David E. Kelly starts off with these brilliant shows that eventually get weird and schticky, but so far, Boston Legal is keeping consistently watchable and even loveable.
In a recent episode, William Shatner’s effervescent Alzheimer’s victim-warrior lawyer, Denny Crane, states that when his mind rots to the state of a two-year-old child’s, his bride-to-be has been instructed to euthanize him by way of face-sitting.
Yes, he wants to be killed by snatch.
I’ve written before that the whole face-sitting thing, I can go there, that’s part of the job, I guess, but it does little for me, really. I don’t dislike it, it’s just not a reason to cancel going to the movies, y’know?
That said, I would absolutely feel compelled to give a guy what he asks for from time to time, particularly knowing how wildly fetishistic this love of face can be for guys. If you’re a chick and you don’t get it, try to be a guy for a second:
You’re obsessed with pussy and tits. You have been for a really, really long time. Ass, it’s nice, too. Especially bouncy ass. Very nice, you think. You’ll take two, and don’t call in you in the morning.
Now, you’re a guy who’s in his favourite position – on his back – and not only has this woman come to you, but you don’t even need to sit up to see her. Nope. You’re reclining, life is good, and oh, my God – she’s sitting on you. That nice bouncy round ass is on top of your chest, her twat – that Mecca, that daily fantasy, that height of all things good in your life – is resting on your lowly lips. And, dear god, when she bounces this way or that, presto (or, the gods have smiled, and she’s leaning over and using the headboard for support, and there they are, front and centre – dangling, even). Looming overhead like giants in the Amazon, her breasts. Oh. Oh, ho, ho. Yes. That, there, don’t move – never, ever move – stay right THERE.
Welcome to Male Psychology 101.
Of course, they won’t tell you this. They’ll just say, “I like it. It feels good. You look good up there.” Articulate much, guys?
But maybe it’s hard to quantify. There’s this old Canadian rock song from the late ‘80s by The Northern Pikes, and the song lyrics go, “She ain’t pretty, she just looks that way.”
And it’s kinda how I feel about sex. You may have noticed, I’m an enthusiast. Been known to dabble a tad from time to time in the carnal arts.
But sex looks wack sometimes, man. Face-sitting’s just one of many somewhat amusing scenarios we find ourselves in. Blowjobs, they look kinda silly. Toe-sucking, yes, weird. (Feels great though. Really.) Bondage, well… S&M? Oh, my. It’s a regular freakshow, isn’t it?
Or is it? I mean, every now and then the writer me steps outside and becomes the comedian observer me. He’s doing what to me, where? With what? A kitchen utensil? Shit, that’s weird, I’d think.
But I probably enjoyed myself.
And that’s part of the thing about sex. You sometimes just need to suspend your judgment. Yes, weird things go down. Yes, you have preconceived notions. Yes, you’re a little mystified at how that could possibly be a good thing. But do it anyway.
It’s like sushi. Who knew?
Category Archives: Men’s Department
Vixen Moves: "Wake Me Up Before You Blow-Blow"
There are some things that, if you’ve never done them, you’re simply not a vixen, no matter how hard you kid yourself.
Love, sex, life — they’re all made better with surprises.
That said, if you’ve never woken up at four in the morning, rolled over, and snaked down your sleeping lover with kisses from head to toe, until they’ve awoken, and then gone down on them, well, you’re really missing a fantastic experience, and you ain’t the vixen you could be.
I guess guys are more open to night moves than women might be, but me, well, my lovers have carte blanche to roll over and begin playing with me anytime they want. They know there’s a chance I will say no or push ‘em away, but a better chance I’ll say yes, and most importantly, they know I’d never fault’em for trying. And you shouldn’t either. You should never leave your lover feeling trepidatious about sharing their desire with you. That should go without saying, but fuck, one could write a book about it.
This kind of unsolicited move is the sort of thing a guy just loves. “She thought about my cock? By herself? Way over there, on the other side of the bed? And, oh, my god. Look how bad she wants it. Ooh… God, I’m a lucky guy.”
I’m being cutesy about it, but it’s true. Even if you go down on your man and don’t bring him to orgasm, I bet he’ll be more affectionate towards you and feel more secure about how you feel regarding him. It’s a really, really hot moment, but it can also be an incredibly tender and affectionate moment. I love the intimacy it provokes. It’s hard to get behind the wall of The Common Male, but once you do, it’s a great place to be. Doing things like this, it takes you there.
As a woman, you simply need to understand the love a guy has for his cock.
It’s the only toy he gets to play with his entire life. He never needs to change the batteries, it’s there morning, noon, and night. When everyone else forsakes him, his penis won’t. It’s the source of some of the best physical feelings he’s ever had (and the worst).
It’s not just some appendage that signals he’s ready for sex, and too many women are dismissive of that incredible bond a guy has with his cock. All you have to do is imagine the lifelong weirdness of dressing rooms, the unwanted uprisings, the intra-guy size competitions that don’t even need words, and you begin to get a sense of this strange alternate universe inhabited only by Owners of Penises.
What you also have to understand is that you should never just pounce yourself on a penis in the middle of the night. Some surprises are bad. Plus, chicks can make the mistake of assuming a middle-of-the-night erection is a result of him being next to her. Nice. Pigs look good in flight, too, and I just bought my season boarding pass for Mount Hell.
It’s biology, simply nature, and probably has little, if anything, to do with you. Get over yerself, honey. It’s a penis.
So, you’ve got to ignore that erect cock if it’s there, but it’s likely not, and start the games by gently kissing your way up and down his torso. Increase friction as he’s starting to wake.
Going tender all the way is nice, and definitely an option, depending on mood and the kind of day you know he’s had, but there’s something surreal and wild about being woken for someone’s primal desire, and that’s speaking as a woman. I can’t even fathom how a guy would feel being woken for a reasonably primal session of body bites and a blowjob. (Feel free to offer testimony, boys. I’m all ears.)
But being a playful kinda gal myself, I’ve seen the result of a man being awoken for that, and I’m guessing those shudders, gasps, and moans were a ringing endorsement.
So, long story short: wake his body before you wake his cock, otherwise the experience isn’t going to be as much bang for the buck, or worse, could be a blatant failure. Take the time to tease him awake. It’s simply more fun, and it should serve to put you more in the mood, too.
Another thing you need to know, if his penis begins to grow flaccid during the experience, a) you’re probably not doing anything wrong, and b) don’t keep working it.
