Undercover Hos

I struggle to make sense of people who can’t own up to their inner slut, like those girls who will sleep with anything and everything or those guys you know get so much fucking play because their hot as a mother fuck (like MBB from college, who coincidentally is now engaged!).  But they don’t own it.  It’s a secret, and you know damn well we talk about them behind their backs in hushed voices, while I’m silently shunning them from the “Getting Yours” brotherhood (see me for details and initiation package).

I knew this girl in high school who would sleep around with everyone.  She wouldn’t own it, but I don’t think she cared what people thought about her.  Either that or she didn’t know what people thought.   Looking back, I realize that I may have judged her.  But I’m basically living her life right now and fully respect her choices and the fun she must have had. 

Then I knew this girl in college who penetrated (best word EVER!) our friend circle and tried to sleep with everyone in it (including Christoph), only one of which bit, who later was more than heart broken.  I actually used to like her, even respected her for her boldness, up until she did that. 

Sure, I slept with Toby and Christoph, who were both at one point friends or cool or whatever college guys are with one another, but I never thought about the ramifications about it until recently.  Until I started pushing 30 and realizing that my insecurities from then would NOT fly in this day and age.

So, I’ve had sex with plenty of my friends.  In fact, many of the guys I’m friends with now are guys I’ve slept with in the past.  (It’s kind of like how I initiate you into my friend circle.)  In any event, I didn't think I'd see most of these guys after I banged them.  It was kind of like a hit it, leave it, over it kind of deal, but lucky for me, I got a friendship out of it (I mean, mostly because I’m awesome, but who knows).

Leaving college has kind of changed my mentality, because at this point in time, I have several friends that I’ve yet to sleep with and frankly don’t really want to.  I suspect the sex would be great, and my friendship wouldn't be ruined or anything, but I just prefer not to compare them to some meaningless sex I have outside of the circle and I’m just secure enough with myself to make and keep a friendship without the hit it quit it clause. 

Does that make sense?  What I’m trying to get at is that we’re at a point in our life where you can’t get away with the shit you used to.  Go ahead and sleep with the person you meet in the lounge at the Coffeeshop on Saturday, but don’t try and sleep with the friend you grew up with or try to sleep with a friend circle or anything of the like.  It’s bad practice, and frankly a clear sign of insecurities. 

Trying to find the one girl or guy who will fall for your bullshit just so you can get what you want out of the situation.  Get the fuck out of here.  No one appreciates that shit.  Get over yourself, your insecurities, your low self-esteem, and get a new hobby.  We’re almost 30 and everyone can pick up on your bullshit.

I spoke with several colleagues about this subject.  People are certainly judgmental of people who are out to get theirs (present company included).  Sleeping around is not exactly rewarded, but sleeping around in a circle of friends, and further not owning up to it, is just plain bullshit.   

Just own up to the fact you are trying to get yours and the dudes will come flocking.  Trying to be an undercover slut will just give you the reputation you aren’t trying to have.  Don’t be that person.  Look amongst yourselves.  I wouldn’t write about this if I didn’t see it.  Although, you probably don’t read this, so it will be lost on you. 

Dedicated to my two non @ buddies.  You know who you are (clichéd, I know, but whatever).    Also dedicated to Toby who was a “down low ho” in college, we all knew, and talked about it all the time ;). 

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You are NOT a loser. 

Single and Scared

Here’s the problem.  The weather is getting warmer, and girls are breaking up with their winter boyfriends, and single guys are running wild and free just aching to get into my bedroom.  The problem is that I have taken a vow of celibacy until further notice so I’m trying to avoid any temptation.  Not that I see any since no one seems to be capturing my interest lately.

So, let’s talk about relationships and how more often than not, like these cold weather hook-ups, they don’t last.  These days, divorce rates are around 50% and the more I talk to people in my age group, the higher the fear of commitment.  More recently, I’ve been talking to several people, both male and female, who are recently single, separated, or divorced.  And the fear of going back out there is highly prevalent.

Not to mention, my 30-something friends who are still single simply because they don’t want to end up single, separated, or divorced.  It’s sad but at the same time, it’s understandable.  The one thing I can’t stand is the stigma associated with having an ex.  Sure it’s kind of crazy and baggage-y when a partner brings up the ex-files, but is it really that big a deal.  So, s/he was in a relationship, and so it didn’t work.  What the hell does that have to do with you?  Not a goddamn thing.  And you have to keep telling yourself that anytime you wonder about his/her past life, because it has nothing to do with you. 

