I Will Never Use Sex to Avoid a Good Headache — would you?

Avoiding sex girl

Let’s be honest: we live in a world that’s obsessed with avoiding discomfort. Got a headache? Pop a pill. Feeling stressed? Meditate. But me? I’m a connoisseur of life’s finer miseries. And nothing says “I’m alive” quite like a splitting, soul-crushing headache. Sex may be many things—pleasurable, connecting, occasionally athletic—but a headache? Oh, that’s an experience.

I’m not here to downplay sex. It has its moments. But let’s not pretend it can compete with the exquisite torment of a good, old-fashioned head-pounder. The kind that makes you question your existence and consider Googling symptoms. You can’t just walk away from that kind of commitment for a cheap thrill.

Headaches: The True Test of Character

Sex is, well, nice. It’s warm, fuzzy, full of dopamine, and sweaty satisfaction. But a headache? That’s a mental marathon. It’s a challenge, a chance to prove your resilience, to rise above the pain and whisper to yourself, “Not today, Satan.”

Think about it: when was the last time sex made you reevaluate your life choices? Headaches do that effortlessly. They sneak up on you during a Zoom call or mid-grocery shopping, making you reconsider everything from your hydration habits to your life goals. And isn’t that what we’re all really after? A bit of soul-searching misery?

Why Settle for Fun When You Can Have… This?

Sex offers pleasure, sure. It’s like a fluffy, well-crafted rom-com—predictable but satisfying. Headaches, though? That’s high drama. They come in unannounced, take over your life, and leave you lying in a dark room bargaining with a higher power. That’s real commitment.

And don’t get me started on the ambiance. Sex might thrive in candlelight and soft music, but headaches? They demand total darkness and absolute silence. There’s something poetic about surrendering to the void with a damp cloth on your forehead, whispering, “Make it stop,” to the universe.

The Real Pros and Cons

Let’s face it: sex might leave you feeling satisfied, but will it give you a deep appreciation for existence itself? No. A headache, however, forces you to slow down, reflect, and truly feel each pulsating throb.

While sex gives you an endorphin boost, headaches deliver something more profound: a boost in self-pity. Sex is about connection, but headaches? They’re a solo journey, a spiritual quest through pain. You emerge from the experience stronger, more resilient, and possibly slightly dehydrated. But hey, growth is growth.

The Absurd Elegance of Suffering

There’s a certain poetry to enduring a headache. It’s not just pain; it’s performance art. Imagine yourself draped across the couch like a tragic figure in a Renaissance painting, one hand delicately placed on your forehead, the other clutching a water bottle like it’s the Holy Grail. Your breathing? Labored, but artful. Your groans? Just loud enough to convey suffering without tipping into full-on melodrama. You are both the tortured artist and the masterpiece itself.

And let’s talk about the rituals. Turning off the lights becomes a sacred act. You dim the room, draw the curtains, and create a space that feels like a personal sanctuary of misery. The ice pack isn’t just a cooling device — it’s a symbol of your resilience, your dedication to feeling every ounce of discomfort with style. You hold it against your head like a knight wields a sword, ready to battle through the throbbing pain.

Even your internal dialogue changes. Every thought feels heavier, more profound. You’re not just thinking, What should I have for dinner?—you're contemplating the universe and your tiny, throbbing place within it. Suddenly, you’re a philosopher, pondering why pain exists at all. Nietzsche would be proud.

Your movements are slow, deliberate. The simple act of standing up becomes a heroic journey. Will you make it to the kitchen without collapsing in dramatic fashion? Who knows! But that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it? Every step is a gamble, a moment of suspense in this epic saga of self-inflicted suffering.

Even your partner gets drawn into the spectacle. They tiptoe around you like a respectful audience member, unsure whether to offer assistance or simply admire your commitment to the role of “Person Enduring the World’s Most Tragic Headache.” And you? You let them wonder. This is your solo act, after all.

Ultimately, enduring a headache is about finding beauty in the absurd. It’s embracing the chaos, the discomfort, and yes, the chance to milk every moment of it for all it’s worth. Because if you’re going to suffer, you might as well do it with flair.

A Love Letter to Pain (Sort Of)

So, no, I will never use sex to avoid a good headache. That would be a betrayal of everything headaches stand for: resilience, existential dread, and the occasional overdramatic sigh. Life is short, and some pains are too profound to miss.

Next time you feel that familiar ache creeping in, lean into it. Light a candle, not for romance but for the aesthetic of your suffering. Embrace the darkness. Whisper sweet nothings to your ice pack. And remember: sex is fleeting, but a headache? A headache is forever… or at least until the ibuprofen kicks in.