It’s a blood-flow thing, and you need to let his biology get what it wants. Move away from a softening penis, if you’re wanting it hard again, and start biting, licking, sucking in other areas. Engage in ass play. Anything you want, so long as you’re drawing all the blood away from the penis. But you want to keep a hand on his balls or shaft, just gently squeezing or touching, not in an erotic way, but in a “I’m still here, baby” kind of way. Remember, cock play is as nurturing as it can be for a guy sometimes, and if you’re doing a special treat like this, don’t let him forget why you’re there. But don’t keep arousing the beast, either, since you’re going for longevity and this will help you get there. Just be present.
Having a hand on the resting member also tells you when he’s hardened again. Then, you make your way back down. Take him in your mouth and do what you need to do.
I say, make it as slow and long and doting of a blowjob as you can muster. Have spurts of primal savagery, but be mostly attentive, steady, and tender, not because we’re avoiding savage, but because this special-event head should be a long session and you need to conserve energy. (Be PowerSmart!)
Between the intermittent moments of cuddling and the kissing and all that, I tend to try to stretch a middle-of-the-night special-event blowjob to an hour or so of a long, drawn out tease, with one or two “rest” breaks of five or so minutes in between. (And you can remove your hand during the breaks, maybe lie down at his side, your head on his chest, your hands exploring his body, with a knee/calf resting bent over his groin, maybe making gentle tugging motions from time to time. You’re still there, but in a way that says you’re taking some time to recoup, ”but I’ve not forgotten”.)
If he’s starting to want to be inside you, tell him he can (and should) do that in the morning, that this is about him. Seriously, let him have his time in the sun, and make sure he understands that’s what this is. It’s about him. For him. By you. Happily. It’s knowing someone wants you pleasured that’s as hot as being pleasured, and don’t forget that.
The blowjob technique itself is pretty much the same as what I’ve described before (see “Good Girl’s Guide to Giving Great Head, parts one and two). It’s the waking-the-body-up bit that really is imperative, particularly when he’s got an auto-erection in the night. (If he’s been lying there cupping the round of your ass or breast while spooning you, odds are there are external factors at work. Still, wake the body before the beast.)
And, ladies? If you’ve never had the pleasure of being awoken for sex, what have you been waiting for? Look your lover in the eye and say, “I’ve never been woken up for sex before and I hear it’s a little more surreal and intense. I’d love it if you’d take me in the night sometime. Surprise me.”
If your guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, tell him to do so via smothering your sleeping body with kisses. There’s nothing quite so lovely and nice as being awoken by lips dancing down your body. You’d be surprised how much your body will want it, if you let it go there.
I keep saying that the goal as a good lover is simply to feel the moments and go with them, but really, why do we always wait to be in the moment before we feel it? Let’s make the moments happen. Initiate. Women do it far too little. What, you’re concerned he’ll REJECT you? Have you been present on Planet Earth long? Man reject woman for sex, free sex? It happens, but so does lightning striking humans. It’s a long shot. Run with the odds. The plus is, you’ll feel like a goddess when it works out.
C’mon. Live a little. Wake the beast. He’ll play nice for you.
Sexy: Quantifiable? Bogart to the Rescue
Every day, somebody somewhere sputters, “They ain’t makin’ ‘em like they usedta.”
And this is true. So, there I was, watching The Maltese Falcon, thinking about what it is about Bogey that gets me hot and bothered every single goddamned time. See, a guy recently emailed me to lightly chastise me for erroneously attributing the “When you’re slapped, you’ll take it and like it,” line of Bogey’s to him making Peter Lorre his bitch. (It has been at the bottom of this blog’s sidebar since day one, the bottom of my original blog’s sidebar, too.) I told him I thought I was right, and just moved on (and, yes, I am right). Today, I dug out the disc and began watching it, savouring the flick along with my toasted and buttered peasant bread, and dank, dank New Zealand cheddar, and dark coffee.
And just like the butter, I slowly melted as I watched Bogey; lying there on the floor, longing for a man who has that same mix of brashness and humour and sensitivity and lust and brood to step out of the shadows to a saxophone soundtrack playing behind the scenes in my life.
Goddamned right they ain’t making them like they used to. They’ve never made ‘em like Bogey. It’s a fucking crime his career wasn’t longer.
What makes him sexy? Scratch that. What is sexy? What is it that turns us on and keeps us revving? How do we define an idea, an intangible? For some women, it’s a guy wearing only a jock under seersucker pants. For others, it’s cracked and aged black leather paired with jeans and a wife-beater and topped with stubble (sigh). For still more, it’s that metrosexual gleam that comes from the coif and the couture.
But Bogey, he had none of that. A face like a weathered horse, the man was no Errol Flynn. His voice had that gravelly vocal twang and he always had that inimitable sparkle in his eye when he grinned or leered. He oozed sexuality in a time of repression, and because he didn’t have the lustful good looks of the A-List stars, he got away with it. He was an average guy that could eyeball a woman in a way that conveyed exactly the kind of confident and daring lover you knew he’d be. You just knew he’d pin you against the wall and devour you. You knew he’d be as comfortable submitting to you as dominating you. It just showed.
There’s something about the way a man can unapologetically own a woman through his looks (or vice versa), yet offer no intimidation by ever even suggesting it’s about ownership. There’s something about expressing lust through your eyes – real, true, now-here, for-as-long-as-we-can lust. And Bogey broke the ground and set the pace for an entire legion of men who’d grow up wanting to have what he exemplified. Bogey set a new standard for sexy, something we’re still trying to figure out in this day and age of plastic surgery and air-brushing, and something we keep missing the mark of.
It’s not about the dimples, the white teeth, the hard body, the fine coif. It’s about you knowing what you want and knowing how to show it. It’s about learning how to communicate with your eyes, with your lips, with your words, with your body language. How to think something like, “I’d love to throw you down and keep you there until we’re both utterly spent and gasping in musky pools of our own sweat” and let it be read only through your eyes and the purse of your lips.
And Bogey, he had that. Throw into it the ability to adopt dozens of different smiles, the coy mannerisms of his foot shuffle, his playful body language and suggestive head tilts, the way he searched a room or his scene’s companion for changes in mood and worked with it, and that incredible focus he had in his gaze, and the guy could be 5’1 and a buck-10, and he’d still have the sex appeal of an animal. Some guys just have it, and Bogey, he did.
I’ve known a couple guys who had it, and to this day I see their faces in my mind some nights when I’m alone, or even with a man. They’re always unforgettable, those guys, but it’s that gleam in the eye you remember. Yep. There’s something about a gleam… and it’s one of the reasons leaving the lights on during sex is so fucking hot. Too many of us can’t muster that gleam outside the act itself, so leaving the lights enables you to see your lover drinking you in like that… well, mm, there’s not many images that you just want to freeze-frame forever, but that’s sure as hell one of them.
