Why I'd rather do the dishes than have sex.

The pots and pans don't glare at my flabby hands.

The spoons don’t tell me how hard to scrub.

Coffee mugs don’t beg me to whisper what I’m going to do to them.

Plates don’t mind if I turn on the TV during the dull parts.

Corningware doesn’t howl like a monkey while I’m rinsing it.

The cups and saucers don’t demand to be washed again two hours later.

Bowls don’t need me to tell them how dirty they are.

Tupperware doesn’t smoke after it's clean.

At least I know where my forks has been.

After I do the dishes only my fingers turn pruny.