Kemble and Cleopatra.  One guy was going to pick Jane Fonda for the 1960s but said he couldn’t because of her political leanings. We put our heads together and decided that since we were already suspending belief by involving a fictitious time machine, he could over-look her Vietnam stance since his carnal physical desire date was for Barbarella-era Jane Fonda, who had not yet gone public with her anti-government opinion. Time travel can be tricky stuff.

Before I confess my list, let me talk about the summer I was 13 years old. My parents and I spent a couple of months living in a Miami Beach hotel while my Dad was working a project. Across the street was an old delicatessen style restaurant called Wolfie’s that we went to a lot. They had framed pictures of glamorous old Hollywood stars on the wall and one night a picture of Judy Garland caught my eye.

As a kid, I never paid much attention to her looks when I watched the Wizard of Oz every year but raging-hormone young Dan suddenly noticed post-Dorothy Judy was pretty.  Very pretty… at least in that one photo. This was pre-computers and cell phones when young boys were content with just looking at the bra ads in the Sunday newspaper, so I could not just Google a zillion pics of her to see if she had really been that attractive. After that everytime we went to the restaurant I tried to position myself to surreptitiously examine the picture a little more.

Alright, I’m ready to take the heat, so here we go. Because of that damn framed photo, my 1940s pick was Judy Garland. Everyone else had Marilyn Monroe for the 1950’s except for me, I opted for Brigitte Bardot. My 1960’s option was Michelle Phillips, which is what reminded me of this whole damn thing. Embarrassingly enough, I hate to admit it but Suzanne Somers was my 1970s verdict.

About the only one of these I think my wife would have guessed was Bernadette Peters, my 1980s choice. My 1990s pick was the one that the guys laughed at me the most for. Instead of all the famous beauty Britney, Bundchen, Campbell and Schiffer options out there,  Dan picked Helen Hunt.  Maybe I just like five-heads.

So there you go. Dan’s sexual time machine picks.

Oh…

You say I have no picks for any decade past 2000?

Well the conversation was a long time ago and… well… I figure my wife is already going to pick on me about this list… so since I met her in 2000… I think it best to have her be my choice for those decades.

 

 

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About mrdvmp

Mr DVMP spends his days breathing, eating and sleeping.
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