Does anyone else find it ironic that a guy’s morals can take a holiday as soon as he gets offered a beer or a puff of weed, but the minute I ask him to take off his pants, nope, can’t do that, bad??? I’m afraid to say anything to him about it because he complimented my patience just the other day - “this is pretty scary for me, you see…”
If I ever find out who first equated sex with morality I’m going to piss on his grave.
(And his best buddy came over last night, and I still find myself really attracted to this guy. This is NOT helping things.)
My memory of my adolescence (or even young adulthood) is that I would have had hot monkey sex (I love that phrase) with a pine tree if it had a knothole at the right level and the wind hit it so I thought it was waving at the right time. The only thing that saved my putative “virtue” was the fact that I am big, fat, ugly, and incredibly socially maladroit.
I suspect the fact my phiz can break mirrors at twenty paces saved me from a lot of STDs before marriage. Mind you, I have no idea in the world what my wife saw in me, but I’m glad I snookered her.
