Purple Oves

So, I need to take the time to write about the phenomenon that is female blue balls.  I want to change the name to female blue vaginal tract but that just sounds too scientific so I’m going to call it purple oves.  Here’s what I’m talking about.  Sometimes (3 times a day), I find the need to rub one out.  The problem I come across is this internal “ache” that seems to occur due to the lack of penetration (unfortunately, I have yet to find a vibrator that sustains me, but that’s besides the point).

So, it gets me wondering whether I’m the only with this problem.  And I know it isn’t.  Females are just not inclined to claim they have blue balls (let alone admit they jerk off).  But whatever.  The problem is that females just don’t like to admit that they like something in them.  I only get it when I’m in heavy foreplay or I’m rubbing one out.  The minute I get penetrated, there is no reason for the feeling to come about. 

I think that people put a greater emphasis on male blue balls and fail to realize that there are women that have similar needs that fail to be met.  Evolution has developed men to be able to bust into a woman.  Failure for such “bustage” results in the age-old blue balls. 

So, why can’t females feel the same evolutionary instinct when they have lack of dick in them?  It’s not so much a question as it is a fact.  I’m fairly neo-feminist (if not totally obvious) and think that while certain double standards are appropriate, others not so much.

This all boils down to a female’s need to have sex.  Not just a need, but an inherent and biological mechanism that can actually cause pain if not fulfilled.  That all being said, I have a few postulations (don’t know if that’s a word, don’t really care).  A female can absolutely have purple oves and need to have sex.  It’s part of her biological nature.  A male can absolutely have blue balls and need to have sex.  Again, it’s part of his biological nature. 

That all being said, it isn’t a myth as much as it is a biological phenomenon that gives both sexes an actual reason to get some.  So I get a slight bother when I get questions about what to do when their mates are not providing sexually.  I’m not saying the 3-times a day bullshit I need, but even just the 3-times a week schedule.  It bothers me because there is a clear disconnect between the mates.  A.  There are likely communication issues, and B.  There is no way this relationship is going to work, if you can’t even move on the physical.

Sex is evolved to be a biological need.  If there is a disconnect (as I outlined above), then there is likely a weed out happening.  I hate saying that because you all paint pretty pictures in your head that you’re going to find the perfect girl or guy who will want to have sex or won’t want to have sex on your terms only.  It’s definitely not like that. 

So, I want to propose this.  Before you delve deep into a relationship with wining, dining, meeting the parents, taking vacations, etc.  Please be sure and make sure you are both on the same sexual needs tract.  It will save both of you some time.  Please trust me on this.

I’m dedicating this post to the pathetic women out there that think they can talk to a dude till 4am and not expect to go home with him.  Good luck with that, idiot.    

Face Down. Ass Up. Choke.

So this weekend, my friend PP disappeared off the face of the planet, so I was left to fend for myself.  Given the grave state of my number of friends, I called up one of my friends, John, to entertain me.  Before you jump to the obvious conclusion that he was in me for the weekend, he was not.  John is actually a great friend of mine, rather tame, but honest enough to keep me honest, at least for the short time he was with me.

In any event, I had John join me for some weekend drinks, dinner, and shoot the shit.  It was great to catch up with him since he missed my birthday and I missed him when he was in town.  It was pretty interesting to hear him talk about a latest chick in his life. 

I’m always very defensive when it comes to any chick one of my guys wants to bring around.  My mantra is always ‘guilty until proven innocent’, so I was ready to rip into this chick.  However, I was actually pleasantly surprised at the information provided. 

Apparently, John and this chick have been fooling around for about a week.  They haven’t had sex yet, but she has informed him that she is into unorthodox sexual activities.  So I had to feed him a couple of his favorite margaritas to pry the information from him.

This girl is up for anything.  S&M, choking, tying up, I won’t even go into the conversation we had about the zucchinis and cucumbers.  So the girl was someone after my own heart.  What was the big deal right?  The big deal is that it was John who was attracted to her.

Like I said, John is a tame guy.  He is a legitimate good guy.  I mean, I get that opposites attract, there’s obviously a reason he and I are friends, but I started wondering how that all works in bed.  I have had some tame guys in my bed (mostly because I’m stronger than all of them).  I’m into some freakish things, and frankly, don’t introduce it right off the bat given the unusual nature of my kinks.

But how do you have a conversation about these things?  I’m obviously a big proponent of communication, so my first instinct would be to just ask a guy (or girl) what s/he is into.  I think that a lot of people are afraid to do this because you put your kinks on the table and it might scare someone off.  I mean its true, but frankly, do you want to be with someone who can’t share in your love of a nipple clamp?

Okay, so when is the right time to bring something like this up?  I mean, John is 5 days into this thing and he’s already wondering whether he should get a cucumber or a zucchini.  I’ve brought up my nuances with a couple of guys, but like I said, the dudes were too tame to satisfy me. 

My theory is that these tame guys are usually into tame girls, but while they’re “sowing their oats”, they find girls like me (and John’s girl) who give them what they won’t be able to experience in the future.  They’re biologically secure with these girls because they aren’t trying to get impregnated nor are they trying to foster a relationship.  It’s pure unadulterated sex.  (And frankly, my favorite kind of sex).  Once they’ve gotten a feel of the wild side, they will settle down with their fellow tame girls (girls I loathe) and make a pack of tame kids. 

I’ve kind of gone all over the place here, but I want to leave you with a few questions.  Are you into a weird fetish or kink?  If so, and you are in a relationship, does your partner share in it?  And if not, do you let your partners know right off the bat, or later down the line?  In the meantime, I’m going to go ahead and enjoy my zucchini casserole. 

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Cheaters Always Propser

The last few guys I’ve slept with have either had a girlfriend or were married.  That makes me the mistress, which is a role that I’m actually more than comfortable playing, mostly because I’m a legitimate sociopath.  In all seriousness though, I have several friends who actually have a conscience and would NEVER do such a thing.  While I’ve written about this situation before, I thought it would be nice to do a deep dive as requested by some of my protégés.

There’s a double standard between being a male mistress (maletress?) vs. a female mistress.  We mostly hear of the scandalous tales of the mistress disrupting the perfect union between some wack ass dude and his unassuming girlfriend.  I mean there is a reason a guy will cheat on his girlfriend, and it’s because the trick is stupid, boring, and naive. 

Treading on that for a minute, you’ll also notice the drastic differences between the cheated and cheatee.  Generally speaking, people are more likely to cheat on their mates with someone who is less likely to commit to them in the long run. 

I condone cheating.  I think I’ve made that pretty clear.  Men will always cheat.  They need to because being “faithful” is not conducive to their gene perpetuation.  The mistress is a man’s best-kept secret.  Most of my male friends have or have had their own chick on the side, and I always end up judging the girl as a bitch ass waste of space.    

To be honest, even though I’ve played the role, it’s a stupid role to play, but only for females who think they will manage a relationship out of the situation.  The problem is, however, is that the guy will never leave his girlfriend.  And even if he does, he’ll go ahead and do it again, and this time it’s worse because he’s doing it to you.  On the other hand, if you are just passing time, and don’t expect anything but a physical “bang bang”, then hell, go for it.

There is likely no evolutionary reason for a mistress to stay in this union.  I mean, she’s probably thinking that in some respect, the guy will provide some sort of resource or genetic superiority, but he’s already going to be dispensing his resources elsewhere, so technically there is no point.  Going back to my conscience-toting friends, most just don’t want the karma to come back and bite them in the ass.  Not to mention preserving the “sanctity of marriage” bullshit.

Get real.  I always go back to the same argument.  Marriage is unnatural.  Commitment is unnatural.  How can the population perpetuate, if historically, our ancestors didn’t cheat on their mates?  I guess what it comes down to is that being a mistress/maletress shouldn’t really be considered such a shameful taboo.  It’s a natural part of selection.   So if there are any dudes out there that want to select me as their mistress, feel free to ask me for my number. 

...tbc.

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Easy, Girl.

I’m one horny motherfucker. I’m glued to my television, watching CNN, and growing increasingly restless at the thought of being stuck indoors because of this stupid storm. And all I want is someone to come over to keep me occupied before I lose my mind (I mean, too late for that).

So my mind wanders to about a few weeks ago, when I agreed to go on a date with a friend of a friend, who I’ll call “Nooner” for obvious reasons. Nooner and I had a lot in common so we were able to sustain conversation for the entire duration of our standard drinks and dinner. After we were thoroughly imbibed, I invited him over to really just shoot the shit (but truth be told, if I invite you over, you pretty much win). And really, you can guess what happened next.

It got me thinking about having sex on a first date. If you are anything like me (and god help you if you are), there is no such thing as waiting for a second date to have sex. But of course, I’m a psychotic exception, so I posed the question to my esteemed colleagues and loyal twitter followers. And true to form, I received arguments for both sides of the story.

I can talk about sexual compatibility for days on end, because that’s really what it comes down to. Sexual compatibility is just as important as emotional compatibility, if not more so. If you are going to sit down and have a conversation with a potential mate to see if you are emotionally compatible, why not see where the night ends up and perhaps turn it into a fuck fest in your bedroom.

I mean I guess I just don’t understand the counter argument. There’s a stigma around having sex on the first date. Mostly with females, but in some occasions with males too. People want to foster a relationship and make sure they are compatible before giving it all up. I mean I get it, but does no one believe in the idea of sexual compatibility? I’m not by any means saying that you should just meet someone and have sex, but I don’t think you should hold yourself back if the chemistry is there.

