Does This Sex Column Make My Ass Look Fat #4

It’s been awhile since I’ve taken on the terrible sex advice given in glossy women’s magazines, but Max Booth III called in sick this week and I wasn’t about to let our readers go without their bi-weekly dose of insanity. Also, I’ve been keeping a binder full of bad sex advice and people are going to stop believing it’s “for my column” if I don’t start writing these again. See, the thing about these mags is – they lure you in by promising you guaranteed orgasms, “sex olympics”, and insights into what “your man” really wants, but they have to get you to look at all the advertisements that keep you feeling like shit and them in business – so they hide the cover stories somewhere in the middle. The result is, anyone interested in their absolutely insane advice has to wade through pages upon pages of the most banal shit they can come up with. I mean, it’s weird that so many of these magazines and similar websites are obsessed with celebrity couples that dress alike, right? I mean, it’s weird that so many celebrity couples dress alike, period, but from one page spread to another the mags can’t decide if it is cute, creepy, or embarrassing (HINT: creepy and embarrassing are not mutually exclusive). What’s been even more fun, and more than a little eye-opening, is scouring Maxim and Men’s Health for the male offenders in the bad-sex-advice game. Fun fact: Maxim has a “Bad Girl Of  The Month Club” and it’s literal bad girls. Like felons. Dudes, free advice here – don’t let yourself cultivate a felon fetish. I’m all for second chances, but if all the women you date are felons, you’re playing a dangerous numbers game. Okay, let’s get to the real reason we’re all here – full throttle unabashed insanity. Ladies – do you sometimes have a hard time getting off? Let Cosmo help… 

DRY HUMP!

You read that right. If you have a hard time “finding the right touch”, Cosmo suggests going back to the ol’ purity ring standby of rubbing your genitals against each other without actually allowing penetration, because nothing gets a woman to ecstasy faster than re-enacting her first hormone driven sexual disappointment. For some reason, the author of the article believes that dry-humping is less awkward than having the woman stimulate herself during real sex, and instead of just feeling sweaty and awkward, your body will “go on autopilot and find a motion that will get you off.”

Dry humping is hugely underrated, probably because it’s called dry humping.

My solution? Look, I’m going to be frank – dry humping is hugely underrated because it sucks. It has an unappealing name because it’s fucking unappealing. Dry humping is what teenagers do when they are too afraid to have sex and are too scared to touch each other’s bathing-suit areas, then gradually becomes what teenagers do before having unsatisfying sex because they don’t understand what foreplay is. Please don’t dry hump. When have the words “dry” and “orgasm” ever been complimentary? Hint: Never.

Mmmmm.... so dry. So sexy.

Mmmmm.... so dry. So sexy.

Make sex a chore!

No, really. Everyone loves chores. I know when I wake up in the morning, I can barely keep my pants on thinking about dusting, paying bills, and unloading the dishwasher. Don’t even get me started on steam-mopping! Isn’t that how everyone feels about chores? No? Running errands and doing chores wears you out? Makes it hard to get into the mood? Well, the obvious solution is to associate sex with chores. It’ll either make doing the chores a lot more fun or make sex feel scheduled, awkward, and dispassionate. It’s probably worth the risk for the slim chance it will result in you REALLY loving to fold laundry, right?

Our life feels like one errand after another, so we’ve started assigning sex acts to errands. His going down on me equals grocery store, so now I love our trips to Whole Foods. -Jen C.

My solution? OH COME THE FUCK ON. The only thing less sexy than sex you are obligated to have is sex you are obligated to have after dealing with the smug motherfuckers who shop at Whole Foods, so just stop it, Jen. No one believes you. Chores are always going to suck – that’s why they’re called “chores” and not “hobbies” or “sex”. Associating sex with chores might make the chores seem worth it for a little while, but after the initial thrill wears off and you know the only reason he’s going down is because he hates folding laundry? You’re going to wish you associated sex with hot tubs or Jenga or something.

Horny yet?

Horny yet?

LAND ON THE NO-FLY LIST!

This one is for all the dudes in the room. Maxim knows you can’t go more than a few hours without some sort of sexual release and they are looking out for you. Not your partner, per se, but definitely you. Kind of. Each issue of Maxim features a series of “how tos” covering everything from chasing tornados to fucking in an airplane bathroom! Send your girlfriend ahead of you, and then wait five minutes or until there is no line (I don’t know what you do if there is a line – how would she know?) let yourself in, sit on the john, fuck really, really fast, and then come out with her feigning sick. It’s so easy, I don’t know why everybody isn’t doing it all the time.

People will be knocking on the door soon enough, so be prepared for a quickie. You can handle that, right?

My solution? Slow your roll, Romeo. There are a few steps Maxim forgot, including the incredibly important preparatory step where you make sure someone hasn’t just gone in and turned the airplane shitter into a gas chamber. Because if you think it’s going to be difficult for your girlfriend to get off in the two and a half minutes you’re giving her, imagine how hard it’s going to be if you both have to deal with the smell of of farts. Changing air pressure does weird things to people’s digestive systems, okay? And here’s a little reminder for those of you who haven’t flown since you were still allowed to smoke on airplanes – air travel is two steps above a fascist police state and that’s only because you have to choose to put yourself in an airport/on an airplane. You can’t bring a bottle of water through security, but you think you’re going to sneak two people into an airplane bathroom (which happens to be right near the galley, where the flight attendants hang out), make a lot of weird noises, and come out sweating — and no one is going to zip tie your hands together and turn you over to Homeland Security upon landing? I hope you enjoy your post-coital cavity search as much as your quickie, because your girlfriend isn’t going to fuck you for a long time after having unsatisfying sex in a shit-smelling lavatory at 34,000 feet and having a terrifying woman strip search her.

Fine! But when we land you're taking me to Whole Foods.

Fine! But when we land you're taking me to Whole Foods.



"Ramblers, let's get rambling" - FDTD