I Choose You: Six Pokémon That I Would (Hypothetically) Have Sex With

So it’s sex week again, and while those with sex lives (or just lives in general) are out getting some, those of us who write for Sherman Ave aren’t as fortunate are with the only thing that’s ever loved us – videogames.  So while I sit in my hallway, trying to not hear the sounds of my roommate’s passionate encounters, I couldn’t help but think of the top six Pokémon that make me wanna use the moves “Harden” and “Pound.”

1. Ditto
“I want it that way.” With Ditto, that phrase is not just the name of a song by the Backstreet Boys. Much like Burger King, Ditto lets you have it your way. Ditto can transform into anyone you want – Jennifer Lawrence, that hot girl in your bio class, your Russian Lit TA, Jennifer Lawrence…the possibilities are endless. Fantasies could be fulfilled. Plus, doing it would be less gross, because it wouldn’t seem like you were doing it with a Pokémon. Which, when you think about it, is pretty weird.

Good idea, or great idea?

2. Jynx
Often referred to as being ‘hotter than Moltres, but in a different way.’ Alternatively known as ‘that one Pokémon that’s kinda racist.’ Really the only Pokémon that is blatantly supposed to look like a trashy ‘lady of the night.’ Also the only one given boobs for no apparent reason. Considering that “Kiss” is one of its moves, as well as “Lick,” its ready for anything. It’s not designed to look like a seductress for nothing. It just wants you to go ahead and ‘Cubone’ it. Come on. Its not weird to admit you’ve thought about it. Okay, it is weird, but not that weird.

An Open Letter to the Female Body

Dear Female Body,

First of all, I’d like to start things off by saying that I think you’re great. I know it’s been an awful long time since you last encountered me fumbling about you, but just so you know, I’m plumb crazy about you.

Thirteen-year-old me would totally hit that.

Now, ever since the 5th grade I’ve thought that a woman’s body was a marvelous thing to behold. A veritable chalice of perfection, the female form captured my imagination with its gentle slopes and lush form. Also: boobies.

Needless to say, I have been enraptured by your feminine mystique and sexual reproductive system for quite some time now. Yet I never understood until recently how fucking awesome you really are.

You see, a bunch of experts unearthed some real sciencey facts about the uterus that just totally blew my fucking mind. No, I’m not talking about menstruation, although I’m still a bit iffy about how you line that shit up with the lunar phases.

Apparently, after much scientific inquiry and consultation with the world’s leading medical experts, Rep. Todd Akin discovered something amazing about you:

“First of all, from what I understand from doctors [pregnancy from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

Holy shit! And this guy’s on the House Committee on Science, Space, and Technology, so this nerd must know his science facts. I mean, I kind of figured that House Republicans were the world’s foremost experts on the cooch, considering how frequently they enter ones that don’t belong to their wives. Why else would the GOP try to legislate the female body so heavily if they didn’t already know what was best for you?

But please be square with me, female body. When were you going to tell me about this awesome power of yours? And anyways, if you’ve had this ability to pick and choose with your cervix or whatever the hell is down there what counts as, like, legitski’s rape and what’s just a fuzzy jungle-juice induced night, why in God’s name would you lie about those roughly 32,000 annual pregnancies that you just claimed were the result of rape? Did you really think we were that stupid?

Like, how does this power of yours even work? Rep. Akin was a little unclear on the details. Is it like Teeth, were you can suddenly spring a pair of pearly whites on any unwanted penis that comes within a yard of your lady parts? Because a skill like that would certainly shut any motherfucker down.

Forcible rape? No no no bro, this was just a panty raid gone horribly awry.

Or maybe it’s like Star Wars, where fallopian tubes are really like Admiral Ackbar in Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, sending out X-Wing Fighters to target the rape-induced pregnancy’s one weakness and blow the whole thing to hell.

What’s this, female body? You’ve never seen Star Wars? You’ve got to be kidding me.

Alright then, since when did you even become so judicious, female body? What about that one dude in college who’s still dating his high school-aged girlfriend, regardless of things like “geographical distance” and “statutory rape laws?” How do you know whether he’s, like, rape-raping her, or just, you know legal-age-of-consent-raping her. Since when were you able to act with precise biochemical certainty on legal vagaries like Romeo and Juliet laws?