From what I gather, males think to tend think a female is easy if she sleeps with him on a first date. Fine. But why does it have such a negative connotation? The girl is just trying to see if she’s compatible. Why not be easy? Or for that matter, why not be fast? Is it really so demeaning?

Males always have an easier time with sex on a first date because they are always ready to go. I mean, I’m generalizing, but if there is a male out there who doesn’t feel that way, he’s being weeded out (and I dare you to prove me wrong). Males are always willing to have sex on a first date, they’re just trying to spread their seed around, so it’s natural, primal, all that other shit I preach to world’s end.

Back to Nooner, I had sex with him on the first night I met him, shamelessly and damn was it good. If you know me at all, I hate dating. I think it’s archaic and unnatural, but hey I’m also being evolutionarily weeded out. Anyway, I’d be interested in keeping Nooner around for a bit (despite his 7 inches), if he’d ever return my propositions (clearly I’m hoping he’ll read this and get the hint).

Truth be told, if I was into dating, I might give Nooner a chance. But he might just end up thinking I’m easy.

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The Importance of Coming

Orgasms are evolutionarily evolved. So when someone tells me that they are overrated, I flip my shit. I mean, lets forget for a second that I have anger management issues. Male or female, who in their right mind would forgo the epic sensation that is the orgasm? Have you read my recent post how there is no point in having sex if you aren’t going to orgasm? It’s biologically and physically necessary.

So I posed this question to my increasingly sex hungry colleagues. Is an orgasm really necessary in a coital relationship? The response was overwhelming. Under no circumstance should a person deny himself or herself an orgasm. Now there are always the exceptions to the rule. Some people (a VERY small percentage) are not even physically capable of having an orgasm while others have never even experienced one.

That all being said while I’m not an advocate of having sex without an orgasm, I can understand the justification of someone faking an orgasm (and I’m not just talking about females here, males have also been known to fake an ejaculation). Faking an orgasm is actually one of the most primitive mate retention tactics. The evolutionary basis behind an orgasm is the mechanism it provides in propelling the sperm up to the uterine wall (both male and female orgasms are evolved in this method). A woman’s vagina contracts allowing fluids to flow into her uterus, while a male’s “squirting” ejaculation is meant to propel sperm to the uterus. Hand in hand, sperm to egg is such an easy task to overcome. Luckily for us, it is one of the most pleasurable experiences in life, if not the MOST pleasurable.

Going back to mate retention, it’s a female’s primal duty to ensure her mate doesn’t stray to some other random red-head broad down the street. To ensure he doesn’t inseminate another female and expend his resources elsewhere. However, if a woman isn’t achieving orgasm, it decreases her chances of procreating so she will go elsewhere to find a mate who will appropriately “squirt” into her. Conversely, if a male can’t get off, he’ll go elsewhere to find a more pleasurable mate (and honestly that female usually ends up being me).

This sexual incompatibility will result in mate retention problems (i.e. cheating, cuckoldry, etc). And all because of a measly orgasm. Not so overrated, don’t you think? So look, I get what she’s trying to say. She has a lot in common with this guy, they get along, he can provide for her and her prerogative, he holds her hand, yada yada yada, but the bottom line is if he can’t get her off, the relationship is doomed.

Furthermore, there is no reason to fake an orgasm. You fake it once, you’ll fake it for the rest of your time with your mate until you break up or cheat. Sex is the root of life. There is a biological basis behind the pleasure involved in the orgasm and if you can’t achieve it, there is really no point in the act itself. The orgasm isn’t by any means overrated. It’s a tool, a mechanism in the process of procreation.

I haven’t had the need (knock on wood) to EVER fake an orgasm. I have been blessed (and perhaps cursed) to be able to finish fast and often. That being said, I’m still single, and it goes to show you that sexual compatibility is just part of the bigger picture.

That was certainly a mouthful. Time to rub one out.

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Alone in Manhattan

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School Girl Fantasy

Sex in school. This week, the New York City public school system has put into effect a new mandate requiring sex education classes at city public schools. If you don’t have an opinion, you should get one. Almost 10% of females in this city’s public high school system are pregnant. That’s actually a pretty high statistic. 20 years ago, our open-minded city shut down the sex education program as a result of heavy opposition from the city and of course overzealous religious groups (I feel very close to Dan Savage at this moment).

I’m as open about my sexuality as Margo Wilson (god rest her soul, the mother of human sexuality). I’m very sex-positive, and I’m always striving for people to explore their sexuality and go out of their comfort zones. On a completely separate note, I volunteer. I volunteer 8am to 5pm every Saturday from September to June. The kids I work with are mostly girls aged 8 to 14. Over the course of five years, I’ve lost two girls to pregnancy.

Ten years ago, when I was in high school, I had the sex ed course. Pregnant girls were shunned and everyone avoided eyes with them. It’s 2011 and the number of pregnant teenagers has not only increased, but become glorified in the form of movies and tv (Juno and those teen pregnancy shows on MTV). Girls are making “pregnancy pacts” to ensure all their children grow up together. Seriously?

Going back to the sex ed mandate, I’ve posed the question to several people of all shapes, colors, and sizes. I received pretty much the same answer (and why wouldn’t I, living in this blue city), in that sex ed absolutely should be integrated into the public school system. Students, from middle school on, should be “schooled” on the ins and outs of sex and sexuality. They should know the proper names of their genitalia and how to put on a condom. They should have fear instilled into them regarding the risk of STDs and the downfalls of pregnancy at such a young age.

I know I sound preachy, but given the two girls I’ve lost to not being schooled in the ways of the sexual world, I have the right to be a little peeved. Now look, there are plenty of cons to introducing sex into the still-developing minds of our future. Introducing sex might just push them off the edge, giving them a reason to their promiscuity. Obviously I’m sex positive, and I’m supportive of matured people exploring their sexuality and sexual identify. That being said, as long as the consequences are made VERY clear, there is no reason not to have sex ed as a mandate in the schools.

I waited till I was 22 to have sex, mainly because I was scared of getting pregnant. Even the idea of birth control was no reason for me to spread my legs. Even now, I track my ovulation very carefully, always use a condom (the truth is, I’ve never done it raw…cue all of your jaws dropping), and get tested at least once a month. There is nothing as too safe (except of course no sex, which I do NOT condone).

Not only are human beings evolving, but also sex and sexuality are evolving. New ideas are sprouting in (and out of the bedroom). People are exploring sexuality, sexual identity, and orientation now more than ever, and it’s just going to increase as we continue to evolve. I can’t support a generation that is literally devolving from the strong career-driven woman of the 21st century.

The sex ed mandate is a very controversial topic and I’ve heard very strong support for it. What I’ve failed to hear is the strong support against it, and I know it’s out there. So, I pose the question out there. If you are not in favor of the new sex ed mandate in the NYC school system, please tell me why and how you think the high rate of teen pregnancies is affected by it.

I dedicate this post to the two girls I lost to pregnancy. I’m not sure what’s going on with them at this point in their life, but I hope they are safe and above all, happy.

I Make 'Em Bust Quick

I always say that there is no point of having sex unless you have an orgasm. I’ve been doing this twitter guy, JB, who has left me pretty satisfied, but I mean, you’re always going to have that one night when he finishes too fast, and that’s when I go psycho on a dude's ass (could be a reason why I’ve been highly agitated this week…hmm). I feel like there’s nothing he can do to make it up to me. I posed this question to my friend, Pina, and she agrees,

"...fingering and oral sex doesn't make up for premature ejaculation...”

I have biological theories about the “premature ejaculation” that I won’t go into today. I mean it’s happened with every guy I’ve slept with and every guy in general (and those numbers are actually pretty close). In all seriousness though, it’s always the same story. Girls hate it and men are embarrassed by it. So how do we recover from it?

It’s like how Pina puts it; even a perfect anatomically correct model in the form of one of those vibrators I so adeptly broke cannot make up for a live dick. It’s just the way it is. Not to mention if you are wet as a river, getting pounded from behind, with your hair being pulled off your scalp—and then BAM. He finishes, and you’re so fucking frustrated, you punch the dude in his balls (based on a true story).

That’s not to say that men don’t have their own frustrations. Blue balls are a common phenomenon, (although I have yet to see or taste an actual pair of blue scrotum), and I suspect it’s the same idea. Men are so worked up to get off, and for whatever reason, they don’t, and want to punch a girl in her ovaries (Is that from a movie? It sounds familiar).

Okay, back to PE. I mean there’s nothing that can be done. You have to go with the flow, hope for the best that he’ll be roaring to go in 5, 10, or 30 minutes. I do want to take this time to discuss the Coolidge effect. You can google why it got that name, but I’ll talk about what it is. Standard copulation includes a male who ejaculates into a female and then takes time to get it up again (which is sometimes frustrating for us females). However, the theory behind the Coolidge effect is that if female-1 steps out of the room, post coitus, female-2 can come in and the male will immediately be ready to go again. Did I make that clear?

Because he’s already inseminated one female, he would be biologically ready to go again in another female who he hasn’t already inseminated (and in turn perpetuated his gene pool). Now, unfortunately, we haven’t been able to have a controlled setting to test this theory in humans (I’ve actually looked into doing a study for this, email me if you want to know what happened with my grant submission), but it was first observed in chickens (with Calvin Coolidge) and then taken into the lab with rats.

The data is pretty amazing surrounding the Coolidge effect theory, and quite honestly, I’d love to test it out. I think we’ve come a far way from my story about PE, but we’re still talking ejaculation, so it’s still relevant.

