Conversations With Kinks

Warning: The following blog is graphic in nature. If you are super religious or you have never been tied up, do not proceed. Actually, if you are super religious and no one's ever bound you, you probably stopped reading my blog ages ago. 

 

This morning I was on the phone with a friend whom I will call Kink-olicious. I know, this is a very weird pseudonym but she reads my blog and requested that this be her name. Let’s just call her Kinks for short.

Kinks is bisexual and very much into BDSM. For all you vanillas out there, BDSM means this:

Bondage Discipline

Dominance Submission
Sadism Masochism

She has also spent many years in polyamorous relationships (as primary and secondary) and has had more threesomes than most men have had partners.

Strangely, besides the friends I have made in Texas, the majority of my girlfriends are very sophisticated, educated, classy women in public but are sexual tigresses behind closed doors. Actually, all of them are. If you ever met Kinks, you would think she was the most innocent and sexually normal person on earth. Same with Hollywood, A., EVG, Michigan Girl, Eva, and… well, every female I know outside of this state. But you would wrong about these girls.

We are a strange lot, all of us. The fact that I am probably the least experienced and most innocent of the aforementioned group, speaks volumes as to what these women are capable of. In other words, any man who happens to land in a committed and long term relationship with one of my friends can be assured that he will have a long lasting, exciting and adventurous sex life.

I have to be honest, though. When it comes to bedroom antics, Kinks is the craziest of us. A. might be a close second, maybe even neck to neck, but Kinks… she almost scares me. Here’s a conversation we had in California on our way into one of the local watering holes.

Me: (noticing she is COVERED in bruises) Holy shit! What happened to you? You look like you were jumped into a gang!

Kinks: (lifting up her shirt) Look at my back. It’s purple! Kind of pretty if you look close enough.
Me: Dear god! Seriously. What happened to you??
Kinks: I had the best sex ever last night!
Me: With what? A rabid gorilla?
Kinks: No. Just one of my guys. He beat me with a shovel. It was amazing!
Me: A shovel?!?! Someone beat the shit out of you with a shovel and you enjoyed it?
Kinks: Oh yeah!
Me: If I man did that to me, I’d murder him! And use the shovel to bury his body. You know, so I wouldn’t get caught and arrested.
Kinks: It was fun. I admit, I’m a little sore today, but it was well worth it!
Me: You are so fucking weird. So weird.

So now you understand what I am dealing with here. Need more proof of her strange sex life.  Here are her rules for men:

1.      Don’t cry after sex. She will drive you out into the country and leave you there. True story.

I agree with this. Except the leaving them out in the country part. That’s too much effort.

2.      You need be willing to dominate her in bed at some point.

I am a switch outside of BDSM (top/bottom?), so I agree with this too.

3.      Sex less than three times a week will absolutely not cut it. And afternoon delights are a must.

Again, I agree.

4.      You better know how to tie a rope.

I don’t agree. In fact, keep your fucking rope away from me. Unless I can use it on you or you’re a rodeo clown and are about to leave for work.

5.      Your safe word better be creative.

Agreed. Don’t give me the “red” shit.

6.      You need to be skilled at whipping, swinging a bat, being a slave, and making fudge brownies with peanut butter.

All of those things sound awful. Who the hell eats fudge with peanut butter? Disagree!

7.      If you mind that she watches TV during sex, get the fuck out. The new Sherlock episode will not be missed!

Agreed. Except I am very far behind on Sherlock. Don’t judge!

Anyways, I’m sure there are more rules than just those. I’ll update you if need be. In the meantime, back to my morning conversation with Kinks!

Me: You know, there are times I that make sexual requests to Wil and he looks at me like I am either lying to him or I have lost my mind.
Kinks: He wouldn’t want to hear my requests.
Me: I used to think I was a pretty normal sexual person with just a slight edge, but sometimes I’ll tell him what I want or something I have a desire to try and his jaw will drop like I just stepped out of a porn movie. It’s like he’s doesn’t know whether to be shocked or happy or afraid.
Kinks: Is this good or bad?
Me: Good, I think. Definitely exciting. But I’m beginning to feel like he thinks I am much more experienced than what I really am. I want to say, “No! I’m so vanilla it isn’t even funny.” But I think I only believe that because I’ve known you for so long. I mean, I never got beat with a shovel, right? Never been tortured in a dungeon as a birthday present. So I’m nearly virginal.
Kinks: Yeah, you shouldn’t play never-have-I-ever with me. You’d lose.
Me: Most people would lose to you. But there has to be something you have never done before.
Kinks: There is!
Me: Do tell.
Kinks: I’ve never had a threesome with two dudes.
Me: Me neither. That sounds… uncomfortable.
Kinks: Oh, I want to. I want to in both scenarios.
Me: Both scenarios?
Kinks: Yeah. Once with two straight guys, both of whom are into me but couldn’t care less about each other. And then once with two bisexuals men. That way we all have fun.
Me: Jesus. You aren’t kidding are you?
Kinks: Nope.
Me: You’re going to do this, aren’t you?
Kinks: Hell yeah I am.
Me: You are so fucking weird. So weird.

 I really do love my friends. They make me feel so normal. And holy shit, they are entertaining! Just saying.

-  Fin

 

 

Not a Cosmo Article

Last night I had a free-to-myself-no-showers-watch-whatever-I-want-and-eat-Cool-Whip-straight-from-the-tub night. Which of course led to catching up with girlfriends and being on the phone for five hours. Ah, I love having a vagina!

The best call of the night was my conversation with Michigan girl. After her infamous breakup, she has started dating one of her good friends. Bad bad bad idea. I warned her weeks ago. Don’t do it! I yelled. Date a stranger and pretend you don’t know what he is capable of!

Michigan Girl, however, did not heed my advice. And so this conversation was inevitable.

