Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Everyone lies. Everyone: "Sure boss, I'd love to do the filing tonight!" "No, honey, it doesn't bother me when you and your girlfriends get all hoochied up to go out clubbing!" "No, sweetie, you're the only guy who's ever made me come that hard. No, no one but you has ever made me scream."

And yes, as much as honesty is touted as the best policy -- and I do follow it... sometimes -- is anyone honestly (there's that word again), truly truthful 100% of the time to everyone?

No.

Oh, I can hear the protests starting already, but come on! When was the last time you told a boyfriend or girlfriend, "I'm dumping you because you're an asshole/bitch, you make me feel like shit about myself, and you're a boring fuck"? How about, "You look great, except for that collection of moles on your chin that spell out "Hate me"? Or even, "No, I love hearing about how great your ex- was in bed"?

Okay, so that last one is a pretty extreme example, and not too many people would be too thrilled to hear a great deal about that one. But most of us are pretty quick to set aside the little things in order to make the river of true love flow more smoothly.

And honestly, I don't think there's much wrong with that. I will tell white lies to friends, family, and other loved ones in order to ensure that hurt feelings are kept to a minimum.

I call it harnessing The Bitch. This is the vicious person who lives inside of me that thinks, "Why are you propositioning me? Don't you realize that I wouldn't even consider sleeping with you if you were the last man on Earth? That's what dildos are for!" (or for a better quote, from 10 things I hate about you: "Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?"). This is the honest person that lives in my head that thinks, "I'm no size queen, but what you've got doesn't look like it would satisfy a hamster." This is me, wishing I could unleash The Bitch enough to say, "If you fuck the way you kiss, I'm going to end an evening with you feeling sticky, confused and very let down."

Don't act so shocked. You all have this person in your heads, you just temper him or her, same as I. I do acknowledge her, though. Why do we temper this person? So that people's feelings won't be hurt. You don't tell someone that you're dumping them because they bore you/you're not turned on by them anymore/you've lost interest in them. Instead, you tell them you've found someone else (although this could be true)/that you need to get your shit together and you have to be single to do it/you've found religion and it doesn't allow room for a relationship.

The risk in doing something like that is that it often leaves the other person hoping. Hoping that once you get your shit together/move back to town/get your wild oats sown/have time to sort out your head, etc... that you'll want to get back together.

So every once in awhile, when it comes down to it, you have to be honest. Brutally, painfully honest. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but sometimes honesty ise the best policy. Tell your (now less) significant other that you don't see any kind of future with him or her. Tell them that as much as you may find them special and amazing (okay, there may be some room for lying), that you've grown apart/moved on/moved out of town, and things between the two of you are over.

Another side of this coin is when a friend propositions you/expresses interest in you that isn't reciprocated -- that's when you have to come up with a whole other string of lies/half-truths/full truths that are designed to keep from crushing his or her spirit, yet still get your message across.

Have fun with that one, and let me know what works -- 'cause I've never had any luck with it.
posted by Jen on 8:22 PM

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“We’re gonna need another Timmy!”

In the many years that I’ve been (and don’t tell anyone this, it’s a secret), sexually active, I’ve had some good sex. I’ve had some bad sex. And then, I’ve had some fantastic sex. Awesome sex.

Not just the tearing down the draperies, chandelier in a pile on the floor, how did I get this bruise on my arm/how did we wind up upstairs from the basement? sex, but some really close, sweet, honest and loving sex, too.

Granted, the warm and tender sex is great, but that’s not the kind that you want to sit down and brag talk about with your buddies/girlfriends over beers/coffee. At least, not for very long:

“So, my boyfriend and I had a really nice, sweet session of lovemaking last night. He was so tender and gentle, and it was so great.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”

[sfx: crickets chirping]

On the other hand, who hasn’t called up someone with the, “Oh my Gawd do I have stories for you, we have to get together soon so that I can tell you about this. You want a hint? Check out my upper arm. Another hint? Bean bag chairs.”

Or maybe that’s just me. Not those experiences, I mean [sfx: coughing], but the bragging talking part. I like to share experiences, what can I say?