I haven’t had the worst luck with guys who have prematurely ejaculated (which is strange considering my tagline is “I Make ‘Em Bust Quick”). I think I’ve managed to pick out guys who I know can handle. But that’s not to say there isn’t a way around a dude who busts quick.

First of all, virgins are ALWAYS more susceptible to finishing fast, so I avoid them at all costs (not to mention they get clingy as hell, please also read previous post entitled “There’s A First Time For Everything” regarding how to avoid a PE with a virgin).

Virgins aren’t the only ones that finish fast. Some guys just have bad days, and you don’t realize it’s going to happen. However, there are some guys who are just always going to finish fast. Based on research I’ve done (i.e. asking my friends who are just about all male), jerking off regularly is one of the best ways to avoid prematurely ejaculating. I wonder about the term regularly. On average, I rub one out once a day, but from what I understand, it’s a higher rate for males. Whatever the average masturbation rate is for males is what I recommend, not just for guys having PE problems, but also for all dudes in general. Masturbation is underrated.

In any event, I’ve offered some advice on how to avoid the PE in prior posts, but I’d be really interested in hearing what some of you do to avoid busting quick. Ladies, do you have any special techniques that keep your trysts from finishing before you’re ready?

I dedicate this post to twitter guy, JB, whose small dick and one PE still manages to make me laugh. (Relax; I’m not in love with him).

(Editor's Note: I posed an off topic question to my twitter followers about a separate entry regarding the necessity/enjoyment of an orgasm. One of my followers made a very good point in that the PE is tied to a woman's a. inability to achieve orgasm, and b. a lower desire to achieve one. I just thought I'd share as it ties into the PE discussion above. Please see future blog post on orgasms for more on the topic)

Dickpiphany.

I’m sleeping with a guy from twitter who has a pretty small dick. It’s not the smallest I’ve seen, but since he’s current, I thought I’d talk about it. I’ve written a post about my preference of a small dick over a big dick, but that was based on a comfort thing. I want to talk today of the evolutionary basis of the preference for a small dick.

So let me talk about the guy for a minute. I met him on twitter (I promise, its only the 2nd guy I’ve done via twitter), so I really should have known better, but I got over it because let’s face it, I’m a legend and the guy should be so lucky. Okay enough self-praise, back to the guy; let’s call him, JB. Of course JB is kind of a pansy, (which I’m finding is most of twitter and mostly what I attract, but see later blog post on the correlation between social media, aggressive women, and pansy-ass dudes). Okay, so JB is a pansy. He is pretty good looking, an engineer, and lives in the NYC/NJ Metro area. The guy lives with his parents, which I did hold against him, until I slept with him and the sex was pretty amazing, so I managed to look past it the first night…then the second night…and the next morning…. you get the point.

Okay so back to his dick, like I said, it wasn’t the smallest I’ve seen, so I was pretty content. Females are programmed to prefer a big dick and there is a simple reason for this. Since sex is the method to pro-create, a bigger (see: longer, girthier) dick is more likely to impregnate a woman’s ovulating system than a small (see: short, skinnier) dick. A big dick can reach the egg whereas a small dick cannot. Does that make sense? Biologically, women are attracted to a bigger dick because that dick can reach the egg better than a smaller one. It’s so simple.

Now, what about females like me who kick big dicks out of my apartment? I hate to sound facetious so take this as seriously as you can, but we are being evolutionary weeded out. And it totally makes sense. I don’t want to have any kids. I just took a five-minute break because I had an evolutionary epiphany and had to tell my friends. So what does all this have to do with the small dicks in my recent life? My personal market research has shown that guys that I sleep with who have small dicks are not interested in having any future offspring. Can you guess why? Because small dicks are a result of being weeded out evolutionarily! They are already biologically programmed to NOT pro-create. Mind blowing right? It makes perfect sense that a small-dick dude and a shallow-set vag (me) would be the ideal mating solution. There would be (ideally) no pro-creation, but the primal instinct to copulate could still occur. I still can’t get over it.

So I ran this by my girlfriend, Shari, who wants to get married and have kids one day. The problem is, she doesn’t prefer a big dick. Unfortunately, I put things into perspective for her (ironically, on route via the Q-train to Queens to a baby shower for a close friend). She, too, is being evolutionary weeded out. Women who don’t prefer a big dick are not biologically primed to pro-create. I hated giving Shari the bad news, but I was also in an angry mood yesterday morning, so I guess I didn’t care. Still, it was Shari and I love her more than the world.

Today I had brunch with a bunch of educated females, who I’m sure I scarred for life, but I ran this theory by. I think that no one believes my bull shit, but in the end, they all took away something and I suspect they will all report back to me their experiences with their respective dicks to determine whether my theory is sound.

I want to dedicate this post to the ladies I had brunch with today. Prove me wrong and the next brunch is on me.

Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me.

This week, I was going to write my opinion about sex on the first date, but then someone asked me how to steal a girl’s boyfriend, so my gears switched up. I think she was being facetious, but truth be told, we were bred to compete for the ideal mate. So when someone comes around asking me how to do this, it’s actually an easy one to answer.

First and foremost, no matter what anyone says otherwise, you have to look the part. A genetically viable female is one who has those childbearing hips and a large enough chest to feed milk to her offspring for days. Men will try and deny this at all costs, but in the end, they’ll marry the curvy chick over the skinny one any day. Trust me.

You can’t just grow these genetically viable physical traits over night. In fact, society has allowed to us feign certain characteristics with the invention of butt pads and boob jobs, but let’s be honest, hooking a guy is easy to do if you know what needs to be done.

Second of all, being easy and fast isn’t going to land you this guy. A coy female is the prime female. Humans are one of the only species (if not the only) who have a hidden ovulation system. Men are more likely to mate with an ovulating woman than one who isn’t (the better to spread his seed, right?). That being said, since men are unaware of whether a female is ovulating or not, the coyer the female, the better the chances a female will land a mate by deception.

Does that make sense? If it doesn’t, let me know. It makes sense in my head, but I mean, I’ve studied this inside out. Okay, so anyway, besides being coy, I hate to say it, but a female in need is also attractive to males. Males in just about all species are bred to provide for their investment. They invest in a woman. She invests in him, and together they produce offspring to carry on the lineage. Okay, so back to being a female in need. There are females out there (mostly yours truly) who are NEVER in need of a male’s resource. Males aren’t attracted to this. They want a female who “needs” his resources.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there is not a DAMN thing wrong with being independent, but you really want to snag a mate, then use those deception skills and let him feel needed. And don’t over do it. That’s when you become a “needy chick”. Don’t be that girl.

I know I’m going to be shunned by my fellow neo-feministic counter parts, but I can’t help but support the biological way that we were created. I know many females and males are going to disagree with my theory, but I really brought up this subject to see what others think on the view of deception and mate competition in general.

I dedicate this to all the girls who wants guys who have girlfriends. You’re better than those bitches anyway.

“…90% of dudes are little bitches, give or take 10%...”~ @jayang.

Females have a natural tendency to harness “excitement” in their life. (I hate the word “drama” so much, that I’m going to refer to it as “excitement” from this point on). They thrive off of the competition and jealousy that always involves the attention of a male whether directly or indirectly. It’s inevitable and something I’d rather not condone, but I understand its means, and it’s certainly justified (just like cheating, cuckoldry, sperm competition, and the like). There are some of us who are being weeded out, evolutionary (which I’ve come to terms with) who don’t experience jealousy or have a direct competitive zeal around other women. We won’t be procreating, and have no reason to.

So anyway, with respect to some of my more "fun" sexual trysts, I’ve found that males are actually very prone to this type of “excitement” in their life. These guys are literally acting like “little bitches” complaining and moaning about the most trifling little details.

Speaking with my sounding boards, I’ve found that the urban environment is actually overrun with these types of guys. Now I am completely aligned with male jealousy. I’ve published papers on the emotional jealousy versus sexual jealousy, so I understand that there is a reason behind it in both male and female sexes. I’m not talking about that kind of “excitement”. I’m talking about that middle school shit that we, adults, don’t know how to deal with in the present day, and I can’t, and I won’t tolerate it.

I have a male friend, John, who I’ve known for about 10 years. He is the youngest of three, college-educated, unemployed, but still able to come out and party every now and then. He’s lost touch with many of our (former) mutual friends, simply because of petty bullshit. Examples include: “This guy hooked up with his former girlfriend.” “This girl broke up with him.” Stupid stuff that isn’t even worth expanding on.

John and I don’t talk much anymore, and I think I’m realizing why. John doesn’t share the issues and concerns that I have. I need to worry about my finances, running an organization and working full-time at the same time, dance class, training, etc. He worries about who has the better BMW (that was provided by their parents), where the “it” place to be is on Friday (which is usually a mere 20 minutes away and in a strip mall), and which girl he’ll be taking home following that night (who will be 19, drunk, and easy).

Looking at back at what I just wrote, I remember hanging out with my two very favorite friends, Jay D. and Jay K. (they both had the same name, so I’ll let their pseudonyms be the same as well). I remember worrying about whether I’d inherit my dads Benz or my moms Four runner. I remember trying to get out on Friday night to go to the party being held at Baja Beach Club on Columbus Ave and worrying if Jay K’s girlfriend would show up or not in the hopes that he would make out with me at the end of the night. I remember all this, and it was from 1996.

It’s clear that John and I are on different wavelengths, but it pains me to think that someone who was once such a good friend to me is now so different from me and can’t understand what it means to truly have a concern or issue. There is much more to life than cars, girls, and parties. I know it sounds cliché, but it needs to be said. I can’t help but blame these guys for not stepping outside their self-made bubble and see that there is more to life than the petty shit they are getting pissed off and angry about.

