Nerve is my all-time favorite sex publication. It's intelligent, fun, witty, and doesn't treat fucking like it's some stupid sacred cow. So I was psyched when James invited me to contribute to their "Sex Advice From ____" column, in this case Sex Advice From Video-Game Designers.
Here's how it came out, which is all well and good, but I guess Nerve wasn't ultra psyched by my Vice-inspired caustic humor nor 200-words-per-answer non-brevity. Unedited, wicked more awesome version follows.
> How can playing video games help me in sex?
Back in the 8-bit days, we used this term "Nintendo Thumb," which meant one of two things, depending on the context: One, when you played video games all day until the hours and hours spent manipulating the rough edge of the D-pad gave you that unique blister that hurt so badly you could barely hold the controller anymore, but you soldiered on anyway. Two, the freakish teenage boy ability to stimulate the A/B buttons so rapidly one's thumb only appeared as a vibrating blur, a Schrödinger's cat possibility field type thing, which was a crucial skill to have when robots knocked your ninja turtle down or whatever and you had to get back up as quickly as possible, or when you wanted Doc to rub Little Mac's back harder for more health points but everyone knows that one was just a rumor. Anyway, if clits were D-pads and A/B buttons, my entire generation would all be rock star gods in bed, drifting in the ether with lush hair and no pupils and perfectly chiseled bodies, basically, at least as far as manual foreplay goes.
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