We Don't Want to Hear - or Read - About Your Sex Life!
We've got bigger fish to fry, thank you very much
Let us say it again:
We don’t want to hear about your sex life.
We don’t want to hear about how you found the love of your life and he pleases you for hours on end, making you scream and holler till the cows come home.
We have emails to answer and figuring out Instagram is taking a lot longer than we anticipated.
We also don’t want to hear about how said lover has a magical tongue that can be in two places at once — the sweet spot and the “G” spot while you take him in your mouth and drive him wild and crazy.
We have to bring canned goods over to the local food bank before they close so the nutritionally challenged folks in our little town will be able to just plain eat. You know, food.
And we certainly don’t want earful after earful about how you made the Guinness Book for World Records for multiple orgasms. Also, we certainly don’t want to see the bronze cast dildo trophy you had made for yourself, or what you do with it when it’s not center stage on your mantle.
We’re busy dusting our own bowling, tennis, and Scrabble trophies stuck on our mantles for lo these many years.
We’re sorry. We don’t even want to hear about your solo sex life.
We don’t want to hear how you write vibrator reviews and recommendations for Consumer Reports or the goo gobs of greenbacks that’s netted you. We have a pretty good idea where those funds were re-invested.
Nope. We don’t have time for such trivial pursuits. We’ve got pink and baby blue booties to knit for the grandbabies on their way, and yellow and lavender afghans to crochet for the summer baby shower season already in full swing.
And quite frankly, we very much disdain hearing about all the other ways you’ve found for self-stimulation. All the firm, unripe red and yellow fruits and green and purple vegetables that made it from your garden to your boudoir or even the adventures of your magical multi-faceted green thumb.
Too bad they will never get eaten in the proper way. Do you realize how many vital phytonutrients you’re missing out on?
Besides, we have a bumper crop of bush beans to harvest and can, which takes up where the knitting and crocheting leave off, keeping us busy ‘til summer’s end.
But if you have some leftover, untouched, uninserted zucchini, we’ll be glad to add it to muffins and breads for the annual Pink Ribbon Breast Cancer Bake-Off & Bazaar.
Do us a favor, Darling, and please note that we don’t really ever want to hear about your tattoos, body piercings, and/or what you’ve done to your nipples. Our boobs are still aching from the last time.
And finally — pay attention will you, Honey — we’re darned if we need to hear for the umpteenth time how you took a pole dancing class, lost twenty pounds, and then gained ten back while turning fat into muscle. Nor do we need to see the pictures of you climbing with your now big, strong legs wrapped around said pole wearing a doily tied on with shoelaces.
We can still use our imaginations just so you know.
But if you ever fall off that pole, give us a call. We can make some comfrey compresses which, along with some arnica, can help with bruising. Healing the bruises, we mean. And no, we don’t mean to be mean. We just don’t want to hear about your sex life ever again. Thank you very much! Are we clear, now, Sweetie?
P.S. Don’t drop that heavy thing on your toes while dusting, Dearie. That’s beyond comfrey’s comfort zone.
I couldn't have said it better🙃