Phuket is Not Just a City in Thailand

So clearly the dating game has hit a brick wall. A brick fire wall. You know the kind that keeps fire on the other side of the wall? Yeah, that kind. Granted, I may be a little gun-shy after the last guy (that I almost dated) who couldn’t even remember which chick I was; but the point is, things have been a little slow. On the other hand, I have been very busy adjusting to my new life as an empty nester. I have been filling my days with such life-changing things as cleaning out closets, reorganizing bathrooms and making a Facebook page for my dog (true story).

My most recent venture (and as it turns out much more interactive than my dog’s Facebook page): a neighborhood book club.

Two years ago I belonged to a book club that I enjoyed a great deal. It allowed me to read books that I would not normally read, and the women involved had vastly different viewpoints (conservative) than the people with which I usually hangout (not conservative). It was a very diverse group that brought interesting input to the discussions. They even put up with my crazy antics and choice of mindless books (usually of a sexual nature). What I didn’t like about it was driving all over God’s creation to go to the meetings (which left drinking to a minimum. Boooo! ). Eventually the vast differences in the members created bickering and in-fighting that led to the club’s demise. I believe it’s still active, but many of the original members are gone.

I remember on one particular evening we were finished discussing the book and somehow the talk turned to sex and then, our number of sexual partners. Normally I know better than to share that information but Of COURSE the conversation began with “you can be honest” and “no one will judge you”. So when I said my number (or the closest I can get), one of the girls (who has been married for many years and whose number is supposedly 4) said, “Wow. You were a real slut, weren’t you?” Typically name calling doesn’t bother me. No one is surprised by the fact that I enjoy sex and when you enjoy something, why would you want to have the same kind every day? It’s kinda like eating cookies. If you really like cookies do you want the same kind of cookie day after day? No. You want a variety of cookies so they don’t get boring. But it wasn’t so much the words coming out of the girl’s mouth that bothered me, but rather whose mouth out of which they came. I never suspected this woman to be judgmental until that night and I never looked at her the same way again in the future.

Anyway, eventually I quit that book club but I did miss the camaraderie and discussion so I thought I would start one in my own neighborhood (where I can just stagger home after an enlightening evening of profound discussion and massive quantities of wine). I already had a few women in mind to invite but I know these women well and we are all pretty likeminded. I wanted some real differences of opinion so I thought of an older woman that lives in my hood. She is probably in her 70’s, is a lot of fun and seems young at heart. (Come on! She even got her first tattoo at 60!) So I assumed she would be okay with our group. I phoned and invited her to join telling her I thought she would be a great addition and would bring some different perspective to the club.She told me she was interested but the only thing holding her back was that she “didn’t like the ‘F’ word”. Uh-oh.

Anyone who knows me (or reads my blog) knows the love affair I have with the word “fuck”. The way it rolls of the tongue when used in the middle of a fucking sentence; the harshness of it when it’s over annunciated as an expletive. FUCK! It’s awesome! And don’t even get me started on its versatility. Furthermore, it’s become so main-stream with so many variations used - even in freaking television these days - I just assumed that it was no longer offensive in casual conversation. Obviously I wouldn’t use it in business; but, that girl in the suit speaking in a professional voice and acting like she cares what you have to say isn’t the real me anyway.

Needless to say, I was pretty surprised by my friend’s reaction to the word and the fact that she hated it so much it would keep her from joining our group. What happens if someone chooses a book that uses the word freely? Would that offend her too? I needed to know more. “Really? Why?”, I asked. She didn’t really give me a specific reason but rather told me a story of a bunch of women with whom she used to go camping that used the word freely. She said that she eventually confessed her disdain for the word and in lieu of using the word they started calling it the “PH” word. Wait, what?? It’s one thing not to use the word or to call it the “F” word in lieu of that, but even the acronym for it has to change? WHAT THE PHUK IS THAT???

Of course I love words and I have always been of the belief that words are only powerful if you empower them. I mean, let’s say someone calls me an idiot. I know I am not an idiot and therefore those words are powerless. On the other hand, let’s say someone calls me a slob. I don’t consider myself a slob but if I am honest with myself, I would have to admit that I do have a tendency to be messy; so that may hit a nerve. Another example: a famous politician is giving a speech. If you lean toward that candidate’s way of thinking, you find it to be powerful. But, if you don’t agree with the candidate and you don’t believe a word that is coming out of his mouth, then his speech doesn’t mean shit to you. So why give so much power to one particular word?

Some of my friends have issues with certain words and I find it amusing (and totally use it against them). One of them doesn’t like the word “panties” and another hates the word “moist”. I can annoy them both in one fell swoop by saying “My panties are moist.” BAM! As for me, I can only think of one word that can physically make me flinch when someone uses it: the “N” word. I don’t believe that word should be used by anyone be they white or black. I do however believe that I have good reason; having seen the movie Roots as a child and having been impacted by the horror of that movie, it takes me back every time I hear it. Other than that, words don’t bother me.

