Dirty Post

This week’s post is all about sex. I know what you’re thinking; we’ve covered that before. Well, not exactly. This post is a little more specific. Also explicit. Today we’re focusing on actual sexual acts and their consequences. This is why I write this sh*t under a pseudonym. We’re starting off with two simple, should-be-fairly-obvious subjects, but if you have anything dirty or depraved that you’d like to discuss, email me or hit me in the comments section and we’ll post again. I’m not averse to making this a regular feature.

Where do you get off?

From the windoooows, to the waaaa- No.  Hell no. I realize that in our hyper-sexualized porn-loving culture, that sexual fantasies being cultivated by young men in their adolescence over the last two or three decades have been a little more, um, intense than those who came of age at a time when the glimpse of a woman’s wild and wooly area was enough to seal the deal. Perhaps it is because of this (or because of ever-changing attitudes about women), we have been experiencing a weird new trend: Trying out porn moves in real life…sans discussion. Look, I don’t have a lot of sex. Not because of some asinine social mores, but because my family’s Catholicism is hard to overcome mentally (even though I know sex laws are ridiculous. Thanks a lot, St. Agustine) and because I study human disease and I am terrified of the HIV and the herp. That being said, when I do find a man that I deem worthy of the key to paradise (Is she deluded? Or is she that good? *), I typically have months or years of pent-up sexual frustration to take out on him. The first time may be flowers and candlelight, but after that shit is gonna get real. I’ve got that preacher’s daughter thing going on due to years of sexual repression. HOWEVER, no matter how athletic – even rough – I may like my intimate encounters, even I don’t want you giving me a facial. I would think that would go without saying, but when I checked with ten girlfriends to see what about sex they wanted men to know, two of the ten admitted to getting an impromptu semen shower. That may be a very poor, very specific sample population for statistical purposes, but knowing that 20% of women polled encountered the dreaded skeet led me to believe that this issue should be addressed.

There are many reactions to unsolicited sexual “extras”. When my former roommate’s boyfriend decided to try the back door without asking, I was treated to a naked, crying girl running across my living room shouting “not cool, not cool.” When my friend’s buddy decided to bathe his girlfriend’s chest with his seed, he rested, upon finishing, above her with his arms at her side. She, feeling less than thrilled with his actions, knocked his arms out from under him, sending him falling on her chest and into his own goo. When he protested, she responded with “well why the f*ck would you think I would want it on my chest?” Good question. One of the two girls polled said that it was a communication issue.  That she told her boyfriend she wanted to get a little aggressive,that he should take what he wanted.

[Let that be a lesson, ladies: word choice. Word choice.]

Look. Gentleman. I know this may be confusing for some of you. Many women readily swallow it, so why not wear it? The same goddamn reason I don’t want you dousing me with Champagne a la Big Pimpin. It’s not just degrading, it’s dehumanizing. It sends a message that she is a thing. That’s frustrating enough to deal with when it’s coming from a rap video, pundits, or some douche-bag one-night stand. But if it’s someone she trusts, someone she cares about, that kind of thing can be devastating. Why not just take a dump on her chest? Or pull a mid-level- R&B-star sex tape move and piss on her?

[What woman could resist?]

I feel like I’m a fairly progressive adult. I recognize the importance of sex in a healthy relationship and I gain pleasure from pleasuring my mate. I think that, sans the backdoor (hey, you gotta save something for marriage, right?), I would be down with trying a good deal of different fetishisms. But with DUE NOTICE. Do NOT just do stuff to a girl. Just as she gains pleasure from pleasuring you, you should gain pleasure from pleasuring her. Not from degrading her. Maybe you’ll find a girl who likes to be degraded (there are many) if you can only get off if the woman is being reduced in some way (or if you’re just curious), but most women with healthy upbringings and self-esteem are going to be less into it. They may still do it if it’s something you need and the rest of your relationship is equal and respectful, but not without a conversation first. Don’t spring ass play, skeet shots, pile drivers or anything else that “totally got Sasha Gray off”. Porn stars are porn stars. They’re women who have severe emotional and psychological problems. Beyond that, it is their job to act like whatever is being done to them feels awesome, even when it clearly doesn’t.

[I mean, what about these girls would indicate that any part of it may be FAKE?]

Also, they’re getting paid. A hell of a lot more than the cost of a prime rib at Outback. Either use a condom, ask her to get on the pill, or wash your damn sheets. But first and foremost, take it easy on the porn.

* Deluded. The answer is deluded.

Why do girls give bjs instead of sex. Isn’t it worse to have a dick in your mouth?

