I got in a rather randy mood the other day and decided to talk dirty to Betty.
"Mud," I said aloud.
"What?!" she asked.
"Dirt mixed with water. Dirty, muddy water," I answered, cool as a cucumber.
"Um... I have no idea what you're talking about. But if it's about sex, I'm not in the mood."
I figured she was playing hard to get, so I said, "Dragging dirt into the house. Eating off the floor."
"Yeah, our floor's filthy," she said. She always says that. But it's really never all that bad. But I liked how she was finally starting to play along.
"Oooh," I ooohed, "yeah that floor's filthy. That's a dirty, dirty floor!"
"No, seriously, the floor's filthy," she said. "Would you go sweep and mop it for me?"
Now we're talking! I know that nothing turns a woman on more than a man doing housework (most likely while flexing his six-pack and biceps simultaneously) so I went straight away to the kitchen to start sweeping. And after thirty minutes sweeping and mopping, I realized that the floor really was filthy, and that being surrounded by filth was not all that sexy.
I went back to Betty to apologize for talking such dirty, dirty talk to her.
"Endust," I whispered. "Windex. A mopped kitchen... a vacuumed carpet... the white glove test...."
Time for some Clean Talk!
The Existential Terror of Battle Royale
5 weeks ago