Those of you who have had relationships that have ended, whether you were dating or married, there is nothing wrong with putting yourself out there again.  It might take awhile, sure, but don’t judge every future relationship based on the one that didn’t work.  They are out there.  Don’t just shut the idea out.  Whether you want to believe or not, emotions are harder than you think to control. 

And what’s wrong with a guy or a girl who was in a long-term relationship and left because they realize it wasn’t going to work?  I must say I respect these brave souls the most.  Not only did they take the risk of exclusivity, but also they were mature enough and strong enough to get out of a shitty situation.  How can you not be attracted to something like that? 

With that being said, I’m feeling a lot better about keeping my own mind open about the possibility that I might have found someone who I can relate to.  I’m definitely having an internal struggle dealing with a new kind of emotion that I’m feeling on top of my daily bouts of anxiety and panic attacks.  I’m not scared of it. 

Riddled with grammar mistakes, rambling dialogues, and sporadic curses, this one is dedicated to you.  I’d say, “you know who you are”, but that sounds stupid and clichéd.  So instead, I’ll say, I know who you are. 

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To live with or without?

A ControverSHIL Confession

The last time I was in a relationship was with Christoph, seven years ago.  He was the average guy next door that many wouldn’t even look twice at.  I made that mistake when I first met him thinking that lunch outings would be harmless.  The more we went out, the bigger the knots in my stomach grew.  That’s when I knew I wasn’t just a sexpot vixen trying to have my next big orgasm; I actually had the ability to become emotionally connected with someone.  

The thought is mind blowing right?  I realize that emotional connections are normal for most, but not something I’m used to since I only ever play off the physical attraction I have with someone.  But I’m not devoid of emotions, and in fact, I think I’m actually insatiable.  And instead of being only halfway satisfied emotionally, I tread on being 100% satisfied physically to avoid the danger of someone coming up short and focus my emotions on other shit (See:  boxing, dancing, volunteering, mindless sex).

Since Christoph and I broke up, that weird stomach knot anxiety hasn’t hit me often.  Sometimes I’d think about Toby and it would slightly hit.  Or a tad with Rick two years ago, where I actually stalked him to drop off a Valentine’s Day card, on Valentine’s Day (Actual poem I wrote in the card:  “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Let’s get a Drink, So I can get to Know You”, complete with phone number). 

But what happens if the emotional connections are inevitable?  I slept with this guy last spring that I thought I was getting emotionally connected to.  In the end, I suspect I was wrong, but he didn’t share the sentiment so we went our separate ways (and to clear my mind of the bullshit, I went on a full on fuck fest that summer, good times).

For me emotional attraction is dangerous because it’s like heroin.  Don’t do it, and no one gets hurt.  Because just like heroin, if you do it the after effects are sick.  I’d end up doing two a days with my therapist. 

I was never good at expressing myself emotionally.  I’m always upfront if I think you are attractive, being an asshole, if your tits are out, etc.  But I have a hard time telling a guy that he genuinely makes me laugh.  That I enjoy his company.  That I ultimately want to spend more time with him.  That I am willing to go straight for him.  That I don’t want to sleep with him right away.  That he gives me weird knots in my stomach. 

…that it’s been seven years since I’ve felt this way.

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Some things are better left to Pavlov. 

Porn Plug

One of my best friends went out with this douchebag who told her told her wanted to have an open relationship and then proceeded to ask her if he could meet her friends.  I feel like you can get away of that shit if you are hot (which still isn’t acceptable), but this dude couldn’t even get a cute from me. 

Open relationships are great.  I think that’s the way all couples should function.  It’s the safest way to commit (does that make sense).  But frankly, if you are going to have an open relationship with me; you better know that it won’t be with my friends (unless you have been deemed community property which is another post I won’t go into tonight).

I could launch into a tirade about how this douche is pretty low on the evolutionary ladder and how his dick is half the size of my thumb.  Instead, let’s talk about porn.  I’m not going to go into the history of porn (which if you are really interested in, HBO provides a great overview in their Real Sex series).  I think what most are wondering is whether it is appropriate or not.

The truth is that it is.  Single, engaged, or married, watching someone else have a sexual tryst is not just exciting; it’s kind of a societal taboo.  Again, I could launch into how this is bullshit, but we’re not talking about that.

