Faking It
Every Sunday morning, between 9:30 and 11:00, my neighbors have sex. Now I'm not sure if the couple is the one above me, a fairly hip guy and and a fairly hip girl, or if it is the couple that shares my wall, a grumpy guy and his wife, neither whom ever respond to my cheery hello. My sneaking suspicion is it's the latter who schedule their coitus. They have two kids, and I suppose Sunday morning is an easily scheduled time. And scheduled sex is great. It's like the Friday you get your paycheck on...
What's strange about it, though, is that it is the fakest sex I've ever heard. Girlfriend can battle even the fiercest of porn starlet moaners. And loudly. She sounds somewhere between a parrot and like she's actually having a good time. Once they were doing it while watching the E True Hollywood Story on Oprah. One day I walked by their apartment and their five year old son (the only one who has ever said hello to me, in fact) was mock moaning into his karaoke machine.
Whenever I walk by my neighbor, Cranky McCrankerson, I say hello and think to myself, "Your wife is faking it."
What's strange about it, though, is that it is the fakest sex I've ever heard. Girlfriend can battle even the fiercest of porn starlet moaners. And loudly. She sounds somewhere between a parrot and like she's actually having a good time. Once they were doing it while watching the E True Hollywood Story on Oprah. One day I walked by their apartment and their five year old son (the only one who has ever said hello to me, in fact) was mock moaning into his karaoke machine.
Whenever I walk by my neighbor, Cranky McCrankerson, I say hello and think to myself, "Your wife is faking it."
posted by vix dupree at 3:48 PM
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