I want to elevate my solo sessions. Condiments are a good idea because they feel cheap, at least compared to the $30 bottle of lube that smells like a mix of your dad’s expired sunscreen and overripe plums. Or the $20 bottle of unscented lube that makes it hard to maintain a pleasant experience sometimes.

Anyway the question is: honey or Sriracha. No room or time for justifying “why not a vibrator” or “what about fish sauce” or “get a boyfriend” (that’s also sexist).

They are in fact very similar. Both create sticky situations and get me excited (usually associated with food). They are natural and great for the respiratory system–honey soothes, hot sauce clears out congestion. I also like their colours. Eating honey reminds me of eating the sun baby in Teletubbies–I’ve always had a fascination with the idea of tasting the innocence of infancy; maybe that will allow me to reconnect with my non-existent childhood. But eating babies, at least human babies, doesn’t seem legal at least before Peter Dutton is elected. So I’ll wait and have honey for now. Eating the deep red Sriracha brings the joy of destroying the the robust spirit of Trump’s deep red states. I’m not always political, it’s just hard not to be when I am engaging with this important philosophical debate that has stumped humanity.

The only difference between honey and Sriracha that matters, at least to me, is this. At my local grocer today, Sriracha is a bit cheaper.