By Jacob Katel
By Karli Evans
By Jose D. Duran
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By Kat Bein
By Abel Folgar
By Laurie Charles
Ever since the creation of the Bon Iver Erotic Stories Tumblr page (boniverotica.tumblr.com), it has become impossible to separate the band's sleepy-eyed singer from the sexy, sexy tales that have been written about him. But as strange as this phenomenon might sound, it sorta makes sense. After all, Justin Vernon is a multiple Grammy winner with a dusky falsetto and a bedroom-ready bod thanks to a new workout regimen. He's basically D'Angelo in a flannel shirt.
But not everyone is ready to be a mother. And if you're not careful, Vernon will pluck your fallopian tubes like the strings of a pawnshop guitar and process the prenatal ultrasound through Auto-Tune for his 18th side project this year. However, if you get your head right, you will realize that a night with Mr. Justin Vernon isn't quite as romantic as it initially seems.
1700 Washington Ave.
Miami Beach, FL 33139
Category: Music Venues
Region: South Beach
As proof, here are the five least sexy erotic stories about Bon Iver's singer.
Cider and Donuts. The Erotic Story: "Bon Iver took me to the cider mill today. We sat on the cold, hard ground in the orchard and drank fresh cider from a rusted metal Thermos. The paper bag full of donuts we bought was half-transparent from grease. He pulled a donut from the bag and fed it to me in small bites, his fingers covered in cinnamon sugar. We made love under the trees, the rough granules of sugar melting with our heat."
The Not-So-Sexy Part: Justin Vernon's band travels with gym equipment and considers its health a top priority. Yet he's going to feed you a bag of doughnuts? It may not be full-blown Münchausen syndrome by proxy, but at the very least, it's munchies by proxy. Check his rucksack for any life insurance policies he might have taken out on you.
Sucking Freckles in Bed. The Erotic Story: "Each freckle has a nickname. Each kiss is the best one. Every interaction is significant: passionate or humorous or sweet. Our senses are alert, memorizing everything, because we know that we must leave this place eventually, and we know that the remembrance of our time here will consume us for hours and days. I'm in bed with Bon Iver."
The Not-So-Sexy Part: Seriously, skin cancer ain't nothing to mess with. This Bon Iver is a real sicko. Don't be surprised if you come back early from doing the wash in a creek, only to find him pouring asbestos into your humidifier.
The Crazy Horse Whisperer. The Erotic Story: "Bon Iver is saddling our Appaloosa. He's tied the reins of her hackamore to a tree in a stand of limber pine and is nuzzling her velvet nose, whispering something."
The Not-So-Sexy Part: Appaloosas are particularly susceptible to night blindness, meaning that your moonlit ride along the cliff's edge could soon turn disastrous. Not only that, but there is no creature on earth that can resist a whispering Bon Iver. So can you really trust that horse the next time Bon Iver rides into town for acorn squash seeds?
Stones, Sheets, and Spiced Wine. The Erotic Story: "It'll be cold tonight. We prepare by drinking hot spiced wine from the twice-fired mugs Bon Iver made for my name day. We bring the extra quilts to our room and slide heated stones between our sheets."
The Not-So-Sexy Part: It's easy to forget that Justin Vernon is the person, Bon Iver is the band. You thought you were moving to the cabin for a simple, beautiful life and he's gotten you into some freaky group thing. Fall asleep for a few minutes around this guy and it'll be Eyes Wide Shut by the time you open them.
Deep Into the Hearth. The Erotic Story: "Bon Iver has been up since earliest light, working on his new song. When I wake, the old oak table is strewn with papers and instruments: a fiddle, a tambourine, and the pennywhistle he always carries in his pocket. He fills the French press for me, wipes sleep from my eye, and muses, 'Can you think of words that rhyme with hearth?'"
The Not-So-Sexy Part: Here are some words that rhyme with hearth: Get the hell out of there! He's writing a song about chopping you up and throwing the pieces deep into the hearth!