Read this and thought of you...

Perfect Timing by Michael Faudet

Sometimes you make me feel like a clock perched on a dusty shelf, she said.

Counting down the hours, the minutes and seconds until we meet.

And when we do, the hands become my legs.

Forever stuck on 4.40pm.

If ever I have a son, this will be their birds and the bees talk:

Big Poppa E. - “How To Make Love”

One: Buy condoms. Buy them and keep them with you at all times, and use them before you are asked to use them. And use them every time. The peace of mind you allow your partner will free her to be vulnerable with you, and that, my son, is exactly what sex is about. Condoms are sexy. In fact, call buying condoms foreplay.

(Footnote: If you are too embarrassed to buy condoms, you are not ready to have sex.)

Two: Kissing is not merely foreplay. Spend entire evenings making out on the couch while fully clothed. Believe me, dry-humping rocks.

Three: Sex is not just about friction. It’s about emotion. Stop trying to find her clitoris and find her heart. Because then she’ll help you find her clitoris.

Four: If you really wanna know how to please a woman, ask her how she masturbates. Then do that. A lot. If she claims she doesn’t masturbate, offer to take her shopping for a vibrator so you can both learn the vocabulary of her body together.

Five: Don’t put anything in her butthole you wouldn’t want in your own.

(Footnote: Try a pinky finger, it’s kinda awesome.)

Six: When you go down on her—and you will go down on her, and if you are my son, you will be amazing at it—tell her how good she tastes. Stop in the middle and kiss her deeply so she knows how good she tastes. Do the same when she goes down on you.

Seven: A simple Google search will yield 1,327 euphemisms for male masturbation, yet only 23 for female masturbation. If guys spent less time jacking off and more time jilling off, this world would be a happier place.

Eight: Everything you need to know about the importance of the clitoris is in the movie Star Wars. You are Luke Skywalker piloting your penis-shaped X-Wing Fighter deep inside her trench. Remember: seventy percent of all Death Stars cannot be blown up through penetration of the trench alone. It must be through focused contact with that little exhaust port at the top of the trench. Otherwise, any explosions you experience will be merely Hollywood special effects.

Nine: Just because you come doesn’t mean she has, so don’t you dare come before her. Focus completely on your partner. Don’t worry about gettin’ yours, you’re a guy. You always get yours. Your job is to make sure she’s gettin’ hers.

Ten: If sex with your partner lasts no longer than this poem, you are not making love. You are masturbating with her body instead of your hand. Shame on you. Go back to step one. You’ve got a lot of learning to do.

Love, Dad.

A Haiku For Every Girl I've Ever Slept With...by Benedict Smith

1. The haiku form is an appropriate length to describe with fuck.
2. When I handcuffed you, it was insanely hot, I came in my jeans.
3. We used to have sex so we didn't have to talk. Now we do neither.
4. We had a threesome. You, me, and my depression. Depression fucks hard.
5. I shouted my love from the rooftops before almost jumping off.
6. You didn't like me but you did like my writing, I guess that's enough.
7. Entangled, twitching, we came down as cenotaphs numb with limbless minds.
8. Tried your fantasy and pretended to rape you. It felt a bit forced.
9. You learned of my pain and said you'd try to fix me. That wasn't your job.
10. You were very large but alcohol and codeine made you not so large.
11. You liked to be choked, you stuffed animals for fun, you were just my type.
12. Halfway through you sobbed, said you were touched as a child. I stopped and held you.
13. Thirteen is bad luck but three's a lucky number, fourteen would agree.
14. It wasn't awkward. It was just double the fun. That's arithmetic.
15. Puked everywhere and then fell into a bush. You still wanted me.
16. Our contrasting skin meant some passersby would stare and we just loved it.
17. You were a model who found me through my writing. Thank you, internet.
18. We made a sex tape. I hope I find it before my family does.
19. I whipped you too hard, inadvertently drew blood, quickly apologised.
20. Cars drove by as I fingered you at a bus stop (a romantic date).
21. It's strange to think it but before you miscarried, was I a father?
22. We both got naked online for our followers in different ways.
23. "You don't care", you said, so I pretended to cry, and then we had sex.
24. You liked taking charge and I went along with it out of laziness.
25. I tried to whip you, then I hit my testicles...it ruined the mood.
26. It took twenty five, twenty five, misconnections before I found you.

10 Honest Thoughts On Being Loved By A Skinny Boy

1.

I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
hard.

2.

My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

3.

On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.

4.

When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

5.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

6.

He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

7.

I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

8.

The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

9.

The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.

10.

I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
hard.

— by Rachel Wiley

Instead of sleeping, i'm sharing poems that I find interesting with no-one in particular  

"Ten honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy" has got to be one of the most gutsiest pieces of literature I have ever read. It's almost Post Secrets-y. Hats off to Miss Wiley for publishing this to the world.

My favourite part of this poem is: "Fucking me does not require an asterisk, loving me is not a fetish, finding me beautiful is a novelty."

Instead of Killing Yourself

wait until

a year from now

where you say,

"Holy fuck,

I can't believe I was going to kill myself before I etcetera'd...

before I went skinning dipping in Tennessee,

made my own IPA,

tried out for a game show,

rode a camel drunk,

skydived alone,

learned the waltz with clumsy old people, 

photographed electric jellyfish,

built a sailboat from trash,

taught someone how to read,

etc. etc. etc."

The red washing

down the bathtub

can't change the colour of the sea

at all.

Denial

Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the bum. 
And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. 
The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. 
We can only lie to ourselves for so long. 
We are tired, we are scared; denying it doesn't change the truth. 
Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. 
Head on, guns blazing. 
De Nile; it's not just a river in Egypt, it's a freakin' ocean. 
So how do you keep from drowning in it?