I also can’t help but blame these guys for being dependent (not just physically, but emotionally as well). That being said, I need to implement a new rule (and hope my fellow females will follow suit) to do your homework with a dude. Is he dependent on his family? Is he hung up on an ex? Is he constantly worrying about stupid petty shit that doesn't matter? Throw caution to the wind, the majority of these guys may seem harmless at first, but they’ll burn you in the end (and with the stupidest shit you’ll keep shaking your head at after it happens).

Two things I want to leave you with before I sign off. Friendship is fine, but be careful with these “little bitches” (as I like to call them). a. These guys are stuck in a bubble, and you won’t want to be there when it bursts and b. He’ll be a needy little bitch throughout the courting (friendship or otherwise) process and will whine and pout if he doesn’t get his way. This guy is also being weeded out evolutionary, but it’s for a different reason, obviously.

I’m dedicating this post to all the little bitches out there. Get off of your parents couches and go worry about something real for a change.

Wedding Season is Officially Over

So wedding season is over. Unfortunately, no great epiphanies came to me as I was participating. On approximately four hours of sleep over the course of two days at a best friends wedding, by the reception, I had no desire to go home with a groomsman I was eyeing who I knew would make an interesting post.

Wedding season wasn’t as terrible as I had anticipated, and I know it has all to do with how much fun I had, but it would be AWESOME to have a wedding simply to have the HUGE party. So as I’m thinking about it, all the thoughts in my head went around decorations, outfits, bridesmaids, etc. I didn’t even think about “my future partner”. I couldn’t even imagine what married life would be like.

People tell me that I just haven’t found the right guy to turn me straight. As much as I try to convince myself, I don’t believe it. I can’t even get attached to a guy I’m regularly sleeping with. So it got me thinking that maybe I’m subconsciously attracted to guys who I know I can’t become attached to.

Recent history has shown me that just about every guy I’ve hooked up with has been extremely gorgeous and successful. I know you’re thinking what the hell, I’m attracted to the perfect guy. No. In fact, if a guy is gorgeous and successful, he’s more likely to be picked up by some other girl so I don’t have to deal with his bullshit. Plus, this other girl is more likely to be docile (look amongst yourselves, ladies).

I’ve done married guys, engaged guys, and attached guys. All guys, who in the end, won’t need to commit to me. That all being said, how is a “right guy” going to come along? I’ve had my moments of weaknesses: Wayne, Pecs, etc, but in the end, I wasn’t really interested, and they were just guys to pass the time with.

I think what I’m trying to get at is that there might not be someone out there who is a “right guy” or “right girl”. If you have a habit of being attracted to the same person over and over again, none of them are going to be “right”. There’s a reason that it didn’t work with the first one.

I’m not suggesting that how I am is the right way to do things. Obviously, tons of people are in relationships and married, and half of them actually do succeed, but I can’t sit here and support this idea that there is someone out there for everyone. It’s not true. There are people ahead of evolution and there are some that are behind. Then there are those….that settle.

Play by the Rules, Boys.

Over the course of the past four months my friend, Shari, has been seeing this tasty little number, Raj. With an average of about one date per month, she went on date number four last night. Shari was staying with me for the weekend, so last night, he met us at my place and we headed over to some out-of-the-way bar in Soho. I had to immediately trek back home because the arepas I had earlier that night weren’t settling well in my stomach.

It was my first time meeting Raj, and after what I heard about it him, I was pretty psyched to meet him. He was a straight out of Brooklyn type kid who was clearly intelligent. It was clear that he was psychologically capable of reading a situation. Even Shari was able to pick up on his ability to "analyze".

I didn’t even hear Shari come home in the morning, which I suspect was around 4am (and I know you’re thinking, hey, light sleeper, let me try and break in. I’m not, go ahead and try it, you’ll be staring down the barrel of my .45 berretta that I’ll bitch slap you with.). To be honest, I had hoped she wouldn’t come back and would spend the night at Raj’s not because I didn’t want her here, god no. Shari is actually one of two of my closest friends. While she hasn’t given her virginity up yet, she isn’t as straight arrow as you might think. So, I was hoping she would get just a little lucky.

So anyway, I woke up at 9am and noticed that she was here, and immediately proceeded to wake her up and find out if she hooked up. She didn’t. This meant we launched into the post-date analysis. If you know me, you’d know that I hate analyzing a situation. Nothing should have to be analyzed, and everything should just be straightforward. Unfortunately, I’m the only one of my friends who thinks this way.

Thus, we analyzed. What was Raj’s deal? He pings Shari on the computer regularly. Shari proactively texts Raj while he continues to be reactive. He hasn’t kissed her yet. New-age computer conversations and text messaging. Four months, four dates. It may sound hackneyed, but it’s what our generation is about, and you know it, so deal with. In other words, a phone call would have made so much more sense, but we’re in 2011, so it doesn’t.

In any event, Shari has been putting in more of an effort than Raj. We could spend countless hours wondering if he was interested or not. My theory is simple. Why entertain a gorgeous, OVERLY educated female in your already complicated life if you’re not interested? Whether he is interested or not, why go through the trouble?

I’m very protective of my friends, so I’m judgmental of ANYONE they bring around me. Whether it’s a guy, girl, dog, or bamboo shoot. I hate dealing with partners of my friends who can’t follow the evolutionary rules. I am totally supportive of the fact that you can’t commit because it’s biological. But don’t string my friend along if you don’t know what you are interested in. It seems almost parsimonious that he is still around because he is interested in something long term.

I could go into the whole long ramble into how girls and guys can’t be friends (the short story is that one end is ALWAYS going to want to sleep with the other end, it’s just the way nature developed us), but I won’t go into that in this post.

Because we live in a society where commitment is the norm, I realize that guys have complexes about commitment since historically, there is minimal basis for a man to commit. I just don't condone uncertainty. I don’t get what the big deal is. Either you want to commit or you don’t. It doesn’t make any biological sense why guys can’t be straightforward like their ancestral counterparts. A coy female is more evolutionarily sound than a coy male.

I’m not saying Raj is one of these guys; it just brought this question to my mind. Guys are really easy to read. I’m not lying. They play by the evolutionary rules about 90% of the time, and it’s more than easy to get what you want out of them. When they don’t play by the rules, and a woman like me comes around to call them out, they end up wanting to kill themselves for being called out as an insecure male. It’s sad, but true, and frankly, I don’t care.

If Shari wants to bring Raj around me again, I’ll be interested in learning more about him so that I can analyze him and figure out what his deal is. Does he really want to be with Shari? Or is he just stringing her along until something better comes along? Obviously, I have my own theories, but perhaps you all out there have something to offer. I’d be happy to be debunked of my own preconceptions regarding a man’s ability to commit.

I have to once again dedicate this post to Shari, for without her, I would have jumped off the Walt Whitman Bridge years ago. I love you.

The Proverbial Sugar Mommy

So I think I’ve hit a crossroads in my life. I’m not exactly sure how or why, but I’ve come to question myself. Perhaps because I’ve invited too many people into my real life and its starting to collapse on itself. Before I went to college, I was such a loner, not to mention overweight. I had low self-esteem and the dude(s) I wanted didn’t want me back.

Fast forward to ten years later where not only am I over confident with an inflated sense of self, I have a body to match. I’ve been riding this wave for about five years where sex is just something I’ve added to my routine and relationships are a contrived behavior that neither I, nor anybody needs to participate in.

So I’m not really sure why I’m coming off feeling like I need to be with somebody. The cognitive dissonance that my mind and body is going through right now isn’t helping my already anxious self. I am actually willing to go as far as to blame society and related norms that include “settling down” and “marriage theory”.

Okay so anyway, given the unique nature of my personality, I’m one of the most rare finds in the human female species. I’m confident and independent. In turn, I’m aggressive because I know what I want, and will do what ever it takes to get it. I’ve lived by this mantra and it’s gone pretty well for me. I received my graduate degree in human sexuality. I have founded my own non-profit organization. I am financially independent, physically active, have a smoking physique, and I know how to take care of myself, and subsequently do. Did I mention I can cook?

You know, I always thought I was a great catch. I thought that given all the amazing qualities I just outlined above, I’d have to be very careful about the dudes I’m having casual sex with for fear they fall in love with me. On the contrary, given my aggressive nature, I’ve been hit up for countless sexual encounters, and the one guy I thought I could potentially have a real dinner with called me out. I don’t want to quote him exactly, but he indicated that my personality was great for sex, but not so much for a relationship.

It got me thinking about how men perceive the women they want to “be with”. I mean, evolutionarily, men are attracted to women who have a low waist to hip ratio to bear children (I’d get a point for that) and who have large breasts to nurse their many children (okay minus a point). When it comes to personalities, it is a little more complicated.

Women have been genetically evolved to be reliant on men since the dawn of time. So does it just make sense that men are more inclined to be attracted to a woman who is needy and dependent? Where does that leave the new-age woman who is a confident, independent, beater-wearing, aggressive-get-what-she-needs proverbial sugar mommy? Since I’m a firm believer in evolutionary theory, I’ve come to this crossroads that a guy can’t be seriously interested in me merely because I don’t “need him” and thus a complex has developed.

I know it sounds ridiculously obscene and nonsensical, but when it comes to instinctual evolutionary bullshit that I like to spew, we were meant to breed and genetically perpetuate. That being said, I don’t ever plan on giving in. I plan on staying confident and aggressive. I can take care of myself and anyone else who comes along, and if that means I can’t physically or emotionally “be with” someone, then so be it. I’ve been way to successful to ever see myself throwing anything away.

