I don’t know who tweets more on Twitter, men or women, but I’ve come to suspect the genders use the social media platform differently. Women like to tweet about their feelings, connect with other people, and gossip. And men? Here are the top 10 reasons men are on Twitter, and, yes, one of them involves a stripper. Keep reading »
It’s time to talk about that awful guy you dated for way longer than you care to admit. We want the story. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all done it. And I firmly believe that having a bad boyfriend is the key to appreciating a good one. After the jump, Frisky staffers open up about the bad boys from our dark pasts. We’re really, really happy these relationships are over. Your turn to share! Keep reading »
Yes, I’ve got another new boyfriend. This time, it’s Rob Evans, seen here doing the runway thing at Jeremy Scott during New York Fashion Week. I’m not sure what my favorite thing is about this outfit: the chap shorts, the leather vest, the penis hammock. In any case, I can’t find diddly on my new man other than more proof that he is hot. And what else is there to know, really? [Style.com] Keep reading »
Happy Hump Day! Today, we’d like to hump Tyler Stokes. Isn’t he pretty? We think he’s pretty. We wonder if he’s wearing pants. Probably not! Tyler is 21 (!), comes from Baton Rouge, Louisiana (I’ve been there, so it’s practically like we’re sleeping together already), and he is either an actor or trying to be an actor. I am sure he is a wonderful actor. The next Brad Pitt, without a doubt. Also, he says: “I work hard but I know how to have a good time.” And I think we all know what that means. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Eh, well, a blogger can dream. Keep reading »
When a man gets into a relationship, he’s usually the last to know.
Women fall in love, men slip on it. Women gently twirl down the rabbit hole of love like whirligigs, landing on their feet in a land of wonder. But for men, love is a sudden minor concussion. One moment, we’re strolling down the street like a Pharoah in no hurry, snapping our fingers, whistling a jaunty tune. Maybe we’re leaving the apartment of a recent conquest early in the morning. Women call this the “Walk of Shame.” But to the male species, it’s called the “I Just Got Laid Parade.” Or maybe we’re just walking over to the beer store, smugly satisfied with ourselves for not immediately texting some chick back. Because no one owns the male spirit – it’s like a bacon-scented wind. We’re wild game you can’t tame, oh yeah. Then an ambush of unwanted emotions happens. Love is a banana peel. We wake up on our backs with a throbbing skull, swatting away clouds of mosquito-sized hearts buzzing around.
At least women look before they leap. Keep reading »