Why I Stopped Engaging in Aftercare and Started Dumping Gatorade on Him After Sex

Aftercare can be a great way to check in and reconnect with your partner after sex. However, for me, it just wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something more reflective of how I felt after being intimate with my boyfriend, and better show him that he’s loved, appreciated, and great at eating me out. That’s why I stopped cuddling him after sex, and instead started dousing him with 10 gallons of Gatorade like we just won the Super Bowl.


Initially, words of affirmation were enough for me to connect with my boyfriend after sex. But I soon found that they were lacking. I had to do something bigger – more World Series-esque. I found that the way I felt after an orgasm was comparable only to a small town, rough-and-tumble football team stunning the world by winning states thanks to a new-in-town coach with unorthodox methods and a heart of gold. In both these cases, the only way to accurately express the joy and gratitude felt is to pop up jump scare style with a cooler filled to the brim with Fierce Grape and make a big, sloppy mess of it.


It took my boyfriend some time to adjust to this abrupt change in our sex life. We had to engage in a lot of difficult discourse before he eventually understood that this was the only method that really expressed how much he meant to me. The first time I tried dumping Gatorade on him, he was like, “What the fuck?” and I was like, “You like sports,” and he was like, “This isn’t sports,” and I was like, “You’ve done so much for this team and this town.” It’s this type of back-and-forth communication that, while healthy, could be more succinctly expressed with a cooler of Cool Blue to the dome.



Since that first time, this ritual – previously used almost exclusively by NFL benchwarmers after watching their team clinch a championship – has become a regular post-cum occurrence for my boyfriend and I. The benefits were immediate and numerous – we were cooler and more hydrated after sex, my boyfriend gained the raw pride of a coach who brought a rag tag team back from the brink of failure, and our bedroom always smelled slightly like Glacier Cherry.


While the aftercare clean-up has been a nightmare, and our Gatorade budget has skyrocketed to unsustainable levels, I wouldn’t change a thing. Since decentralizing aftercare from our sex life, and recentralizing an almost constantly soggy bed, I’ve felt liberated in my self-expression, closer to my boyfriend in a specifically coach/star player way, and imbued with a renewed understanding of “sportsmanship.”