“The difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it” – Woody Allen

“No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor” – Betty Friedan

 

Sex in the movies is totally, thoroughly and abso-freaking-lutely different from sex in real life. In the movies, sex is what it is – sexy. In real life, it is not. Because in the movies, hot people burst through the door, pulling on each other’s clothes, tongues interlocked as if their lives depended on this fleeting moment. They are all ready to go. ACTION!!! On the contrary, in real life, real people have real priorities. And that comes first.

In the movies, sensual music plays in the background. The couple is usually hot people with perfectly toned bodies and nice contour, having sex in an apartment that looks like it cost a million bucks. In real life, sex involves a lot of pleading, sporadic bribery (not always with cash o) and some undercover tryst.

In the movies, the hot people have the most amazing and sensual pillow talk before the main koko. In real life, the talk would involve the unpaid bills, the children’s school fees, mama coming to visit from the village, the village king selling a plot of land meant for the whole community, and stuffs like that.

In the movies, it doesn’t matter what surface the lashing and kpanshing takes place on – rough, smooth, semi-rough, semi-smooth – it doesn’t matter. In real life, surfaces matter a great deal. I mean, BIG TIME! Care is taken not to break the expensive vase Uncle Tunde got the couple as a wedding gift from Dubai, and extra care is taken not to damage baby’s favorite toy.

In the movies, the lady arrives in an expensive chauffeur-driven car, in red stilettos, dressed up seductively for the act that lay in wait. In real life, shawty lands on an okada, wearing a tight pair of blue faded jeans, flip-flops and a red beret, with a small purse which harbors her phone. She calls out to you to get 100bucks to pay the okada man before she enters the house.

In the movies, the hot people share a bottle of expensive champagne and some strawberries soaked in vanilla, before the action starts. In real life, the girl would be lucky to get a plate of Indomie noodles. Then a bottle of Guinness Stout for the guy. And we all know that stout causes occasional burping, and in some cases, farting.

In the movies, the guy doesn’t waste any time and proceeds to tearing the lady’s pink lingerie while flipping her stilettos to the far corner of the room. Try that in real life, and you would turn to a human ATM over the next couple of weeks. You go buy her new shoes, new underwear…no be okrika o! Plus isi-ewu and nkwobi to appease the gods of feminism.

In the movies, the apartment looks clean with beautiful portraits hanging on the wall and the room well decorated. In real life, in the one room apartment, the floor is covered with torn carpet, a flat bed on the floor, painting peeling off the wall, a table and a chair by the side, luggage packed at the edge of the room close to the foot of the bed. You are tempted to try out a move you saw in a movie – keeping the chick on top of the table. But you are scared because her idi nla fit scatter the table and you’d have to raise cash to buy a new one.

In the movies, the room is well lit with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In real life, PHCN strikes as the action wan start. There is no petrol in the small Tiger generator. You light a candle. It is at this moment that the evil mosquitoes start circulating around, making those horrible tiny sounds. Perspiration sets in; I mean, severe one o. Grasping body parts become difficult. The whole kporogomunu becomes frustrating. You blame the government, you blame the devil, you blame your landlord and anyone that comes to mind at that instant.

In movies, the bum shorts look sexy and tempting. This ultimately makes way to reveal sleek panties that grasps the gluteus in the perfect order. In real life, wifey is tying a wrapper around her bosom coming out of the kitchen, with soup smear on her lips from tasting the meal a hundred times.

In the movies, the couple doesn’t give a phuck about the neighbors hearing their moans and groans. They shout on top of their voices. They kick their feet in the air and dig into their backs. In real life, the couple has to make sure the kids are sleeping and the sounds are reduced to the barest minimum. Otherwise, they’d get a visit from their visibly angry landlord in the morning.

And after the escapade is over, they doze off and snore away! Sex, sex, sex!

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