I’ll tell you where to find eligible, sensitive, loving, manly men are, and that’s Queens, which is like Brooklyn, if Brooklyn didn’t try so hard. This magical borough in New York City is positively thick with emo blog hacks from Texas. But if this gritty urban paradise isn’t convenient, then the next best place to meet men is, you know, wherever. Keep reading »
When the dead walk and the world is plunged into chaos, the only dating advice that will matter is this: the couple that beheads zombies together, stays together. But that advice doesn’t just work in a dark future where corpses hunger for human flesh. It is very practical dating advice for right now, in these last, few remaining years when the deceased stay in their coffins, rather than clawing out from their graves.
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We all know the classic bitches: Women who speak their mind rather than bite their tongue. The women who rage against anything that provokes them: the man, the kids, the boss, their PMS. While we like to think their bad behavior is simply a case of bad judgment, new research shows that “bitchy” may be a gene.
Sorry, guys, but it’s been scientifically proven that a woman can now blame her anger and aggression on her genes. Scientific research found that some women are genetically programmed to be angry and aggressive by a serotonin receptor gene. The good news is that not every woman carries it. Read more…
This piece originally appeared on The Frisky and The Good Men Project in February, but is being republished on both sites as the film “What’s Your Number?” hits theaters nationwide.
Judging from what I read online and hear from my students, the question of the “number” is as compelling as ever. This month, Marie Claire ran an article, “What’s Your Number?” in which five women (whose numbers ranged from zero to 100) told their stories. The March issue of Cosmopolitan Australia features the same discussion, noting that 59 percent of readers surveyed thought knowing a partner’s exact number was important, and that 33 percent of those same readers had lied about their own pasts, claiming fewer sexual partners than they’d actually had.
The more men his girlfriend has slept with, the greater number of lovers to which she can compare his skills. It’s easier to win a contest against two than against 20, he figures.
Women are always writing blog posts about the types of men who shouldn’t be dated, like overgrown frat boys, mole people, and men who still bathe with their mothers. Well, two can play at that game! I see your stereotype and raise you a bunch! Here are the types of women no man should date.
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There are three desires no man need ever justify — Marisa Tomei, a damn good sandwich, and his mother’s happiness. But since the first one is every man for himself and the last one is an individual concern, we can only advise you on the middle.
Making a damn good sandwich should be first nature for every man since high school, when newly grown patches of hair demand increased levels of protein. Here are the basics you’re going to need. Read more… Keep reading »
As I laid on the couch, having a very regular, very non-inspiring evening alone watching baseball, I got an onslaught of sexts from the woman I was dating. After a series of lewd and kind of hilarious d**k pics, she replied with what looked like a Vogue magazine worthy, very tasteful, classy black and white digital nude. I got harder than Chinese algebra. I went from zero to phone sex in a matter of seconds. I dialed my woman. It was the next logical step. Keep reading »
The old cliché warns against judging a book by its cover, and this is especially true when sizing up a lover. You just can’t tell how sexually adventurous a person is by looking at them. Appearances don’t always deceive; sometimes they just obscure the truth. And I’ve learned over the years that just because she looks Amish, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a vibrator the size of a jackhammer under her bed. Keep reading »
I had a plan on September 10th, 2001. It was a rough plan, just broad strokes, really. But it was a plan. Because men make plans. You can’t build a bridge or pull off a bank heist or rescue a hostage without a plan. So I had a plan to get my life in order. It was a three-part plan. Part one: stop being fat and stupid. Part two: become rich. Part three: quit smoking. Keep reading »
Not so long ago, my wife and I were talking to a recently-divorced friend of ours. She’s younger than we are, in her early thirties, and as far as she’s concerned, she’s never tying the knot again. Not because of an objection to the institution, but because she’s convinced that most men marry for one reason: they want to be taken care of emotionally.
“I got tired of thinking about someone else’s needs all the time,” our friend said. “I’m prepared to take care of a baby. But I don’t want my first-born to be my second child.” When she heard that, my wife turned to me and gave me a grin. She knows my history.
In three previous marriages and a handful of other long-term relationships (I haven’t been single for long since I was 16), I found myself—like so many men—taking on the parts of the “naughty boy” and the “helpless child.” Time and again, I turned wives and girlfriends into mother-figures, and the result was inevitably disastrous. Keep reading »