Is my wax wonky?
Am I eating too much?
It’s the dinner before first-time sex. Or an anniversary meal and you’ve gone somewhere nice because you know, sex is on the menu. And you’re worth it. But do you have a salad or is that completely lame because you are at a really delicious restaurant that serves things like whipped, smoked butter with soda bread? Do you risk being too farty to…follow through. Too tubby to….take part? That is the question.
Will I miss my slot?
Yes, Netflix and chill is a good plan. I can’t think of anything nicer then a box set followed by some actual sex… Shit I fell asleep during the first ten minutes of House of Cards and you put a blanket on me and now it’s 3am and nothing good happens at 3am.
Where the fuck is my good underwear?
You know that Agent Provocateur knicker and bra set that you break out on special occasions. It’s a bit tight and bulgy these days but still. So uncomfortable. Can I even remember how to put it on? Or take it off? Oh whatever, it’s not the packaging that matters, right?
What happens if I laugh?
There’s always the risk. Nerves you know. But it can have a very deflating effect. Must not laugh. Must not… Oh God.
Do I fake tan?
Can I really get the right amount of drunk?
Just that little bit lubricated. Jolly. Tequila-tinted. Prosecco-perfect. Gin and juiced. Not falling over and suggesting a threesome with the neighbour. That would be bad.
Is there life on other planets? Can courgette ever really hit the spot?