vacation – which means we won’t be around as much over the next month. That said, we didn’t want to leave you in a lurch, with nothing new to read here while we’re away, so…

To help us cover things off in August we’ve recruited a slew of guest contributors, to share the stories of their best and worst dates EVER. Writers like: Alex, from the urbandater.com; Helene, the lovely lady behind Man-shopping in Paris; Jami, the woman responsible for all the hilarity to be found on Datewrecks.com; and everybody’s fave perv with a penchant for face-sitting, Ken, who holds it down at Lustmongers.com (just to name a few). That’s right folks, for the next five weeks you’ll be getting the best, the worst and the funniest dating stories we and the talented team we’ve assembled have to offer – simply because we adore you, our readers, and we don’t want you miss us for even one minute while we’re away.

Now about our time away, I know some of you are wondering where the metanotherfrog.com team is going and how long we’ll be gone, so let me fill you in. The crew is about to embark on our three week long European Debauchery Tour (I believe Elizabeth Rose is the one to thank for that name, but I’m sure none of you are surprised to hear that). Yes dear readers, Sam, Elizabeth and I, will be tearing it up in Scotland, England, Wales, Spain, and Ireland.

And you want to know what the best part about our pending trip is? We’re going to write about all the shiny new bed mates we hook up in our quest for the hottest vacation action we can find shenanigans, hi-jinks and straight up foolishness we get up to. Yes people, we’re going to share all the juicy highlights (and probably more than a few low-lights) with you all when we get back. (You’re excited now aren’t you? Yeah, I knew you would be.)

Good people, the fun begins this Monday with a five week run of dating stories, followed by our European Debauchery Tour Highlights in early September.  So, be sure to come back soon and check in frequently so you don’t miss a moment of the fun.

Skye

JFB posed an interesting question to me, both in the comment section of my last post here and in private:

“…I would like to see some specifics as to why this is enjoyable for women… Will this be covered in the next part of the series?”

It took me a couple of days to sort through what direction I wanted to go in with this essay… Do I poll groups of women to find out why they like butt secks? Do I dig out the books and pile this article full of statistics and research? Do I talk about my personal preferences?

I’ll start with this video clip:

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And now, picture me with a stupid grin on my face, eyes bright and wide, nodding my head up and down,

“Yes. Yes. I would allow that to be done to me. And YES, old broad, it’s normal.”

Then imagine me assuming the position, either with my clothes on in order to get a laugh out of the crowd or with my girly bits al fresco to, well…have some butt secks.

I think it’s impossible to really outline why people like butt secks – it’s totally subjective! Popular reasons, according to Ask Men, women love anal sex because it feels good and because it’s naughty. The article, while not a bad read, bothered me because only offered up two reasons why a woman would be into butt secks. I mean sure, the nerve endings all piled up in my bum light up with electricity and send waves of pleasure through my body in an entirely different language. Yep, I really enjoy that “full” feeling, particularly when I’m manually stimulated, or (gasp!) penetrated vaginally at the same time. But I feel like these physical manifestations are not doing butt secks justice! It would be like saying, “I like kissing because of the way it feels on my lips and tongue.” What about the feelings you get? The butterflies and flippy-sensation in your stomach when you’re in serious lip-lock with your lover? Those things count just as much. The same thing applies to butt secks for me. It’s about way more than just the act. And it’s not that it’s kinky. It really isn’t about it being naughty for me. I mean, I’m writing a column about why I like butt secks… I think that sort of takes the whole naughty-factor out of the equation, right?

No, for me, it’s about submission. I really had to dig deep for the answers here and I really wasn’t comfortable with them once I sorted through them. Me? Submissive? But I’m the least submissive person you’ll ever meet! I’m never going to wear a ball gag. I’m never going to answer to a Master. This is not the kind of submission that I enjoy. For me, it’s about being so intimately close to another person that I trust them to do with me what they will…to let go of the control, even if I don’t give it up entirely.

My friend Mandy taught me a phrase earlier this year: topping from the bottom. Basically, this means you are a submissive person, but still bossy and controlling in bed. With some discussion, we decided this was the best term to describe me.

