After…

Now I know what you people are thinking… “after what?” Well, I think whether you want to admit it or not, you know what “after” I’m referring to. Some people go for a cigarette, others go for coffee, and some of us just stay in bed and let the awkward “after” conversation wash over us.

Now I know what most of you are thinking. I know, it’s weird to think of me as a sexual being. It’s weird for me too. I’m sure it’s an odd thing for my sexual partners as well… but I’ll keep the Sex and the City talk to a minimum.

But here’s the thing. So, ya know, there’s… the act, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after? I mean, do you stay in bed? Do you shower?

Because maybe it’s just the Catholic thing, but my first instinct is to shower… you know, cuz sex is dirty? But I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to stick around and cuddle or something like that. I’ve never been good at cuddling, but I’ve never given it much of a shot.

No, I much prefer to just continue on as it never happened, but every so often, you get stuck in the awkward “after” conversation. You know the one. “So what are your plans for the day?” “Thanks” and just about any other awkward, insincere, and generic platitude that comes to mind in the post-sex haze.

What is it about the act of sex that makes people think they hafta pretend to be interested in your well-being? See, I like to spice up the conversation a little, ya know, keep ’em on their toes.

Possible topics of conversation?
“Do robots with artificial intelligence feel feelings?”
“If you could be any animal, what animal would you be?”
“Who would win in a fight, transgender Joseph Stalin or morbidly obese Adolf Hitler?”

needless to say, I don’t do the whole “after” conversation very well.
Yeah, that could be why I don’t have a lotta people call me back…

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