I met up with 2 of my favorite people last week for a girls’ night. Six years ago, this would have involved low cut tops, tight pants, boozy nights out, and battle cries of “Let’s get slutty!!” reverberating off the walls. Now, it means we get together and order take-out, look at pictures of Melanie’s new baby, and Natasha turns into Martha Stewart and bakes decadent desserts. Like Bob Dylan said, the times they are a-changin’.

One thing that never changes though – the conversation always turns to sex. It seems inevitable when the 3 of us get together that we wind up in detailed conversation about the craziest shit. And we wouldn’t want it any other way. Thank god Melanie isn’t one of those people who can only talk about her baby, and our conversations haven’t been toned down in any way. (Neither has she for that matter, and for that we are all grateful.)

But I digress – we were talking about sex.

Screw the stereotype that men talk about sex more than women or the antiquated idea of “locker room talk” – most of the women I know love to talk about their sex lives more than any of the men I know. And I have news for you, guys – we share detailed information with each other. Detailed. Information. We’re in the trust tree, and if you can’t talk to your best girlfriends about nipple clamps or sex-induced UTI’s  or what went wrong the last time you attempted anal, who CAN you talk to?

So I was asking about Melanie’s sex life after the baby and the conversation turned to our partners’ specific preferences. Melanie has never been lacking in the boob department, but now that she’s breastfeeding her cups runneth over. Like, a lot. They’re huge. And she was saying how her husband has always been “a boob man” and now that she puts Pamela Anderson to shame, he’s enjoying them even more. That’s his “thing” – the visual of her tits just does it for him.

This of course led into me sharing that it’s the reverse in my house. Gil appreciates my G cups, sure. They never want for attention. But he is “an ass man” through and through. He can’t get enough of my butt. And can I just say, there is plenty of it to go around. But for him, that’s the visual. That’s the thing that really revs his engine. I would even tell you that if I could get a silicone replica of my butt made for him to snuggle with (or whatever) when I’m gone, he would be all over it, pun definitely intended.

It got me thinking though, it’s so common for us women to categorize our male partners as either “ass men” or “boob men” because so many of them really have a distinct hot button, but there is no equivalent the other way around.

It’s not like Gil is sitting around with his friends saying, “Yeah man, Courtney appreciates my dick but she really can’t get enough of my balls. She’s totally a ball woman.”

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I AM a ball woman. But I’m also an ass woman, a lip woman, a tongue woman, a strong hands woman and a deep brown eyes woman. There is not one aspect of him that turns me on above everything else. It’s all a package deal.

When Natasha or Melanie are talking about their hottest sexual encounters, they’re not telling me things like, “Oh, I was in heaven with his balls just bouncing above my face. I almost came just looking at them.” I mean, good on ya if that’s what does it for you; whatever gets you to the big O is a win and not something I would judge – trust tree, remember? And the sight of our men does certainly turn us on. But I don’t think it’s the same for us in a visual sense when it comes to one specific body part, which is really interesting to me.

I know it’s different for every person and every couple, but it’s the term, “He’s a _____ man” that has become such common vernacular in our society. When Melanie tells me her husband is a boob man, I don’t bat an eye and I immediately understand what she’s talking about. If her husband turned to one of his friends and commented that she was totally a scrotum woman, I think he’d definitely get some very confused looks and a thorough grilling.

Some would definitely argue that it’s a sign of how much women are objectified and looked at as “things”, while the same is not really true of men. And I suppose I would agree with that to a certain extent. But for me, at the end of the day it is so nice to have a partner who is so vocally and physically expressive of his appreciation for my body, I don’t mind it one bit. I guess I don’t find that kind of objectification to be a problem if it’s coming from the person I love. Quite the opposite actually – I revel in it.

I’m fortunate enough to have a partner who is constantly telling me how beautiful I am, and how much he loves my body. One who walks into the kitchen just to grab my ass, or try to slide down my yoga pants if he can get away with it (he totally can). As someone who has really struggled with my weight over the last few years and who is still at odds with my own body and self-acceptance, I could not ask for anything more.

So maybe I should be objectifying HIM a little more, and start commenting more on how good his butt looks in his pants, or reaching over and giving his balls a little squeeze when no one’s watching and reminding him how much they drive me wild. If it’s as much of a confidence boost for him as it is for me, then shame on me for not doing more of it sooner.

I feel an experiment coming on…