The perils of late night TV and soft furniture

In UK we have a program called Naked Attraction. It is a trashy cattle-market type of programme, where people present themselves naked for the potential date and are chosen based on their physique.

It is entertaining, but because it has a lot of penises and vaginas, it is a late night program. We occasionally watch it mainly to see if the contestant has the nerve to reject not so perfect bodies or if they will wait till the end to not be seen as shallow, but except for the slight brain-bleaching entertainment value, there is nothing much to it.

Yesterday, together with Mark’s teenage daughter, we watched The Last of Us; she was sitting on the plush swivel chair while we were on the sofa and she somehow disappeared between the cushions. I thought she went to her bedroom after the program finished, and as the Naked Attraction started almost right after and none of us cared enough to change the channel, we let it run in the background, sharing very adult jokes about contestants’ bodies.

The little brat sat quietly, barely breathing, and in the dark room she was simply invisible till I said it out loud, pointing at the handsome man’s junk.

‘Look Mark , this one looks just like yours.’

The snorting laugh made us painfully aware that I just give a teenager visual description of her maker and if that was not creepy enough, she insisted on sitting with us and watch till the end.

As we are trying to teach her about body positivity, there was no way we could kick her out of the living room without sounding like she caught us watching something dirty. So the three of us sat there watching swinging dicks.

This family is a lost cause, I tell you.