Listen up, Girl Guides, because this one is especially false: Zombies only care about your satisfaction. As dead creatures with reanimated life, they have no pleasure centers in the prefrontal cortex (or any cortex). They don’t eat brains because they enjoy the taste; they eat brains because they’re compelled to. It’s a thoughtless compulsion. The same with sex. Zombies aren’t in it for the orgasm. They don’t know what an A, B or C is, let alone the Big O. For them, sex is simply another drive. They do it because nature compels them to. At no point will a zombie roll off you and say, “Thanks, honey, I’m good.” You’re the one who’s going to have to do the rolling off (and much of the rocking!). Trust me, that makes all the difference.
And while you’re cuddling with your sweetie in languid postcoital repose, don’t forget to ménage-à-trois with Love in the Time of Zombies, a dating adventure from my cub reporter, pre-zombie-sex days before I became the undead-dating experts you know and love.
Available from Shebooks ($2.99).
Listen up, folks! The rumors about this one are rampant, despite a multimillion-dollar National Association for the Advancement of Zombie People public-awareness campaign, so I will be absolutely clear: Sex with a zombie will not result in a half-human, half-zombie baby.
Hold on. Let me repeat that for the women in the last row: SEX WITH A ZOMBIE WILL NOT RESULT IN A HALF-HUMAN, HALF-ZOMBIE BABY.
Sorry to get all crazy-loud-neighbor shouty on you, but this misconception is particularly persistent. But it’s patently not true. For one thing, it’s physically impossible for any creature to reproduce without the necessary biological matter of sperm. Zombie’s don’t have sperm. Their testicles do not function, which means they cannot produce little swimmers. Secondly, even if a zombie could produce viable sperm (which it can’t!), a human-zombie hybrid would be no more feasible than a goat-lion or dog-elephant hybrid. In order for a hybrid to survive, the animals must have similar genetic makeups.
The only way for a human female to reproduce is to have sex with a human male during her fertile period (good luck finding one at all, let alone at a vital moment!) or for her to be implanted with her own fertilized egg* at one of the 146 government-run sperm banks across the country.
That’s it. There are no other options for human reproduction.
Got it? Good. Because I don’t want to have to repeat myself again.
*Women wishing to reproduce must meet certain monetary and intellectual standards. See ProvisionalGovermentAuthorityReproductiveRules.gov for more info.
OK, so you’ve gotten over the ewww and you’ve overcome the stink, but, you say, there’s still the squidge. Zombies are squidgy. They have gooshy, dampish and unpleasantly yielding skin.
You don’t want to feel that pressed up against you.
Squidginess might have been an issue with previous generations of zombies (although a recent article in The Daily Scoopage posits that this so-called pliancy problem was part of a global smear campaign orchestrated by vampire lovers), but it’s absolutely not a factor for the current crop. Modern medicine ensures that the well-cared-for zombie has the epidermis of a healthy forty-five-year-old. Apply regular firming treatments and your boyzomb will permanently retain the semisoft suppleness of early middle age forever. Banish thoughts of soggy bacon forever!