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It's kinda cute how Jamie thinks that attending his high school's sex ed class would make him actually good at fucking. Cute and sad.

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(Thursday afternoon, INT: JH and EB's living room)

MH: Literally. For fuck's. Sake.
MH: Do you need me to run a sex ed class for you two? I have a condom in my pocket right now, do you have any bananas I can demonstrate with?
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EB: Again, I'm on the pill, and...
MH: And the pill is only ninety-nine point nine percent effective. So you fuck a measly thousand times, BAM, you're pregnant.
EB: I really don't think the math works like that.
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MH: That's why you layer your methods whenever possible. Add your nines together so you can fuck a million times.
EB: I'm positive the math doesn't work like that. Or the biology.
JH: Y'know, I never actually had a sex ed class. Might explain why I've been so incredibly bad at... things.
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MH: Hey, if you like, I could sit in for a session or two, offer you some pointers.
JH: That would actually be really helpfu-
EB: NO.