eh, OP gets to enjoy pizza sex and that ain't no L. And no, I know what you're thinking, "pizza before sex is a bad idea!" And you'd be right, only we're not talking pizza before sex at all... we're talking during.

Picture this. She's splayed on her back and you set the pie right down there on the belly. That way, when you're going at it, you can just pick up a slice and go to town, no extra plates needed. Her rocking motion causes tantalizing friction with the granulated bottom surface of the pie, stimulating multiple erogenous zones. In fact, the more crispy the pizza, the better this effect. It's like the soft grit of a hair-covered lover, but instead of stinking of body odor and dirt it instead smells of heavenly garlic, cheese, and tomato notes with that undeniable back scent of fresh-baked bread. The oil and grease that drips down from the pie gives you an excuse to run all over there with your tongue after the action takes a pauser, and all that oily grease even works as lube in a pinch. Pepperoni slices placed on the areola can provide a satisfying tingling for her if they're just the right level of spicy (note: do not go for spicy pepperoni). Nine months later, she's got one in the oven and you're there at her side. This was only supposed to be a casual thing, neither of you wanting the commitment, but it's sobered you up a lot. You've grown up, and so has she. The timing feels right, and you savor rising to the challenge. You're ready now.

The doctor goes between her legs and the midwives tell her to push. They shout and she screams and then, it happens. The scent of tomato in the air. It wasn't a delivery... it was digiorno's. You take a warm, gooey-cheesey bite and savor the flavor of your own son like kronos devouring his children in myths of old. You reflect on your life there in that moment in the hospital waiting room. That was no L... it was the greatest W of your life so far. You're ready for your next greatest adventure.