Me, I’m very conscious of how and what I emote with my eyes. There are guys who set my eyes a blazin’ and I make a point of letting that show. Those nights, I don’t even have to mention that sex is on the mind, it’s just that damned obvious. It’s not needy or desperate, it’s confident and suggestive. You don’t even have to say the words. It’s like seeing a movie with a great director pulling the strings, some things are left unsaid but are unmistakably clear in intent. It’s fucking hot, whoever’s doing it, and it’s part of what defines sexy. Knowing what you want, and being ballsy enough to show it. Or just damned well taking it (when consent is obvious).
When it comes to men, it’s a pity there aren’t more Bogeys. Or Js. Or Clints. Or Newmans. Or Depps. Sure, the latter are pretty boys, but it’s more than that. They discovered sexy, what it really means, what it really is. That it’s a quality, not a look, not an image, not a brand name. It’s just a thing inside you that you learn to put on display, and it’s uniquely you, whatever it is. You find your way to that place, that confident spot, and it compensates immeasurably. It just shows.
Unleashing Your Vixen: Moves From the Bottom
Woman on Bottom bravely asked a few of those questions most women don’t ask because they’re too embarrassed. How does a woman, under her lover, get involved and change the pace of things when he’s thrusting away? And also, does a Vixen’s role change when it’s lovemaking as opposed to fucking, and vice versa?
Let’s tackle part two first. The difference between “lovemaking” and “fucking” is a mood, an edge. Fucking’s when animalism comes out to play. It’s when the emotions hit a fever pitch. Lovemaking’s true intimacy and tends to be more about exploring your lover (if you’re doing it right, that is) and expressing how you feel. Now, this is very much in theory. I don’t know about your lovelife, but those distinctions apply well to mine.
So, then, here’s the thing. You do the same stuff. It’s not that complicated. It’s just about the edge and how hard you go for it — so to speak.
For fucking, you bite a little more, a little harder. You dig your heels deeper, your fingernails scratch harder. You thrust or squeeze or whatever you do, faster, harder, and more greedily. It’s a mood thing. The actions are essentially all the same.
It’s kind of the difference between pedalling a bike along a nice, flat seashore, and taking in all the scenery, working consistently and over a long period, versus getting that bike up a monster hill with the sweating, teeth-gritting, and panting that comes with it. You go with the mood.
I really don’t think you need to worry too much about changing things up. Learn to just go with the moment. And if you apply the wrong amount of intensity, who cares? So you’ve gotten a little overeager in lovemaking and it switches gears a little to some down’n’dirty fucking. Is that really so wrong? Stop overthinking it. Go with it. Feel the moment and see where it takes you.
Odds are, accidentally switching to fucking from lovemaking will leave you both spent and laughing and thrilled. Hardly an unfortunate accident.
All right. Back to the beginning.
He’s over you, in you, on you. Thrusting. His eyes are closed, he’s concentrating, keeping his rhythm, and he’s used to you doing this – very, very little – so he’s not really too worried about you. Occasionally he plants a kiss on your neck, a token reminder that in other galaxies, in alter-existences, this tango would be danced by two. He continues thrusting, biting on his bottom lip now, clenching his eyes shut, maybe imagining what it would be like if you suddenly couldn’t get enough of him, and you start to think, “Geez. It’d be nice if I felt a little more involved. What should I do first?”
The easiest thing to do is always to start nibbling on his neck, biting, sucking, and nibbling on his neck. Keep it light and simple – hickeys are fun for folks who can get away with it, but are a real pain in the ass when we can’t, and I’m speaking from experience, when a hickey caused a world of grief for me at work. After all, that’s why we wear shirts: Put the fucking hickey on the shoulder, on the chest, on the ass, anywhere you want, but think twice about the neck.
Don’t spend too long on the neck, if shifting the mood’s what you want to do. Begin sinking your teeth into his shoulder, biting a bit.
While you’re dining on Grade-A shoulder, you can reach around him. Press your palms flat on his shoulderblades and drive your hands firmly, with an awful lot of friction, all down his back, over his ass. Squeeze his cheeks, dig your nails in if you want to, and maybe even use a finger to tease him in the crack of his anus. If you’ve been seldom involved, then THAT will should show him that something turned your lightbulb on. “I’ve been reading,” you can tell him.
During all this, you really, really become absolutely in the moment.
Focus on how things feel – know what’s happening to your body. Focus on his rigid girth sliding in and out of you, how warm and good that cock feels, how it feels when it’s moving from shallow into deeper passes and back again. Focus on the slapping sounds, really try to follow what’s happening with your lover’s body.
Feel the moment, like I said, and let it take you where you should go. Be the moment, Grasshopper.
Let the moment lead you, don’t worry about “But Steff said shoulder-back-palms…” NO, I suggested it. Mostly, just let the moment and what you really wanna do deep down in that dirty place you usually ignore.
As you grow to study your lover’s moves more and more, you’ll be able to start anticipating things,& you’ll know what it takes to really heighten the moment, via thrusting, biting, whatever, but that knowledge comes from studying – how does he move, what feels best for you?
If you shift yourself slightly, does his penis hit somewhere else inside you, a better place? Know these feelings.
It’s different for every single one of us, so you need to be the documentarian who’s keeping notes on how to vamp up her own sex life. Capische?
So, as you’re nibbling/biting/sucking/putting those god-given lips to good use — and those hands, they should always be working the moment one way or another, even if you’re rubbing your own clit as he thrusts (they like that, too) — you find his rhythm and you respond.
I don’t care if he’s 280 pounds – you should be strong enough to start doing some thrusting in sync with his. Every time his pelvis lifts, yours sinks back into the mattress. When he lowers to thrust into you, you raise your pelvis up into his. You thrust as hard as you can, on beat, every time.
It’s easier to thrust on the bottom if you have your knees bent and your feet planted — or with legs wrapped around him — but as you exercise those lumbar muscles and lower ab muscles, you’ll start getting stronger and better at thrusting in nearly any position you find yourself in. If you learn how to move from the hips themselves instead of using your whole groin area to thrust, you’ll find the movements to be sharper, more intense, and with more payback at his end (and thus at yours).
And it’s important to get your muscles stronger so you can thrust in any position, because there’s not a lot of men who don’t love the feeling of having a woman’s legs wrapped right around their waist during sex.
