The sex-ception list

I believe that clear, honest communication is vital to maintaining healthy relationships. I think that open dialogue is critical to developing trust, which is required if you want the relationship to survive. To that end, the most important part of any romantic relationship is developing, at an early stage, your sex-ception list.

If you aren’t familiar with the sex-ception list, I’ll explain it. It is a list of 3 or 5 (or really any number you want, though 3,864 might not be practical) celebrities who, if you had the opportunity not only to meet them, but to have sex with them, you could, and your partner couldn’t get mad. It has to be celebrities though; the whole point of the list is that it’s a fantasy. You couldn’t say, “Well, I’ll put that cute girl who works at Blockbuster... my ex-girlfriend, cause she won’t stop booty calling me... and your sister, cause she keeps giving me bedroom eyes when I come over.” The point of the list is that you put celebrities because it’s incredibly unlikely that you will ever meet a celebrity who will want to sleep with you, so if you manage to, your partner should just treat it as a dream come true.

So I’m thinking about my sex-ception list, when I get to wondering, “How do celebrity couples come up with these lists?” All their friends are celebrities. They couldn’t just put on people they know, that defeats the purpose of the list. Can you imagine Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie coming up with their lists? “I’m putting Jennifer Aniston on mine.” “You can’t do that, she’s my ex!” It would never work. They couldn’t just use celebrities, they know everybody.

Maybe they use the super-celebrities. You know, world leaders and the like; people who are in a whole different layer of fame. But then every celebrity’s list would start looking pretty similar. They’d all be made up of the same handful of people at the upper echelon of world famousnessosity. Everyone’s lists would just be the Queen of England, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, Batman and Osama bin Laden.

And speaking of Osama bin Laden, our government has been after him for 16 years (in conjunction with bombings in 1992). For the last six and a half years, he has been public enemy number one. Our government has absolutely no idea where he is. Their tactics have failed. But I’ve come up with a surefire winner. If Angelina Jolie went on TV right now and announced to the world that Osama bin Laden was on her sex-ception list, he would surface in no time. The Department of Defense would get a call 10 seconds after that message aired saying he was ready to surrender as long as he got his Angelina prize. An eternity with 70 virgins is nothing compared to one night with that woman.

I don’t even think Angelina Jolie is that attractive. All my friends, my whole family, everyone is always telling me how she’s gorgeous, how she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Quite frankly, I don’t see the appeal. I can think of hundreds of women I find more attractive. But if I discovered that Angelina Jolie had added me to her sex-ception list? I would run to her house naked from here. I don’t care if she’s over in Cambodia, or whatever mine-filled hellhole she was living in, I’d still run there naked from here. I wouldn’t even get wet. I’d be moving so fast, I’d just be skimming along the surface of the water like Jesus on speed. I’d be passing fishing boats full of confused fishermen: “Was that the second coming of Christ?” “No, he just found out Angelina Jolie would have sex with him.” “Oh... let us kill him out of spite.”

Hell, maybe that’s how celebrity couples come up with their sex-ception lists. They just pick normal people. It makes sense; celebrities and normal people don’t interact much. When was the last time you were at a party and the host was introducing people to you, “And this is Dave and Donna, and of course you know Alex, and Steve, and this is George Clooney, and over here is Daryl...” I can just imagine Brad and Angelina sitting at their breakfast table, poring over podunk newspapers from around the nation. Brad calmly flips a page in the Des Moines Register-Guard, points to a picture of a young woman, “I’ll take her. Don’t often find myself in Iowa, but the next time I’m there, I may just give Ruth Metcalf here a call.”

Every single woman (and one very confused little boy) named Ruth Metcalf in Iowa just stripped off her clothes and is en route to Brad Pitt’s house as you read this. I do my part to make your local news interesting.