Oh, we're going there, people.
In Hollywood, two people have sex, then lie in bed and cuddle the day away in perfectly rumpled sheets. The lovebirds never lose feeling in their arms, which are being crushed beneath their partner. Their make-up stays perfect; their post-tryst tresses are impeccably tousled.
I don't know where the entertainment industry got their misguided motion of the ocean notion, but it was certainly not from my bedroom. There are at least four consequences of coitus. For starters:
1. Dirty duvet covers. Do you perform the birthday suit ballet on top of or underneath the sheets? If you get down and dirty on top of the bed, it kind of feels like cheap motel sex. Or, it means laundry doesn't spark your sauce.
2. The dreaded wet spot. Sure, you just played an awesome game of "Where's Willy?" but once it's all said and done, there's bound to be some leakage. Do you throw the well-loved linens into the wash? Do you just lie there pretending it's sweat from your quixotic quickie?
3. Rushing to the bathroom to pee so you avoid a UTI. I don't care how unattractive it is for me to get my pasty patootie to the potty, peeing post-rendezvous is a must. Of course, there are downsides to making my mad bathroom dash.
4. Junk juice running down your legs. I always feel like I get an extra point added onto my sex scorecard when I make it to the bathroom sans slippery, sticky inner thighs.
But let's be real about it, OK? The votes are in, and when it comes time to stuff the envelope, Hollywood is Hollywrong. I understand it may be undesirable to show a dimpled derriere rushing to the water closet, but at least smear the gal's mascara once in a while.