What’s really great about wrapping your legs around a guy, when things are heating up and you’re really into the moment, you can use your legs to pull him as tight and hard and deep into you as possible. Your legs will be wrapped around the small of his back at this point. After he’s thrust down into you, squeeze and hold him there, tight. For men, I’m told most of their sensation’s both at the head of the penis or the base of the shaft, so when you’re pulling him in hard, he’ll be really, really enjoying the moment. Keep your legs there but release some pressure, and let him resume thrusting, but if you want to be playful, you can cutely instruct him, “Mine. Stay!” Or something along those lines. Get dirtier if you want to, since I find that fun. Be careful, though, because this could feel TOO good for him and you might prematurely end your fun.
The thing about talking during sex, though, and I’ve been guilty of stupidity on this front like almost everywoman in the world, is that it’s important to try and steer away from routine things. Keep the sentiments short and to the point, and keep the focus on action, not conversation so much.
Say things, but don’t expound, unless it’s about something happening then and there that can be improved or changed.
The more you say, the more you run the risk of saying the wrong thing and wrecking the mood. Let’s face it, during sex, our brains aren’t getting nearly the blood nor oxygen it desires, so let’s not overwork the thing, shall we? Keep the blood where it belongs. Flowing in your loins.
Back to using your legs. It’s funny that so many women think there’s nothing they can do being under a guy. It’s just a silly thought.
Using your legs defines how everything feels. Using your legs to change your body angles even slightly affects the way his cock feels (to both him and you) as he slides in and out. Some positions allow you to feel him even deeper, harder.
The thing is, you need to get into those positions, you need to explore them.
Wrapping legs around the hips, a great start.
So’s intertwining your legs lengthwise with his and locking them into place via scooping your foot under his shins or something can allow you to use your muscles then to clench everything in your abdominal and vaginal and anal region. This can really make it a nice, tight, arousing fit for your man of choice. It tightens all the muscles so he’s getting more of a vice grip on his shaft, something most men’ll tell you is a good thing – but, AGAIN, too much of a good thing can result in him blowing his load early, especially if having you involved is a shock to his system.
Therefore, don’t let the moment become a marathon, hey?
One of my all-time favourite moves, and I’m not sure quite what I like about it so much, but it’s probably along the lines that it has an awful lot of deep sensation and is closest to some of the classic moves like doggy style, is the one in this photo. All you need to do is either push him back a little or ask him to kneel for a second, then pull your legs up in front of his chest and put your ankles over his shoulder. This position feels so goddamned good but you need to be a little flexible to pull it off. (I’m not some size 6 with yoga classes under her belt, but yeah, I can bend. You might surprise yourself, too. Try it. If it hurts, you can always stop. Bet it feels purty good, though.)
Personally, I find it excellent for low-back problems, but that’s not going to apply universally. If you can handle it, do it, because men have a lot to love about this position, too. Guys are visual and they absolutely love watching their penis slide in and out of a woman, and this position not only gives them the vantage point from which to see that, but unlike doggy and a few other positions, it allows them to see your face as they take you to the edge – and your breasts as they bounce side to side and up and down with every thrust the men make. Seeing the face, though, there’s something undeniably amazing about knowing it’s you who’s caused that look of agonized ecstasy to spill across a person’s face, and I suppose it’s one of the factors I enjoy about this position. I love watching him watching me.
Finally, the easiest, and still one of my faves, and allows for some of the sensation of the above position without you having to ask him to move, is while he’s thrusting, simply use your hands to pull your knees up to your chest (by his shoulders) in a classic knee-to-chest leg-stretch. A lot of feeling, allows for a really deep thrust, and he’s guaranteed to love it. You can alter the sensation here, too, by moving back and forth between allowing your back round out (sort of like the cat pose in yoga) and then arch away from him. It’ll drastically affect how it feels, but definitely be careful if it’s your first time trying those, since it could be a bit challenging on a virgin back. But, yeah, back and forth — arching, rounding — subs in for thrusting, giving him the same amount of contribution from you, but in a sensationally different manner. Give it a go.
As your legs tire a bit, you can take breaks by letting your legs wrap around him again. I advise going back and forth between these positions during a single session, if you’re looking to change things up a bit. A moment or two in this position, a moment or two in that.
But, hey, there’s a lot to be said for seeing one thing through, too. Every time is different. And should be.
Just GO with it. Stop thinking! Start feeling! Ignore society’s advice to act on logic, not emotion. Feel the moment and let it take you where you should go. That’s all it takes.
And don’t worry — “feeling the moment” will take you to newer, bolder, more different places as time passes, because the lover you are within will change and grow as you lighten up and think less. Being the best lover we can be doesn’t happen over night, it takes years, decades, because it’s not just about skill — it’s about being truly open and comfortable with yourself, and that’s the journey we’re all after for the whole of our lives.
And here’s where it really starts to take hold.
There’s more on this topic to come.
(The photo is from SexyFX.com, an awesome site.)
Unleashing Your Vixen: Some Serious Thoughts
Do you ever have those moments when clarity comes up behind you with a baseball bat and beats the hell out of you?
You get up, groggy, woozy, disoriented, but shit, you know better now, man.
I’ve been avoiding getting into this Vixen thing. The problem with procrastination is that you avoid things so much that you fail to even become aware of why the avoidance is there in the first place.
But then clarity comes along with that fucking bat and, sooner or later, you clue the hell in. Like I did about 30 minutes ago. For some reason, today I feel like I’m Frodo walking across that marshland with all the corpses under the surface of the pondwater. I feel like I’m about to go under, like there’s some kinda tether wrapped around my heart and strung to the reeds below the surface, tugging me down and trying to seduce me into the dark.
It sounds really intense, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. Sure, it feels like that, but it’s a really surreal feeling, like there’s a bubble around me, like there’s all these dead little faces floating around me of people who think they’re alive, but really just aren’t. That I’m sitting around in utter silence on a freezing day in February might be adding to those Dali-esque proportions, so maybe I’ll just browse my iTunes here and stoke up a change of pace. When in doubt, go with the Butthole Surfers, that’s my policy.
This week, the week that follows Valentine’s Day, is the least favourite of my year. In a span of six days falls the anniversary of when the docs found a grapefruit-sized tumour in my mother’s belly and her birthday. Yes, that’s been on my mind. She has been on my mind an awful lot, particularly in relation to this topic. I, more than anything else in her life, am my mother’s legacy, and that’s not arrogance, that’s the admiration of a daughter who had a mother deserving of it. I am my mother’s daughter – in most ways.
If you met me in real life, you’d see a lot of similarities to the person on these pages. I’m boisterous, brazen, demure, open, scathing — whatever you want to call me, I’m an awful lot of those things. But my mother blazed that trail, baby. She was a model in her youth, she was hot when she died, didn’t look over 50. She had red hair, green eyes, and she was a risk-taker and a daredevil. She sold real estate, raced yachts, and wasn’t afraid of a fucking thing (most of the time).
