Nope. Not some weird phone number that gets advertised at 2 AM while flipping between reruns of bad 90s sitcoms, great 70s game shows, and that live show where the mentally disturbed dudes sell overstuffed packages of knives that nobody needs but I really want for some strange reason. Not the kind of sex line where you can meet hot young singles with breathy voices and sketchy vibes who somehow heard about the service because, obviously, they read the same filthy rags that you do. Not that. What I’m talking about is something that you probably know by another name. I don’t know what that name is because I am not you. I just know the name that I use, and the name that I use is “Sex Lines”. I use this name because my friends and I have been using it since high school and for us, it immediately conjures up the correct types of images of men and/or women with this incredible level of definition. Images like this:
Yes, that is Adam Levine. Yes, you have seen it before. Yes, you are a fucking pervert, you fucking pervert. And yes, he most definitely has “sex lines”… that son of a bitch. I want lines like that. I want them real bad. I have always wanted them and have never had them. There was a brief period in my life while I was in the service that I had some abs, and that was pretty rad, but even then I didn’t even have a a single minor sex crease. This is not an immediate goal. My most immediate goal is to lose the next ten pounds and keep them off long enough to “burn”* them. That… probably requires explaining. Alright, if you want to know about that, skip to the end. Then come back to here. I’ll wait. Otherwise, push on ahead, but let’s first hone in on the topic of discussion:
Not only do I eventually want to wear a hot-chick-hands pair of briefs, I also just want to sport some sex lines just ’cause. I also want them for some reasons that are, probably, considered less than wholesome for most people. I want to have them on my body because I want to have them in my bed, in my hands, in my face. I want to have them on my body because it is only fair.
Call me a pervert. I won’t deny it. I like sex. I love sex. I feel like most people around my age are ready to admit the truth about just how much they actually think about, enjoy, and desire sex. It’s around this age that men start to be more honest about how little sex they have had and how little sex they want. At this age, women start to admit just how much sex they have had and just how much they really do want it. I juxtapose those not because I honestly feel like one side wants or has sex more frequently than the other. Think about it – the numbers don’t match up. If the average number of women that a man beds in his life is 10 and the average number of men that a women beds is 3… what about that 7 person gulf? Are we fucking aliens and do those female aliens not count? Are those women not actually women but rather “women”? No. Even if we assume that most men will sleep with roughly the same amount of women and that that number is around 10 but that women have a strange divide between “good girls” whom only sleep with the man they marry and “bad girls” who sleep with scores of men before they hit the age of 23, the averages should be pretty damned close. What those statistics tell us most is that we are liars. All of us. Men and women both. I’m not linking to these stats because in order to read this you need to be able to access the internet, and with that power you clearly have access to Google, so if you really need that information or completely don’t believe me, just go ahead search for yourself.
I don’t have statistics to back up this next part, but I do have some anecdotal evidence, which I may share some other day. To a person, every male I knew and know from around age 13 to their mid-to-late 20’s swears up and down that they have sex all the time and crave sex all the time. The only exceptions are the more religious guys, most of which claim to be virgins even when we all know that they aren’t. During the same age span, every women I have known and have bothered to ask basically speak of sex as a completely foreign concept that they not only have never experienced it, but have also never even considered the possibility that they could have it or that another person might want it from them. I have found that these odd gender divides cross locality, skin color, and sexual preference. Around 30 years old, people start to fess up. Most of the dudes never got anything until late high school, and it was almost certainly a long term girlfriend who first gave it to them. They had a fair amount of it, but not with very many different women. Most of the ladies were having sex back when they were pretending to be virgins, which was mostly in high school and mostly with their long term boyfriends that they first gave it to. They had a fair amount of it, but mostly with the same guy or small handful of guys. Yeah. We lied. And in opposite directions. I’d guess that the true average is closer to five, and that number goes for both genders. Funny creatures, we are.
But forget about social norms and my shady Math, because I always do. I really do love sex and I am all the fuck about fairness. I want to knock some boots and I don’t want to be a dick about it. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m an ass man, so you might think that I don’t give a shit about the rest of a woman. You would be wrong. I love boobs. I love stomachs. I love shoulders. I love arms. I love legs. I love – obviously – vaginas. I love lips. I love shoulders. I love the small of the back. I love cute ears. I love calves. I love fingers and I love toes. I love eyes. I love cheeks. I love every inch of beauty. I won’t pretend that part of that isn’t my pervert nature. It is. Part of it is also just aesthetic. I love beauty. I’m not joking, and maybe some day I’ll write a little post admitting to that whole deal, but not today. Today I need to stay on the path of intersecting good values with my own gross, pervy, asshat way, because I love the female body for many reasons. And I really, really, really, fuckin’-fo’-realz-really love sex lines. These:
I love the way that those awe inspiring, strong, honest as all fuck bits of definition run from a chick’s sexy tummy to her yummy box and thighs. Mmmmmmmm…. thighs. Tits are fun, but only face, ass, and sex lines can make me forget about the rest of the world and just want, want, want, want, want, want. I don’t know if it’s because it highlights the general area’s most fun bits or not. Maybe it’s because seeing them makes me think that the area, in general, is all types of tight. Maybe it convinces my dipshit brain that the lady knows how to really work it in bed – bumping and grinding instead of shitty slam-slam-slaming. Maybe it’s because those lines are magically awesome. But it’s probably because it is proof positive that the owner of that body gives so much of a shit that she’ll bust her ass just to impress. And while I wouldn’t have cared at all about that in the past, these days, that really matters to me.
Back to fairness, if I want any lady that I get down with to be fit and hopefully have some sex lines, it’s really only fair that I have them, too. I should figure out how the fuck to have my shitbox body transform from a gross, gelatinous, bovine mess of clay, mayo, and hair into one of magic, pure sexiness, stone, and iron. And it’s only fair. It’s only fair to give a sexy pair of sex lines in exchange for a sexy pair of sex lines. it’s fair. And I like to be fair. Let’s be fair. Because look at this shit and tell me that you don’t want to gnaw on it for a while:
(photo courtesy of bettersixpackabs.com)
tl;dr – I’m a long way away from it, but after I get some abs, I will bust my ass to get those line what highlight your sexual organs.
I also want to have sex lines and get a lady that has sex lines because I want to test a theory of mine. I think that when two people with sex lines press those line together, a star is born. I don’t mean movie stars, rock stars, rap stars, porn stars… naw. None of that. I mean stars. These:
Also, let’s not forget about that whole being an ass man thing. Ladies who have sex lines also tend to have really great these:
*Ha ha, fooled you!!! I’m not going to explain this shit today. I’ll talk about this in a separate, bonus post tomorrow. For the mean time, just know that it means when I can sustain a lower weight for long enough, the top end weight is dead to me and I can never peak it again and I’ll go fucking crazy on myself if ever I do.
No forecast this week. I haven’t planned anything, I’m spending time with family, and the lady I mess around with most regularly is out of town for most of the week.