In some ways, I think of my pussy as my property but there is this shared-ownership situation between my lover and myself over my ass. There’s a woman in Atlanta, Alexyss Tylor, who used to have a cable access show and would go on and on about Vagina Power. Now, she’s mostly crazy and I wouldn’t take her too seriously, but there IS power in it, guys. I never surrender my pussy – it’s a gift I give, after an appropriate amount of teasing. But my ass? I don’t think about “giving” butt secks, I think about my lover “having” butt secks with me.

In essence, vaginal sex means I fuck him. Anal sex means he’s fucking me.

It’s the give and the take. There is a complete shift in my being when I have anal sex with my partner – the noises I make change, my orgasms are entirely different. It is the time when I most feel like an animal. And I can ride his cock and run the show and be the one that’s breaking a sweat and getting tired, but at the end of it all, he was the one that was fucking me.

I’m the girl that walks up to a group of men at a party, brazen and not shy. I’m the girl that makes eyes at that skinny bearded and bespectacled boy at the end of the bar. I’m the girl that will straight-up put her car in park and get out to yell at some road raging asshole. I’m the girl with the confidence. The gusto. I don’t demand attention, I just get it.

But you see, that’s exactly why I love butt secks. It’s the ONE time that I put all of my control on the shelf, put myself face-down in a pose that would be fit for worshiping a gilded god, and I do what I’m told.

“Lift your hips,” he’ll say.

“Come closer to the edge of the bed.”

Strong hands, pressing into my hips and then into the small of my back, causing that really great deep arch.

“Give me your hands.”

And then, because I can never totally let go, a command from me, the girl that likes to top from the bottom…

“Pull my hair!”

Man Month.

How could we have just one month focusing on those hairy,
grunting, bear-wrestling MALE specimens when I spend every month focusing my lady parts towards in a slightly intimidating and oft unnerving fashion?

A hairy, grunting, bear-wrestling MALE specimen - the stuff ER's nether regions dreams are made of.

So what wonderful insights did we grasp from this month of old spice, cigar smoke and whisky?

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Firstly we tackled the myth that men have feelings?! Oh sorry, I mean the myth that men don’t have feelings. Mind you, I didn’t – I chose a more self indulgent route. Sue me.

Men Have Feelings

10 Things You Shouldn’t Say When a Man Opens Up

All Men Are Bastards

FYI Ladies: Only Sociopaths Feel Nothing

Guest Post: A Word on Men and Emotions

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Next, as we discussed men and skinny women, we shared a catchy new T shirt slogan,  and Ken explained how he discovered his love for voluptuous women after suffering a broken nose during a romp with a skinny girl:

Do All Men Prefer Skinny Women

The Skinny on Women and Thinness

Why Skinny Chicks?

Two in the Pink, One in the…aka My Favourite Links (A brief side step by Sam for comedic relief.)

Guest Post: In Praise of Not-So-Skinny Women

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During week three we shared ours thoughts on men and their one track minds. This time Skye took a diversionary tactic. (Seriously, you cannot keep us on topic here at metanotherfrog.com, it’s like herding kittens. Get them all in one place and you have an urge to drown them in a sack.)

Sex We All Want It

Sex is Awesome

Do Men Really Have One Track Minds

Say It Loud – I’m a Slut and I’m Proud

Guest Post: Men Want Sex

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Next up…men and cheating, which since I don’t believe in monogamy to begin with gave me a wonderful excuse to run delightfully off topic again. Meow. (Oh look, a large bag with tuna in it - I’ll just step inside, purrr.)

Is Polyamory Right for You?

Cheat Sheet

Men and Cheating: A Reality Check

Top 10 Ways to Tell He’s Cheating

Guest Post: Men Only Cheat When…

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Finally, we ended the marvels of man month by proving beyond all doubt that men are stupid. Sorry, that’s not right; we proved they aren’t all stupid. (I am having trouble focusing. The tuna bag seems to have closed above me and now I’m in the  sack with water rising around my feet…)

Men Are Stupid

If Men Are So Stupid

Rules of Engagement

A Little Bit of This, a Little Bit of That

Guest Post: Men Aren’t Stupid

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Enjoy!

Elizabeth Rose

The gods of the blogosphere have determined that it is my task, my duty to recap the shenanigans we got up to during Relationship Month. Considering my studied and determined disdain for the manner in which most people go about handling their relationships and considering that Barack Obama was still a senator in Illinois the last time I was in a “proper” relationship, I thought this was akin to asking David Duke to address the NAACP or asking R. Kelly to take your daughter out for ice cream. You know. Ill advised.