Anyway, as there is no way for me to curb the entire group’s language, much less my own (nor would I want to), unfortunately there is one less addition to our book club. What a shame that one word can be given so much power as to keep a woman that doesn’t get out much from having a fun evening out. We do, however, have a great name for our club: it’s a Fucking Book Club.

So now I am curious if there any words in particular that my readers can’t stand? If so, is there a reason behind the disdain for the word or is it just the way it sounds?

Dating and the Internet: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good:

You can meet a shitload of people these days over the internet.  Back in the day you met potential mates at a bar, church, a party, etc.  It required you to remove your ass from the couch, get all gussied-up, and actually walk out of your house if you wanted to meet someone (unless you were looking for a nice Jehovah Witness, in which case you just needed to answer the door).  There were far less potential partners to choose from.  Maybe you met one or two at a party, three or four at church and a half a dozen at a club. This is not the case anymore.  I can sit on my couch in my pajamas with bedhead and no makeup and meet dozens of guys online. Based on their profiles, I can also determine their level of literacy (kind of a deal-breaker for me) before the sappy love-notes even start (that I would feel the need to correct for spelling and grammatical errors and return to them).  I can “ignore” them if I choose, or email them if I want more information.  It’s awesome in an incredibly lazy kind of way.

The Bad:

Choose a previous Antics blog post.  Read it.  Insert story here.

 

The Ugly:

When I was younger and fell head over heels in love with a guy (and it ended in a fiery inferno), I admit that a few times I would show up at his work or his house to see if he was (a) where he said he was going to be and (b) with someone else in that place he said he was going to be.  Some people would call that stalking.  Stalking is such an ugly word.  I prefer “Curious As To His Whereabouts And Company” (or CATH WAC).  Doesn’t that sound better??

Whatever you want to call it, back in the day before Facebook and cell phones, one could only CATH WAC someone for a relatively short period of time before they had to be at work or do their laundry or get other shit done.   These days, with all of the technology we have at our disposal, you can CATH WAC someone from the comfort of your own home, or car, or sitting on the fucking toilet for God’s sake. Sometimes, it is whether you choose to not. 

For example:

 A good friend of my daughter’s broke up with her long-term boyfriend when she left for college.  She was pretty upset that the relationship had ended.  She did her best to put on a brave face but her first mistake was remaining friends with him on Facebook. Inevitably, every time he made friends with a new chick, it came up on her news feed (Hello, Salt! Please jump into my wound!).  Then of course, she would creep on those girls’ FB profiles (let this be a lesson to you, HIDE YOUR FB PROFILE FROM PUBLIC VIEW!!)  She tortured herself daily, hourly and even secondly at times; literally watching him move on from halfway across the country! (Clearly we have come a long way from sitting in our cars in front of someone’s house.)  To make matters worse, when she wasn’t creeping on FB, she would get text messages from “friends” telling her all of the shitty things he had done/was doing while she was away. She couldn’t get away from it even if she had wanted to.  

Eventually she got smart and blocked his ass on Facebook and told her friends to knock it the fuck off, but the damage had been done.  What should have taken a few weeks to get over and begin to heal took a lot longer because technology kept pulling the scab off.  (Yes.  That would be the ugly part.)

Seriously, how many people do we know that may have stalkerish tendencies that soon turn into full on get-a-retraining-order-whack-jobs because of the ease of technology? My guess is that it is far more today than ever before.

And don’t even get me started on camera phones and camcorders!  I am forever looking for holes in the walls of department store dressing rooms…

So what do you think? Has technology helped or hurt the dating scene? Has anyone had any similar experiences with break-ups and technology?

Guest Blog: A Man's Point of View

As one of the author’s readers and close friends, I have immensely enjoyed the wit and wisdom of her blog. Yet in spite of the classically distasteful spin regarding online dating sites, I have ventured down this scary road on my own recently. With little time for the bar scene, and rare other chances to meet someone of the opposite sex, I thought I would give it a try. I figured it could not be as bad as everyone says. Certainly the horror stories and blog posts are exaggerated, under artistic license, to enhance the reader’s enjoyment. But alas, I was wrong.

The stories, if anything, have been underplayed. Either in an effort to protect the guilty or at least to not completely disenfranchise the reader, she has made it seem that online dating is suspect, inconvenient, and fraught with small dangers. It is a lot worse than that. It is a minefield of misrepresentation, outright lunacy, and enough unresolved issues for a thousand doctorate degrees in psychology.

I joined a common dating site, and like most, the users are encouraged to post pictures. In fact, I am sure that profiles without pictures are readily dismissed, as it is a prominent criterion for any search you may want to do. The site makes it convenient to quickly eliminate the profiles without pictures. Yes, we are all still hard-wired to be physically attracted to our mates, at least initially. I know beauty is only skin deep, but butt-ugly is more often than not a deal breaker. So I have had to peruse thousands of pictures of single women. Seriously, what are these women thinking? If a picture is worth a thousand words, some of these photos are screaming in a foreign language.

