Putting on Mood Music

In some movies of the adult kind, there will sometimes be a scene where characters are about to bump uglies.  One of the characters will go over to their stereo (what an antiquated idea huh?) and put on some “mood music.”  This mood music is usually classical in nature, some variation of jazz, or some boning easy listening R&B.  Putting on this “mood music” is the “Let’s Bone” bat signal.

Now I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking about mood music since I started having sex.  I always thought it was what you were supposed to do.  Before getting it on, you put on some song and go about your business.  I never questioned why this was, just accepted that its how adults worked.  Pop culture never lies.

As I got older, just accepting things was no longer copacetic and so prior acceptance turned into panic; new neurosis cropped up suddenly.  No longer was it enough to worry about someone else seeing you naked or wondering if having that remaining slice of cake two days ago was prudent or hoping you didn’t have any dingle berries from the morning’s shit.  No longer would berating yourself for only shaking your penis twice after pissing, fully sure that some droplets of urine made their way onto your thigh, be enough.

Suddenly you are worried about the message being sent by your musical choices.  Do you go for easy listening, something for “easy riding”?  Do you dare put on some industrial heavy rock to send the message you are ready to fuck her not-so-gently?  What happens when you put on a song you actually like?  What if you find yourself humming or mouthing lyrics in between kisses, completely unaware of how awful you look?  What if you happen to put on a song that reminds her of an awful relationship or period in her life and she storms off in a heap of tears and barely understandable babble?

The other problem lies in the time.  All of a sudden you have an accurate barometer for how long you’ve been banging.  You’re fully aware that the song you picked is 4 minutes long and so when you cum 20 seconds into the session, you’re full of self hatred for having to sit through another 3:40 of a song that all of a sudden is sung in mocking undertones.  Fuck you Beatles for mocking my lack of performance!

Conversely, not putting on any ambient noise presents a different issue all together.  You become aware of the peculiar sounds that can emanate from the human body during coitus.  What the fuck was that popping sound?  Did we just make a fart noise with our chests?  Is that you or me moaning?  Also, the music helps break up the post sex session awkward silence.  Because as everyone knows, nothing says “sorry for being so disappointing” quite like a song.