Well, it appears the gods have a sense of humour. So here I am. I figured the best way for me to sum up Relationship Month was to share what I learned. Or to share the nuggets of wisdom that have made me look upon the conventional modern day committed monogamous relationship in a favourable light. So, without further ado here is my list of things learned about relationships during metanotherfrog’s Relationship Month:

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Ha Ha! Just kidding. Relationship Month was a treasure trove of insightful and hilarious commentary on the modern day love match. From first phone calls, first dates and first f****, to office parties, trips together, waning lust, communication tips and the pain of a break up, we covered a lot of territory. With that said, take a look through our archives and rediscover the joys and pains (word to Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock) of metanotherfrog’s relationship month.

Sam Sharpe (aka The F’in Man)

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The Highs: From The Meet Cute to the First I Love Yous

The Meet Cute

The First Phone Call

The First Date

The First Kiss

The First Time

A Perfect Night

On The Wings of Love? (The First Trip)

For You, Just Because

Sex + Experimenting = Fun

Meeting the Fam

First Office Party Survival Tips

Guest Post: Love – A Choice

I LOVE YOU

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The Lows: Right After the First I Love Yous to the (Often) Bitter End

Planning: The Beginning of the End?

Living Together

Upgrade You

Many Sexless Nights

Hello Granny Panties, Goodbye Morning Wood

Intolerable Defects

4 Tips to Keep You Communicating

Noticing His Friends

Sharing Bodily Functions

Away From Her

IT’S OVER

*Disclaimer. There are clingy chicks in the world. There are clingy boys in the world. This is about the rest of us.  Who get a bad rep.

I’m a planner. Some people think that’s a flaw. I think it’s brilliant. And FYI: Planning and spontaneity are not mutually exclusive. My passport is always up to date. At a moment’s notice I’m ready for a summer road trip. Camping? Sure!  ouse-party in Kelowna tonight? Fuck yeah…I’ll get gas, you get snacks and we can be there in five hours! I’m basically up for anything at anytime. Party at the moon tower and I’m rounding up money, kegs (for you guys of course, I’ll drink diet coke) and Mathew McConaughey. But essentially I’m looking for fun fun fun all the time time time.

Now while I may spend the majority of my days egotistically thinking I’m super awesome and RARE, I would hedge my bets that there are lots of lovely ladies out there just like me. Ladies who have careers. Ladies who have friends. Ladies who have goals, dreams and priorities. Frankly, Ladies who have shit to do. And yet. Ladies who have time to date. Like I have time to date. Ladies like me, who are available. And not because we’re clingy. Or desperate. Or insecure. Weak or sad. Losers or duds.

We’re just simply not retarded. Allow me to elaborate.

The biggest complaint I hear from men (trying to date me, trying to date others, floundering about) is that they’re busy. They’re tired. They’ve just got so much going on *stifles eye roll* But here’s the thing of the thing. There are a lot of hours in the day. There are a lot of days in a week and weeks in a month. Our lives are fucking filled with time.  So why can’t these men find any of it.

They’re retarded? They’re confused? Something in their DNA? Momma didn’t teach ‘em right? They’re really just big babies? I honestly couldn’t tell you. It baffles me to no end.

Logic tells me that fun…is fun. Experience tells me that fun is…awesome.  And since you can never have too much awesome in your life, logic tells me that I would want to squeeze every drop I can of it into my life. I mean honestly.

I like to make plans in advance. Why? Because then I can fit more in. I don’t wait till the weekend to make weekend plans. Why?  Because when three people call Saturday afternoon to kick it Saturday night…I have to pick one. Only one plan gets made. I only get 1/3 of the fun. However, if those same three people call by Wednesday, it’s likely that I can make plans with one on Friday night, one on Saturday night, and possibly one even Sunday afternoon. Three out of three. That’s one whole cup of fun. Fucking Awesome.  Now sometimes shit doesn’t work out and schedules collide and other times there simply aren’t plans to be made. And that leaves all that lovely room for spontaneity.

