Category Archives: Sex

I’m just gunna say it how it is

This will be a post that not many will agree on. They may be just as many, hopefully more that will agree with me on. Let’s hope you are enlightened people. I hope you are. If not, well that’s sad. I want to tell you to kinda of fuck off then… but I won’t, because I believe that you have a right to have an opinion… but people with the wrong opinions, well I don’t like you. I really don’t like you.

Abortion is a right. A fucking right. Your right to picket abortion clinics? No. Shut the fuck up. Write an angry letter to your political official. Start an angry blog. Hey, write your own suicide note in your own blood telling the world how you feel these women are murdering babies. Go on. Do that. In your own home. But don’t make a hard decision harder. You can’t understand until you’ve been in that situation… you can emphasise of course. No one wants to be in a situation like that, but sometimes you make a mistake, something goes wrong. But hell, I don’t want to bring a child into a world where I can’t buy clothes for it. Can’t afford to feed it. I want that child to have everything I didn’t have and more. Your child is the embodiment of the love you have for someone else, or maybe is this being you created out of pure love. That’s a child. You want its happiness. How is bringing a child into a world where all it will know is sadness, poverty and discomfort? I don’t want that. I don’t even want that for my enemies. Do I want children? Sure. I’m an only child. I grew up alone. I like being alone, but I wished as a child for someone to play with. I wish I had a big brother to protect me when I fuck up. I want someone to be there when my parents die, and hold my hand because they understand. But I’m alone. So that’s probably why I act strong. Some say bitchy and outspoken… maybe. But I also know deep down, that I came into this world alone… and I will die alone, so I pick myself up when everything seems to fuck up around me. I want a child, because one day, maybe I’ll be so in love with someone, that I want to create something with that person… a little someone that will one day find a love of their own. Because I know that when I find that someone, and I’ll look into their eyes, they will want the same thing from me. But it will be a choice. Because a child is sort of having a tattoo on your face… you have to be bloody sure you want it. There’s sort of no “backsies”. And that’s why abortion is important. The right to decide when you create this being, and with who. Sometimes you make a child, and you fall out of love… that happens. But that child was created, hopefully at a time of love… sure there are exceptions… there are those people who don’t care. They make babies coz they don’t know what else to do. Maybe it’s expected of them. Who knows. But the right to say no, as a woman is my choice. Sex is fun. No, with the right person, the right chemistry. It’s flipping amazing… but I don’t want to live in fear that every time I am with a guy a baby might be created. Use a condom… go on the pill… whatever works for you. But sometimes mistakes happen. It brakes. You forgot. You may be raped. Who wants to bring up a rapists baby? Have a constant reminder of a horrible moment in your existence? Who wants a father who is an unknown rapist? No one. No one can live with that.

Bringing a child into a world or an environment that is not ready, is not “saving a child”… it’s actually selfish… because you have brought a human being into a world that it won’t thrive or grow in. If you have every read any of Darwin’s books, you will be familiar with his world changing theory of evolution (which isn’t just a theory, it’s fucking reality “SAY NO TO CREATIONISTS YOU MORONS”… and yes I’m looking at you America!)… which means you know all about natural selection. Natural selection is technically no longer applicable to humans, owing to advances in medicine, but it still works on a social and anthropological level. Why do people who start life in richer families generally succeed better? (there are obviously exceptions, I mean look at Albert Camus for starters, but there are many… but rarer). With money, sadly comes opportunities. With opportunities, comes better schools, education, travelling… etc. it opens the child to a better job… a broader mind… better access to food and healthcare etc. This isn’t always true, but it is undeniable that it is a major factor. But it helps. So, if I take myself as an example. I’m a 25 year old student. I finish my studies in about a year and a half. I don’t have a job. I have a small flat. I can barely look after myself… let along a tiny human being. When I want a child, I want to be able to buy it nappies. Food. Whatever. I want it to go to a good school. Get a great job. Meet someone that makes them laugh and smile. I want them to be happy. Can I make a child happy now? Nope. So yes, if I get pregnant now. I’m having an abortion. Yes it hurts. Yes I don’t want to have to make that decision, but if I have to I will… because abortion isn’t murder. Abortion is about making the right choice at the right moment. Bring a child into a world that it can thrive in. Because unlike animals, the weak ones don’t just die… they poison your whole life. It’s sort of like being born with a thorn in your foot. You can still walk, but it fucking hurts. Being born to someone who can’t give a child all it needs, is the same. It won’t always thrive, it will eventually sort of go gangrenous and won’t be the best it could be. It takes someone who is born into hardship to say fuck you and pick themselves up. Look at the people who are born with too much money, or too much love and fuck up because they don’t have the fear to pick themselves up and sort themselves up. Life is about balance. It’s about trying your best to be the best you can, not just for you, but for the people you love and respect.


