Female Contraception

One of the things I’ve always loved about women is the amount to which they feel the scrutiny of peer pressure. Like that one ridiculously fat girl at the bar who’s oozing out of a skirt that was designed to hug the hips of starving Ethiopian kids. Why’s she wearing it? Paris Hilton made a video wearing it. At least, we think she was wearing it. It’s hard to see one’s skirt when the entire video is just the top of one’s head.

However, where this whole concept reaches a level of insanity is when it comes to the female mind and sex.

Men have it easy. Male consciousness goes this way: “Sex? Hell yes. By any means necessary. Don’t care who knows, what the surroundings, who with, or who needs to get stabbed. If there’s a wet, receptive hole, I’ll be inside it faster than anti-depressants into the son of Anna Nicole Smith.”

Hence, semi-conscious intercourse behind a convenience mart, with fat sack of crap wearing the Hilton dress is (after the right number of whiskey sours) a truly magical and romantic moment, even with the over-powering stench of hot wings and the creaking of bones under untold pounds of fat each time she belches. Plus, we know at the end of the night we can out-run her if she wants our phone number.

Women have way more qualifying conditions. Things like “class” and “character.” I tell you, a guy could go crazy trying to interpret them all. It’s not enough that guys have to somehow match a set of expectations never explained to us that fluctuate wildly from woman to woman, sometimes a girl actively goes out of her way to sabotage her own chances of getting lucky that night. This brings me back to my point about peer pressure, sex, and the female mind.

I have "lady" (and I use the term loosely here) friends who admit to little rituals designed to stop themselves from putting out what they feel is “too early” in a relationship. Things like not cleaning their apartments, wearing the ugliest pair of underwear they own, or not shaving…various places. That kind of thing. The premise is that being called a whore by one’s date the next day isn’t much of a deterrent. But him seeing that one's sheets don’t perfectly match the curtains…well, that just couldn’t be tolerated.

You heard me right: in some cases, a pair of granny panties act as a fallback method of contraception.

I’m going to level with you: I’ve been with some women with dirty residences. I can never remember thinking, “Wow, did you see all the streaks on the glass while she was bent over the coffee table? Fucking pig. And when you were in the reverse airplane, did you notice that this lazy skank’s movies weren’t even alphabetized?”

I guess I just find it funny how much pressure women feel is exerted on them to be perfect. Especially considering how generally oblivious we men are. I had a girl ask me if she remembered the pants she wore two weeks ago. I said, “I don’t even remember you being around, let alone what Salvation Army refugees you managed to squeeze your cootch into a fortnight ago.”

So here’s a tip, ladies: If you’re really looking at a reason not to sleep with a guy, I wouldn’t be stressed about the way your apartment looks. Instead of worrying about sorting your 800 shoes by color, focus on something important. Because your true love won’t care about your room, your underwear, or your small imperfections. Trust me. He’s too busy staring at those extra 20 pounds you’ve packed on since college, Saddlebags.