And I know that often guy’s want to leave their options open. They don’t want to commit to a plan, a girl, an idea for the weekend. And that’s fine. Go ahead and wrap yourself up in your issues. It could very well work out awesomely for you. I’m not saying I have all the answers. I’m just offering an alternative perspective. A reason she doesn’t answer your weekend texts. A reason she cuts ties after three weeks without connecting for a date. So like I said, I don’t know all the answers. Not by a long shot. But I do know about chicks. And I know about awesomeness, lol. And I know about planning. And I know about having the most fun possible. So with all that said, I leave you with this.

Boys, I beg you. Next time you meet a girl who only wants to make advance plans with you. Or calls you on Tuesday to make plans for the weekend. Try to remember. While it is possible she’s clingy or high maintenance. It’s just as likely that she’s awesome…and quite simply smarter than you. So do a cross-word or brush your teeth with the other hand and get that brain power up. Step it up a notch, get your shit together and get the most out of your life. Or don’t. I mean do what you want. But don’t be shocked when you call on Saturday and she’s busy.

Just Sayin’.

Class dismissed.

I have a confession. A few weeks ago due to some intense lust/like I was feeling I broke my number one dating rule – no dating younger men. Silly as it may seem to some of you this rule has served me well for much of my dating life. In any case, against my better judgement I decided to date this 30 year old guy, who I’m going to call The Kid (you’ll see why in a minute), who I’d been crushing on for over a year.

We ended up going out about half a dozen times and every date was great. He was always a gentleman, super polite and attentive. Our dates would usually start off with some intense conversation about the events of the day, our writing, and/or books we loved, followed by some solid make out sessions. Besides his being a bit coquettish between our dates, it seemed The Kid liked being around me as much as I enjoyed being with him. I was just about ready to pitch my longstanding and for the most part unwavering rule about dating young dudes out the window, until the night he earned his name. The night he sent me the following text…

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TK: Hey sweetie how u doing. I’m here with my boy eating some food. I wanted to see your sweet self tonight. I promise to be a good boy. I will do anything u ask. Hope you had a good night so far.

WTF? (FYI: When I received the text I’m sure I read it a few hundred times. I was that confused. The Kid never ever spoke to me like that and sexting – even something as soft core as what appeared on my screen that night – was so not his style.) Maybe he’s drunk? What to do? Hmmm…Play along and see what happens next?

Skye: Re your promise, I hope you mean that becuz I plan to test your limits the next time we meet.

TK: My limits are your limits. Life is too short. With that said u have to show me what u want me to do and in return do for me as I do for u. Tonight is a night I would do and touch anything in any way u need me to. I hope your panties are wet for me with all your love juice.

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PAUSE.

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Did he really just write that?? No one is going to believe this shit. I gotta tell…Max.

So I called Max and read her his message. She LHFAO, declared that The Kid’s text was an “epic fail and the “lamest thing she’d heard in a long time”, and then asked me, “What you going to do next?”

“Call him and find out what all this mess is about.”

“Okay, but make sure you call me back after you talk to him. I’m sure it’s going to be a great story.”

So I hung up and called The Kid.

“Hey Skye, what’s up?”

“Hi. I’m calling because you’ve been sending me some strange text messages. What gives?” I asked him.

(Pay attention folks – it starts to get real good right about here.)

“Seriously? Well, my friend is with me and he had my phone, so I’ll ask him.”

Are you fucking kidding me? Are you in grade 5? “Okay, so he had your phone, but out of all your contacts why would he choose to text me?”

“I don’t kno—” The Kid started to say, but he was cut off by another male voice that came booming through the phone. Apparently I was on speaker.

“Hey, I don’t know how to use no iPhone. I was telling him what to type to you,” the friend (whose name to this day I still don’t know) said, laughing real loudly.

FML. Have I landed on Planet Stupid tonight? “Uh huh. I figured something was up, because The Kid doesn’t talk to me like that.”

Well who told me to say that?  The Kid’s friend who didn’t know me from Adam, but obviously felt we were real cool, had the nerve to respond with…

“Oh no? I’ll have to school him then.”

Vexed, I opened my mouth to speak, but the Kid who apparently still thought this was all fun and games (but that’s generally what kids think about life right?) spoke first.

“Skye, you need another blogger? Want some good stuff for your site? You should check my friend here.”

This really isn’t happening is it? I took a deep breath and said, “We’re good thanks, but do you guys think women really fall for that kind of shit?”

“You’d be surprised how many  do, Skye.” The Kid said, peevishly.

