Sex with Rihanna: How amazing? An investigation

Sex to Rihanna's "Sex with Me": Good idea? Great idea? Or worst idea?

Sex to Rihanna's "Sex with Me": Good idea? Great idea? Or worst idea?

You want to have sex with Rihanna.

This is an undeniable truth of the world in which we live. The literal goddess born Robyn Fenty transcends gender and sexuality. Including mine. I like men, but Rihanna’s Rihanna.

And, I repeat, you want to have sex with her. It’s a known fact.

We at City Pages are dedicated to taking a hard look at the more intricate nuances of modern culture, sometimes delving deeply into investigative stories to bring you the capital ‘N’ News. This week, that means a timely and relevant close listen of “Sex With Me,” a bonus track off of the deluxe release Rihanna’s 2016 album ANTI.

We are here now to answer, for you specifically, the most pressing question of our time: Should you, or should you not, have sex to “Sex With Me?”

The answer may shock you.



The biggest hurdle to enjoying sex to “Sex with Me” is the hard-to-face reality that you are not actually having sex with Rihanna. Imagine: you’re having moderately enjoyable intercourse, maybe to TLC’s “Red Light Special,” and everything’s going how (and where) it should. Suddenly, the fading chorus “baby, it’s yours/if you want it tonight” skips right into Rihanna, belting, “Sex with me, so amazing.”

Wait. You’re not having sex with Rihanna. Are you? You check. Nope. Imagine the extreme disappointment in this discovery.

You immediately spiral into wondering whether or not the sex you’re having is amazing. It might be, but it’s unlikely it’s as amazing as if it were with Rihanna.


It’s ok. You regain your focus. The rhythm is perfect for sex. Not so slow one of you lulls into a coma, but also not so fast to promote horrible rabbit sex that doesn’t even last the duration of the song. (Three minutes, 26 seconds, if you’re counting.) Her smooth vibes surge into you, awakening every fiber. Your skin is electrified.

The chorus is magical and sort of aggressive, like incredible lovemaking relations always are. You’re really feeling the other person/people/real doll(s) in bed/on the floor/in an airport restroom with you. Perfection.

Rihanna croons “stay up off my Instagram, pure temptation,” and the electronic pulsing washes over you and colors your entire world in the Valencia filter. It’s sun-kissed bliss.


Then come the verses. Talk about a world-shattering moment. You discover that maybe you’ve been doing sex wrong this whole time. The first verse opens “vodka and water, and a lemon/and a few other things I cannot mention.”

You have so many questions.

First of all, knowing the full range of Rihanna’s discography as you do, you realize you can’t name a single nasty thing that HASN’T appeared in a Lady Rih song. From eating ass to literally murdering someone for the money they owe her, it doesn’t seem like much is off-limits.

So… WHERE IS THE LEMON GOING, Rihanna? Wouldn’t it sting? Are we drinking the vodka or pouring it all over our bodies on the private beach of your $22 million home in Barbados?

What kind of vodka is it? God, I hope it’s not Ciroc.

Your focus is completely shattered.


You shake your head, change positions, and glide back into the chorus from the line “Imma get it wet like a Jacuzzi.” You have a strange thought.

Maybe in some parallel universe, you could have sex with Rihanna. In fact, maybe in that alternate reality you’re having sex with Rihanna right now — now that would be “so amazing,” so amazing, mmmm. Truly there are great mysteries in this world. And whether or not this universe’s Rihanna would even deign to share the same oxygen as you is the foremost.


At this point, you’re on the second verse. And pretty shaken.

I mean, you still haven’t finished Stranger Things, so it’s impossible to fully understand the possibility of alternate universes. (What is the Upside Down? And has Rihanna already done it?)

The second verse opens: “You know I got the sauce/You know I'm saucy/And it's always wet, a bitch never ever had to use lip gloss on it.” Rihanna, that’s not where lip gloss goes!

For god’s sake, Robyn, you’re rich. Invest in some Astroglide.

Then it dawns on you: maybe you’re incredible at sex and Rihanna is bad at sex? It’s the classic “I’m actually really good at math; you’re kind of bad at math” Cady Heron/Aaron Samuels switcheroo from Mean Girls.

This seems highly unlikely to you in retrospect. But in the throes of passion a lot of illogical things seem to make sense. What a roller coaster.

Luckily, the song slides into its final third, mostly devoid of words.

They’re replaced by various echoing “amazing”s, “mmms” and “ahhs.” The moment relaxes into a sensory tour of your own body.

The high-hat helps you find your rhythm again, as she whispers, “This is the best there is.” Thank Aphrodite this song is coming to a close and you can resume making the beast with two backs to some other unthreatening, non-distracting 90s R&B jam.

The Verdict:

No, you should not have sex to “Sex With Me.” It's too much for you, for any of us mortals. We are all too fragile to handle the diverse and unstoppable sexuality of Rihanna.

Might I instead suggest “Skin?”