Sex is like a lifelong normalcy contest. To find happiness, you should spend every day worrying about the kinds of sex you like, and whether you'll ever meet someone else who shares those likes. Then you comfort your untouched body by rubbing your hands all over it, wet though they may be with the sweat of anxiety and sadness. Ha! No, don't do that. That sounds awful, and besides, if you spend all your time worrying, when will you have time to bone? You won't! You will remain unboned, maybe forever.
So here's my real-life advice for you, which I want you to remember forever -- instead of worrying about what kind of sex you like (or, even worse, what kind of sex other people like, because nothing could ever be less important than something you don't want to see and no one wants to show you), use this rule of thumb: "The freakier the sex, the better it is for me, according to science." For example:
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"BDSM" is an acronym that covers every weird, outlandish, disgusting, terrifying, and degenerate sex act that everyone you know is intimately familiar with (yes, everyone). If you're a freak, then you know exactly what I'm talking about, and if the only thing you like is missionary position while a saxophone plays, then you're the only person like that, and we're all a bit scared of you.
At least be more interesting than ladybugs.
I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but everyone fucks weird. I seriously can't stress this enough. The next time you're in the living room of a friend or family member, look around. The old high school heirlooms have been in asses. That "funny" horse mask has been worn while boning. Why would anyone own more than one scarf if they weren't using it to tie people up? Every belt is a collar, every tie is a blindfold, every sock has been stuffed into someone's mouth. A friend of mine once asked me to help him move his dentist chair into his new apartment and no one even asked for or offered any explanation, because we all know what's up with that, don't we. OK, I'm lying a bit: I wasn't sorry to be the one to tell you that at all.
Anyway, this is why society is crumbling, surely. That crazy shit can't be good for you, which is why the DSM-V lists BDSM as an example of "paraphilia," or "unusual sexual fixation."
Why It's Secretly Good for You:
Folks who indulge in BDSM are psychologically healthier than people who don't. That's right: Everyone who got irrationally angry at those last few paragraphs are less sane than the people who didn't, and that's the least shocking sentence I've ever written. People who indulge in the ol' spanky-spank (or whatever) are more extroverted and open to new experiences (duhhhhhh), but also less neurotic, anxious, and paranoid. They were also more secure in their relationships, though that may have been because their partners were currently chained to their bed and hahaha, what a dumb and obvious joke.
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"Polyamory" is a fancy Greek word for "open relationship," which is a fancy English phrase for "We can fuck whomever we want, but we still love each other." I am not a polyamorist, mainly because the very idea defies the real, human emotions that form the foundation of every relationship: jealousy, possessiveness, and not wanting your partners to enjoy themselves unless you're sweating all over them.
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My girlfriend hates seeing movies with me.
Why It's Secretly Good for You:
Science says that polyamorous relationships are the best kind, but why would I trust Science? He's just the guy who hangs out behind the 7-Eleven near my house and sells me experimental bear tranquilizers. He says all kinds of crazy shit. So I did some research and discovered that Science is, perhaps coincidentally, totally right. The reasoning is pretty simple: Because both parties are out there sowing their wild oats, or having wild oats ... sown in them (I'm not sure what the female version of the euphemism is), communication becomes even more necessary.
For example: Polyamorous Charlie will say, "Hey, I like to fuck all the time, but sometimes you're at work or whatever, so how about I fuck other people?" and then Polyamorous Ashley is all, "Hey that's cool, dawg," because that's how they all talk. Bam. Communication. And as we all know, communication is the most important part of a relationship.
According to Science.
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According to the nation's insane old people, all the young kids with their pumped-up kicks are too focused on casual sex and ugly-bumping, and it's destroying them as people. Look, you sluts, it's not hard to explain: Every time you have sex, you give part of your soul to that person, so if you have too much sex, you'll only have a little sliver of your own soul left, and what will you have received in return?
Oh, obviously, you get the soul of everyone you ever stuck it to. Sleeping around works the exact same way as the soul-stealing spell in Skyrim and that is just so rad. Or maybe every sex partner you've ever had is a Horcrux, and all those soul shards you're carrying around are giving you magic powers. Right? No matter how you interpret this information, it makes casual sex better.
Play the field hard enough, and you will become an immortal sorcerer-god.
Why It's Secretly Good for You:
I sorta went off on a tangent there, but I'm back on track now. According to actual science and not my dumbshit conjecture, casual sex actually is good for you -- but only if you do it for the right reasons. The crazy, doom-saying old folks are at least partially correct: Casual sex is bad for you if you're doing it to drown out your own lack of self-worth and feelings of inadequacy. But if you just like rubbing your genitals all over other people's genitals, then it's actually great for your self-esteem.
Now that I've typed it out, that seems like an obvious distinction. That applies to everything, right?
"I enjoy carrots!"
"Good, because carrots are good for you!"
"I eat eight bags of carrots every night because otherwise I never stop crying."
"Well, OK, then you might have problems."
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"Like the fact that you're a carrot slut."
I know what you're thinking: "Sarge, all this stuff is pretty taboo, but what about the real gross stuff?" I'm glad you asked.