Penis Sitting Bull at the bartering table with Vagina Custer. Think of it as an equal, and hopefully mutually pleasurable, transaction of genitals. (Incidentally: Lily for a girl! Max for a boy!) We don't expect dinner next Saturday. We're not going to nudge you awake the next morning to talk favorite baby names. Look, just remember going into this: If we go home with you from the bar, it's because we want to. Or at least you should obtain explicit permission before being you. Caveat: If "being you" in bed involves knives, small animals, or bodily fluids other than semen, you should probably not be you. It's sex with a stranger-of course you should let your freak flag fly, for the same reason you order a Goliath Strawberry Daiquiri on vacation: Hell, I'm not going to be doing this_ again for a while_! Chances are, she's thinking the same thing. Maybe you saw Knocked Up? Or When Harry Met Syphilis? Like a small hat on an English bulldog.ĭuh. I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure throwing back five shots before trying to put a small, stretchy thing over a big tubey thing (I'm being generous) greatly increases the odds that it winds up hanging on to the tip for dear life. ( Condomdrum?) You want to get that thing on right. A female friend of mine once drank so many whiskey sours working up the nerve to go home with the bartender that she was struck with a historic case of dry mouth, which rendered her kisser about as inviting as a ventriloquist's dummy's.
Too much booze doesn't screw with just the penis, either. If you've made it this far, you don't need it, and it might just be the tipping point to a tragic equipment malfunction. **Skip That Last Shot of Liquid Courage **
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