I have this blog, the public one, the one you're reading right now (hello mum!). And I have another one, in which I write stuff that is too personal/boring/risky to broadcast quite so publicly. Sex definitely falls into at least one of those categories. I'll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide which.
However, I am presented with a quandary by this little boost to my ego:
Because, you know, if people might possibly be voting for me as the female blogger they would most like to do sticky body parts stuff with in a very prestigious and entirely serious blog awards, there are a couple of things I would like to point out first. Which kind of seems like talking about sex. On this blog here. (Mum, if you're still reading could you just click away to somewhere else, this is all going to be decidedly too much information for you.)
You see, the thing is, you could vote for me, but I just feel it's fair to let you know first:
1) You may want to have sexual intercourse with me on the basis of reading my inane witterings, but I will very probably not want to have it with you in return. Sorry. It's nothing personal, just that I've always worked on a highly whimsical crush-matrix based in part on the way people smell and a certain capacity to be extremely expressive and comical with facial expressions.
2) Even if you did want to have sex with me and I wanted to have sex with you right back, it's got to be at least 5000/1 against that ever actually taking place. Yeaaaahhhh, a boring old monogamist is pretty much what I am. How very 20th century of me, I know.
3) Even if you wanted to have sex with me, I wanted to have sex with you, and some bizarre sequence of events led to this happening, in real life, you would be SORELY disappointed. Honestly, you would. I am possibly the world's most selfish and lazy lover.