“That’s God’s insta-passion promise,” he said, wiping his forehead as our jaws unclenched, along with our buttholes. “Wedding night, all your switches flip. Gentlemen, start your engines! But only if you’ve waited, okay? Otherwise, that marriage is ice-cold snoozeville!” Sinners pretended that sex takes practice, but men of God assured us: just get married, then get instinctual.
