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Why Kitchen Sex Should Come with a Warning Label
Let’s Talk About Bad Ideas Disguised as Sexy Ones
We’ve all had moments when logic takes a backseat, and raw passion grabs the steering wheel. You know — those impulsive, heat-of-the-moment decisions that feel like the best idea in the world until they aren’t.
For some, it’s a drunken tattoo. For others, it’s sending a risky text to an ex.
For me? It was choosing to get freaky in the kitchen.
And if that sounds like a fun, spontaneous, movie-worthy experience, let me stop you right there — because it ended with me screaming, hopping around like an injured kangaroo, and questioning every life choice that led me to that moment.
Why? Because in the middle of all that passion, my bare ass made contact with a very hot stove.
And if you think that sounds painful, congratulations — you officially have more common sense than I did that night.
But let’s rewind, because this disaster didn’t happen overnight. No, it was a slow burn (literally), fueled by bad judgment, bad luck, and a very, very unfortunate seating choice.
