backup wanted?

It should be shameful to admit that you have someone waiting in the wings. What I mean is a lot people I know, myself included, have back ups prearranged.

In the 4th grade I made a pact with the boy I used to carpool with to school – if we’re not married by 33, then we would marry each other. After all who wants to spend a life alone, right? I moved a few years later and have since lost touch with my former future husband. In the intervening 10 years (yes, I am that old), I have realized I either need a new back up or I have to, gasp, be okay with the fact that I could end up alone.

With divorce rates over 50 percent these days, is life really about finding the other person who makes you whole? Or is it about accepting yourself and realizing that you are whole enough as is? Do I really still need a prearranged backup hubby?

Our society fills us with the idea that true bliss lies in success in both the work and domestic realms. In order to be happy I need to have a loving husband, at least two intelligent, healthy children and a dog (for good measure). Until recently, I actually bought into this design. However, considering I have difficulties holding onto a relationship for more than six (ok three) months, is this ever actually going to be my reality?

Is marriage and procreation really the end all, be all of life? I’m starting to think not. Sometimes I don’t want to answer to anyone. And sometimes the chore of taking care of myself is daunting enough. Perhaps I’m choosing to believe that self-love is the ultimate measure of success. Why else would so many women own vibrators?

My point – I’m taking it upon myself to educate our society (or at least the 7 people who read this) that single is sexy. Backups are not necessary.

Don’t get me wrong, I know many people who are in loving and worthwhile relationships. And I am beyond happy for them. I am just acknowledging that that’s not everyone’s path. There are people who are going to end up alone – it’s reality. But there is nothing sad or depressing about it. Indeed, it’s quite liberating.

So wherever you are, carpool buddy, thanks, but no thanks. I am fully okay with my single and fabulous status. After all, it means I can flirt my heart out with that adorable bouncer whose warm smile and camo hat makes my stomach do flip flops. In fact, if you’re reading this, call me! 😉

cosmetic vaginal surgeries on the rise

Crotch Shot (the article about this not an actual pic – perv! lol)

am i the only one who finds this ridiculously depressing? i mean do we anywhere hear about an increase in surgeries for men with low hangers? or how about more public outcry that men who do not shave, or really just trim, don’t deserve oral sex at all?
these cosmetic procedures are not only a waste of money, but do these women realize that there is an inherent health risk associated with essentially mutilating one’s genitals? is looking like a prepubescent girl worth the risk of never having a clitoral orgasm again? ummm… I THINK NOT!
there is nothing wrong with how you look, only how you feel about yourself! plus, i would bet you most men would be so excited to just have a woman in bed that they really wouldn’t care what they look like! perhaps choose to fuck your local neighborhood drunk instead? after all, he won’t ever remember what you look like 😉

pizza flavored beer?

want to lose weight? trying to figure out a way to tell your fuck buddy you’re done with them? just annoyed at a friend? why not partake in some pizza flavored beer! after all, that kinda combo wouldn’t make you wanna throw up at all…

the straightest gay man alive

oh Tom Ford, even though you are gay you are a love of my life. what am i saying because you ARE gay you are a love of my life! here’s what the former head gucci designer recently had to say:
“Why shouldn’t women have sex for enjoyment? Why should showing off be a bad thing?”
i’m right there with ya tommy!

sometimes saying it with a card is best…

and coming to your mailbox soon, from me:

yes, you can really send these and dozens of other fabulous messages – someeecards: when you care enough to hit send

your week in sex…

Horoscope

the dirtier the den, the dishier the deed

I have this theory that messy people are better in bed.

I try to keep a neat apartment for the most part, but am truthfully only clean when I anticipate getting laid.

For those occasions, my friends know they need to budget me an extra half hour of prep time, at the least, to make my bed, throw all my toiletries into my medicine cabinet and scoop the clothes off my floor into my closet.

My cleaning itself is chaotic. It usually involves making piles and then taking the contents of those piles and tossing them into closets or drawers or cabinets or anywhere else my slobbery can be, for the most part, concealed.

A few months ago I met a man, a cop mind you, who discovered me in my messy closet.

