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Sex is like pizza.

When it's good, it's great, and even when it's bad, it's still pretty good... assuming it's made by someone who actually knows what they're doing. Pizza made by someone who doesn't know what they're doing, though, can result in food poisoning or lacerations or having your house burned down.

You can have pizza by yourself, but it's better when it's shared with at least one other person, as long as that person isn't too selfish.

Plain pizza is perfectly fine, but there are lots of different toppings you can add to make it even better - as long as you discuss them with everyone and come to an agreement beforehand.

A few people have weird dietary restrictions for medical reasons and can't have most pizza at all, but can usually be accomodated if you don't mind paying a bunch extra for pizza that tastes kinda weird and unnatural.

Most people will get hungry for pizza eventually, but some people are temporarily or permanently not interested and that is okay and trying to force pizza down their throat isn't generous, it's just weird and gross and nasty. Some people who want pizza just want a slice or two, others will eat as much as their bodies can physically withstand, if you let'em.

The main difference between sex and pizza is that successfully crafting a pizza is an Int check - in a skill that Jamie is optimized for - and successfully having sex is Charisma (or, depending on who you ask, Wisdom).

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

EB: Alright, Jamie, I know we didn't specify this at the outset, and... in retrospect, maybe I should have realized that I needed to, but...
EB: I initiated this relationship under the assumption that we would be romantically and sexually monogamous with each other, and that includes not fucking me while my friend watches from three feet away and tells you what to do to my clitoris.
JH: I just... I'm just so frustrated that I can't... do for you what I want to do. I literally kicked you that one time.
EB: Seriously, Jamie, you were fine. You are fine.
JH: I'm really not. I'm bad at... like... everything.
EB: You don't have to beat yourself up about it, it's not... it's... performance is not really something I worry about.
MH: Let it go, Ellen. He's not going to be able to drop it. It's a boy thing. Why do you think half the spam in the world's inboxes are for magic boner pills?
MH: It's an extension of the "you have communicated a problem, therefore I must solve it" mentality that dudes have. Penises have a way of simplifying the thought process.
JH: Oh good. Lily was here earlier, but she didn't condescendingly generalize about male psychology enough, I was worried I might not get my daily dose.