do you love your monkey or do you love me?

A new study has been released that finds male macaque monkeys pay for sex by grooming female macaques they then have sex with. The study reports that the longer a male tends to the grooming tasks of a female, the more sex they'll engage in when the number of females in the group is lower.

A true testament to that whole "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," idea. Except they're not so much scratching backs as they are plucking bugs out of the other's hair, but a turn on nonetheless, I'm sure.

I read about this study in the newspaper over the weekend and it got me thinking about a couple things. First, how come there's funding and research time spent on learning something I, you, or even a monkey could learn from an hour spent watching Animal Planet (though, truth be told as gleaned from another study, monkeys would grab the remote with their amazing human-like hands and turn to the Spice Channel for some porn. Oh sure, if monkeys could talk, they'd be all "We don't do porn! Not us! Uh uh!" But they ain't fooling me or anyone. Monkeys are TOTALLY about the porn).

The second thing this study made me wonder about is this: how do I get my husband to be more of a male macaque? I'm not talking about picking creepy crawlies out of the raging mane of hotness or gnawing on my fingernails, but rather a full blown, make me promise you nasty things foot rub? It's not like I'm swinging around the house from room to room on some dried up old monkey paws. A little lotion, a bit of squeeze on my pressure points, and we're talking a potential round trip ticket. He enjoys sex. I enjoy foot rubs. Win win.

It's a proven fact (minus a costly, time-consuming study, ladies and gentleman!) that a stunningly executed massage at the nimble hands of an older and caring woman (there's some monkey porn for ya!) gets me purring like a tiger (no findings on what turns tigers on. yet.), so I'm quite sure I'd go full blown chimp scream on my husband if he decided to to kick up the action with a some foreplay techniques picked up from our simian friends. I'd probably eat a banana for him (wink, wink).

This study also got me wondering if I'm actually more male macaque then I realized. Because I spend a lot of time pondering what type of monkey I am. Don't we all? If we just admitted it, then we all could fess up to how we like the porn, monkey style.

Sure, I'm not really a male macaque (but if I were, you'd be all, "Damn! Monkeys can type good, too!") , but I'm insane for the picking and exploring that my husband allows me to (make that "resigns himself") do on him. I LOVE picking at my husband, even though it has yet seem to lead to hot monkey lovin'. OMG. Had I met him when we were teenagers and he had a raging case of acne, he'd have thought the way I climbed on him to get up near his face was just to make out, but I'd have been inspecting the potential pustules for popping. While there, I'd have blown in his ear. Not just to convey my raging lust. No. More to release any flakes or buildup stowing away in his canal.

The man, bless him, tolerates the picking and flicking. Come to think of it, there may be a point during sex when things do switch into the hot monkey lovin'. He's got a mole on his back that, when my hands graze over it, I stop whatever it is I'm doing (wink, wink) and give it a flick or five. Just thinking about that gets me kinda in the mood for a banana. I would so go all Jane Goodall on the man. We could totally play 'Primatologist and the Giant Silverback Gorilla".

Finally, I'll admit that I have spent some time considering what type of monkey I'd be, and I've decided that, clearly, I'd be an orangutan. Why?

Raging mane of hotness, of course!

That revelation comes to you minus a lengthy study. Science is amazing!