I would think so. But I think it goes a little deeper than that. This is another one of those “years of sexual repression” things. I’m sure BJs existed in the 60s, but my 66-year-old mother still had to ask me what one was when she watched Knocked Up against my advisement. Maybe it wasn’t as prevalent then? Either way, wort.movie.experience.ever. Regardless, after decades and decades of serious sexual repression and decency laws, certain sexual acts were, well, glossed over. The main focus was on preserving virginity, not oral virginity. Women were taught, quite simply: the prize is in our pants. That’s the main event. The hand is the opening act no one’s heard of, the mouth is the second opening act that just insisted upon being referred to as a co-headliner. As such, in many people’s minds, the mouth is less dirty and a better option for someone you don’t really want or aren’t ready to get with.

["For lunch we're serving meat loaf instead of egg salad, and uhh...BJ's don't count"--- Lewis Black]

For the truly sexually liberated women, though there may be one of three reasons she is more likely to put it in her mouth:

1.     It’s easier to see if it’s clean. Herpes lesions are easier to spot five inches from her face.

2.     Her throat can’t get pregnant.

3.     Her mouth stays the same size no matter how much she uses it.

Well, that concludes today’s post. May my mom never ever read it. 

Does anyone really settle?

Hey, when do you start your blog again? Coz I just read an article that said guys are into settling now. You should talk about that.

Aaah the myth of settling. Is it settling when the middle-aged cat lady realizes that she probably won’t be doing much better than Selena Gomez guy and he acknowledges the same? Or, is it more a conscious recognition of where they stand on the desirability scale and giving up on trying to punch above their weight class? 

I read the article to which you’re referring and I personally found it to be encouraging in many ways. The only thing I take issue with is the author referring to this phenomenon as “settling”. (That’s right, this is a post devoted to an argument of semantics. Those are always the most enjoyable to read, right? No? Well, good to see I’m picking up exactly where I left off).

Finding a person that you are “friends with, have fun with, and have great sex with” and choosing to build a life with that person does not sound like settling. The concept that it is so is a reflection of our culture’s obsession with the great love affairs of literature and screen. It’s a common belief that this Nicholas Sparks/Jane Austen-type indoctrination only hurts women. But I can tell you from personal experience with the men I’ve dated and as well as the experiences of my male friends that this delusion affects men as well. I’ll try to explain this the way I calm my mom down when she hears about Craigslist killers and human heads found on Hollywood hiking trails. It wouldn’t be notable if it happened often. If people being beheaded and children being kidnapped were commonplace, no one would hear about it. It is because it is unusual that it is compelling and thus considered newsworthy. The same can be said about the type of love detailed in movies, television shows, and great novels (for the record I’m referring to Austen here, not Sparks. I’m not a total Philistine. *Discreetly deletes the Ghost Whisperer episodes from the DVR*).

“The Vow” was based on a real-life couple. A man wouldn’t quit on his wife after a life-altering accident despite the fact that they’d only been married a short time and also in spite of the fact that the accident left her, not only with amnesia, but also with a completely different personality. Why is that a story worth sharing? Because, statistically speaking, divorce rates increase when one of the two partners develops a disease, certain types of cancer for example, as do rates of infidelity. I’d like to think that I would never be that much of a soulless bastard and I’m sure you feel the same way. However, despite good intentions of those not in the situation (and despite the fact that society as a whole will pretty much have to acknowledge that you are a steaming pile of dog shit for leaving or cheating on someone you profess to love when they need you most) a shockingly high number of people will Gingrich you or at least Edwards out if you get sick. At the very least they’ll want to, or save face by doing it after you’re better. Before you kill yourselves, just remember that in today’s culture, the majority of people are awful. Consider the fact that Kim Kardashian has 13,348,471 twitter followers (that’s roughly 7 percent of twitter users and amounts to a number equal to 4 percent of the US population) and that urine-soaked media whore is the physical embodiment of the social and intellectual holocaust that is hastening our eventual downfall.

[It should also be noted that this has happened, that Chris Brown has 8,281,842 twitter followers and that, at the time this article was written, Rick Santorum was the Republican front-runner for POTUS…*Paging Odoacer*]

But if you are in the minority, one of the decent remainders, your search would be focused on someone like-minded. So if you get rage strokes when you remember that Justin Bieber drives a Ferrari F430, or how Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission turned out, remember that, despite the fact that the vast majority of Americans don’t know about the latter because they’re too obsessed with the former, you can find one or two girls who do. And they’re probably not awful looking! I have to believe that the small pocket of decent human beings left leave me with enough options for mates that I needn’t worry about dying alone while cradling a dog dressed in a sailor suit.

