This year did not disappoint when it came to sex headlines. In 2012, I learned a lot of new and important (I’m not sure if “important” is quite the right word, but I’m going with it) lessons. I’m still trying to make sense of it all, but let’s review what I’ve absorbed thus far. There was just so much…
We’ve had lots of boyfriends who we’ve had to remind to wash their hands before they put them anywhere near our vaginas. Don’t they know that dirty paws cause yeast and bacterial infections, or, on the off chance that he’s been chopping jalepenos, a fucking wildfire down there? These are the kinds of thing that people with penises don’t seem to understand. They think we’re molly coddling our coochies, being precious about our privates, but vadges really are temperamental.
Because of germs and jalepenos and general man hand dirtiness, we humbly request that the Invention Gods create a biometric hand sanitizer so boys could scan their hands and be germ/jalepeno/whatever-free within seconds. How much more fun would that make sex? A lot more, we think.
Click onward for some more sexventions that we think would revolutionize our sex lives.
I’ve been looking in the mirror for the past several weeks, noticing for the first time, that my forehead has perma-wrinkles. I keep slathering on moisturizer, as if dousing my face in enough cream will somehow make those fine lines disappear (news flash, it won’t).
Growing older is the pits — it sneaks up on you without warning and suddenly you look like a saggy faced, scowl-y version of your former self. So in the interest of commiseration, we’ve compiled a list of the 17 absolute most annoying things about aging. Check out our list after the jump, and then share yours in the comments.
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You think you’ve seen the worst of them, but the bad mothers of this world just keep one-upping each other. Whatever grievances you have with your mom, know that these daughters’ mommy issues are way, way worse. We extend our condolences. Seriously. We’ve rounded up the most appalling mothers of the year and the unfortunate daughters who had to endure them.
After every breakup, I spend time — copious amounts of time, too much goddamn time – pouring over every detail, trying to figure out what I did wrong this time. I call this “taking personal responsibility.” My best friend calls it “spiraling.” Leaving yoga class this weekend, my voice trembling and defeated, I declared about my recent breakup: “It’s my fault. I pick the wrong men.”
This is when my best friend started laughing at me. Hysterically. “You’re spiraling,” she said. “I’m only going to say this once: You did nothing wrong. He wasn’t right for you, and you both acknowledged that as soon as you knew it. You did everything right. So, I refuse to listen to you if you’re going to blame yourself. You need to stop.”
She was right. I was being ridiculous. It’s no wonder my first instinct is to blame myself. The culture of single blaming and shaming is pervasive. I think the world tends to forget: being coupled is not an achievement. Not being coupled is not a failure. Being in a relationship, getting married, shacking up, call it whatever you want, is a life choice, born of opportunity. It’s two people being in the right place at the right time and wanting the same things. It’s an opportunity that’s seized. While a solid relationship can make you grow as a person, the mere fact that you’re coupled does not make you a better person.
Earlier that morning, a married friend of mine sent me a link to Tracy McMillian’s articles Why You’re Not Married and the charming follow up Why You’re Still Not Married. “Have you seen these? What do you think?” she asked. “They seem offensive.” Keep reading »
Ho, ho, ho! Who would have thought that jolly ‘ol Saint Nick would inspire anything remotely sexual? Just a quick sleigh ride through the Urban Dictionary and we’ve discovered that Santa is sliding down chimneys and into bedrooms. This Christmas, you may want to stuff one of these in your partner’s stocking. Depending on how naughty or nice they’ve been…
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