That moment when your partner/husband gyrates behind you in the kitchen as you’re unloading the dishwasher. That. I thought I was alone in this sporadic kitchen-based gyrating but no – the more people I speak to about this primitive act, the more admit to being domestically dry humped.
Is scrubbing a stubborn grain of porridge from your IKEA bowls really the red light for ‘let’s get it on?’ Are marigolds the new knee-highs? Does Fairy Liquid have the same allure as Durex’s ‘hot ‘n’ spicy’ (eek) lube? Oh who knows.
In the past I always wanted to resemble Sienna Miller in Layer Cake (before she got a bit trampy with Balthazaar) before getting at it. These days, I’m not going to let a porridge grain get in the way of keeping The Love Bank alive and well.
Only if the dishwasher has been unstacked, of course.
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