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Here's What Your Favorite Font Says About Your Sex Life

Typeface of choice may tell you more than you'd think about how someone gets down.

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You can save a lot of time and energy by learning how to gauge the kind of sex you can expect to have with someone before you bother to actually find out firsthand.

One obvious method is observing body language, but you can also learn a lot through the interpretation of subtler signals. Like, say, their favorite font!

So, next time you're evaluating a potential someone, just ~oh so casually~ drop the question and consult this handy interpretation guide to their answer before you agree to get busy.

Really does have good intentions and tries hard; carefully crafts various sex-associated Spotify playlists, but always forgets private listening mode exists.

Moderately ambitious, mostly interested in how easily they can incorporate metal or dark arts.

Knows their way around a menagerie of toys and keeps a case of the things handy; also employs aromatherapy, which, sure.

Utilitarian, usually done in about five minutes flat, but all concerned parties are satisfied; notorious also for never washing sheets between partners.

Seaside, if possible; casually has Boondock Saints blaring from a big-screen TV in the background.

Alice Mongkongllite / BuzzFeed Life

The embarrassing booty call that actually gets shit done (shit = orgasms); doesn't appear to feel ashamed of days-of-the-week undergarments.

Leaves scratches.

Surprise firecracker; a huge fan of BDSM but like BEFORE 50 SHADES, OK??! Usually requires a day of recovery between encounters.

Gentle, smatters weak attempts at dirty talk with sincere apologies; incorporates pillows in effective ways.

Likes it public, enthusiastic, and often.

Has thoughtfully curated a collection of stunning lingerie; still working on graceful transitions between positions.

Missionary with a lot of eye contact that yields no orgasms, for anyone; suggests brunch in the morning.

Emphatic noises, sometimes so zealous they're hard to decode.

Classic moves executed like a champ; mysteriously never seems to sweat.

Read somewhere that kitchen floors = passion and insists on dropping to the ground in any session over 10 minutes; doesn't seem to understand passerby can see through windows with undrawn curtains.

Bored enough with life in general to be open to almost all suggestions; 100 percent unaware of dynamite head skills.

Sting-level, weekend-long situation; perhaps some wooden flutes involved in mysterious ways.

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