Here’s what sucks: I will order a fantastic meal from the best restaurant for delivery. And in the 40 minutes till it comes I’ll be dreaming of how tender the steak will be, how garlicky and buttery the mashed potatoes will be. How decadent the red velvet cake will be. I’ll go to my fridge and nibble on a leftover Kit Kat. I’ll heat up a hot pocket. I’ll dive into my bag of blue cheese potato chips. Then the Milanos start looking good. And Mac & cheese. By the time the gourmet meal shows up that gave me the appetite to begin with I’ll feel like shit because I chose to satisfy myself with processed and prepackaged junk just because it was within reach.
And THAT is why porn fucks up relationships.