I especially hate when females get angry because their significant other or even some random dude watches porn.  It’s a fucking hobby.  It’s like getting angry for watching some cheese TV show like Psych (which by the way is the best show ever).  I know some of it has to do with jealousy and insecurity, but most of it has to do with the societal taboo and acts associated with watching it. 

I know plenty of guys and girls who watch porn.  Some watch it to get off, most just for the mere allure of watching someone else get off.  Others to get ideas.  A small percentage watch for the art of it.  I watch for all.

Males who watch are not physically cheating on their mates, nor are they emotionally cheating on them.  It’s fiction and fun.  It’s natural sex (okay the stuff with the anal beads are a little unnatural, but still).  I want to open this up to the females who have an innate, unfounded hatred of porn.  What’s the big deal? 

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Stop smothering her, bro. 

Nooner with Nooner

The drought is officially over.  Nooner and I were able to have a real life nooner for a change (the fact that it was at 2pm the day after Valentine’s Day doesn’t really mean anything to me).  I mean I don’t have to tell you that the sex was amazing despite my premature ejaculation (what? It was a long 3 months).  This time I knocked his socks off (only he would get that joke).

It took awhile before he made the move (with an extra heavy episode of SVU playing in the background), but eventually he made a move, trying to convince me that since it was my place, I had to make the move, bro, please, I have enough to worry about.  I wore a cute Miu Miu bra and panty set, not that he noticed, but just goes to show you that lingerie does NOT go a long way. 

I like Nooner because we both have psycho schedules so meeting at noon isn’t out of the ordinary, and in fact preferred.  When physical chemistry is this good, however, I try to see if I can push the envelope, and during our post-coital chitchat, I offered up the idea of going on an actual date (which to me, includes dinner, drinks, and sex).  I find myself doing this whenever I meet someone I have a great physical connection with.  

That being said, I’m kind of surprised that I was even able to get it up for him.  Lately, it’s a session or two and I’m over you, but maybe it’s because I don’t see him that often, and he isn’t trying to be cutsie with me that lets it work for me.  It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot and left me with my legs quivering. 

Nooner is a good guy.  I keep pushing him to find himself a good girl simply because a good guy like him should be with a decent girl.  I also like Nooner because he’s not intimidated by me, and there are few dudes out there that are like that.  I’m sure he’s not perfect, but at this time, a dude like him is all I need.

In any event, if any of you ladies out there are looking for a good guy, I know one.  This one is dedicated to Nooner, who fully satisfied me, without his socks, for Valentine’s Day. 

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She's not too hot about his female friends.

The Other First - **Guest Blogger**

**a piece submitted to @controvershiL, enjoy**

It was 3 in the morning on a humid, summer night. I was sitting in a yellow cab across from this gorgeous, confident black woman with a glowing face, wearing a gold sequined dress revealing her long thin and playful legs, no purse, no past. She leaned toward me and threw her left leg across my lap. She was wearing matching flats. She spoke in a casual voice as if we were chatting it up in a café.

“You seem nervous. Have you been with another woman before?”

My first thought.

‘How the hell did I get here? I must be the luckiest bi-curious girl on earth, because I just landed the hottest girl in the bar.’

Earlier that night, I was hanging out with my surfing buddies when one of them, a dude who I was chasing, tried to branch out and hit on this girl at the bar. From out of nothing, I grew this confidence, and drew from my lips the most badass lines that made her abandon her drink and follow me home. Of course I don’t remember any of it.

Now back in the cab, the sobriety found it’s way back quickly, stripping me of all certainty of anything. Yeah, I’m nervous, but I couldn’t lose my chance of embracing her slip away by being my babbling self.

“Yeah I have, I just don’t believe in PDA.”

Back at my apartment, she retreated to the bathroom and came out naked asking for a towel. I handed her one, but not before squeezing her breasts first. They were much firmer than mine. She showered and I grew bored and tired. It was fucking 3 in the morning. Every few minutes, I took a piece of clothing off while reading a magazine and by the time I was in my panties, she finally emerged.

We lay naked for a while, talking, and I realized her stories contradicted the ones from before. I threw myself on top of her and we made out for a while. Her kisses were slow and in rhythm with mine, something every guy I had been with needed training to accomplish. I reached down to prepare my self-proclaimed signature finger-fucking moves, and she stopped me.