I’d like to dedicate this post to GB who I wanted to have a real dinner with in the past, but lost my chance. I bet I’ll make you happier than any girl that comes along, but I’m going to try and avoid being that girl. Good luck, GB.

Jab, Jab, Block.

I’m an asshole. I’m a hypocrite. I feel like jumping off a bridge. I quit sleeping with Pecs about two weeks ago when I realized I didn’t want to lose him to some nice girl he was eyeing. Thank god I’m rational enough to realize I had to end it before things progressed.

After the gushing and aw-ing of all my friends passed, I sat down and had some serious conversations regarding my state of mind. It’s all great and good that I’m able to stay reasonable and quit seeing this guy without being a psycho, but now what? He made it clear he isn’t interested in me, and frankly, I figured as much. I’m too much of a confident intimidating badass for him.

Whatever, I’m over it. But I think I’m in a different mindset. Sure, I still don’t agree with monogamy, but maybe there is something to having someone on call who you can not only have sex with, but perhaps a meaningful conversation thrown in between rounds.

I know. I am definitely not practicing what I preach, but I’m always one to break rules. I might have been that girl who just didn’t want to get her proverbial heart broken. I don’t ever want to be in a vulnerable state and subject myself to anything that will hurt. You see where I’m going with this? Relationships are like being in the ring. There’s always an adrenaline rush. Sometimes you have to take a break, but you let your guard down once, and you get knocked down. That’s how boxers are bred. We keep our arms up, elbows in. Defensive blocks are always in play, even when no punch is expected. We bob, we weave, and we avoid punches and clinches at any cost.

I’ve decided that I’m going to quit trying to play Black Ops. Why change my personality, when it’s gradually evolving on its own? I can have meaningful conversations with people who aren’t my best friends and family. Maybe I need to see what’s out there and “grow up” like everyone is telling me to. I’m not saying I want to settle down and have babies, but if a guy wants to wine and dine me, I might drop my elbows a little. You know, as stupid as it sounds, I’m going to dedicate this post to Pecs. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have realized I was being such an asshole.

There's a First Time for Everything

Lately, a lot of virgins have been reaching out to me about advice regarding their first time in bed. I’m actually pretty flattered that of all the resources out there, I’d be the one you’d ask. All joking aside, I’ve actually come to appreciate virgins. One of my best friends is a virgin. I mean, you couldn’t tell by looking at or talking to her, but she is, and she’s awesome.

In any event, what can I really say about my first time? It was in the middle of a snowstorm, and Christoph and I were just really horny and bored, so we just went for it. It was what it was. It didn’t hurt like everyone ingrains into us growing up. Maybe there is some truth in the whole working-out-breaks-the-hymen theory. And I didn’t see fireworks, confetti, or anything mind blowing like I do now.

Now first and foremost, ladies, please know your anatomy. I’ve spoken to dozens of females who simply do not know their own anatomy. Our tax dollars at use. Okay, enough blame on the public school system (or even private for that matter). I can’t stress enough that you know your anatomy. Furthermore, its more important than just knowing how many holes you have. Know your body. Understand what makes you tick. Go back to previous post “Finish Her” and take time to investigate yourself. In the end, losing your virginity doesn’t have anything to do with orgasms and you won’t have one anyway, but it’s always good to be prepared. Ladies, bring condoms. Dudes won’t remember, and you can’t expect them to. I’ll recommend the Trojan For Her Pleasures (they are in a purple box). The ones with any type of lubricant are good, but I prefer the spermicidal lubricant (all the better to prevent any future baby martinis running around).

I hate addressing virgin dudes simply because I don’t trust them. However, I will say this much to you. Fucking relax. You get in there and pull a bang bang, homegirl will throw you out, and if she doesn’t, I’ll get the bat signal and throw your ass out myself. Even a virgin girl doesn’t want a “premature” end to her first time. If you know you’re going to bust quick, jerk off a few times that day to ensure maximum performance. Also, contrary to most advice, I’d also recommend skipping the foreplay. That shit is played out anyway. Please also know the female anatomy and what hole you’ll be landing in, if you aren’t already schooled, stop reading this, and google it. Bring condoms, females usually don’t stock up. Trojan Ribbed are what I recommend (they are in a yellow box). Again, spermicidal lubricant is preferred. The reason I recommend this one over the Ultra Thins, is simply to delay gratification. If you think you can handle having sex and not finishing too fast, invest in the Trojan Ultra Thins (they are in a dark blue box).

I mean, I think the bottom line for all parties involved is don’t stress out. Stressing out will only make it worse. Also, if you’re so concerned about getting hurt, invest in a bottle of lubricant, but be careful with that because sometimes you can be allergic and not know it, and itching down there is a pain in the ass, well a pain in the something down there.

A lot of people save themselves for the right person. I wasn’t that chick. I just couldn’t find a dude who wanted to bed a big girl. It didn’t matter; I waited a year before I gave it up to Christoph, and I wasn’t impressed with him or the act. I mean obviously things have changed, but in the end, losing your virginity is really not that serious. I will say that you should take care in losing it. It’s something you can’t take back and you’ll want to remember it as a positive experience. Perhaps, you don’t have to lose it to the bum on the corner of 23rd and 1st, but maybe your best friend could help you out one day when you’re both bored in the middle of a snowstorm.

I can guarantee that if you wait for that special someone, you WILL regret it whether you admit it or not. So, go out, lose it, and report back. This one is dedicated to all the virgins.

Dick in Jane

Did you know that penis size is correlated to genetic viability? It’s true. Big penises fair well in the environment. Growing up, all I heard from people was “big dick” this and “big dick” that. “Bigger is better”, etc etc. I grew up thinking that a big penis would result in a successful pair bond (see: relationship). So, imagine my surprise when I saw my first penis (let’s forget about the fact that I was in college), and it wasn’t as big as I thought it would be and actually complained about it to my friends.

I don’t know why I did that. I wasn’t going to sleep with the dude. I just had this picture in my mind of having a big penis. I was so ingrained to think that a big penis meant I’d have better sex (when I decided 10 years later that I’d have sex).

My first time was with an average sized penis. He fit in me okay and the sex was good. Soon thereafter, I’ve had pretty average sizes with a small one thrown in every now and then. In fact, I just assumed that the average sizes I was being pelted with (no pun intended, okay, pun is intended) were in fact “big dicks”. Up until Enrique, I’ve never experienced a “big dick”.

So as you’ve read, I couldn’t take Enrique. It hurt, barely fit in me, and I never invited him back over again. So it got me thinking what the big hype was with size. I could barely take an average guy (I mean, I’m physically shallow, so that makes sense), but how deep could an average female be? I mean physically, we females are all able to expand to all kinds of crazy sizes, but let’s be serious, even a rubber band has a breaking point.

Okay, so my friend Dom has a big penis. He’s not afraid to admit it and has confessed to me that many girls aren’t able to take it. In fact, only one of the girls he’s been with is able to take it easily. Dom is very good-looking, successful, smart, and has a big penis, it just makes him even more genetically superior. Or so we think.

Moving forward, I want to stick with average guys or less. I’m sorry fellows, but I’m pushing 30. My pussy is in its prime and I can’t go breaking it with some huge ass dude who thinks he’s getting lucky with some hot female boxer who should be able to take it, but is hiding a shallow well.

So you got my opinion on big penises. And I’d love to hear yours. It will help me understand the theory behind why females love a big penis, because I’m more than certain that you females out there prefer a big penis. And keep in mind, a big penis, doesn’t mean average sized, so send me your sizes too. For the record, if I had to choose, I’d take a good 3-4 inches over a girthy 10 any day.

(Editor's note: Title is courtesy of PP).

Black Ops

So the best thing about me is that I cut the bullshit out. Whether it comes to friends, family, or relationships, I don’t ever play games. I give things at face value and can literally read a persons mind by what they are saying and how they are acting. You know what I love about these no frills marathon sex sessions? The fact that we cut the bullshit and both of us are here for one thing and one thing only. There is no need to analyze the situation and wonder whether he likes me or if I like him because who the hell cares. I’m getting off in the end.

It’s not a terrible thing that guys are ready to wine and dine me to get into my pants, but I’m seriously over that crap, and quite honestly, was never really into it. I’m way too independent for that shit, and there’s only one thing I need from a guy that I can't get on my own (I've broken two vibrators, it's cheaper to just find a guy).

Okay so, besides Pecs, I’ve met several dozen guys over the past few months (and for the record, contrary to popular belief, I keep one sexual partner at a time, so besides Pecs, I haven’t slept with any of them yet). I didn’t play any games to meet them and stuck with my obnoxious, no-filter, tomboy, sex-obsessed self. It has resulted in a pretty attractive pool of suitors whom I could call upon if I’m ever feeling restless and without a current suitor. I’m finding, however, that these guys have been programmed to offer a wine and dine prior to any fun in my bed. It’s like they want to pay me in advance for my sexual services.

You know, I could go into an angry tirade about how ALL sex is prostitution no matter how you slice it and how being a whore should be considered a respectable, and profitable, occupation, and that the stigma NEEDS to be dropped. But I won’t. Instead today, I want to talk about a social experiment I want to conduct.

Given my unique personality, I attract a certain type of guy. A sex positive, ready and willing, and able-bodied guy (who usually works out and has a body I can climb). Okay, so I want to switch things up. I want to see what would happen if I put myself out there as a relationship-hungry, marriage-searching, biological clock-ticking, 20-something semi-desperate female.