Michigan Girl (MG): I think Michael wants to end things.
Me: Already?
MG: Yeah. He is showing a lot of the signs.
Me: Like what?
MG: Like calling less and hanging out less. I don’t know, I just feel it.
Me: Give me specifics. You are being way too vague!
MG: Well, I read this article in Cosmo about the 8 signs that he is going to dump you.
Me: Cosmo? Are you serious? You are taking life advice from Cosmo?!?
MG: You have to read it. You will understand once you see what the signs are.
Me: Send me a link, I’ll look at it now.
MG: (emails… http://www.lhj.com/relationships/divorce/dating-tips/six-signs-youre-getting-dumped/)
Me: Whoa. This is Ladies Home Journal. Not Cosmo.
MG: Same thing.
Me: No. Ladies Home Journal is FAR WORSE! And this is just 6 signs, not 8.
MG: But read it. It’s dead on.

After reading this fabulous advice column on getting dumped, which is obviously written by an expert in the field of men and relationships, I was astonished that MG could be stupid enough to buy into this crap. (I love you MG, if you are reading this, but I am still laughing at you.)

Because I care about you so much, kiddies, I have decided to share this bit of genius writing with you. Obviously, all my commentary is in bold red letters. Hope you enjoy.

SIX SIGNS YOU ARE GETTING DUMPED

Worried that you're about to get bonked with the breakup stick? Here are some tip-offs to an oncoming ouster -- and some advice to help you stop the madness, or step off before you get stepped on.

By Amy Keyishian

At this point I am thinking, “Right on, Amy Keyishian! I love this step off before you get stepped on advice that women have such a hard time following! Please, do go on.”

Split-up Sign #1: You never get to hear that cute cell phone ring you downloaded just for him.

Who the hell downloads a cute ring for their boyfriend? What are we, 12? Look at the caller ID like a normal person.

The Symptoms: You guys used to talk several times a week, but lately, the calls come less often. He says he's busy at work, but it just doesn't ring true. Just like your phone.

Okay. He calls less often. This is might actually be a bad sign. Proceed…

What's Behind It: After the initial rush of crush endorphins, he's worried that he's become whipped. Regular check-ins are a sign, to him, that he's really getting committed, and the routine makes him feel trapped. Hence, his little phone rebellion.

(Cough cough) Bullshit (cough cough)… Guys do NOT think this way, ladies. If he isn’t calling there is no secret mystery reason. He just doesn’t want to talk to you. It really is that simple. If a guy is into you, his calls or text will either increase or stay the same. If he is no longer into you, he’ll slow down or stop altogether. Phone rebellion, my ass. He’s very obviously SHOWING you that he is losing interest.  

Oh, and there is always the crazy possibility that he is actually busy at work. If this is true, his calls will resume as normal in a week or two.

Salvage it: Become less available. Make cool plans, particularly ones that he'd find fun, and become tantalizingly busy. Once he sees that as an independent chickie, you're not going to entrap his free spirit, he should snap out of it.

Really, Amy, that’s your advice? Become less available? Make plans he would think was fun? Holy high school game playing, Batman! How about you take the hint, go get your nails done, buy a new pair of heels and move on with your life. Not every guy in the world is going to be into you. This one is most likely not. And who cares? Sometimes you have to wade through the quite a few disinterested men until you find the one who adores you. Or better yet, let him find you.

Scrap it: Allow your calls to slack off at exactly the same rate, until nobody is calling anybody. Voila: uncomfortable conversation averted.

OR… you could do the adult thing and get on with your life. Of course, if he asks you what went wrong, I think you should tell him. He has a right to know that his hints were well received and maturely responded to. Voila: Uncomfortable conversation bravely confronted. Class level +3.

Wrong Tactic: Calling obsessively and hanging up on him. He may be immature, but he is capable of seeing right through that blocked number on his caller I.D.

I think it goes without saying that stalking is ALWAYS a wrong tactic. And illegal.

Split-up Sign #2: Your sheets are distressingly un-mussed.

Ah, the no more sex sign!

The Symptoms: There's been a negative change in your sex pattern - in other words, you're just not doing it as much.

So hurry up and panic and make a big deal about it! Because sex patterns never change!! (Please note my intense sarcasm and underlying frustration that this made #2 on the list.)

What's Behind It: There could be several reasons for the doin'-it decline: a health problem, maybe work woes. Or there could be a real issue at hand: he's tired of the same-old same-old, and his libido has taken a snooze.

Hmm… or maybe he’s fucking tired or the two of you are going through NORMAL changes in sex drive. This should only be a concern if it is ongoing. Like longer than a month.

Salvage it: Give it a few weeks, to be sure there isn't some temporary trouble that has nothing to do with you. Then invite him over, and greet him at the door in a French maid outfit. With a feather duster.

Jesus, Amy. No. No. No. I agree on giving it two weeks, but a French maid outfit? A feather duster? How about you wait for HIM to be comfortable with sex and then you introduce new play? That sounds more reasonable. And less desperate. And less selfish. And a little more compassionate.

Scrap it: If weeks become months and the spark seems to have truly faded, the "we'd-be-better-friends-than-lovers" speech might actually work here -- and might even, for once, be true.

If it lasts more than a month, he is no longer interested in you. And don’t do the friends thing; that never ends well. Just walk away gracefully and eat a tub of ice cream like a normal woman. Maybe watch that breakup movie with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. Then get on with your life as usual.

Wrong Tactic: Asking about it directly. Men are fragile creatures, and a direct assault will surely scare the groundhog right back into his den. And a girl with her hands on her hips, nagging "Why won't you have sex with me?" ... Not alluring.

Men are fragile creatures? No the fuck they aren’t. Asking for a reason the sex is on a downslope is not only a logical course of action, it is the adult thing to do. Of course, you never would say, “Why won’t you have sex with me?” But a “I miss having sex with you, is everything okay?” speech is perfectly reasonable. And is 100% the RIGHT tactic.

Here’s a secret, girls… men appreciate honesty.

Split-up Sign #3: When it comes to making plans... he won't.

Ugh! She’s right about this one. Definitely a sign.

The Symptoms: God forbid you buy tickets to anything -- you eat your heart out while he decides if he'll be able to make it, even with a healthy three-week lead time.

Run. Fucking run. Just trust me on this one.