I looked up at the ceiling high above me. Thank you Lord for giving me the sense not to bone his childish ass. “Really? That’s funny, because my girl thought it was lame too.”

“What?!?! Why you got to tell your friends everything?” The Kid said, sounding indignant.

Who the fuck is this boy? Lord, where is the MAN I was crushing so hard on who was witty, charming and seemingly intelligent? Bring him back, PLEASE!

Then the Kid’s Friend chimed in again. “Oh yeah, you in a catch 22 now girl huh? Getting the text and telling your friend his business.”

Excuse me asshole, have we met? I ignored Mr. Asshole and said, “Kid, you’re telling me that you think it’s okay for you and your boy to sit in your car and joke about the stupid-ness you’re texting me, but I can’t share the joke with my friend?  Get over yourself guy.”

“Oooo boy. She’s a fiery one. You’re going to have a good time with her tonight,” his friend said laughing even louder than he did the first time.

Oh no he didn’t? Why is he still talking? And more importantly why is The Kid allowing him to speak to me like that? By then people, I was about ready to climb through the phone and choke somebody.

The Kid, who to his credit finally seemed to notice that I was about to tear both him and his friend new ones, rushed to end the call. “Look Skye, can we talk later? I’ll call you later okay?”

“Whatever.” I mumbled and then hung up the phone.

As I laid my head down on my pillow to get catch some Z’s the texts and the conversation that followed was all I could think about. I mean I’d received more than a few drunken phone and text messages in my time, but nothing that compared to The Kid’s performance that night. How could a grown ass man be so easily influenced by his friend to do something so stupid?  And if The Kid had actually sent those texts after being told what to type by his friend, Mr. Asshole, he was obviously a moron. The only question was how did he hide that fact from me for so long? And why did he allow his boy to talk to me like I was some dumbass  chick? And just what had he told the man about me to warrant his “You’re going to have a good time with her tonight” comment? People, I was seething.

Needless to say it took me forever to fall asleep, and when I woke up bleary-eyed and unrested the next morning I was still bent. So I picked up my phone and sent The Kid a text message stating the following:

“Sorry it had to end like this. Thanks for the time spent and please feel free NOT to contact me again.”

A week and a half passed before The Kid, aka Lame Ass, sent me another text message that read…

“You have to read a book called Crush It – all about blogging and social media. You’ll thank me latr.”

Riiiiight.

Although I thought about thanking him for his message with a heartfelt “FUCK YOU!” I didn’t bother. After all, as my girl Michie says, silence is often the best closure. The Kid and all the man-children out there like him are officially off the list. As a direct result of his near infantile behaviour I’ve reinstated my rule about not dating younger men, with a corollary:

I, Skye Blue, will not date younger men – happily use them for practice (like my girl Jess intends to this summer), yes – but NEVER EVER will I date them.

Just sayin’.

I’ve been trying to write this piece for a couple of weeks now. I’ve asked friends, family, andthe man-friend. I’ve consulted Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell…even Dan Savage and what I’ve come up with is this…
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Women ARE emotional.
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But guess what? Being emotional is NOT the terrible thing it is made out to be. The problem isn’t that woman are too emotional, it’s that people associate having emotions with weakness. However, emotions are not a sign of weakness; in fact they are completely the opposite they make us stronger. Imagine for a second what it’s like to be a guy, what it’s like to have to hide your emotions because if your dudes saw you crying they’d assume you were less of a man. Unless of course you were all crying after a big game…that kind of crying is cool.

There is something special about the relationship between two women. It’s a sisterhood that no man can ever really understand. We know each others secrets, we cry together, we laugh together and we love together – all without fear of retribution. Sometimes I even wonder if men are jealous of our bonds, of our connections. I wonder if they ever think about what it would be like to live without fearing their emotions.

Before you get excited by my Spice Girl-esque girl power schpeal keep reading; there is another side to this coin. While I’m happy to say that as a woman I can feel freely, that most people will just accept it as part of my innate femininity; I am also frustrated by my inability to separate myself from those very same emotions. Girls you know what I’m talking about. When the man-friend says something we don’t like, we tend to try and read more into the words that he is saying than is actually there. We search for emotions behind the words, even if it isn’t there. Usually he is saying exactly what he’s thinking and we spend so much time trying to decode words that don’t need decoding that we end up fighting over nothing.

