Sex and the City
This week I've spent my evenings knitting and renting old seasons of Sex and the City. And let me tell you, yarn is expensive. A scarf worth of velour thread is over $12, but it's worth it since it keeps me off the streets and out of the bars. (I've still only lost 17 lbs and I blame it on Captain and Sprite)
I'm in the middle of season three right now. Miranda (everybody's least favorite New Yorker) got chlmaydia and her doctor suggests she contacts all of her sexual partners to let them know, to stop spreading it around the city.
Yes, I realize chlamydia is curable and in contrast to what you could catch, but she acts like it's just an inconvenience. The girl's been having unprotected sex. Unprotected sex in a city with 6 million people. That's a huge pool of AIDS, herpes, syphilis, chlamydia and the clap (whatever the clap actually is).
What she did make a big deal about, which I thought was pretty normal was her "number."
Forty-two.
No, I am not going to take this opportunity to tell you how much sex (with how many people) that I have actually had, but I will say it's under 42. And yes, I could make a complete list and probably give you at least a first name for every partner. (minus two guys I forgot in college and one "bar guy" with a nice nose)
But by the time I'm in my mid-thirties, I expect to be well over 42. 10+ years is a long time to pass up perfectly satisfying cock in an a weak attempt to prove that I'm not a slut, or in a lame effort to not have to tell a potential husband, which I have yet to meet (and am not especially counting on or even looking forward too), that I could form a small baseball league with my former lovers.
42 in your mid-thirties is sex with a little over 2 people a year. One guy every 6 months.
The show played down a guy requesting that Carrie pee on him, but 42 is suppose to be shocking, or slutty.
Come on
I'm in the middle of season three right now. Miranda (everybody's least favorite New Yorker) got chlmaydia and her doctor suggests she contacts all of her sexual partners to let them know, to stop spreading it around the city.
Yes, I realize chlamydia is curable and in contrast to what you could catch, but she acts like it's just an inconvenience. The girl's been having unprotected sex. Unprotected sex in a city with 6 million people. That's a huge pool of AIDS, herpes, syphilis, chlamydia and the clap (whatever the clap actually is).
What she did make a big deal about, which I thought was pretty normal was her "number."
Forty-two.
No, I am not going to take this opportunity to tell you how much sex (with how many people) that I have actually had, but I will say it's under 42. And yes, I could make a complete list and probably give you at least a first name for every partner. (minus two guys I forgot in college and one "bar guy" with a nice nose)
But by the time I'm in my mid-thirties, I expect to be well over 42. 10+ years is a long time to pass up perfectly satisfying cock in an a weak attempt to prove that I'm not a slut, or in a lame effort to not have to tell a potential husband, which I have yet to meet (and am not especially counting on or even looking forward too), that I could form a small baseball league with my former lovers.
42 in your mid-thirties is sex with a little over 2 people a year. One guy every 6 months.
The show played down a guy requesting that Carrie pee on him, but 42 is suppose to be shocking, or slutty.
Come on