Have you ever noticed that the people who talk about their sex lives with excruciating details are the people you never want to picture naked? The people where genetics didn’t quite work out for them.
...You know, the sexually over-active band geeks, girls with small boobs, Spencer Pratt, girl who gives too much head, the beached whales of LA, boys who wear Ed Hardy belt- buckles, me, Snooki, the list really just goes on and on.
We get it. You’ve had a penis inside of you at one point in your life (or vise versa). But let’s talk about something that I can really believe you did, like those felt posters of unicorns you colored on your walls or how you just picked chip crumbs out of your bellybutton.
There’s a reason people call it a “private life.” So that way icky people don’t feel bad having to lie to themselves and their “friends” about their “sex lives.” And no, eating chocolate is not technically “sex in your mouth.” So stop telling me about it.
But it never fails. I hear all the lies, all the unsettling details, and I smile and nod hoping that the constant back and forth movement of my neck will keep the vomit down.
“And then he put my legs…”
“That’s a bold face lie. Your body is physically inept to do that position.”
Do you see the picture I’m painting for you? I’m calling her fat!
Yet, everyone loves to talk to me about sex, ( I can’t imagine why) and I’ll pretend to listen.
...But when you re-describe the “shower sex” you had with your also gigantic boyfriend for the 17th time all I can think about is that line where your ass meets your thigh and flaps over.