I’m haunted by the triceratops sex position. And NOT because I’ve been a participant … or because it’s … icky.
Numbers on the blog went mental again yesterday. I’m presuming there was rerun of a certain Blackish episode mentioning the three-horned sex act.
Viewers get very curious when Blackish mentions the three-horned sex act and start madly Googling it. (My favourite Google search term being “triceratops sex position for humans.” Poor triceys, nobody cares about how they did it. Though there are artists’ renditions of that as well, which are far less complicated and confronting than the diagrams for the human version.)
However, cyberspace is lacking in three-horned sex act entries … which is why HouseGoesHome features quite prominently in the Google search results.
HouseGoesHome didn’t mean to feature prominently in the search results, it was an accident relating to a blog I wrote about two canny chicks who’ve made a fortune out of writing soft porn e-books about women shagging dinosaurs (the triceratops type, not the elderly type) (I know).
Confession: I shouldn’t feel mushy about my renewed dino-sex infamy, but it makes me feel all whimsical and nostalgic about my first “date” with DD.
While our date didn’t include any dino sex, I talked about it a lot.
You see, it was my first meeting with an RSVP-type person and I had the jitters. It lead me to make some major faux pas. The first was getting myself a cider before DD arrived.
Apparently the correct etiquette is to wait until your RSVP date arrives to start drinking.
I would counter that the correct etiquette on a first RSVP date is not taking your thongs off then put your bare feet on the chair beside me.
But, hey …
My next faux pas was discussing a sex position on a first RSVP date. I thought I was regaling DD with an amusing anecdote about the crazy life of a blogger, but in retrospect it may have come across as being a little … forward (mind you, he was holding my hand electronically five days later – via text message – while I waited to get my Mirena inserted, so there’s been nothing linear about our relationship).
My third and biggest faux pas was texting DD two days later at 6.30am to enquire about a second date.
Not. The. Done. Thing.
When I told fellow blogger and internet dating veteran Kerri Sackville recently about the 6.30am text her eyes went very wide and her mouth dropped open.
I’m taking that as a sign DD was right about my behaviour being a little … unusual.
But he got over it – we’re still together eight months later.
And the triceratops sex position continues to be an amusing anecdote.
I think …
Not. The. Done. Thing?
Song of the day: The Troggs “Wild Thing”