What's Behind It: Making plans equals planning for the future. Planning for the future equals commitment. Commitment equals FEAR! Get it? Your guy might resist the nonrefundable package deal to New Orleans. Or he might get spooked each Saturday. It sorta depends on his personality.

I hate to say that she is right, but she is dead on. If he can’t even commit to future plans with you such as dinner or ANYTHING, do not be stupid enough to think he will commit to you as a person.

Let me give you an example. Before my ex and I broke up, I became his ‘plan-B-girl’ (no, not in the oops-I-might-be-pregnant-let’s-take-a-pill way). As long as he didn’t have plans to go to the bar, or hang out with friends, or head to the neighborhood pool for the evening, then he would hang out with me. I was his plan B. He didn’t want to make any plans with me because he needed to keep his options open in case something better came along. And that something better was a pretty lengthy list.

Please, do not be this girl. If a man even remotely likes you or is interested in something more than just sex with you, he will make time for you in advance and he will show you that you are his priority. Maybe not every day (that would be crazy and obsessive) but often. Guys like being around girls that they are in to. It’s that simple.

Salvage it: This is bad behavior, and there's only one way to tame it: Disappear. Give him one chance to get on board, and then make alternate plans -- ones he can't join in on. Yes, it stinks -- you have no boyfriend for, like, three weeks. But if he's worth keeping, he'll get the hint. Pronto.

Salvage it? No fucking way. This is where you have enough respect and love for yourself to want something better for yourself. She’s right about disappearing. But you need to disappear for good.

Look, I know this one is hard. It took me a while to get the confidence and self-love to realize that I am worth being a plan A. Even when it meant walking away with a bit of a broken heart. Trust me. Hearts are easier to mend than the loss of dignity.

Scrap it: Then again, if he's not worth keeping -- this tactic will prove it, and you can move on without guilt. Hey, you gave him a chance to come along.

Blah blah blah. See above comment.

Wrong Tactic: Trying to make rules and insisting that he come to Saturday game-night or suffer an hour-long tirade. Sheesh. Are you his girlfriend, or his mom?

Agreed. This is a terrible tactic. And what if it is HIS Saturday game-night?  Or HIS Sunday football? Being a plan A is important, but so is giving him some space.

Split-up Sign #4: He gives you the "I Need Space" speech

The Symptoms: As symptoms go, this is a pretty obvious one -- he actually communicates a desire to not be around you as much.

This is a difficult one for sure, but usually YOU are the cause of this speech, not him.

What's Behind It: This is often a panic-inducing situation, but it doesn't have to be. Yes, sometimes "space" is a euphemism for "buh-bye." But sometimes, it really does mean that he'd like to re-adjust the relationship so that a little absence can make his heart grow fonder.

There is no hidden meaning here. You are crowding him. Give him his god damn space.

Salvage it: Give him space. As requested. Allowing him as much space as you can stand, while still making your presence known (with sporadic check-in e-mails, a card in the mail, a song dedicated on the radio), can make you absolutely adorable to him.

Sometimes guys just need their own alone time. You should too. And you should be respecting this for both of you.

Here is why this is tricky, though. If a guy needs a week off from you, something went south somewhere. And there is no coming back from the ‘week of space’ speech. This is a whole blog entry in itself, but believe me when I say it is time for you to pack up and move on.

Scrap it: If you suspect he's more of an astronaut than you can stand, trump his space request by saying you should see other people. And mean it.

No. If his alone time is unreasonable (a week or more), you should leave. Who cares about ‘other people’. This is about you accepting that he is not that into you and loving yourself enough to make the right decision.

Wrong Tactic: Saying "No, you can't have space." That is guaranteed to backfire: instead of taking a little space now, he'll take all the space he needs -- by leaving the relationship.

Agreed.

Split-up Sign #5: As Sting nearly sang it, "Every little thing you do is un-magic"

Oh, god. This is the one I hate most.

The Symptoms: The very things about you that he used to find cute, he now finds irritating -- and seems to be picking petty fights over everything you do.

Yep. I know this one well. My high pitch sneezes are adorable. My little kid enthusiasm about everything is refreshing. My life with pajama’s and champagne is delightful. By 74 quirks make me unique.

And then a few months go by…

Now my sneezes hurt his ears, my enthusiasm about everything is frustratingly childish, my pj’s and champagne nights are ridiculous, my 74 quirks are annoying.

What's Behind It: This is more common than you'd think - and while it can mean he's tired of you, it more likely is a sign that likes you more than he wants to admit. And that you're spending too much time together, stirring your spoon in your coffee cup around ... and around ... and around....

What the fuck? A sign that he likes you more than he wants to admit? NO! It’s a sign that he is sick of you. It’s literally that simple. You annoy him.

Salvage it: Don't even play into his irritation. Give him a little breathing room - either let his comments roll off your back, or gracefully bow out every time he throws a fit over nothing. A little free time should let him know he's stepping out of bounds.

Leave. If he’s still with you even though you annoy him, it’s only out of fear of loneliness, not because he likes you. Leave and be available for the guy who will forever think everything you do is adorable. He’s out there. I promise.

Scrap it: If he's really indulging in some very bad manners, you're excused from politeness yourself. Take yourself out of an uncomfortable situation altogether-and don't return his calls.

Agreed.

Wrong Tactic: Crying, apologizing, and changing when you clearly didn't actually do anything wrong. This just sets up a pattern that will only get worse as time goes on.

Do people do this? Jesus god! Yeah, I agree. Change nothing, apologize for nothing, don’t stick around and feel worse about yourself. Wow, you women never cease to amaze me.

Split-up Sign #6: You just have that sick feeling in your gut.

Here we go…

The Symptoms: An intangible sense that things just aren't going right.

We all get this. All of us.

What's Behind It: Well, it could be paranoia. Or you could be right. Unfortunately, computer technology has not developed enough for us to diagnose this one for you.

I could not agree with Amy more.

Salvage it: Try a straightforward conversation. Remember that guys don't generally like those, so do it in a way that really sounds like friends talking, and make it clear that while you'd like to stay with him, you don't want to keep him in a situation that truly doesn't fit.