[Though I’m inching ever closer…]

Provided I pick one of the three or four people that I could foresee successfully breeding with, is it really “settling” just because I don’t lie awake at night unable to think of anyone or anything else?

For most of us, our first experience of love is the Hollywood-style experience. A superficial obsession with someone who likely isn’t a good match but to whom we feel an intense, unrelenting, fiery passion that sucks us in. When the relationship ends (and most often it does) we are decimated (I didn’t date for two years). But those relationships are built largely on hormones, fantasy, and the excitement of finding someone who likes us as much as we like them. They are impulsive, superficial, and as such, short-lived. There are of course exceptions, but the vast majority of the time they end in a manner opposite that of the big screen. In the movie “The Notebook”, for example, the female protagonist deserts her safe, cerebral choice in love (who btw is gorgeous and honestly in love with her) for the other-side-of-the-tracks man who lights her fire. It works out well for them and even gets the blessing of her mother who initially was reticent. There is a scene in which the mother takes her rebellious seed to a construction site (or steel mill, or something that my failure to remember in specifics makes me seem like a Limbaughian parody of a liberal douche) and she tells her daughter that, if she could do it all again, she would marry the working class guy her parents hated. Fair enough…in retrospect…without any realistic basis for comparison. I would have to agree with the disapproving parents. Before you chastise me, let me assure you, it’s not a matter of financial instability. To suggest so is a gross oversimplification and is a suggestion by a lazy writer to create a black and white issue from shades of grey. The issue at hand, realistically, is how long a relationship can flourish between two people from entirely different backgrounds, with different educations levels, different upbringings, different ideals, goals, passions, interests, etc.

Beyond that, in this particular case, age is a factor. Most of the girls I know who married their first loves, their “great love(s)” are woefully unhappy. Imagine being in your mid-to-late twenties, saddled with multiple children, struggling financially (because, regardless of familial wealth or education you began popping out children before you could reasonably support them), and dealing with a mate who has entirely different interests, with whom you can barely carry on a conversation beyond the mundane details of your day and the needs of your kids. Falling in love is great, but there is something to be said for interjecting some thought into the process. We don’t live in a fantasy world and while the wealthy mom, who married later in life the man that her family and friends felt was a good fit, with the two healthy children and the devoted husband may, in her boredom, foster Loman-esque fantasies about how the source of her unhappiness is the lost love and how her life would be so much happier if she had just followed her heart may make for a more compelling story, the brutal reality is that this woman has absolutely no basis to make such a claim and, more times than not, those relationships end up in misery or divorce.* The fact is, in reality life-long relationships are HARD. They require work from both sides and, with all do respect to Mr. McCartney and Mr. Lennon, love is not, in fact, all you need.

[Nothing lessens the negative impact of a horrible life decision like another horrible life decision]

We live in an increasingly stupid, immature, impulsive, selfish, narcissistic culture that is making actually committing to a lifetime with another individual a borderline insurmountable task. I grew up in a loving home with tremendous parents who had an ideal marriage devoid of fights despite a desire to spend a nauseatingly large amount of time together and yet, I waver on whether or not marriage is something I actually want for myself. The guy I was engaged to in my late teens/early twenties was a very good man. He loved me and he stood by me through some very challenging times in my life. I wish him all the happiness in the world, but do I wish we had gone through with the marriage? HELL NO. He’s a sweet kid, but he was not terribly intelligent, he rarely made me laugh, he had no drive or direction in life (quit his job to become a line cook and start a folk band…two months after I bought him his first guitar), he dressed like a pedophile from the 70s, and he referred to my breasts as “boobies”. I don't mean to sound cruel or disparage him and I would never want to speak ill of someone who had such a profound positive influence on my life, but listing the good aspects of the relationship isn't the point. No matter how very deeply I loved him, how much of me still loves him on some level, I physically shudder at the thought of being tethered to him right now. We had absolutely nothing in common besides a love of Star Wars and a few mutual friends and it is painfully obvious now that there was no real future there. As I said, he is an incredibly sweet, strong person and he will make someone very very happy one day. But that person is not me and if that relationship hadn't ended when it did, I’d be miserable now.

[Alright, maybe I'm becoming a *little* cynical...]

