And the floodgates open’d…

(H waxing poetic in old English on the joys of getting laid):

and having tasted fruit of the loins of a woman, nay, not a dull shrew but a woman, a woman who drinketh with joy from the bodily cup and rejoiseth, having drunk the nectar from the cup, he found himself proclaiming and desirous of another such cup; for he was in exile, slavishly at labor, drinking wine with the old men in the marketplace; but now, having sipped from a different pitcher, and licked his lips obscenely, he grew yet more desirous to drink from more such cups, nay, not of the old men, but of the young and nubile and in possession of low hanging fruit, so that he may sate himself again, and i say, yet again; for he recalled the joys of the other gender, where the other gender seemed joyless and genderless, but he recalled things now, wilde things, forests wondrous and pubic, imperfect and pale, and all the more wondrous for it; and he found himself thirsting all the more.

Thank you for this, and every other piece of brilliance, my dear BFF! <3