As a community service, I thought I would share some suggestions for female dating site users that may help.

1.       If your profile says that all your kids are over 18, then the picture you have with your son when he was 8 may be considered outdated.

2.       If you only post one picture, and it is a group shot of you and your girlfriends at some event, try letting us know which one you are.  Me: “Are you the one in the middle?” Her: “No, I am the one second from the left.” Me: “Can you introduce me to the one in the middle?”

3.       If you are posting a picture of you with your pet, that’s great. If it is just a picture of your pet, don’t bother. I am not looking to date your pet (though some men on the site might be).

4.       If your profile says you are not looking for sex or “one night stands”, avoid the pictures of you on your bed dressed in lingerie. It sends a mixed signal.

5.       If you want to post something sexy or provocative, avoid the overhead shot looking down your cleavage. It is way overdone. Every woman has tits and there is probably a classier way to insure he knows you have big ones. If you’re not looking for sex, see suggestion above.

6.       If you post multiple pictures and they are all close-up face shots, we are going to assume you are "larger than life" (and I am not talking personality here). 

7.       If your profile says you drink socially, it's probably best to not have every picture you post be of you in a bar with a drink in your hand. Unless, of course, you mean “socially” as in anytime I am near people.

8.       Don’t post an old picture of you and your ex from your wedding. Not sure exactly why this doesn’t work, but it just doesn’t.

9.       Don’t post pictures in which you are not pictured. No one cares about your favorite poem, the cool picture of butterflies you found on the internet, or your grandma’s cookie recipe.

10.   Don’t post the picture you got from “Glamour Shots”. Men can recognize them easily and we know you don’t look like that without hours of hair and make-up work done in a professionally lit studio.

11.   Be aware of your background. The great pic of you can be a turn off if behind you is a kitchen table full of junk, dishes overflowing out of the sink, or your 200 count Prozac prescription bottle.

12.   Don’t take a picture of yourself in the mirror holding your phone. This screams that you don’t have at least one friend who would be willing to take a picture for you.

Thanks for reading and happy hunting!

 

In his spare time, Brad writes his own incredibly intelligent blog.  Check it out:

http://commonsensiblyspeaking.com/

Hugs, Gina

Problem Solved

This blog is an update to “The Quandry” posted on 08/25/2012, so if you haven’t read that one yet, I encourage you to do so.  Go ahead. I’ll wait….

At the time that I wrote that previous blog, I skipped a portion of our conversation due to my perceived lack of relevance to the story.  Ultimately, it did become relevant so I will have to back up a minute and fill you in:

During our original meeting, somehow the topic of vacation homes was brought up.  He stated that he was on the look-out for a home near the beach where his parents live in a different state. I stated that I was hunting for one near my parents’ beach house as well, which ended up being not too far away from his parents’ home.   (See? Doesn’t seem real relevant does it?)

So when he called me a bit later to ask me to the ballgame (and informed me of the many girls that he dates), he brought up the fact that he had found a home very close to his parents and that he was looking for someone to invest in a property with him. He then began a small “interview process” to see if we might be compatible business partners (Wait. What?).  Call me a cynic (it’s okay, everyone else does) but I barely know this guy and he is “interviewing” me for an investment opportunity?

He begins his interview with the question “are you a clean/neat person?”  I answer that cleanliness is a relative term and that if you were to ask my friends with kids, they would probably say that I am. However, if you were to ask my mother (a certified clean-freak) she would probably say “No”.   

He goes on to say that we would have to agree on which dates/weekends each of us would get use of the place (of course, this is after he had already informed me of his other two women, and all I can think of is that I would have to anti-bacterial all of the counters each time I went there for fear he was banging some girl in the kitchen).

He continues, “So ummm…let me ask you,  your voice sounds a little scratchy. Do you smoke?” 
“Yes.  Yes I do.”  (I wanted to follow this answer up with the fact that I do an incredible Kim Carnes impersonation of “Betty Davis Eyes” but thought better of it.)

He continues, “Do you smoke in the house?” 

This seems like a legitimate question for a potential housemate so I answer, “No.  I do not smoke in my house.”

Next question: “So you don’t smoke in your car?” 

Huh?? What the hell does my car have to do with this??  But I answer anyway, “Oh no, I totally smoke in my car. I drive around all day for a living. My car is a rolling ashtray.” 

At this point, fully expecting his next question to be if he can see my financial portfolio, I changed the subject.  Basically, I have no interest in sharing my potential beach house with anyone; as I have stated before, I am not a good sharer.

