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I had a friend openly admit the other night that s(h)e was willing to continue a nowheresville relationship. When pressed upon as to why, it was because of fear that they would actually no longer have sex. Under these circumstances, you would think the sex was some sort of mindblowing production that dazzled the senses, tickled the spine, and tingled the nerves.


This person just wanted to continue to have sex. No matter if it was any good, or even enjoyable.

At that point, I said, “Well, you’re just in it for the validation. If that’s all you want, that’s all you’re getting.” Then I went back to watching college basketball.

There was a time when I might have argued passionately to someone about the value of good sex over just sex. That if it isn’t any good, you’re just engaging in glorified Greco-Roman wrestling. Quality over quantity. But after meeting way too many human beings, I just don’t care anymore. People say that sex feels so good, but a lot of people don’t seem to care if it really feels good. It’s almost as if you’re in it to earn a stamp of approval, as if you’re collecting approval more than enjoying an experience in human connection:

“I’m attractive!”

“I’m funny!”

“I’m smart!”

“My workout is beginning to pay off!”

“Having weed available at my house was a good idea!”

“Someone loves this furniture!”

“I smell good!”

Thing is, I’ve always known this, kind of. But I used to fight the good fight for the actual physical pleasure of the act. But essentially crying uncle by taking refuge in Clemson-Villanova means that maybe I’m going to kind of acknowledge that maybe there isn’t anything wrong with that. Yeah, are some people settling for less than a four-orgasm, three-hour session that expands the consciousness in order to prove that their haircut was the right decision? Sure. But maybe that’s the reason you get a better haircut instead of going “hey, a little dandruff never killed anybody.”

So I can’t get mad. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to settle for less than a five-rope classic, but I’m not going to hate on anyone anymore for essentially cuddling, with gravy.


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