The truth is, that for the majority of people, that spark – that all-consuming enthrall – is not sustainable. It either fades over time into a comfortable friendship with sex or it burns out. Hard. So rejecting someone on the basis of a lack of spark is nothing more, in my opinion, than a convenient excuse for those who aren’t yet ready for a commitment (even if they or others have convinced them otherwise). If I do decide that marriage and children is something that I want in the future, I have absolutely no delusions of an epic Tristan and Isolde affair, not because I’m a cynic or because I’m getting on in years, but because those motherf*ckers were what? 14 years-old? I’m an adult. You know what makes my heart flutter as an adult? Someone who reads. Someone who doesn’t do ‘shrooms with the alcoholic chick that lives upstairs and who knows when I’m supposed to change the tires on my car before I inevitably explode them. I don’t need a man to take care of me, I’ll be making doctor money, but I’d like someone who’s employed and ambitious. I want to be with someone who bests me intellectually in at least two subjects, someone with whom I can sustain adult conversations, who will challenge and excite me intellectually as well as sexually. As far as starting a family, I want someone who is on the same page in regards to children (once I figure out if I want them) and how to raise them (if we decide yes…or if birth control becomes illegal). Maybe I won’t feel butterflies or immediately feel that I would give my life for him, but that stuff can grow with the right ingredients. Adult love is based on logic, it may not be terribly romantic, but it certainly isn’t “settling”. If more people realized that, I’d wager to say divorce rates in this world would be a hell of a lot lower.

*Longest run-on sentence ever, or ode to Kerouac? You decide.

The 32-year-old TKE

Over the holidays I caught up with a very good, very old friend of mine who, because he chose to remain anonymous, I will call 'Tobey'. During a long airport pow-wow, Tobey expressed the following sentiment:

Everybody around me is getting married and I feel like I might be ready, but I can’t meet quality girls.


You know how they say ‘you have to be cruel to be kind’? Well, like the last post, this one will be devoid of sugar-coating. Tobey has been out of undergrad for a decade, but still acts like he’s in the frat house. He’s wildly disrespectful to others, especially those women crazy enough to date him and he’s teetering on the edge of being the sad older drunk at the dance club. Openly discussing your girlfriend’s genitals in public is not funny. It’s tacky. Extremely so. While some lesser people may laugh, it’s not with you and everyone not laughing is feeling pity for your girl and wondering what devastating self-esteem issues she has that she’s willing to put up with that sh*t. Furthermore, you still party like its 1999. I’m not making a lame, over-used Prince song reference there. I’m serious, you're the exact same guy you were at 20. When it comes to mentally-balanced, adult women, that type of behavior is wildly unattractive.



No, I don’t drink FourLoko or smoke pot. Why? Because I’m 27, not 17, and I have adult responsibilities and goals that supersede a desire to get wasted. In fact, I’m at an age at which I don’t particularly like to get wasted (I realized that little nugget by the time I was 19). I enjoy remembering my evenings and not feeling nauseous and exhausted the next day. Because I’m a grownup, you see. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy bars or drinking. I’m an American, damn it. One night a week I get together with my girlfriends, down a few cocktails, hit on some guys, and stumble home giggly drunk. I enjoy a good time. After all, I’m single and I’m still in my twenties. But before you cry contradiction, remember I said ‘giggly drunk’ not wasted (I am always in control of my faculties). And ‘one night a week’ is the operative phrase here. It’s a graded scale. And the older I get, the less frequent those giggly nights will become until they ultimately fade into monthly girls' nights in at home splitting a bottle of wine and trying not to wake the kids. [The scary thing about this is how, the older I get, the less this picture scares me].

The truth is, if I meet a man over 30 who still smokes pot and gets blackout drunk, neither I nor any of my self-respecting friends are going to take him seriously as husband material. Come on. It's time to grow up, Peter Pan. But if my next boyfriend is in his early-to-mid thirties and plays beer pong at my friends’ annual Labor Day party, who cares? Graded scale. Partying hard every weekend, using drugs, constantly needing to be in an altered state in order to have fun is - even in your in your teens and early twenties - a sad state. But its at least fairly normal among kids. By the time you reach your late twenties and thirties, if you’re still living this way, it’s not fun. It’s the sign of a substance abuse problem, or failing that, a major disparity between your calendar age and your level of maturity. The characters from movies like Old School and Wedding Crashers are meant to be laughed at as comedic anti-heroes or at best, something to live vicariously through, not to actually be emulated. You try to live your life that way and one day you’re gonna wake up and realize you’re this:




[Sans TLC money and reality fame, this uberdouche couldn’t get laid if he stumbled upon a deaf-blind nymphomaniac convention…which I suddenly find myself wishing was a real thing].

Beyond the way-too-heavy partying there's also the matter of the way you speak to people. And before you or any of the other three people reading this bring up some of the…um…shall we say “off-color” jokes I make with regularity on this blog, there are two major distinctions:

1. I never make crude statements at the expense of people with whom I actually have any platonic or romantic relationships.

