I recently came across the nifty schematic, above, in praise of the sandwich, and specifically in praise of its food-engineering qualities. It’s from a website named Doghousediaries.com, which clearly has its heart in absolutely the right place.
However, being burdened with the mind that I have, and believing that food appetites and sexual appetites are often very similar, I began to wonder whether this “engineering” might apply to sex as well as to the sandwich. So let’s take it one proposition at a time.
Limitlessness: ingredients limited only by your imagination, contents of your fridge.
Well yes, sex is indeed limited only by your imagination, and the contents of the fridge may become involved – hey, I’ve seen 9½ Weeks, but there are many other possibilities too, things that may come from the pantry, the garden, the sex shop, as well as the fridge.
Beauty: utilizes open-air plan exposing rainbow of ingredients.
Yes, sure, beauty (in some form) is usually involved in sex. The open air may be involved too. I’m not sure about “rainbow ingredients” – is this a reference to food dye? Body Painting? Interracial love? Maybe the rainbow is only metaphorical – in which case I suppose it does apply equally to both sex and sandwiches.
Compartmentalization: has a number of distinct surfaces to place sauces and keep them separate.
Well indeed yes, the human body certainly has distinct surfaces – and it has folds and cervices and indeed orifices too. “Sauces” (either a metaphor or a euphemism) can be kept separate, though in many cases it’s fun to mix them all together.
Options: infinite starting angles.
Variety: can be made in countless configurations, shapes, and sizes.
Isn’t this really the same as “options”? But in any case, once again, Hell yes.
Usability: designed for comfortable one-handed operation.
Well OK, but only up to a point. Certain sexual practices can be done comfortably with just one hand, but really good sex demands a bit more commitment and physical involvement than that. Generally it’s best to use both hands, and the mouth, in fact pretty much everything you’ve got.
Expandability: addition bread layers increase capacity and add structural support.
We’re imaging some kind of orgy, some kind of clustering free for all here, yes? More is often merrier (within reason obviously, and depending on who constitutes the “more”) and this may add structural support, but if the capacity increases too much you’re all quite likely to end up in a heap on the floor. That is probably more fun in the case of sex than in the case of the sandwich.
Consistency: every bite contains every ingredient (if properly made).
You know I’m not even sure this really applies even to the sandwich. Certain sandwiches (and I wouldn’t say they were improperly made) enable you to nibble on a bit of that, then on a bit of this, every bite may contain a new taste, a new texture, a new sensation; which certainly sounds sexy to me.
Versatility: almost exactly the same eating experience whether upside down or right-side up. Take that pizza.
Well versatility is good, obviously. But is there really a “right way up” when it comes to sex? Sometimes it’s good to be on top, sometimes it’s good to be underneath, sometimes it’s good to be sandwiched in the middle. All these experiences may be equally good, but I wouldn’t say they’re exactly the same, nor would we want them to be.
Magic: gets even more delicious when cut in half.
No, sorry, I can’t see this. I don’t want to come across as a prude or a square but I honestly can’t imagine any sexual experience that’s better when anything whatsoever gets cut in half. Others no doubt feel differently, but they are clearly perverts.
Of course sex is not only like a sandwich. It’s also in certain respects like (and in certain other respects not like) a stew, a smorgasbord, a curry, a box of chocolates, a Christmas pudding. I’ll let you work out these resemblances for yourself.