In the time my now ex-boyfriend and I were going out prior to me losing my virginity, he provided me with some 'bedroom entertainment' of other varieties. During one display of his talents he seemed rather appreciative of my chest, which led me to say "I'm glad you like my boobs. I hate my boobs." To which he responded "Boobs are boobs." Complete with shrug. Which led me to laugh in his face and compliment him on his innate ability to make a girl feel like the most special woman in the world.
I got thinking about this today, (Since essentially the past two and a half weeks has been more or less devoted to micro-analysing everything we ever said/did around the other. Although what actually got me on to this particular topic were the naked breasts of every woman over 40 in the changing rooms at the gym whilst the rest of us tried to stay under our towels throughout the drying and changing process.) and wondered what he could have said that wouldn't have made me laugh at him. 'Twin, rose-tipped peaks of desire' would have probably involved a far less lady-like guffaw than he received for his actual response. But I'd have accepted something that made me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
Which got me thinking about the phrase 'sexiest woman/man alive'. Does that mean they're less sexy than some corpses? I'd definitely want him to think me sexier than a corpse. So something like 'you're the sexiest woman alive or dead. Since, let's face it, even guys who are into anorexics have to draw the line somewhere. There's skin and bone and then there's just bone. Unless she was really, really fat when she died so there's still some flesh left to decompose. And you have a really, really good nose plug. Like one of those £4 Speedo ones.' would have been a more appropriate response. Apparently the Paul in my head knows that necrophiliacs have some sort of code of conduct that means that they can't shag the recently deceased and have to give their families some time to grieve before getting their rocks off. How he knows this I have no idea.
So essentially, I'd have been happier if in response to my dislike of my own breasts, he started a debate with me on the ethics of shagging the recently deceased verses those whose families have had time to grieve (whilst we lay naked next to each other in bed), rather than saying something that a completely normal person would say (which caused me to laugh in his face). I think I may have worked out why I'm single. And the fact that I kept laughing in his face whilst we lay in bed together. Like the time he accidentally punched me in the eye, yet again demonstrating his smoothness with the laydays. (The next night I was tempted to cover my eye in black eyeliner before meeting him for dinner. Then I realised that after 30 seconds the joke would be done and I'd be sat through the rest of dinner with eyeliner all over my face. See, I can pretend to be normal.)
We'll forget about the time I laughed at his sex face. That may have actually been a reason for him to break up with me.
This is the sort of thing that happens in my head. A debate on if it's best to have sex with someone who's recently dead so that the family can get all of their upset over and done with at once, or with an older corpse so that the family's come to terms with the death itself so only has the desecration of great-granny Murtle to deal with. Again, Darwin, you heard me last night, yes?
Edit - When I posted this, Blogger informed me that I could get paid for related ads. What kinds of products are suitable for a post on necrophilia? Air fresheners for coffins? One of those fold-up wheely things that you can put boxes on that's guaranteed not to have a squeaky wheel in case you want to take your date somewhere more private without drawing attention to yourself? I may have just invented a product that's marketable to necrophiliacs within about 30 seconds of thinking about it. This is how an undergraduate degree majoring in Business Studies with a focus on marketing does to an already sick, sick mind.
PS - I feel I achieved the ability to live within society when writing this post. After suffering a mental block on the word 'necrophilia' since my trip to the pool lunchtime, I started to Google 'fetish dead people'. Then realised what was about to happen before clicking search. I'm learning people!
Also - Blogger's spell check recognises neither Blogger nor Google. Not recognising your own brand may be the definition of a marketing fail.
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