You guys, FoxNews.com abstinence columnist Steven Crowder recently got married, which means he finally got to stick his eager wee-wee into a nice lady‘s va-jay-jay. From this experience, he has drawn some conclusions, namely that the sex he had on his wedding night was way better than the sex anyone has ever had over the course of human history because WHOA HOLY CRAP THAT FEELS SOOOOOOO GOOD IT’S ALMOST LIKE MY PENIS IS INSIDE A VAT OF HOT BUTTER AND OMG IM GONNA JIZZ BABY UUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.
After having tied the knot at the end of August, I can now say beyond all shadow of a doubt, that it was everything I’d hoped and prayed that it would be since childhood. (I’d also prayed to be bitten by a radioactive spider and develop sticky hands, but… I was an idiot.)
Let me preface this column by saying this: my wife (I have to get used to saying that) and I not only waited sexually in every way (no, we didn’t pull the Bill Clinton and technically avoid “sex” sex,) but we didn’t shack up as live-ins and most importantly, we courted each other in a way that was consistent with our publicly professed values.
We did it right.
Our wedding was perfect. Our wedding night was nothing short of amazing. I write this on a plane heading into a tropical paradise with the most beautiful woman to have walked the planet earth.
Feeling judged? I couldn’t care less.
Alright, you got that? Jesus and the government finally gave our boy Crowder the green light to bang and it was the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life and much better than anything you’ve ever experienced in yours, something he is sure of based solely on his own deflowering experience, mind you. In other words: YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG! So there you go.
But Crowder doesn’t stop there. Homeboy is so over the moon over finally getting some booty that he wants all you people who bone without a piece of paper issued by the state to know that you are basically worthless pieces of trash.
When people do marriage right, they don’t complain so much, and so their voices are silenced by the rabble of promiscuous charlatans, peddling their pathetic world view as “progressive.”
You got that? If you so much as finger-banged your wife before marriage you basically soiled her honey pot AND your relationship FOREVER, because God makes that sh*t extra special when you just let it sit and age, like wine or something.
Our wedding was perfect. Our wedding night was nothing short of amazing. I write this on a plane heading into a tropical paradise with the most beautiful woman to have walked the planet earth. I know everybody says that their bride was the “most beautiful in the world.” They’re wrong. I win.
Oh man — they say that p*ssy can make a man crazy but this is ridiculous. Judgey McJudgerson even had the nerve to pass judgment on a fellow groom for obviously not dicking his bride right — based solely on the fact that he was too hungover to join her for breakfast the morning after the big night. (Frankly, I do my best sexing when I’m sh*t-faced!)
As my wife (again, still not used to that) and I ate breakfast at a local inn, we discussed how excited we were to start the rest of our lives together, how scary it was that everything was now so different. At the same time, we overheard the table next to us discussing their very own wedding from the night prior. What a coincidence!
“The thing is, nothing’s really changed,” the bride said.
Puzzled, my wife asked, “Did you get married last night too? So did we!”
“Congratulations!” the other dame said. “Yeah we did, just last night.”
“Where’s the groom?” my wife innocently… scratch that, naively asked.
“Oh, he’s sleeping. There was no way he was coming out with me this morning!” She paused and smirked. “Let’s just say that he’s got a lingering headache from a really good time last night.”
My heart sank. Firstly, that poor schmuck’s “good time” was simply getting snookered. Not enjoying the company of close family and long-lost friends with a clear head and clean conscience, not staring in awe at his beautiful new wife, wanting to soak in every glimmer of her eyes as she shot him heart-racing looks from across the dance floor, not taking all of the cheesy pictures as they cut the cake, not even carrying her across that suite threshold as they nervously anticipated their “nightcap.” He probably won’t remember any of it. Instead, he got smashed. He was “that guy”… at his own freaking wedding.
Oh man it’s going to be so great when Steven Crowder (allow him to introduce himself in the video embedded below) comes home early from a Promise Keepers rally to find his wife reverse-cowgirling the youth minister from their church on the kitchen table. In the meantime, I’ll continue having drunken, hot, fun sex outside of marriage with my lady friend, thank you very much, Twatwaffle.