I went on a date with a woman who was very open about sex. She said, “My last boyfriend couldn’t make me cum.”
I said, “Where?”
She said, “Anywhere.”
I said, “What?”
She said, “Orgasm.”
I said, “What’s an orgasm?”
She said, “That’s what he said,” and she laughed, which was great, but it didn’t answer my question. She then asked me to stick my tongue out and wiggle it between my teeth, like I was going to rapidly lick milk out of a saucer.
It was very confusing.
Mum said she wanted to know if I could blow her, which is a weird sentence.
But my date explained it to me. Which was nice of her.
Mum said, “You should go to a brothel.”
I said, “No, I don’t want to. It’s cheating the process.”
Mum said, “You would learn a lot.”
I said, “I’m sure I would.” I was already learning plenty from my date, but I had to say, “Look, I don’t have the expertise you require. You could tell me to stand on a ladder while oscillating an egg and poking my finger into a cabbage, and I’d do it. I just wouldn’t know any better.”
Suddenly she was very interested in me. She started to suggest other things I could poke my finger into instead of a cabbage, and things we could do on each rung of a ladder.
I said, “Look, the ladder thing was a joke. About all I want to do to a women is use them as a human hot water bottle, at least to start with. I’m not comfortable with all this. It sounds like you need a gymnast who’s also a handyman, or one of each.”
She said, “You’re right.”
I said, “I’m neither of those.”
She said, “Yes. Thanks for your honesty.” which is never a good thing.
I hear she’s now dating Jamie Durie. So that’s good. That’s a happy ending.