Surprisingly, this is absolutely what you should do.

Scrap it: If you've been having the same gut feeling about him, maybe you're both right. But in the absence of identifiable problems, you owe him the same conversation.

Uh huh.

Wrong Tactic: Committing a pre-emptive dump. If it turns out that you really were just being paranoid, and in fact he's preoccupied by a problem at work, you could end up being the worst kind of bad guy. As a result, he'll be so hurt he'll dump the next girl... and a new cycle of dumpages will be unleashed upon the world. You don't want to be responsible for romantic Armageddon. So as uncomfortable as it might be, you've got to do the right thing.

I agree. A pre-emptive dump could lead to the zombie apocalypse and we could all die. Talk to him first.

Lessons I Learned From Strippers

Not too long ago, I had a group of girlfriends that were… how should I put this… strippers. Some danced in clubs, some danced for private companies, some worked in Vegas.  And some of them lived with me. Whenever I reveal this little tidbit of information to females I meet, most of them do the ‘Eww. Strippers? Really? That’s so gross.’ thing. And most of them are hypocritical assholes.

Because of the judgment and long explanations and backstories I always have to give, the people I hang out with here in Texas know little about my stripper past. I know what you’re thinking. No, I never was a dancer. And honestly, it is only because I did not have the courage to be naked in public. That and I dislike people too much to dance for them. Unless they’ve already seen me naked. Then I suppose the dancing is on. You can thank strippers for any talent I might have in that department.

Here’s what I don’t understand, though. Sometimes I might bring up a subject that involves a ‘dancer’. All of a sudden half the room is up in arms about how women could behave like that. How could she exploit herself in that way? Wake up, ladies. I think it’s time to take a serious look at yourselves before you start getting all judge-y. First thing you need to do is admit that you probably fall into one of these four (five) categories.

1.      You get lonely, go to the bar for ‘a few drinks’, find a halfway decent looking man, go home with him, have crazy drunk sex with him, wake up the next morning, feel shitty about yourself, go home and repeat the same cycle a few nights later. Maybe you wait a week or so.

2.      You get lonely, go to the bar for ‘a few drinks’, flirt with all the attractive men, lavish in their attention, go home alone with a few new phone numbers, and repeat the same cycle a few nights later. Maybe you wait a week or so.

3.      You play it classy, wait for that boyfriend guy to come along, you lavish in his attention, have sex with him occasionally, find some sort of security in playing the relationship game until one of you gets bored, move on to the next one and repeat the cycle.

4.      You have no fucking clue what you are doing or what men are thinking and you just wing it and hope you don’t get murdered in the process.

5.      You’re married. In which case your problems are far more overwhelming than the first four groups and strippers are really the least of your concerns and this blog post has nothing to do with you other than maybe the last half and the fact that, yes, your husband probably goes to strip clubs and yes, you are both probably very miserable. Email me.

You want to know the ONLY difference between you and a stripper? A stripper gets paid for the above troubles (besides #5 because she is smarter than that). Thousands a night even. Okay, fine. She also gets naked in front of large groups of strange men but, honestly, in the world of cable and Calvin Klein ads, is it really that big of a deal? No. It isn’t.

And please do not get me started on women’s rights. You’ll just piss me off, say something arrogant and sound like a dumb ass. Women have the right to strip if that is what they choose. It’s their body and their decision. It’s only exploitation if they are forced to do so against their will or are underage. Same goes for pornography. Do not make me have this argument with you. You will lose.

So what is the point of all this stripper talk? The point is, kiddies, that some of the greatest lessons I have learned about life, men and sex, I have learned from strippers. And today I feel the need to share these lessons with you. You are welcome.

LESSONS I LEARNED FROM STRIPPERS

1.      CONFIDENCE

Nothing is more unattractive to a man than a woman who is not comfortable in her own body. Look, we all have flaws (a little too much ass, not enough boobs, a few wrinkles creeping around the eyes) but who the fuck cares. We are all beautiful. It isn’t the subtle imperfections that define us. It’s in how we use the things that make us beautiful (the curve of the hips, the length of the legs, the arch of the back), how we carry ourselves, and how we move. A man will look past anything if your presence is seductive enough to keep his attention. Trust me. Exotic dancers must master this if they are going to make tips. Black lights always help too. And glitter.

2.      THE ART OF THE TEASE

Want to keep a man’s attention in the bedroom? You better learn how to tease him. Any girl can grab a dick and put it inside her. There is absolutely nothing special about knowing how to have sex. But if you know how to stop at just the right moment, how to barely give him what he wants just when he is about to get it, how to linger just the right amount of time, then when you do finally grab it and go for it, it will be mind-blowing. For the both of you.

Strippers, however, can never do the grab and go. They have to live in the tease moment. $20 here, $50 dollars there. Any amount just to keep that fantasy of the follow through alive. Men are easy this way. This is how dancers make thousands a night.

3.      THE FANTASY/VARIETY

“Oh, our sex life is perfect. We always do the same position every other night in the same room around the same time,” said no sexually satisfied couple ever. Men love fantasy, they love being taken out of their environment, they love doing something different. This is why most men go to strip clubs. They want to fantasize, experience something new. Listen close, girls. DECENT men will never cheat on you. DECENT men usually find no need to go to strip clubs. But DECENT men, just like the cheating prick-hole ones, also like fantasy and variety. Actually, if you were being real with yourself, you women do too. So buy sexy outfits, role play, try new places and new things. Be open to his fantasies and share your own. Jesus. It’s 2014, not 1874. Put some adventure in your sex life… throughout your ENTIRE relationship.

4.      RESULTS

If you say no to your man often enough, you will destroy his sexual confidence. Men like to be needed sexually. And let’s face it, we do need them. So why is it that women have such a hard time showing them this. Have a headache? Let him fuck it out of you. Tired? You’ll sleep even better afterward. The power of the word no in the bedroom is devastatingly strong. Sure, every now and then it’s perfectly reasonable to not be in the mood. But never make it a habit. You will lose his sexual attention.