2. Location, location, location.

I have never detailed intimate sexual experiences with exes in front of friends and certainly not in front of a significant other. Nor would I ever dream of describing intimate details of my S.O. (sexual or otherwise) in front of others. It’s a matter of respect towards the person you are with. And as far as the crude jokes and foul language often displayed here? It’s the internet, yo, not my cousins bar mitzvah. As lame as it might sound to some, I try to curb my foul language in public because it makes me seem uneducated and crass; I never swear or tell inappropriate jokes in front of my mom or my little nephew; I don’t make jokes about Donatella Versace’s presumed vagina badgers while at work; and on the 15th of this month, when I get all dressed up and head to the Renaissance Hotel for the International Wine Tasting, it is highly unlikely that I will refer to anyone there as a ball bag. It’s not a matter of lacking a dirty side or a good sense of humor. It’s a simple matter of tact. The idea that a woman has to be polite and proper and can’t make sexual jokes has always seemed asinine to me.

[June Cleaver was all about the bukkake jokes after the Beav went to bed].

But no one respects or admires the person who references tentacle rape at office parties. Even Lisa Lampanelli would cast a WTF side-eye at that. Do you see the difference?

For many women, as they stand at the precipice of their thirties, their desires in a mate change from things like ‘washboard abs’ and ‘an ability to hold his Jager’ to things like ‘ambition without avarice’ and ‘a desire to have (or not have) children’. What a woman looks for in a man she wants to marry is vastly different from what she looks for in a man she wants to spend the next few months sleeping with.

You say you want to find someone with whom you can settle down and get married, but at the moment, I’m sorry to say, you’re not really showing that you’re marriage material. You seem immature, irresponsible, and profoundly disrespectful to those around you and none of that appeals to “quality” girls. The truth is, I question whether or not you’re ready for that level of commitment. Just because you've reached a certain age, or everyone else around you is settling down, doesn’t mean you should try to conform to that standard before you’re really prepared for it. Until you are truly ready for serious maturation and serious relationships, the caliber of woman that your friends have is likely going to elude you. And marrying a hard-drinkin, hard-partying girl that is impervious to your immensely disrespectful treatment means that this is the best thing you can hope to greet you down the isle:

[Ugh. Looking at this picture = eye rape].

Personally, I think you need to take some time and really sort your life out. Men are reproductively capable into their sixties. You have nothing to lose from taking your time.


POST SCRIPT:
I suppose I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that there are plenty of girls out there who have ridiculous fantasies of what married life will be like and are borderline obsessed with settling down. You can easily land one of those but be forewarned there’s a…well…mental imbalance issue here. Let me put it this way, (in keeping with my standard of wild generalizations) I can't help but feel like the kind of adult woman who owns a Taylor Swift C.D. is the same kind of woman who, on a third date, will invite you back to her place…to introduce you to her stuffed animal collection.

[This is what happens when ‘cat ladies’ have allergy problems.]

Do you really want to tether yourself to that crazy pole? You're a good guy, Tobey, you've just got some growing up to do.

Don't be Tarvaris Jackson. Tarvaris Jackson doesn't want to be Tarvaris Jackson.

So many of my guy friends (and even more of my girlfriends) have dealt with the following kind of situation, so I feel I need to address it publicly this time. My friend Andy and his girlfriend of 4 years broke up. Why? Because she met someone else she wants to go out with, or as Andy would tell it, “she wants to f*ck a better-looking, older guy with more money than me.” She still texts Andy though, still sends him messages on facebook, and occasionally calls (mostly drunk dials) under the guise that she ‘wants to be friends’. Spoiler alert: she doesn’t. Andy, baby, I’m sorry but…you’re Tarvaris Jackson.

You’re Tarvaris Jackson, he’s Brett Favre. He’s better looking, older, and more popular. He’s been in the game longer and can give her a sense of excitement and boost her status. That being said, he doesn’t play the game the way she’s accustomed to and, being the “new” guy, he does not come with the assumed loyalty and security she has from years with you. You’ve been with her since the 2006 draft and she needs that sense of security. If something goes wrong and Favre needs to be taken off the field (albeit while simultaneously pretending to object to the benching and talking up his woeful injury)

[Oh, how I wish I didn’t have to stop playing just because of this HORRIBLE, UNGODLY PAIN. I will just push through, because I am…the Favre]

or if, God forbid, he were to trade to a new team or finally retire, she still has you – ever loyal, patiently waiting on the bench for your turn to get on the field.

But here’s the thing: do you want to be Tarvaris Jackson?

[Awww. Someone needs a cuddle.]

