There is arguably nothing greater in this overly-complicated, terrorist-filled, STD-stricken world than food and sex. Food is comforting and delicious; sex is comforting and delicious. There is no wonder why the two should be described in similar terms, for instance a “food orgasm” etc.
But where do we draw the line between food and sex? Where do they converge and where are they separate entities entirely?
The Huffington Post recently did an exposé on just how bad it is to eat in your bed -- in your place of rest. It confirmed what seems to be a logical conclusion: Eating in bed is actually completely unsanitary and gross; it makes your bed a haven for bugs and general filth.
I wanted to take this a step further because I’m disgusting and I like to write about sex whether I’m having it or not having it — hell I’m going to write about it, by God!
The thing is not only should you not be eating in your bed — even if the cockroaches are the only form of company in your sad, single life — but food also has no place in your bed in a different sense — it has no place in your sex life.
Food and sex should be kept completely separate. No candy underwear or chocolate body sundaes for me, thank you very much. If eating in your bed is so vile, imagine having sex and eating.
There's a lot of sweaty body bouncing in the lusty act of coitus, so adding in some sweet treats may seem like a great idea -- and it’s clearly been marketed to us as “sexy,” whether it's in the form of edible bras or flavored condoms.
We’re being socially acclimated to accept the idea of licking sugary sh*t off each other’s bodies, and I am seriously over that noise.
Here are some perfectly logical reasons food and sex have no business being in a relationship with each other — and have no business having a threesome with you either.
You will be sticky
There is certain sexiness to “hot, sweaty, sticky sex” but not when there is food involved in that stickiness. Those fruit flavored Pez panties may have seemed like a great idea when you bought them, but have you ever actually tried using them? One word: saliva.
Once your man’s tongue is all up in there “seductively” (LOL!) eating that candy off your body, it is going to start to melt and, therefore, become very sticky. Nothing says orgasm like pubes full of sugar juice, am I right?
Food in the bedroom is the minor leagues of sex
Bringing chocolate sauce into the bedroom is the basic b*tch of sex. It’s not sexy; it’s not hot; it’s amateur. Invest in something you can use forever (read: whips and chains, baby!) not something that has a shelf life. Buy sex toys that will make your nerve endings melt, not something that is literally going to melt.
The cleanup is f*cking awful
Cleaning up after an ice cream makeout is a torturous hell to which no one should be subjected. You brought food into your sex life, well guess what? Now it’s everywhere. Hope you have a mattress cover because, otherwise, you just ruined the last important purchase your parents made for you after college. And trust me, you’re not going to be explaining this one to them.
You will get a yeast infection
Doesn’t that sound yummy? Here’s a horror story from a friend of mine: “I got a yeast infection because I let my drunken boyfriend smear peanut butter on my vagina.
He decided to go down on me to clean up the peanut butter, but he and I both passed out and I slept with peanut butter in my vagina. It was choice.” Oh, and bonus: It was chunky peanut butter. Enjoy those nightmares, compadre.
YOU WILL GET BUGS IN YOUR BED! Bugs come where the food is, and if the food is in your bed, the bugs will be in your bed. Just don’t eat in bed, OK? Promise? Bugs.
It is super-overrated
Food in the bedroom is like buying a pair of high-waisted pleather shorts... it seems like a good idea at the time when, in fact, it’s a complete disaster. We’ve been told that pouring strawberry sauce all over our SO’s torso and licking it off is the “sexy” thing to do. Like if we’re not eating ice-cream toppers off our partners, we’re clearly missing out hardcore.
The thing is, we’re not. Syrups, whipped cream and all other forms of sexy food-play are overrated bullsh*t. Add a type A person into the mix and you’ll have an OCD meltdown on your hands. And that sure is a sticky situation of the most unpleasant variety. Yes, I punned while talking about getting it on like a filthy Donkey Kong.
It literally doesn’t even taste good
"Waiter, I’ll take my whipped cream with a piping hot side of vagina!" Said no person ever. Think this one through before you crucify me, dear reader. Sweet, gooey, viscous liquids mixed with hot man sweat. Think about that.