I recently delivered a sex towel without using my hands. I’m one creative mo-fo, if I must say so myself. Don’t picture it in your mind. It was done to amuse, not to titillate. I relied on vodka to perform the titillation. And–lest you be as deluded as I often am–it was a hand towel, not a bath sheet.
We need more humor in the bedroom.
You know that minute right after release where you both lie still and think of something to say while your heartbeats-per-minute subside? That’s where we all could use a little help. It’s precarious because your choice of words can be your undoing. Since we can’t all have Bill Maher standing by feeding us post-coital lines, here are some you can memorize for future reference.
- Wow, that was amazing.
- I think I pulled a ball/labia muscle.
- *sigh, blink, blink*
- Jesus, woman/man, you sure are flexible.
- Thanks, I needed that.
- I see rainbows and unicorns.
- Can I get you a bottle of water?
- I guess all those lunges paid off.
- You are so hot.
- You didn’t even notice my Superman boxers, did you?
- Don’t move, stay right there. I’ll fetch a moist towelette.
- Ow, fuck, I have a toe cramp.
- I hope you know CPR.
Don’t say this:
- You are on the pill, right?
- Is gratuity included?
- Gee, would you look at the time?
- So, can I call you sometime?
- Did you catch the score of the Yankees game?
- Would you mind if I showered?
- Whose underwear are these?
- What was your name again?
- I think I’m going to be sick.
- Are those tears of joy or sadness?
- Hand me my phone. I need to tweet something.
- How’d I do, on a scale of one to ten?
It’s silence at its most awkward. I often cringe, not only from the mess I made or friction burns but also from the anticipation of severe criticism or adulation. Ejaculate disposal seems to be the most troubling. If a condom is involved, who removes it? Is the open end tied in a knot? (I’m skilled at doing that, from all my years of bagging leaves and making balloon animals.) Is the condom wrapped in TP and placed in the toilet-side waste receptacle or flushed? If the pullout method was employed, and the sprayee lies there paralyzed while a tickling drip of semen navigates toward those pristine sheets, who fetches the ShamWow? The sprayer does. Is the towel handed to the victim or does the man do “wax on, wax off” with it? Is it OK for him to wipe down his hose before handing over the towel? (No.)
When making an internal deposit, which I am finally free to do, I’m always slightly miffed when the brave woman immediately skedaddles to the half-bath to unload. It’s exceptionally disturbing when I hear my fluids hit the water, a la bin Laden.
So much to consider. I guess this is why it’s best to be intoxicated, pass out upon completion, and skip the press conference.