Good girls gone bad
Heading straight to my house after a one-night stand, a girl friend drinks coffee in my kitchen and ponders how she got to be so promiscuous.
She used to be all about boyfriends and anniversaries, but now, she’s not interested in anything more than hot hookups with guys she’ll never see again and casual dates with friends-of-friends.
“It’s that one guy. It’s his fault,” she says.
Every girl, at one point, believes in a happily ever after and a Snow White wedding. And then she falls for a bad boy who plays her like a pinball game and she abandons any idea of a prince charming.
Bad things happen to good girls, and she turns into a cynic who starts hiving when she hears the word “relationship.” She becomes all about having fun and non-commitment, and definitely all about casual sex.
But who’s to say casual sex is a bad idea? If she’s bringing her own condoms to keep herself safe, then girl, go for it, I tell her. She might change her mind at some point, but for now, she’d rather strut the walk of shame than march down the aisle.
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To boob, or not to boob?
There are certain requirements to carrying out a given task: you need an apple seed to grow an apple tree and a champion horse to win the Kentucky Derby.
And, you definitely need double-Ds to have titty sex.
Any less, and it’s like having a full house party with a six-pack — there’s just not enough.
Granted, he probably wanted to show me that he could be adventurous in the sack. But an adventure in by 34-Bs?
He must’ve thought that dismounting my chest after already having attempted a titty session would have been a bit awkward. Or, maybe he really, desperately wanted to prove his wild side.
Whatever his reasons were, he kept on driving back and forth to no avail. In time he just utilized his right hand and came.
I guess it was a nice try, but he definitely won’t be trying that trick on me again. Ever.
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Sexsomnia
“I woke up in the middle of the night, and I was orgasming!” says one of my girl friends as she walks up to me. “Wait, you were sleeping?” I ask. She swears that she was 100% asleep until she, out of the blue, started coming and woke up.
I later decide to research this strange phenomenon, and find out that this is called sexsomnia, or sleep sex, and it’s similar to sleepwalking and sleeptalking. A sleeper can experience sudden bouts or orgasm like my friend, or can start engaging in sexual intercourse while still dozed off. Just imagine that your bedmate starts nuzzling your neck and fondling you in the middle of the night — he’s hard and he’s talking dirty, but you notice that he’s not all there. He’s actually still sleeping.
Sexsomnia is not as common as the two other sleep habits that have led people to major sleep disruptions, but it’s a disorder that has definitely affected sex-minded individuals because, while the idea of getting off in a hallucinated, deluded state is hot, sexsomnia, like any disorder, can be problematic. For one, it can be used, fairly or unfairly, in cases of sexual assault.
One of the first cases of sexsomnia was first reported in the press in the fall of 2005, when a Toronto court acquitted a man of sexual assault after he was diagnosed with the disorder. Later that year a British man was cleared of three counts of rape, and in 2007, another British man was cleared of a rape charge after the jury found him not guilty for having sex with a 15-year-old girl.
Sexsomnia not only affects men, though: in Australia, a woman was reported as leaving her house at night and having sex with strangers while sleepwalking. In March 2009, a British woman gave an interview in which she spoke about problems in her life caused by sexsomnia.
While the subject of sexsomnia can be depressing to discuss as it centers around unsolicited sex, if the disorder kicks in when it is warranted for between two consenting adults, bedtime is like going to bed on Christmas eve every night — you’re giggly and can’t get to sleep, because you’re way too excited to find out what’s going to happen in your sleep. Hey, you have to find the positive aspect in everything, right?
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The breakup playlist
It was nasty. You were angry. Maybe it was his fault; maybe it was yours. Either way, the breakup was so painful that you swore you’d never fall for another man ever again. You stayed up all night and cried, and then called up your girlfriends for ice cream and a sob-a-thon-male-bash fest because having someone to sympathize with you is just so comforting.
