My Impossibly Specific Sexual Has-Done List

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My Impossibly Specific Sexual Has-Done List

I don't need a sexual To-Do list because, honestly, I've probably already done it. 


When I was approached with making a sexy to-do list like Aubrey Plaza in the upcoming comedy The To-Do List, I immediately started planning; listing everything I've never done, but hoped to accomplish. Halfway through my beautifully illustrated calligraphic writing of "butt stuff", I realized I was doing it all wrong. I'm not Aubrey Plaza. I think I'm the exact opposite of Aubrey Plaza. Realistically, it was going to be impossible to go on an all-out bang spree with my busy schedule of taking bike rides to Burger King and watching TV with my roommate. So I looked back on my history and dug up the moments that no one would imagine adding to a to-do list. This is my impossibly specific has-done list. 


1. Sex During Lunch

On two separate occasions, I’ve eaten food while inside of a person. What I expected was a George Costanza-like reaction in which the consumed food would forever be tied to the feeling of pleasure and the ensuing consumption of said food would cause me to achieve orgasm like a super-pleasurable version of Pavlov’s Dog. The results were disappointing and slightly disgusting. The first instance occurred in my dorm room my freshman year of college. My girlfriend at the time suggested that we would try the experiment with turkey subs from Quiznos. We assumed the position, made contact, took a bite of our sandwiches and continued. We both felt like indulgent gluttons. I would say it ruined turkey sandwiches for me, but that's impossible. Nothing will ever ruin turkey sandwiches. 

2. Sex On Drugs

I'm not talking about fun drugs. I've never had sex while high or tripping or rolling or whatever. Not because I haven't found the time, I'm just not into that scene. I'm talking about sex on Prozac. Without diving in too deeply amount my plethora of irritating mental bugs, I will tell you readers that I take a couple pills every night that keep me relatively sane. The thing about Prozac, which I'm sure most people know, is that it murders your sex drive. It murders it hard. With a bullet. Having sex while you're in the midst of a heavy Prozac dose is like stapling Jell-o to a wall. It just won't work. It's a step above being unable to get it up–you just kind of forget you have a penis. 

3. Sex With A Friend

I feel the need to be as clear as possible when describing my relationship with this friend. She wasn't a friend I secretly had feelings for; she wasn't a friend who harbored feelings for me while I was too distracted with someone out of my league; she was just a completely platonic friend. We met at work, ate lunch together every once in a while, and generally never cared if one of us flaked on plans. There was no attraction and we were happy with that. Then one day we spent too much time at a bar and drank more than we should've. She asked me to form a pact stating that we'd get married at 35 and I said that was stupid and cliché. I asked her if she wanted to sleep together and she said "sure." As if I was asking if she wanted to split an order of fries. And it was weird. So weird. Like that scene from Back To The Future where Marty kisses his mom. We didn't laugh about it the next day; we never bring it up and laugh. We just decided it never happened. As Don Draper so eloquently put it: "It will shock you how much it never happened." 

4. Sex While Mourning

Isn't there this ongoing theory/side-plot of every early 2000s romantic comedy that funerals make people super-horny? Perhaps I was just playing into that stereotype when I engaged in sadness-fueled intercourse following a phone-call saying a friend had died. I'm a bit on the dramatic side and the girl I was with at the time was even more dramatic, so our need to out-dramatic the other came into play as tears mutated into arousal. It was really fun…probably worth the guilt that followed directly after. 

5. Sex During The Twilight Zone

I'm not trying to flex my muscles and be a manly man when I tell people that horror movies don't scare me. Ghosts, goblins, zombies, and maniacs just don't scare me. I'm more of a "scared to touch the handle of a public restroom" kind of guy. Regardless, The Twilight Zone scares me. It bypasses my pre-constructed list of terrors and redefines to the point where I'm afraid to go to the bathroom by myself. I blame it on the sound design and Rod Serling's incredible storytelling abilities. I mean, seriously, that man was the Santa Claus of horror. Sex during The Twilight Zone puts you into a deep introspective state where you're shockingly aware of every scrape, scratch, and bump in the night. As you're pumping away with your hunny, you're constantly frightened that you'll float away to another dimension where sex is forbidden and the punishment is the sincerest form of poetic justice. Like…10,000 virgins will jerk you off, but you have to tongue-kiss Guy Fieri every time you orgasm. God damn you, Rod Serling. 

