To explain to an audience who knows nothing about me: I have dated horrible people. Horrible, just awful. I’ve been cheated on more times than I can count, gotten yelled at once for being sick, and have thrown away more money than I wish to admit trying to repair each and every one of these doomed relationships.
If we’re going to get technical about it, then yes, I can say I have a type that I’m attracted to. Because I’m kind of a loser, I’ve made a list of every girl I’ve kissed, slept with, dated, and loved. There are roughly 15. Hooray for me, right? Out of these 15, ten have been brunettes. Typically under 5’6’’, usually with bangs, always the type of person who would be considered “cute.” Out of those 10, I’ve been in love with seven. Of those seven, four have come from broken homes, enjoyed punk rock, and lost their shit at the drop of a pin. Out of those four, three of them had the middle name Jean. That’s the weirdest part to me, albeit a coincidence, but weird nonetheless. Also of interest to me are the wildcards who don’t quite fit into, um, any categories at all. Out of those wildcards, there were four outliers who made quite an impression on me. They were as follows… Keep reading »
I’m about one more “and then he came inside me” away from blowing my brains out.
I’m a sex enthusiast, perhaps even a connoisseur on the matter. I peruse publications about sex, participate in deep conversations on the act, and occasionally even engage in the monstrous business. But for fuck’s sake, if I have to read another article about unprotected sex, I’m going to jump off a bridge.
This all started a few years ago when I was reading Vice magazine, specifically the section “People Who Just Had Sex With Each Other.” It’s a column in which an interviewer talks to a couple who just had sex and asks them intimate questions about that particular love-making session. This one painfully hip couple were giving an account of their intimate nudie-sesh. They talked about the foreplay: touching each other’s business, licking each other’s things, fingering each other’s hoo-has. All normal stuff. Then the girl talks about how the guy came inside of her because she was on her period. They had just met the previous week, yet were already at the stage where they could, not only have period sex, but have unprotected period sex. Imagine taking the red ski lift into cream-village with a complete stranger like it’s not even a big deal. I just remember sitting back in my chair and thinking about all the new STD’s that could be swimming inside of their hipster bods. Keep reading »
With all this fine literature along the lines of I’m Beautiful and I Hate It! circling the Internet, I’ve felt it’s my time to chime in with my point-of-view on the subject. But how does one comment on their level of attractiveness without putting out the vibe that they’re a self-obsessed jughead dingbat or, worse, starving for attention? As I walked around my apartment, glancing at my reflection in various shiny household objects, the answer came to me: Honesty.
See, the problem with a lot of the articles making the rounds are their lack of total honesty. Of course, I don’t think they’re lying. I know these attractive people truly believe they’re beautiful, but what’s missing for me is how beautiful they think they are, or aren’t. So for the sake of integrity, I’d like to talk about how attractive I think I really am. Keep reading »
Late last month, in the midst of several recent and prominent examples in the steady stream of stories about the challenges that women in the tech industry face, Complex.com published its list of “The 40 Hottest Women In Tech.” Tone deaf move, fellas! People were understandably upset. Maybe if it had been published a month or two earlier or later, a big website that caters explicitly to the libidos of straight dudes tossing up a list that ranks accomplished women on a scale of “hotness” would have just been another eye-rolling example of the sort of overt-yet-casual sexism that women in the industry (and many others) have to deal with on a regular basis. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. The author of the piece, Luke Winkie, went to The Daily Beast to explain why he’d taken the assignment and how, after his editors got their hands on it, it didn’t turn out the way that he’d planned.
Luke is my friend, and I know the position he was in: Dude is a young freelancer who got offered almost a month’s rent to write something that he knew was kind of shitty. He thought that he could make that shitty thing a little bit better (he wrote at the Beast that he “got the idea that maybe we could make a list called ‘The Hottest Women In Tech’ sound as earnest and empowering and good-hearted as it could possible be”), and then it didn’t work out. I’m not here to defend the guy – he can do that himself – but I can relate, because I had been in similar positions in the past. When you’re a straight, white, cisgender dude who benefits materially from living and working in a sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic society, it’s easy to overestimate the amount of power you have. Keep reading »
The best way to define what is “sexy” is to first define what is not sexy. Duck face? Not sexy. Fake tans? Not sexy. Internet think pieces about how some young woman making millions in the public aquarium isn’t sexy? Not sexy AND IRONIC.
Lena Dunham’s character Hannah in “Girls” is sexy. Apparently this is a thing that has to be written. She combusts with sexual energy and heartbreaking vulnerability — she simultaneously claws out of and slinks around comfortably in her tattooed skin. Keep reading »
Let’s say you and your significant other are having an issue—one that isn’t a relationship killer, but is serious enough that it can’t be ignored. How do you deal with it?
Here’s what I do: I go into a mental huddle. I sit down, by myself, and I replay the situation in my head. I think about what exactly I might be frustrated with, what would need to happen for this frustration to go away, and what steps I can take to get myself there. Next, I think about what the issue might be for her, what exactly she might be frustrated with, and what an acceptable solution might be for her. From there, I decide how best to tackle the issue. Only then am I ready to talk about it. Keep reading »
Let’s talk for a minute about the “friendzone.”
Don’t worry, fellas, this isn’t a lecture. It’s an advice column, because there is something you deserve to know: There is a very simple, nigh-foolproof way to avoid ending up in the situation that that exceptionally loaded word describes.
And I will tell you what it is. Keep reading »
Today, December 7th, marks the one-year anniversary of my first date with Melissa.
I wish I could say that I knew from our very first date that this was going to be something special. That the moment I saw her, I was smitten. That our first date was the most amazing date I’d ever been on, full of spontaneous fun and spark-filled exhilaration.
I wish I could say all that. But I’d be lying.
Our first date went well, but honestly, it wasn’t anything spectacular. I certainly can’t say that it stood out above every other first date I’ve been on. Even the circumstances of our meeting weren’t very fairy tale-like. Keep reading »
Do you know how, on job applications, they always ask if you’ve ever been arrested? And then they invariably follow it up with, “If yes, please explain?”
Do you ever get the feeling that if you write “yes” on the first blank, there is absolutely nothing you can write on the second that will save your application from a permanent trip to the reject pile?
Well, there’s one relationship question that I believe operates under the same premise. That question is: “Have you ever cheated on someone?”
Sure, you can answer yes and try to explain. You can stutter and stall all you want. But, the moment your mouth starts to make that “y…” sound, your forehead will immediately be stamped with a giant, red “CHEATER” in indelible ink.
So, I’ll confess now. Yes, I’ve cheated on a girlfriend. Stamp away. But, I’m still going to give my grand explanation. Keep reading »