Names have been changed to protect the naughty

A vicious stereotype has spread among females worldwide: the idea that all men want, all they ever want, is sex. That we will do anything it takes to get laid. Scale buildings, harm loved ones, etc. Though I can attest that this stereotype is true most of the time, there are those rare instances when sex is secondary – especially during Shark Week.

It was an early summer morning and I was not even out of bed when she texted me. The text was short, sweet and to the point.

“I want you.”

Danielle was not one to contact me prior to insobriety, so this was quite uncharacteristic.

“Little early for a booty call,” I responded.

Her reply came back almost instantly.

“Well I had a dream about you last night. Plus I just got a tongue ring.”

I have faced tough decisions in my life, but this was a true conundrum. My parents were out of town for the night, but I had planned on leisurely soaking in the spectacle that is Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, with a six-pack for company. After a full five minutes of consideration – an all-time high – I made my decision.

Danielle arrived promptly, and she showed no hesitation in her intentions. Within a few minutes she was on her knees in front of me, thoroughly proving what the buzz of tongue rings was all about.

In her rush to jump me, she had neglected to notice my big-screen television. It was pure bliss – Danielle in my lap and Shark Week in full view.

A school of fish darted out of the path of a great white shark and the show went to commercial break. At this exact moment Danielle decided the appetizer was finished and it was time for the main course. Within a few blinks she was buck naked in front of me.

It seemed like sex might present a challenge to my Shark Week-viewing pleasure, but I would not be deterred. Down on all fours, I faced her toward the TV and I channeled my inner Palin. Drill, baby, drill!

Once I got a rhythm down I turned my attention back to the great white that was now hunting unsuspecting seals.

Five minutes in, I started to experience some difficulties. Danielle, despite her tongue ring and all of her natural gifts, was losing the battle against the television.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning around. She saw me staring in the direction of the TV and scoffed. “Are you watching TV?,”

“Well, I mean, it’s Shark Week!” I explained.

Danielle, however, did not seem to understand the importance of this annual phenomenon. She gave me a simple choice: turn the TV off or send her on her way.

As I heard her car pull out of my driveway, I had no doubt in my mind that I had made the right choice.

I learned two lessons that day. First, multi-tasking during sex is never a good idea. Second, women may say that all guys focus on is sex, but for at least one week a year, there is an event that is better worth our time: Shark Week.