I'm Having More Fun Than You by Aaron Karo

if I see her underwear anywhere and I say, “I can’t find it. All I see is this candy wrapper.” She’s like, “No, that’s it.”
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    GLOSSARY
     
    SB (PRONOUNCED “SIB”)
     
    SB is short for “surprise body.” A SB is a girl who, when you remove her bulky clothing while hooking up, turns out to have an amazing figure. There’s nothing like taking that J.Crew rollneck off to discover a six-pack and two cannons beneath all that wool. Unfortunately, SBs are very rarely found in the wild, but are more prevalent in frigid, mountainous states and at North Face headquarters.
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    When I moved from New York to Los Angeles, I joked that I was coming to LA to further my comedy career and for the opportunity to touch fake breasts for the first time. Maybe I’m naïve, but to me, fake breasts fall into that same category as strange piercings and tattoos—if a girl’s got ’em, clearly she likes to get down. I mean, no chick with an eyebrow ring has ever said, “You can’t take my pants off. It’s a long story.” When I finally did touch my first pair of fake breasts, I was kind of disappointed. They were, like, little Cs. If you’re gonna get fake breasts, you should be walking around with weapons of mass destruction. Fuck little Cs, you should have triple Zs. Your breasts should be so big you’re living in the bell tower at Notre Dame, that’s how much of a hunchback you are.
    I once hooked up with a girl who had her own eyes tattooed on the middle of her back. That’s right—the tattoo artist sketched her eyes, and then made a tattoo of them. But it wasn’t a tramp stamp—you could only see the tattoo if she was topless and had her back to you. I like to believe this girl got the tattoo for the sole purpose of creating the illusion that you’re looking into her eyes while banging her from behind—which of course defeats the whole purpose of doggie style.
    HOOKED UP
     
    Another flaw in my arsenal is that I’m not really good at hooking up…sober. It just happens so rarely that I never get any practice. Unless I’m in a serious relationship, I can’t really imagine a scenario where I would be hooking up without having a few drinks first. When I’m sober, I get too far inside my head and start to overthink things I’d never even consider if I was wasted. My inner monologue is like, “Hmm…should I lick her nipple? I don’t know. Do people even lick nipples anymore? Yeah, I’m thinking that should be my next move. Oh man, I could really use a tequila shot.”
    I think if sex were a sport my scouting report would say that my biggest weakness is spooning. I’ve never really mastered the technique. Why am I on my side? I feel so out of place. By thirty I thought I would have addressed all the holes in my game. Instead I’m completely worthless unless the girl is braless, I’m wasted, and there’s no spooning involved.
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    MAILBAG
     
    One of the questions I get most frequently from my female readers is, “What are guys thinking about during sex? Is he thinking about me? Is he thinking about Jessica Alba? Is he thinking about his fantasy football team? What’s the deal?” Well, if we’re talking about a one-night stand, surprisingly the answer is none of the above. Usually I’m thinking, “Oh man, I can’t believe I’m actually having sex right now—this is awesome! I’m so happy I decided to go out tonight! Dude, in ninth grade, did you ever actually think you’d be having semi-regular sex? I don’t think so! This is so cool!” I guess the novelty just never wears off.
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    I’ve recently been informed that I text incorrectly because I use my right thumb and left index finger instead of both thumbs, which is apparently how the rest of the world does it. Normally I wouldn’t be too concerned, but about five years ago, I found out that I also snap incorrectly (I use my thumb and index finger instead of thumb and middle finger). Now I can’t stop thinking about why the