No, I don't need to know how many orgasms you had last night. Really.
So I was out with a few of the neighborhood moms the other night when one of them decided to share with us her latest sexual escapades. Now I don't know about you, but hearing the gory details of someone else's sex life makes me break out in hives, especially when you have to look her husband in the eye at the next PTO fundraiser.
Note to all the moms out there: We're not in high school anymore. It's not really cool to brag about your latest sexual conquest, what crazy position you discovered or how many times a week you go at it anymore. Even back in high school I never liked people who let the whole world in on their sexual secrets, but hey -- that's just me. I didn't like it then, and I certainly don't like it now.
Here's the deal ... we're not kids anymore and the guy you banged doggy style in the living room last night isn't the quarterback of the football team, he's my kid's soccer coach. Now while I don't want to picture you doing all those dirty things you for some reason like to brag about -- I certainly don't want to think about my kid's coach doing them either. Seriously, I'll never be able to look at him screaming -- "nail it in the goal" in quite the same way again. You're messing with my Saturday morning soccer mom mojo here.
Oh, and another thing, I could do without the reports on each and every counter top, cabinet, appliance and piece of furniture you've christened during your sexual reawakening (or is this your midlife sexual crisis?) Whatever the story, how do you expect me to help myself to the sushi platter you so painstakingly placed on the dining room table, knowing this is the same table you had "three mind-blowing orgasms on" last week. Really, it's enough to make me lose my appetite -- as well as your telephone number.
So please, for the sake of my sanity, and because I really don't have the time or energy to compare my sex life to yours -- please, please please -- keep your sex life to yourself.