Now tell me: how many times have you had sex with someone, after which you just wanted to go home - to your own home, your own room - to sleep? Or eat a bowl of Tom Yum ramen. Or write your diary. Or have a cup of chamomile tea. Or whatever you wanna do after sex. Just not being with the guy you had just fucked with (fucking 'with' someone takes away the active/passive role differentiation).
You'd be thinking: it was fun for a moment, but now that I've, uhh, arrived, I feel funny about it.
His spit smells funny on my skin. I wanna take a bath.
The ear thing was like, eww.
I must have been out of my mind. He didn't even shave. Now my neck is feeling raw.
Sex is good. Until it's over and he's not the guy you want to spend your life with. Midnight cab rides are a little more expensive, but it's worth your every cent.