So, make the right choices… because that’s sort of what life is about. But it’s your life. So you make the choices that are the best for you. Don’t attach a rock to foot and jump into the deep end. Jump into the water with armbands on. It’s better to float than sink.

I dedicate this post to CB. Who always talks to me straight. No bullshit. And who always makes the best choices, even when I can’t, they aways give me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn’t judge me when I do go down the wrong road. Thanks.


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Filed under Choice, Culture, Family, Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Hello?, Love, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, Sorry, The future, USA

Toe curlingly good…

I’m at last in a serious relationship. It’s taken me a while, and sure… I’ve had a few hot sweaty nights… but I think I’ve found all the cool and calm I need… I suppose who want to know a bit more? Well, he spins my body around, as well as my head… he’s quit noisy in bed, but at least he’s honest about the fun we are having… ok ok ok fine, I’ve bought an electric fan. BUT, in all fairness, I really think we’re dating. I mean, he’s on all the time, he spends so much time with me and to be honest, he doesn’t hurt my feelings, make me feel like shit, or anything… but he doesn’t tell me dumb jokes, or call me dumbo when I say something silly… and he doesn’t go and get me orange juice when I want some (that said, I don’t think I know any men who would do that either, so maybe I should turn lesbian).

Anyway. Yes. It’s fucking hot. I’m on holiday. I’m off to Ireland soon, then job interview at a bakery (which I really hope I get because… who doesn’t like making croissants and sandwiches? No one.)

Apart from that, I’m try tired. I think I’m slowly dying (I think that’s why I’m sad)…  Wish I didn’t have a brain so I couldn’t think.

My love life is getting interesting, can’t say much but I have to say, apparently I’m successful with Egyptians (not really my type) and Americans (the accent isn’t as nice, but the one I met was from Boston, so très sexy). But I’m not going to act on anything yet anyway. I think I’ll curl up with Oreo’s (lactose free! Woot!) and a cup’o’tea instead. And wait for death to take me.

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How Dolly Parton was the first Carrie Bradshaw

I know. It’s been a while since I last wrote. But for my defence I’ve been busy (no really). Anyway, lately I’ve been listening to a lot of country music, and yes I realise it is a sort of cliché (broken hearts, star crossed lovers and the whole “unrequited love” bollocks that you will find in most music genres, but you can deny is most prevalent in the country scene)… but I don’t care. It is still better than listening to techno while nursing a migraine.

You can’t listen to Country music without talking about the famous Dolly Parton (now with her own theme park, I kid you not. It’s called (surprise surprise) Dollyville). I started by listening to Islands in the stream, which is really a great song and the lyrics are really quite good (of course, me behind my computer mending a sort of heart/brain problem, it just made me a but jealous but hey, I can’t call Dolly a bitch can I? Nope.

Here’s the lyrics (at the end), and look closely, that guy really loves her, they’re making “love” and everything. Bitch (sorry Dolly). But it really goes to show that she was really putting herself out there, Carrie Bradshaw? Per-lease, Dolly was shouting all over the world in the 80’s how much she loved her man and that she enjoyed sex. Wonderful. And a mere 20 years later, Carrie was sitting with her friends talking about anal and blow-jobs! So passé my dear, come back and talk about making love, that’s the new BJ of the 21st century. You can’t get away with saying “making love” anymore! I say that, and I’ll be neutered on the spot!