6. Sex During a Panic Attack

A panic attack–a true panic attack is one of the most unnerving sensations a person can feel. You're positive death is moments away and every thought is consumed with morbid images of coffins, funerals, pallbearers, and the eyeball monster from Pan's Labyrinth. Sex during a panic attack is the most removed one can be during such an act. Your mind has passed elsewhere and gets stuck in another universe all together. Maintaining an erection is the least of your worries, as you wonder if your flaccid dick will procure a blood clot that'll travel up the urethra into your brain, killing your slowly and painfully. I can't be the only one who thinks about this kind of stuff, right guys? 

7. Sex After Annie Hall

Annie Hall is, not only, one of my favorite movies of all times–it's one of the best movies ever made. It evokes this renewed sense of faith in love and allows you to re-examine your life in an optimistic light. Classic nervous Woody Allen to make a person feel good about themselves after two hours of self deprecating humor and optimistic nihilism. The sex I had after watching Annie Hall for the first time made me feel like I was having sex with my one true love. I've always been compared to Woody Allen (more in terms of looks rather than wit–hooray) and that played into my fantasy that I was sleeping with my Annie Hall. 

8. Sex During Mad Men

Mad Men does for men what Twilight did to preteen girls. Each episode leaves us with this intense (and somewhat uncalled for) pride for our gender, regardless of all the horrible things men do in that program. However, when you see a man who's so classically handsome and manly, you just can't but think–that could be me. So the kind of sex you have following an episode is probably the most misogynistic one will–or should–ever get. Don Draper mid-coitus is powerful, mesmerizing, and the best sex you'll ever get. Sure, my faux-Draper sex is probably on par with how good men think they look in fedoras. Delusional. Still, you can't help but feel good about yourself after a rousing episode of Mad Men. All those cigarettes…

9. Sex During The Apocalypse

Ok, so maybe the world hasn't ended yet. And, yes, it'll likely be a long time before the people of earth meet their doom. However, in my lifetime, there have been plenty of predictions of our last days. Y2K, Hayley-Bop, December 21, and so on. Deep down I've always known these theories were cooked up by loonies, but the perceptually nervous parts of my brain have always wondered. So, I've found sex was always a good distraction to my totally uncalled for fear. This is actually my favorite kind of sex, which is disappointing because highly publicized doomsday proclamations are few and far between. I had some seriously mixed feelings about the man who spent all his money promoting the end of the world in May 2011, Harold Camping. On one hand, he really riles people up with his bullshit theories (myself included), but on the other hand, he aided me in having some really successful goodbye sex. When I woke up the next morning and found I had not been struck by the rapture, I was relieved. I think I celebrated by…having sex again? Or maybe I just made a really great omelet? I don't remember. Hey–didn't Harold Camping die? 

10. Sex With My Phone

Calm down, I haven't put my iPhone in my butt. Frankly, it wouldn't matter even it caused the most intense pleasure on earth–those things are expensive and I refuse to put $500 up my ass. Anyway, I'm talking about the recent phenomena of sexting. Dick pics, nudies, snapchat, omegle. The combination of extremely anonymous simulated sex combined with the taboo pleasure of seeing someone you know naked for even 6 seconds causes a rise in me that was literally impossible to feel only a couple years prior. If I could go back in time and tell 14-year-old me that in the future it'd be possible to receive naked pictures on a mobile phone, I would jump for joy. Of course, that would be after my panic attack from talking to myself from the future. It really makes you reflect on how much porn has impacted the growth of technology. Whether people want to admit it or not, phones are feverishly upgrading their front-facing cameras to improve the quality of the picture you take of your johnson in a low-lit room. When the quality of dick pics match National Geographic's photographs of the Serengeti, humanity will be deemed a success.  


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