Dear Di

Dear Di
I have prepared the following no-go list: member. Hoo-ha. Cooter-cat. Hot-diggity-dog. Pecker. Punani. Johnson. Image: Hailey Otten/Fulcrum
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Time and place

Dear Di,

I’ve recently received poor feedback on my pillow talk and it’s ruined my sex-esteem. I don’t know what I’m saying wrong. Help!

Sexless in Stanton

Dear SiS,

A person of questionable words, are you? While some insight into what foul things you’ve been saying would be nice, I think I can work with this.

There’s a time and place for everything, friend. As an oversharer myself, I understand the urge to word-vomit to friends, customer service workers, passersby — really, any Good Samaritans that foolishly lend an ear. I’ve learned to put a hand on my hip and a finger on my lip and it sounds like you might need to, too. So, next time you’re in the sack, make sure to not bring up any of the following topics.

Your mother. Need I digress? No familial comparisons need to be drawn as anything is going down, capiche?

Be careful with what you refer to your nether-regions as. Upon surveying local community members, I have prepared the following no-go list: member. Hoo-ha. Cooter-cat. Hot-diggity-dog. Pecker. Punani. Johnson. The list goes on. If you think to yourself, “would it be weird to say this?” Yeah, probably.

Do let them know about any STI/STDs. Once consent has been established, do not graphically bring them up throughout the soiré. “What does that mean,” you might ask? Well, it means to disclose that which you have but don’t say, “Oh, god. Oh, god. It burns. It burns so bad, deep in the marrow of my bones.” At least, not while the exchange is transpiring. It just, how they say, spoils the evening.

Save the kiss-list for later. Steer clear of playing the name-game, comparing how many ‘bodies’ (god, I hate this term), and definitely do not call them the wrong name.

You could try out being mysterious. Don’t ask them when their Uber is coming, but also don’t fake your name and entire identity — narrow tightrope to walk, I know.

Despite what romantic comedies may recommend, leave the singalong for later. You could sing an original — I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t sing “Anaconda” by Nicki Minaj, but hey — not my circus, not my monkeys. 

If any of these came as a surprise to you, it’s too late. 

Love,

Di