So after Islands in the stream, I went to Jolene. If you can believe it, even better. Now personally, I don’t care for the name of Jolene. I’m not american, and to be honest, I don’t know anyone by the name of Jolene in any case. But hey, I didn’t write the song (if it had been me, I’d called it something like… Pauline… works too!). I’ll put the whole lyrics at the end, but listen to this bit (and yes, this is getting more personal, even though I know this PERSON doesn’t read my blog, know of its existence or even read English, but yes I’m talking about you BIACH!)… “Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene, Im begging of you please don’t take my man”… now I love this line, genius… that said if it was more I wouldn’t say please and I wouldn’t beg either, but hey Dolly’s a far more polite person that myself. She then writes “Please don’t take him just because you can”, and yes I agree, just because you can, don’t. Keep your legs crossed, and sometimes damn it, leave some of the other girls get a guy! This reminds me of a female friend of mine who’s having “boyfriend trouble” (even though in my opinion she is taking everything out of proportion and should wait and see, whatever, I’m happy I’m single (only in the situation though)). She has had… how should I put it, discrepancies in the past (dating guys who were already with girls etc), and I wonder if she is afraid her lover will do the same… the past always comes to bite you in the derrière at some point!) – or is that Karma? Anyway, love that line. She then goes on to say “And I cannot compete with you, jolene”. Now, I am definitely not the most confidant person in the world, but I can’t say she is selling herself short here… that said, I can’t deny that I have felt (and drunkenly said) the same thing. So you go girl, Dolly you’re perfect! At least Dolly’s showing a bit of humility, Jesus, I don’t think I have ever heard Carrie say she has doubts about her physique. She’s always prancing about like some prepubescent girl (I’m not saying I hate Sex and the City, I love it (except the second movie, bad choice… Abu Dhabi… really?)) but seriously she’s far from perfect, she has pretty anorexic arms! And lastly she says “You could have your choice of men, But I could never love again, He’s the only one for me, jolene”. Oh come on, you out there with your hearts of stone, isn’t that just lovely? Now, I don’t know how I feel about a certain someone (so complicated), but I can understand the feeling. No one wants to hear “there are plenty of fish in the sea”, argh. Please. That’s like saying there’s a lot of letters in a can of Alphabetti-Spaghetti. We know. We don’t need whooshing generalities. That said, everyone wants to feel special, and to steal a phrase from old Carrie herself, everyone likes the think that in our life, we have “one great love”. Now, when they come, if they don’t last long, or the passion blows out faster than expected… everyone should have at least one! (and this is where I insert a personal note here, “Ahem. Hello God, person out there, almighty power  (or Powa is your Asian or a teenage girl), Karma, Yahveh,  ‘ilah, Allah, Elohim… whatever, Dude, come on, through me a bone (not a real one please, I’m not a dog), send me something. A guy I can spend a bit of time with, without being fucked about with, playing with my emotions. He doesn’t even have to be the sexiest, or have good taste, look he doesn’t even have to be that intelligent (nothing under 160 IQ ok? Be cool.)… I’m not saying that I’m desperate, or that I’ll take anything… but I’m starting to think it’s me, not guys (even though my parents keep on reassuring me).

That’s it. So ladies (and gentlemen if you are out there and are still reading)… be happy in your own skin, beat the shit out of any boy stealing hag, and believe that you will love again, even after heartbreak (marzipan chocolate helps, i promise).

Islands in the Stream – Dolly Parton 
Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb
I was soft inside, there was somethin going on
You do something to me that I can’t explain
Hold me closer and I feel no pain
Every beat of my heart
We got somethin goin on
Tender love is blind
It requires a dedication
All this love we feel
Needs no conversation
We ride it together, ah-ah
Makin love with each other, ah-ah


Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in-between
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me to another world
And we rely on each other, ah-ah
From one lover to another, ah-ah

I can’t live without you if the love was gone
Everything is nothin if you got no one
And you did walk in tonight
Slowly loosen sight of the real thing

But that wont happen to us and we got no doubt
Too deep in love and we got no way out
And the message is clear
This could be the year for the real thing

No more will you cry
Baby, I will hurt you never
We start and end as one, in love forever
We can ride it together, ah-ah
Makin love with each other, ah-ah

Repeat chorus


Sail away
Oh, come sail away with me

Repeat chorus


Repeat chorus

Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Im begging of you please don’t take my man 
Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Please don’t take him just because you can 
Your beauty is beyond compare 
With flaming locks of auburn hair 
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green 
Your smile is like a breath of spring 
Your voice is soft like summer rain 
And I cannot compete with you, jolene 

He talks about you in his sleep 
There’s nothing I can do to keep 
From crying when he calls your name, jolene 

And I can easily understand 
How you could easily take my man 
But you don’t know what he means to me, jolene 

Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Im begging of you please don’t take my man 
Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Please don’t take him just because you can 

You could have your choice of men 
But I could never love again 
Hes the only one for me, jolene 

I had to have this talk with you 
My happiness depends on you 
And whatever you decide to do, jolene 

Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Im begging of you please don’t take my man 
Jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene 
Please don’t take him even though you can 
Jolene, jolene

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Filed under Clichés, Culture, Friends, Games People Play, Men vs. Women, Music, NEW!, Poems, Sex, Society

Sexual Penpals…

Bla bla blaaaa

Bla bla blaaaa

Just like the fuck-buddy… the sexual penpal is the new “must have” gadget of the 21st century. Don’t lie. Everyone has one… or at least a dirty little secret they won’t 100% admit too.

Let me explain. Is the fuck-buddy is your physical toy… the sexual pen-pal is your imaginary one… or at least one you don’t have regular sex with. He (or she) is… not computer or techno-phobic like some other guys/gals. He/she will reply to texts, e-mails… dirty texts… photos… and if you’re lucky (and he/she doesn’t mind spending money/time/credit on you) the elusive “chat” (this dirty way of communication is good for the popular nineties fad of phone sex… nowadays it’s more skype sex (or msn sex if you still have windows 98).

In any case, the sexual penpal is the person you exchange more or less steady contact with, rare daydreams (because let’s be honest, you’re not too attracted to them) but you keep the relationship alive, because… if you’re honest… you like the attention.

There’s not point lying. We all do it. Everyone has a sort of emotional “tampon”. A guy/girl who we keep around to make us feel good about ourselves. The sexual pen-pal is just the same. Except that you swap dirty provocative texts with the latter, and keep the emotional tampon around for when you want a bucket of ice-cream and a hug. I really like my sexual penpal. I like him because I know I better looking than him. I like him because I know he likes me. I know things about him… so sexual blackmail usually gets me small gifts (don’t worry, don’t call the RSPCA, we are friends… he just… likes me more than I like him…) anyway.

The sexual penpal is a great tool to try weird fantasies and desires out. Sure… you might not really do them to him per say… but if you really want to have “up the butt sex while wearing clown shoes and wearing nothing but bacon” then… it’s a good idea to try that idea on him/her first (this is how I found out he likes anal sex… thus the blackmail…).

What you notice about the sexual penpal is two distinct relationship evolutions : either you continue to talk… and even if neither of you want to admit it (either because the sex was embarrassing when it happened, and/or he has misshaped balls (this happens. Get over it hunny. Could be worse.) you have actually become fond of each other… (more of this in a minute) OR you lose touch because he : a) Is embarrassed, b) Decides not to keep contact because he has got a new girlfriend/realised he could never get you back into his 6m2 apartment for some “rollin’ on his mattress bed (classy… it’s on the floor… but he says he likes it that way” c) Is bored… etc.

In any case, like most things it’s either yes/no, black/white, 50/50, yes/no… etc.

To illustrate point one (becoming fond of each other) I’ll tell you about my “sexual penpal”… No lies, all truth (and in case my daddy’s reading this… It’s all a lie! ^^).

I met him online. Yes did I hear you cringe on the other side of the screen? Yeah, I know… online dating is… I’m afraid for social retards who can’t function in real society… and thus need to use the inter-web to find a date (yeah I’m talking about you, you immature little boy)… Anyway. We met online. I was in a period of my life, when I only needed, and wanted one thing… so we got down to work. He then moved to another city pretty far… which led to me forgetting him and finding someone else… but for some reason, he would text from time to time, so… as a friendly person that I am (I really am) I texted back and forth for a few months… at the beginning, all you talk about is sex… and a bit of “what are you doing at work/school/prison/pirate ship”/ etc.)
I started to noticed more and more  texting… and so I eventually asked him “Are we friends?” He replies by telling me he doesn’t want to date me. Now for some girls, you might shed a tear, urinate yourself… or both. Me… well I’m not really like that. What actually came into my head was “Why the fuck wouldn’t you want to date me, I’m fucking amazing… and then… Babe I definitely don’t want to date you… or be seen in public with you…” So… I re-explain that for a guy who still insists I’m just his “ex-fuckbuddy”… then why the frick his he still contacting me? Seriously. If you don’t like me… Do what I do… I delete everything about you… literally. For me it’s all or nothing. In any case… he said we could never be friends because we had had sex (no I’m no prude… and I’m no whore… but I don’t see why I can’t be friends with my exes and/or guys I’ve had sex with. Seeing someone naked doesn’t mean “no, no we can’t ever been friends, you’ve seen my pee-pee”. What generation is the write one to be in? (I will just add that this guy is about 10 years older than me…). Anyway… to continue… he continues to text/call/email/facebook the lot. I even got some sexy photos and a skype show (but let’s keep some details personal shall we!?) So… one night, he calls me, we chat… and Roxy loses it. People who know me, know not to piss me off. I go from 0 to 220km/h in 2 seconds flat. To cut a long story short. I get him to admit that for someone who doesn’t “give that much of a crap about me”, he does sure contact me a lot… and I had to say was “Grow the fuck up you baby” and “Actions speak louder than words” and I go the answer I wanted :

