The Joy of Snowsex
Because when the “biggest blizzard in a century” snows you in, how the hell else are you going to entertain yourself?
By Leigh Cowart
Having snow sex? Email me: leigh.cowart@gmail.com
Twitter: @voraciousbrain
11:01 p.m.
Asheville, NC
There’s a certain mythos to snow day sex. In the pantheon of top quality sexual situations, being sealed inside a warm home with nothing to do but each other is ideal in many ways. That is assuming you’re lucky, of course. One misjudgment in character and you’re snowed in with Jack Torrance, or worse — a bad Tinder decision.
It’s a testament to how special it can be to spend time with a loved one and/or lust object that, when faced with the scenario of being forcibly disconnected from the world by an act of nature, humans totally risk it. We could be snowed in alone, we could be snowed in with someone we adore, or we could be snowed in with someone loathsome and irritating. But loneliness and a cold bed are poor company in a storm, and so we try for the sweet spot of companionship.
And sweet was definitely the theme, as most responders weren't having sex at all. There were many tender moments, solo sessions, and snuggles, but actual NSFW snow plowin’ didn’t come up much. Maybe that’s because those lucky enough to be tangled up in the sheets were smart enough to avoid their devices in the blessed whiteout. But I can’t shake the feeling that perhaps it’s less about who has a phone in their hand, and more a reflection of the back half of winter.
It’s the season of cold, dark, and comfort-seeking. Foods are warm and rich, bodies get softer, blankets become heavy enough to pin you to the bed, and there’s barely any sun so everyone’s run out of vitamin D. It’s the time of dry skin and seasonal depression. I mean, people even leave their socks on for sex and no one cares. So perhaps it is unsuprising that, when gifted with the rare chance to hunker down and turn your back on the world, so many of you spent that time just being nice to each other. Tender, not tinder.
I bet y’all get nasty as hell in hurricanes, though.
5:01 p.m.
Boston, MA
A special dispatch from our Tinder correspondent inside the sno-zone. Per her investigation, she reports that users of the dating app appear to be business as usual, with no mentions of the winter weather, save for this gentleman.
There’s a lot to unpack here.
4:40 p.m.
New York, NY
I feel like this is the perfect kind of snowsex for the kind of snow storm NYC got last night.
Step 1: Get excited.
“I arrived at my current romance’s place with a bottle of whiskey, some snacks, and an extra pair of sweats (just in case the blizzard decided to sneak into the house and attack my balls).
Step 2: Over-prepare.
“We had some drinks, chatted, felt each other up, the usual stuff. She stepped into her office to send an email she forgot to fire off, and I took the opportunity to take a nap on the couch.
Step 3: Wake up confused.
“I woke up with a cat on my chest in pitch black darkness, harvesting my warmth for itself. I pawed around for my phone, saw the two text messages that said “COME TO BED” and stumbled into the bedroom…where I fell asleep again.
“Needless to say, the explanation of her trying to physically remove me from the couch while I mumbled to myself the night before was hilarious enough.”
2:35 p.m.
[somewhere cold]
1:55 p.m.
New York, NY
Q: What did you do last night during the storm?
A: “Well last night [my husband] was a little feverish. So things didn’t get too sexy, but he took a warm bath to feel better. And I did sit there beside the tub and ended up rubbing his chest which felt beautiful [and] intimate if not erotic. Today was a bit of a bummer, we were both supposed to have the day off but now I have to go into work.
“I’m bummed I don’t have a sexier story (both for you and me). If it were hurricane Sandy I’d have more for you.”
10:19 a.m.
[someone else’s house]
Make it special for the snow day, kids.
10:08 a.m.
Brooklyn, NY
Q: How did you spend your evening?
A: “Cuddling for warmth.”
“[S]now is a great excuse to spend a serious evening together doing all that fun stuff that we are too often not doing because our schedules don’t sync, or we have dates with other people, or whatever.”
8:59 a.m.
Bronx, NY
8:48 a.m.
[unspecified snowy location]
Q: What were your blizzard sex plans?
A: “Didn’t really have specific “blizzard sex” plans. Same thing we do every night, pinkie: read poorly written erotica fanfiction and wank. Our kids are also snowed in, so there’s that. I’m not sure we ever were like, ‘ooh, we’re trapped by a blizzard, let’s fuck!’ at any point in our relationship.
“Porn is porn. Eye contact makes porn better, not snow.”
2:31 a.m.
Brooklyn, NY
Q: What are you doing tonight?
A: “So I used to opportunity to crash with a girlfriend out in Brooklyn. It’s snow-day type shit. There’s this timelessness about being stuck inside that just incentivizes you to just have sex a few extra times? You just end up staying up late. I’m definitely gonna be up until 4am, and by the like, third or fourth time you’re having sex (just cause you’re still awake) you get experimental. That half-way between asleep and awake when you feel cozy and taken out of time is exactly where ass play begins.”
2:03 a.m.
Philadelphia, PA
I think that snow unavoidably makes things more special. It’s like the difference between sleeping under a sheet, and being cocooned in family quilts; the insulation from the outside world makes what’s inside more precious.
“I’ll be sexless as usual,” writes one reader from Philly, “except for the usual gay weight gain fetish sites and social networks, not to mention whatever’s on my Tumblr dash or YouTube, possibly XTube. The idea of becoming someone, something else completely is hot, especially in the cold weather, and so is the idea of helping someone achieve their dream body. Even the illusion that more mass will keep one warm is nice, if not the idea of having someone with me.
“I’ll probably look at OKCupid and Grindr, with a 10 and 5 percent chance of messaging someone on either respectively, maybe even check Craigslist but not even dare to reply, not that I would were I living on my own anyway. Whatever messaging, interaction I get from these sites will offset being thirty and a virgin, which as a gay on the spectrum makes me feel eighty.”
He told me I could call him Ted Cruz in “whatever article this is for.”
1:15 a.m.
Waterbury, CT
“There’s masturbation before sleep tonight,” said one man, likely speaking for the thousands more shirking their Monday bedtime responsibilities thanks to the new snow globe motif. “Knowing I’m probably not going to have to go into the office in the morning because of the snow makes it a yes that the snow influenced my decision, because I’ll stay up later, which makes it more likely I’ll want to have that particular enjoyment.”
A particular enjoyment, indeed.
The Joy of Snowsex
Snow, especially lots of it, tends to cause a certain kind of heat-seeking, burrowing response in human adults. A big, menacing blob of white on the weatherman’s green screen and it’s off to the store for water, bread, booze, and toilet paper. It’s a very human thing, this need to hole up and plan ahead for winter — even if today’s allotment is only just the thinnest slice of it. The isolation of being snowed in is a thrilling reprieve from the oh-so-adult requirement to physically leave the house.
However, every time there’s a snowstorm, media outlets churn out scandalized pieces about what the filthy sluts of the North get into when snow seals the door. And yes, it’s nice to conjure a glittery world of sweat-slick Vikings humping all manner of hot-blooded consensuals, but I suspect the real world of snow sex is stranger, softer, and more human than the headline writers would prefer.
So, check your flashlight batteries, charge your devices, and bundle up tight, because for as long as the storm lasts I’m going to be reporting on the weird, wonderful, and lonely world of snow sex. I’ll be soliciting your stories, talking to people in all manner of behind-closed-doors, and hearing from a cast of Tinder correspondents providing intel from the cold front lines.
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