She took charge and rotated us until she was on top and her tongue went straight to my clit. Shaking, jittering, quivering in complete pleasurable agony, I felt the obligation to hold her free hand when I remembered, to let her know that I acknowledged her being responsible for my euphoric state, which she couldn’t possibly have shared. We weren’t fucking each other, together. When there’s oral involved, there’s sacrifice, and the unspoken promise that the eaten will soon eat. We kissed some more, and I knew it was time for me to give her the mind-blowing time I think I promised her at the bar. My trigger fingers reached down, and I was preparing to motion her to come here like a speed-laden metronome until she did.

“No penetration.” She corrected me by pushing my hand away. What? I was shocked by this revealed truth that all girls were different—that the move that gets me to the moon in seconds is shunned away by someone else.

So I went down and tried not to let her know that I had never seen a black pussy before. There was no pink plushy insides—just a monochromatic throbbing, oozy black pussy ready to release…I engorged myself in her world, starting slow, finding my footing until I clicked in and sought patterns within patterns as the metronome ticked faster. She breathed heavier and let out a moan. A fucking fake moan. Of course I recognized it. I’ve done it so many times with the guys I’ve dated. It was the primary reason I decided to start hitting on girls.

“That was…great.” Fucking liar. She threw her head back on the couch and in a moment’s time, she was out cold. I retreated to my bedroom, and the next thing I knew, I was awoken by a stir in the living room. I cracked the door open enough to see a pair of feet stumble out the door when it shut.

Still half asleep, I texted my friend, “dude, I brought a girl home last night. I told you I was bi. You owe me dinner.”

Late into the next morning, I woke up again. Did this really happen? Was I dreaming? I walked into the living room. A pair of gold-sequined flats, size 11, had been left behind. The girl, who arrived in almost nothing had left barefoot en route to Brooklyn.

The beginning.

Rubbing One Out - Lesson 1

I’m not like Samantha in that episode of Sex and the City where she is the Queen Bee of masturbating, but goddamn am I the Queen Bee of masturbating.   I’m actually surprised that I haven’t written about this topic and then this week someone asked me about jerking off and vibrators and I wanted to point them to my blog post and there was none (shocker!).  So instead of ranting and raving about the uselessness of virgins, I’m going to write about masturbation. 

I’m not above touching myself to get off.  And I hate when people call it “touching yourself”.  I’m not so much touching as I am rubbing.  Clit stimulation is easy, but you don’t want to rub one out in five minutes (I mean unless you got somewhere to be in which case, I completely understand).  Remember that there are two ways of getting off, clitorally and vaginally, so get your life together before you dive into attempting to get yourself off on either one.

Needless to say, you can’t just jump in if you aren’t in the mood, so make sure you go in there stress free and horny.  The easiest route to go is clitorally.  Right, so depending on how much time you have, there are a number of ways to do this.  Vibrators are the obvious choice, but since some of you aren’t as blessed as me, I’m going to offer some tips on how to do this.  First, figure out how much time you have.  If you have the afternoon, you are luckier than me, so set yourself up.  Have a glass of wine and don’t just go for the win. 

There is an area above the clitoris known as the clitoral hood.  If you place a finger there and offer varying degrees of pressure, which allows you to increase or decrease the amount of time you have.  Plus this keeps your pussy clean because I know damn well you didn’t clean your hands.  If you don’t have a lot of time and I suspect plenty of you are urbanites that don’t.  Just go straight for the gold.  Figure eights are your best bet with medium pressure.  You do it right; you’ll get off within five minutes.  

Hitting your g-spot is something I can’t offer any advice for you on.  This is simply because you have to find it yourself.  Fingering your self is a better method to find your g-spot than using a vibrator, but either way, you’ll need time to find it and it won’t just happen over night (nothing like a clitoral stimulation).  Speaking of vibrators….

So if you know me, I’m not pro vibrator.  I always used to say that there was no point in getting off if there isn’t anyone in your bed helping you.  But, then I broke up with my boyfriend and found that it’s not always possible to have a dude in your bedroom at all times (and trust me, kidnapping them has only worked so many times).  So I stepped into the world of sex toys for the first time at age 24, right in the heartland of all things show stopping, New York City.

