Sex intrigues me. It does. Wait, let me rephrase that – the kind of sex that specially comes with emotional tags, intrigues me. To no end.
Most people these days come with some sort of iRobot button that automatically switches off their emotional side when in the urgent need to screw. Also, whoa, can we talk about how much sex has evolved? Bad, bad, naughty 2017. This magic button I’m talking about is called alcohol/drugs. You take sufficient amount of it and you are a human robot. Just like that, all emotions shut down. It used to be amazing, from what my cool elderly neighbor tells me. Sex used to be called making love.
Some of y’all will tell me that it’s still called that, but how many kids today talk about it like it means something? Go on, I’ll wait while you go find out. Even when you’re in bed with someone after having tested the potency of several Margaritas on an empty freaking stomach, all he will tell you is, “Baby, I want to fuck.” Not one time will you hear him say, “Let’s make sweet love.” Cheesy as that sounds, I’d be real happy if someone came up with that instead of just mindlessly doing it. I think the sweet love trend died with that You Make me Wanna song by Blue way back in 2013, when I was barely pubescent. Wow. My whole generation and the next and the next are all screwed up.
Speaking of which, did you know that young girls barely in their teens are already doing it? Innocence doesn’t exist anymore, at least that’s what I feel like. The other day some girl posted a video of herself stripping butt naked and caressing herself – she couldn’t have been more than thirteen – on social media! And it showed up on my explore page. Like, what the actual fuck. Somebody step up and stop this madness, for Lord’s sake: it’s driving me nuts!!
I think this is also the reason why men assume away to glory about what women want. Not cool, people, not cool.