– Ok, You’re right. I suppose we are friends… like like to occasionally bump uglies.

That’s all I wanted. Honesty.

Now. Back to sexual penpals. In my opinion, they are great ways of of experimenting and well when you’re bored on a 3 hours train/bus/car ride like I usually am… it’s a good way to pass the time. And it’s cheap sex. No condoms or buying drinks/dinner for anyone. I think it sounds like the perfect relationship. Problem is. Sometimes they get jealous… which I never understand.


Filed under Culture, Europe, Fashion, France, Friends, Games People Play, Loser Guys, Men vs. Women, Orgasm, Politics, Risk, Sex, Society

Stop Playing Games and Roll the Dice!


Green Light? Or Red Light? When the fuck do I go?

Ok, that’s not exactly what I’m talking about. But it is I must say, along the same vein… I think by now, you, my very few readers have at least gotten to know me a bit better… and you must have at least realised that I am a “no nonsense kinda gal”. Actually, scrap that, I am a girl, no woman and I always want the best, and don’t usually say no for an answer. I am an independent do-it-yourself-or-shut-the-fuck-up kinda girl/woman. I’m the girl who knows usually what she wants, and tries her best to get it. No one would deny that I am not passionate. It is one of the first thing people notice about me (at least when I’m talking about something I am interested in). I’m also realistic. And as sad as it is to admit it, I’m afraid readers… for those who haven’t met me, I’m not Scarlett Johansson… sadly! I’m not an ugly herring either… so don’t start imagining me as some Susan Boyle lookalike. My eyebrows are perfectly plucked, and I take care of myself… I am however not super thin. I know, but for my defence… I spend most of my time in front of my computer… reading… and well I hate most sports (at least the ones you do alone!) 

Ha sorry for the crude joke, but it was too easy. In any case. Let’s get to the point of this post :

Men playing games or shall I say “mind games”. Now don’t get me wrong, most women apparently do this. I don’t. I seriously have no idea how to play these games. I’m the talkative funny girl, not the mysterious blond woman in the corner who sips on vermouth and bats her eyelashes in a mans direction. Nope. when I’m interested, I’m more or likely going to tell you at some point… or get drunk and watch you flirt with other girls until I crawl crying home with a one night stand on my arm (ok not ALL the time, but sometimes a least!). I’m not proud of everything I’ve done… but in my case, I attract guys I am not interested in, I think because I show little interest… but because I am not a bitch, I talk to these guys anyway. Not because I want to dance the naked dance with them under the sheets, but in fact because, well why not talk to somebody? I love talking to people. I talk all the time. To everyone. Problem is… I’m thinking that guys actually want girls who are more “unavailable” to them. 

I’m totally serious. If I think back. All the guys I’ve treated like shit. Ignored. Insulted… have all come back! Seriously… I have even dumped someone DURING sex. Yes. Yes I admit it. (for my defence, he was very very bad, and I was tired and had really had enough of him telling me how awesome he was… the result now, is that he calls me twice a month wanting to go out for a drink. Don’t you think he would have got the message by now? Well apparently not.) Now while that was not my proudest moment it does prove one thing. 

Guys want girls they can’t get. They want a mountain to climb. They want it hard, and the don’t want it fast. 