Anyhow, I will admit that yes, the sweet and tender lovemaking is great. But honestly, that’s the kind of sex you can have with any boyfriend/girlfriend. That’s the kind of sex when the two of you are feeling loving and romantic and want to spend a nice evening/weekend just sharing your love.

Now, since your favourite Drunken Whore isn’t exactly in a boyfriend kind of place right now (as in, not exactly having one at the moment), we’re going to instead focus on the down-and-dirty side of sex. And face it, I know that’s what you guys come here for anyhow.

So, what the hell does my title have to do with raunchy sex-having? Chemistry! (For a further explanation, see the end of this article. I love reaching for my titles). Great, dirty, clothes torn/hanging from every piece of furniture around, we may have set off car/security alarms for a three-block radius sex doesn’t happen all that often. It especially doesn’t happen if you’re banging someone with whom you don’t have great sexual chemistry.

Great sexual chemistry doesn’t happen very often, and it’s a damn shame. Although at the same time, it makes you really value it when you have it. Great sexual chemistry is when you find yourself looking at your partner and going from 0 to horny in less than three seconds because all of a sudden you want nothing more than his cock/her pussy inside/wrapped around you (man, being gender all-encompassing makes for weird sentences). Great sexual chemistry is when you finish fucking, you’re lying there together sweaty, sticky and panting, and you look at one another and do it all over again. And again.

Great sexual chemistry... is when your interests are similar enough or overlap enough that you have a vast array of sexual experiences to have together, and it’s not a huge stretch to explore the others’ fantasies. In less vague language, I’m talking about a couple where one has perhaps an interest in BDSM, the other is into latex/vinyl, and the couple is both open-minded enough and willing enough to encompass both interests in the bedroom. It’s not as much of a stretch as it sounds.

Great sexual chemistry can happen straight off the bat; you see each other from across a crowded room and ten minutes later you’re fucking in the parking lot. I’ve been told it happens. Sexual chemistry is something that can be instantaneous, and for a lot of people is. I find that for me the initial honeymoon period/horniness period of a new partner is initially hard to distinguish from the sexual chemistry part. That first little while, when the two of you are spending all of your time fucking and it’s more the idea of the sex than the sex itself that’s a turn-on, that’s the honeymoon period.

But great sexual chemistry outlasts that, and means that you still want to fuck each other rotten after several months of dating, after the initial thrill is gone, but you still get wet/hard from kissing/being close. It’s when you still fantasize about your partner when you beat off, and can’t wait to have anything from plain ol’ vanilla to whips/chains/ropes/costume sex with them. Again and again and again.

Just like love, great sexual chemistry doesn’t come around an awful lot, but (still like love) when it’s there and it’s great, boy, is it great. You can still have great sex without it, but (and the corny side of me is going to say still like love), it certainly elevates the experience.

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And to explain the title reference, bear with me here: over ten years ago there was a television show on called Dinosaurs. One of the television shows that the characters would watch was something called, “Mr. Wizard’s World.” Mr. Wizard would conduct highly dangerous science experiments, and he always had a little buddy/assistant called Timmy – who would promptly get killed off during each experiment because he wasn’t using any safety precautions (Mr. Wizard wouldn’t give him any). Examples of this would include things like staring directly into a rocket booster when it was being ignited, and so on. After Timmy died, Mr. Wizard would come out from where he was safe, see the dead kid, and holler, “We’re gonna need another Timmy!” That all said and done, science experiments are related to chemistry, and there you have my title. Shut up, it’s my column.
posted by Jen on 11:22 AM

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I wanna feel you from the inside...

He pushed me up against the wall and pulled my shirt off over my head. Pressing his body against mine, I could feel his hard cock pushing against me, and it made me even wetter. All I could think about was how desperately I wanted to feel him fuck me, feel his skin against mine, his mouth biting my shoulder, my neck, his tongue deep inside my mouth, his hands on my tits... I dropped my hands to his waist and undid his pants as fast as I could, still desperately kiss him all the while. My main thought was to get his clothes off and get him on the bed, but he had me pinned against the wall, and he wouldn’t let me move. I slid his pants and boxers down as far as I could reach, then used my foot to shove them off the rest of the way. Hungrily, I reached for his cock, but he intercepted my hands and held them above my head, then used his foot to nudge my legs further apart. He held my wrists in one hand, and used his other to guide the head of his cock back and forth across my wet lips, teasing me and making me want him even more...

