Nothing feels better than waking up and knowing you have a hot date lined up for the evening. It’s not just any date, it’s the date with that special someone you’ve been seeing for a few weeks. Sure, things have gotten hot and heavy before, but this time, it’s the real thing because, somehow, while you were sleeping, you made a very important decision: you’re finally going all the way.

You start out your day just like any other. Except today, all those formerly interesting lectures on imperialism are now intolerable. You suffer through them, but the whole time you’re wondering whether to wear the lacy, racy, red thong that screams “I knew I would sleep with you when I put these on.” Or maybe, you really like this guy and you want to pretend that you really weren’t going to sleep with him. So you opt for the ‘nice-girl’ pink ones with the full back. Of course, they’re still sexy, but they don’t scream “sexual liberation inside!” like the lacy racy red ones do.

“…imperialism was fueled by nationalism …”

Between lectures, you skip lunch. After all, those sexy, tight, low-rise jeans won’t fit with a Freebirds burrito jammed between your zipper and your gut. Besides, the butterflies in your stomach make it impossible to eat. You sit through one more lecture, and finally, it comes to an end.

The way home is characterized by a silly smile and a stop by the drugstore to pick up a package of condoms because you’re kinda weary of that expired rubber he’s been carrying around for at least as long as you’ve known him. Besides, it has probably gone through the washer and dryer a few times before he’s had a chance to use it.

Finally you’re home and getting ready for the big date. “Getting ready” begins with the naked dance to the shower while Tori Amos wails on about God and masturbation through the stereo speakers. Sweet.

The shower knows, even before your date does, that you’ll be sleeping with him. The reason is simple. Before all your previous dates with the guy, your shower has been witness to a conservative relationship with the razor. Usually, the responsibility of the razor consists of a simple shaving of the armpits. As a matter of fact, not shaving your legs has served as a preventive measure to keep you from sleeping with this guy before you’ve actually been ready. But not today. On this lucky day, almost everything goes. All that’s left is a small landing strip, because after all, though your date’s tool may have a big head, it will definitely lack eyes. The feel of a nice, conditioned muff will guide the way.

Dripping wet, and with a new trim, you come out of the shower. For the next hour, hair and makeup reign supreme, requiring undivided attention. After about an hour, you’re looking hot, but you still don’t have any clothes on. Thank God you’ve figured out that you really want to wear the red thong; besides, they will look sexy peeking out of the innocent pair of jeans you sacrificed a burrito for.

Whatever happens after leaving the house is determined by some invisible force. However, the important principle remains… women know before a date whether we’re going to sleep with a guy. This is an interesting universal law about women. Guys would be even more surprised to know that the amount of time we hold out for is directly related to the purpose you will serve in our lives; it ranges from human vibrator to serious relationship. If we just want you for sex, then a week is more than enough to make your acquaintance. However, if we really like you, then we hold out long enough to gain your respect.

A piece of advice guys: when you do encounter that manicured muff, don’t assume we always walk around that way. More than likely, we just finished shaving it for this occasion. So it would probably not be a good idea to tell your friends that you think we’re sluts because we happen to shave our muffs. We would hate to stop sleeping with you just to prove you wrong.