My straight male friends are terrified of the morning-after lady brunch when women, they are sure, swap stories of their dexterity and stamina over mimosas. Ha ha! say the women they’ve slept with to all the women they would one day like to sleep with. (“Men are afraid that women will laugh at them.”) Perhaps some 20-something, cocktail-sipping ladies do just that. But I rarely hear lurid details fit for a “Sex and the City” brunch after the good or uneventful nights; women I know save that precision for something darker, when the answer begins “it’s not that bad, but.”