Three weeks go by and I don’t hear from this guy at all.  Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Saturday night I am out with some friends and my phone rings: it’s him.  I let it go to voice mail because (1) I am out; and (2) even if I were home I wouldn’t have answered it because it’s Saturday night and I wouldn’t want him to KNOW that I was home on a Saturday night. When I get home, I check my voice mail.  His message goes something like this,  “Hi Gina. I don’t remember whether you said you like baseball or not, but I have these two tickets for tomorrow’s game and I was wondering if you’d like to go?”  

Seriously dude?? We had a 10 minute conversation about my disdain for baseball and your disdain for country line dance which you compared to my disdain for baseball and you can’t remember that?  Clearly I have left an impression.   

It was late so I answered via text:

                Me:   I was the one that wasn’t too keen on baseball. Thanks anyway.

                Him:  Oh ok. Thanks.

                Me:  No problem. So just out of curiosity, are you having a hard time keeping all of the girls straight?

                Him: No, Smarty pants. Just was hoping not to go by myself.

                Me: I gotta be honest.  I have heard from you twice in 3 weeks and both times it was to find out if I would accompany you to a baseball game so you “didn’t have to go alone”.  Not incredibly flattering.

Him: Good point. Sorry but I normally go with my daughter and she has to get ready to go somewhere… (blah, blah, fucking blah).  I do remember now asking you before and not at the last minute and you did mention not liking baseball.  Good night.

                Me: Night

Him: You know the truth is I do have a lot of women that I see but when she said she couldn’t make it earlier today it didn’t cross my mind that I had invited you to another game. (Gee, thanks)  I just was interested in taking you to something that meant something to me and didn’t think. Guess that’s selfish of me. Not intentional to hurt you. Sorry.

Awww. Poor forgetful little martyr. Let's get down to nuts and bolts...

Me: It’s ok. The ball game thing isn’t a huge deal. I am just not the kind of woman that chases a man.  Call me old fashioned in that regard. I thought I saw something, interest in both of our parts during our appointment. So I pursued it, which I rarely do, and I don’t feel it’s very reciprocated.  Clearly you are busy, I get that.  But it’s one thing to be busy with work and volunteer stuff and quite another to be busy with a bunch of different women.  I don’t stand in line well and frankly, I don’t have to. 

And then he finally gets honest:

Him: I was interested up until I asked you if you smoke.

Now, I actually knew this and I have no problem with it.  I myself have certain standards (like not dating a guy with 9 other girlfriends) and I don’t fault others for having them too.  But I will tell you this: if and when I ever figure out how to quit this stupid habit, it will NOT be to get a man.  It will be for ME.  Furthermore, why didn’t he just say this during our original phone conversation?  Was he trying to keep his options open for a potential ballgame buddy?  It really chaps my ass that I am not good enough to date but I am good enough to be company to a ball game “so he doesn’t have to go alone” because his 27 other women don’t want to go with him either.   Nice, dude, real nice.

Me:  I guessed that.  Full disclosure is a lovely thing.

Him:  Never mind.  See ya Gina.

Me:  Or not.  

Admittedly that last comment was kind of a dick move on my part, but I had had enough.

Anyway, problem solved.  

The Quandary

I am in a quandary. This doesn’t happen very often as I am a relatively decisive person.  Maybe you guys can help me out?

A few weeks back, I met a guy while working.  We seemed to hit it off pretty well during the appointment and I thought there might be a connection there.  He is good looking, has a beautiful, clean home and he has a dog that he treats like a king (I like that in a guy).  During the appointment, we talked about relatively personal stuff.  He informed me that he had been married and his wife cheated on him two years ago and moved out.  He kept the house and in his spare time had added a sunroom, a pool house and a large covered patio – with his own two hands.  He said he builds things to relax.  (I like that in a guy too because (1) he is obviously good with his hands and (2) I require a relatively large amount of solitude and when I feel the need to be alone, I can say “You should go build something. Like a vanity or an armoire. You know, for ME.”). 

The pièce de résistance was when I walked into one of his spare rooms and saw a massage table. I stopped, turned to him and asked, “Do you have your own massage parlor?”  He responded with “No, my wife had back problems so I got certified in MASSAGE.” Hmmmm. 

During the appointment he was relatively complimentary (at one point he turned to me and said “You’re pretty smart.”  Yes. Yes I am and you must be pretty smart for seeing that).  Between the compliments and telling me that his wife was gone, I assumed that he was interested.  I also found out we have mutual friends, another bonus. 

The rules of my career are clear that there is to be no “impropriety,” perceived or otherwise, so I needed to complete my work for him prior to pursuing anything on a personal level (See?!? I am NOT a hooker), but I was pretty intrigued by this guy.  So I went home and thought of professional question to text him. I did and a texting conversation ensued.  More Hmmmm.

I completed my work in about a week and texted him to let him know that I was done. Another rather long texting conversation ensued in which he complimented my hair (which IS awesome, by the way).  “Ok” I thought, “this guy MUST be interested.”  He told me to contact him again after by upcoming trip and so I did.  This is where things get….confusing.