This woman dumped you after years together so that she could f*ck a better-looking man. Have some self-respect, dude. Would you really want to go back to that? And, if by chance, it doesn’t work out with the other guy (and I assure you she’s still contacting you precisely because of that concern), do you really want the bastardized version of your relationship that will follow? It’s like when you wake up in the middle of a great dream and, while starting to fall back to sleep, you attempt to re-dream it. But it ends up some weird, mutant version of the original dream and for some reason Kirk Douglas and his butler are there throwing butter at your naked ass.

[Just me?]

You can’t push rewind on life. The sense of trust and security on your side of the relationship is broken and it’s not easy to get that back. This woman is unbelievably selfish. She wants the best of both worlds. She gets to embark on a new, exciting relationship and regularly have sex with her new man and, if something goes wrong, she has your weak, pathetic ass sitting at home ready to take her back at the drop of a hat.

Maybe if you had gotten together in high school or something and needed time to find yourselves, but you’re adults and she specifically left you for someone else. Relationships that succeed after break-ups only do so after a great deal of time has passed for self-reflection, and a tremendous amount of effort has gone into resolving those issues that caused it to fail. Issues beyond, ‘she’s a selfish trick who wants to bone someone else without losing you’. From what you’re telling me, this is nothing more than a sanctioned affair. You’re willing to watch as she runs off and repeatedly climbs atop another man so long as, ultimately, she comes home to you.

Wow.

[*to. I feel bad writing that. Misspellings will only add to his self-esteem issues.]

This chick is playing you, and will likely continue to do so until you man up, block the number and click ‘unfriend’. You can’t be friends with an ex immediately following the breakup – especially if you’re not the one who initiated it. If she had any concern for you at all she’d leave you alone. If you end up ignoring this advice and getting back with this girl, be prepared. Because it’s only a matter of time until something better comes along and then you’re back on the sidelines. The bottom line is: this woman doesn’t think you’re good enough. In the end, you’re just a place-holder until the real starter comes along. You deserve better than that. So deal with the pain like an adult and move on. Find someone who thinks you’re the star. I won’t pretend it will be easy. But the right thing never is.

Let's talk about sex: We're still talking about this?

I was raised in a Catholic home by a feminist. Suffice it to say, I am conflicted. My personal sexual neuroses are likely entirely my own and as such, the following few paragraphs may only be of real help if you were trying to sleep with me (giggity). However, being a narcissist, I tend to assume that everyone thinks as I do so I'm going to give you my personal perspective anyway. Hopefully it helps.

[What? I'm a narcissist, not a liar]

As far as I'm concerned, the concept of waiting for marriage is inexorably tied to the concept of women as objects. HOWEVER, that is not to say that intelligent, thoughtful people can’t wait. If that is their choice, more power to them. So long as it is not something that they are indoctrinated to do or forced into based on out-dated and incredibly sexist religious dogma/social standards. Many people I know choose to wait to form sexual relationships until they are married. Many more choose to wait until they are in love. Asserting your equality and making a charge for feminism doesn’t mean one has to open her legs for every guy who catches her fancy (not that I’m judging if she does). Waiting until you love someone does generally equate to better sex. When the intimacy shared between two people goes beyond the physical, there is a deep sense of trust there that allows for a judgment-free (and as such, much more experimental and exciting) environment.

Personally, though love may not be a factor yet, I find a lot of benefits to waiting. Ultimately there are four major factors which generally preclude me from sleeping with strangers:

1. A sense of not wanting to be a notch on anyone’s bed post. This is, admittedly, a flawed perspective originating in a hyper-conservative Catholic upbringing that prevents me from even considering that I take the power to make one a notch on mine.

2. Steadily rising STD rates. If rates continue, by the time I’m 40 around half the US population is going to have herpes. I would prefer to remain in the 50% without oozing genital sores.

3. "If you can't do something right..." One night stands are simply not worth the risk. Sex is better with practice, you need to learn what your partner does and doesn't like and each partner is different. The stench of too much beer pressed against me as a stranger struggles to excite nerves that have been numbed by binge drinking is not an erotic picture.

4.Emotion. Just because I’m somewhat commitment phobic doesn’t mean I don’t develop feelings. Though I may shudder at the thought of a long-term romantic commitment, I would prefer to, at minimum, have my lover remain my friend.

Using sex as an ice breaker may give your hands a rest but, much of the time, it is volatile for your heart. There are many women out there who have no problem separating sex from emotion. Good for them. The majority of women I know, however,feel remarkably different. No matter how much they tell themselves that it won’t mean anything, it almost always does. To any men reading this and rolling your eyes. Don’t. It’s your male ancestors' fault. Chalk this one up to centuries of opression. While you had your concubines, we had armored underpants. As such, it is harder for many women to embrace the free-love concept, no matter how badly we seek to equalize the gender playing field. If you're really pissed off, then the next time you go home to visit, kick your grandpa in the nuts.

