I used to think that when a relationship ends, there’s no reason to see the other person again, other than in casual public settings. After all, it’s called “ending a relationship” for a reason. All of that changed when I dated one of my long-time friends. She’s excellent. When things didn’t work out romantically, we sort of effortlessly switched back to making fart jokes with each other, almost as though we’d never seen each other naked. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that we ever did. I need to buy a camera phone. Anyways, I now realize that there are some great benefits to being friendly with an ex, as long as there aren’t any more sexy moisture-time feelings between the two parties. However, there’s an added hitch: the jealousy of your new partner. Keep reading »
Sex with an ex is a really bad idea. Whoever came up with the concept of “breakup sex” was either a pathetic masochist or just lazy. Breakup sex isn’t just “one more for the road.” It’s being given a delicious cupcake, then having it slapped out of your mouth. Breakup sex is a fluffy, comfy pillow for you to rest your head on while your neck is in the guillotine. I don’t think you understand me.
Let me rephrase: breakup sex is like getting viciously mugged, then running after the assailant because he forgot to take your watch. I imagine vampires always have breakup sex, because sex with a vampire is always melancholy, awkward, and then there are the tears of blood. Keep reading »
Contrary to popular belief, guys aren’t satisfied with just getting laid. They want it to be good and exciting too. I know — so demanding. But I aim to please and with that in mind, I convinced a couple of guys I know to confess what they really wish women did more of in the sack. Keep reading »
Call me The Brostrologer. I can tell how a woman will be in bed just by finding out her astrological sign. It’s true. I’m not a student of astrology. I actually know very little about it. To me, stars are just what your father stole from the sky and put in your eyes. They are also giant balls of nuclear fire burning brightly in the inky infinity of space. Besides helping ancient mariners navigate, they serve no practical Earthly purpose, save to twinkle and occasionally fall. But enough about celestial aesthetics. In fact, I don’t even really believe in astrology (no offense to house sorceress Kiki T.). I also don’t believe in ghosts, Bigfoot, or conspiracy theories. To add to that list: I don’t believe in reiki, the prophecies of Nostradamus, or the words “fat free.” Keep reading »
Last summer, Mark Sanford wrote the following words to his mistress, Maria Belén Chapur:
“I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself (or two magnificent parts of yourself) in the faded glow of the night’s light—but hey, that would be going into sexual details…”
I remember reading that and thinking: A) “Wow, this guy is a serious cheesmo,” and B) “Wait, he loves her tan lines?” It struck me as strange.
But in the past week, I’ve been hearing an awful lot about men fixating on tan lines. Keep reading »
Brevity is the soul of relationship talks. The shortest distance between two hearts is a straight line. Don’t be a blabbercheeks. I don’t think I’m being clear: When you are discussing important issues with your significant other, keep the conversation short and sweet and to the point. One of the great male stereotypes is that men loathe having to talk about anything serious. That dudes would prefer a forced eel colonic to sitting down and hashing out our feelings. Part of this stereotype is the notion that men are scared of their emotions. This is actually partially true. We are scared of our emotions, and that’s why we respect them. Emotions can make a man feel like a soaring kite one moment and a gym sock full of warm parfait the next. Keep reading »