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A Survey Suggests Grilled Cheese Lovers Have Lots of Sex, Meaning Everyone on Earth Is Having Lots of Sex

Please ask questions of yourself if you don't like grilled cheese sandwiches.

How can something be grilled if you fry it in a pan, is the real question. Photo via Albert Lynn

One of those surveys we all enjoy so much has found that people who enjoy grilled cheese sandwiches (a grilled cheese sandwich is a toastie made in a pan) have more sex than those who don't enjoy grilled cheese sandwiches. This survey was done in honor of "National Grilled Cheese Day," a day to celebrate grilled cheese, which we all will stop our lives to respectfully mark this Sunday, April 12. Sometimes, when you see something like this—when you think of the resources that have gone into declaring the day, for conducting the survey, for processing the data—sometimes you've got to step back and think: isn't life pointless?


But it isn't pointless for lovers of grilled cheese, because they also love having sex, with other humans, a lot. According to Skout, 73 percent of the 4,600 people they surveyed who said they enjoy grilled cheese sandwiches have sex at least once a month, compared to the 63 percent who don't. And they gets their fuckin' done, son: 32 percent of grilled cheese sandwich likers had sex at least six times a month, compared with just 27 percent of people who do not like grilled cheese, melted between some bread in a pan. Is it getting hot in here? Or is someone grilling some cheese up in this place? Can it be both?!

Sex is easy, though, isn't it? You press two sets of genitals together as hard as you can until their contrasting savory gels form a perfect airtight seal, then rock backwards and forwards until you both spray orgasms out of your vents. Occasionally you chuck some digits in there, if it's a birthday or a weekend. How can a grilled cheese sandwich—unless it is eaten delightedly by both parties half-way through—enhance that mad, rutting journey? It can't.

Such is the science of surveys. X is happening, and also Y is happening, and so grilled cheese likers are crazy excellent at doing fucks and do it on the regular (Z). OK, you like grilled cheese. You're good at fucks. The two aren't connected. You know when people say, "everything is connected"? Yeah: these things aren't connected. These people exist, you know them: they get all zen and sit cross-legged beneath trees and say stuff like "Yo, every atom and intent in the known universe is connected." They play hacky sack, competently. They think diabolo is good. These people are wrong. These people have never read a survey about grilled cheese and fucking. Because if they did, they'd know that their entire life philosophy is a lie.

Personally, I'm more worried about the straight-up fucking murderers who don't like grilled cheese, and the people who are having sex with 63 percent of them on a monthly basis. There is no earthly reason to not enjoy a grilled cheese sandwich. And that includes those with specific dietary requirements—after a series of incredibly tiresome conversations with my vegan cousin, I now know they are making real strides in dairy-free cheese ("They've almost figured out how to make it melt instead of sweat" is an actual sentence I have had to listen to at a party, multiple times). Gluten-free bread isn't even considered the dirt worst anymore. Who is still conspiring to not like grilled cheese?

Just imagine. Imagine these people, because you might be fucking one of them. "Ah, good sex," you say. "Some good, good sex. Shall I fry up some bread in a buttered pan and melt some cheese on it? Squash the whole thing into the shape of a sandwich with a spatula?" and the sweating, slowly unhorny person next to you goes: no thanks, I don't like joy on a plate, and suddenly you know that as you sleep tonight, cheese in your belly and jizz up your front, you know that your throat is going to be slit and your blood consumed by the crazed maniac you just handed off for 45 minutes. This person put a finger in your anus and now they're going to kill you. This is it, this is how you die. Happy Grilled Cheese Day. Happy fuckin'.

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