But during those moments when you’re by all by your lonesome because your girlfriends can’t be physically there for you 24-7 — like when you’re in your room getting dressed or when you’re driving to work and you feel your stomach churn as you replay the breakup in your head for the one-hundredth time — you need something to get your mind off the heartbreak, to keep you from cutting yourself or driving off a cliff. So here are songs you should jam out to during those agonizing times, to remind you of why you don’t need the loser anyway.
As the epitome of the you-broke-my-heart-and-now-I’m-gonna-bash-you-in-a-song artist, Kelly Clarkson’s (Since U Been Gone, Walk Away, Never Again) tunes in the key of angry are ones to definitely include. I mean, did he deserve you? Nah. So should you still be crying over him? No, duh. So get a move on — think about all the reasons he wasn’t worth your time and about the good times you’ll now have without him. Other artists to listen to are Jojo (Too Little Too Late, Get Out), Christina DeBarge (Good Bye), Katy Perry (Ure So Gay) and Rihanna (Ovation).
Tracks that empower women and their sexuality, like Destiny’s Child and Beyonce (Irreplaceable, Single Ladies, Independent Woman), Christina Aguilera (Fighter, Can’t Hold Us Down), Pink (So What) and The Pussycat Dolls (Don’t Need a Man, Don’t Cha) also need to be included. These songs sung by alpha-female goddesses remind us that not only can we easily get over ex-boyfriends, but we can just as easily be happy on our own, or better yet, replace them with better ones and get better sex. And may they soon realize their mistake in letting us go and pine for us forever and ever.
Country music, while usually filled with sorrowful songs of heartbreak and “I can’t live without you”-type emotional lyrics, has a string of female vocalists who aren’t afraid to show a little (or a lot) of aggression toward lost love. Jo Dee Messina’s (Bye Bye) songs are much mellower in nature compared to Carrie Underwood (Before He Cheats) and Taylor Swift’s (Picture to Burn, Should’ve Said No) songs — the girls will key your car and slash your tires, take our your headlights with a baseball bat and sleep with your best buddies. But even these two are tame compared to Miranda Lambert (Gunpowder and Lead, Kerosene), who’ll apparently burn your house down and shoot you. She’s like, “you broke my heart and now you’re gonna die. Haha.” Yeah, they better be shivering in their pants.
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The classic crazy ex
A bright-and-early 7 a.m. text message from an ex-boyfriend jolted me awake yesterday morning.
“Hey. Do you do voodoo or witchdraft, or claim any supernatural powers?” He asked me.
“Um, no. Why?” I responded.
“For the last few days, I keep seeing you and am doing double takes. But just like that, you’re gone,” he replied back.
Granted, I’ve had my crazy moments. I’ve called an ex over, and over and over until he finally called me back, seeing that he had 20 missed calls. I’ve driven to an ex’s house in the middle of the night, showing up at his door at 3 a.m. to continue a fight that was left unfinished earlier on during the day. I’ve Facebook stalked and Googled religiously, not only my exes but their family members, friends and ex-girlfriends as well.
But voodoo?
“It must suck to see my face everywhere, but really, I’ve got nothing to do with it. But thanks for the great idea, sweetheart,” I texted him back.
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Sex addict
My pastor from the church that I attend recently wrote a book about his path to finding Jesus.
In one very “scandalous” chapter, he details his sex addiction and how religion helped him get back on the “right” track.
As I tell one of my guy friends about my pastor’s struggles with internet porn, he looks at me quizzically and asks, “what’s a sex addiction?”
I explain to him that a sex addiction is when thinking about, or engaging in sex becomes such a habit that it interferes with everyday life.
“Well then, I have a sex addiction, too. So does every other guy,” he said.
According to him, he thinks about sex pretty much all day, every day. Cute girl: I have a hard-on. Not so cute girl: it won’t matter if the lights are off. How did she fit into those jeans?: boner. Check out those racks: major boner. Megan Fox: I would give my soul to the devil for a one-night stand with her. Miley Cyrus on the radio: it’s against the law, but I would so do her.
