Every once in a blue moon I end up having sex. This could be because I feel such a strong connection with somebody we end up plugging our tails together and having uncomfortable-to-watch-with-your-mom Avatar sex and it’s so spiritual and special. Mostly it’s because I have remembered to use the NEW razor, shave the back of my thighs, wear the Spanx and this whiskey has made you ‘we’ve already hung out at least three times’ cuter. Sex is something I technically enjoy because I’m human and if you plug a chord into an outlet, the light goes on, okay? However, sex is kind of also like nachos to me: there is the gluey half-melted cheese with a sour cream bomb nachos and there is the bubbly genius with the extra guacamole nachos. As in don’t pound me like you are the tree to a dog who hasn’t been neutered yet. I have standards, you know. Even though I would eat a 7-11 sandwich or sleep with Jeremy Renner. Here is my take on a truly perfect sexual experience:

Like me. I mean, we don’t have to be married but you should probably think my incessant desire to overaccessorize is cute. I am not just a foxhole to stick your soldiers in, so enjoy all of my glorious and horrifying attributes. Don’t have a soul patch. Also, wash your crotch. It’s just polite! Don’t be too drunk. That being said, you should have at least two drinks under your belt. Not tequila, because I’m not going to have sex under the influence of tequila. We’re not in Cabo, I don’t want to VISIT Cabo, and sometimes I drink tequila and I vomit all of my stomach contents out. Which would probably be sexy if I were Penelope Cruz but I’m not. Don’t stare at my underwear, take it off! I’m going to level with you here: I don’t wear the fancy shit. My bra and panties will not match. There is underwire, there is no lace, and I have this one pair I really like that says ‘sleep now, study later’ even though I’m a graduate and don’t STUDY anymore at all. Just take it off! Just take it off because underwear is expensive and lace underwear is very chafing! Let me get the bra, though. I understand that’s hard. Don’t yank it off. Take it off. Politely, and with great mutual respect. No slobber or edible underwear. Is edible underwear made of Fruit-Roll Up? I sure hope so. Tell me how awesome my body is. Hey, pal. Not everybody gets to see this Adonis statue naked as Kate Winslet in a lot of her movies. I wouldn’t even think about posing for Playboy: The Four-Eyed Babes of Plaid Shirts issue. Be so excited you get to see these somewhat smooth thighs, capiche? Keep the music off! I don’t want to have sex to your crappy songs, I don’t want to pace my pelvic thrusts to Boyz II Men, although now that I just said that it sounds kind of awesome. Condom. COME ON. If you and I had a baby, we’d probably have to talk about the state of our relationship now, which is just something I don’t want to do. I’d prefer to just simply tell my friends ‘i’m just going to see where things go’ and probably never look you in the eye until you stop responding to my texts. No creepy scheming babies in my small apartment! Shut up. I’m not here to talk about if I ‘fucking LIKE THAT’ and if I’m your nasty princess and you’re the dirty mailman or whatever. Keep it between 1-5 words at a time. If you need to speak more, write a paper and mail it to Reader’s Digest in the harmless and gentle funny jokes section. You know the one, it’s right before the black bean soup recipe and the story of some guy who lost his WASP arm. FOREPLAY. For god’s sakes, get your hand dirty! Not dirty. I mean, I’m clean. Just use your hands, and not like you are trying to type a paper in thirty minutes, either. As in calm down, slow down, kind of like how I imagine LL Cool J might be. No hamstring stretching positions. I understand that putting my foot over my back head and twisting my spine 90 degrees to the sky might look really good when you are watching incognito porn on your Mac (clean your keyboards, gentleman), but all it does to me is make me realize I should stretch before I run. Or like, move from my couch. Or maybe take the stairs sometimes. It hurts and I’m going to pretend to like it but really I’ll just think ‘how long can this last? He’s going to slip out soon, right?’ The turtle and the hare was a great fable that taught me all rabbits are assholes, but don’t have sex like either of those animals. Dim lights. Not on because my sex faces are gross but in low lighting they are probably less gross. Maybe in dim light I look like Russell Brand! However, the lights can never be totally off because I need to find where your thing goes in the other thing. I get lost sometimes. Things I like: light hair pulling but I’m not really looking for a bald spot here. Giggling isn’t bad. Kissing doesn’t hurt. If you want to tell me I’m pretty, you must have a shrine for me created out of troll dolls, my high school photograph, Furby beaks, and chocolate bunnies. As for actual intercourse, be creative! You know, like in elementary school art class when you had to make masks and did I mention doggy style is NOT creative. Let me keep my bra on sometimes. Let’s do it not on the bed tonight, because I don’t want my sheets to smell like musty gym socks. Do stuff that makes me do a very unattractive kind of squeal thing. Don’t say my name (Onana what’s my name?) like, every three second because it’s weird. Don’t secretly tape it. Don’t mind if think about Don Draper.  Don’t worry, I’m not faking it, lol! Cut your nails! Hope you’re not too sweaty! Shh! Not TOO LOUD. Sorry about that noise, I swear that was the mattress. Are you done yet? Do you like this? Can we maybe hang out this weekend? Is your dog in the room? Don’t ask a lot of questions, this isn’t a survey! DO I MAKE YOU HORNY, BABY?! ALSO DONT LEAVE ME EVER JKJK If you’re going to ask for something weird in bed tell me beforehand. Don’t spring it on me three shebanging minutes in and inform me ‘so I like to wear a bunny suit and you have to call me Sparkles now.’ 25 minutes, four minutes afterwards in that awkward ‘well I guess we’re sweaty but we have to hold each other’ bullshit. I got things to do. What do you think I am, NOT BUSY?! I’m not really that busy, but my show’s on and I gotta pee. HAVE FUN, GODSPEED.