Monthly Archives: December 2011

Shit or Get Off the Pot

This cat has clearly chosen the "shit" option. I respect that.

This is one of my mother’s favorite sayings.  Along with “Life isn’t fair” and “If you wear too much lipstick your lips will fall off” (hey – they can’t all be gems) I heard this a lot growing up.  It means, in short, be decisive.  When faced with too many options, I get anxious and completely indecisive.  But what do you do with someone who, when faced with only 1 option, still can’t pull the trigger?

I met Mr. Indecisive off of OK Cupid earlier this year.  He came at me pretty hard with the whole “hey sexy” thing, but I was fairly certain, based on the type of humor in his profile, that he was being ironic/funny.  We had a pretty fantastic first date.  I took him to my favorite bar downtown and we furiously made out while 90’s hip-hop played in the background (like you are so in control of yourself that you don’t automatically make out with whoever you’re with when Hypnotize comes on).  Fast-forward a few hours and we’re doing pretty much everything you can do while horizontal and in an alley doorway.  Date 2 and we’re off to the races and it’s GOOD.  Great technique and as ironic as it seems now – totally decisive.  In the bedroom this man was so take-charge. Outside of the bedroom – eh, not so much.

What followed was a 2 month exercise in frustration and futility.  We were in contact every day, either by text or IM or the occasional phone call.  We saw each other once or twice a week.  Sounds promising, right? Wrong.  Although he was the one to initiate most of the contact, I was the one that had to set up all the dates/times we would get together.  And by get together I mean bang.  Only twice in the 2 months we dated did we see the outside of his bedroom, and one of those times was the bar/alley on our first date.  Getting him to go out to dinner with me that one time was no easy task.  It was like negotiating with someone in another language, without the benefit of a translator.  I may have even come out and said “we are going to dinner before we fuck” or something like that.  When I invited him out to watch me perform at a bar just 3 blocks from his house, he “cancelled” at the last-minute due to illness (he later confessed that he wasn’t really sick).  Any and all attempts that I made to move this thing outside of those 4 walls was summarily shut down.

Well at least her robot cuddles!

Despite a few flashes of jealousy and ham-handed attempts at tenderness, it was pretty clear that this thing was just about sex for him.  I didn’t mind that too terribly, because the sex freaking rocked the casbah.  But there was something really robotic about this dude.  I wondered if he had feelings.  Was I fucking the terminator?  Was he agoraphobic?  Either way, the orgasms were plentiful, he seemed to be all about my pleasure even if it meant he didn’t get off, and he was always down for the last-minute booty call (hell – if parking was easier in his neighborhood, I might still be fucking him).

But after 2 months of playing cruise ship director and setting everything up EVERY SINGLE TIME, I started getting bored.  Dear reader, you know how much I delight in the pleasures of the flesh, but even a depraved sex maniac such as myself likes to get out into the world every once in a while and see a movie, eat a meal, look at some art, make fun of strangers in the street, etc. etc. Add in the fact that he was so closed off I wasn’t sure he had human emotion and his outright admission that he was “emotionally unavailable” and I was ready to bail.  For as awesome as the dicking was, I like my casual sex with a side of humanity.  I decided to release him back into the wild.

I did something that I had never, ever attempted with a man – I was honest.  Shocking, I know.  But when the words “This just isn’t enough for me” left my lips something very strange happened.  Like when the Grinch’s heart grew 2 (or was it 3) sizes, this dude turned into Mr. Emo.  We then had full-on, emotionally connected yet still dirty (come on, I still like what I like) sex.  I left feeling a bit confused.  Who the hell did I just fuck and where did he keep the robot in that tiny apartment?  But still, I was happy with my decision to end it and sincerely hoped that I had made a good friend for life. After all, I already had a new victim…er…man in my sight.

Truth be told, I never really stopped dating other dudes while we were seeing each other so I was able to fill up all my new free time with no problem.  And as friends do, he started asking me about how my love life was going.  But as friends usually don’t do, he got crazy jealous and demanded I stop talking about my love life.  I then got accused of being insensitive to his feelings.  WTF?

The next week or two he spent texting me, IM’ing me, calling me to talk about things, to see if we could start over, to give him another chance.  I’ll be honest – I was conflicted.  The only reason I let him go was because he seemed so uninterested in getting to know me, so closed-off.  And the whole never-leave-the-house thing.  Now here he was, being all sensitive and shit and talking about his feelings and about how much he wanted to be with me.  And I couldn’t stop thinking about the sex.  The awesome, awesome, sex.  So I made him a deal.  I told him I’d give him another chance and that we could start at square one and go out on dates and see what happens.  One little caveat – no sex.  No, it’s wasn’t meant to be a shit test.  I wasn’t sure that I felt anything for him beyond sex either, so I wanted to take that out of the equation.  Plus I didn’t trust that this change of heart was sincere.  The timing was pretty suspect, no?

Well as soon as I said “no sex” and agreed to give him another chance, we have landed right where we started.  Me as cruise ship director.  Well guess what?  The Love Boat has left the dock and no matter how fast he swims, he’ll never catch it.  Wait – is that delicious 23-year old I see in the Karaoke Lounge?  Hold my drink for me, I’m going in…


I Hereby Christen 2012 The Year of the Bush!

Everyone adores a well-trimmed bush!

Bush is making a comeback.  Yes, it is.  Mark my words.  Ok, so MY bush is making a comeback.  Don’t get crazy – I’m not talking full-on smuggling a baby sasquatch bush.  I’m talking tasteful, well-groomed, nicely-shaped bush.  Why?