So he calls me and invites me to a professional baseball game on a Sunday.  “Oh, sorry, that’s my church day.”  Hahahahaha.   By now you all know that I don’t care for sports much but to prove it my ex-husband and I went to a professional ballgame many years ago and I was so bored I made him leave in the middle of the game.  I couldn’t even drink my way into fun with that.  The problem for me with baseball is the downtime.  The time spent between the plays is way too long; just get up there and hit the fucking ball.  You do not need to walk in a circle, hit the ground with your bat, adjust you balls and spit for 5 minutes prior to settling into your position to hit the fucking ball.  Why don’t you do that before you get up to bat so as not to waste my time?

Anyway, I told him I wasn’t really into baseball and that I would have to pass on the game.  (Let me just stop here and say that there are probably women out there that would have gone to the game, if only to spend time with this guy.  Those women don’t really like sports either, but would pretend to in order to get with a guy.  Those women are stupid.  I will never pretend to be someone I’m not to get a guy to like me.  What if you two hit it off?  You are now stuck going to ballgames together or you would need to “come clean” and tell him the truth, at which point he would feel duped.  The whole thing is a bad idea.)

O.K., back to our conversation:  after some more discussion about sports he states that he is pretty active in outdoorsy-type activities, kayaking, snowboarding and the like.  I would definitely try the kayaking (down a nice lazy creek, not that “white-water-hit-your-head-on-a-rock-and-die” kind) but I don’t do winter sports.  HOWEVER as a compromise, I AM willing to get dressed in the cute little ski-bunny outfit and wait for you by the bar in the chalet.  (See?? I can be flexible!)  He then asks me what I do for fun.  Let’s see….screw, write a funny blog, screw, read, screw… No seriously, my mind starts racing trying to think of something active that I do.  I couldn’t think of one thing.  I certainly couldn’t answer with “I’m pretty much a sedentary slug,” so I came up with dancing which I am trying to get back into by learning country line dancing (mostly because no one wants to see a 40-something woman hip hopping).  He said he feels the same way about line dancing as I do about baseball but that “the other two women I date both do that”.  Wait, what?

NOW the conversation is starting to get good.  I asked for further clarification of that statement and he stated that when his wife cheated and left- last summer- his friends set him up with different women, two of whom he currently dates.  For some reason I was under the impression that his divorce was two years ago (a good long time to get over THAT fucked-up situation) but came to find out it was last summer.  It’s a little close to my time frame of “one year after a divorce” that I will date a guy, but I might be able to get past that.  Boning two chicks and wanting to be thrown into the mix? Not so sure about that one.  Herein lays my quandary:

1.       I don’t do competition well.  It’s one of the reasons I don’t date married men.   How do I know that he isn’t thinking of one of the other ones while we are going at it? I mean, with three of us it would have to get confusing after a while.

2.       It’s not like I am looking for a serious committed relationship. Or maybe I am.  I don’t know.  As I’ve stated before, I have no intention of getting married again.  I am emotionally and financially secure (OK, financially anyway) and I’m not looking for someone to “take care of me” or anything like that. Furthermore, when things start getting really serious, I’ve been known to get scared and run.  So why should I have a problem with someone dating two other chicks along with me?

3.       Maybe it’s a control issue? If I am the only one, I have the control.  If there are 3 of us (this is starting to sound more and more like “Sister Wives”), and I have an upcoming event that I want him to attend with me; do I need to schedule it 4 months in advance to know that I get that date?  I’m not a great turn-taker. I want what I want and I want it now.

4.       Maybe it’s more of a time issue. He stated that one of them is “quite young” (what the fuck does that mean?? Great. Now I have to compete with a 25 year old??), and she lives south and comes up for entire weekends to hang out. I think I’d like someone that has more time than once a month but less than 5 times per week. (See?? I don’t know what the hell I want.) 

5.       I do like his honesty.  No punches pulled; just straight-out lay-it-on-the-line honesty.  Refreshing.

6.       He gives MASSAGES.

7.       He builds shit.  Like with hammers and saws and wood. 

8.       He is incredibly busy. Besides his full time job and dating, he volunteers with many organizations: from music to teaching winter sports to cleaning up highways for his company.  Volunteering is admirable.  Picking up used condoms and heroine needles from the side of a road is gross.

9.       He gives MASSAGES.

10.   It’s almost a challenge to show him my bag of tricks and see if he kicks the other two to the curb.  If he does, I win. But then what? I end up coming up with some stupid excuse to break it off and he’s alone again? Maybe I won't this time? And what if he doesn’t kick them to the curb? It would be a massive blow to my ego.  I don’t enjoy massive blows to my ego.  They piss me off.

 

 
Yes, I am over-thinking as usual.  It’s what I do.

