Stop Lying to Yourself: Sex Edition

This is sex, people. It’s no place for self-deception.

1) Mental Adultery

Your partner is thinking about other people while you fuck.


It’s a fact of life. Why would they think about you? You’re right there in front of them. They already snagged you. They are now fantasizing about territories untrodden – Angelina Jolie, or Helen of Troy, or a warm Krispy Kreme. And really, what is so terrible about that? Are you honestly going to sit there and pretend that every time you have sex, your mind is focused solely and unwavering on your beloved partner? Of course not. Sometimes you’re fantasizing about Mila Kunis. Or Dwayne Johnson. It doesn’t mean you love your partner any less. It’s just that, well, mama needs to cum, and if a vision of having a threesome with Rachel Evan Wood and Marilyn Manson is what gets you there, then a little fantasizing every now and then isn’t gonna hurt anyone.

2) Pulling Out

The pullout method does not work to prevent pregnancy.

Even if you could time it perfectly so that the man’s penis is fully removed from your body by the time he ejaculates, it wouldn’t do you any good, since pre-cum fluids can also contain sperm – virile, ambitious sperm. He would basically have to pull out as soon as he got aroused.

And honestly, why is pulling out more fun than wearing a condom? Both of them are less than ideal, but one involves panicking just as things are starting to get really good, and one doesn’t. Just put on a condom and quit bitching. Plus, condoms help prevent STDs!

3) Looking Good

You look like a monstrous beast when you fuck.


I don’t care if you’re Jessica Alba. Unless you are a porn star, you look like shit when you’re having sex. Your hair is a sweaty mess with a thick matted tangle wherever it is rubbing the pillow. Your mouth is ajar like you’re some sort of mouth-breathing idiot, and you’re making little animal grunting noises through your open maw. Your boobs are pointing different directions. Your stomach is akimbo, folded in on itself in rolls of flesh. Your thighs are slapping against your partner’s with a wet, meaty sound. Your spider veins are throbbing and pulsing in your translucent, pearly thighs.

And it’s okay. It’s natural. If you still look perfect when you’re boning, you’re probably concentrating way harder on keeping up appearances than you are on having fun. And if your partner notices what your stretch marks look like while they’re fucking you, they too are not having any fun. So don’t worry about what you look like. Don’t slather yourself with makeup before a tryst. Don’t do your hair. You’re just gonna end up looking like Courtney Love.

4) Vaginal Orgasms

Most people don’t have vaginal orgasms.


It has been suggested that at least 70% of women require clitoral stimulation to have an orgasm. Don’t feel like you’re broken if you can’t orgasm without it. Don’t let anyone tell you that you are too “dependent” on your clitoris and you’re just not trying hard enough. Studies of the fabled “G-spot,” or a small knob of erectile tissue located in the front wall of the vagina, reveal that not only is it an almost impossibly place to reach, but many women have a smaller spot or don’t have one at all, and most people don’t like the pressure that its stimulation puts on their bladder. If clitoral stimulation is your thing, then keep on keepin’ on, girl.

5) “Sexy” Cocks

Cocks are not innately attractive.


Can we please stop with this whole myth? “Ooh, he had such a nice cock.” No, he didn’t. He had a veiny, hairy fleshstick poking out the front of his loins. Dicks are not attractive. They look like partially shorn weasels. I don’t want my romance novel spoiled by a three-page description of the color, length, and shape of his “member.”

Straight girls like penises because they go inside us and give us pleasure (sometimes). We also like them because they are attached to men we like. These men sometimes have other features that are nice-looking; they may have muscular shoulders, or long eyelashes, or white teeth. But there is no need to pretend that every attractive man has a miniature version of himself between his legs. He has a floppy, pink, hilarious appendage. And the only one I can appreciate is the one belonging to someone I love. So please, enough with Christian Gray’s pork sword. I don’t want to heard it.


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