Downtown Train

My friend Jenn's sexual history can be described in olive oil terms. She isn't disinterested in sex -- she actually talks about it a lot -- but she feels like she just isn't ready for it yet because sometimes when she and her partner touch, the honesty's too much. Actually, I've no idea why Jenn's chosen to be celibate but I'm not going to judge, nor am I going to tell people we know that I think she's secretly a lesbian. Instead, I'll patiently listen to her questions and tell her everything I know.

She's curious about oral sex (evidently a former college roommate once told her "I think you're going to really like it!" as if she were recommending a Broadway musical) and recently Jenn asked me what it tastes like. I had to stop and think.

She said she'd polled other guys she knows, and based on their answers it's obvious they're virgins who don't want to admit they've never administered oral sex on real live women. One of these sweaty-palmed liars said it was sweet and fruity. (He was either lying or already had a Mento in his mouth.) Another guy said it tastes like a penny, indicating he was experiencing a stroke. Yet another one compared it to laundry detergent, adding that a woman's breasts feel like bags of sand. I told Jenn that a guy we know had said it tastes exactly like beef and broccoli. I can't feel sorry enough for a guy whose girlfriend tastes like beef.

After some deliberation I answered "shrimp chips," which is ironic because I like shrimp chips.

I'm hoping to be nominated for some sort of blog award.