  1. I am SO damn tired of shaving. My battle against cuts, nicks, scrapes and bumps has been an epic battle indeed.
  2. I am SO damn bored of the bald look.  Time to change things up.
  3. Curious to see the looks/reactions on gentleman’s faces when they see what’s doing down there.  Nobody has seen me with even a speck of hair.

This is not some crazy anti-men, feminist girl-power thing.  I’m still shaving my legs and have no intention of harboring  a small wookie under my arms.  I’m not trying to make a statement.  (Although I have been feeling a bit anti-establishment and a wee bit rebellious as of late).  Laziness + Curiousity + Boredom.

I predict that, although I am a harbinger of fashion trends (who was one of the first girls in her high school to pair Doc Marten’s with combat boot?  THIS GIRL) bush won’t exactly catch on like wildfire.  I also predict that, on the whole, men will be indifferent to a light dusting of grass on the sandlot.  And the ones that DO care – talk about a great douche-detecting mechanism!

Happy Holidays to all!


You seem like “fun”

A little too much fun

Lately, I’ve had several messages from gentleman on Match.com (yes, I bit the bullet and ponied up the dough for a one-month membership.  Just tired of the same old faces on OKCupid) that reference the fact that I seem like fun.  Ruh-roh.  Do we have a problem here?  Am I fun in the “you look like you would be down for some sex with minimal effort on my part” or “you seem witty and I would like to enjoy some activities with you. Which may or may not include sex based on whether or not you like me” kind of way?

Perception is everything, and you only have so much room to present yourself in an online dating profile.  You want to come off as fun, but not too much of a good time.  Assertive but not aggressive. Funny but not too sarcastic.  Interesting but not dramatic.  Well-rounded but not into so many goddamn activities that reading your profile makes the reader tired.  Casual but not emotionally unavailable.  Your profile needs to weed out the bad while attracting the good.  When you think of it this way, it’s a bloody miracle that anybody is able to pull their shit together enough to actually get a date.

So, what do you think?  Is coming off as “fun” a good thing, or a bad thing in the online dating world?


When a married man cheats, is the “other woman” more to blame than he is?

I will start of by answering my own question – no.  100% NO.  Unless, of course the lady in question tied him up against his will and forced him to hide the salami in her…pantry.  In which case, that’s just plain-old rape and not cheating.  But I digress…

Bizarre Love Triangle

The other night I was watching the news with my Mom and counting down the minutes until Jeopardy started (because I kick her ass EVERY TIME) when the nightly Herman Cain story came on.  For those that have been living in a cave, or, you know, have an actual life, Herman Cain is one of the long-shot candidates vying for the Republican nomination for President.  He has had some, er, lady troubles as of late of the non-consensual kind but it had recently been discovered that he carried on a 13-year relationship that may or may not have included sex (yeah, right.  And I have a lovely bridge to sell you) but did include meals, cash, and stays at posh hotels.  Putting aside the fact that we don’t really know what happened (and my god, I don’t even want to imagine these two naked) and that we have no idea what kind of marriage/arrangement he has with his wife, it appears to be another case of a married man cheating.

When a picture of the lady in question flashed on the screen, Moms practically spat. “Look at her. She is SO disgusting.”

After a beat, I responded “Well, so is he.”

“But,” she sputtered “she’s MORE disgusting.  Because she knew he was married.”

Unable to wrap my mind around this logic, I pointed out the obvious – that he knew he was married too.  And I’m pretty sure he was aware of that fact long before she was.  Add to it that they are both consenting adults that carried on a relationship for over a decade and I fail to see how either one of them could bear more of the blame than the other. Now, I’ve known Moms for well, my entire life and I understand her better than anyone so it was no surprise that she would, in effect, place a disproportionate amount of blame on the woman vs. the man in this situation.

But her reaction isn’t really all that different from I suspect a good number of women’s reactions would be.  Have you

This makes me sad to be a girl

ever seen Cheaters, or Maury, or Jerry Springer?  Plenty of scorn is heaped upon the man who cheated but how many times have the women gone after (literally and figuratively) the other woman?  Pulling hair, calling her a cunt and home wrecker (is there even a male equivalent to that term?), blasting her for not staying away from her man all while he sits there, sheepish and in some cases enjoying himself.  I’ve never seen a study done on this subject in particular, but I’d be willing to bet my firstborn (and believe me, she is far too helpful at this age for me to part with her easily) that on the whole, more blame is put upon the other woman.

This misguided notion that women “should know better” and that men “just can’t help themselves” is shitty on so many levels and is, I think, very insulting towards men.  They are just not capable of being adults and making good decisions.  They are just powerless when faced with pussy.  Poor dears – how do they get anything done surrounded by all of those boobies? Really people, this is just another form of slut-shaming and you know how I feel about that!

To my knowledge, I’ve only been cheated on once by my high school boyfriend and it wasn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy feeling.  (I dumped him, promptly and without argument.  Sigh – sometimes I wish I had that uncompromising you-fuck-me-over-and-you’re-gone attitude back in my life). However, I’ve seen first hand the devastation and fallout that occurs when adultery tears through a marriage.  So I don’t minimize that this is a serious issue.  But let’s not kid ourselves and think that keeping your man away from other sexy, sexy ladies is going to keep him from taking the old skin boat to tuna town.  And if he does let her ride the bologna pony, it’s a CHOICE that he made.  He’s a shithead.  She’s a shithead. End of story.