I have never met a woman who thought she was bad in bed. I have known plenty of women who can rattle off an impromptu, critical dissertation on the carnal failings of most men. “He didn’t get me off.” “He treated my nipples like Xbox control sticks.” “He came before his pants were off.”
No, not all women are great in bed. Is the onus on dudes to break the bedsprings? I say no. It is both of our responsibilities to be the best lay possible. There are women who kick back Cleopatra-style and dare their men to please them. Women who use men like giant, hairy vibrators, and women who are so eager to please, it can be overwhelming. Keep reading »
1. I think I’m awesome, but seriously, why do you think I’m awesome?
2. I can speak dolphin. Which is how I help them.
3. I don’t have a driver’s license and I don’t know how to drive a car. But I know how to drive the ladies wild and I have a license to freak, freak you sweet and spicy, freak you like a jungle cat made out of lava.
4. I write poetry. Here’s a sample, “She walks in beauty, like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies/And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meets in her aspect and her eyes.” I just made that up, right now, on the spot.
5. Yes I can, did, will, etc. Keep reading »
A sensitive guy’s emotional availability is decorative, a means by which to exploit a woman’s weakness for men who are not total beer-powered, boxer shorts wearing Guitar Heroes with mommy issues and 18 gigabytes of porn hidden in a computer file named “Unicorns.” This sort of dude displays his sensitivity with emo mixtapes, passionate rants on fluffy political issues like being pro-bunny rabbit or anti-death from shrapnel, and professions of understanding the subtle intricacies of the female heart. Keep reading »
I think I might be a sexist. But since most of you are vagina-enabled, I’ll let you tell me. Many of you possess testicles, as well, and I’ll invite you to chime in, too. To those who have both: All are welcome here.
I’m not proud of the fact that I might be sexist, but it seems more honest to say so than declaring that I’m a feminist. Which I’m not. I’m having a tough enough time trying to figure out how to be a righteous dude. I suppose the best contribution I can make to the struggle for gender equality is to try and be a better man. I can’t allow myself to politicize my inner-struggles, to become, as Gandhi said, the change I want to see in the world. So, yeah, I’m not a feminist, and I might be a sexist. But better I be aware of that, than ignorant to the prejudices that make me oh-so human. And that’s the best I can do. Keep reading »
A couple of years ago, a friend of mine came to me for advice, and I think the advice I gave him was pretty good advice, if I do say so myself. Because when it comes to love and relationships, those who can, do. Those who can’t give love and relationship advice.
My friend had just proposed to his girlfriend. The wedding promised to be epic, “Vegas-style” and planned with Pentagon-like precision. The sort of wedding where you wouldn’t be surprised if a trained monkey dressed like a butler exploded out of a 17-tier wedding cake, holding a smaller, 10-tier wedding cake, as fireworks exploded, and an ABBA cover band parachuted in next to the champagne glass pyramid, while howling “Take A Chance On Me.” No expense spared. Keep reading »
Go ahead and have sex on the first date if you want. If it feels good, do it. Ruin yourself. Get your rocks off. Surrender to chemistry, drink, irresponsibility. Indulge in the passion, throw caution to the wind, make a big sloppy mess of your love life. Your prince might not call you back if you rail him in the bathroom stall or after he slinks out of your apartment while you’re sleeping. If that happens, cry and wail! Just know that reports of the fragility of the human heart are greatly exaggerated. Keep reading »
Blow jobs are overrated. There. I said it. I know men who would fight a grizzly bear with a spork for a little mouth love. I also know women who guard their oral sexing technique the way a pharmaceutical company protects its most precious patents. But I’m just not a dude who loves blow jobs. I’m an active guy, when it comes to being intimate with a woman, and laying back and letting her go down on me has always felt passive to me. Disconnected. As if I could lean back and read the Economist or slurp a bowl of soup while being, uhhh, serviced. Keep reading »
We here at The Frisky live for celeb gossip, chocolate, and your comments. What can we say, you bitches crack us up! So in honor of you, our smart, sexy, and incisive readers, who aren’t afraid to talk smack on the Internet, we’re giving away prizes! Each week well award five of you an awesome internet chatty Cathy’s a little something special. This weeks winner’s will receive the classic flapper handbook, Live Alone And Like It! So, without further adieu, here are the lucky winners of this week’s Commenter’s Ball…
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Some of you might have heard of or read Neil Strauss’ The Game, a fawning book about a silver tongued Casanova who goes by the mysterious code-name Mystery. Probably many more of you have seen ridiculously dressed beanpole Mystery tutor his homoerotic boy-cult on Vh1′s reality show “The Pick-Up Artist.” Is it just me or does he look like cross between a Las Vegas magician and a Dr. Seuss character? What you don’t know is if you know a guy who’s signed up for a class in picking up women (like New York’s “The Art of Charm”) or sloppily employed the social tools taught in these classes, written about in books, or demonstrated on television shows. Keep reading »
Before I reveal the secret reason men love strip clubs, I’d like to directly address all the “cool” and “open-minded” women out there who insist on accompanying their boyfriends and husbands to jiggle joints: stay home. I appreciate your enlightened attitude towards dude culture, and your bad girl enthusiasm, like when you whoop it up with a stripper, publicly dabbling in hetero-flexibility for your man. But really, you’re not declaring yourself a pansexual pioneer, proving how laid-back and awesome you are to your man’s salivating bro-dawgs. You’re keeping tabs on your boyfriend or husband and you know it.
So why is it that guys love strip clubs — even guys who totally xoxo their rock star girlfriends? There’s the obvious answer: to look at nekkid boobs that aren’t the boobs attached to the rock star girlfriends they totally xoxo. Keep reading »