Strippers know this better than anyone else. Most of the men in a gentlemen’s club (not all but about 70%) are there because they are not getting their sexual needs met elsewhere. We say no for long enough, Candy is getting half his paycheck. Plus you'll end up with a very grumpy and sexually frustrated male. Fuck that.

5.      NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF HEELS

We all look amazing in heels. If you don’t own at least five pair, I question your womanhood. Email me.

6.      WE ARE IN CONTROL

Sounds all woman lib, I know. But it is true. You have the pussy so you have the power. Use it wisely. The pussy and the power.

7.      ALWAYS SET MONEY ASIDE FOR TAXES

Yeah, every stripper I know is amazing at this. I have no idea why but they are. Even the coked up alcoholic ones. I stayed in my clothes and pushed paper for years and still never figured this tax shit out. They are like sexy, big-boobed accountants. In fact, if you know a stripper, I suggest come April you search her out. Seriously.

 

In other news, I obviously lied about posting another blog last night. I’d say sorry but I was fucking busy. It involved beer and orgasms, that’s all you need to know.

 

Hasta la Pasta.

Chicago

It is no secret that I love Chicago. If Chicago were a man I would sleep with it, stalk it, write love poems to it, cook it potato soup and have babies with it. Okay, not the babies part but only because I really hate babies. 

On the days that I fantasize about striking it rich (it usually involves finding buried treasure in the backyard I don’t have or pulling off a Reservoir Dog diamond heist minus the missing ear and everyone dying part), I see myself buying a beat up Chi town apartment with brick walls and open ductwork. I would write every day, eat Italian food every night and become a regular at one of the old Irish pubs off State Street. I also imagine getting a boob job and ridiculously large TV but that is beside the point. Mostly, I picture Chicago.

I could write a list about what makes Chicago the best city in America. A very long list that would include things like amazing food, hilarious locals, Irish pubs everywhere,  a green river, 24 hour drunks, an incredible music scene, affordable dives, snow, beautiful buildings, 50/50 nice guy – asshole ratio (unlike the 20/80 of New York), and so on. But alas, I would much rather bitch about the things that piss me off so here I go:

1.      Indoor Temperatures

Just because it is -4° outside does not mean that turning the thermostat to 80° is the solution to making me comfortable. This isn’t just a few bars or restaurants either. This is everywhere! You know what’s worse than freezing my ass off? Sweating! In fact, sweating in a wool skirt, nylon tights, knee high snow boots and a thick fuzzy sweater makes me want to murder you. Sure I would look cute doing it, but I am seriously one more degree away from smashing someone’s face in. 70° is perfect, assholes!

2.      Tourists

Either walk fast or get the fuck out of my way! There is nothing on Hubbard street worth stopping for. Really? A picture of Starbucks? Where the fuck do you live that this is the first Starbucks you have ever seen? Montana? Oh, look, a cleverly named bar. This must be the only city in the world that has such things. Hurry and take a picture in the middle of the sidewalk so no one can get around you. Don’t worry, the rest of us love being late. And guess what? No one will fucking arrest you for crossing at a red light. Go! There are no cars! The cops don’t give a shit. I promise.

3.      Goulashes

Rubber boots? When there is no snow on the sidewalks and it isn’t even wet outside? I feel like at this point you are purposefully trying to piss me off. Stop. Please. For the love of fashion. You look ridiculous.

4.      Falling Ice    

I guess getting hit once is acceptable. But it is very hard to look graceful and continue walking like a normal person when TWO pieces of rather large shards of ice come crashing down on you. And you don’t even know who to be mad at. You just keep walking and rubbing your head and cussing at nobody.  Which only makes you look like a madwoman. A fact you don’t realize until your already a block down the street and people are moving to avoid you.

And I suppose this is normal, hence all the signs that I didn’t believe. Do people ever die this way? I feel like Chicago was trying to murder me.

5.      Strange Way of Honking

If you get honked at in LA, New York, Detroit, Dallas or any city besides Chicago, you will know it. People in every other city in America know that laying on the horn means get the hell out of my way. In horn language, light tapping usually means someone is waiting outside for you and politely wishes that you would hurry up. So when you light tap your horn at me, you just confuse me. Do I know you? Should I wave? Is there a kitten crossing the road? Oh! You want me to move. I had no idea with your pussy-like honking. Do me a favor, Chicago-ians… commit to the horn. Lay on that mother fucker like you mean it.

6.      Pizza and Hot Dogs

I know all about the pizza and hot dogs, everyone-who-lives-in-Chicago, so please stop telling me about them. Okay okay, you guys have the best pizza in the world. Sure, you make a mean hot dog. But notice how you don’t see Californians running around telling all the out-of-staters, “You should really see our beaches. They are magnificent.” You know why? Because they assume you already know because everyone on the planet knows. I love your food, Chicago, the whole world does. So stop telling me about it every two seconds because all that does is make me want to rip off your lips. And how will you enjoy your pizza dogs after I do that? You won’t.

 

7.      The Uncreative Homeless

Look, I love the homeless. They live in boxes and wear fashionable fingerless gloves and drink 24/7. They are my kind of people. I do, however, expect a little creativity when begging for my money. A clever little sign, a pregnant side kick, a magic trick, a dancing monkey. But all this “Got any change?” business isn’t cutting it for me. Step it up, homeless Chicago people! And who the fuck carries change anymore? Does change still exist? Ask for liquor or burritos, it’s what most normal Americans have on them at any given time. Or learn to take bank cards. Your requests are outdated and annoying.

 

 

In other news, Wil has made promises of a sex-filled week when I return. I think this is exactly why I keep him around. That and he feeds me wine and lets me pass out in his bed occasionally. And he bought me a book, which is pretty much the most perfect gift ever.

Since I made this trip sans vibrators, he better be hydrating and working out. Because come Saturday, I’m going to be ready to go… and mildly grumpy. I will expect a leather whip and a sex swing. Okay, I actually expect neither. Especially the whip. What a strange thing to sexually enjoy. Seems bloody and hostile. Anyways, I do expect marathon sessions. Just saying.  

