There are plenty of these tropes—and not just in American detective stories and action movies. Productions sometimes display staggering idiocy too—but I’ve picked out five that simply make me laugh.

1. The hero is a loser who’s been fired or demoted. His wife has left him. He’s drinking himself to death. He’s a psychopath. A total piece of work. Yet, we’re shown this pathetic specimen suddenly pulling off twenty-six heroic feats in a row, taking out every single villain. It seems the screenwriters are drinking themselves to death, too.

2. The hero invariably keeps a stash of newspaper clippings in a special drawer. Close-ups of the headlines: «Horrific Murder in the Bronx,» «Mysterious Disappearance,» «God Knows What Happened, But Let’s Make the Audience Worry.» He holds onto these clippings and hauls them around his whole life; he has absolutely no other treasures.

3. The hero learns the most important information from the TV. He walks into a bar to down a whiskey with his last few bucks, and behold!—the TV announces the very news the plot hinges on. The news anchor might as well be looking right at the hero and saying, «Oh, you made it? Here’s a news item just for you!» All the other characters—the bad guys included—find everything out from the TV too, like the fact that they’re wanted by the police and need to get out of town. It’s nothing but television.

4. The hero suddenly discovers he has a long-lost child or an elderly father—someone he hasn’t spoken to in years. The dad is handy for the finale, of course: the hero gives him a hug and realizes the value of family. And the kid is a total gem, because he’s convenient for the bad guy to take hostage (having obviously learned the address from TV)—allowing the hero not only to realize the value of family but also to articulate it to the child: «I’ve wronged your mother, your grandmother, and your dog; and I’m also guilty of spouting all this crap instead of just putting a bullet in the screenwriter.»

5. A mini psychoanalysis session. It invariably features the line: «You know what your problem is?» Usually, the bad guy delivers this while the good guy is bleeding out with a gun pointed at his face. The bad guy then identifies the problem—typically some utter nonsense like «You love your job too much, John»—but the scene simply wouldn't work without that «problem.» I feel the problem should be something like: «You kept those newspaper clippings too carefully, John.» That alone should be enough for the hero to pull himself together and kill the bad guy, avenging the desecrated newspaper clippings.

What’s the first thing to do after losing your virginity? That’s right: brag to your best friend. I went over to her place and told her everything in detail—from the foreplay my boyfriend tenderly lavished on me to our attempts to inject some passion into the actual deflowering. The story got us both so worked up that we started hugging, and the whole thing turned into a six-hour marathon in bed that lasted until dawn. It’s been nearly five years since then, and my memories of losing my virginity aren't linked to the boyfriend, but to my friend. I still think back to that night and wonder if I’ll ever have sex with that level of sincerity and mutual connection again.

* * *

To each their own… I had a dream last night that a dog was fucking me. It was awful… but in the dream, it felt good—almost to the point of orgasm. I’ve only watched bestiality porn once or twice in my life; I stumbled upon it by accident on the internet ages ago. In real life, I’ve never had—and hopefully never will have—desires like that :D

* * *

I’m a girl, and I love porn. During sex, I always imagine how I look from the outside—with a cock in my mouth, in the doggy-style position, or with semen on my chest. That «director’s eye» perspective really turns me on. Plus, you can always adjust your pose to make it look more aesthetic.

* * *

There have been plenty of times when I was masturbating and got that coveted «What are you up to?» message in my private chats. Naturally, my reply contains anything *but* the truth. But it makes me damn curious: how many times have I been an unwitting accomplice to someone else’s pleasurable activity without even realizing it?

* * *

Do you know what sexual hopelessness feels like? It’s when you’re used to masturbating by stimulating your clitoris while squeezing your legs together. I don't experience vaginal orgasms; I tried using my fingers during sex but realized I couldn't replicate what I do when I'm alone—and consequently, I couldn't climax. The medical term for this situation is «sexual solitude.» It’s incredibly frustrating, and it’s impossible to unlearn the habit now. Ladies, don't do this—you end up developing a conditioned reflex.

* * *

Before giving my first blowjob, I thought it was disgusting, gross—just totally yuck. But now, I can’t even imagine a morning or evening without giving one. The feeling of him trusting you with such an important part of himself makes you fall even more in love. And that moment when he holds my hand or places his hands on my head… mmm, it just blows my mind. There’s no feeling more arousing than that!

* * *

My ex was a sick bastard… He’d ask me not to wash up before oral sex, and he wouldn't wash his own cock either—it turned him on. He wanted me to pee on him and into his mouth. After he came inside me, he liked to gather it all up with his mouth and transfer it to me so I’d swallow it. He even asked me to take a shit during sex once (though I never actually worked up the nerve for that). He came up with all sorts of other stuff, too… Anyway, I loved him madly, so I did it all… Then he left me—even though we had a child together—and now he’s on his own. I wonder if he’ll ever find someone else willing to do the same things just out of love for him.

* * *

I used to love doggy style in all its variations, but then I started seeing an older man. He doesn't like that position; he thinks it’s «con-style» (like something you’d do in prison). At first, I thought, «Well, shit, that’s a bummer.» But it turned out to be a good thing—I climax like crazy in the missionary position because he moves just right; it feels amazing inside *and* puts pressure on my clitoris. Every time, I’m on the verge of tears because the sensation is so good. Plus, he doesn't just spin me around the bed on his dick—pardon the expression.

* * *

I have a wild craving for sex with a woodcarver. I just imagine: if he can create such masterpieces out of wood, what could he do to me with those hands?