Here’s the plan. Starting tomorrow, guys I meet will hear a completely different story about who I am. I want to see how many guys will take me out on a date. If the guy is stupid enough to fall for my ploy, I’m going to see how many dates I get before he drops me for not giving it up. My theory is that the average number of dates I’ll be going on will be 2, and after the last date, I’ll hear from him only sporadically and finally I’ll cease to exist. Guys...no, people are an easy read.

I know it sounds cruel-hearted, and it is, and I don’t care. It’s an experiment, a covert operation. And after all, you all are used to playing games, right?

Marriage...and Other Stuff

It’s May. The inevitable season for weddings is upon us, and I’ve been swallowed whole like Jon Voight in Anaconda when he was gobbled up by that giant snake and then spit him out later in front of J-Lo covered in intestinal fluid and saliva. I actually really like that scene.

I can’t stand weddings. Not because I have to mingle with people I haven’t seen for several years who spend 5 of the 10 minutes you speak with them about how much weight you lost, who you’re seeing, and when you’re getting married. No, that’s not why I can’t stand them, well, I mean mostly.

My friends know better than to talk about wedding bullshit with me, but they’re all believers of the perfect union between two people spending the rest of their lives in holy matrimony with a pair of kids in tow.

The sacredness surrounding marriage, or “sanctity” if you will, is forced to say the least. I guess I should start from the beginning. Assumptions around ancient man indicate there was no such thing as marriage. In fact, men vied for several females, and females chose males based on resources and genetic viability. Evolutionary, women would cuckold their mate if a more suitable mate happened to swing by.

Fine. So why does marriage even exist. Who knows? I blame Plato (as I do with everything that has to do with sexual taboo). As I previously mentioned, marriage involves lifelong union and presumably offspring. A law binding two people together so there is never any parental uncertainty. Crap.

If you think marriage is the next step in this thing we call life, that’s up to you. But the truth is, as soon as we hit puberty, we were supposed to begin pro creating, but that’s frowned upon. In fact, we’ve made it a business to publicize this “freak show” of “underage” pregnancies (See: Teen Mom, etc).

I’m not sure where I was going with this. I started out this piece wanting to discuss why people got married. Instead, I’m talking about evolution and bad TV shows. I think what I want to say without going into too much science crap is that marriage is unnatural. I’ve expressed my distaste in monogamy, so I won’t go into a tirade against it, but we were built to perpetuate our genes for purposes of superiority. It just doesn’t make sense to settle with one person when at any given moment a more genetically viable mate could pass by. And I’m not condoning cheating mostly because I’m not condoning exclusivity.

That’s not to say I don’t support my friends who are getting married. Let the record show that I am serving as a bridesmaid for one of my very dear friends. I just think that if she wants to cheat on her husband, I won’t only cover for her; I’ll pay for the hotel room and Trojans.

(Note: I want to dedicate this post to Nikki who is getting married in two weeks and I really couldn't be more happy for her.)

Finish Her

Did you know that females are capable of two types of orgasms during a given sexual tryst? I polled my friends about this. Everyone seems to be aware of the notorious clitoral orgasm. You know the one I’m talking about. The one we first discovered when we were hiding in our bedrooms late at night, living at our parents house, wearing our little flower night gowns.

Now we’re grown up, and it’s still pretty much the only one we know about, and frankly, the only one our male counterparts are familiar with and (hopefully) work hard at getting us off with.

However there is in fact another orgasm , that we, as women, are capable of achieving: the powerful, elusive, and mysterious vaginal orgasm. I first learned about the VO when I was in college. A sex-crazed friend of mine sat me down one night and described the difference between a clitoral versus vaginal orgasm. This friend was a male and I couldn’t take him seriously. What did this “guy” know about orgasms? He finishes through an oversized clitoris known as a penis. I was a virgin till graduate school. I only knew one orgasm. I only studied one orgasm. I only had one type orgasm, but I was intrigued.

I looked into the theory of the “vaginal orgasm”, the so-called G-spot, like an internal release button that’s power is unknown until triggered. Our fathers of sex, Sigmund Freud and Charles Darwin explained the evolutionary and sexual theory behind the “vaginal orgasm”. The possibility of a stronger, destructive, stimulator, I was more than sold, I was pre-ordering.

So, I decided to go on an “archeological dig”. Not the worst phrase considering my means. After several, SEVERAL feeble attempts at triggering this impalpable orgasm, I was beginning to lose faith in my Freudian and Darwinian gods. I’ll admit, it took some time, but one day, while attempting once again, I felt something. A few twists and turns later, drenched in sweat and exhaustion I arrived at my destination.

I mean, I didn’t really know how it would feel, but the effect was mind blowing. If you can remember your first every clitoral orgasm, it’s something like that, but better, because you know what you’re actually doing and how it’s going to feel after.

I was more blown by the fact that it was true. There are two types of orgasms. Both are unique but equally pleasurable. So the next question I had was how could I harness the power of the orgasm to achieve it when I wanted to.

Easier said than done, orgasms aren’t alarm clocks. It took several weeks to find said orgasm again, but this time, I attempted to find the spot, and I did. Slowly but surely, I was able to manipulate the energy that was my internal orgasm.

Okay, enough about that. I decided that I would throw another wrench into the mix (again, not the worst phrase considering my means), and see if a guy could produce the same effect. What I found was pretty interesting. Depending on whom I was with (and how long he could last), I could manipulate my body so as to have him hit the right spot.

Okay, so, I had two orgasms under my belt. I had the elusive vaginal orgasm, and the ever-popular clitoral orgasm. What do I do with them? Well, have sex obviously. What I found was with each partner and each mind-blowing orgasm I was becoming increasingly insatiable. What was even more interesting was that not only could I produce my desired effect, I was beginning to achieve multiple orgasms in quick speed of light succession with a recharge rate of about 2 minutes (gasp!).

This isn’t a “vaginal orgasm” tutorial, mostly because we’re all wired differently and there really is no such thing as a G-spot. I will, however, say this much. A VO isn’t a nub at the top of our crotch (see clitoris). It’s not a spot. It’s a method. Furthermore, it’s not always the guys’ job to produce the VO. In fact, for all intents and purposes, it’s the female’s responsibility to determine a. whether she can achieve the vaginal orgasm, and b. “work it” so that she can get hers. Other than that, I can’t help you.

My belief is that any female is capable of the VO, but it’s an acquired and practiced phenomenon. So ladies, I dedicate this post to you. Take the time out of your busy, career-driven, sex-filled, gym-going schedules and “search within” yourself. I promise, it’s more than worth it.

Pandora's Box

This isn’t an erotic story blog so I’ll save you from the specifics of my “best I’ve ever had” marathon sex session with Pecs from this past weekend. Although I think with these sessions, I opened up a Pandora’s box of questions. After consulting with my inner circle full of genius romantics and fiend-ish assholes, I realized I was being a closed minded jerk. I bet you’re wondering how a female so open with her sexuality and sexual practices could be so blind to the possibility of even newer practices. Give me a break, there’s always something new to learn in any disciple, even if you happen to be a master at it.

I pride myself in leaving emotions go at the door. Now you’re thinking that I was emotionally hurt in my past and so I have a bias, either that or I’m a sociopath. Fortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to have my proverbial heart broken, nor am I fortunate to be born devoid of emotion. I also haven’t had the opportunity to be in “love”. Mostly because I don’t believe in love because evolutionary speaking, it doesn’t exist. Sorry to burst your bubble, but “love” is an evolved term and placeholder for attachment. I digress.

I’ve been partaking in these meaningless marathon sex sessions with a new young fellow in my life. Truth be told, it’s the most amazing sex I’ve had in my 7 years of sexual practice. So much so, it’s been leaving me in a euphoric haze for up to 5 days. Again, I digress.

It’s 2011 and females are as sexually active as ever. Short term mating is the wave of the future (if not the present), and the taboo around sex is quickly disintegrating (if not already). Meaningless sex for both parties involved, no emotion, no connection, just sex. Short term mating at its finest.

Traditional long-term mating involves dinner, drinks, and sometimes a movie. Sex comes in around date number three. “Copulation” has become a general practice in the search for a long-term mate. However, what I failed to realize (and thanks to my friend, Shari, for calling me out on this), is that short term mating has become a practice to find a long-term mate.

How does this relate to my marathon sex sessions and me? Let’s say that I’m a normal female. I’d be having sex with this guy to get my rocks off, leaving my emotions at the door, but wait; maybe this guy could be more than just a “live dildo”. Maybe, just maybe, he could be a potential long-term mate. So I scrutinize him. He’s a little short, but he is physically fit. He has a successful job, which in turn means stable income, which in TURN means resources. Okay, so a genetically viable mate, whom I’ve been short term mating with could be a potential long-term mate.

I can’t even type that with a straight face, but the question still remains, can you turn a short-term sexual relationship into a long-term more-than-just-sex relationship? After exploring the possibility that this could happen (because I’ve been so ingrained to think otherwise), I’ve come upon several theories behind the inner evolutionary workings of a short term to long term relationship, but I wanted to pose this question to the blog world. Can you turn a short-term mate into a long-term mate; can meaningless sex turn into a real relationship? Are there readers out there that have experienced this? If so, tell me about the experience, and how and why this happened. I’m curious to know the play by play. And for the record, I'm not looking for a long-term mate.

You’re Still Getting Laid

I spent about 10 minutes freaking out that Pecs and NF were the same person. I was disgustingly turned on by the fact that this was straight out of “You’ve Got Mail” – the sex version. We spent the next hour talking about the overlaps between “NF” and “Pecs” and what was true and what wasn’t.

