Too Much Sex?

Surely, you jest.

I came (no pun intended) across this article,

“21 People Confess The Problems With Having Too Much Sex,”

in my Facebook newsfeed earlier today, and thought it was pretty goofy.  Some of these statements are funny.  Some are just sad.  But none of them should be taken seriously, (although I’m 100% sure some of these people were serious when they said these things…)  But I thought it might be fun and different to answer some of these “confessions” with my own thoughts on the subject, also not to be taken too seriously…  Especially given the fact that I routinely tease hubby about what his buddies at work would say if he complained to them that he has to have too much sex.

SO without further ado…

“Whisper ” confessions about sex…

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Confession

Does your girlfriend know this?  Because you might want to give her a chance to be on top once in a while.  Just sayin’.

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Confession

Gonna make it hard to figure out who gave you that raging case of syphillis…

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Confession

Here’s what you do; this is an easy fix, and your sex life will thank you as well as which ever one of you washes the sheets.  Get a towel, and you can get them over-sized, to lay down on the bed.  We have one…”the sexy-time towel,” and we only need to wash that most times. *wink*

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Confession

This is not a problem. Seriously… Just tell your s/o you’re in the mood to play Call of Duty, or whatever, with him.  Just this once, he may actually not be too disappointed.  But don’t take it personally.

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Confession

I get it.  I know it sounds like a double standard, but given the generally agreed to stereotype that men are slavering beasts who always want sex, and once you get married, the husband practically has to beg for it, when a husband complains about too much sex, us women find it a bit unsulting at the very least, and in some cases, even highly suspect.

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Confession

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Confession

In all seriousness, it doesn’t sound like sex is your problem. Communication is.  And if all else fails, nothing kills the mood like the loud and ernest declaration that “my junk is raw!”

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Confession

We wish you were too.  Lame.

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Confession

Uh…you are doing it wrong…

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Confession

You should tell that to your potential employers at all of your interviews. They’ll appreciate your candor and you’ll be a shoe-in for that job.

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Confession

I’m sure he’d love to hear that.  Go ahead and tell him.  You may shortly be off the hook, because he’ll probably never get a hard-on again if his only option is pity sex.

What are your thoughts on these sex confessions?  Do you have any “dirty little secrets” of your own?   I’m sure we all do, really.  I do.  But you’ll never see them online, that’s for damn sure.  Happy reading, all!

 

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In Which I Tear Apart A Terrible Editiorial on Relationships

Or, alternate title being: “This bitch does not know what she is talking about…”
Below are a few quoted selections from the article, but you can read it in its “brilliant” entirety here.

QUOTE: “‘…euphoria’ doesn’t mean unrealistic romantic bliss. It just means your stomach flips every time you see your SO (significant other). “
Actually, in the context you JUST described, your second sentence pretty much directly contradicts your first; it exactly means “unrealistic romantic bliss.”
Let’s take a minute to disect just a few more of the unconstructive and inaccurate statements in this article and pray you never end up with a job being the next Dr. Ruth.
QUOTE: “Being happy means being unable to imagine a life without your significant other; being comfortable means not caring.
When you’re truly happy, you cannot imagine your life without this other person.”
227cd753aa0515404ff9a8bd6a2e-no-im-sure-there-are-bad-side-effects
Um, no.
Not even.
You can feel all of those those things and not be happy. It’s called co-dependency.
QUOTE: “When you’re comfortable, that feeling of safety is similar to that of boredom. The feeling isn’t draining, and it isn’t toxic; it’s vanilla, bland and homogenous.”
In reality, happiness and comfort can and often do come together.

I still get butterflies with my husband sometimes. It comes down to mood and frame of mind. I also can get that euphoric feeling of when we just met if I think back and remember those times. But I also feel a deeper love seated in comfort, security, and respect.

A relationship can get complacent, but that has as much to do with taking a SO for granted and getting complacent in how you treat your SO daily as anything else. However, many people DO get stuck in boring relationships because they don’t have the strength to get out. This article almost makes it seem like it’s a “natural” mistake “many” people make.  But that only makes them victims of themselves.

And the passage on sex… Jesus. Are you married? Are you IN a longterm relationship.

QUOTE: “Sex in a happy relationship is truly incredible. The orgasms are more intense and even more fulfilling than they are in a loveless relationship. Sex becomes about so much more than two people physically connecting; it brings two souls as close together as they can possibly be…

On the other hand, when you’re just comfortable, you’re f*cking for the purpose of getting off quickly and efficiently. It’s a race to orgasm. It’s about nothing more than physical satisfaction.”

Any person who is in a long term relationship, happily even, will tell you…
Sex is always different. I have been married 6 years, with my husband a total of 11. Sex is sometimes slow and romantic, sometimes passionate and erotic.  Sometimes, we are just horny and we both want to get off. It’s never always one way. In other words, you can be quite happy, and have a night where the sex is utilitarian and a bit boring.  Two nights later, you might get your socks knocked off in bed.  (Not me; I hate wearing socks during sex.)
 I almost feel bad for tearing your article apart so aggressively, however almost everything you said in this article is not only inaccurate, but you take the stance of guiding other people in relationships, and you’re sending them chasing their tails.  You sound like you wrote this article WHILE in the throes of the “unrealistic romantic bliss” you mentioned. Sorry, Gigi, but there are no epiphanies here…
Thankfully, I am not alone in calling bullshit.  The comments in the section under the article were almost unanimously…less than positive.   I just…
ah, okay.  I’m done.  Discerning readers, what do you think?
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Dr. Rut’ says you need this book…

 

James Franco: Perfect or Pervy?