She was never open about sex. I doubt she ever became a vixen. I bet she never trusted a man enough. I don’t think she ever got past the shame of what sex symbolized in her demented little worldview on the subject. My father and I were recently talking, musing about whether she had been sexually assaulted at age 12. My father grew up in her neighbourhood, they were friends all their lives, and he remembered when she changed, as if she just broke. He said something was never the same after she was 12, that day they came home to find her scantily clad, rocking barefoot under the farm’s kitchen table, shaking and sobbing.
This Vixen thing… it’s a personal mission for me, really. I’ve been the legacy of dysfunctional views on sex. I’ve seen what a loveless marriage does not only to the participants but the children involved. I’ve seen what happens to men (including my father) who get neglected and taken for granted, what happens to women forgotten by their lovers, and it all breaks my heart. It’s a really sad thing to behold, the loss of someone’s sexual side.
When I was young, I fell for that fascist Ayn Rand, and one quote stands out after all these years, that “avoiding death does not equal living life.” We’ve somehow fallen into this trap of “surviving” life. Yeah, you go right ahead. Survive. I’m gonna live, thanks.
And that’s the problem, most of us are content to merely survive our jobs, survive our relationships, whatever it takes to make it to the other side with the least resistance.
Being a vixen, or in the case of the men out there, an attentive, daring, open lover who’s receptive to his lover’s needs, takes guts. It doesn’t happen from just thinking it’d be nice to go there. It’s about actively pushing your fears and apprehensions. It’s about saying you’re not scared about being judged. But mostly, it’s about trusting this lover of yours you claim you trust. It’s about putting your money where your mouth is, baby.
It’s too late for my mother, and I caught the bus last decade, man, so I’m good, but there are a lot of folks out there who must learn how much more fun life is when they learn that being vulnerable doesn’t necessarily mean becoming hurt*, it means sucking the marrow out of life and taking the chances you’ve been resisting.
Mostly, though, it’s about really having great new experiences. So, you know, like they says, you better get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’, but make your fucking choices and stop just letting life happen to you. Being a dead fish is simply the personification of all those other little fears you have inside. Confront them.
Me, being a vixen underlies EVERYTHING I do in my life. I take chances, I go with the moment, and I may not have the fancy car and the retirement package some of my conservative friends have, but I’ve got experiences. Very cool experiences. So far, dying tomorrow, I’d have few, if any regrets, and knowing that is the greatest thing I can say about who I am.
*And even if you get hurt occasionally by becoming vulnerable, I’ve discovered firsthand that the richness of everyday experiences far outweighs those occasional bumps and bruises along the way. Like mountain biking or something, sometimes you fall, sure, but at least you’re out there having the experience most of the time… and hurts always heal. I take my lumps and go again.
Unleashing Your Inner Vixen: Breakout Moves Pt. 1
I bet Isaac Newton was the bomb in bed. I bet he was sitting under that tree, fantasizing about hiking up Mathilda’s knickers the night before when that apple came toppling down out of that tree.
After all, Newton’s famous Third Law of Physics, “Each action must have an equal and opposite reaction,” should be every lover’s credo.
Recently, I wrote a little piece I playfully called “Fishies: Wake Up and Smell the Pheromones,” about “dead fish” lovers who lie there. Woman On Bottom wrote, asking:
So… the chick is on bottom, the dude is on top and they’re having sex. He’s thrusting like nobody’s business. The age-old question remains: what is she supposed to be doing? Scratching his back? Moaning? Wrapping her legs around him? Rocking against him? Talking dirty to him?
How does she avoid this whole “dead fish” syndrome guys always complain about? What skills should she posess? And, is there a difference in the “woman on bottom”‘s job from fucking to lovemaking?
Well, Bottom, it was funny you should ask. I was kicking this idea around for a few days before you asked, and since then, I’ve just been giving it some thought.
See, the problem with a lot of women in your position (hardy-har) is that you simply fail to realize the potential that being on the bottom offers. What, you can’t move your legs when you’re under there? Sure you can. You ask about scratching – hell, yeah!
The normal, healthy, sexually active male will be in his glory if he thinks he’s inspired you to become this sexually insatiable beast who just can’t get enough of his lovin’. If you’re digging your nails into him, moaning, and locking your legs around his hips, well, he’s gonna think you’re having a good time. More importantly, he’s gonna think he’s The Man, and that’s gonna get him more involved too.
Being on the receiving end of true desire always, always feels incredible. If your man’s never felt that desire, it might explain away a lot of changes in his behaviour, or a reduced focus on his appearance or attention to you.
I’ve encountered what happens to men when their women fail to get involved sexually, and the outcome is always this sad, seemingly fractured man who simply seems to have ‘something missing’ in him. Sure, passion.
It’s really, really, really important women learn how much they can offer sex, even if they’re stuck on the bottom. By changing that up, showing you’re interested, it’s likely you’ll take it to the next level and learn a whole schwack of new positions.
Before any of this goes anywhere, you’ve got to understand Newton’s Law. Every little thing he does to you should provoke a reaction to him. If not, then why’s he bothering? Every little thing you do to him will also provoke a reaction. This is the sexual circle. One reaction gets another gets another gets another gets an orgasm. Something like that, but there’s a few more moves in there, I think.
Your first step in releasing your inner vixen? Kegel exercises. Now, I just don’t care enough to keep looking until I find a site that agrees with my views, so keep in mind, that site thinks men don’t really have to do Kegels, that women offer more by learning them – WTF? YES, MEN HAVE TO DO KEGELS. Shit, man.
Yes, guys, learn to do Kegel exercises because we want you to be able to break the mold and enter into the 15+ minute zone of loving, thanks. We want every one of you to be a rumoured super-lover-man that Sting is, and HE does HIS Kegels. Jesus Christ. Oh, the work I have yet to do!
But I do digress. Every time you squeeze your vaginal muscles, he’s going to feel it. More importantly, every time you squeeze them, you know you’re contributing, you’re impacting things a bit. Most importantly? Great exercise for the abs.
If you want the best reason of all for being a rockstar lover – it’s the exercise. You’re supposed to get 30-minutes of exercise a day, right? Well… what if I told you that you could have better abs, a tighter ass, a stronger lower back, tight inner thighs, and improved endurance, all from 30 minutes of exercise every day, without ever, ever having to leave your bed? You’d call the FCC and try to bust my ass for fraud, I’d bet.
But it’s true. Fuck your way to a better ass, says I. Hell, it might even help your bust if you do enough with your arms. Yep, Tony Little can take his Gazelle and shove it, man.