I bought my first vibrator at a shitty sex shop on Saint Marks street with my friends Wayne and Toby.  Wayne wanted to get something for his then girlfriend, and I was just there for the ride.  On second thought however, I was in the middle of a drought and ended up buying the same vibrator Wayne bought.  Looking back, I was such a fucking amateur.  That was the shittiest vibrator ever.  Sure it was cheap, but it was a clit stimulator and they literally can only go so far. 

It broke within two weeks.  Thankfully, by then, I’d started a steady stream of sex worthy dudes in my life so the incentive to get a new one was pretty low.  I managed to find myself in the Lower East side one afternoon and decided to browse the famed sex toyshop, Babeland.  They offer a wide array of vibrators, from clit stimulators, to dildos, to life like dicks ripe for the riding. 

I first purchased a Lelo Lily for a friend of mine.  I thought she would appreciate it, because you could just put it on your clit, literally lie back, and do something else (read a book, watch TV).  It’s the lazy person’s vibrator, and highly recommended if all you want is a clit stimulator.  I purchased for myself a Lelo Ina, which I like because it’s a G-spot stimulator, but it also has a dual clit stimulator, which by god, is genius!  You can’t go wrong with Lelo.  They’re the Chanel of the vibrator world.  I also own a Hitachi.  I think every woman needs to own a Hitachi.  They are durable and classic.  And you can use it as a legitimate massager as well (just clean that shit before you do it). 

Hey, don’t take my advice.  Plenty of women get off in their own methods that work better than mine.  We’re all created a little different so my figure eights might not work for you (try figure nines, those shits are crazy!).  So, ladies, leave some of your own methods and favorite sex toys, would love to get some idea of what my readers are into.  Plus, I want to experiment with a few other methods, so I'll be sure to report back.

This one is dedicated to my sister.  Happy Birthday, baby!

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Living situations in a relationship. 

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I'm sure you know my preach.

The Legality of Philias

One of the coolest things I’m known for is the ability to diagnose my friends.  Everyone will pile into my tiny Manhattan apartment for my famous drinks and dessert party, we shoot the shit and before you know it, my DSM is out and I’m pointing out the histrionic, the bipolar, or the psychopath in the group (all of which are me).  The DSM is by far one of my favorite books.  Sure its more a text book than anything else, but if you’ve ever cracked one open, you might as well be reading a set of short stories about random disorders that you never even knew existed.

The other day, I was watching my Law & Order:  Special Victims Unit (favorite show ever), and it was the episode where Stabler finds out his daughter’s picture is on a pedophile website and he flips his shit.  Naturally, I pulled out my DSM to look up the disorder known as Pedophilia.  I flipped through other deviant behavior getting to the page (fetishism, sadism, etc) detailing the behavior.

I mean, the real reason I looked it up was because the extreme stigma attached to the disorder.  Most, if not all people regard this as one of the most disdainful behaviors in the world.  But of course, being as impartial as I possibly could, I started to think about these people. 

I can’t judge them the way that I am.  There is a reason that Pedophilia (and all philias) is listed in the DSM.  Simple neuronal misfires and abnormal brain development could be simple explanations for such deviant behavior.  And sure, it isn’t right, but we treat all kinds of things like cancer, HIV, and the like.  Can we really judge them for being who they are?  If they are just hard wired like that, it’s not their fault.  Sure, it’s gross disgusting, but if they can’t help it, then its like saying a cancer patient could avoid cancer. 

I mean, and this extends beyond pedophilia.  What about the other philias?  S&M is revered with underground dungeons (stay tuned for a future piece on my experience as a dungeoness).  Voyeurism is all across the Internet with spy cams etc.  If all philias are lumped into one category, then technically all are deviant acts that should be shamed upon.  Right?

I guess what I’m trying to figure out is why these behaviors are all lumped together when there is a clear distinction between what is legal hard wired behavior and what is illegal hard wired behavior.  It should really be all or none. 

Before we all get our panties in a bunch about what is a true sexual dysfunction and what isn’t, I should mention that there is a new version of the DSM coming out.  I don’t know the details about what is changing, but there are certainly changes, so who knows.  Maybe my concerns will be alleviated and I won’t go through life wondering if my S&M behavior should be classified as illegal. 

What I’m really interested in knowing is what my reader’s opinions are.  Do you think that pedophilia should be classified as a separate behavior?  Do you think it’s a hard-wired behavior or a learned behavior?  Do you think it’s treatable?  What about other philias?  Where does that leave the vast majority of people who live by legal philias?  Is it fair?  Leave a comment or 12.

