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Comment of the Week: 4 Ways Men Can Seem Taller

April 29, 2015

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photo of Kevin Hart via Flickr

In response to a question from a reader this week about a study saying women are only attracted to men 6 feet tall and up, Johnny — one of our MVP commenters — propped him up pretty perfectly:

HA! Bullshit.

Short guy here, reporting that I’ve always done just fine. If you’ve got a thing for tall women you’re mostly out of luck, sorry to say, but other than that, don’t worry about it.

Most women just want a guy who’s taller than them. Many will make an exception for a guy who’s the same height as them. Occasionally a short guy even winds up with a taller woman.

I mean, I’m not one to console myself with delusion: it’s not ideal to be short. Taller is better in female eyes. But what are you gonna do, roll over and die? Join a monastery and swear off women?

Here’s what you do to compensate for being short:

  1. Stand up straight. Don’t exaggerate or puff up or anything, but good posture helps.
  2. Mind the aspects of your appearance that you can control. Shower, get hair cuts, wear clean well-fitting clothes, etc.
  3. Hit the gym. Being tubby in the middle makes you look shorter.
  4. Smile, be open and friendly and flirtatious.

That’s my method.

Johnny

 
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Deal Breaker or No Deal Breaker: Oral Sex

April 23, 2015

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“Deal Breaker or No Deal Breaker” is a new series of polls we’ll be running at EMandLO.com. We want to know what our readers consider a deal breaker in a serious relationship, and what they could get past. A deal breaker could be anything from someone who doesn’t like doggy style… to someone who doesn’t like Woody Allen movies. Basically, anything that you couldn’t overlook in a relationship — some kind of “catch” that ultimately outweighs any redeeming quality a person may have.

This week’s Deal Breaker or No Breaker topic is oral sex. Let’s say you meet the man or woman of your dreams, but it turns out they don’t like oral sex (receiving, giving, whatever). Would that be a deal breaker for you? Or let’s say you meet the man or woman of your dreams, and they really really like oral sex (receiving, giving, whatever). Like, a lot. Would that be a deal breaker for you? Or, on the other hand, do you feel like anything related to oral sex would be something you could get past?

Weigh in by voting in one of our polls below! The first poll is for men, the second for women…



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Comment of the Week: Naming the Female Equivalent of Blue Balls

April 22, 2015

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We’ve had some pretty creative additions to our poll calling for a name for the female equivalent of blue balls. Here are a few recent contenders…

What’s your favorite?

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photo via Flickr



Comment of the Week: Who Causes Wet Dreams? Could It Be….Satan?!

April 15, 2015

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In response to a letter from a woman who orgasms in her sleep, we got a very interesting and creative analysis of what is actually going on from Amandah. It’s not sexual tension or the subconscious playing around with one of our strongest primal urges. Nope! Amandah schools us in the facts. (Ed. note: grammatical and spelling mistakes have been corrected for readability, natch):

Mhhh, I’ve read your comments guys and I know all about wet dreams or multiple orgasms. The truth is you all have what [we] call a “spiritual husband” — it’s a very wicked sexual “demon” or…Satan. It is an attack and you need to be delivered from that thing because it can destroy your life… I know what I’m talking about. Most of you will not agree with me, but I know it’s the truth. If you’re under that demon attack, most of the time you hate your husband for no reason and sometimes you will loose affection towards your husband; you will only enjoy that sex of the night. And the truth is, it is so good, but it is hell. I was once a victim of a night sex slave, then I accepted Jesus as my lord and savior and I was delivered from all that sinful nature and I have a new life in Christ Jesus. Though that thing still comes to me in the night, the difference is now I have an ability of God to rebuke and cast that demon out of my life in Jesus’ name. I pray that God may deliver your families and open your spiritual eyes. When you sleep you’re supposed to sleep [without] having sex in your sleep — it is not normal. No doctor or anyone can help you without Jesus.

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Comment of the Week: How to Pay for Dinner, and How to Let Someone Else Pay

April 8, 2015

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photo via flickr

MVP commenter Johnny weighs in on our post “Who Do Men Think Should Pay On a Date?” We would say that his final line, “Two drinks buys you nothing but a chance,” should be put on T-shirts and handed out to college guys across the country. Except that certain fraternity members would probably take this to mean that plying women with drinks gives them a better chance of getting a woman in bed. Sigh.

