I honestly haven’t had a lot to write about lately here on the good ol’ Persephone because what I am expected to write about as Awkwardetteâ„¢ is a lot of stuff I am not doing: having sex, dating, etc. Yes, I have reached the fabled stage of female singledom known as Bitterness. I honestly think about the idea of going on a date and meeting a new guy and going through that drama of giving a shit about what I’m wearing or the words coming out of my mouth and I want to die.
Have I told you lately how I fucking hate OkCupid? Hate it the way you hate a sibling when you’re eight years old, and they keep tattling on you and getting you into all this trouble and then the second your mom turns around they sock you in the arm, but like, when you say something about it, you get yelled at even though you’re totally not the one that did anything wrong. It’s bullshit.
There’s been one issue looming over my mind for the past month or so, which runs counter to probably everything I’ve ever said about sex before – When is it appropriate to begin a sexual relationship with someone? If you asked me two months ago, I would have probably said five minutes into meeting someone. The antiquated, Puritanical concept of â€œwaitingâ€ couldn’t get in my way. But after a few encounters with the oxytocin monster and watching my friends deal with guys who bail the second after things get physically intimate, my outlook on the situation has changed.
Have you ever had a hook-up that, while just a hook-up, had your knees shaking the next day just thinking about it? You’ll grin at yourself thinking of all the dirty things you did, and you feel the dreaded heart pangs, and you just can’t get that person off of your mind. I fucking hate that shit. I spend the next day in a long-term post-coital haze. I usually spend this time reading celebrity magazines, and I try to get a mani/pedi, and I shower like 10 times hoping that if I can just get the smell off of me I will be way less likely to remember it, and therefore be 10 times less crazy.
We’ve all probably watched way more romantic comedies than we’d like to ‘fess up to. Truth is, romantic comedy is my favorite genre. It was good enough for Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams (The Glass Menagerie is a romantic comedy, right?), so it’s good enough for me. One problem: as much as the When Harry Met Sallys of the world make me laugh and feel giddy and good inside temporarily, they fill my brain with an impressive amount of bullshit. I’ve had to unlearn a lot of this bullshit, especially in 2011. 2011 was a particularly difficult year for â€œfriends with benefitsâ€ learning, and I’m not even talking about the creepily similar J Tims and Ashton Kutcher vehicles on the subject that both came out this year alone and were so rife with terrible advice and false ideals that I can’t even really address it further – so here is my attempt to set us straight on doing it with friends.
Navigating the unchartered territories (fitting that I actually originally misspelled this as terrortories) of getting to know a new partner can be exciting, thrilling, nerve-wracking, etc. Debating what to reveal and what not to reveal early on has kept some of us tossing and turning (even though, I agree, that’s probably kind of weird). When is it appropriate to start talking about exes? Should I tell him how many people I’ve slept with? Do you think it’s okay if I talk about how little money I make? Does he need to know I am battling with severe mental illness? Wait, what now? Continue reading
So, like the rest of you, I am running around like a crazy woman with not nearly enough time on her hands, taking care of stupid crap like buying presents and being filled with holiday cheer. I thought you might like some light reading to cheer you up, and so today I bring you a new list: some of my favorite in sexy blogging.
This having casual sex thing has been really, really helpful for me. In the few months since I’ve started doing it, I’ve learned a lot more about what feels good for me sexually, opened my mind up to things I’ve never considered about my sexuality and I’ve met some pretty good people along the way. The one thing that I think is most difficult for me, and something I am just now starting to conceptualize, is when to say no.
There’s a false misconception floating around that you have to have anal sex in order to be paranoid about your ass hair. Well, well, let’s set the record straight–anyone, including you, can be all weird about your butt hair. Continue reading
Babeland is more than just a sex toy shop. The folks who work there are not simply cashiers or shop workers–they’re known as sex educators. And that’s exactly what two Babeland employees, Lauren and Lila, did. I attended and got majorly schooled at the workshop “The Art of Oral Sex” at their NYC SoHo location (which I had never been to, and is an absolutely beautiful and spacious haven of dildos, lube and porn, oh my!). (Warning: NSFW!) Continue reading
So, I’m kinda into beards. Not like full on beards, but a little scruff or 5 o’clock shadow is a nice, manly distraction from the fact that I am more likely than not making out with an emotional infant. I know a lot of women who are into men who actually have preferences on facial hair. I wonder whether or not we hold as strong of opinions on dude pubes. Continue reading
Dear Guys and Girls of the World Who Drop off the Face of the Planet After What You Led Me to Believe Was a Really Good Date,
Look, I understand that it’s really fucking hard for you to go on a date, or several, that may not have lived up to your expectations. The company was nice enough, but there’s no sparks for you, no chemistry, no whatever. The other person is obviously into you, and it would hurt YOU so badly to see them hurt. So, you end the date on a nice note, perhaps an open-ended note that leaves a little room for interpretation, because your generous soul wants to give them maybe a few minutes of happiness. You gotta give â€˜em hope.
I get anxious about going on dates for a few different reasons. Am I going to say the wrong thing? Am I not showing enough cleave? Most importantly: what the fuck do I do with my pubic hairs? Continue reading
Last week, I got a start on â€œProject Meet Dudesâ€ completely by surprise. I met a guy at a friend’s birthday party. We started talking because of our mutual distrust of Andrew Cuomo, and it turns out we have mad chemistry. Continue reading
When I have sex, the last thing on my mind is the fact that I am, well, having sex. Something I think about a lot when getting it on is my chin. Sounds super weird, but I really wish I could forget about my chin. The only time I’m not thinking about my chin is when I’m wasted, in which case I am usually trying to figure out how long it’s going to last before I have to awkwardly throw on clothes and tip toe to the bathroom.