A Call For Sex

I can never get past the fact that things relating to sex and sexual relationships are so hush hush.  Its really like Plato really was a dictator and all the artifacts from his teachings are still around today.  Seriously?  And I am so frustrated with philosophers in general being put on this pedestal where they are worshipped, and will be worshipped, till the end of time.  And yet, current day philosophers, true philosophers, are far and few between. 

I forgot I was talking about sex for a second, so need to take a step back.  If you know me (and chances are, you do), my sex life is more of an open book then the rest of my life.  Maybe that is a bit extreme, but again (if you know me), you know that I live my life by science and law, and there is nothing more sincere than Dr. Charles Darwin, Dr. Steven Pinker, and Dr. Sigmund Freud.  I don’t think any of them are doctors, to be honest, but I don’t really care.  They all might as well have medical degrees with the shit they preach.

Sure there have been times I’ve had sex with a dude and haven’t had much to say about it, but truth be told its because there is nothing to say about it, and you don’t want that.  If the sex isn’t spectacular, it never will be, and you will be doomed to fail, unless upon some miracle, you received clear direction on what needs improvement.  And let’s face it, no women is going to tell you what needs improvement (again because Plato shuns us on talking about anything sex-related), she’ll just move on to the next one, and you can’t blame her because that’s just how it is.

And what bothers me even more is how some people are so hypocritical about sex.  It’s like certain aspects you can talk about, but certain aspects you can’t.  What’s the deal with that?  Why can’t it all just be open for conversation?  Privacy can only account for so much (recent article available on the dis-evolution of privacy).

So back to me, since this is my blog.  It’s clear I’m open about my sex life, and I’m hoping to pass the baton on to my fellow readers.  That being said, I’m looking forward to seeing my OWN philosophical and diabolical theories come to life in the form of my fans own stories, tips, and the like.  And so lets call this post really what it is, a call to action for your own experiences that even I may call shocking (and trust me, there isn’t much that shocks me).   

Get out of your mothers basements and give me something to talk about. 

controvershiL@gmail.com

Sex in Mumbai

I haven’t gotten any in a long time.  Needless to say, if I’m following Kubler-Ross’ five stages of grief model, I’m currently in the bargaining stage.  It’s not for lack of trying.  Nooner and I have been trying to get together and about half of my loyal following wants to screw me. 

That being said, I recently came back from a trip to India.  If you know me, I was more than apprehensive about the trip, anxious that the village would suck me up and I’d have to pee in the dirt.  It was fine.  I was just being a drama queen about the situation. 

I guess my real hold up was how different “they” are versus me.  That their lifestyle would be a polar opposite from mine and frankly, I wouldn’t be accepted.  Sure I wasn’t accepted, but their lifestyle was not too far off from mine.  Being the American novelty, I decided to harness what I could and find out what my homeland’s current inhabitants were all about.

A few people I met were self-proclaimed Bollywood elite, but since you are always guilty until proven innocent with me, I was fine.  It seems that the question about sex and sexuality brings out the same reaction around the locals and what it does to my assholes back home.  I was intrigued. 

So whether or not I tapped into a very rare population (which may be true considering the circumstances), my further probes on the pervasiveness of sexual conversations, fetishes, prostitution and the like were not only discussed at length, but featured several opinions NOT unlike my own.  I was more than intrigued. I was floored.

People, both men and women, were not only sexually active, but more than happy to have a conversation with a total stranger about it (being American helped, I suppose).  After I came clean on my credentials, the real questions presented (with the majority revolving around oral sex in case you were curious).  My only regret was that I wish I had more time and made more friends to further my research on the topic, but in the meantime I was sold.

Maybe I took the third world discrimination, stereotyping a little too far, but in the end, despite the economic state of our hometowns, we shared a common interest that shattered my homesickness and allowed me to express myself in a way I didn’t think I could, in the motherland.

That all being said, I didn’t have sex while I was there.  I was warned about that ahead of time, but it’s nice to know that if I had pursued, I wouldn’t have been shunned.  At least not by everyone.  To my readers in the motherland, email me, I'd love to have a guest blogger or two.

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Scheduling issues?  It may not always be a schedule. 

Cheat On Her With Me.