“Whoever does the asking” is almost always the same as “the guy should pay,” because women almost never do the asking. Also I’m assuming this is an early date here, before the relationship is established.

The guy should pay. The woman should politely go for her purse, and the guy should nonchalantly tell her not to. If she insists on paying, the guy should let her.

With this in mind, the smart guy chooses an inexpensive early date. This not only saves him money, but spares her the discomfort of accepting a large offering from a suitor she might not even like. Who pays for a couple drinks shouldn’t be a big deal for either person.

If a woman can’t just accept two drinks with a demure “thank you,” she either definitely doesn’t like you, or has issues with men that will become annoying later on. Either way I wouldn’t ask her on a second date.

The guy should of course expect nothing in return – not even a second date. Two drinks buys you nothing but a chance.

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Comment of the Week: 6 Rules of the Pre-Relationship Fuck-Buddy Couple

April 1, 2015

2 Comments

Reader Arielle wrote a nice response to the post How Often Do Fuck Buddies Become Girlfriends?, basically outlining the 6 rules of having a fuck buddy who you might want to turn into a partner some day:

All of my relationships have been fuck buddies that turned into relationships.  Twice I’ve gotten my heart broken because the guy was really emotionally damaged, and it didn’t turn into a relationship.

My recommendations:

1) Go with the flow.  Don’t try to control the direction of everything, and be wary if he’s trying to control it. If he’s trying to set arbitrary rules or limit how much he sees you or the situations you do together, tell him to chill out or get out.

2) Don’t limit the affection.  Be affectionate, sweet, caring, everything that you would be to your close friends.  If you start to feel resentful that you’re not getting more from him, that’s a red flag, and you need to discuss it with him (in person, not text) or pull back.  Don’t let his issues with relationships prevent you from expressing your emotions, expressing romantic feelings, being affectionate, being yourself.  If you feel nervous or shy in his presence or lose your confidence, you need to get over it asap: fuck buddy situations are abusive to anyone who can’t speak their mind, and a guy will lose respect for you and himself if he knows you’re letting him use you.  You need to make it clear that you have a great time with him and would regret not getting to know him better.  If he asks for more, give him a reason for why this arrangement temporarily works right now for you:  you just got out of a relationship, you’re focused on school and just want to have fun, etc.

3) Don’t let your life revolve around him.  If he’s not your boyfriend, then you have to continue to flirt with other guys, talk to other people, plan your living and job situation as if you are single.  Don’t personally rely on his plans in any important way unless you’ve made a commitment.  Don’t let him have all your weekends or time.  You are single unless specifically stated otherwise.  Don’t let him be your only fun thing going on: you have to stay emotionally healthy.  Try not to think too much about him outside of the time you’re seeing him.  Travel on weekend trips without him.

4) Limit last minute sex dates.  Make him plan to see you, and think of fun and interesting things to do.  Cook with him, share music  with him, etc.  If he gets concerned that it’s too much like “boyfriend-girlfriend”, say “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t want you to feel pressured. I just want to have fun and this was fun.”

5) Make sure you’re always having fun.  If he stops being fun, or isn’t there for you when you need it, then pull out and say, sorry man.

6) Make sure you guys talk like friends in between, and are physically exclusive.  Don’t get an STD from this ish.

The pros of fuck buddy first are that a) you make sure you have awesome chemistry before committing; b) you make sure you guys have great sex before committing;  c) you can get to know who he is/what his apartment looks like, his real self, etc. before you commit to someone that is basically a stranger.  It’s more natural and less contrived.

The cons: Obviously, he might actually not want a relationship.  You might have sex with someone that has a lot of issues and get your feelings hurt. He might not put as much effort in, or feel he owes you anything.

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How Sex Addiction Almost Ruined My Life

March 31, 2015

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photo via flickr

Brian Whitney is a recovering sex addict and the author of the book Raping the Gods: A Tale of Sex and Madness, available at Amazon now. Today on EMandLO.com, he shares the story of how rehab helped him move past his sex addiction:

I don’t like calling myself a sex addict. When people hear that term, most of them tend to have one of three reactions.

Some people think sex addiction doesn’t exist, that it is just a made-up term to excuse bad behavior. A second group thinks that a sex addict is a crazy, out-of-control freak who thinks of nothing but getting laid every second of every day. The third group thinks it sounds fun: “What are you complaining about, man? You get laid all the time and you think it’s a problem?”

