John Cusack royally fucked us (no pun intended) the night he decided to stand outside Diane’s house and serenade her with a boom box over his head until she was forced to tell him to stfu. Since then, thanks to every other improbable modern-day romcom, we’ve been fooled into thinking borderline stalker romantic gestures like that are actual things. Like, I can’t even get a guy to flirt with me long enough to get annoyed by it. Anyway, if there’s one thing more pathetic than a classic romcom airport sprint out of pure desperation, it’s the art of romcom fuckery and its unrealistic perfection no matter where the task is performed. Sure, crafty sex scenes make for great study material, but think about it—do you ever actually see the outcomes? The answer is no, because it’s not a fucking thing. Look, I get it—duty calls, sometimes where you least expect it, and I couldn’t give less fucks where you choose to fork it out, but taking your shag sesh into unfuckable territory is like signing up for a group project—great in theory, but 12 times out of 10, you’ll end up frustrated and blaming your partner for their shitty performance. So whomever whatever you do, don’t repeat my mistakes, and avoid boning in these v overrated places at all costs (unless maybe you’re Christian Grey).
1. The Shower
I’m sorry, but who hasn’t been personally victimized by shower sex? The main reason for this failure is that no normal, struggling adult human actually owns a shower bigger than a vacuum closet, but when it comes to sex, the last thing that should be wet and slippery is the playing field. The first thing? Fucking duh, but don’t expect your platinum vagine to sustain prime-moisture (ew omg “moist!”) once Harold from upstairs flushes the toilet, causing the water flow to surpass the average boiling temp and your leg to slip out from under you during mediocre standing-up sex. Music videos might make this shit look effortless, but nobody comes out of a shower looking like a naturally gleaming Shay Mitchell. Not even Shay Mitchell. So unless for some god-awful reason you’re wearing waterproof mascara or a shower cap, that “glow” you’re thinking of is nothing but a mixture of sweat and disappointment.
2. The Beach
We’ve all secretly dreamt of telling a story about lusting over a short-lived fling while doing the deed on a secluded beach during those warm summer nights…K, sit the fuck down, Danny Zuko. This is why they invented a cocktail called “sex on the beach”, because actually having sex on a beach requires you to ease the discomfort with like, six of them right after. Think about it: since when is the beach ever not windy, so say goodbye to that overpriced Dry Bar blowout. And it’s more likely you won’t be conveniently prepared with a towel, so now you’re forced to fuck on the lifeguard tower where half the high school population lost their virginities. Also, you knew this was coming: sand. The fucking sand. That shit is like the herpes of the earth—you’ll still be pulling it out of certain crevices weeks later, so really, need I say more?
3. The Backseat Of A Car
Question for you: Are we still in 10th grade? Now where was I? Nobody who’s had decent sex would ever resort to the backseat to bang one out. First off, idk what genius implanted into the Y.A.-millennial minds that “smaller” is better and more practical, but try having sex in the backseat of a Fiat and then we can talk. I’m also just gonna assume that if you’re doing it in his car, his mom just gave him gas money after telling him to clean his room before he left to pick you up. And that musty stench you’re probably wondering about? You’re now breathing in his sweaty ballsack residue from last week’s gym shorts.
But mostly, I blame Kate Winslet for this mess. Honestly, the first time I watched the sex scene in Titanic, I saw everything through my hand covering my eyes (which says a lot about me now), so fast forward 15 years and too much car sex experience to shamelessly admit later, I now know that her hand sliding down the window was not the product of a steamy DiCaprio-gifted orgasm, but more along the lines of a desperate gasp for air in an overheated crammed space with a seatbelt buckle wedged under her ass. Spare yourself the torture.
4. The Jacuzzi
Oooooo jacuzzis are so sexual because you’re already half naked, and the bubbles give added mystery! Remember that thing we learned about in 7th grade science class? It’s called friction. Before you go in for kill, know that you’re literally going against the laws of physics when the water washes away your natural lubricant you worked so hard to get during that 12 minutes of underwater humping. Also, I don’t mean to go all WebMD on you, but it’s fucking disgusting. It’s gross enough soaking in your own bathtub filth, but jacuzzis are like the holy grail of community disease. So moral of the story, don’t have jacuzzi sex. Because you will get pregnant. And die.
5. Your Parents’ Bed
If somebody were to voluntarily tell me a story that began with “we fucked in my parents’ bed”, I would immediately make my way over to the nearest window, and plummet to my death. Next.
6. The Kitchen Counter
What is this, Discovery Channel? Unless you’ve actually inherited the kitchen of Gordon Ramsey, or the cleanliness of my mother over the holidays, I will not be placing my bare ass anywhere near your rotting fruit bowl or your 7-piece CutCo knife set. Sure, the kitchen is filled with necessary foreplay assets, like whipped cream and syrup, but chances are, if you feel the urgent need to set up camp on the kitchen counter, you’ll have already decided to forgo said toppings, or foreplay, or hell, a condom for that matter. Plus, I’ve spent more money than I’m willing to admit on Pilates classes so my ass doesn’t look like a fucking chicken cutlet, and the last thing any girl would want is to actually smell like one.
7. An Airplane Bathroom
I’d be lying if I said that joining the Mile-High Club isn’t the top bucket list item on my phone notepad, but the idea itself is fucking dumb. Unless you’re Kylie Jenner on a private plane and whatever ugly rapper she’s fucking now, having sex in that tiny-ass bathroom without getting caught is virtually impossible. Honestly, what’s the appeal here? It’s awkward enough trying to maneuver around someone in the airplane hallways after they’ve just yacked up their lunch, but you can’t even sit on that toilet without an entire butt cheek hanging off and feeling like you’re going to be sucked into a black hole, let alone withstanding the smell of pee you just stepped in. What’s the reward here? A bag of expired peanuts? An attempt for a cool story? At this point, you’re better off giving a handy under the blanket until the fasten seatbelt sign turns on.