So I’m turning the tables on you guys this week.  Usually it is I giving the advice (for lack of a better term).  This week it is me with the question: Should I go on a date with this guy and see what happens or should I just move on (move on to WHAT? I have no idea.)

 

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Don't Sell Yourself Short

Two of my male friends (one of which has been a good friend for many years and the other a more recent friend) are very open and honest about their perceived “inadequacies”.  In other words, they go around freely and openly telling the world they have small weenies.

I am all for full disclosure and I absolutely abhor lying.  Anyone who knows me well can attest to this fact.  Further, it would be ridiculous to tout a John-Holmes-size penis only to be discovered otherwise in the bedroom when the time comes.  I mean, there are some things you just can’t fake.   BUT, don’t kill your game before it even starts!

For example, I was out with a group of friends and (inevitably) the conversation turned to sex. During that conversation, my male friend basically stated for all my girlfriends to hear, that he is completely under-endowed. I just looked at him. Dude, you are your own cock-blocker!

Yes, in many of my blogs I joke around about wanting a big shlong (It's a girl thing; like men joking around about chicks with big boobs). But in reality I have been with men of all sizes and have been just as satisfied with both.  

 All of that being said, the following is my opinion on the whole tiny Johnson subject:

In a nutshell, sex is a sales game. I don’t necessarily mean “slimy used-car salesman” sales wherein you lie, cheat and steal your way into bed with someone (although there are definitely those that take this approach); but rather, a sales game in that you are selling yourself (Disclaimer: you are not actually going to get paid at the end of it - unless you have made pre-fuck arrangements). 

If you are looking for a one-nighter, you are selling yourself as a lover (“Baby, I can rock your world”).  If you are looking for a long-termer (Yes, that IS a word because I just used it in a sentence!), you might take a different approach (“Baby, I can rock your world AND make you a bangin’ omelet for breakfast in the morning”).  Either way, it’s pretty much all the same: you are selling yourself as a lover to get someone into bed with you. 

It’s almost like a job interview.  You wouldn’t walk into an interview and in the first 5 minutes state that you have a habit of being late every day (well, maybe you would but then you’d be an idiot: an unemployed idiot). The same goes with sex.  If I were hitting it off with a guy to which I clearly had a connection, and he said, “I am terrible in bed but wanna screw anyway?”  NO. No, I don't. But thanks for asking. 

Guys have the advantage of…well….clothing.  It is very difficult for a girl with an “A” cup to walk around telling everyone that she is a “D” cup.  It’s pretty damn obvious that she is full of shit. But guys, unless you are wearing a speedo (and I highly recommend against that), no one knows of your endowment - or lack thereof - until the time comes. 

So what does a guy do to sell himself in the bedroom without lying about his humongous dick? My suggestion is to work your other abilities into the flirty conversation as it becomes clearer that you will be ending the evening with a “big bang”.  For example, rather than “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you I have a tiny little pee-pee”, how about “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you that I LOVE giving cunnilingus”. Or, “Let’s go back to my place; I have an awesome toy that I am dying to use on you.”  (OK, I really feel the need to stop here for a moment and explain to you men that women typically do not like USED toys. I may have said this before but it is important.  Please have a nice selection of unused toys to choose from. Yes, they can be expensive but do you want to get laid or not?   If you get a lot of game, might I suggest a “Dildo of the Month” club?)

If you have confidence in your other bedroom abilities and you know it, you can still walk with your head held high and get laid regardless of the size of your organ.  Women love confidence. But let me be clear: if you boast about your other talents, you’d better have them because you can’t fake that either. Practice on some fruit or something; do a Google search on “how to perform cunnilingus”. (There is much to choose from but be warned: you will also get many porn sites doing that particular search and unless you remember what you are looking for, you will become distracted and have learned nothing sitting there with your dick in your hand).  You can also search “how to use a dildo on a chick”.  This is the information age, People! Stupidity is not a defense (and will not get you laid).

The point is, there are ways to overcome short-comings and disclosing them to an entire room of potential partners is not one of them.

I would love to hear from my readers on this subject.  As a girl, is it important that the guy be well-endowed? As a guy, if you are less-than-average in the penis department have you figured out a way to compensate for that? Did it work? I would love to hear anything else that anyone has to add about on this subject!

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Swingers

So I’m out having a couple of drinks with some friends one night to celebrate another friend’s return to our home state and we are laughing and dancing and having a grand old time when another “friend” (whom I shall call Dicky) decides to step into the “bitter barn” and starts bitching about his soon to be ex-wife.   I (being of sound mind and loose tongue) immediately blurt out, “doesn’t your chosen lifestyle lend itself to your wife leaving you?”  SCREEEEECH.

It kinda felt like one of those movies where they say something really loud and inappropriate right when the music stops and the entire bar turns and looks. Yeah. Like that. It seemed like even the people dry-humping in the corner stopped groping each other to stare at me in awe that I had actually kicked the guy when he was down. 