Now I will also concede that if a guy really really likes you, he “will-make-it-happen”, no matter what. But, what happens to all the other guys who likea girl, but are not really fussed/crazy about her yet/not sure etc.? I mean… not all guys are crazy about a girl in the beginning, I can “totes” get that. But seriously… what I don’t understand… why would a guy talk to you every time you go online… then not speak to you (or reply to the super cute email you send them!) and then ask you out on a date? I’m getting very mixed signals. I’m not sure if he likes me… or likes me not ! How very 17th century I am! (don’t worry I won’t start reciting poetry!) 

He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not… He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not… He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not… He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not…

So… when do we know when a man’s playing a game or when he’s not interested? I think it’s hard to say. I suppose we women should stop over analysing every thing a guy does. Take the plunge, do what feels natural, even if a bit of mystery never hurt anyone! I honestly believe that you should go on dates. Ask a guy out, try new things. But be honest. If after 2 days, you are still not sure, then ask the guy! No one wants to waste their time! So I say, take control… you roll the dice and see what happens! (and maybe listen to that Finley Quay Song “Dice” too!) 

Roll the Dice!

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Filed under Clichés, Culture, Games People Play, Hate!, Love, Men vs. Women, Poems, Sex, Society, Uncertainty

Everyone Has a Number… Just Don’t Tell Yours…

1, 2, 3... ?

This title is pretty telling to anyone who has ever had the famous “number conversation”… but to all those who have been lucky to have never been asked this dreaded question… here I am to elucidate the issue.

This problem obviously, like many others on this blog does not cater to the somewhat rare species that is the “virgin”, and I sincerely apologise. I will in the future write something on the subject, but for now you will have to read about sex, drugs and rock’n’roll the old fashion way… by my experience… and popular psychological findings (or at least nearly scientific!). Now… I’m probably a hypocrite, but I will admit… I have never been lucky enough (or unlucky enough by the sound of my coupled up friends) to have been in a “long term relationship” that has lasted for more than… 6 months? Why? Well I suppose moving around, changing schools and universities every so often hasn’t exactly helped… and the fact that I am probably the pickiest person when picking out a “mate” (god doesn’t that sound like I’m an animal? argh horrible)… well when picking out a possible “partner” in any case.

A question that can come in any relationship, be it friendship (oh you nosey girls and guys!) or a “i’ve-you-naked-relationship-on-numerous-occasions” type of thing, is (and this needs to be in a slightly larger font for emphasis I think…) :

“So… like… how many men/women have you slept with before me?”

ARGH HOLY JESUS! Why are you asking? Seriously? Neither of us want to know the answer! I mean, logically… if your partner had slept with less that what you were expecting, we all know you’re thinking “oh wow… he’s really inexperienced/such a loser” or something ridiculous in that vein… and if it’s far more that you expected then you’re thinking “oh god, my boyfriend/girlfriend is a man-whore or just plain whore”. Now… I know we shouldn’t judge… but we all do! Never EVER would I tell anyone my number (unless we were very good friends and I wasn’t planing to bumping uglies with that person). The sort of person who asks that question is usually either overconfident ou lacks confidence, but probably is too curious. Many people have and will continue to ask this question, but none of us truly wants to know. Most men over state the truth, most women will take a few men off their list. Why?

Because even in the 21st century… there is a stigma attached to how many people you’ve slept with! Can you believe it? Even after the sexual revolution… women who are deemed “overzealous” with their bodies are still perceived as “dirty skanks” and men as “virile stallions”. It’s a bit ridiculous, and in a perfect world the number of people you have slept with wouldn’t matter… but in the society we live in… it does! That said, marrying a virgin… is still only fashionable in the USA and the Arab countries… and in Europe is seen as a bit “old fashioned” and even strange. But sleeping with a billion people is seen as just as creepy. Men don’t want whores (and yet the want their women experienced) but neither do they want nuns. Women are the same… and even I will admit it, I don’t want to know the girlfriends of my perspective boyfriend. All I want to know is that he is aids and STD free and I’m good to go! But… even saying that, I don’t want to think of him as a gigantic man-magnet. Neither do I want to be his first… but neither do I want to be his millionth conquest. I suppose, we want to feel special… and yet part of a collection (so not to feel too much like so “outsider”).

