“Tell me what you want to do to me,” I cooed in Brandon’s* ear. It was our first time in bed together and I was hoping he would pass my “dirty talk test.” The test is simple. I ask the man what he wants to do to me and he responds with his own special brand of dirty talk. Easy, right? Not always so simple.

It’s easier to get the little head than the big head in the game. But the problem is, I only want to have sex with a man when both heads are present. I want him to understand that my pleasure takes place first in my mind and then in my body. And if he can’t stimulate my mind, he has a very slim chance of stimulating anything on my body. Sure he can fumble his way around and accidentally push a button, but why bother? I know some people don’t like to talk; they just like to “do.” But for me it’s not enough.

No one on earth is quite as pleased as a man who has just pleased a woman between the sheets. We love the care and attention you’ve paid to us for our own benefit, but we also love watching you bask in self-satisfaction. But as satisfied as you might be with yourself, sometimes we’re not quite as satisfied as you’d hoped: something relatively minor, but highly distracting, was a bit “off.”

Don’t be offended, darlings, but a few nips and tucks in your bedroom style might speed things along (in a good way)—leaving us more time for another go at it!

Last week, our Catherine totally skeeved all of us, which I might add is not an easy task, with 20 Words That Gross Us Out More Than “Moist.” Seriously, ew! It’s bad enough to hear a funky word in your day-to-day life, but what about when you’re trying to keep things sexy? You don’t want to say something icky when you’re naked. That’s why we’ve compiled a list of no-no words for once you’ve said “yes.” Let’s do it, down and dirty with 36 words you should never ever say ... in bed!

I’ve learned a lot of things from the women in my life. How to appreciate wine, do my own taxes, not be a douchebag. And because of them, I am a fan of Pinot Noir, keep a shoebox of receipts, and am a fan of Pinot Noir. But more on this later.

Sex without dirty talk is a bland affair, like chicken nuggets without the hot mustard. Without that whispered verbal communication and the trust that goes with it, body and mind aren’t connected. No, I’m not getting all Deepak Chopra all up in this joint. Sex is a brain thing as much as a skin thing. Without uncensored, honest, blushing dirty talk in bed (or the backseat, stairwell, or under the kitchen table) there is no way to find out if she needs it faster or slower. You’d never learn that she likes her hair pulled to the left, while you softly kiss her jaw line on the right side of her face. Apparently, there’s a world of difference between a flick and a pinch. These are important facts, and the reverse is true when you’re with your man.

I met him through mutual friends, and I noticed him immediately because he looked like my ex-best friend—but, like, a way hotter version of the ex-BFF. We hung out a few times, and one night, after some drunken bonding over tattoos and the psychological and scientific validity of the art of pickup, he asked if I was coming home with him, and I said yes.

What I was looking for at the time was a fun, casual fling with someone I could be friendly with—without it turning into anything emotional. Neither of us were into having a relationship, and I knew that he was seeing someone else casually, too. He was smart and sarcastic and seemed like the type to bottle up his feelings and never reveal them to me. I thought it was the perfect setup.

People have been doing it since the dawn of time.  In fact, it’s the alluring, torrid, mind-blowing, all-consuming sex explosion that has spawned our entire existence as a species!  While over the years, thanks to technological and social advances, we’ve improved upon the original biological need with things like latex, handcuffs, key parties, dirty talk, and general smut, what went up, must now come down. According to an article MSNBC published just today, “trendy sex” is over.  So, you can stop lamenting that you didn’t get a webcam for Christmas, because all of a sudden, nobody cares?! After decades of topping off vanilla sex with all kinds of goodies, have people lost their taste for kink?

Dirty talk is an acquired taste. Like oysters, or caviar. Sure, maybe at first bite, dirty talk can seem a little awkward, even unsavory to some. But like a kalamata olive, it grows on you. And soon enough you’re ordering Greek salads like it’s your job and dirty talking like you never owned a copy of Emily Post’s Etiquette. I am not criticizing such behavior. Something about glass houses and stones and throwing them. I dirty talk. I like it. I do it all the time. I want to hear it. There. I said it. As cleanly as I know how. 

I was newly on the rebound (read: heartbroken), and had been invited by a friend who knew the deal to a downtown hipster party full of sexy, artsy guys. I proceeded to immediately knock back a few free drinks, then flirt my way through the throngs of smart artistes. One struck my fancy, with his Southern drawl, earnest voice, and red hair. He was sweet, and super talented, and cute in a non-overpowering way. I knew he liked me, but he wasn’t putting the hard sell on getting in my pants. So of course I went home with him.

We got to his apartment and tipsily made out, and soon our clothes were off. I got on top of him and we started having sex. Now, I’m a talkative girl whether I’ve been drinking or not, and one of the places I love to run my mouth is in the bedroom. I don’t remember exactly what I said—the sex wasn’t that earth-shattering—but I know there were a few “That feels good”s and whisperings of his name. I’d thought he was having just as good a time as I was, until we talked the next day.

“Ugh, the guy I have been dating will not shut the hell up during sex! He’s always directing me (“do this…do that”) or giving a play-by-play of every second (‘I love seeing your breasts bounce, blah blah blah’).  How do I politely tell him to BE QUIET?”—Wishing I Was Deaf, via email
Ugh…that would drive me crazy! For me, talking non-stop in bed is like talking in the movies…totally uncalled for and annoying. But some chicks are super into it, and that’s probably why this guy you’re dating does it. An ex of his probably said, “Oooh, yeah. Tell me what you’re doing to me right now. Talk dirty to me!”, and he decided to work it into his sexual arsenal. All it takes it one girl to eff it up for the rest of us.
Go ahead and undo the damage caused by that beyatch and tell him talking during sex makes you feel weird. Tell him you’re not used to it and it takes your focus away from him. If he doesn’t understand or like what you’re saying, then you might be too late to save this one.

Maybe you’ve never admitted it out loud, but we all have the capacity to be cruel. The Bad Girlfriend has the capacity and then some. She’s a friend of ours who we love for being trustworthy and smart, funny and exceedingly loyal…to her girlfriends, that is. But boyfriends? That’s another story. We pity the fools who end up on her arm—give it a few months, a year, even three, and suddenly they won’t know what hit ‘em. We don’t expect you to love her, but we do expect that you may, begrudgingly, see a bit of yourself in her bad deeds.

There are many times in life when you get busted for doing something wrong and freeze -up in fear— you know that feeling when your heart seems to stop, a wave of hot panic washes over you, and your bladder control muscles stop working properly? This can happen anytime, such as when you’re 14 and get caught smoking by your principal, or when security guards stop you at the front door of the mall when you have an unpaid for sweater balled up in your bag. (Ok, maybe that was just me.) But nothing will prepare you for having this feeling when you’re in the middle of having sex. There’s only really one thing that can cause this panic: calling out the wrong person’s name in the middle of the deed.

Bad dates suck. But let’s face it, after a certain length of time, they can be pretty funny in retrospect. In honor of the grand tradition of laughing uproariously at disastrous dates, we’re taking submissions for The Bad Date Hall Of Fame. Send yours to tips@thefrisky.com – and if we publish yours, we’ll send you a pair of Frisky underpants. After the jump, a bad date shows up wasted, doesn’t pay for his BLT-dinner, and engages in weird pedophile dirty talk.