I looked around, “WHAT???”

Let me explain:  Dicky is a swinger.  I didn’t know this when Dicky friend requested me on Facebook.  I accepted Dicky’s friend request because we had graduated high school together and had many mutual friends.  I didn’t remember Dicky in high school but we had a very large graduating class and I was pretty much stoned for most of my high school career so it didn’t surprise me that I didn’t remember him.  It took me about a month to figure out what Dicky was up to (sometimes I am not too swift on the intake).

The first telling piece of information was all of the pictures Dicky kept posting of himself with beautiful (but trashy) looking blonds.  Now Dicky is not an Adonis. He is short and stout (Yes, like the little teapot) and a little pudgy and I could probably put him in my pocket if I didn’t wear my pants so tight.  So the fact that Dicky had been married for 20+ years and kept posting pictures of himself (and occasionally his wife), with blond bimbos was a little confusing at first. The second piece to the puzzle was that Dicky kept inviting me to numerous parties that he would have and he would have them A LOT.  Like more than once a week there were pictures of him at various skanky-looking soirées to which I had been invited (but thankfully did not attend).  

The last piece of the puzzle (and when the SWINGER marquee finally hit me upside my head) was when I began receiving friend requests from couples in far-off places (“Bob/Liz Smith from Texas want to be your friend.”  How many couples do you know that SHARE a Facebook page??)  After I denied the third couple’s request, l started wondering what the hell was going on and quickly realized that the only thing I had in common with these people was Dicky.   HELLO SWINGERS!

Now (obviously) I am no one to judge how people lead their sexual lives and I have been in a ménage or two in my time but it seems to me if you are in a long-term committed relationship and you are encouraging your spouse to fuck other people, you are playing with fire.  It’s a numbers game, idiot.   At some point in 20+ years, if your spouse is screwing numerous people, he or she is going to find someone that looks better than you, fucks better than you and reads the funnies on a Sunday morning better than you.   It’s pretty much inevitable.  It is the extremely rare case that whatever “special connection” you have with your spouse is the only “special connection” your spouse is going to have in a lifetime, especially when you throw sex into the mix. 

I have met guys that acted like they were the shit because they were “Oh-so-open-minded” to let their wives boink someone else and I come to find out it was purely out of selfish reasons.  They themselves were bored or horny or whatever and under the ruse of being open-minded, simply wanted permission to screw someone else too.  So while he was busy patting himself on the back for letting his wife screw that guy over there, his other hand was firmly planted in some other chick’s Hooha.  Nice.

Even if it isn’t for selfish reasons, and he isn’t looking to fool around with another girl (or guy), which I highly doubt, it’s probably not going to end well.  I speak from experience:

About 25 years ago, I was dating a guy in Florida that wanted to take me on a vacation to his friend’s house in the Keys.  The entire week prior to the vacation he kept telling me how good looking his friend was and how awesome his friend was and that if I wanted to have coitus with his friend he wouldn’t mind.  At first I thought this was some kind of a faithfulness test, so I was adamant that I wasn’t interested.  He kept insisting that he would be fine with it and he and his friend and he were very close and “shared everything” (like a stick of deodorant??).  I told him I understood his point but that I really wasn’t interested because I loved him.  The whole ride down he kept up his song and dance that he would be O.K. with it, should I change my mind.  We pull into the driveway and his shirtless friend comes out to greet us.   Holy. Shit.  Mind changed. 

I’m not really sure what my boyfriend had in mind, or why he was so insistent (looking back I think maybe he either wanted to see what his friend was packing or make his friend jealous of what he had every day), but I’m pretty sure things didn’t transpire the way they were supposed to in his mind. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been clear to set the boundaries or the scenario or the scene so that I knew what was OK and what wasn’t and a few nights into our short vacation, he and I got into an argument.  He was being a dick and ignoring me while I was trying to speak to him about whatever stupid disagreement we were having and so I got the shits of trying to talk to him and went to see what his friend was doing in his bedroom.  Needless to say, boyfriend got his wish. Or not.     

At some point my boyfriend actually came looking for me, saw what was going on, and turned around and left (personally, I took that as a “carry on”).  I am guessing by his reaction afterward that things didn’t go the way he thought they would because (wait for it….) he was PISSED.  Yep.  We all could have seen that coming. Needless to say, our relationship was never the same and he treated me as if I had cheated on him (and I treated him like the idiot that he was).  Moral: Be careful what you wish for, People.

How about this idea: If you want to screw other people, STAY SINGLE.  Trust me, it works.

I would like to hear other’s opinion on this subject.  Are you married and have you ever done or considered swinging? Do you know anyone that does and has it worked for them in the long-term?  As a single person would you consider getting involved with a married couple?