Recently I found myself doing exactly that – putting meaning into words that were so very clear and honest that I assumed they had to have some big and deeply hidden emotion behind them. I ran through past relationships, books and Sex & The City quotes in my head, thinking, “He’s just not that into you” in a situation where I had no right to be thinking anything aside from, “Isn’t it awesome that there’s a dude in my life who wants to be totally straight with me.” I let my emotions and my history take over and I made him feel guilty for being honest with me. Right move? No. Chick move? I’m ashamed to say…yes.

But how do you find a middle ground? How do you embrace your emotions without assuming every sentence uttered by his pouty just shy of perfect lips is fraught with the same kind of emotion we throw behind our own words? You can try to…

Remember that not everything has a double meaning.

Remember that he is capable of the same kind of intense mind shattering feelings that you are.

Remember that when he’s feeling something he’ll tell you (and trust me you won’t have to decode a word).

Remember that unless you have a very CLEAR and REAL reason to believe otherwise, you should 1) ALWAYS assume that your man-friend is being straight with you, and 2) AVOID geting mad about things that were unsaid – because if he’s not saying it, you’re probably the only one thinking it.

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And ladies, the next time you feel something intense, wonderful, sad, terrible or lovely – just go with it. The boys aren’t watching and even if they are, they’ll likely chalk it all up to your girlishness. Too bad for them they don’t know how awesome it is to be a girl.

Women. Too emotional? Irrational? Reactionary?

I can only speak from my own personal experience. And that experience tells me that the answer is a resounding, emphatic, delivered-while-jumping-up-and-down-and-waving-my-arms “Yes!”

There may be one or two exceptions in my chequered past. But for the most part, they’re all the same. If I’m a few minutes late coming home, I get a crazed call screaming, “Who is she?” If I can’t make her Dad’s birthday party because of a business trip, she insists I hate her parents and want them dead. If I fall asleep during the chick flick we’re watching, I’m not sensitive to her feelings.

I’ve had girlfriends break down in tears because I was too slow to notice a new haircut. One who threatened to punch out a female ticket-taker at the local movie house because she thought she was “making a play for my guy.” Another who stopped talking to her best friend for three years because she was convinced the girl wore the same dress as her to a wedding out of spite.

Again, I can only base this on the women I know. And with my predilections and obtuse desires (which I give far too much screen-time to at my blog, Lustmongers), it could very well be that the women I know represent a small demographic. But in my experience, if there’s a conclusion to be jumped to, a handle to be flown off, or a boyfriend to be kicked in the balls based purely on suspicion and nothing resembling hardcore facts, women are gonna do it.

But, in fairness, I can honestly say that most guys I know – including myself – are pretty much the same. In fact, I’d say that a lot of my buds are far more emotional and reactionary than the women I know. This is especially evident when it comes to relationships. I’ve known some jealous women in my time, but those women got nothin’ on us guys. In fact, jealousy is the one emotion men do particularly well.

A good example of this is my pal Owen. Owen has never trusted a single woman he’s dated. In fact, whenever these women are out of his sight, he organizes groups of buddies to pull some undercover work and follow her at various check-points throughout the city. And as a guy once assigned to the “Beacon to Newbury Street” beat, I can tell you that I’m not exaggerating. God as my witness, I even saw Owen don a fake beard to follow a former girlfriend on the subway to make sure she really was going to a cousin’s birthday party as she claimed.

Though his motives can be questioned, I totally sympathize with Owen. There’s a reason most guys wanna make like Spider-Man and slap a tracer on their girlfriends’ backs whenever said ladies — particularly in packs — are hitting the town. And that reason is that we, as men, hit the town. And we know what we do when we hit the town, and that is mentally undress everything with breasts and a heartbeat that happens within our field of vision. After a few beers, it only gets worse, as we start imagining what it would be like to 69 the hat-rack in the corner of the bar.

Actually, I’m only half-joking. But the bottom line is that when guys head out on the town, the punch list of activities usually looks something like this:
1) Look at women.
2) Consume massive quantities of alcohol.
3) Shift from “Looking at” to “Interacting With” mode.
4) Attempt to sell women on the virtues of letting us in their trousers.
5) Absorb slap, continue drinking, continue ogling.
6) Repeat until arrested, broke, shot, etc.

