Last night I turned to my roommate and earnestly asked her, “Honey, have you met your asshole before?”
“WHAT?!” she screamed.
“It’s an honest question. Are you familiar with your own asshole?”
“No,” she sputtered. “I mean, if you’re asking me if we communicate, then the answer is no. My asshole and I don’t really talk.”
I wasn’t surprised. Besides gay men, who really KNOWS their asshole intimately? Straight girls certainly don’t and straight men are legitimately terrified of them. One inappropriate graze and they’re convinced that they might be gay. In preparation for writing this serious journalistic piece, I asked my straight co-worker, BSG, if he and his asshole were on speaking terms and I saw his neck immediately stiffen up.
“I mean, sort of. I don’t know!”
Liar. You know jack shit about your own asshole. You ignore it like it’s a bastard child, which is so insensitive. Have you ever considered the fact that you might be doing psychological damage to your butthole if you ignore it? All it wants is to be friends, to be acknowledged as an important orifice on your body. Imagine if your asshole just got fed up with being iced out and decided to pack its bags and leave! You’d just be a donut without a hole and that would be miserable, wouldn’t it? I don’t even want to get into the complications that would arise if you were to be abandoned by your butthole. You’d be calling it collect and begging it to come back in two seconds.
People need to finally get over the fear of their own assholes and spend some quality time with it. Take it out to dinner one night. Play it some Sade. Introduce it to your finger. Make it feel loved. (Just don’t go so far as to make out with it because then you’re at risk of contracting hepatitis or something.) Learn about its hopes and dreams. Really take the time to get to know each other.
Now, to be fair, if I weren’t gay, maybe I too would be afraid of my asshole, but clearly I didn’t have the luxury of being a shy girl. If I wanted to have any semblance of a sex life, I had to become the hostess with the mostess and make my asshole immediately feel at home. This involved loosening it up in the shower via exercises and forcing foreign dicks inside of it. At first I could tell my asshole was hurt, both literally and figuratively, for letting something else i.e. a dick come between us but eventually it accepted it and actually came to ENJOY getting played with. Really, when you think about it, an asshole is just starved for attention. If you give it a simple side smile, it’ll be content.
So take this as a call to action. Stop deluding yourself into thinking that you don’t have an asshole and embrace it! Go to brunch with your friends and talk about how your asshole is feeling. Text it when you’re feeling lonely. Do everything you can to feel connected to it. And if all else fails, just stick a tiny pen in it.