Oh, and I have to apologize for how long it took to update my blog. I have another post coming later tonight to make up for my lack of updates. It involves a day at church and a rather large Valentines dinner but my battery is about to die so you will have to wait. I will be out of commission and off the grid for a few hours but stay tuned. I appreciate all your emails and death threats, though. Much love back at you.

An Open Letter to Wil

Dear Wil,

I feel there are a few things I have a hard time discussing with you in person. Things that are causing me great distress. And I feel the only healthy way to share my concerns with you is to blog about it so that hundreds of strangers can be all up in our personal business. It’s how healthy people deal with issues. Trust me. And so here it goes…

Let’s start with the fridge situation. When it comes to your refrigerator, I know there are important things that I should be concerned about: the five year old pizza boxes, the poor choice in cheap beer, the lack of any fruits or vegetables, that bag in the back with its mystery contents that has been there since I first started sleeping with you and thought you might actually have bottled water but discovered that the flammable tap water was your only source of hydration. But alas, these things do not upset me. What I find most distressing is your lack of any dairy products. How can you drink coffee without creamer? How do you eat cereal without milk? How can you get through the week without devouring at least one block of cheese? Where do you get your calcium? How are you still alive? Do you take supplements? Or do you just hate the idea of healthy bones? I really want to know. I need to know.

But let’s move on, shall we? I am well aware that if I were a good girlfriend I would clean your apartment for you. Maybe even vacuum and dust. Possibly mop your floors. Pick up the condom wrappers. Throw out the gazillion empty cigarette packs. But as you now know, I am not a good girlfriend. I am lazy, easily distracted (you have cable, so you are partly to blame) and your apartment would take days to clean. I understand why you don’t do it; it is exhausting to even think about. But can’t you just go to the bar, manipulate some poor drunk girl into cleaning your house and then toss her to the curb? I mean, what is the point of your brilliant deviousness if you do not use it for the greater good, like a clean environment for us to play video games and have sex in? Please consider this option before I swipe your credit card and hire a maid for you. I don’t want to steal from you this early in our relationship. It never ends well when I do.

More importantly, I am deeply concerned about your Sriracha sauce hoarding. When you first ordered three GIANT bottles of Sriracha, I thought, “Wil really loves hot sauce. He must eat it constantly.” But then I saw the five drops you put on your chimichanga and, well, I was shocked. If you had Sriracha for every meal that means you would have 15 drops a day. According to my calculations, each bottle holds 7,865,992 drops of sauce. That’s enough to last you 524,399 days. That’s 1,440 years, Wil!! Per bottle!! Do you know something the rest of us do not? Is the apocalypse upon us and we are all going to be living in a world where Sriracha is the new currency? Because, honestly, that is the only reasonable explanation for the massive amount of hot sauce you now own. Either that or you’re a vampire. And as your girlfriend, apocalypse or vampire, I think this is something I deserve know.

Finally, we really need to clean that sex towel. And soon. Because at this point, I think the towel itself could get me pregnant. But thank you for always leaving it on my side of the bed. And you say you aren’t romantic!

Your Concerned Girlfriend,

Seeks

A Brief Understanding of Women

After a long talk with my friend Justin the other night, I finally came to the realization that men are completely stupid when it comes to women. Oh, sure, they blame us for this. We use women language, we never say what we mean, we expect you to read our minds, blah blah blah. But, honestly, assuming you have an IQ over 75, it isn’t that difficult to figure us out. We’ve been the same way for thousands of years! Same way!! All you have to do, boys, is open your fucking ears and pay attention and maybe, just maybe, you will understand what we do and why we do it.

The problem with ‘paying attention’ for men, however, is that it takes away time from where they would rather be investing their energies in. Football, TV, beer, sleeping, thinking about food, thinking about sex, robots, preparing for the zombie apocalypse, and so on.

But don’t worry, guys, I’ve created a seven point list on understanding women that should help you safely navigate your way through your marriage, relationship, one night stand or hooker. Okay, maybe it’s just the basics but it’s better than nothing. Trust me. Now listen close.

1.      If we aren’t having sex with you, it’s because we have serious issues with you.

Remember how in the beginning of the relationship, your woman was putting out every day? It’s because we actually like sex. No, we LOVE sex. We want to please you, make you happy, turn you on, try new things. And guess what? We NEVER get bored of this. We could do this forever.

But piss us off enough, make us bite our tongues, no longer put us first, stop romancing us and our sex drive shuts the fuck off. We never do this without warning, though. We always try to address our issues with you, it’s in our nature. But if you have ignored us or brushed us off or not listened to us, the issue will never be resolved and our vagina will dry right the fuck up.

So, gentlemen, if you want a lot of sex the rest of your life, keep your woman happy. And the second sex starts slowing down, you better find out what is going on inside her privately pissed off mind and repair it. Immediately.

2.      Be very afraid of the word “whatever”.

If you ever here this word come out of her mouth, you are in some serious shit. Translation: Go fuck yourself. Nothing good, and I mean nothing good, ever comes after this three syllable word is uttered. You have crossed some crazy line and all the hellfire and fury that she has been trying to keep under lock is two seconds from spewing out of her. Your only courses of action are to start apologizing, start running, or figure out what you just did and fix it.

3.      We really are scared of spiders.

We aren’t trying to be cute. Those things are assholes. One look into their beady little eyes and we can tell they are going to try to kill us. So when we start screaming, you better be ready to start slaying. And don’t toy with us!! “Oh look how little he is.” “It’s just a harmless spider.” “You do know you are capable of killing it yourself?” Oh yeah? Well, we don’t give a shit. Just take two seconds, play the hero and kill the son of a bitch. We’ll love you for it. We’ll go to bed thinking of nothing but your bravery and valor. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t show us the dead body. Just flush the damn thing. Twice. So we know he’s really gone.

