The Ex Sext

Hello there sexers. So I’m aware it’s been quite a while since I imparted some valuable knowledge on love and relationships, but sometimes life happens. Other times, vacation happens. Sangria happens. Inebriation happens. I don’t think I need to elaborate, do I?

So it was when I was drinking Peach Sangria with a friend of mine over the nation’s most illustrious holiday that the subject of ex-sexting came up. Now I’ve been very vocal about my feelings towards sexting in the past. I think it’s the best way to get a few rocks off without risking an STD. If my phone somehow contracts the Hiv, I might rethink my position, but until then, I say send a racy message… just make sure your face and your gens are sent separately. No use getting Wienered for your… wiener.

But with an ex, the trickiness quotient increases exponentially. The real question is, are you even allowed to reach out to your ex? How long does someone have to wait before it’s appropriate to contact an ex… point, blank, period? My friends and I like to follow the rule of half. Bide your time for half the length of the relationship, with four months being the cutoff. In short, two months, max.

Texting an ex in any capacity is tricky. It opens up a door to feelings that should very well be closed shut and locked with a key. It messes up boundaries. Throw a racy text into the mix, and well you’re setting yourself up for eminent failure. It should be one’s goal to move on in a decisive manner; that means drop the cell phone in the toilet like the rest of us when you’re drunk and don’t sext your ex.

But it’s done, Mark. It’s already done, you say. Now what? This blog is all about the ‘what now’ when a problem occurs. What’s the proper sexit strategy? Plead sheer and utter black out. Sure, being wasted isn’t an excuse for say… driving or getting in a fight with a police horse or making out with your second cousin or giving a one-kneed blowy on a dancefloor. But it is a solid excuse for accidently sexting someone. Say the liquor took over, send an apology text in the morning, and forget it ever happened. If they respond kindly, well… you don’t really need a sexit, then do you? Until Monday sexers. The good life is at your fingertips.