I’ve lived in this beautiful, bustling metropolitan city my entire life but I’ve yet to engage in any kind of sexual intercourse at any of our major glorious tourist attractions. I am unsure if this is something desired by other locals, but I think often about how memorable such a fornication experience would be. I’ve visited these well-known places a countless number of times (and by countless, I mean like twice each and only when my American cousins were visiting); however, I haven’t done the most intimate act of all: go down on a good-looking Torontonian while passers-by from the Maritimes watch on in horror and intrigue and arousal but mostly horror probably. If you weren’t aware, this IS the definition of intimacy in the 6ix. So why haven’t I, a lifelong local, DONE IT?

Sure. I’ve occasionally sauntered down the paths of these notable venues while participating in very idealistic romantic situations, sans the full-on naked bumping, but we haven’t progressed to rounding home plate in the metaphorical Blue Jays game. I’ve shared a kiss or two or twenty in the GTA’s most historic of landmarks. I might have caressed a genital over the pants on a particularly erotic hang out and that genital may have belonged to a Raptor (it didn’t). But I have yet to give my bare clitoris a legit tour of dear old T.O., thus it’s officially been added to my extremely long, sensual coitus bucket list. Before I perish or move away or hit menopause, I would like my vagina to do its thing in/on/around/near/beside the following spots in the home of the Maple Leafs:

On top of the glass floor in the CN Tower

Nothing says “risky sex” like the possibility of plummeting to your death if you thrust slightly too hard. I can barely stand on this translucent ground never mind get off on it. But, hey, a challenge is a challenge and my vulva likes a challenge (but I could also do it a foot to the right of the glass floor as well for safety).

In the Bata Shoe Museum (only wearing a pair of their shoes)

I’ve always dreamed of making love while wearing heels and nothing else (even though I never wear heels), so of course I’m going to want to fulfill this dream in the land of the Canadian platforms.

On top of that garden car in Kensington Market

I’m sure I’m not the only stoned twenty-something who looked at that vehicle filled with soil and plants and sunflowers and thought, “One day I’m gonna orgasm on that thing. Who else is hungry?” And one day I will. Likely while high on something real nice.

Group sex in the “Group of Seven” room of the AGO

Nothing says “paint me like one of your Algonquin Park landscapes” like getting it on with seven nude individuals while the works of Franklin Carmichael, Lawren Harris, and A.Y. Jackson look on. You know the saying: “The hills in that watercolour have eyes.”

Underneath Jose Bautista

I mean…he’s not exactly a tourist attraction but he’s definitely one in my books. Am I right, horny women and men and anyone who is alive and breathing and seen a picture of him? He can flip my vag any day of the week.

Beside any dinosaur fossil in the ROM

An ex-boyfriend of mine drilled into my head that dinosaurs are ultra cool to the point that I started associating palaeontology with titillation. And you know what? The older the bone, the better the sex. I don’t know exactly what that means but I stand by it.

In a fucking castle at Casa Loma

I will be treated like the Queen of the Libidos and dozens of perfectly coiffed ladies and sirs will have consensual sex with me and it will be a pleasant time indeed and everyone will climax simultaneously and it will be just like a goddamn Disney fairy tale (totally unrealistic and made-up).

Doggy style in the Toronto Zoo

When in the zoo, do like the animals do…aka from BEHIND! Or hump each other’s legs. That works too.

Inside a shark tank at Ripley’s Aquarium

Minus the sharks. I don’t want to be eaten alive but I’d like to be eaten…um, well, you know what I mean. Wink wink wink.

Sidney Crosby in the Hockey Hall of Fame with a vibrator

It’s the most provocative game of Clue in town and it involves a man named Sidney Crosby. Regardless if it’s the real Sidney Crosby or just a dude who shares his name or a lookalike, I will be VERY interested. I will also have a sex toy, which, just so happens to be shaped like a hockey stick. Go Team!

While riding the Drop Zone at Canada’s Wonderland

I’m not sure if gravity would allow this and I could definitely see one of us breaking all of our bones in the process but sweet lord would it be exciting and invigorating and…fast, ‘cause the whole thing would last for about a minute. Been there before. You feel me, stereotypes?

Role playing at Black Creek Pioneer Village

All I want is for a man with a too long beard and too tall socks to hand me a bonnet and seat me beside a cow and call me Abigail. I will play the role of a milkmaid who is ready to grab any nipple in sight, preferably not for milking purposes.

In the middle of Air Canada Centre with Drake nearby

I would want the person that I’m romancing to start from the bottom, give me orgasms back to back, and then call me on my cellphone later because they need my love. And I want this all to happen while a smiling Aubrey Graham is within a hundred feet of our bodies.

In the spacecraft simulator room at the Ontario Science Centre

“Take my labia lips to the moon and back,” I will say to the lover pleasuring my many parts. A joke I will be sure to make: “Apollo does have a problem and that problem is that I only orgasmed once.” (Apollo is a nickname I just gave to my vagina.)

In the Eaton Centre on December 23rd

This will undoubtedly be the most chaotic sex that anyone has ever seen. The line-ups. The lack of circulation. The Christmas music. Happy Holiday shopping from my clitoris to yours.