4.      Most of the time, we are smarter than you.

Think you fooled us into believing you had the stomach flu and that’s why you couldn’t have dinner with our parents? No, you did not. Think you pulled the wool over our eyes when played too tired to go to the wine tasting event you promised to take us to last week? No, you did not. All the little tricks and games you have up your sleeve, we have most of them figured out. Oh, we let you continue thinking you are clever, it’s called choosing our battles, but you are most certainly not clever. And we never forget. Which leads me to number 5….

5.      We Never Forget.

Be careful what you say. Be very very careful. Because we remember almost everything. Unlike men, who very conveniently forget most of what comes out of our mouths, we have collected and stored 90% of the information you have handed us. It’s innocent enough. We do it to everyone and everything. It’s how we remember phone numbers, birthdays, shoe sales, and so on. But that one time when you have formed a perfectly sound argument about what-the-fuck-ever and it completely contradicts something you told us five years ago… we will let you know. Loudly and confidently. That’s why I always say I like my men quiet, it makes them look less ignorant in the long run.

6.      We want to be romanced!

Notice how none of the great romance movies show the guy doing nothing and the girl falling head over heals in love with him? Yeah, because no girl falls for the ‘doing nothing’ guy. We want to be romanced! Oh, we will pay you back in great blow jobs and clean kitchens. We’ll actually do whatever it takes to keep you happy. Why? Because we fucking love romance. See how we swoon over Sixteen Candles? How all of us love The Princess Bride? It’s because that is what every girl dreams of. We want a man to sweep us off our feet and make us feel special. ALL OF US DO! If your woman has ever said, “I don’t need romance, I just need you” she is fucking lying her face off to you. Jesus. How do you guys not get this?

7.      Don’t assume we know how you feel just because you tell us.

“Geesh, I tell her I love her all the time and she acts like she doesn’t believe me.” Probably because she doesn’t (flashback to my last relationship). Sure, you will babble on about how she is acting insecure and not trusting you. Shut the fuck up. Women believe what they see, not what they hear. Actions, fellows, actions. See how we do it? We cook for you, clean up after you, get your beer for you, go out of our way to make you happy. That’s called showing you we love you. You guys should try it sometime. Maybe then your wife/girlfriend/secret-lover will believe the words coming out of your mouth. Trust me on this one, if a long period of time goes by where we don’t believe you, we’ll usually move on. (I say usually because some of us hang around for way too long. O_o) Why will we move on? Because we have no idea how you really feel and we aren’t going to stick around and assume.

There is so much more I would love to tell you about us, but at this point I am beginning to feel a little male-bashy. Don’t fret, boys, women are just as big of asshole as you are and need a similar list to understand you. I’ll work on one.

Hasta La Pasta Kiddies!!

Zen Morning and My Two Vibrator Reviews

I woke up this morning in a very odd mood. Not odd in a bad way. Odd in the most fascinating and refreshing way. I felt content. Like all the emotions and anxieties I have felt over the last few days that have been bubbling up and finally came bursting over Sunday morning, have subsided leaving only a singular feeling of… peace. Ah, look at me being a hippie. It’s annoyingly brilliant, isn’t it?

Let’s start with my boring anxieties and realizations.

Anxiety number one. I’ve been struggling with whether I should get a second job, go back to school, or move and start over. This has been gnawing at me for days, burrowing itself deep inside my brain to the point where every half an hour I am demanding an answer from myself. But why do I always see these as my only options? What is it that I really want out of life? Where does my happiness lie?

The answer is in writing. In all my terrible writing. Take everything away from me, all of what I have, and this is the one thing that can make almost anything bearable. So this morning I broke out my half-finished novel (on a flash drive, of course), shoved it in my pocket and decided that this is where I will focus my energy. No starting over, no second job, no college classes. Just me, words and rolling the dice.

Anxiety number two. Ugh. I tend to get way too close to the people I care about. I want to know everything I can about them. It’s like when you find a great book and you want to reread it, understand it, be a part of it. But people aren’t books and sometimes wanting to be close to someone only serves to drive them away. At least everything in my history has taught me that. The problem is that when I think I’ve crossed that line, I shut down. In fact, I have never NOT shut down. But didn’t I promise myself not to fall back on my old ways? Yeah, I’m ridiculous like that. And if I were to be truthful, my first thought was, “I don’t want to pull away.” Sounds like a great idea, right? Face your fears and change your behavior (saying this in my best Oprah voice)! No, it was a terrifying course of action. I was left standing in the most unfamiliar territory. Jesus. What did I do, you ask? I did what all confused women do. I acted a bit nutty. In my heart everything was telling me to stay away, go home, get out. In my head everything was telling me to shush up and calm down.  What came out was, “Aren’t you tired of me?” Which translated in my mind as, ‘please be tired of me.’ Why? Because all of this would be less confusing and then I’d have a solid reason to shut down. Make it easy on me! Don’t make it easy on me! Of course, this only served to leave the poor guy standing there going, “What the hell happened to Seeks? Has she lost her mind?” Yes. Yes, she has.

But then this morning came with all its zen-like calmness. What the shit, me? Who cares if I go off my rocker every now and then? I’m allowed to go crazy once in a while. And who cares if someone is tired of me or not? If I really think they are I'll stay home… problem solved. Want to understand someone? Don’t. Pick up a good book (a real one) and forget about it. Most people don’t even understand themselves so your endeavor is doomed the second you open your mouth. Furthermore, most people don’t want to be understood. And let’s get real; shouldn’t you be investing that curiosity in yourself? Self-understanding does not come from interest in others; it comes from discovering what makes you tick. Trust me on this one, kiddies. If someone wants you to know them, they’ll lay it out there for you. If your interest in what is going on inside their skull rears its ugly head and comes slithering out of your mouth, they’ll have no idea what to tell you. It’s not their fault. You shouldn’t pry and it shouldn’t matter.

Okay, enough of my boring morning. The point is that somehow last night I put myself on reset and woke up feeling more grounded than I have in days. I also joined the yoga studio, bought a new yoga outfit at lunch and have a top secret meeting with someone important about something important (shhh). Anxieties gone… check. Emotions properly buried… check. Champagne in the fridge… check. Batteries in vibrators… check. Yay, me!