The next step towards Rockstar-Loverness:
Put on an aural show. Start moaning and gasping a little. It’s interesting, I think there’s enough fodder to do a couple postings on the importance of moaning. You go back and you look at this site, you’ll find the second or third posting I did was about moaning and such. It annoyed me. But then, right after posting that, I was talking with a lady I know and she told me about the bad old days when she was in an sanitarium in the Czech Republic for “sexual dysfunction.” There was a woman there who’d used to be a real tiger in bed. She and her husband moved into the city, and her sexual enjoyment went to nil, and it’d been years since she orgasmed.
What did they discover? She had to scream when having sex. They moved from a quiet countryside farmhouse into a small, thin-walled apartment, and she went from screamer sex to silent sex, and lost the orgasms to go with it.
It got me thinking. I started to wonder if the silent sex I was having was somehow psychically reinforcing any of the old hang-ups I had from my Catholic youth, et al. Since then, during the sex I’ve had (including masturbation, actually), I’ve made myself be much more vocal, and oh, my God, it’s just so much hotter! I was really surprised that I’d feel less self-conscious as a result of it, but that was the case. I started feeling more dominant, confident, and willing to do what it took to make myself really enjoy the moment — moreso than ever before. It was a conscious effort for the first five minutes, but then it became natural, just putting a voice to all those things I’d already been feeling.
So, here I was, always championing the “shut up and fuck me” approach, but I’m a big girl and I can admit my personal discovery that moaning audibly, inserting dramatic gasps that really convey my surprise or delight, muttering a bit to my lover, etc, really allows me to get into the moment and be a player. I think it’s the conscious shunning of all that repression and backwards sexual thinking I’d had foisted on me since my youth.
I think you really need to open your mouth a little and get involved. If you just lie there, silently, every single time, you’re going to find it easier to slip into a rut. But if you groan, moan, or gasp whenever your lover changes a move or something, it’s the early warning system to your pleasure or pain. It clues your lover in: “She wants more of that. Wow, I’m hot.”
Unleashing your inner vixens & rockstars will continue next time around, and I’ll divulge a few specific newby moves for converting the boring old Missionary Position into the start of a whole new thang for you. For now, really focus on the Kegels and the notion of having a voice during sex. They’re small things, but they’re huge, huge foundations for this thing, this new lover, that you’re building here.
NOTE: The photo is of a position some call the Bamboo. It’s a slight deviation from the Missionary Position, and, uh, a real good time, if you know what I’m sayin’. There are a couple other slick positions like this for the starting rockstar to engage in, starting in the Missionary, on bottom. That’s next time.
Figleaf Answers Q's on Male Masturbation
Figleaf was kind enough to look over all the questions posed by women in regards to male masturbation of late, and compiled a hefty response for y’all.
I enjoy Fig’s site a lot since it offers a lot of what I enjoy to read: Intelligent discussion about sex. It’s a nifty thing to have him guesting here. Thanks, Fig.
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READER WRITES: Ok, it doesn’t really turn me on, but it certainly doesn’t turn me off either. I did accidentally walk in on my husband while he was masturbating in the shower. I scared the hell out of him. I apologized and now I don’t peek around the shower curtain unless I know that he knows I’m in the bathroom. After all that’s his time and not really any of my business.
FIGLEAF: So first of all I’d like to say cool, you didn’t jump him when you caught him (neither jumping all over him for doing it, nor jumping his bones.) Real masturbation is a personal act.
J.P. Donaleavy, author of The Unexpurgated Code, a tongue-in-cheek book of etiquette for English social climbers, recommended that upon encountering someone masturbating you should say “I see you’re in good hands” and withdraw. It’s actually the best advice there is. Now I did say that real masturbation is always a personal act. If that were the end of it I probably wouldn’t have started writing this at all. Read on.
You say watching masturbation doesn’t really turn you on or off. That’s actually pretty cool because unless you’re the one masturbating it’s really none of your business. 🙂 There’s also masturbation for two and that’s a whole ‘nother topic.
Watching someone masturbate *for* you can be pretty exciting. Exciting for them because they’re doing it for you. Exciting for you because they’re doing it for you. If they’re shy there’s the excitement of seducing them into doing something you know will give them pleasure. If you’re shy there’s the excitement of safely crossing a few boundaries. If you’re not even a little bit curious there’s still the excitement of learning how *they* touch themselves so you can do it yourself next time.
If they’re reluctant there’s even the possibility of excitement that comes from saying “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.” If you’re adventurous there’s the possibility that it’s just another form of foreplay that can lead to one of you throwing him or herself on the other and fucking their brains out. If you’re into dares, suspense, and delayed gratification there’s the excitement of playing chicken – of seeing if one of you will crack and jump the other’s bones before one of you comes. If you’re polite there’s even the excitement of watching each other get closer and closer and saying “after you…” “no, after you” “oh no, I insist” which of course can prolong the moment till both your eyes are rolling.
Heck, even if you’re just lazy there’s the excitement of knowing they’re doing most of the work! 🙂
The bottom line, though, is that while real masturbation is always a neutral (to a spectator) personal act it can become charged when you invite yourself into it. It’s surprising how that personal act, even one you might find personally distasteful under other circumstances, becomes a mutual act that can be every bit as intimate and erotic and fulfilling as the closest, deepest coupling.
READER: I’ve met a man who doesn’t like to masturbate, and I’m dead curious to hear opinion on that. I’m sure he’s not the first and won’t be the last, but I’m very sorry I may never have the pleasure of watching him do the deed…or giving him a hand…
FIGLEAF: There’s an old joke that 99% of men masturbate and the other 1% are liars. It’s not really true. More of us enjoy masturbating than care to admit it, but just as there are plenty of women who for one reason or another don’t masturbate, there are also plenty of of men who don’t either. (Figures vary but it could be as high as 20%.) If your partner is one of those then you might have your work cut out for you.
Another group of men feel that masturbation is sort of a second choice or a substitute for sex and so they’re going to feel a little reluctant to give up an “opportunity” to play in order to rehearse some more.
Finally, most of us are pretty shy about admitting we masturbate. There’s the usual conditioning against touching yourself, with overtones of “If I admit I do it you’ll imagine I don’t think you’re satisfying me.” Something else to keep in mind is the conditioning we get early on that being seen masturbating is perverted because of the perverts who sit jacking off in their cars near playgrounds and such.
Yes, it’s sort of silly, but so’s imagining you’re not every bit as sexy in dumpy sweatpants as in lingerie.
Two things to try, one theoretical, the other very pragmatic.
