1) We tell our friends we’re going to have s x with you.
Sorry. Maybe this doesn’t apply to all of you moral angels out there in this online world, but if I’m planning on having s x with a guy, I’m also telling two different group texts of my closest friends that I’m going to do so. Why? I don’t know. It’s a lot like sending them pictures of me in a dressing room in different outfits I’m trying on. It’s fun and stops me from making a terrible mistake out of desperation. Sorry, shitty guys and girls of the world who have f. ked a lot of people over. There is a roadblock on your path. Try Tinder.
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4) We think about it. We think about what you’re going to look like n a ked, if you’ll be the kind of person who uses all soft, light touches that almost tickle, or if you’ll be the kind who makes strong grabs that feel confident and sure. We think about when it will happen, what the color of your sheets will be. For the love of God, we hope you’ll have sheets. But I digress.
Girls think about s x. We think about it a lot. We’re told that we don’t and shouldn’t think about it as much as guys, but then we do, and we catch ourselves saying things like, “I’m acting like a dude.” No, you’re normal. Whether we’re thinking about having s x with a guy or a girl or just s x in the abstract of maybe wanting to have it sometime with someone, we’re still thinking about s x. Human beings are kind of into that in general, regardless of gender. Science!
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2) We tweeze and wax.
Oh, you didn’t think my eyebrows were instruments of sed. tion? Au contraire. If you’ve been on the Internet (cool, shitty place FYI) in the past year, you know that ‘eyebrow game’ is a thing. And few things make me feel like a new woman like shaping my eyebrows into strong and beautiful bitch-in-charge contours above my eyes. When I win the eyebrow game, best believe I’m feeling like I could kick even a ss. Also, I wax my upper lip because I’m Sicilian and I don’t want a mustache. It’s true. If you and I were ever stuck on a deserted island together, I would probably look like Mario within four months. That truth is not s. y to me, so I buried it with years of waxing, never to see the light of day, or the dark of any dude’s apartment.
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1) We shave Shave it all. If I could afford it, I would most definitely have a wizard with a laser remove all of the hair from my l. gs and underarms, and possibly even my bikini line if that’s a thing that we do now. I would tell her to put that shit on
Star W"ars-style blast and burn off all of my body hair until I can walk up to a newborn and be like, “Ew, you hairy b ast.” Okay, I’m not a monster, but you get the point. I want that shit gone. I kind of could afford it if I used a Life booker coupon, but I’m not sure that I believe in using coupons when it comes to lasering one of my major organs. I know, I know. I don’t need to shave and many women don’t. Gender norms, I get it. But something about the feeling of rubbing my freshly shaved and lotioned l gs together makes me feel like, twenty times more stoked to get n k d with another person. God bless to all of you out there who shave your arms. It’s traumatic enough for me enough to find missed patches on my legs after spending twenty minutes dragging a tiny blade up them ever so gently, so I can’t imagine the kind of angst that comes with finding an orangutan patch on the arms you work so hard to keep weirdly smooth. Trust your struggle.
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