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Societally normalized romantic encounters often make zero sense. I mean do the people writing this shit REALLY think about the experience?

Sex on the beach? Sure, it's pretty, it sounds beautiful with the waves crashing in the background. If your timing is right you'll even have a spectacular sunset. But OH-MY-GODS sand EVERYWHERE. And in everything. EVERY thing. Every crevice, orifice, hole... sandpaper intercourse. Sounds like a great time, right?

Relations in the woods? Oh, I am sure that will be awesome. Gorgeous surroundings, huge trees, sunlight streaming through the trees, the sounds of the forest.. Wait... buzzzzzz What's that sound? OH MY GODS THE BUGS. Non-consensual black fly and mosquito ORGY. Bug bites in places there just should NOT be bugs bites. WHAT IS CRAWLING UP MY LEG???

Let's talk about this one: A roll in the hay. Hay lofts and barns, in general, do have an attractive allure about them. A secluded get away, the perfect hideout, privacy, smells great... But seriously, people, have you ever had a close, physical encounter with hay? There is NOTHING fun about it. I think the the movies I've seen where people are getting it on in hay lofts, the actors must have someone dedicated to pulling out each and every tiny splinter. Hay is itchy, stabby, and just no fun. Hell, it's not even all that soft, plus, it gets everywhere. Maybe, if you had a REALLY thick quilt or something a roll in the hay would be ok, but it would have to be REALLY thick. Which kind of takes the assumed spontaneity out of the experience.