So, if you’ve been on social media at all today you may have seen the various stories about James Franco allegedly attempting to “hook up” with a seventeen year old young woman via Instagram. In case you missed it, here’s a highlight:

Girl goes to show.  Girl meets Franco and takes Instagram with him.  Girl “tags” Franco in photo.  Franco tries to score with girl.
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I mean, in my opinion, he seems to come across as a petulant teen boy with blue balls at one point, (after the girl once again asks for proof of identity) saying “I gave it to you.  If you don’t wanna meet, then text me when you do.”  As in…call me when you’re ready to put out? And then, in a “surprise twist” (haha,) girl is too smart to fall for it and tricks Franco into proving his identity with photos. And despite the fact that Franco is obviously looking for a booty call and not much more  and was trying to sign off when she wasn’t interested, despite the fact that she is barely this side of legal (apparently 17 is legal in NY?) some people on social media and news comment sections are feeling bad for Franco, and blaming the girl, like she somehow “entrapped” him. Even if it’s legal and she is beyond the “age of reason” and legally able to make a yes or no decision on whether or not she wants to be another notch on Franco’s bedpost, she tried to catch him in his bullshit, and some people are pissed at her for it.  What does that say about how far our society has or hasn’t come in regards to gender differences and sexuality?

 

EDIT: Update 2/4/2014   James Franco “scandal” a hoax to promote his new film?

EDIT: Update 2/4/2014   James Franco admits embarrassing incident on Instagram

Oh, okay, so he admits to being caught being a creeper.  Does this “confession” change the fact that he was trolling for young poontang?

The Methos Chronicles: Episode [Nonoxynol] 9

I think I may have stumbled upon something here, folks.  An idea with real potential here:

A method of birth control more natural than pills, more reliable than “natural family planning…”   And the only thing you have to do is remember to feed it and scoop its litter.  Yes, I’m talking about my cat of course.  But seriously, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, let me introduce Methos:

methos1

He’s lovable, he’s large, he’s dopey…he likes to wear shoes (sometimes on his face)

And he has no qualms whatsoever about making himself comfortable in the bed (or on the couch) while hubby and I have sex.  The other night, I practically used him as a pillow, since he didn’t feel inclined to move.  But at least he wasn’t staring right at us this time.   That can get pretty damn awkward.  It’s like I can hear him thinking (perhaps in a British accent), Ugh, they’re at it again.  They’re worse than animals… that’s fucking disgusting…   Except, as I said, he can’t be bothered to get up and leave.  But we’ve adjusted to it.  Mostly we ignore him, and sometimes we kick him off the bed if we find him too distracting.

But there was this one time he happened to on the bed and there was a contraception… mishap.

Women who have experimented with different types of contraception may be familiar with a spermicide foam sold in a pressurized can with applicators.  So, for those needing it spelled out, the applicator can be filled quickly and with little preparation, by applying it to the top of the pressurized can and release it when you see the applicator is full.  Voila!  You’re ready for safe* sex.

*this foam is for prevention of pregnancy only, and does not protect against HIV or sexually transmitted diseases*

*this foam is for prevention of pregnancy only, and does not protect against HIV or sexually transmitted diseases*

I don’t know where on the bed the cat was; I wasn’t really paying much attention to him.  Hubby and I were getting busy, and one of us was attempting to fill the applicator.   It wasn’t anything new, except this time, we held the applicator to the nozzle a bit too long.  Suddenly, the pressure from the can became too much.  The plunger rocketed out of the top of the tube in a plume of contraceptive foam and bounced off the ceiling.

It was a mess.  There was foam on us, foam on the bed, foam on the ceiling…   But we’re all adults here.  We know sex in real life is often not as sexy and graceful as Hollywood makes it look.  I don’t think that alone would have derailed us for long.  When I really lost it was when I looked over to see Methos, still sitting placidly on the comforter, a look of calm confusion on his face, and contraceptive foam dripping off his head.
Needless to say, it took a little work to get back in the mood after that, but the comedic value was priceless.

Oh dear god, not again…

Well, I do believe Facebook knew I got laid last night before I did.

As my very wise friend told me, hubby really needs to monitor my internet privileges after I pop an Ambien.   This shit is getting a little ridiculous.  I got up a few times after taking half an Ambien, either to pee or get a snack.  I even got online….   (Why, oh why did I get online???)  I know better.   I may feel awake.  May even look and sound awake, with the exception of a few weirdly random things that may come out of my mouth.

But I know better.  I know the next day I am likely to remember most of the things I have done the night before only vaguely, as in a twilight sleep dream.  If I remember them at all.  I think I ate a banana with peanut butter and chocolate.  This morning I wondered if hubby and I got it on last night.  This morning, it didn’t seem likely…until I looked at one of my Facebook statuses…

whoopsie!  

