Here’s a question: Why was Chris Noth’s character in “Sex In the City” nicknamed “Mr. Big” when it’s clear it should have been “Mr. Old Man Fatty”?
Also, I want to know which came first: Carrie and the girls giving the men they were dating petty, offensive little nicknames or actual real world women assigning their men these kinds of faux clever monikers.
You ladies nickname us according to our jobs, our sexual proclivities, or some flaw in our character, as if the act of nicknaming is some preemptive, passive-aggressive revenge tactic. It should be noted that a nickname is the polar opposite of a pet name; essentially, one is accentuating the negative, the other the positive. For instance, I had a chick friend who dated a dude whom she nicknamed “Nasty Ass.” (We were BFFs, and she talked to me like I was vagina-enabled; little did she know I was gathering intelligence.) Anyway, she kept dating him, and wouldn’t you know, love unexpectedly spread, like Ebola. Eventually, her pet name for him was a loving “Stinky.” True story. Keep reading »
As I see it, there should be no discussion of a relationship, or exclusivity, within the first three months of dating. Those three months should be a drama and ultimatum-free zone. No jealousy or commitment. Just a period of savoring; the gritty, totally worth it hard work can come later. Save it, potentially, for the rest of your life.
If something works between two people, then there is no rush. That “click” will still be there in three months, and hopefully six, and a year, etc. And once you find that unlucky slob who will Eskimo kiss you when you’re sick, all you have to do in order to preserve your new found mutual attraction is to chill the f**k out, have faith, and not flinch. Let it happen. Keep reading »
Lately I’ve been kind of getting in touch with my kinkier side. Being that I didn’t really have a kinky side before, it’s a big deal for me that I’ve discovered the pleasures of, uh, ass-smacking. Now that it’s kind of my “thing,” I’ve been thinking about other people I know and their “things.” I once hooked up with this Brazilian guy in San Francisco (and by hook up, I mean we met at a club, went back to his weird warehouse apartment, and made out a little) and discovered that he had a thing for armpit licking. My armpit, that is. I’ve told this story numerous times and most people express disgust and/or concern that he could die from deodorant poisoning. (He didn’t, as far as I know, but we didn’t keep in touch.) One of the people who expressed disgust is someone I’m sort of seeing — but he has a thing for striped thigh high stockings, so I guess one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. After the jump, I grill the guys on my IM about what turns them on. We get off topic a few times. Sorry. Keep reading »
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 »
You know what has always struck me as unfair? That Valentine’s Day is largely considered to be a holiday for women. In all the ads for the holiday, jewelry, chocolates, flowers, etc. are all gifts given to women, from their devoted, tie-clad husbands and boyfriends. Bu what about dudes? Don’t they want cheesy tokens of love and affection too? Wouldn’t they like to be taken out for a romantic dinner or given a nice piece of man jewelry? (By which I mean a watch. Men should not wear any jewelry outside of a watch and a wedding band. That is a rule.) The first Valentine’s Day I spent with my ex, five years ago, we went out to dinner, but his parents had called up the restaurant and pre-paid for our meal, as a surprise. (I guess they had a sense that I was “The One,” which used to make me go, “Aww,” but now makes me go, “Oops!”) I, however, felt like getting him something too, and ended up giving him four new wine glasses — partially as a joke because I had broken one of his the week before. The point is, don’t men deserve and want a little wooing? And if so, how do they want to be wooed? I asked the fellas. 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 »
Lately I’ve noticed that a lot of stars are showing up events or are photographed with visible nipple action, either in the form of hard, erect nipples poking through shirts (Paris Hilton), or thin fabric exposing the slightest bit of areolae shape and color (Beyonce, I am talking to you). With the insane array of products on the market to prevent such displays — from, you know, bras to breast petals — I’ve been wondering why on earth these ladies are walking out of the house with their headlights on. But beyond that, what do guys think? I mean, i think it goes without saying that breasts are beloved by all straight men, but is it true that guys are really hot for hard nipples? And what do they think of nipples in general? I think you know who I asked… 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 »
Now that I’m back on the “dating scene,” I’ve realized that I’m still borderline idiotic when it comes to male-female courtships. My last relationship started off pretty typically — a dinner date here, a movie date there — but quickly spiraled into very serious, very quickly. We said I love you within two months, moved in together within five months, and were together for nearly five years. I can’t recall when we or if we had the whole “boyfriend/girlfriend” discussion, or how we knew we were seeing each other exclusively. It’s unfortunate, because I could use that knowledge now. For example, how in the hell do you know when your fun, dating relationship has progressed into boyfriend/girlfriend territory? Is it when you have the “we’re banging each other exclusively” conversation? When introductions are made to friends? When one of you slips up and and says “my boyfriend” in front of the other? And let’s say you’re dating each other exclusively (because dating, not to mention sleeping, with multiple people is extremely time consuming), when does THAT change into BF/GF? Seriously, can you tell I am confused? The guys on my IM are here to help… 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 »