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Sex & Culture

The Joys of Having Sex With Ugly People
Sex

The Joys of Having Sex With Ugly People

This begins the way many good sex stories do: A young woman was sitting alone at a bar.  She (I) spotted a man who promptly induced a fluttering between my legs, so much so that I had to cross them to keep my girlish excitement from working its way up through my chest and planting itself on my cheeks as two pink disks. This man had a good sense of humor—I’d been eavesdropping on his banter with the bartender and smiling every so often in acknowledgment of a punch line—and he gripped his drink with a tensed thumb and pointer finger, as if his entire body were charged.  He was also ugly. Not sexy ugly in a cow-eyed Javier Bardem just-left-of-handsome way. And he didn’t possess an intriguing imperfection, such as a snaggletooth à la Jewel or Joaquin Phoenix’s harelip. This man was thin-lipped and beady-eyed, with chunky thighs that caused his slacks to gather in the center and hike at the ankles. While this may be some women’s dream, it’s not mine. He was ugly—to me. And…

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