But at the time, I’m guessing whatever I did actually seemed like a swell idea!  I wonder if that was before or after I decided I wasn’t falling asleep quickly enough and took the other half of the Ambien.

Oh well.  Guess I’ll have to have a talk with hubby later about him doing a better job of keeping me from doing stupid shit when I take my medicine.  But at least I can rest easy (haha) knowing I am not the only person this drug effects in strange ways.

(*I do not own these images)

(*I do not own these images)

(*I do not own these images)

(*I do not own these images)

Midwinter Night’s Dream & My Other Husband

I had an absolutely mind-boggling dream last night.  There was music, crowd-surfing, werewolves/vampires, tattoos, horses, diamonds, sex, and…Maynard.

I’m going to try to relay the highlights, but now it has that loose narrative and hazy chronological sequence that defies any attempts to make sense once you’re awake.

I’m at this concert in this big dark space.  I’m sitting against a corner wall near the middle of the room.  Check out my bad-ass Paint diagram.

"X" marks the spot

“X” marks the spot…

And who should be sitting next to me but Marilyn Manson… only he’s yelling stupid things at the stage where Maynard is singing, trying to be cool or something.  And I tell him to shut up.  And he kisses me and tries to stick his hand in my pants.   And I’m like, no way, dude.  What kind of woman do you think I am?   I also seem to remember telling him my age, but lying and saying I was 29 instead of 31.  At some point, he (I think it’s him) picks me up and throws me in the air, and I am crowd surfing all over the room.  Eventually, I end up somewhere across the room, and the person holding me up is Trainer Bob, and he asks me for something (I can’t remember what,) but in return, I ask him for a favor– get me closer to Maynard.

"Whaaat?"

“Whaaat?”

At this point, as I pass near the stage, it looks more like a backstage tête-à-tête than a concert.  Maynard is sitting in a chair and his entourage is busy around him.  He’s not looking his usual put together self.  His face looks haggard and broken out…but I still love him anyway.

At some point I have circled the room and am dropped off near MM again.  He is also not looking his best… turns out he’s balding on top and wearing a black hairpiece to cover it up.  He flops the piece back on his head, and– voila!– instant sleek!  There are a lot of faces I recognize, mostly from high school, in the crowd.  At one point I am in a line near a side exit and a guy behind me (who I think I was supposed to know) was staring at me lasciviously and making menacing remarks.

At some other point, I found myself near the stage again.  This is about the point where I felt some sort of threat, as if I was being chased or hunted, by a werewolf, perhaps.  Maynard and his crew finally acknowledge me and hand me a small tray to which is affixed a variety of silver pieces (barettes? small styluses? I don’t know), but in the dream I knew what they were for– protection against my pursuers.

And now Maynard is close to me …

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…and we’re talking about our tattoos and he’s helping me fit these gi-normous fake fangs onto my teeth (more protection, I think?)

…and then there was this pretty horse, with kind of a pale palomino beige color in the head area and a dainty, thin nose.  I was told to let it eat, so I walked it to the area near the back wall of the main room, where there was a little inlet with a mound of hay.

A stall in the middle of a concert venue...weird, I know...

A stall in the middle of a concert venue…weird, I know…

And then I was riding the horse around a trail (still in the concert venue) and it was like I was on a parade circuit or something.  One of Maynard’s lackeys was giving me all this fancy jewelry.  It was for, like, some mock video where we were getting married or something.  They took my wedding ring off and threw it on the ground, and I asked one of the girls to retrieve it and put it somewhere safe.  She didn’t so I went back to get it and put it on another finger.  The ring that the girl had given me as a wedding ring was big but all the diamonds were like little marcasite-looking stones… you know, all pomp but no real value… and I was like, Well, this ring is unacceptable… 

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Marcasite ring (photo: polyvore.com)

Soooo…

You’re leaving something out, you say.

Oh, you mean the sexy part?

Yeah, of course we mean the sexy part.

What I do on my fake wedding night with my fake husband (who also happens to be a talented and hot musician) is my business, you pervs!

I don't know who took this picture, but it wasn't me.

I don’t know who took this picture, but it wasn’t me.

SEXercise!

Fuck the Shred; I’ve got a new exercise plan!

According to the University of Arizona… If a 150-lb person has sex for five minutes, he will burn 24 calories. If the same person has sex for 45 minutes, he will burn 216 calories. (source)

It’s not like I’m the first person to have this idea.  We like sex, we like losing weight…why can’t we do BOTH?  And the more creative and acrobatic, the more calories burned.

Sexercise Icescapades!

SEXercise Icescapades!

So what are the best calorie burning SEXercises???

Therapeutic massage?  Check!

Interval training?  Check! Check!

Some good ol’ core work?  Checkity-check!

HR Giger- Erotomechanics-VII

HR Giger- Erotomechanics-VII

HR Giger

HR Giger

 

Wait til I tell DH.  I can see it now…   “Wanna help me work off that chocolate torte? It’ll only take about two and a half hours…”