I was always different sexually, and it was a problem from a very early age. Of course I didn’t think of myself as an “addict” for quite a while — that took a few decades of my life being a disaster. I could tell a lot stories about what I was doing, but I’d rather just say I was really screwed up. My major issue was infidelity. I was often involved in three or four different relationships at once. I got an enormous rush from having multiple sexual partners and lying to all of them. This wasn’t about sex, although I did enjoy that; it was about control and power.

At one point I was married, having sex with three women at work, and telling two of them I loved them. To you that might seem horrible, or it might seem exciting. I don’t know. To me it was like walking around electrified, all day, and all night long. I would have sex with at least two women a day, sometimes four, and when I found time in between, I would beat off. It was a wild ride.

It might go without saying, but this caused problems in my life. I had numerous opportunities to stop taking this scene further, but I kept pushing it to the bitter end.

And that is where what the professionals call the “addiction” part comes in. I did things sexually, over and over again, that completely fucked up my life. Acting in the way I did gave me a huge rush, an enormous shot of dopamine.  Later, I would feel shame, depression and anxiety over my actions, and the only thing that would make me feel okay again was the rush I got from doing crazy shit sexually all over again.

And I couldn’t stop. No matter what happened, no matter how bad things got, even when I lost marriages and then homes because of my infidelity. I could never keep a job because of my sexual behavior. Instead of stopping, I was getting further into it, going into darker and more depraved places.

To many people, the thought of going to rehab for such a thing still seems bizarre. It seemed bizarre to me, but I went anyway, because what else could I do? But I didn’t want to do inpatient. Being locked up with twenty other guys like me for thirty days sounded like hell. So I chose a place in Los Angeles that did intensive outpatient work: I would stay in a hotel for two weeks, attend groups and individual counseling all day, go to Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings at night, and after two weeks I would come home, cured.

Just taking that step was dramatic. When you fly across the country and spend thousands of dollars to get help, there is no pretending anymore. The days of rationalizing my behavior as merely hedonistic were over.

They tried to integrate our families, girlfriends, ex-wives, and so on. At the end of the second week they all flew out, to meet with us and see how we had progressed. The answer to that question, at least when it came to me, was “not much.” You can’t change a lifetime of compulsive behavior by hanging out in L.A. for two weeks, going to groups in the day, and eating sushi at night with a bunch of other addicts.

Though my behavior seemed under control, my thoughts, fantasies, and impulses remained the same ones that had been roiling my brain for the last thirty years. Naively, I had thought that after two weeks of treatment they would be gone. But the only difference was that now, when I did something, I really felt like shit about it. At the end of two weeks it was obvious I wasn’t ready to deal with real life yet. So it was off to Philadelphia for a month of inpatient.

This was an entirely different scene: It looked and smelled gritty. This wasn’t a pretty place in Arizona where we climbed mountains and did equine therapy. It was in a shithole. We had to go to bed at a certain time, we slept on crappy beds, we couldn’t leave the facility, we had roommates. It was like a minimum security prison for people who did weird things.

The people were different here as well. Their problems were more serious. My roomie was straight out of jail for exhibitionism. There was a former NBA player who had the same problem; he had just come from prison, too. There was also a millionaire who had slept with thousands of people, from anonymous guys in subway bathrooms to beautiful female models. And a male nurse who went to sex clubs and screwed ten guys a night. It was hardcore.

I hated it there; it made me uncomfortable. I did things I didn’t want to do and dealt with issues I didn’t want to face, but, in the end, I did begin to change. I stopped having affairs and acting out in other ways, and I went on with my life. I got back together with a woman I cared about.

That was seven years ago. It is still a struggle of course. I am still me, I still get turned on by the same things. It isn’t that I don’t have sex anymore. I do, and I still have the same kinks. Writing about it helps. I recently wrote a book called Raping the Gods that tells the story of an out-of-control sex addict.

In my 40s now, I feel different and, dare I say, better. Over the past year or so there has been some change. I don’t hate myself so much. I keep the darkness off to the side. I just stay honest with people in my life and let them know who I am. And I don’t cheat on my partner. The thought of doing the things I used to do is thankfully no longer a turn on.

Brian Whitney is the author of Raping the Gods: A Tale of Sex and Madness, available at Amazon now.

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Why I Won’t Ever Regret Getting My Tubes Tied at 28

March 26, 2015

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by Chelsea Hottovy for YourTango  |  photo via flickr

What I want is to be happy.