[Not too hard, he's a veteran]

Beyond emotional health, waiting a while is beneficial if you are looking for a relationship. As far as I'm concerned, a woman trying to lure a man into a relationship by dropping her panties is just as much a road to catastrophe as coaxing him into a relationship by withholding sex. Jumping into bed with someone right away can seriously impact how a relationship develops.

Generally speaking, the first phase in a relationship is supposed to be the period in which you are getting to know one another – however superficially. It is the time to determine whether or not you are attracted to more than just your partner’s appearance. You’re learning the details of your would-be lover’s life, both past and present, and gaining a basic understanding of who they are. Then comes the rampant, contortionist, animal sex - the period in which you become seemingly incapable of keeping your hands off of each other. When you finally leave the bedroom, you transition into the next phase – the period in which you get to know one another more deeply. You finally see the bad with the good and you build on what you learned at the beginning of the relationship – discover what was pretense and what was genuine – and begin to form a stronger bond. When you skip that first phase, you will have nothing to build upon for the third. You’ve spent however long doing unmentionable things to one another’s unmentionables, and now you’re left with the morning after. And, unfortunately, more often than not, that sunlight reveals a lot that you don’t like.

[It's the morning after that doesn't end]

Basically, not wanting to be a punchline for some skeezy douchebag or have the genitalia of a 1940s Guatemalan psych patient (that wasn't racist it was topical: http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2010/10/01/government-apologizes-s-std-testing-guatemalans/?test=latestnews ) keeps me from going home with guys from the bar. Wanting my romantic relationships to be based on more than just orgasms means it won't be going down on our first date. I can't say for sure which of the many reasons discussed in the last two weeks is preventing that green-eyed brunette with the perfect rack from making hot monkey love with you after 6 shots of tequila

[Yeesh. Nausea, maybe?]

but hopefully this week's series has given you a little insight as to what sex means to (some) girls. And to the loyal female reader: if you have anything to add, I'd love to hear it.Our next few posts will be transitioning back to reader mail, but for now, I'm out. This is cutting into my *ahem* alone time.

Lets talk about sex: Jesus has bigger worries...

Over the past several decades, the prevailing sentiment expressed by mothers trying to convince their daughters to abstain from sex has typically been:

Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

Because I’m not livestock. You’re not “buying” me. Beyond the obvious, this statement gives the indication that I am to be “bought” exclusively for my milk, not because of any other redeeming attributes – my healthy coat, my uplifting moo, the adorable way I chew my cud.

[Awww]

The concept that a woman should wait and give the gift of her virginity to her husband is not romantic. It devalues women. It places everything that we are in our sexuality, and it leads stupid women to hijack skanky men into relationships they don’t really want by withholding sex. Personally, I never fully understood what woman would want to be with someone who is only with her so that he can ultimately get into her panties.

[I haz the buyer's remorse]

This concept is based in religious tradition. Bad religious tradition. I recently separated with the Catholic church over the issue of baby rape, but I still maintain belief in a higher power. I believe in God, but I cannot, as an informed woman, rectify my feminism, faith in science, love of gays, and, again, hatred of baby rape, with the teachings of my church. This is, naturally, also the case when it comes to my own sexuality.

The Church is all over the place when it comes to sex and my arguments against female sexual oppression are much the same as those against the oppression of homosexuals. When people come out against gays by saying that the Bible says that a man shouldn’t lay with another man, I always feel compelled to point out some of the other things it says. Let's look at Deuteronomy for example:

That we should break the neck of a cow at the scene of an unsolved murder (assuming, of course, it happens across city lines). [21:1- 21:6].

That raping a woman is okay if she is your captive and you think you may want to marry her. Of course, you don’t have to. If after the rape you change your mind, simply put the woman back in her cage or sell her (though she's worth less cause you banged her). [21:10-14].

That if a woman is raped in the city and doesn’t scream loudly enough for her neighbors to hear, she should be killed because clearly, she wanted it. [22:23-24].

If your parents weren’t married when you were born, then you are a bastard and you AND your children AND your children’s children (and so on through TEN generations) are not welcome in the church. [23:2].


See? Crazy. And that's just one book.

Interestingly enough, I have been hard pressed to find explicit statements in the Bible against pre-marital sex (Samson was bonin’ tons of bitches in the woods at one point). The only references I found were made in regards to a woman’s value. If you find out your new wife isn’t a virgin you can kill her or give her back to her father to kill (either way you keep the dowry). That’s not really the same thing. It’s more of a Lemon Law for misogynists.

