Who am I?
And, what the hell are you doing here?
Let’s start with the most obvious question, shall we?
You’re here, ladies, because you can’t f*ck.
Oh, stop it. Don’t cringe. No one under the age of 80 clutches their pearls.You might as well get used to it, because for the next six weeks, you’re going to hear that word a lot. And you’re going to say it a lot. Go ahead, try it out on your tongue.
Ok, good. Now where were we?
If you enrolled yourself in this program then you are wholly aware that you’re a lousy lay. Good for you. Admitting it is half the battle.
For those of you that have been sent here by your husband or significant other, dry your tears and get over it. You’ve been given a gift, ladies. The gift of mind-blowing, wall-climbing, multiple-orgasm-inducing sex. You have the opportunity to f*ck like a porn star. And I guarantee, you will when I’m done with you.
And who am I?
Well, for the next six weeks, I will be your lover, your teacher, your best friend, and your worst enemy. Your every-f*cking-thing. I’m the one who is going to save your relationship and your sex life.
I am Justice Drake.
And I turn housewives into whores.
“I’m going to teach you how to fuck your husband.”
Patience is key in my profession. Most days, I feel more like an overworked, underpaid daycare provider than a…lifestyle…coach. Same, same.
It’s like that zombie romance movie, as ridiculous as it sounds. The more I hang around Allison, the more alive I feel. The dark coldness of my heart begins to heat and bloom into something vital, and for once, I feel…normal. Like somehow, I belong.
I’m a lot of things– crass, stubborn, brutally honest, egotistical– but one thing I am not, is careless. I know my boundaries, and I never cross them. In a business where lines can be easily blurred, those boundaries are outlined in black Sharpie, traced in gasoline, then set the fuck on fire, ensuring that no one even gets close enough to inhale the fumes of temptation.
Yet, here I am, touching, tempting, testing the limits. Begging to get burned by an angel with a halo of fire.
I want to breathe. I want to inhale her in every way possible. I want her life to sustain me, her heartbeat to synchronize with mine.
But I don’t want to taint her. I don’t want her to be like me. A cheater. A deviant. An outcast. She deserves better, and I’m not better. Not better than what she already has, which is Evan.
“UNLESS HE’S COMPLETELY desperate or under the influence, a man can’t—and won’t—fuck what doesn’t get him hard.”
Listen up, ladies. We’re fucking tired! You try going jackrabbit-style, throw in some Cirque du Soleil moves and see if you can keep your eyelids peeled. Us passing out after sex is a compliment—a testament to how good it was. And quite frankly, if your dude can hop out of the sack and go to work or run a marathon, then he still has energy left for sex. He’s just done having sex with you.
“THERE’S ONE THING that a man wants you to stroke more than his cock: his ego. Throw in the money and power, and you’ve got a Hulk-size ego that needs to be fed around the clock.”
“Men are like children. They constantly need positive reinforcement. And if they don’t get that, they settle for negative reinforcement.”
Life is just a series of choices. We try to always make the best ones, but really we’re just settling for the lesser of two evils. Or at least trying to.
“So…if you had to give up one, would you rather sacrifice your sight or your hearing?” She asks, going in for more.
“That’s an easy one. Hearing. I’d definitely give up my hearing if I had to.”
“Explain your case, sir.”
“Well, for one, you can still communicate even if you’re deaf. You can sign or read lips. And let’s face it—we live in the age of excessive technology. I could just text or Instagram you.”
“Yeah, but you’d never hear music. You’d never get to hear a child’s laughter or the sound of someone saying, “I love you.” You’d miss out on so much.”
I look at her, seeing her. Trying to make her see me. “But to not be able to see a pink sunset fade to purple or a million stars in the sky, stretching to eternity…you can’t manufacture that. Technology can’t create a smile so bright that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to. It can’t manipulate true beauty. It can try, but it’ll never duplicate that exact shade of red, fiery hair. Or the pattern of cinnamon freckles on your nose. Or even the way your eyes change from blue to green like a mood ring. You can’t forge what has been perfectly designed. That kind of beauty doesn’t require sound or words or even music. It doesn’t need anything else. Anything more and it would overwhelm you.”
“Meh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty good. But sex is just… I don’t know. Just sex. I get why people enjoy it so much, but I just don’t understand why we give it so much power. It’s a physical act of love or affection, not love or affection itself. Relationships are about so much more than sex. It’s about trust, loyalty, honesty, kindness, respect—all things that don’t require a woman to spread her legs.”
“I agree that all of those elements are necessary and required in a relationship, but to be honest, it all leads to sex. You see, we’re sweet and funny and kind because we want sex. We sit through chick flicks, the theater and ballet because we want sex. We wait patiently as you try 83 variations of a black peep-toe pump because we want sex…while you wear the shoes.
“Think of it this way: trust, honesty, respect…all those things are like the playoffs during football season. You need to play them. They’re necessary to get you to where you want to be—the Super Bowl. Sex is the Super Bowl, Ally. And while those playoff games may have gotten you there, they really can’t win the game for you. No one says, “They played great in that game a few weeks ago, so it’s ok that they’re losing now.” It’s how you play the game that day that matters. That’s the only thing people care about.”
You’re worth it. I’ll gladly stay broken for you.
Quirky Phoebe is comforting Ross, telling him to hang in there because no matter what, Rachel is his lobster. And once lobsters meet and fall in love, they mate for life. They always find each other. And sooner or later, Rachel and Ross will be together.
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