“Are redheads better in bed?”

That is just one of the many redheaded themed questions people ask to find me on Google. I’ve never addressed the question before but since so many people are wondering I will answer it for you.

Yes. We rock in bed. Never, ever, underestimate the power of novelty.

Blonds are usually not really blonds so are a bit shy about revealing that fact. Most likely the lights have to be out. Brunettes are more likely to have the lights on but will probably hide under the covers so all that dark arm hair doesn’t show. They probably are less likely to kiss much since they have a little stubble or burn on their top lips. Redheads are usually, finally, proud of their hair color and want to show it to whomever wants to see it. After spending a childhood getting teased they not only have a sense of humor but of humility as well. They are less likely to point out your shortcomings.

I’ve actually never slept with a redhead. Most guys I know who have red hair remind me of Opie Taylor/Ritchie Cunningham or Carrot Top, neither of whom are that appealing to me but I can’t speak for everyone. I suspect they are probably better in bed than most guys because they have to overcome the hair and keep ’em coming back. In order to do that a guy has to learn a few skills that some guys don’t think are necessary. I have heard that redheaded guys are hung like horses however. God’s little gift for making them look like Howdy Doody I guess.

Another question posed to the Google is:

“Why are redheads so fucking crazy?”

That’s an excellent question and one I feel I can answer for all of us. Early on redheaded children get picked out for any transgressions. If a handful of kids play ding-dong-ditch and are running down the block when the homeowner answers the door in his bathrobe, the only kid he is going to be able to identify is the redhead. Kids all look the same when they are little so it is the redhead who gets the call to his or her parents from the old man who yells at kids to get off the grass. After a while the kid either grows into his or her reputation of being a trouble maker or stays inside when all the fun is happening.

Getting teased throughout middle school doesn’t help maintain one’s sanity either. Try going through the hardest years of your life being called carrot top and when a few years older fire crotch. It isn’t fun.

Imagine having strangers come up to you, where ever you go, and ask if that is your real hair color. It gets really old after a while. For years I would point out that my eyebrows are red and that I had no roots that were a different color. That usually shut them up but it was annoying still. One night, when I was out with friends at a bar, I had enough beer in me to answer the question in a way that indeed made people ask if I was crazy, I unzipped my pants and showed the blond who didn’t believe that red was indeed my real hair color. She wasn’t asking in a nice way if my hair color was my own. She asked in a snarky way, loudly, to her very attractive boyfriend. She stomped off and he gave me his phone number. It was well worth the hangover I had the next day.

Redheads are also smarter but I have yet to have a query for that.

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