“Excuse me, why do you have the sour bug?”
That’s what a guy once said to me in a bar. I know, I know; you’re totally swooning. If you’re a woman and you’re alive, chances are you’ve been hit on by a Pickup Artist (commonly known as PUAs), by this method known as “negging.”
I always thought of PUAs as nightclub prowlers, dressed like they rummaged through a clown’s closet, decked out in Ed Hardy, looking like a cross between Steven Tyler and The Situation from “Jersey Shore.” I often wondered, Who are these supposed women who found men donning sparkly scarves, multiple rings, and fingerless, leather gloves attractive? I imagine they are the same types of women who still think George Michael is straight. I thought of PUAs as full of canned come-ons, the smell of desperation wafting off of them like bad cologne. Their core problem, I analyzed, was lack of confidence. Common sense would dictate that secure men don’t need a script to approach women. Can you imagine Bill Clinton or Don Draper using PUA methods? I don’t think so.
As you may have deduced from my tone, I always looked down on PUAs and their slimy methods. Which is why I couldn’t stop myself from signing up for a class entitled “Pickup a 10 in the Streets of NYC.” At first I was just curious; I wanted to know what makes these guys tick. I imagined myself as a spy on a reconnaissance mission, collecting information from the enemy. Or like Sigourney Weaver in “Gorillas in the Mist,” studying the species’ every move. Keep reading »
Nearly two years ago, I wrote about all the reasons why having a plant is better than having a boyfriend. Then, recently, I landed myself an awesome boyfriend who is pretty much always available to listen to me in the way my plants previously did (and before that my childhood dog, Mandy).
Now, begrudgingly, I’m forced to admit that having a boyfriend is slightly better than having a plantfriend. It’s just more edifying to have someone listen to you who talks back with kind words and intelligent insights and also wants to make out with you. (Friends are good for this kind of thing as well — minus the making out — if you’re not with boyfriend at the moment.)
But just because I have a human companion, doesn’t mean that I appreciate the sage wisdom of my plants any less. A big shout out to Liberation, Money Bags, Muffin Top, Spike, and Banana for always being there for me. Here’s what I’ve learned from living with my plantfriends for the last six years, my plantitudes, if you will…
I’m an an undomestic goddess of the highest order. I believe I’ve mentioned that I hate to cook so you probably wouldn’t be that surprised to learn that I hate to clean. YET … if you walked into my apartment, you would think it was clean. How do I do make this magical illusion happen? Full disclosure: I do pay someone to deep clean my apartment one to two times a month. It’s the most worthwhile $100 I’ve ever spent. BUT ALSO, I am the master at straightening up. I don’t clean, I straighten. If you’re like me — unwilling to break out a single cleaning product when you’re having company over — then you’ll appreciate my super lazy cleaning tips. Use them well and try not to judge me. Keep reading »
Spring Cleaning Week is forcing me to confront my hoarding tendencies. I know that hoarding is a serious mental illness that causes severe problem for many people. I don’t mean to use the term with any disrespect. I’m not a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination. But let’s just put it this way: I can barely close my underwear drawer anymore. It’s getting to be a problem. I’m really good at buying new underwear, but not so much at throwing the old pairs away. Like, for instance, I still have a pair of paisley-printed, ’70s style briefs that my mother gave me in HIGH SCHOOL (I graduated from high school in 1996). They don’t fit anymore on account of the fact that they’ve been washed so many times that they no longer contain any elastic. They just fall right off my body. Yet, I can’t seem to bring myself to put them in the garbage can. They’re just so unique. Keep reading »
I think if Carl Jung was alive, he would call Reddit a sieve for the collective unconscious. Or something like that. Because I’m a total Jungian, I like to spend time on Reddit researching the state of our collective psyche. Not that I need to justify being a Reddit junkie or anything. OK. I’m a Reddit junkie. There! I owned it. Moving on. This week, I stumbled upon a very enlightening AskReddit thread about things women think turn men on, but really aren’t doin’ it for them. We’re sorry, guys. We had no idea that you don’t like it when we treat your balls like fun toys. Check out some of the most interesting things men had to say, in their own words, about the ways in which we are failing to turn them on … unbeknownst to us. Keep reading »
Non-boyfriend: defined as a close, uncomplicated friendship you have with a dude that defies all romantic weirdnesses because you two aren’t dating and have established that you never will. Would he sleep with you if you begged him? Probably. Is there some tiny spark of attraction? Sure. But that’s not the point. The point is that you’re both happy being two single friends who would maybe, in some some second life universe, bang if the moment arose. Until he finds a real girlfriend, and he will because he is an awesome guy, he will be a loyal, devoted, supportive and drama-free friend who you can text whenever the hell you feel like it. Of course, he may become a little scarcer once he gets a girlfriend but that’s OK because you’ll be happy for him. Appreciate him while he’s around. This is an ode to non-boyfriends and all the wonderful things about them… Keep reading »
As a woman in her ’30s, I thought I knew pretty much all there was to know about my body. If you had asked me, I would have sworn I was well-informed. And then I started going to a new gynecologist and she literally blew my mind when she told I’d been checking my breasts all wrong. What? How had I missed this? I knew about the circular check but not the up-and-down pattern. Well, maybe because the last time I learned about breast self-examination was from a pamphlet I got in high school. That was a while ago. After the jump, I asked other women about the most surprising things they learned from their gynos. Keep reading »
Last week we asked readers to vote on a post they wanted me to write. The winner was 6 Myths About Squirting. Here it is!
Female ejaculation has been called the “one of the most hotly debated questions in modern sexology” because no one has been able to crack the code about how or why it happens. We can agree that squirting is the expulsion of fluid through and around the urethra during or before an orgasm. For most women, it’s the unicorn of sexual experiences, meaning we have only dreamed of meeting it face to face. This explains why there are so many urban legends about a friend of a friend of a cousin who could do it on command every time. And you’re like, “Gee thanks, that really helps me understand this thing.” It may be a while before we have definitive answers, but in the meantime we can break down some of the existing myths about squirting. Keep reading »
According to the April 2013 issue of Details, our celebrity sexual fantasies are dominated by Ryan Gosling and Mila Kunis. No surprise there. I get it. All these people are thoroughly fuckable. I’m just wondering how Bradley Cooper eeked his way onto there. Has nobody seen those pictures of him getting a perm? See a larger version here. [Boy Culture]
All those coupled friends of yours, you’re genuinely happy that they’ve found someone whose morning breath makes them giddy. You’re thrilled that you’ll never have to field another late night phone call from them about how they are scared to choke on a ham sandwich and die alone like Mama Cass. Really, you’re glad they found ever-lasting love and left you alone to make a weekend of hand-washing your delicates.
The only issue: the second they fell in love, it’s like they got single amnesia and forgot what it felt like to eat peanut butter straight out of the jar for dinner on a Saturday night. Their memory of what it was like to be relegated to the pull-out couch at Christmas while your brother and his wife get to sleep in your bed was wiped out. They no longer recall what it was like to feel demoralized after going on 100 unsuccessful OK Cupid dates. And this is why they assume that you would like to bird sit for them for the next two weeks while they’re laying on the beach in Aruba. Because you have nothing better to do, right? Well, not really, but that doesn’t mean you want to deal with bird shit. And while you’re at it, here are some more things they shouldn’t assume you’d like to participate in just because you’re single. Keep reading »