One of my best friends, Miranda, has been with the same guy since she was 16. They have two rambunctious kids involved in several extra-curricular activities and both she and her husband work full-time. For her, gettin’ busy in the bedroom usually means folding a fitted sheet into a perfect square. She’d rather get in the sexual unemployment line than perform a blow job and an orgasm simply can’t compete with a “Real Housewives” marathon. So you can imagine her surprise when she woke up one morning — after a school night — and discovered a “sticky” situation.
Miranda: (After dialing her husband’s work number) Uh, babe? Did we, um, have sex last night?
Babe: Hell yeah, we did! I’m talkin’, I thought I was in a damn porno.
Miranda: (Searching her memory with lanterns and bloodhound dogs) WE DID?!
Babe: Don’t act like you don’t remember. You are a NAUGHTY little thing! By the way, where’d you get that leather leash?
OK, I threw in that last part, but the thing is she didn’t remember one detail of her turn as Jenna Jameson’s understudy. Turns out Miranda’s part of a small population of Ambien users who lose ALL sexual inhibitions when they take the sleeping medication and have NO memory whatsoever of their wanton behavior the following day. Apparently, Ambien is every not-gettin-any husband’s dream come true. When there are poses that could impress “Penthouse” photographers and dirty talk that could bring a sex phone operator to take notes, it’s on ’til the break of dawn. Or in Miranda’s case, it’s on until she gets off. Homegirl literally passes out immediately after arriving in “O” town. No matter what she’s doing or how close he’s getting. Snores and all.
As she shared this story with Samantha and I this past weekend, we were doubled over with tears in our eyes, but when she hollered something to the two of us later that night the fun came to a quick halt.
“Hey, did you guys see an orange pill in the bathroom? … I need to take my Ambien.”
Samantha and I looked at each other with our eyebrows encroaching on our hairlines. I had visions of holding Miranda — AKA rabid woman in heat — down in the middle of the night while a barefoot and frightened Jake made a quick escape. Would there be foaming at the mouth? Maybe we could just throw a vibrator at her and lock the door behind us and no one would get hurt? Samantha, who was sharing a bed with her, had other concerns.
“If I feel a finger in my ass tonight I’m not gonna be happy!!!”
Neither of us had anything to worry about, though. The beast is only unleashed when she takes a whole pill and she usually only does half. That explains why her husband’s been bringing her a glass of milk and an ear-to-ear smile every night before bed.