I’m often told that I’d make a good mother. Depending on my relationship with the person making this wildly incorrect statement, I have one of two reactions: either a small, insincere smile and a “mmmm” response that does not invite further discussion or a hearty laugh followed by a firm “NO.”

Don’t get me wrong: I love kids. They’re hilarious, they’re adorable, and I (mostly) enjoy spending time with them. But without a doubt, I do not want them. And here’s why.

I don’t want to worry about diaper rash and “tummy time” and I don’t want to know what colic is.

I don’t want to put a kid on a Kindergarten waiting list and I don’t want to decide between public and private education. I don’t want to coordinate basketball practice drop-off with ballet lessons pick-up, I don’t want to help with trigonometry and darling, I will not deal with your teenage angst because you best believe I invented that sh*t. I’d rather have bamboo shoots shoved under my fingernails than try to figure out how to pay for my child’s college while I still owe roughly twelve kajillion dollars for my own degree. I’ve more than once done something “just to tell the grandkids about it,” but I never actually planned on there being any grandkids.

It amuses me to tell people I don’t want children because no one ever quite knows how to respond. I’ve gotten “Well, when you meet the right guy, you’ll change your mind,” which is basically suggesting I’m incapable of making decisions regarding my own life without consulting a nameless, faceless FutureMan and is, by the way, astonishingly offensive. Others immediately ask what I do for a living, as though my employer holds the key to my womb and has locked it up until I retire. I don’t really consider myself a career-minded kind of girl; I’ve always worked to live, not lived to work.

Two mothers have actually said to me, “I didn’t know what love was before having a baby. You should reconsider.” I’m happy they’re happy now but “not knowing love before kids” is one of the most acutely sad things I’ve ever heard. Occasionally, I get a hearty “F*ck Yeah!” from like-minded women, some of whom will eventually become mothers and some of whom will not. I appreciate the support.

But at this point, it doesn’t matter how much anyone tries to change my mind because the decision’s been made – permanently.

Last October, I spent a wonderful morning with my doctor, during which he performed a tubal ligation on me.

Yep, I got my tubes tied at 28.

I admit that once my doctor agreed to perform the surgery, I had a moment of panic. It immediately crossed my mind that maybe everyone was right and I was wrong and I would wake up at 30 and want a baby more than anything in the world or that maybe my “hard pass” on kids was a rebellion against expectations simply for the sake of a rebellion.

Maybe I would love the complete upheaval of my priorities and schedule and life in general. Shortly after these hysterical thoughts raced through my mind, though, I regained my sanity. I picked a date for the surgery. Done. Tubes tied.

Here’s the thing: I’ve spent years carefully crafting the most amazing life I can.

I’m surrounded by people I love very much, who love me in return. I’m well-educated and well-traveled. I have endless time to learn about things that interest me and to see wonderful things and to meet the greatest people on earth. I leave piles of library books all over my bedroom and plan fabulous trips all over the world. I stay up until 6am watching Sons of Anarchy because I know no small person is relying on me to feed them in a few short hours. I occasionally eat chips and salsa for breakfast and drink beer for dinner and feel no guilt that I’m teaching anyone horrific eating habits. I spend my days finding my bliss, like all the inspirational posters beg of me.

All this being said, I can’t wait to be an auntie. Whenever my friends start popping out kids, I’ll be there with inappropriately loud and expensive presents. I’ll be the aunt who slips them a vodka martini on their 16th birthday and I’ll rant and rail with the best of them whenever they feel slighted by other kids.

And when I’m off for six months teaching SCUBA in Venezuela, I promise to send lovely postcards. 

I get the reasons people want kids. I do. I’m not such a heartless, selfish monster that I’m incapable of understanding the appeal of a small person who loves you unconditionally and relies on you to guide them safely through a scary world. Parents are brave and strong and incredible people. But so are astronauts and brain surgeons and I don’t want to be those things, either.

What I want is to be happy.

And I’m doing that. I’m there, I’m living that dream. I’m happiest not being a mom, but hey … call me if you need a babysitter. I’m great in a pinch.

More from YourTango:

Is It Wrong NOT To Tell My Boyfriend That I’m A Prostitute?

