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I like to think of sex as those good feelings I get as I curl up against my room mate, only to have them followed up with the same familiar "Wait, I don't have a room mate!" and then the fearful glimpses about the room, the girl lying in her bed beside me, the sparse decorations pink pink and various pop stars, thinking to myself with a brand of bland certainty "My god, I believe I've stumbled into hell."
*sighs*
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"You had a tough day at the office, so you come home, make yourself some dinner, smother your kids, pop in a movie; maybe a have a drink. It's fun, right? ...wrong.
...don't smother your kids."
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