Christy and I have been friends forever. Well, we’re both 38 this year and we’ve known each other since we were 5 so that gives you a rough idea of how well we get on. If my life is in the shitter and Christy shows up, then there’s no amount of bs that I can dish out that would ever convince her of anything other than the truth: that my life is in the shitter. It’s just like that with us. She’ll be all oh hey! and I’ll be all oh hey and she’ll be like how’s it going? and I’ll be like oh totally great! and then she’s like no. It’s actually not, and don’t waste my time.
So we have a lot of memories, Christy and I, right? Totally. But one of the best conversations we had was when we talked about the Hurried Orgasm. Because most times in life we’re able to just enjoy sex, you know? We can light candles, make out, play music, shave our legs, not have farts or bloating, the kids all have the flu, are medicated and have passed out for the
week night, and it’s game fucking ON. We can get through the whole Drake album before we even get there.
But for most parents, we know all about the Hurried Orgasm. It’s the one where the kids are probably not asleep (eating ice cream in the family room while watching a show that is above their age-rating), and we haven’t had sex in days or weeks and we NEED TO GET IT ON. So we sneak upstairs, cross our fingers and toes and get it done faster than the 100m Olympic world record before a kid (or 6) walks in and sees mommy and daddy doing bed yoga with our bare white asses in the air.
Andrew and I will be going at it and in the meantime, I’m running a 5 hour marathon. But if his phone rings, or if I know school is over and one of the kids will be home or if Callum is whimpering in his crib or… or… well, then? All of a sudden I’m being held captive, handcuffed, covered in tar and feathers, suppressed, repressed, dominated while dominating, suppressing, repressing covering Andrew in tar and feathers, handcuffing and holding him captive like a vagina queen.
The End. I hear a child approaching.
What’s your imagination station when you need a Hurried Orgasm? TELL THE TRUTH.
If you’d rather not tell the whole entire audience of Suzy Has the Runs about your personal sex life, then here’s a question for you: How fast can you run 100m? 😉