I recently made a gay joke, and I should know better. Actually, I made two, and one of the jokes backfired. For guys, the term “gay” is an adjective that means “not masculine.” Chamomile tea? Gay. “Wicked: The Musical”? Gay. Capri pants? Gay. In the new bombshell Rolling Stone article about General Blabber and his knitting circle of kvetching combat hens, one of his aides refers to a diplomatic meeting with the French as “gay,” as if the talks were to be conducted with mimes wearing pink berets. I’ll kindly remind that while the French can be over-intellectualizing flowers, they did manage to invent the fist execution machine, write the blueprint for the modern military dictator, and ran a colonialist, mercenary army. Not to mention, inspire the first cartoon skunk rapist.
“That’s so gay” is an insult, a pop cultural punch-line, and a casual, socially acceptable form of prejudice. Prejudice is fear on the offense. It will never cease to amaze me how even the beefiest, baldest, baseball-cap wearing frat-beast is utterly terrified, and convinced, that every gay man in a half-mile radius has a zombie hunger for his junk. To be fair, it’s terror, and just a little bit of vanity … that traditionally feminine vice. Keep reading »
Recently, it has come to my attention that there are women out there curious about the self-love habits of the male species. (Specifically, a Frisky staffer who will probably get angry if I give her a shout-out in this post.) Since I have opined about female masturbation, it seems only fair that I pontificate on the mysteries of men self-pleasuring. As The Frisky’s houseboy/wizard/testosterone consultant, I feel it is my responsibility to explain such things. But first things first: your boyfriend or husband masturbates. No, this doesn’t mean you’re not satisfying him in bed. Tsk-tsk, it’s not always about you. This just means he has a penis, and some time to kill. Remember, female orgasms are tiny little atomic blasts. Male orgasms are more like Roman candles. Which we buy in bulk. Keep reading »
According to highly scientific polls, 15 percent of women think staring is cheating, 45 percent have tried the “fingernail” diet, and 99 percent rate a sense of humor as the sexiest trait a man can have (the remaining 1 percent picked “sparkle”). When such pop statisticians ask men the same question, they usually respond “boobs.” Judging from this inequality of opinion, one could conclude that women are selfless flowers who find self-awareness attractive and that men are shallow. This is not entirely untrue. That women prize a guy who can laugh at himself and all the unpredictable absurdities that life throws at you is great news to bros with bellies who can belch the melody to “Paparazzi.” I like to think of this as an evolutionary gift; otherwise, the females of the species would have been left having to choose equally matched mates by their ability to fling poop. Keep reading »
The best part of a breakup is wallowing. There are five stages immediately following a breakup, and they aren’t denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. They are as follows: shock, blubbering, wallowing, staring blankly at walls, and finally, dancing. The final stage is usually preceded by a music montage featuring upbeat adult contemporary music, a shopping spree, and a night out with your best slutty friend. But of all these stages, the one I enjoy the most is wallowing. It’s the best part of breaking up or getting dumped, because there is no such thing as a “mutual breakup.” That concept is strictly for the press. One party always wants the breakup a little more than the other party. Not that I’m advocating dramatic split-ups that resemble NASCAR fireballs. But one person is always left sniffing a forgotten, leftover sleeping shirt, searching for a whiff of their lover’s familiar funk. The wishbone never cracks completely in two. Keep reading »
“Sex and the City” is female wish fulfillment. But then again, “Iron Man” is male wish fulfillment. Women wish they could wear haute couture; men wish they could wear a flying robot suit. But such daydreams are just the candy shell of the Blow Pop. The bubblegum at the center isn’t that different from many of my favorite manly movies and television shows. The evil Emperor called Luke Skywalker’s faith in his friends his greatest weakness. But it was Skywalker’s greatest strength; the “Star Wars” movies are about friendships, loyalties, fighting monsters with people who will watch your back no matter what. Likewise, “Sex and the City” is a big wish: that we are not alone in our life’s adventure. You can’t choose your family. Romantic love is fleeting. Friends are forever. Keep reading »