Things Girls Do After Boning

By Kendra

Even girls who are cool about sex and not intimidated by it even a little bit still over think the before and the after like no other. We can’t help it; it’s how we’re wired. When the good Lord was creating woman he was like: “You know what’ll be fun? If I make her imagine the best and worst case scenarios about everything from relationships to bagel toppings to buying a new vacuum. This is going to be wildly entertaining for me and Gabriel, here.”

Thanks for laughing at us, God. This why we only go to church on Christmas because Grandma Betty guilt trips us.

But I digress.

Remember how in the before sex piece I mentioned how delivery men see some dark things? Well 75% of the time when I’m ordering too much Thai food in a Lush facemask and my roommate’s basketball shorts, it's because I am post-getting laid and just need to talk to some noodles about it. There may be no “designated check-out times” or lounging around wishing we were having morning sex but every girl has a pretty standard post-bone-city ritual. And while there are some variations with the blondes, brunettes, redheads, and Kylie Jenner blue hairs you’ve been sticking it to, there are some things that every lady does once her pants are back on and you are out the door.

Our close friends are hearing about everything.

And when I say "everything" I do mean literally everything. We get detailed and graphic with it to – some of the grossest things your brain couldn’t even fathom every saying. Something smelled funky? Best friend knows it. You yell Top Gun catchphrases at inappropriate times? Best friend knows it. You wouldn’t go down but got pushy about your own beej time? Best friend knows it and is judging the shit out of you. Life tip: you need to give head to get head.

Our best friends are the ones who we Snapchat lingerie pictures to prior to buying it and the ones who taught us that Neosporin prevents razor burn. They deal with our crazy 1000 times more than any dude ever will so we repay them in cupcakes and overly detailed sex stories.

Dudes show their bros nudes; we talk about your penises while cuddling in bed. It’s the circle of life and it screws us all.

We eat everything.

We knew you were going to see us naked so we fasted in preparation. Girls take prepping for Pound Town like getting ready for The Hunger Games: no prisoners and quitting means certain death. Needless to say, we munched on salted ice cubes in an effort to be looking our skinniest in that Target bra but now that we’re post-coital and fully decked in our gnarly sweatpants we’re going to sit in front of the fridge until that sucker is empty.

Until he loves you he does get to see the competitive eater you could be. So we keep rocking the chicken broth and lettuce to get as close to Karlie Kloss abs as we can and then just eat everything we can get our little paws on the next morning.

Tortilla chips and waffles? Sounds awesome. Grilled cheese made with cream cheese? Don’t mind if I do. I hit up Postmates like it is my goddamn job and make no apologies when they have to go to 8 oz Burger Bar, Chipotle and an ice cream shop for just me: party of one.

We watch Rom Coms and decide which characters you’re most like.

“So I was watching He’s Just Not That Into You and I think he’s totally like Bradley Cooper but not because he would never cheat on me just because he’s like…mysterious and a little ADD. Maybe he’s more like Justin Long because I totally think he’s wise and a little damaged but with the hair and the body of Cooper. I think he’s also like that one guy from that one Nicholas Sparks book because I totally see him sending me letters and building things like, with his hands. HASHTAG RUGGED.”

We start creating our fantasy life, movie worthy with you. We aren’t more than maybe 10% serious and aren’t going to dwell on it because we know that’s not how real life works; it’s just another one of those things God thought would be hilarious to make us do since he didn’t think we’d want the ability to pee standing up.

We create drafts of texts to potentially send.

We’ll never send them, the best friend gets them. But make no mistake that hours are spent agonizing over how to best say, “Look how cool and nonchalant but still wild in the sack I am. I’m the real life version of Kelly Kapowski. You can’t do better than me but I don’t even care what you’re thinking because that’s how amazing I am.”

We go over every tactic we could possibly employ to make you fall under our spell and be on the hook. Unless we weren’t into whatever went down (Or didn’t, ASSHOLE) and then it’s the reverse. Then we’re either talking shit and ignoring you or trying to figure out how to get rid of you. Texting is like an Olympic sport to us and takes hours of planning and prep work. We train for this shit; we take it so seriously.

One of our greatest fears is that one day you’ll see the messages between us and our friends about you. You would never have us again.