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A Quickie

One of my girlfriends and I were having a conversation via Heytell today. (If you don’t have Heytell you should totally get it! It makes your cellphone into a walkie talkie!)  The conversation pertained to an art gallery opening that we are going to this weekend (because I am all fucking cultured and shit).  And the conversation went like this:

Me:  Is there a cover charge?   (Because while I believe in supporting the arts, I need to make sure I have drinking money.)

Her: Nope! And they will have food and wine!

Me:  My favorite! I LOVE food and wine!

Her: Ohhh  and there will be hot chicks too.  Maybe we can find [our guy friend] a girlfriend!

Me: Oh my God, that would be awesome!  What about guys? Will there be guys there?  (Because while I want my friends to be happy, let’s talk about what’s important here: ME)

Her:  There should definitely be guys there.  Maybe you could fulfill your Cougar dream.

Me:  Funny you should mention that!  I looked up a Cougar website the other day just to see if there were any and there were. But, they seemed to be more like gigolo type of things.

Her: OH MY GOD!! PLEASE sign up for the Cougar dating website, if only for your blog! I mean, take one for the team, Gina!  Do it for your art!

Me: I will take MORE than ONE for the team, girlfriend! MORE. THAN. ONE.

Her:  Whore.

Me: Yes and a very happy one at that…..Hey, don’t judge me. You read Perez Hilton and I fuck.  It’s a choice.

Her:  Hahahaha! You need a T-shirt that says that!!

Me: I'm not sure I could get away with that.

Sheath Thy Sword, Kind Sir

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Creepy Quiet

So have you ever been sitting around with a friend on a weekend night and you two are like bored outta your minds cause there is nothing on TV and your board games are all the way downstairs in your basement which seems really far? You don’t want to go out driving because you are broke or you have had a few drinks (or you are broke because you bought a few drinks), and you are like sitting around looking at each other all bored and shit and to kill the boredom you decide to have sex?   NO?   Huh.

Well I found myself in this situation awhile ago and as it turns out my friend - who ordinarily can’t seem to shut the fuck up - turned out to be so quiet it was fucking creepy. (Which I have now dubbed a new sexual affliction called “Creepy Quiet.”)

Hey, I’m not looking for a screamer to blow my house down.  I’ve actually had that before and it was very hard to concentrate on the matter at hand with all of the noise going on. I was also quite worried that my neighbors were going to break my door down to rescue the poor fucker being murdered in my bed (another blog, another time). But in this particular case, mum was the word (at least it would have been had he said anything).

It’s always nice to get a little positive feedback, isn’t it? I mean whether a person is working at a job, helping the homeless or having a little spontaneous sex, it’s nice to hear the occasional “atta girl”.  I would accept an appreciative moan or grunt, a happily garbled word; even a loud pant would be acceptable. SOMETHING just to let me know he is still in the game (and wouldn’t rather be playing Scrabble).

Eventually, one really begins to wonder if he is thinking of his grocery list or what the next microbrew is going to be at his favorite bar while he is screwing.  I mean seriously, give a woman a clue.  Are you enjoying it? Does it suck? Are you enjoying the suck?  Would you rather go back to watching infomercials? Because I am ok with that as long as I know that’s the deal. The occasional “that feels good” might be in order in this situation or even a little directional advice (in the timeless words of David Lee Roth, “a little more to the right.”).  For the love of God give me SOMETHING!

I know! How about a compliment? A compliment might be nice.  I mean after all, I was too lazy to walk down the steps to get a fucking board game but I did actually get off the couch and take my clothes off.  And now I am even exercising with him.  That should have gotten me something.

So, I guess talking dirty is out of the question; not to mention role playing. How does one role play with a silent person? He could play the quiet pilot, but eventually would be required to say something when, as the slutty stewardess, I presented him with the question of, “Coffee, tea or me?”  He could always play a mime. He could pretend to be a mime and I could pretend to be the dirty girl that was trying to get him to break his “Code of Mime-Silence”; a mime-fucker, if you will. But I imagine even that would get old eventually as I would never win the game. 

After it was over and I had blurted out, “Wow! You are really creepy quiet!” I suggested getting him a T-shirt (as a public service message) that read “I am Creepy Quiet”. The shirt was simply so that other girls in the future would know in advance and not take it personally. There I go again being all thoughtful to my fellow human beings! He didn’t go for it.

The perfect example, and what reminded me of this situation, was the other night when I was watching the HBO show “Girls”. In this particular episode the main character, Hannah, was having the most awkward sex I have ever seen with a guy she had just met.  It was more awkward than new sex ever should be but that is part of why the show is so funny.  Anyway, during the awkward sex, the new guy blurts out, “What are you doing? Please don’t put your finger in my asshole!” to which Hannah responded with “You weren’t telling me what it was that you wanted at all so I was just trying to guess what you wanted.  You are allowed to just tell me what it is that you want.”

And that, my quiet friends out there, is your lesson of the day: Creepy Quiet can get you a finger up your asshole.