Oh! Speaking of vibrators!! I finally got the two I ordered and I am both horribly disappointed and pleasantly surprised. Let’s start with Mr. G Spot Finder.

G Spot Finder

It ran okay for two seconds. And by okay I mean it  barely vibrated and you had to hold down the dial to get it to work. After hours of flipping batteries and shaking the damn thing I gave up. It is now a dildo. And we all know how pointless dildos are. In fact, I was so angry at that device that I refused to name it. That’ll show Mr. Find-Your-G-Spot-But-Does-Nothing-Else! Wait, did I just name it? Damnit!

The Rabbit

Holy shit! First thing I did was throw in the batteries in order to see if it would at least turn on and vibrate. After the G Spot Finder debacle, I was worried. Oh, it vibrated alright. It also did something very surprising. The whole thing spun! Spinning penis, spinning beads, vibrating bunny ears. Obviously this thing was made from fairy magic. I just sat their holding it thinking, “Dear god, who is the genius that came up with this idea?” Time travel? Pshtt! Tele-transportation? Bah! Quantum computers? Boring. This mother effing thing spins! And, in the first time in vibrator history, it took all of 30 seconds. Rabbit and I, we are now best of friends. Oh, this one is definitely getting a name!

Traveling Sex Toys

This year I will be traveling for work. A lot. There will be times that I may not be home for days, other times I may only see Dallas on the weekends (and we all know how much I love Dallas).

Today, two things about this travel situation hit me. I’ll start with the cheesy.

The Cheesy

I actually like spending time with Wil. I know, I know. This isn’t a healthy situation. I’m not supposed to enjoy being around a boy. That’s how you set yourself up for heartache, that’s how they hook you, that’s the point of no return, blah blah blah. But it isn’t just a doey-eyed, little school girl thing. I actually enjoy his company. We can watch movies until our eyes bleed or play videos games or surf the net or just lie there in a perpetual state of hung over-ness. It’s like (dare I say it) hanging out with one of my best friends.

And he doesn’t mind me in fuzzy pj’s sans makeup. I can go over to his house, never move from the couch, be amazingly comfortable and drink wine from clean-ish glasses. Does it get better than that? No. No it does not.

My point is, I will miss him. Incredibly.

The Not So Cheesy

I will miss sex. I’ve gotten spoiled in this area. My three times a week quota has not been a problem. My average is now five to six times a week. Yay, sex hungry me!! So what in the shit am I going to do if I'm gone for five days? This is a very serious problem. One that requires a very serious solution.

Thank god I think ahead about these things. Thank god I can come up with brilliant solutions. What exactly is my brilliant solution, you ask? To amass a large vibrator collection immediately. IMMEDIATELY!

 

Okay… back to Amazon we go. I know what you’re thinking. Why amazon? Why not Adam and Eve or some online sex shop that specializes in all my masturbating needs? You know, you ask a lot of stupid questions.

The first reason is the reviews. Amazon sex fiends are awesome reviewers. I can easily find out if the vibrator is too small, too loud, breaks down easily, blows up after five uses. In fact, if you want to see the most thorough reviews on a product, just look at any sex toy on Amazon. It’s serious shit.

Second is the prices. My $129.99 purchase today ended up at $24.99. Beat that Adam and Eve! You can’t? Why’s that? Oh, because you aren’t the magical price slaying giant that Amazon is. Hmm.

Okay. Let’s get down to the fun part. I didn’t buy just one toy, kiddies. No no no. There were sales. There were deals. There were cheap vibrators galore. So two it was. (I will probably buy four more by Sunday. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.)

My Purchases

The First Selection: THE CURVED G SPOT FINDER

 

What? No twisting the thing around trying to peg that ever elusive g spot? SOLD! Oh my god. This is better than Christmas. If all I have to do is lay back, turn it on and jam that thing up there, then me and Mr. G Spot Finder are going to become very good friends. Here is the description (my comments in italics):

Get in tune with your environment. (I had no idea that vibrators had that power.) As tension is relaxed, you feel better physically, emotionally and mentally. (It’s like a hippy, a therapist and a boyfriend all in one!)  Double the power, triple the fun. (I have no idea what you mean by this.) Designed for the ultimate clitoral, g-spot and anal sensations. (I am not putting this in my ass but thank you for the option.) This Galactic Finger is sure to please your every desire. (I’m not sure I believe you. I desire to be 22 again and live solely off of wine and cheesy puffs. I’m pretty certain this vibrator can’t deliver all that.) Shaped for G-Spot pleasure especially (swoon), but it can also be used however you please. The silicone material makes this toy soft and firm at the same time and the built in nubs will provide clitoral pleasure all at the same time.

The Second Selection: THE RABBIT

 

What the hell is all that? Beads, clit stimulators, a penis shaped thingy? Did I just die and wake up in masturbation heaven? I must own this! As soon as possible, please. Here is the description:

 

A rabbit vibrator that's perfect for satisfying your every desire (Again with the desire thing?), the 10X (10X? Holy shit!) Dual Stimulator Vibe features easy to use controls (Because some vibrator controls require advanced technical knowledge?), a dual-prong clitoral stimulator (Did you just say dual?), and lots of texture that will make you shiver with pleasure. This sexy adult toy is waterproof for fun in the bath or shower, too! (Oh, you know what to say, don’t you?)

The realistic shaft is topped with a flared penis head, and is covered with a raised vein texture beneath for more sensation. (Strangely, I find that a little disturbing.) On the front, the ribbed clitoral stimulator tickles the clit with two soft, flexible antennae for incredible waves of erotic enjoyment.

The rounded base is easy to hold in a palm for self-use (The most common form of vibrator use, so thank you.) and the four-button control pad turns each feature on and off independently. Both the clitoral vibrator and tip of the shaft have powerful motors that deliver ten functions of vibration, pulsation, and escalation you can mix and match for the perfect combination. (Mind. Blown.)

Sexless travel problem officially solved. Can’t wait for the airport security checks!

(Test runs happening in five days if we are to believe Amazon’s tracking. Stay tuned for my reviews.)