Theory: Remind him that no matter what kind of delicious, arousing, eye-popping, or otherwise remarkable sex is depicted in industrial porn, 99.999% of male actors eventually stop doing that, pull out, and masturbate till they ejaculate because… well, I’m not sure why they do, but they all do it. So if porn stars can do it, you might suggest, then so can he.
Pragmatics: Tell him you’re going to masturbate for him. Ask him to watch but not touch. When he’s pretty far along suggest it would really, really turn you on even more if he’d touch himself too.
One of those should work if he’s one of the 80-85% or men who know how to and enjoy masturbating. If he’s one of the others, well, you can ask him to practice, or you can *help* him practice, but I can’t promise it’ll work. Sometimes when we say we don’t like to masturbate we’re actually telling the truth. 🙂
READER WRITES: I’d like to know the kind of things that make it feel good – is it better with lube or spit, or just with the hand? Does the pressure of the hand make much of a difference? For those with foreskins, does tugging that down over the head feel pleasurable in and of itself?
AND…
Does any of it weird you out? Why? I love watching men masturbate – I find it quite delightful seeing how they take care of themselves, and noticing their overall reaction. It’s harder to pay attention when my mouth’s at play!
What’s your reaction to it? Do you find it hot, or not? Why or why not? It turns me on, watching one of my partners masturbate. I find it less impacting watching it in porn, but still interesting.
AND…
Have you had any negative experiences with it? What’s your reaction to finding a lover doing it when he thought you were asleep / not around? Only the one. With a previous partner, I woke up one night to find him standing at the side of the bed and masturbating over me. That disturbed me at the time, and disturbs me now. Interestingly, I have no problem with my current partner jacking off while I’m asleep, and he has no problem with me doing the same. So I think that was a personality issue rather than an action issue.
AND…
Closing opinion: watching men masturbate is a) hot, and b) gives me pointers to add to my own skill-set. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to move my hand as fast, though!
FIGLEAF: This is really good to hear, you know. Another thing men are raised to believe (and a lot of women for that matter) is that women don’t like to watch. I think it’s more correct to say women don’t like to feel uncomfortably or involuntarily out of control, as you did when you woke to find your partner masturbating over you, or as others do when an aggressive man exposes himself and expects you to be turned on. Nice guys may take that a little too far and not be comfortable showing you anything at all. If you can convince him you’re comfortable with him doing it (it might take some convincing) and if he understands that you want to watch and learn so you can do it to him too, he may eventually grow more comfortable with the idea. (Repeated Hint: ask him if it would turn him on to watch you.)
As for technique, I don’t know what to say. I don’t have direct experience with other men but based on the ways my own partners have confidently but not always successfully taken me in hand I get the impression different men like different strokes in different places. But that’s just another argument for asking your partners to show you. The one other generality I can add is: Men tend to like way, way more pressure than women do. I think this has a lot to do with why women think we touch too hard and men think women touch too gently.
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Back to me! Thanks for the contribution to this series, Fig. Much appreciated.
As for the reader with concerns she might never stroke fast enough, well, I’d focus on the details you can master — firmness of grip, length and placement of stroke, that sort of thing, and master those. A good long stroke, teasing the balls, all these things could probably compensate nicely for the lack of speed (which some guys say can be a really nice change of pace, literally, anyhow). What do you think, Fig, readers?
Oh, and please notice the fabulous specimen touching himself in the photo? He’s playing with his testicles. Don’t forget to make friends with the boys — gently. Just playing with a guy’s balls can do some pretty incredible things to his desire. Just be gentle, that’s all. A little kiss here, a little stroke there…
Jungle Fever
Primal, baby.
Why is it so wrong? You wanna wager on how many women lusted after our buddy Tarzan here in 1938? Oh, I think between him and Errol Flynn in Robin Hood, Fantasyland was fully booked for the last half of the Dirty ’30s.
I’ll make you ululate, Tarzan, just watch me.
When I’m comfortable with a man and trust him, getting primal isn’t hard at all. But when I first get to know him, I have a hard time letting him see that side of me. It doesn’t really take long, just usually not the first time we have sex. It’s not that I don’t want to show that side to him, it’s just that I have concerns he’ll view me as only that kind of a lover, and that’s something I don’t want to see happen. Sigh.
It’s all so very dumb. It really is.
We’re warm-blooded, and some nights, downright hot-blooded. We’re animals. We’ve just forgotten how to behave like them.
On the African Savannah, on Antarctica, on any stretch of terrain anywhere in the world, animals are being called to their natural needs, copulating en masse, enacting species-specific mating rituals, and doing everything they can to climax. It’s the call of the wild, and we’re the only fucking species that ain’t answering.
Our modern take on the call of the wild? A kiss, a grope, some humping on the couch, and some fumbling, and some wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.
Unless, of course, you remember you’re an animal and that a heart pounds hard inside of you, then maybe, just maybe, you’ll try to break the kichen table.
Of course intimacy is incredibly important. Eye contact, deep kisses, endless caressing, it’s all very important, but so too is throwing down and fucking furiously on the living room floor, with or without the blinds closed.
Look around you. Look at the world around you. Look at the road rage. Look at the office rage. Look at all this bullshit where we see true rage and fury emitting from people, over the stupidest, most inconsequential things.
We try to deceive ourselves by saying we live in a civilized society. We think the right Prada bag or the proper choice of vehicle will somehow elevate our status, and with it, quell the beasts that dwell within.
It’s bullshit, of course. We’re not civilized. Watching any newscast will prove it. It’s out there, it’s on every street — the animal within. But we fool ourselves well.
This time of year, though, it’s a little harder to make the primal-within sit down and behave.
Know that little bit of weariness tempered with exuberance, the feistiness stirring within? That’s cabin fever. The awakening of all of us as the season progresses. Spring’s rising, and with it, so are our temperatures. Pheromones abound. Please do not feed the hormones.
We want to be good people. We want to respect others’ rights. We want to be gracious, caring, passionate, but there are too many people who feel there’s no way to balance being that with being a primal lover who growls, bites, scratches, and moans like they’re howling at the moon. And as crazy as it sounds, it’s absolutely possible to play both roles – on the same night, even.
Being that lover, though, is a hell of a lot better than going to therapy. Getting that need, that primal, down-n-dirty need out of your system does a hell of a lot of good for someone. Some people do it through S&M, with pain or humiliation being involved. All right, fine, not my bag, but that’s cool. Me, I’m one of the “put some tribal rhythms on and let’s go native, baby” type who’s into jungle-fever lovin’. It’s the one kind of sex that leaves a lover absolutely satiated. Worn out, thankful, and thrilled, it’s the best experience I can have, some days. It’s not something I could do every time, but my god, I’m unlikely to pass it up, too.
