Last week we introduced you to an original essay from author Jill Kargman, whose new collection, Sometimes I Feel Like A Nut, comes out February 1st (that’s today! Buy her book!). This week, Jill picks up where she left off on the topic of hot, nerdy sex.
Sex With Nerds Pt. 2
In later years I made the same mistake, falling for other studs, known around campus for their good looks, skills on the field, or on the stage. But then I met a former nerd, or should I say recovering nerd (like alcoholics—you never truly break free) who doted on me with such a magnanimous love that in a way I was ruined for all other alleged cool cats. He lost his virginity to me and was so incredibly emotional and devoted and poetic. I know what you’re thinking: uh, yeah, and he probably was an anal astronaut and wanted to take it in the seat, but NO! That’s what I’m trying to say here. Nerds are less obsessed with the XYY chromosomal manly bullshit and therefore know better how to relate to girls like we’re not some alien species that parked our pink flying saucers on the back lawn. Even though we split up after about six months (a lifetime in teen years), that guy taught me that I should never settle for anything less, and that feeling cherished was important to me.
Think about it, after years of whackin’ it rather than rollin’ with the homies at some house party, nerds are more grateful. They try harder in bed. They care more about pleasing you because they want to make sure they can keep you versus some scalding heartbreaker who knows you are replaceable and some nouvelle pair of gams will be spread to him like a smorgasbord, putting the “cum” in homecoming queen or the “cunt” in Country Club.
Okay, so maybe you don’t believe me. Maybe you’ve seen too many movies and still want to fuck a macho man over a mathlete. I hear you, loud and clear. I do. But consider this: everyone likes to say “life is short,” but I say life is looong. You want to go for distance not speed, girls.
Take, for example, two bona fide teen movie tools: One, the primo, the zenith, or shall I say nadir of nerdom in the John Hughesian teen pantheon: The god of geeks, Anthony Michael Hall. Yes he, of metal mouth and scrawny frame, is now buff tough and still a star with his own show on some cable channel I don’t watch but other people do! And donde esta Jake-e-poo? I heard he’s literally a lumberjack in the backwoods of some rectangular Red State in the middle. Like, gag me with a chainsaw!
Next up: Patrick Dempsey, who played Ronald the lawn-mowing dork who doted on the buxom blonde Cindy Mancini, the pom-pom-toting popular girl in school. Now he’s McDreamy! Ahhh the difference a couple decades make. The studs max out at seventeen and are often, from their big habits are raaaagin’ life of the party, well-accustomed to a life of bottoms-up and panties down. The net result? Fatso by forty. And what of their sexual palate, trained that variety is the spice of life? If marriage or long term relationships seem to be getting bland, isn’t it common sense that after countless years of multiple seasonings, one might be tempted to add the Tabasco® of a tempting secretary?