Sorry, I think I switched up websites there for a bit. I was going to title this post, “I want to fuck you like an animal,” but then I thought that wouldn’t make it very work-safe, so instead I took the second line of the song. Make it a little friendlier, dontchaknow.

There’s been a lot of discussion in various weblogs lately about how it is that women always seem to go for assholes, leaving all the nice guys behind and spanking their meat to pornography (another discussion for another column). As always, when it comes to sex- and relationship-related issues, I have something to (finally) say about that.

I’ve heard it time and time again: women want assholes. I’ve seen many of my male friends take this really to heart and play it out, finding some measure of success with it and having it even become a part of their personality, something that I find rather sad. Personally, seeing this put into play just makes me want to go and start hitting people things.

I’m going to do something I rarely do, and that’s make a blanket statement: women do not want assholes. Who would want someone that treats them like shit? Few women I know (i.e., none) have ever said, “I wish my boyfriend/husband would ignore me/my desires/my wishes/my interests/my needs/my feelings.” Okay, I’ve never heard any women say as much, but I don’t think it’s a common statement.

At the same time, women do not want men who put them up on a pedestal. Ha-ha, you thought I was going to make this easy for you, didn’t you? No way. Yes, we want to be treated well and respected and all that other stuff, but we also want guys to realize that we are human and fallible and we do things like shit and piss and bleed and cry and feel miserable and feel happy, and make sense and not make sense and feel horny and feel not horny and all those other things that you, too, feel.

Men do not get an exclusive on the gross bodily functions, nor do they get an exclusive on bad days. And for the record, just ‘cause a woman’s having a bad day doesn’t mean it’s in any way related to her period. Some of us are very unaffected by our periods, I’ll have you know.


But anyhow. We want someone who’ll listen to us and not try to immediately solve things. We want someone who can commiserate and relate and say, “Boy, your boss really does sound like a jerk,” or, “yeah, she really was being a bitch to you.” Some guys don’t do this, and that’s what we have girlfriends for – they’re the boyfriends we don’t sleep with... unless there’s a sleepover and baby doll nighties involved, and the pillow fights and the oil come out... well, that’s another column.

Okay, you’re tired of all of this – you want to know where the asshole factor comes in, right? Well, he can come into the bedroom, within reason. He’s the guy who’s not afraid to take charge, who’s not afraid to push us up against a wall and really initiate sex. The cuddling, sweet, massage approach is all well and good, but sometimes – and here’s another surprise about women – we just really want to get fucked, and fucked hard, and fucked right. If you’ve been with us long enough, you know how to do this by now, right?

This is where the lack of pedestal is important. Recognize that as your girlfriend, we do get special privilege, but that doesn’t mean that we lose our sexual desires and needs that existed before the girlfriend label. Your girlfriend is still the same chick that you plowed standing up outside a bar one drunken night, or that you took from behind in the car on the side of the road, where you’d pulled over because you were too damn horny to wait until you got to someone’s apartment. Just because we become your girlfriend doesn’t mean we don’t still want the hot, sweaty, monkey sex.

Of course... (oh, how many times can I go back and forth on this and confuse you totally?)... we also love the cuddling. That’s why we have a boyfriend, and not just random hookups in a bar; we want the cuddling and the love as well as the hot, sweaty, monkey sex. But the important thing is that we don’t want cuddling to always have to lead to sex. That’s kinda frustrating, and not necessarily why we want the cuddling in the first place. Show us physical affection, but don’t always turn physical affection into getting physical, if you know what I mean.

The appeal of the asshole? The mystery. The uncertainty. The excitement of not knowing where things stand. The length of time the attraction for the asshole exists? Eh, about three weeks. Maybe a bit longer if the sex is really great. Sure, be a little elusive and whatnot all you want at the start, but if a girl can’t rely on you, she’s going to find someone else to start bedding soon enough.

At least, that’s how I’ve always done it. I’ve given up on the uncertainty – so not worth my time. If someone can’t recognize that I’m worth their time and attention, why should I invite ‘em into my boudoir?
posted by Jen on 12:54 PM

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