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Reality Bites: Secret Sex Lives

Hooray for body dysmorphic disorder!
Hooray for body dysmorphic disorder!

There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

TLC's Secret Sex Lives is little more than anthology series depicting the sort of thing Rick Santorum probably believes will become commonplace if gay marriage is legalized. In his mind, and the minds of those like him, legitimizing homosexual unions would open the floodgates to everything from allowing bronies to adopt human children to public autofellatio, only involving actual autos.

Honestly, I don't care to dissuade that line of thinking. Because the thought of Santorum and his ilk sweating bullets at the thought of furries roaming the streets with impunity is strangely comforting to me. It's just a pity the show kind of sucks.

Admittedly, I fast forwarded Nathaniel's story of his relationship with "Chase," his Chevy Lumina. This is mostly because he was featured on My Strange Addiction less than two years ago, and also because I can't decide if I don't buy that he is actually having sex with his car (multiple bumper kissing shots don't count) or if I just don't care. But if you're really curious as to the "ins and outs" of Nathaniel's "relationship," you can read all about it in a past Reality Bites. Warning: it more than exceeds your recommended daily allowance of porn 'stache.

Next up is Houston's own Sheyla Hershey. Sheyla has 32KKK breasts. They used to be MMM (insert "motorboating" joke here, or don't, if you're over the age of 12), until life threatening infections forced her to remove those implants.

Sheyla laments the fact she can't run, buy off the rack clothes (heh), tie her own shoes, or hug her daughter. Perhaps the fact the natural B-cup has been getting implants since she was 19 (she's 33 now) has something to do with it. She's described as a housewife, but there's no sign of her husband, much less any mention of what he does or why he appears unconcerned about his wife's obsession with her boobs.

Even worse, her plastic surgeon discusses Sheyla's mental disorder, yet still eventually agrees to go ahead with giving her the bigger implants, thus confirming the hypothesis that this guy is actually fairly representative of the cosmetic surgery industry.

Describing her breasts, Sheyla says, "They're the love of my life." Keep that up, and you won't have to worry about hugging your daughter for long.

 

Chris from Vermont has a balloon fetish. Specifically, the act of popping them can bring him to orgasm. He's also been single for a long time, because he's afraid a woman might be put off by this. Imagine that. Luckily, he's going to the Big Apple for a balloon fetish party. To prepare for this, he's loaded his suitcase full of balloons. It reminded me of Banky going out of town with a bag full of stroke mags.

His tale is highlighted by interviews with an expert (I forget her name, but she shows up twice) who talks about the "de-pathologizing" of fetishism, leading to it becoming acknowledged and more accepted. I, for one, welcome this process, because it means you all get to be made fun of like anyone else. First on the agenda: hanging gag wanted posters up at the local Party Barn.

But really, it's good Chris found some fellow balloonphiles(?) in NYC. People need kindred spirits, and I imagine the fetish community in Vermont is limited to maple syrup-themed WAM and erotic Ben & Jerry cosplay.

Finally, Michelle is a personal trainer, sports nutritionist, and wrestler who specializes in dominating submissive men. I'm always surprised at how many dudes want to be subjugated, but it's hard to tell if that's a fair representation or simply a sham propagated by the feminazi entertainment complex.

Michelle and her husband also have sex once or twice a day, for periods of up to over an hour, which sounds exhausting. Having a couple of kids would solve that problem straightaway.

Why getting paid to roll around on the floor with paying customers should be considered scandalous is a bit puzzling, frankly. We (well, most of us) don't care about a guy paying $20 to some woman to shake her ass in his face for the duration of "Pour Some Sugar on Me." And the majority of those interactions take place without the added hilarity of a gorilla mask.

I'm sorry to say the majority of the show appears to have been depicted on other TLC, Discover, or NatGeo shows in the past. I was fooled by the "original air date" listed, which was 03/01/2014, which apparently refers to this particular packaging. However, part of me is comforted by this repetition, since it might be an indication they're tiring of this type of show, meaning we may be spared a future episode featuring -- I don't know -- people in Transformers costumes engage in aggressive robo-frottage. Come to think of it, some network should just create a show called Rule 34 and be done with it?


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