And what if you’ve been roofied by some dude during Spring Break, like one in four of the unlucky college women who are victims of rape or attempted rape? Are your labia able to identify, and then shut down, the impending rape as “legitimate” even while skeletal muscle relaxant courses through your blood?

Just wondering.

Okay, I’ll stop pestering you about this. Like a magician, you don’t have to detail exactly how your wonderful feminine form defends its turf from legit rape as if the cervix is the DMZ or the Baltimore Ravens’ secondary or something.

Until we meet again, female body. Which, let’s be honest, probably won’t be anytime soon now that any prurient inclination of mine has been scared shitless of your awe-inspiring security system.

Sincerely,
Evander Jones

p.s. Sorry, just one last question for you, oh beautiful female form. Where, exactly, is this clitoris you speak so highly of?

The Latest In Rape Prevention: Vagina Dentata

The Latest In Rape Prevention: Vagina Dentata

 

It has come to my attention, with the opening of CARE and tonight’s Take Back the Night event, that there are some men in this world who still do not realize that their pee-pees are not always welcome in our jay-jays[1].

Thankfully, most people will never understand the logic behind this phenomenon. Evolutionary and biological psychology holds that men generally have a higher sex drive because men take quantity of genes spread over quality of genes spread. In other words, they argue that the more “naval troops” a man sends to occupy Vagistan, the more likely it is that his genes will be passed on, whereas women are more careful with what they fuck because we don’t want to waste nine months lugging moron genes around in our uteruses (uteri?). There’s also the “rape myth” (women actually want it and will enjoy it, they’re just playing hard-to-get), and the idea that sexual violence is more about a drive for power than a drive to bump uglies. Don’t ask me why rape happens; I’m not touching that can of worms. Whatever the reason is, men continue to force sex upon women despite years of repeated nagging, which goes to show us that nagging does not work, and it’s time to change evolutionary biology.

Women should evolve vagina teeth.

Ladies, doesn’t it suck to feel powerless against potential rapists after dark in the quad, dressed in a short skirt and fishnets? Do you glare at the strapping young lads passing you by to let them know you’re not only aware of your surroundings but really, really scary? Have you ever actually tried using that mace? Cause I haven’t needed to (the glare must have worked), but in the case of an actual emergency I want to have a weapon that doesn’t require skill, and aiming is hard. Solution? Canines in the vagines.

This is not a new idea. It has appeared in many a lunchtime conversation during my high school days. And according to Wikipedia, “folk stories are frequently told as cautionary tales warning of the dangers of sex with strange women, to discourage rape, and around campfires at Boy Scout outings in an attempt to incentivize good Christian abstinence,” so apparently someone has thought of this before me.  Let me clarify: I’m not advocating an end to hookups. God no. They’re all we have left at Northwestern to convince us that we’ll be sexually acceptable in the real world. I’m advocating a built-in trump card. Think about it: the ability to castrate men if they insert themselves into unwanted places will make assholes less free with their willies.

And you know what else?  It will be very difficult in most cases for a man to argue that she was “asking for it,” or for a woman to argue that she was raped when she wasn’t. If that lady doesn’t want the cucumber in her baby kitchen, there’s gonna be a very finely sliced cucumber to show for it. This will eliminate a large amount of ambiguity in the legal system. In fact, I’d like us all to close our eyes and imagine the judicial trials of potential rapists. “Is the defendant’s quiverbone still attached?” “Only some of it, your honor.” “Then she probably didn’t want it in her coochie-snorcher. Case closed.”

I’m not really sure how we’re going to evolve this. Maybe we can invest in some vagina dentures for high-risk women or something, and the rest of our vaginas will catch on that this is a good idea. Our copycat reproductive systems seem to collectively believe that aligning our periods with our roommates and best friends is a fucking brilliant idea, so it shouldn’t take too long to catch on. “Oh, there’s blood coming out of your vagina? I want some too!” Fuck you and your weird habits, genitalia.

I’m also not sure what medical care our nether pearly whites will need…toothbrushes? We’ll see. Til then, the mace, prayer, and angry glare are going to have to suffice.

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[1] Disclaimer: A friend of mine has noted that the majority of Northwestern frat boys she has hooked up with will immediately freak the fuck out and back away at least three feet in terror if a chick tells them “no” in the bedroom. To those: thank you. Your mommas taught you well.