[Don't damage it, dude, you'll only get store credit]

But don’t worry, religious right, I’ll keep reading. Even if I do find something, however, it is highly unlikely that it will change my feelings on the subject. You see, the Bible was written a very long time ago. And, while I will concede that some of the basic tenants are transcendent (those that are shared by all religious faiths, for example), a great deal of the text is abso-fucking-lutely crazy by modern standards.

Yet, for all of my anti-organized-religion proselytizing, I still cower in fear of an unknown deity and second-guess my life decisions as a result. Because, as with prevailing social mores, deeply ingrained religious teachings don't disappear overnight. The two people who mean most to me in the world - the ones who have never lied to me, who always sought to protect me, who brought me into this world and taught me how to navigate it - are the ones who took me to the church that instilled these beliefs in me. That is an incredibly powerful thing. Despite growing intellectualism and acknowledgement that so much of what I was taught is obviously wrong, there will always be an underlying sense of fear in me, a part of me that worries that I haven't ostracized enough single moms to get into a heaven that may or may not exist. It may not be enough to have kept me a virgin personally, but it does further that "golf score" mentality.

[Purgatory's not all bad. Apparently you get to play naked 7-Up ]

Thus, it's easy to see that someone who doesn't share my doubts and intellectual curiosities will easily take a hands-off approach to their bodies. The fact is that the vast majority of Americans identify strongly with a religious faith, with most following a judeo-christian or muslim model. Even if someone is is not personally religious, the fact cannot be ignored that these religious principles have, for better or worse, guided how our and many other societies developed (many would argue that's why they were created in the first place). So even if the girl you're after is not personally religious, the influence of western religion is the basis of nearly all of the social mores earlier discussed. Until we can all collectively separate the good aspects of spiritualism from the crazy stuff, the official word of God is going to be "c-block".

Lets talk about sex

Apart from just not being attracted to you…

[Eh, I’ve dated worse].

one obvious reason a woman won’t sleep with you is that she doesn’t want to be a “slut” or a sexual object. Eons of sexual and social oppression doesn’t disappear in a matter of decades.

[Sorry, ladies, but this just ain’t gonna cut it].

I have many strong, sexually liberated friends, two or three of whom claim to have been with close to a hundred men each [presumably not at the same time]. But even the toughest amongst them still winces at words like “slut”, “whore”, and “ho”. They’re smart enough to know that no intelligent man would ever degrade a woman for her sexual choices. But it’s not just the word or who it’s coming from, it’s what it means – undesirable as anything else.

[Professor fiddy says “can’t make a ho a housewife.” He also tweets “My grandma pregnant again trying to talk her out of keeping it” (not sure how that last part applies, but I don’t want to silence his genius)].

Obviously any man who uses these words or believes such an adage is an insecure p*ssy that no self-respecting woman would want, but it still creates an environment of fear for many girls. That judgment by others for doing something could prevent you from finding a desirable mate in the future is one of many reasons that a lot of girls follow a different adage: “keep it like a golf score”.

Too many offers

It’s only natural for you, when you go out to a bar, to look at us as conquests and objects. There are exceptions, of course, but the man asking the question wanted to know why women wouldn’t bone him, so, addressing him, I think I’m safe in my generalization. The truth is that, when we go out, there is a constant stream of dudes vying to feel us from the inside.

[Sexual harassment Panda gets all the ladies cause he knows how to respect boundaries].

If a woman is insecure, she may enjoy the attention, but ultimately, it’s exhausting. It’s nice to feel sexually attractive, but after guy after guy talks to her breasts, tries to touch her face [Ed. Note: Do not ever touch a stranger’s face], or asks her back to his place, one starts to feel degraded and worthless. No one goes to a bar to meet their soul mate, but try to remember that even if the girl you’re chatting up is the first girl you’ve seen all night, you’re likely the tenth guy that day who has tried to bang her. It gets old. Even as a man in your horny prime, it would start to take a toll if roles were reversed.

[In the immortal words of Milhouse “I’m a human [girl] I have feelings"].

As such, sex has a value. For golddiggers and other professional whores the value is monetary, but for the rest it is emotional. Women who withhold sex do so to get something out of it. For some, it is simply an assurance that you actually have to talk to us and recognize our values as complete human beings. For other, sadder people, it is the basis of how they form entire relationships (often marriages…sick, poorly-founded marriages). Finding more liberated women who only want you for the night is not impossible. As social mores change, it is an increasingly easy task. But for many of us, the remnants of past oppression linger, and the desire to be seen completely takes on an increased significance with every cocktail thrown our way and…well…we’re not giving it up without a fight.