10 Harsh Truths Your Husband’s Prostitute Wants You To Know

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Comments of the Week: Sexuality Is Fluid

March 25, 2015

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photo via flickr

We loved these two responses this week to our post, “Your Call: I Was Bi, But Now I’m Not Attracted to Men. What Happened?”

The first is from reader (and frequent Comment-of-the-Weeker!) Nikki:

You should look up “fluid.” That might be you. Some people’s sexual orientation shifts over time. In fact, some people identify their sexual orientation as fluid. There is research out there suggesting that fluid sexuality may be far more common than we think, especially among women.

I am sorry you are dealing with depression. As far as your attractions go, I think pointing to the depression is a red herring, or an attempt to pathologize your current lack of attraction to men. There is absolutely nothing wrong with not being attracted to men, even if you used to be. You might become attracted to men in the future, or you might not. You might still be bi, or you might be a lesbian. But don’t let anyone tell you who you should or shouldn’t be attracted to.

And the second is from Dave, another regular around these parts:

Disclaimer: I am not Bi.

However, I know I go through sexual phases. Sometimes I’m more interested in butts & sometimes I’m more interested in boobs. Sometimes I’m thinking about oral sex and sometimes I just want vaginal sex. Sometimes I’m interested in the same thing for a month or two and sometimes I want as much variety as possible.

I think it would be perfectly normal for a bisexual to go through phases as well and a couple of weeks is too short of time to lose your status as bisexual.

To be perfectly honest, after my son was born I was so tired that I barely thought about sex in any way for a month or two and that didn’t make me asexual because I’m back to a fairly normal sex life now.

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Comments of the Week: The Sexual Satisfaction & Compatibility Quiz

March 18, 2015

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photo via Wiki Commons

This week, in response to our Your Call question “My Husband and I Don’t Care That We Don’t Have Much Sex. Should We?“, two of our MVPs were quick on the draw with spot-on answers. First, Nikki wrote:

This sounds like more of the tyranny of “normal.” If you have a happy marriage, and you are both satisfied with the amount of sex that you are having, then you have nothing to worry about. Relationships and sexuality are not a one-size-fits-all proposition.

You are right that sex is important in a relationship, but what I think most of what you’re hearing is leaving out that “sex” really means “sexual satisfaction.” If you and your husband have that, you are in good shape.

The easiest way to put your concerns to rest is to have a frank and honest conversation with your husband. You say you have a trusting relationship, but you don’t mention whether this conversation has ever occurred. If it hasn’t, make sure it does. You can keep it simple: “Honey, I’ve noticed that the amount of sex we have has kind of fallen off over the years. I’m fine with it, and am happy with the way things are, but I want to make sure you are too.” If your husband is also content, you have nothing to worry about. If he misses having more frequent sex, then you can have a conversation about how to make sure his needs are addressed.

Then Johnny added his take:

Sex drive decreases with age. I was borderline priapic in my early 20′s. In my mid 30′s I am noticeably less horny than I was then.

Attractiveness also decreases with age (sorry. I’m not calling you or anyone else unattractive or old. But this is just a universal fact. It happens to everyone). So basically you’ve got two people who aren’t as hot or as horny as they used to be. This is totally normal and is only a problem when –

- attractiveness and horniness decrease at disparate rates between partners

- one partner’s attractiveness and horniness really PLUMMET.

Sounds like you and your husband are actually experiencing the ideal sexual denoument. Again, NOT singling you guys out here – what’s happening to you guys happens to ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF PEOPLE. You guys just happen to be experiencing this, like so many other things, as a healthy and loving couple. You’re going through it togeter – that’s good. Going through this as individuals is bad.

You’ve had three kids – mission accomplished. Your sex drives did what they’re there for. Anything else is just for fun. And if you both like the same amount of fun – whether that’s more fun or less fun – then great!

You and your husband sound like a great match. Don’t panic.

Based on their excellent responses, we’ve come up with a Sexual Satisfaction & Compatibility Quiz you and your partner can take:

  1. Are you happy together?
  2. Are neither of you complaining?
  3. Are you being honest with yourself?
  4. Are you being honest with your partner?
  5. Are your libidos lagging at similar rates?
  6. Are you aging (in looks) at similar rates?
  7. Have you talked about your sexual satisfaction with each other?
  8. Do you both feel sexually satisfied?

If you’ve both answered yes to five or more questions, then you and your partner are sexually satisfied and should not worry about the amount of sex you have. It’s about quality, not quantity.

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