I’ve never been afraid to ask for what I want in bed. The idea that some women can’t ask for what they want, or don’t know what they want in the first place, is foreign to me.
However, I’m well-aware that I may not be in the majority here. Guys have told me other women become self-conscious when asking for something risqué or kinky — and that’s a crying shame. Sexual relationships (any relationships, actually) thrive when you know what you want and can communicate it effectively to your partner clearly. Therefore, I would love to help you out, boys and girls, more so than I already did with my piece “5 Moves Women Love In Bed, But Can Be Too Afraid to Ask For.” (And I apologize for how heteronormative this advice is, but my only sexual partners have been dudes!)
Men, don’t pressure anything here, of course — but if you offer, you may be pleasantly surprised at how enthusiastically she accepts … Keep reading »
Mean girls happen. They happen at 9 years old on the playground. At 21 years old in the sorority. They happen in blockbuster Lindsay Lohan movies.
And for me, they happened when I was 27. Keep reading »
I came late to appreciating chivalry, which I have written about on The Frisky before. For most of my life, chivalry made me uncomfortable. I’ve always identified as a feminist and Third Wave feminism generally is pretty frosty towards traditional gender roles. But moreso than being a feminist, I felt the same way a lot of modern women (who may or may not identify as feminists) do in that I felt pride of my ability to take care of myself better than my mother can take care of herself. I pay my own bills, I know how to change a tire on a car, I buy my own technology, etc. etc.
However, as I grew older and had more life experiences and more serious relationships, I realized that I liked being treated chivalrously. Some of it is that I like the outward displays of both respect and affection; as a person whose job entails the reading of many nasty Internet comments about my beliefs/life choices/appearance, those little loving moments are golden.
Keep reading »
Last month, my boyfriend Patrick and I drank a bottle of Jim Beam at the lake and decided to get married. When we peeled our faces off a sticky, half-deflated air mattress the next morning, we asked ourselves two questions: first, did we still want to get married, and second, how about some Taco Bell? Yes to both, thank you.
Eventually the time came for parental phone calls, and mine were excited and curious: where would our wedding be? When? Several minutes into the call, I heard my mom muse, almost absent-mindedly, “Andrea Hislastname ….” She didn’t ask if I would be changing my last name; she simply said what she believed my new name would be, just to see how it rolled off her tongue.
Patrick’s family did ask about changing my name, at least. And I told them: no, I’m not changing my name. For that matter, neither is Patrick. Of course, most folks would never think to ask if a guy might change his name upon marriage. It’s just not done in this country — and once I learned why, I became more sure than ever that I would never be anyone but Andrea Grimes. Keep reading »
As long as I can remember, I haven’t liked change. I preferred to be unhappy or uncomfortable in routine rather than try something new because I was scared or didn’t know the outcome.
In 2009, after two years in non-profit media, rather than look for something new that put my journalism degree to use, I jumped at the chance of a promotion within the company.
Fast forward to 2011, and I was deeply unhappy with my position in Development. Keep reading »