So, never ask anyone their number. Don’t ask, because whatever answer you get you will most likely be disappointed! I mean… I can even illustrate this with a rather telling example on my part! Ahem, here goes… we women… well we facebook stalk. Don’t lie. We’ve all done it (and even men are getting in on the act now!). Everyone goes on the guys profile their interested in to check for “red flags”. We all do it… I suppose it’s that “modern day morbid curiosity” that everyone’s talking about (but that’s another subject!). In any case… I’ve done it, and I’ve done it recently too. So, I like… a guy called… well let’s call him “B”… I go on his profile… and I start going back over a few months on his wall… to check… well to see how many girls he’s adding as friends… and interacting with (oh god does this sound weird I know!)… and I see at some point a statut update going around the lines of “_________ should be happy his girlfriend facebook rapes his profile! Lol!”… now this is mundane… but it was liked by five guys… and one girl… so I’m guessing the girl = ex-girlfriend… I obviously go the next step to creepyville and check out her profile. Nothing to see, she seems boring and all her profile photos are of animals (how old is she? No, maybe I’m being vindictive… I “sort of” apologise). I start to realise that I’d have prefered not know… because he seems to have broken up with her recently… so I start to think to myself… “omg… Am I his re-bound girl? Does he even like me? Does he only want me for sex? etc etc”. I have just fallen into the “you’re-totally-insane-psychotic-girl”. And… no one wants to be her.

So my advice? Don’t ask, don’t tell. Use your fifth amendment right! And for those who are not american (as I am not either, but I have seen enough episodes of the Good Wife to be a pro now) here is what you have to say if you want to “plead the fifth” :

“No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the landor naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put injeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.”

In other words you can say something along the lines “I refuse to answer the question on the grounds that it may incriminate me”.

So there you go, some wise person said when asked how many people they had sleep with “I’m sorry babe, but you can kiss my ass if you think you’re gunna get a reply to THAT question!”


Filed under Culture, Friends, Hate!, Law, Love, Men vs. Women, Politics, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society

Why are there so many great single girls… and no great single guys?


In all seriousness. Why? I know plenty of amazing single girls… but I can’t say I know a million amazingly cute, intelligent, funny guys. Is there some girls hoovering up all the great men or what? To be completely honest… I know more bat shit crazy women in a stable relationship that actually nice girls in relationships. I’m starting to think that men actually like the needy and and insane type! I can’t tell you how many times a guy has told me about his girlfriend who… won’t let him out with friends… or calls him every 20 minutes wanting to know where he his… or even reading his e-mails on texts! Seriously! Argh! This makes me so mad! I mean sure, reading a text isn’t a big deal! But… I don’t think going through his entire phone is reasonable! Or any of the other things I mentioned!

I had a very interesting conversation today at lunch… all about… why are guys not seeing the amazing girls around them… and choosing… what clearing are crappy, uninteresting girls! I think it must be all the crazy. Men say they hate the drama, but secretly… they want the crazy! Or maybe it’s some special technique these women have… a special type of bait! I suppose that i shall have to try out different techniques to get guys “interested”… but to be honest, anyone can get a guy by shacking their ass and wearing skin-tight transparent clothes! I am starting to think that men are attracted by what seems to be the shy, uncomplicated women… the woman who doesn’t show her whole personality until she has the man tightly in her grasp!

Maybe all we great single girls (and yes I included myself in this!) are single… because we just don’t know how to play the game. If some girls know the rules… then some of us don’t and that must be it! Like I have previously mentioned, love and life in general is a game of poker. Some are great players, some are absolute crap. Some get good hands from time to time… but end up losing out. For my part, I’m the kinda girl who doesn’t know when she has a good game, and plays every hand likes it her last. I hook up, have fun… but nothing sticks. I’m not playing the game I want to play. Maybe this is exactly what is happening.

How do we know what the rules are? How do we get our hand on the manuel? I know that in this metaphor, life is the manuel… but the problem is… not all of us can read it! Ok ok ok enough with the metaphor!

For my part… I’m starting to think that all guys are sleazy disgusting pigs… and women… well we seem to have become needy under-loved people! Which I don’t want to be… so for my part, I’m playing everything cool! Lately I have made some big changes. I’ve given up and abandoned friendships that were not only hurtful, but cruel to be. I’ve started a diet… stopped doing things I shouldn’t be! I’ve even tried to play it cool with friends… trying to be less “call me, call you”. So, I believe that to get a great guy/girl… we have to try something different! But all the while staying yourself!


Filed under Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Love, Men vs. Women, Politics, Sex, Society