If you are insecure, you are being evolutionarily weeded out.  So ladies (and dudes), if you are playing those foolish jealous asshole games, stop it.  I’m really tired of hearing about it from you even more tired boyfriends.  Also I’m tired of hooking up with them just because they are getting bored with you and your idiotic shenanigans. 

So this guy I’m hooking up with tells me about his girlfriend who is the most insecure piece of crap I’ve ever heard of.  Usually, I feel bad for the girlfriends of the dudes I hook up with (no really, I do), but this chick, took the cake.  She was one of those females who take the good away from the term “psycho”. 

I can’t stand that this guy is such a pansy that he can’t just stand up to his girlfriend and tell her what the issue is.  Clearly I’m not any kind of standard that he wants in his life, with the exception of the sexual satisfaction, so he’s not trying to be with me (thank god).  But then what the hell?

I have sex-ed this kid blind and he’s still coming back complaining about this girl (almost said bitch) he’s with.  I stay trying to convince him to break up with her because it’s clear she can’t satisfy his needs and for some reason he says he “loves her” and yet…his dick is in me.  Bro.

If you are in a situation where you need to seek someone else to sexually satisfy for yourself, then it’s clear that you are not compatible.  So end it now before it gets bad for you both of you.  Am I wrong?  No honestly, I’m so tired of telling people that you need to be both emotionally and sexually satisfied in a relationship for it to work.  Show me one relationship, where only one of those makes it work.  You can’t. 

So, I mean, I hate to be redundant, but drop your insecure partners.  They aren’t worth the trouble since you’ll probably cheat on them anyway.  And I’m saying “partners” because this can go either way.  Girls and guys are susceptible to cheating on their mates to get what they need from someone else. 

Okay anyway, so while this guy’s girl is out of town, I’m going to do him.  See you fools later.   

Chelsea Pill Parties

So a few weeks ago, I went to an old co-workers sexy party in Chelsea where I suspect I enjoyed a round or two of something and a glass of red.  While my old colleagues were snorting coke off the glass table on the 2^nd floor, I decided to join the impromptu strip poker game starting downstairs.  This is where I met Sam.

Sam was a friend of a friend at the party and was likely the most sober one there.  I wasn’t really attracted to him at the time.  In fact, I thought he was kind of a snob.  He didn’t really talk to anyone, and clearly thought playing strip poker was above him.  Come on bro.

Eventually, I ended up in my bra, but no one cared on account of my size negative A chest and the girl across from me who lost her bra and some dude who thought it would be okay to wear tighty whities to a pill party in Chelsea.  Whatever.  At least I had a good reason to walk around the party in my bra.  Thoroughly imbibed, I ended up on the couch talking to Sam. 

He had good conversation.  He does some financial yawn stuff down on Wall Street.  I enjoyed another glass of wine and decided that it was time to go home.  I gave Sam my number and told him to call me.  About 15 minutes later, I got a text from him asking if I wanted company.  I didn’t really want company, but it was early, and I didn’t mind having some tame dude over to watch me wash my dishes before bed.

So he comes over.  True to form, I washed my dishes while we watched some stupid comedy crap on TV.  I offered him a beer, which he happily indulged in (quick thank you to PP who is the only reason I have beer in my fridge).  I mean, after I washed my dishes, it wasn’t long before we were making out, and not too long after that in my bedroom.

So whatever, I have someone new that I’m sleeping with.  I don’t have any real problems with Sam except that while the sex is pretty great, I’m not that attracted to him.  The reason that I’m bringing this up is because while I can have had multiple mind blowing orgasms with this guy, I am not at all fully satisfied because I’m not fully attracted to him.

We don’t have much in common.  He’s conservative; I’m not (if that wasn’t obvious).  He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor in that he can’t make me laugh.  I’m not even that physically attracted to him.  I guess the real problem is that I’m too superficial to just keep this guy on tap.  I also think that I’ve been in somewhat of a drought so perhaps I just needed any old lay. 

I wanted to talk about this because despite having a sexual chemistry with someone, physical attraction includes both sexual and natural attraction.  If you don’t find a partner’s face, body, and figure attractive, then that’s only half of the attraction.  It’s that much harder to find someone you are compatible with.  And that much harder to find a permanent mate. 

In any event, my new flavor of the month is the shaggy haired emo white boys you see at top man.  If you have any that also offer mind-blowing sex, I’ll throw this Sam guy to the curve.  Without thought.