Sex is like Wi-Fi.

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It occurs to me that sex is like Wi-Fi everyone’s trying to connect, but half of them don’t know the password! Right now, somewhere in the world, a couple is tangled in sheets, a teenager is Googling “how to kiss,” and someone’s yelling “I swear this never happens!” and that’s just in my building!

I mean, sex is powerful. It’s the only activity where you can burn calories, ruin a marriage, and accidentally name a baby all in under five minutes! And don’t get me started on the noises. You ever hear your neighbours going at it? It’s like someone dropped a badger in a blender. I’m sitting there with my cup of tea thinking, “Is that passion or a plumbing issue?”

And the positions! I tried yoga once, thought I was being adventurous. Turns out I just invented a new way to sprain my dignity. These days, my idea of foreplay is finding my reading glasses and not remembering where I put the lube. It’s not Fifty Shades of Grey it’s Fifty Shades of ‘Where’s My Hip?’

But listen, sex is still magical. It’s the only time you can be completely naked, wildly vulnerable, and still somehow convince someone you’re a god/goddess. Unless you’re me then you’re just hoping the lighting’s dim and the tummy doesn’t roll up.



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