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Things have changed now. We can talk about Druid penises with friends, work buddies and the store clerks at Rite Aid. But as a society, we also assume that if someone isn't interested in another person's sexual exploits, they must be an oppressed prude who's probably currently saving up for some pearls to clutch.

This is understandable, but it's also dumb. There are a lot of valid reasons for not wanting to hear about another person's sex life. It could be that the person talking is a close friend, and you think of her as a sibling. It could be that you're secretly burning with lust for that person and need to quell the flame that their words have ignited in your loins. It could be that there is a literal flame in your loins, and you urgently need to run away and put it out.

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"Just let me finish this story about how Fifty Shades of Grey improved my relationship with your father."

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But because of this society-wide, anti-sex hangover, if you don't want to hear about the adventure your buddy had last night involving nipple clamps and a rubber horse mask, then you, at the very least, appear sex-negative. At most, you're perceived as attempting to oppress him. It's like we're still developing the boundary between "I don't approve of your wicked, sinful sex acts" and "your sex acts are not something I particularly want to hear about right now." So we end up with situations where one person is telling her office acquaintances over coffee about how she and her partner have decided to try more butt stuff, despite all the problems they've been having with butt stuff lately, and all of her companions have to sit there and nod like they're desperate for her to go on.