Picture your hottest sex fantasy. Really. Take your time. Include all the glorious pervy details.

Even that thing with the rubber oven mitt. That is dirty. And we are into it.

 

Now, imagine everyone involved in this Ultimate Gold-Star Fuck-Scenario has just eaten

heaping portions of Maggiano’s rigatoni bolognese.

 

Ridiculous?

 

It happens every night, all across the globe. Millions of people EAT DINNER BEFORE THEY

FUCK.

 

This is absurd.

 

Absolute. Fucking. Madness.

 

What fiendish gastrointestinal sadist decided that sex should take place at night, after the

heaviest meal of the day? When it’s grown so late that even the most rudimentary foreplay

allotment pretty much guarantees we’re not making it to that 7am HIIT class. When we’ve

guzzled so many spicy palomas that there is very little hope of anything resembling adequate

sexual function. And when all we truly want is to be gently lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones

of that Netflix doc about the murder cult who blended their victims into smoothies.

 

Sex is a rigorous activity. A sporting endeavor, best enjoyed with a clear mind and a clean

stomach. When we were children, we could eat a Double-Double with fries in the dugout

right before a little league game. But then we became adults. Adults who bone. It’s time to

put aside childish things. To grow up. And schtup before supper.

 

So, by all means, get your fuck on. But get it on EARLY. Limber, light-of-gut, and luxuriously

Fart-free.

 

You climax collectively, just as the sun dips below the horizon. Holding each other in the

amber twilight, spent and floating in bliss, you whisper six words, the most erotic phrase that

lovers can share:

 

“What should we eat for dinner?”

 

If you enjoyed today’s moot, check out Matt’s website. If you are feeling generous, consider giving to the Parkinson’s Foundation, Matt’s charity of choice.