You get the point. Guys go out because that’s where the women are. So when our ladies tell us that they’re going out, we figure that unless they’re heading to “2-for-1 dyke night” at the local Pizza Hut, they will most likely be in some establishment where there will be men for them to look at, and men looking back at them. And this bothers us to no end.

For inexplicable chromosomal reasons, women seem perfectly capable of going out with their friends, having some drinks, dancing and flirting innocently, and actually heading back home without the need to blow the bartender. Guys have never been able to get our arms around this concept, and the amount of suspicion our bodies can hold is usually directly proportionate to the amount of guilt we’re carrying.

But it’s always been this way. We’re all emotional, irrational and reactionary, but we make each other that way. And so long as we all love fucking, spooning, snogging, dry-humping, six-hour make-out sessions, slow dances at the corner bar and pressing each other against alley walls in a dull haze of sweat and booze, that’s just the way it’s going to be.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fake beard to put on, and a girlfriend to follow through downtown Boston.

In Trust Me, I Have No Use For Your Sperm, a guest post I did for Mike Masters back in May, I tackled the issue of eligible bachelors being skittish about dating their female counterparts, due to fears about being bamboozled into walking down the aisle and/or trapped into procreating.  In that post I lamented the difficult time women like me, who aren’t singularly focused on getting married (if at all) have in dealing with such men. Today, I’m going to hit this topic from a different angle, and focus on the fact that these men believe that every woman they run into will eventually start sweating them for a ring and/or some seed.

Let me start by stating the obvious. Many women…

• Become driveling idiots at the first sight of an infant.
• Lose breath in the presence of diamonds – especially if they’re set in a gold band.
• Swoon as we watch the groom dote over his bride at a wedding.

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But come on now, let’s be fair. Babies are ridiculously cute, small and cuddly; diamonds shine like nothing else; and is there anything more amazing than watching a man who is publicly pledging his complete and total commitment to his woman – that’s the shit every Rom Com and Harlequin Romance novel we’ve ever seen or read is made of. What are we girls to do?

That said, I’d like to add an important corollary. Every woman who expresses an interest in you isn’t doing so because her empty womb is throbbing or because she’s tired of nervously rubbing the ringless 4^th digit of her left hand.  Some of us, express interest in you just because…

• Our friends dared or bribed us to.
• It’s been a long time and the cobwebs forming in our coochy are getting out of hand.
• We think you’re amazingly hot and hope that all the attention we show you will result in our eventually being paid in penis.
• The last few guys we got naked with had VSDs and we’re trying desperately to break our streak of bad Knob Karma
• We think you’ll make a good substitute dude, while we work on getting the attention of the man we really want to bed, date or even marry.
• We’re looking for a light and breezy summer fling and you look like you have a lot of stamina (here’s to you Jess Downey).
• We love men and recognize that a little male companionship that includes good conversation and a whole lot of GREAT SEX – even if it never leads to marriage – is something we want in our lives.

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Boys, just because you happen to meet a woman of childbearing age (who may or may not be broody), who’s interested in you and happens to want to have sex, you shouldn’t automatically assume that she wants to be your wife or have kids with you.  Women who are sane clear-thinking (i.e. the one’s you should be dating) and recognize that:

• There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to get married and/or have children
• There is definitely nothing wrong with NOT wanting to get married and/or have children (though women in this camp will often hear that they’re selfish. WTF?)
• Without a doubt it is COMPLETELY wrong when one or both parties in a given connection can’t accept that they want different things in life and aren’t compatible in that regard.
• It’s incredibly misguided to pressure someone into marrying you.
• It’s equally misguided to ask someone to give up on their dreams of marriage in order to be with you.

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And as a result we can happily date and fuck you without pressuring you to marry or breed us up. Why? Because we clear-thinking chicks fall into one of two camps.

Those who don’t want to get married and/or breed.

Or

Those who do and are very secure in the knowledge that if you, the flavour of the moment, end up not being a good fit, another man – Mr. Right in fact (to be clear that’s not Mr. Right Now, Mr. He’ll-Have-To-Do-Cuz-The-Years-Are-Rushing-By-and-My-Eggs-Are-Dying, or Mr. But-I’ve-already-Invested-So-Much-Time-In-This-Relationship) – will eventually come along…

or not.

And newsflash: despite the popular belief that we’ll die of consumption if he never appears – we’ll be okay.

Really.

