The worst thing about morning sex?

The leakage that occurs afterward.

You know what I’m talking about. You’ve just gotten out of the car, you are walking into work, when BAM! The wet spot is all up in your ladybits. So you oh-so-gracefully shuffle your way in, set down your purse, & high-tail it to the bathroom.

Clean up on the lingerie aisle, please.

But oh, it’s not over. You’re trucking along with your day, with nary a thought to this morning’s events (well, okay, maybe a thought… or two… or, who’s counting?). You stand up to hand a client something, & wait? What’s that?! Oh, damn it.

Sometimes I feel like I should carry a spare pair of undies in my purse. & then I think about how I could make so much money if I invented a machine like the tampon/pad machines in bathrooms that dispensed individually wrapped pairs of undies & they could be in bathrooms around the world & surely 20-something college girls & hookers & probably hot doctors having hot sex in the on-call rooms would put $1 worth of quarters into a machine to get a fresh (albeit cheap) pair of undies. ::deep breath:: Sorry, I kind of got carried away there.

So, back to my original point. Morning sex means that I have to carry the wet spot around with me half the day.

NOT fair.


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