Let me start at the beginning, I had just gone skinny dipping with a bunch of friends (cop man included) and I needed warm clothes to put on. I thought I had secretly slipped into my bedroom so I might rummage through my knee-high pile of clothes hidden in my closet in search of something to wear (yes, I hadn’t done laundry in that long a time). So, I was leaning over the heap when this guy came, shoved me into the pile, closed us into my closet and on top of my messy, smokey smelling clothes mound started making out with me. We were drunk, but something about the enclosed space and the utter filth of it had me all kinked up and ready for a ‘lil filth of my own.

Hours later (and for many hours to cum) we had sex on top of my messy, debatably disgusting, dump of a walk-in closet.

We tried to have sex again a few days later on a regular bed but it just wasn’t the same. I guess he agreed the magic was over too as we only now exchange text messages at 2am, albeit ones about dirty socks and soiled sweaters.

Something about the literal dirt made our romp all the dirtier and ultimately all the more desirable.

Maybe it’s the okayness with chaos? Maybe it’s the lack of anal retentiveness? Or maybe it’s that the type of person who is cool with crap is also cool with carnality? After all, someone who is messy is not going to have a problem staying in bed all day eating leftover Chinese food and canoodling and copulating til the sun goes back down.

My point – sex itself is inherently messy. And no I don’t mean when you’re simultaneously screwing three University Avenue bartenders/bouncers/barflies (although it is a little nerve racking that they all know one another…). I mean that a little openness, a want to get freaky and a willingness to rock out on the road less traveled are all desirable qualities in a bed-mate, or closet-mate as the case may be.

Fucking outside the box is a great thing and people who are willing to be dirty are always the best ones to go there with.

the death of periods

while you could just continue to take your birth control year round (aka screw those fake hormone week-4 pills) you can now take a pill which eliminates your period altogether, year round. only problem is – i relish those monthly visits from auntie flow signifying that i’m not preggers! tho i could totally do without the PMS, breakouts and bloating…hmmm…it guess it’s just a personal choice?
here’s a good article about the perks and perils of the new drug: Bloodless Revolution: The Abolition of Menstruation

asking for an std test – pointing fingers or incriminating yourself?

obviously a huge aim for me with this blog was to get my columns out there! so, here goes:

I’d like to think I have matured since my dorm rat days. While dwelling on the top bunk of a temporary triple in Tolbert I chronicled my sexual exploits on the ceiling above my bed. My “guests” signed their names, traced their feet and occasionally left trinkets like torn off neon wristbands or ‘smile today’ stickers. By the end of the year I had accumulated about half a dozen different handwriting samples.

What I didn’t realize then was that it also meant that I had about half a dozen chances of catching something, well, icky. Even that guy I only made out with for 10 minutes before my roommate barged in could have easily given me herpes simplex A (the kind most common around your mouth).

Four years later I know for certain I have caught something else – a guy who I would like to pursue a competed, monogamous relationship with. Seeing as my partner is even older than me, and has probably had an equally shameful past, I want to suggest that we each get tested. But how do you go from scandalous Sue to righteously responsible Ruth? How do you ask your partner, significant other, bedmate, fuck buddy, or whoever you’re rolling around with in the sheets to go and get tested for STDs?

My initial fear was that by asking I would sound judgmental and incriminating. My second fear was that I would sound skanky myself. I just kept imagining if someone asked me to get tested I would be more than mildly insulted. Think – is my skirt really that short and slutty that you want to make sure I’m not carrying gonorrhea?

After a week of debating I went to the gynecologist to test myself; frankly, my new boy was a small factor in my decision. If I had all these doubts and concerns obviously the issue had more to do with me and less with him. I needed to know my freshman fraternizing did not catch up with me. I also needed to know if I should comb through my pictures of the diary-like entries on my freshman ceiling and write a nasty piece about whoever the culprit possibly was.

At the same time, if my new boy and I were ever going to make a relationship work I could not be nervous to ask him to do something so simple and painless for me.

The moral of my ordeal is this – we all have hook ups in our past that are questionable. But there is no reason to question whether you contracted anything from it. Test yourself; it’s the mature thing to do. After all, if things don’t work out with the new boy I’m sure you will be seeing me at Balls taking Washington Apple shots in the near future, and if I do make a poor decision again (which, truthfully, is near inevitable with me) at least you know I’m clean. Can you say the same yourself?

and so it begins…

read how this all got started: the backstory