Ah women and the truth…it’s a relationship more fraught than the Capulets and the Montagues, the Jets and the Sharks, the Crips and the Bloods. Not that we gals will admit it of course. See we like to delude ourselves by proclaiming that honesty is one of the most important characteristics a man can have while leaving out the huge caveat:

“…as long as it doesn’t hurt my feelings”.

Did you get that? Let me say it again: we want you to tell us the truth but we don’t want you to hurt our feelings.

If you’re asking yourself “how the f*ck am I supposed to do that?” you’re not alone. Most men never master this trick and instead opt for bold-faced lying in response to difficult questions. And women, trained as we are in the art of sniffing out falsehoods, invariably catch you. Which leads to arguments and withholding of sex, which is no fun for anyone.  Luckily for you, I – the perfect hybrid of woman and man – have devised a foolproof  solution to this issue.

Now I know my friend Sam Sharpe gave you the rundown of how he avoids the bold-faced lie and instead answers common relationship questions with unbridled honesty, but I don’t advise that course of action for the faint of heart. Not only does complete honesty require a strong constitution to deal with all the fall-out, but you also have to be able to spot a swindle disguised as an innocent question. So for my men out there who are not named after super-heroes, here is your cheat sheet for avoiding these common relationship minefields:

1. How do I look?
Most of the time when your woman asks you a question about her looks, it’s a trap. She’s looking for a gas-up, not an honest answer. So if your woman walks into a room after an hour of prep-work and asks you how she looks, your answer can only be this: “great”.

And I can hear your little puss brains buzzing right now with your buts…

But what if she really doesn’t look good in what she has on?
But what if there’s something else I would prefer her to wear?
But what if what she’s wearing is not appropriate?

Yeah in all these scenarios your answer is still “great”.

If you really want her to change her clothes, try reverse psychologizing her. Say something like “no baby that looks great. No really. At first I was thinking you should wear that black thing but this is a million times better. For real”. Then leave the room and start watching highlights. She’ll be out in 0.02 seconds wearing that black thing and you’ve avoided an argument.

2. Where is this relationship going?

Another one where she’s looking for something other than the truth. In this case, it’s reassurance she’s after, so rather than giving her the truth raw dog i.e. “nowhere”, “the bedroom”, “I never thought about it” or “I’m using you to get over my ex”, try a little evasion.  A line like “I’m enjoying spending time with you and want to see what happens” covers up a multitude of sins and saves you from a big long conversation about your relationship.

3. Which one of my friends would you f*ck?

If you answer this question truthfully I will hunt you down like a dog and kill you. What she’s really asking you here is which of her friends it’s not safe to leave you alone with and I promise you – if you give her the idea that you’ve even remotely considered slamming one of her friends you will never hear the end of it.

The correct answer here is something evasive like “Hmm…I never really thought about it, but probably none of them. They’re not really my type”. Then for God’s sake start kissing on her or something to distract her before she can call you on the ridiculousness of your statement.

4. Did you f*ck her?

This is a tricky one because she could be looking for reassurance, but more than likely she is setting a trap for you. If you slammed the girl in question, you have two choices: evade – which is tricky and unlikely to work – or deny. As my buddy Dr. Jay says, Deny, deny, deny…at least until you’ve ascertained what her motivation is for asking the question. Remember that if you start out with a lie you can always come back with the truth, but if you open with the truth you’ve got nowhere to go.

Oh and of course if by some chance your answer is no, you’re golden. Go ahead and tell her the truth.

5. How often do you jerk off/watch porn?

Now you’re probably thinking, but Max why do I have to lie about this? What’s the big deal? But it’s a tricky one. For some women this won’t be an issue at all  – I personally don’t rate a man who doesn’t watch porn and/or masturbate on a regular – but if your girl is asking the question, the wrong answer will be a big deal. Telling your girl that you jerk off daily or watch porn hourly is more than likely going to result in her thinking you’re not satisfied by her. Which will then lead to her becoming self-conscious in bed. Which will decrease the quality and frequency of sex. So do yourself a big favour and try some creative accounting: take your number, subtract 7, and divide it in half.

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There you go guys. Memorize these answers and you will never be caught off-guard by your woman’s tongue-lashing with nothing to say for yourself but “I thought you wanted my honest answer?!?”

Trust me, you’ll be thanking me later.