A poly joke from browngirl
Mrs. Williams has a daughter, Sandra, who lives in Boston with two roommates, a couple named Richard and Lucy. When Mrs. Williams comes to visit Sandra for a holiday weekend, she notices how handsome Richard is, how funny and warm Lucy is, and how very friendly Sandra is with both of them, and raises her eyebrows at her daughter. Reading her mother’s thoughts, Sandra rolls her eyes and says, "Mom! They’re my roommates, of course we are friendly, but that’s it, OK? Sheesh!"
About a week later, Lucy asks Sandra, "Have you seen my silver punch ladle?" Sandra replies, "No, I haven’t, and Richard asked me about it yesterday too. When was the last time you saw it?" Lucy replies, slowly, looking more concerned with each word, "the last time I saw it was when your mother was visiting, and she helped me put away the dishes from Sunday brunch." Now, Mrs. Williams has a habit of taking towels from hotels, etc, so Sandra wrinkles her forehead and sits down to compose as diplomatic an email as she can. "Dear Mom," she writes," I’m not saying that you *did* take the punch ladle from my house, and I'm not saying that you *did not* take it. But the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you left. Love, your daughter Sandra."
Two days later, Sandra receives a reply to her email. "My darling daughter," it reads, "I'm not saying that you *do* sleep with Lucy and Richard, and I'm not saying that you *don't* sleep with them. But the fact remains that if you *were* sleeping in your own bed, you would have found the ladle by now. Love always, your Mom."
About a week later, Lucy asks Sandra, "Have you seen my silver punch ladle?" Sandra replies, "No, I haven’t, and Richard asked me about it yesterday too. When was the last time you saw it?" Lucy replies, slowly, looking more concerned with each word, "the last time I saw it was when your mother was visiting, and she helped me put away the dishes from Sunday brunch." Now, Mrs. Williams has a habit of taking towels from hotels, etc, so Sandra wrinkles her forehead and sits down to compose as diplomatic an email as she can. "Dear Mom," she writes," I’m not saying that you *did* take the punch ladle from my house, and I'm not saying that you *did not* take it. But the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you left. Love, your daughter Sandra."
Two days later, Sandra receives a reply to her email. "My darling daughter," it reads, "I'm not saying that you *do* sleep with Lucy and Richard, and I'm not saying that you *don't* sleep with them. But the fact remains that if you *were* sleeping in your own bed, you would have found the ladle by now. Love always, your Mom."