I try to think of it, I try to understand, and I just can’t fathom it. What is it like to be unable to admit to what lies in your heart, to admit you have a primal beast within? How do you tell yourself that vanilla is all you really want, that a little taste of something exotic doesn’t appeal? How can you kid yourself and pretend those dark places you know you have aren’t really there? What must it be like to force yourself to live a mundane, safe little life where you never, ever push the limits to see what you can or can’t do, or better yet, just how good all that pushing can feel?
You know, primal sex is the lover’s equivalent of extreme sports. If you haven’t bought your ticket to ride, well, you won’t believe the rush you’re missing.
nature is a cold bitch
ever noticed how, in cold weather,
women get sexier with their erect nipples
while men get shrinkage?
women get sexier with their erect nipples
while men get shrinkage?
guess we know why, in primitive societies,
women always went topless
while the boys wore their little loincloths?
women always went topless
while the boys wore their little loincloths?
A Perfect Partner’s Top Eight Qualities
Rachel, of Wicked Ink, popped by here to inform me this morning that I’ve been tagged for a Meme. Now, I hate memes. “Answer ‘em yerself,” methinks, “But don’t drag me into the fray!”
But, since appeasing people’s a rather special skill I have, I thought, “Hey. Sure.” It’s a relevent topic, and I think I have a couple different twists to my list. So, I sat my ass down and spent the last half hour doing this. In keeping with my personal feelings about memes, I shall not poke others into the act of doing such a list. But, I invite any readers to do their own and to clue me in if they have.
- Laughter – Must have it, mujst engage in it, must produce it. I was once with a man and during the coital act, some sound emitted – a particularly strange slurp or gloop sound – that took me by surprise, like some bad Foley F/X editor had laid a particularly weird sound effect over the sex act. Within a minute, I was laughing hysterically. My partner got all sensitive, even though I was saying, “Well, did you HEAR that?” and stormed from the bed, unable to see the humour. I was never aroused by him again, and the relationship ended within the week or so that followed. I just couldn’t get over his inability to exploit the moment. It was FUNNY. Life is filled with weird, awkward, breathtakingly odd moments, and if you can’t laugh them away, then get the hell away from me.
- Sexuality – Must have a high libido and a creative drive. I’m one of those chicks who likes sex a lot (muchos, senior) when I’m involved. Short-term, long-term, just gimme some — every single day, usually. You’d think it’d be a wonderful thing for guys, but oddly, some just can’t keep up. It’d be nice to have someone wear me out for a change – and that I want him to be skillful, open to new experiences, and as much a romantic as I am is just obvious.
- Intellect – I can be pretty irreverent and silly here from time to time, but I’m a smart chick and I need a guy who not only doesn’t get intimidated by that, but who can contribute to it by turning my lightbulb on to things I’ve formerly not been aware of. I love long conversations on the beach that hold out until sunrise in the summer. There’s an incredible sexiness about a man who knows things about the world at large, not just his chosen career. Woo me with vast knowledge about Ancient Incan mating rituals, how a star is born, and the dire news of the changing global warming scenario. Yes, it does turn me on. “My, Brad, what big brains you have…”
- Compassion / Awareness – I try not to let my heartstrings dangle too loosely on this site. I was recently told that my vulnerable/soft side’s a really endearing thing to share with folks, but sometimes some things need to stay inside until the moment warrants it. I’ve been guilty of living that way, but hey, it’s my choice. It’s also something I’m trying to work on. But I’m a profoundly compassionate woman when the time demands it. I’ve been through a lot in my 32 years and I’ve been taught the hard way what difficulties and struggles can do to a person, and as a result, I’ve changed my worldview drastically. Pairing my eyes-wide-open view on the world with someone who’s lacking that, well, that’d just be dumb.
- Creativity – Whether it’s in the bedroom, in making plans for the day, in the kitchen, in his humour and conversation, or in what he does with his hands, creativity is a huge, huge factor in my life. I take new and different routes to my destinations often, even though I’ve lived in this city all my life. I take ingredients in my pantry, mix them together, and invent meals I’ll likely never make again but were awesome for that one experience. I’ve painted and decorated my whole home. I’m a good photographer, I write in every genre. I’ve designed furniture I hope to one day gain the skills to build. Creativity RULES my life. A man absolutely needs to not only grasp that about me, but celebrate it for himself. (Creativity is living life in colour, folks. I long ago tired of grey, black, and white.)
- Honesty / Virtue – I’ve been told that my honesty is disarming. Everyone knows I tell the truth. You want an honest opinion, I’ll give it to you – in real life or in this silly cyberkingdom. Honesty is what it’s all about. What are you scared of? Tell the truth and deal with the fall-out. I need a man who gets that I’ll be pissed if I catch him in lies, but if he tells me the truth, “Well, honestly, I just really feel like hanging with the guys and watching a game tomorrow, I just need to be a little stupid for the night,” then I’m almost always gonna let it go. It’s not an issue unless you let it become one, and the honesty is always a great thing to have. God knows he’ll be getting it from me.
- Irreverence – I’m irreverent way too often, but I love the way it feels. It keeps me young, fun, and interesting. It keeps my brooding intellect in check, and allows me to still feel like I’m a rebel, even though the system bought and sold me long ago. It’s not just a behaviour, though, it’s a lifestyle attitude, and personally, I find irreverent men as sexy as hell. Sexy in the “oh, God, I wanna take him home and tie him up and teach him a thing or two” kinda way. There is just nothing sexier on a personality.
- Articulate / Open – Well, that’s just asking for quid pro quo. I’m articulate and open, and I absolutely need a lover who can express himself and what’s going on in his world, or what he wants from me. I’m not asking that he be Deepak Chopra or Dr. Phil, I’m just saying that it’s hard enough negotiating the big bad world of relationships without having all the required information. The more a man communicates with me, the more I drop these mighty big walls I tend to have around me. If he’s open, expressive, then I will be, too, and moreso than him, likely.
Other things a guy needs to be: Somewhat motivated – not in the “I’ll be CEO by 36” kind of way that honestly makes me ill, but motivated in the sense that he knows what he needs for happiness, and he pursues it. Whether that’s playing guitar, swimming in competitions, cooking, whatever. There’re passions we all have, and doing nothing with them does nothing for us. And he has to be sort of active. I’m not talking “he scales mountains on Saturdays,” or anything, but yeah, he breaks a sweat and helps keep me in line, in bed and out.
Thanks for the Food for Thought, Rachel.