via Leslie Cohen / Canva
Editor’s Note: Welcome back to our BroBible relationship column from romance author Leslie Cohen. Read last week’s column here:
- The Valentine’s Day Hot Tub Fantasy I Barely Survived
- Dating Red Flags: Go Ahead. Date the Bad Boy. But Don’t Come Crying to Me.
Presented in partnership with LoveHoney, for all your intimate bedroom needs. Use code “AFF-BROBIBLE20” at checkout for 20% off your order!
10,000 condoms missing. 2 days. Who took them? I’ll tell you.
It wasn’t the biathlon guys. They’re busy making teary-eyed confessions. Not shocking. Nothing says “emotionally stable” like skiing at high speed and then casually stopping to fire a rifle.
I have no doubt that the snowboarders are getting laid, but this is not the time for them to do it in excess. They simply don’t have the urgency. Snowboarders can always get laid, at any time, in any ski town in the world. They merely have to roll up, and they’re halfway there. They don’t need to be hoarding condoms right now.
It wasn’t the figure skaters. They are stressed, man. The singles have a microscopic margin for error. On top of landing insane jumps, they’re being judged for artistry, interpretation, vibes. The pairs always appear to have taken the ice just after a vicious marital spat. The only thing those guys are getting on a regular basis is make-up sex.
Bobsled, luge, skeleton, speed skating, anything with a spandex outfit— they’re not getting in and out of that thing fast enough to achieve this level of fornication.
From our sponsors: Lovehoney
Lovehoney
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to take your intimate needs in the bedroom to the next level. Trust the experts at Lovehoney. Use our exclusive code AFF-BROBIBLE20 to take 20% off their entire collection of adult toys and lingerie—delivered in discreet packaging so your nosy neighbors are none the wiser.
TAP HERE TO SPICE THINGS UP WITH LOVEHONEY
Who’s left? The big air skiers. If you’re not familiar with big air skiing, here is my synopsis based on roughly one hour of watching it:
They take off at 60-70 MPH, well into the air, do multiple spins, and then land backwards. Pay attention to their names. You’ve got all-American Troy “TPod” Podmilsak. They compare his skis to a knife buttering a piece of toast. You’ve got a Norwegian stud named Tormod Frostad, known for his triple cork 1800, his spin off bread into a bio rotation. Then there’s American Mac Forehand, who is often compared to an Italian sportscar. He, apparently, has a very buttered takeoff. Then an adorable Austrian named Matej Svancer “adds his own butter to the mix” and does something called a carving triple cork 1980. When they land a jump, it’s not called a landing. It’s called a stomper.
Per jump, they go upside down three times, spin around six, then land either a triple cork 4160 no-hands down spin off bread into a bio rotation, or a buttered take-off casual switch tale butter double bio 1620. What? I assure you I don’t know. The entire ranking system seems to be based on whose toast is more buttered.
Here’s why they’re the most likely culprit:
The big air boys are adept at defying the laws of gravity and sanity. Their jumps are labeled “spicy” or “steezy.” They “send it,” “pop off,” “pop the cork,” “send a banger.” Are we not talking about sex? Are you sure?
They’re young. They’re single. Who is holding down a girlfriend with this profession? A girlfriend might say: Maybe don’t jump three times and spin six times into the air and then land backwards on what appears to be a very slippery slope? Let’s skip it.
They’re all pretty good-looking, which is why each of their family members is holding up a cardboard cutout of their chiseled faces. What do they do with these cutouts once the jumps have landed? I’ll tell you what. Carry them around the Olympic Village. That is free advertising, right there. Those jawlines have nothing to lose and nowhere to hide.
And let’s face it— this is their time to shine in front of a massive audience. You’re telling me these guys are not seizing the moment? Mac Forehand is seizing the moment.
My point is— they’re young, hot, and crazy. A diabolical combination. I like them, but they’re not normal. I don’t imagine they eat two eggs for breakfast or put their snowpants on one leg at a time. No way. Would they think 1,000 condoms each is a normal number of condoms for two weeks? I certainly think so. If anyone sees them at breakfast having forty-five eggs, please let me know. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. And check their toast. I bet it’s buttered.