As I thought about what he said, I realized that he had a point. If we follow what conservative Christianity says about sex, we apparently are all addicts.
So as much as I always make an effort to love my neighbor as myself and believe in forgiveness and all that yada yada, if I have to give up getting laid to get to heaven, I’d rather be a sinner.
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No dessert
Problem: my ex-boyfriend’s best friend is cute.
Even more of a problem: the best friend lives in the same city that I live in, and the ex lives 2000 miles away.
For some advice on what to do, I call up a friend. “So what’s the rule on dating your ex’s best friend?” I ask him.
“What rule?” My friend replies.
Apparently, there is no rule.
So as I find myself accepting an offer for him to cook me dinner, I wonder if he, too, is wondering about the same issue: ” what’s the rule on dating my best friend’s ex?”
Halfway through the dinner, though, I’ve made up my mind. There are enough fish in the sea, so why choose to play with two that swim in the same pond? And at the risk of ruining a great friendship?
So I finish up the last spoonful off my plate, I promptly thank him for a delicious dinner and get up to head out the door. As I take one last look at him before I leave, there’s a glint of some sort of malicious tension, but I know that he’s thinking the same thing. No dessert. Not now, not ever.
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Law of attraction
As a general rule of thumb in the dating world, people usually partner up in roughly the same band of physical attractiveness.
For example, a short, blond girl will partner up with a very similar-looking short, blond boy. A tall redheaded woman will partner up with a tall redheaded man. As such, ugly ones partner up with each other.
But there are, of course, couples who defy this law of attraction.
There was the pretty, redheaded girlfriend who dated the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Apparently, he had a hefty-sized surprise down under that gave a pretty good competition to his back hump. And then there was the tall blond who dated the Grinch. He was an executive at a financial firm and had a fat wallet, and his high-end lifestyle lured her in despite his constant frown and crinkly body.
There was also the fat, ugly blond guy friend who, one day, started toting around a cute, petite Asian. Rumor has it he bought her off of a website.
So, lesson learned: you shouldn’t settle for someone who is much uglier than you or aim for an Abercrombie & Fitch model if you’re not a perfect 10 yourself — the law of attraction forbids it. Unless you’ve got major bling or an admirable hoo-haa, that is.
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Godly intervention
She’s a devout Christian and has set her mind to remain a virgin until her wedding night.
So when I ask her about the black-and-blue bruise on her arm, I’m caught off guard when she tells me, “oh, I kinda fell over and hit something when I was giving fellacio in a public bathroom.”
“Wait, so is Jesus okay with you doing that?” I ask.
Apparently, Jesus is not okay with penetration but is okay with everything else. Fellacio in a public bathroom included.
I ask a Muslim friend, who has also sworn off sex until marriage, what she thinks about this situation.
“Oh yah, if it’s not sexual intercourse in the vagina, it’s okay with Allah,” she tells me.
As it turns out, she enjoys anal sex with her boyfriend, as well as handjobs, blowjobs, all kinds of jobs. Everything but penetration in the vagina.
I guess God gave us lips and hands for a reason.
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Cooking to get laid
After 23 years of dating, I’ve finally realized that, when guys offer to cook for me, they’re really not looking to receive compliments on their culinary skills.
They’re looking to get laid. Cooking to get laid, rather.
First, they reel a girl in to their house with the dinner offer. They then offer wine with dinner to get the girl a bit tipsy. Post-dinner comes an invitation to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch, and then it’s “oh, look at the time. It’s late. And you’ve been drinking. Do you wanna stay for the night?”
It’s a genius move — I mean, if the date was an outing at a restaurant and a movie theater, there would have to be the “so, do you wanna come over to my place?” talk. But if dinner and the movie is at his pad in the first place, then the awkward conversation of whether or not the girl comes to the house can be avoided. She’s already there.
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