Naturally, being blown out of the water meant none of my questions for NF were answered. To him, this was a game. To me, I felt like an idiot for falling for his mind games. I did my thesis on mind games. Some would even venture so far as to say I invented mind games. What the hell?

Still reeling from being mind fucked to another planet, we decided to walk around a little (translation: go back to my place). We went back to my place and enjoyed some of the 2-buck-chuck I stocked up on earlier that weekend and watched game 1s of the NBA finals (lets go CELTICS!).

We ended up in bed around 3pm. We got out of bed at 9:30pm. This dude, 5 foot 3 inches tall, uncut South East Asian, caramel skinned, impeccable pecs handled me 5 times in that time. And when I say he handled, I mean, he HANDLED. All positions, no holds bar, brief conversation breaks, videotaping, pictures, the whole nine. A perfect sexual rendez-vous for a lazy Sunday.

I’m not going to talk about how he screamed like a little bitch when my cat jumped on the bed or how we made plans to see each other next weekend when I’d rather just do him again tonight, tomorrow, and Wednesday.

Instead, I’d like to tread on the topic of “Friends With Benefits”. This is the worst term I’ve ever heard of. There is no such thing as a friend with benefits. If someone calls you a FWB, or suggests doing a FWB, throw caution to the wind. That person thinks it’s going to end up somewhere. It’s a prelude to “I can’t just be FWB with you anymore, I want to take this to the next level”.

Thus, I propose we bring a new phrase into our lingo, “Sex Friends”. These are friends that you have sex with and also hang out with. Mostly because you have too much in common to refrain from sleeping with each other. And why hold yourself back anyway?

I sent my new “sex friend”, NF/Pecs on his way back to Jersey like a good boy. I left a battle scar on his neck. I don’t care who he does before I see him again, but in the event that he does, the battle scar will indicate, “BM was here first!” And chances are, BM rides it better than you.

I’m nervous that he might fall in love with me, but then again, who doesn’t fall in love with me. Who knows, I might just give him a chance. Yeah right.

You've Got Laid

So about a month ago, I started following this guy on twitter (not Pecs). For the sake of this blog, let’s call him Nightfox or NF for short. NF is really private. So much so that people don’t even know who he is in real life. In fact, it was my own personal belief that he might actually be a she. This dude had some pretty funny things to say, some of my friends were following him, and so I thought what the hell. He has a decent following, so something must be interesting. I guess some of his tweets were funny. Well, funny enough for me to respond to, and of course he dug that, because before I knew it, we were g-chatting.

I liked the conversations I was having with NF. He reminded me of a 12-year old stuck in a 20-something body which consequently is the story of my life. I was intrigued, to say the least, that I was chatting with a faceless voice of the internet, being more than envious of his faithful following and badly wanting to meet the face behind the charisma, charm, and articulation that was his blog. I knew given the chance, I’d jump him. I knew right away he was interested, but NF played it cool. I knew that if he met me, I could have easily had my way with him, I’m more than convincing. The plan was to just have him meet me and see where it went. So we made plans to meet in the park for a coffee (okay at this point I thought the dude might be gay).

A week later, I started chit chatting with Pecs (who I befriended via NFs twitter page). Ironically, it turns out NF and Pecs are actually friends, which figures. They went to school together, they work out together, blah blah blah. So I thought to myself, fine, if NF wants to play his stupid mind games, what the hell, I’ll make plans to sleep with his hot friend, Pecs, who’s face I knew and pecs I wanted to know. Congratulate me.

I don’t think NF cared that I was sleeping with his friend, I mean he should because it’s me, but at least his buddy was getting some right? In any event, as per my last post, I made plans to meet Pecs for a down and dirty tryst. Coincidentally NF and I made plans to meet on the same day. I figured I could meet NF in the park, have conversations, and leave him hard in the park as I left to ride his friend, like a classic asshole.

All day, I was more nervous to meet NF than Pecs. Not only was he faceless, I was so taken with his writing that I couldn’t even focus on the questions I had planned on asking him if I ever met him. Yeah, it was that serious. And at this point, I was so nervous, I didn’t even want to sleep with him. I just wanted to meet him. I was mad at myself for not being able to calm the nervous energy in me. I’m that confident asshole who gets what she wants. Why I couldn’t relax, was beyond me.

I’m not an idiot. I made a plan to have my trainer and few boxing buddies meet me at the park to scope out the scene to make sure I was safe. NF could be a crazy berretta-wielding nutcase, right? I was smart about that. Found a seat on the south side of the park and listened to music to get me in the mood for my tryst with Pecs later. NF arrived early, and my heart was beating in my chest like a little bitch.

He was seated elsewhere in the park so I agreed to stroll around and locate him (in his black shirt, jeans, and “sexy shades” – his words, not mine). I threw on my natural sexy air of confidence and strolled to the east side of the park. I walked down the path, and looked to my left, and saw him. Black shirt, jeans, and sexy shades. It was NF, and it was Pecs. Pecs was NF. NF was Pecs.

Pecs

So I met this guy on twitter. Don't you love stories that start like that? Anyway, I met this guy on twitter and we've been sending each other PG-13 to rated R pictures back and forth for the past few days. He has a pretty amazing body including pecs that I want nothing more to do with than to climb.

As you probably know, I'm very open with my sexuality and sexual practices. That being said, please see conversation below between Pecs and I:

P: You seem like a fun girl.
Me: aw, you're just saying that because you want a massage. i give that for free, no need to suck up. but in all seriousness, i am fun.
Me: you seem like a fun dude.
P: Yeah I can tell. So lets get to the point, what are you looking for?
Me: sex. you?
P: Pretty much the same, as long as it doesn't come with any drama.
Me: don't know the definition of the word. ask my references (available upon request). < insert my number here >. let me know if you have a bb.

Shortly after this exchange, I received a message from Pecs and we proceeded to make plans to meet each other approximately a week after we started corresponding, a straight-forward, no frills, sex date.

I'll be sure to post about the encounter shortly following, but I ask my readers out there to tell me if you've ever made such an appointment in your books. A down and dirty play date. I won't judge you if his/her pecs were impeccable.

Broken Dance

So last night, I invited the age old disgustingly chiseled break dancer (as I remembered him) over for a drink (translation: sex). He was on the first day of a 9-day detox fast where he drinks water, shakes, and forgoes caffeine and alcohol. So I offered him water. I digress.

He's actually very good looking. A little smaller than I remembered him, and clothes less obnoxious, but I didn't hold it against him (I mean, later I did when I was describing him to my friends, but I didn't at the moment). We caught up on the recent events he was managing at SXSW, and decided that neither of us really cared, so we cut to the chase.

I remember him being 5 times in one night, sleeping in, going in late to work kind of stuff. So imagine my surprise when the rare "in and out, in and out, bang bang" reared it's ugly head. He was finished in 2, I needed another 20.

I mean, I get it. He hasn't gotten any in awhile (that's what happens when you lose 20lbs, buddy), he's on day 1 of his stupid fast, he's been stressed at work, blah blah blah, but you're not even 30 yet. I'll leave him on tap for one more ride, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, but in my world, 2nd strike, and you're out.

I let him finish me off, it was the least I could offer.

Ow Papi

20 days later, I sleep with him.

Initial thoughts? None because it put me to sleep - in a good way.

Secondary thoughts? Ow.

I was actually one of those people who thought the bigger, the better, so bring it. Little did I know the trouble that it would get me into. Enrique came over and after a a formality of watching a movie (Up in the Air, which I recommend), I was a only slightly taken aback when I saw him, and furthermore thought it would work out. And after a much needed, great nights sleep, I woke up sore with a dull achy pain.

The term bittersweet was never used better.

I don't want to get any more explicit, because I'd rather keep this blog about my sexual exploits as appropriate as possible (does that even make sense?), but I open this up to the blogsphere and ask, has it ever been so big, it hurt? And if so, did you try it again?

Ay Papi

I went to my new favorite salsa bar a few weeks ago hoping to see “Guitar Hero”, the guitarist of the band playing the week before, who currently had in his possession my lust. A different band was playing, so I thought to make the most of it and met Enrique. He was cute enough and an excellent dancer so I gave him my number. He said he’d give me a call, and without fail, I received a text within 24 hours (for future reference, I would have preferred a phone call, but its fine). We made plans to meet later in the week for a drink.

He had me meet him in the East Village at this darling tapas place. I got there a few minutes early, sat down, and ordered white wine sangria (which is my current drink of choice). He arrived a few minutes later and we proceeded to sit down for some tapas and get to know each other.

I learned that Enrique had come to America 10 years ago from Puerto Rico. Has an MBA in Finance and lives in a quaint apartment in the lower east side. He was married once, no kids, and is very close with his family. I was nearly enamored.

We went salsa dancing shortly thereafter and had a great time. Unfortunately, I had to leave for an early engagement the next day, but we made plans to see each other the following night.

After drowning in a bottle of white wine at a friend’s place, we ventured over to the new favorite salsa bar that coincidentally was a block away. We ended up spending the entire night drinking sangria and dancing with anyone who could spin us around. Enrique showed up a little later and we all continued to have a great time, drinking, dancing until god knows when.

I didn’t take Enrique home with me, though he clearly had intentions to go with me. I’ll admit, there was a part of me that wanted to take him home, but I was inebriated, tired from dancing, and just not in the mood to be wooed.

