But back to the stats. If you've slept with 10 women, then at least four of those faked it while you were off jackhammerin' away and sweating everywhere. Those four weren't into it. Those four were doing one or more of the following.
1. Counting The Shit In The Room
If your sexual excitement level in the bedroom could be described as “Mister Rogers' Neighborhood,” or if your idea of a good time is having her lay there and have at it like she's a warmer, less inflatable blowup doll, then she probably spent that 30 seconds of “sex” you had counting the stuff around her. For example, a while back I'd just moved into a new house and wound up having awful, awful sex. The only consolation was that I'd turned the lights of right before, so at least I didn't have to look at him. So I'm laying there looking around, and lo and behold whoever'd lived in my room before me had put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling! Imagine how not-exciting that fact is, and then imagine yourself being humped by a beluga whale and trying to find something to distract yourself with. In other words, it was like being a homeless kid that finds a Sega Dreamcast in a dumpster. You don't know what you're gonna do with it, you probably can't do much, but fuckall at least it's something.
You know that feeling when you get a text and you don't know who it's from yet? And you're like “WHOA hold up, that text could be from ANYBODY! My Mom, the mailman, my roommate's hot cousin, President Obama, WHO KNOWS?!!” Now I'm fully aware that the President is more likely to text me than that hot cousin (…WHY DO YOU REJECT MY LOVE), but the point is that until you open it, you don't know what it is. It could be important, it could be one of those automated texts from Pizza Hut that basically confirm you're a sad lonely person because there's more of those in your inbox than real people, or it could be a fucking knock-knock joke from that annoying uncle who isn't actually funny but still tries. The point is, if you don't open it in at least 10 seconds your head is going to explode from all the curiosity building up. And before you say “Nuh uh that never happens!,” think about the fact that if you're on top of her, that her arms are probably around your back. If she can reach her phone don't leave her hands alone.
Let's not kid ourselves, we spend the majority of the day figuring out what we're going to eat at our next meal. It doesn't matter how healthy you are or if you spend 23 out of 24 hours of the day at the gym, you're still thinking “Well I have those leftovers I need to eat before they go bad but I could also just eat cheese fries…” Just because you're sucking on a limp dick or sticking your dick into a half-moist vagina doesn't mean food isn't a priority. You know how many times I've woken up in the morning just to be asked if I'm hungry and then had my hand unsubtly placed on a dick? Har har, so funny, except now I'm laying there wondering if I want spaghetti or a grilled cheese for lunch. It's even worse if you're about to go out on a date night and end up having sex beforehand, because the chances of me being into it versus me wondering about what I'm going to order from Bertucci's and whether or not I'm going to eat an entire appetizer to myself aren't even by any stretch of the imagination.
4. Every Single Thing About You Is Awful.
When sex is great, the person you're fucking is great. It doesn't matter if he's 80 pounds overweight, has chunks of leftover taco meat stuck in the beard he hasn't shaved since he was 15, or has those weird oversized nipples that cover 70% of his moobs and look more like surgically attached pancakes. As long as it's good, you can overlook how disgusting whoever's banging you is. But when it's bad….you're basically Hitler. I don't care if Joseph Gordon-Levitt is railing me out from behind, if the sex is lame then his smile goes from suave to annoyingly cocky, his hair from being impeccably groomed to looking like he's a goddamn try hard, and his stylish clothes? Uh, no. It's like that thing where you like someone, you like someone, and then the moment you don't you start to wonder how many fingers he's had stuck up his butt during foreplay and you get grossed out and just wanna roll over and go to sleep. That's definitely a thing and not just me.
5. Oh Shit…I Took My Tampon Out, Right?
Probably the worst thing in the world is having really, really awesome foreplay and then going from a 10/10 to a -5/10 in the bedroom. It's like having 1 stock left in Super Smash Brothers and being at 0% with your opponent at 100%, then walking off the edge and dying because you were too busy gloating. When this happens you realize that you completely forgot about all the normal rituals you typically do beforehand. Toilet paper for cleanup next to the bed? Nope, not there. Door locked in case roommates try to walk in? Come on in, the door's wiiiide open. Took that tampon out?
Wait…no. I didn't. Did I?
Was I wearing one?
And then the entire time you're laying there wondering if you're going to need to go to the hospital to have some poor intern fist your vagina to yank out a mushed up tampon. But that's too embarrassing, so instead you wonder how you're going to ask whoever's porkin' you to stick his hand up there and fish around for gold. Isn't that a lovely way to end things? “Hey, are you done? Yes? Can you try to find a tampon in my vagina, I can't remember if I had one when we started fucking. No I'm not kidding. No you don't need a flashlight, fuck you.”
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