You know the drill, right? In order to talk coition without actually talking coition, we typically must first achieve the perfect pitch. So, for the sake of getting into character — and for that sake only — figure you’re a 40-year-old dad for a moment (important technical note: this scenario is divorced from the sex game).
You’ve just retired because in your early thirties, you sold the slightly sour, wholly awesome red tomato recipe to a little company called Heinz which is why now you spend a lot of your day wearing mandals and slacks. When your daughter gets home from school with her friends, you are typically on the front lawn gardening because, you never know, maybe there might be an untapped tomato waiting for growth.
“Hey girls, how you doin’?,” you might ask them as they walk by. Your daughter’s friends giggle and she rolls her eyes. The song-in-voice of your pitch is similar to the way Joey Tribbiani used to wonder about the state of various females’ being during the course of the sitcom hit, Friends. But that’s where this imagining ends. All we take with us is the song-in-voice which, I’m not sure why, maintains the spectacular ability to make everything sound dirty.
“I’d like to butter your bagel,” for example, seems like a very different experience when said a la retired dad/Mr. Tribbiani versus when said as, you know, a bagel man. So here’s where we start playing the game. I’ll go first. Utilizing your pitch, imagine the most mundane or stereotypical activities.
Hey baby, I’m gonna —
Pin the tail on your donkey
Shape up your amoeba
Order your coffee — hot and with a little bit of milk
Or conversely, when asking your friend if she’s recently participated in sexual activity you might want to try the following:
So, did you hit the sack, boots on?
Cork that wine?
Ride his pony?
Knit that sweater?
Let him open that umbrella?
Put his shrimp on YOUR bar-be?
And so forth, and so forth.
Now, in the interest of free indirect discourse, I don’t want to, for lack of a more apropos phrase, blow your load, so please, expound with me on the manifold ways to articulate the act of fornication (or post-marital intercourse, whatever, though I do believe there are more crickets and cobwebs involved in the latter iteration — not speaking from experience or anything) without actually calling it SEX.
Fine: I’ll share one more.
Hey baby, can I, uh, try on your sunglasses?
Image via Tatler