Fast forward to a few days later when I receive a text from Enrique:

E: I thought we had an ‘understanding’
Me: what do you mean?
E: For us to have each other
Me: Do you mean sleep together?
E: I must have misunderstood, I apologize!!!!
Me: I am not ready
E: Good night.

My plan was simple, to sleep with this guy till I got bored with him and drop him. Apparently, his plan was simple too, to assume I was fast and sleep with me the first chance he got. I guess I shouldn’t be angry that he thought I was fast, as that is usually my plan of action, but seriously, what the hell.

It’s a little presumptuous to assume that a girl will sleep with you at any point of a courting, especially within the week of meeting. (And because I believe in double standards, I don’t believe it’s presumptuous for a girl to assume a guy will sleep with her at any point of courting). There are a number of reasons why he may have assumed I would sleep with him, but I won’t give him the benefit of the doubt. Sleeping with me is a privilege and should be treated as such. There isn’t an “understanding”. There’s a “BM has chosen you”. Needless to say, I will not be seeing Enrique again. I mean, unless I get really horny.

"Sex is Something I Really Don't Understand Too Hot"

"Sex is something I really don't understand too hot. You never know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around with girls that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it, though, the same week I made it - the same night, as a matter of fact." ~Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye

Depth of Emotion

My best friend, Shari, has bestowed upon her boyfriend a sort of ultimatum to express some “depth of emotion” by the end of summer. I can appreciate that Shari can tell me this because she knows I won’t judge her for doing it, and I won’t because she deserves someone to love her the way she wants and deserves. But in any event, I find the need to comment on this because it’s not my style and thereby needs commenting.

Now if you know me, you know that I follow the “Steven Platek” school of love in which you learn that love is an institution and marriage is an un-evolutionary ploy in which you are inherently denying yourself superior mates. Therefore, I will translate love into “feelings of attachment” or “feelings” for short.

It’s not only difficult but damn near impossible to a. Find someone you are compatible with b. Remain with said person (faithfully) for an extended period of time and then c. Have said person return this feeling (that is contrived in the first place).

I am convinced that Shari’s boyfriend wants to be with her, and while she is attempting to grasp at flyaway feelings with ultimatums and deadlines, I fear that it will inevitably result in a resentment involving both parties. She will resent him for having to force feelings and he will resent her for having been forced.

If all goes well, they’ll express their feelings at the right time in which both are comfortable with. I have faith in her because she deserves it and I have faith in him because he’s a good person. The bottom line is, neither should take life too seriously or too lightly. These two are different from one another, but don’t opposite attract? Having one with the other is what makes a relationship flourish.

Good luck Shari, this one’s for you.

Last Night

After seeing him last night, I have decided against two separate bedrooms.

It's funny how just one night can change your entire outlook, and it felt unbelievably nice to feel my body go light after so long.

I'm also very happy to say that I think my "obsession" with Rick has faded with help from those topped off Smirnoff juices from last night. Okay, the drinking had nothing to do with me changing my mind, but it certainly didn't hurt. Plus, I wanted to celebrate with my boys...including Toby.

Just being near him was enough for me to feel "better". Just looking at him made me smile, and not that bullshit i-want-to-do-you smile, but one of those genuine, you-make-me-light-up smiles. And while the lust was there (and always will be in some sense), it wasn't overpowering

I think I just want to express how happy I felt last night, and I don't want that feeling to go away, and quite honestly, I haven't been this happy since...well...since the last time he was here.

Thanks, Toby. Maybe I'm not being facetious when I say that a piece of me leaves when you're gone. I'm still waiting for you to come home.

Who Do You Think We'll End Up With?

I’ll end up living with Toby in a 2-bedroom apartment. He’ll have one room and I’ll have the other. I won’t ever go to his room, but he’ll frequent mine for sex (note to Toby: you should have never slept with me that morning, now I hold all the power, and my ego is not only inflated but beyond repair). We’ll foster kids and most likely adopt. We’ll be the ultimate power couple, except not married and people will just think we’re together, but we’re just living and sleeping together.

Toby and I will be doing one of two things. We’ll both be social service icons serving the likes of the under privileged and under served or he’ll be a big shot engineer and I’ll be doing entertainment PR. Our 2-bedroom apartment is one that I bought in Chelsea. He’ll move in after his MBA. We’ll have sick New Year’s Eve parties with all our friends invited. My friends’ kids aren’t allowed at my house. Toby may not mind, but it’s my house. We’ll never leave NYC because our jobs wouldn’t allow us to and Boston sucks.

We’ll always have oranges in our kitchen, and I’ll always make sure the apartment smells girly before I head out in the morning. Be careful when you come over though, we’ll probably have sex on the island in the kitchen, and I hate scrubbing down. He might though, remember he’s still friends with Wayne (who is a cleaning freak).

We won’t have any pets because I only like cats and he’s allergic, although, come to think of it, he has one now, so maybe Scandal will live with us. He’ll have a car that I’ll despise because I take the subway everywhere, unless I’m in entertainment in which case I’ll take a cab. When we go out, I’ll show him off like a trophy husband, but only my closest friends will know that we sleep in separate bedrooms.

Fantasy Bites

The other night, I was pleasuring myself and was going to turn my thoughts over to my current obsession (see last post). Then I realized fantasizing is for quitters. I’ve done this a million and a half times; dreaming and painting this beautiful picture on a canvas that is my mind. And when the paintbrush thoughts are put away on their shelves, I sit back and admire my picture. It needs to stop.

A picture is a picture is a picture. Nine times out of ten, fantasies don’t come true. Okay, I made that up, but think about it. When was the last time one of your fantasies came true?

I realized that I could keep how I feel locked up inside and dream about the boy I want in my bed. I could secretly wish for those Christian Audigier shoes (they are hot though). I could yearn for the chance to pursue something creatively stimulating in a cutthroat field, a cutthroat world, a cutthroat life.

Average life span is around 80 some odd years. Why dream about what I want as opposed to going out and getting it. I refuse to wait till the next lifetime to get what I want out of this lifetime. Maybe it’s living in New York that’s giving me this “take what you want” attitude, but it’s all clear. Life is too short to dilly dally and dream. Dying is easy; living is hard. Forget the skeletons in your closet and show off your live bodies. Are those last two lines morbid? My bad.

Common - I Want You

I don’t think I’ve been hit this hard in a really long time (and I just sat here reflecting for five minutes to see when the last time was). That’s not to say that I haven’t been hit this way before, I’m sure I have. It’s just been awhile.

His name is Rick, and don’t pretend like you didn’t know this story was going to be about a boy. He is currently (soon to be recent history) the single most object of my affection and the most charming man I’ve ever met. I won’t get into logistics on how we know each other, but I know him well enough to know that he is my Mother Theresa counterpart.

It was two years ago when we first met. It wasn’t anything out of a fairy tale, just another guy at the center. Of course I thought he was cute, but I was flaky and didn’t pursue. Besides, what would I say to him? My confidence hadn’t peaked till last year and I only saw him in passing. Fast forward to now.

It must have been the serious lack of rejection in my recent history that led me to the sea of disappoint that I’m wading in. Despite all my friends telling me that he didn’t really reject me (“unfortunately” he has a girlfriend). I pretend to read into the “unfortunately”, that maybe I have a chance, but lucky for me I’m smart enough to know better.

I find the need to express the way I feel about him here in hopes that the gods of the Internet will bring us together. He’s the one I’d go straight for. Nix the ring in my nose, the scarf on my head, the fingerless gloves. Delete all the celebrities and pretty boys from my life and let my hair grow long. Move out to east Harlem and let him make me his Maria. I’d be his ride or die chick. Yeah, it’s that serious.

Why are all the cute boys in Brooklyn?

…and I’m not trying to be facetious. They really are. They’re the ones who thrive off of their creative mindsets and don’t let the temptation of green drown their passion. More often than not, you can find these boys making pretty pennies off their talent. I should know.

Today, I won’t go into the complexities that is Lucifer. Just know that this half Ecuadorian, half Peruvian boy’s daily regimen of Capoeira carved his body into that of some kind of Greek phenomenon. Just trust me on this.

The tuba player is another Brooklyn gem. Once, I was going to meet a girlfriend for tea. It must have been sometime in the spring. He came up to me and flat out asked to “chill”. Usually, this is a big turn off for me, but for some reason, I gave him my number and we “chilled” (get your mind out the gutter, I didn’t sleep with him…yet). He’s known as “the tuba player” because he plays in a well-known street band across the city. And let me tell you, he blows it pretty well.

The last young fellow I want to talk about (and certainly not the least) is the b-boy. Obviously he’s the break-dancer in my life. Is that all I really need to say about him? He’s fun, kitschy, sexy, and did I mention he’s a break-dancer? Although, you should know, that they don’t call it “break-dancing”, its actually referred to as “breaking”. And that is the new thing that you, my friend, learned today. Back to the story at hand, b-boy and I had a lot of fun. We used to come home in the middle of the night and make out in random little doorways in the Upper East Side. It was my personal wish that someone would walk in on us. That’s just the exhibitionist in me. He gets the most airtime because he and I had the most in common. He’s the only one I would have ever considered a long-term stint with.

But why Brooklyn? While Brooklyn isn’t a terrible place to live, it makes me wonder why these not-so-butter faces end up congregating within blocks of each other (meanwhile, I’m in fear of bumping into past partners during my walk of shame). Individualistic minds tend to migrate and huddle together in the depths of contrast (see: Rent). Strange as they are attempting to swim up-stream, yet displaying huge bits of hypocrisy for clinging to like-minds. Though, genius if you ask me. All I'm saying is that if my friends want to drag me out to Coney Island again, sign me up.