MY BRAIN, MY HEART, MY GUT AND MY VAG.

Every time I'm faced with man issues, there's always this little voice inside of me. And then another. And another. And another. The only one that made sense was the one insisting that I eat more fried chicken.

 

These voices came from four highly opinionated body parts: my brain, my gut, my heart and my vag.

 

These crazy bitches bark orders and advice at me incessantly, often at the same time. They are all saying something different, and sometimes I’m not sure who’s saying what. It can be quite maddening.

 

“Go out with him again, he’s hot and funny!” Wait… is that my brain talking… or my vag? I really want to go out with him again, so maybe it’s my gut. My heart jumps whenever he calls… so maybe it’s my heart talking. Shit, I don’t know.

 

Let me introduce you to the players:

 

MY BRAIN

 

In a nutshell, my brain is a workaholic. She overthinks, overanalyzes, and considers then reconsiders every possible angle of every situation.

 

I’m a cerebral chick, I know that. I always want to make the right decision but never know what it is, so I think and think and think until my eyeballs bleed. And then if I ever do make a decision, I’m never sure if it’s the best one, so I think and rethink some more.

 

I implore you, lobotomize her immediately and put her out of her misery.

 

MY HEART

 

Ah, my heart. She is… damaged. The wear and tear on this item should qualify me for a newer model, but sadly, we’re only allotted one per lifetime.

 

Sometimes she’s afraid to speak up, largely because my brain often tells her what an idiot she’s been in the past. Nevertheless, when she does speak, she speaks volumes.

 

Folks often say, “Follow your heart.” And despite all the risks this might involve, somehow, I still want to believe it. And it’s why I gave my ex-boyfriends a lot of second chances.

 

MY VAG

 

This little bitch always gets me into trouble. When she gets lonely, there’s no telling what she’ll do. I think it’s fairly common knowledge that the best decisions are not made by your hoo-ha — but she’s crafty.

 

She talks to the other organs while I’m not looking to try and sway them over to her side. She’s very charismatic and persuasive — much like Jim Jones, or Dakota Fanning.

 

She’s also a master ventriloquist. She’ll say something and I’ll swear it’s my brain talking. Gotta keep an eye on this one. When she doesn’t behave, I’ll sometimes threaten another Brazilian wax, but she remains undeterred.

 

MY GUT

 

When people tell me, “Trust your gut, it’s never wrong,” I want to kick them in the nards. It sounds like sound advice on the surface, but not when your gut has multiple personality disorder.

 

One day, my gut says, “Fuck him off! You don’t have anything in common and it’s just wrong!” The next day, she says, “Don’t dismiss it so fast! You have a great connection and he’s an amazing guy!”

 

Very rarely do I experience an overwhelming “gut instinct.” Sometimes I think I do — but it changes by the hour. How can I trust my gut when she’s so damn wishy washy?

 

I have always envied people who can make a decision on the spot and never look back. Perhaps their brain, heart, gut and vag all get along and make a team decision. Or maybe one of them is the captain and always calls the shots.

 

But mine just can’t seem to get their shit together. I’ve got the Bad News Bears playing inside of me and we lose every time.

 

The Scarecrow, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion and Dorothy searched all of Oz for these four items. (In the original version, Dorothy asked the Wizard for a vag. That’s why she’s so popular with the gays.)

 

I want to tell them that these organs really aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. In fact, they can have mine — I’ve had enough.

 

From now on, I’m leaving all my decisions up to my buttocks.

Dick Pics

And so it happened...I was asked to blog about men sending us dick pics. Here's the first draft...

 

Hey guys, what’s up? Your penis. Right. Very funny. And original, I might add. And speaking of unoriginal matters involving Mr. Winky, I’ve got a question for you: What’s up with the dick pics?

 

Over the past couple of years as a single blogger, I’ve talked to many ladies about many dating issues. And I have learned that a sizeable number of women have at least once fallen victim to the unwelcome cock shot. It might appear in a text, an e-mail or just hanging out on an online dating site. In fact, in her hilarious memoir, Jenny Lawson reported that as an HR manager she’d catch a different employee e-mailing his junk at least once a quarter. That’s a lot of peen to screen.

 

And of course, it leaves us women asking one question:

 

WHY???

 

Is “Looking forward to meeting you” code for “Send a portrait of your Johnson”? Are you afraid I won’t recognise it in person? Are you running for Parliament?

 

Now, I’m not talking about the online exhibitionists who get their jollies exposing themselves, hoping for a shocked reaction. I’m talking about guys who are actually trying to score with us.

 

After musing on it a bit, I’ve come up with the only plausible explanation for this odd behaviour: You think it turns us on because it turns YOU on.

 

Please guys, use your brain. The other one. WOMEN ARE NOT MEN. We know you dudes would love nothing more than to receive copious photos of our beautiful lady junk. You like porn. We get it.

 

But let me make one thing clear: seeing a digitised image of your dork does about as much for me sexually as watching my neighbour's cat vomit and then eat it.

 

There is no circumstance in which I need to see a photograph of your wang. Not even if we’re just fuck buddies. Not even if it has won some sort of penis pageant. Not even if it bears an uncanny resemblance to Meryl Streep. I don’t need to see if it’s big enough or pretty enough or circumcised enough – I’d honestly rather wait for the unveiling in person. In fact, I kind of like the suspense.

 

Let’s say I meet a guy on Tinder and he texts me a visage of his one-eyed wonder worm. Here’s what will happen: First, I exclaim, “Ew.” Second, I consult my friends immediately and we analyse the shit out of it. This is what our conversation might sound like:

 

Me: Sweet Jesus. This guy just sent me a picture of his dong. Look!

 

Girlfriend: Whoa. What a weirdo. Why would he do that?

 

Me: Shit if I know.

 

Girlfriend: Did you send a boob pic? Did you ASK for it?

 

Me: No and HELL, no.

 

Girlfriend: Ewww, look at it, it’s all veiny. And the head is, like, freakishly bigger than the shaft.

 

Me: Ha! That’s so bizarre! And he didn’t even bother to manscape. It’s like his weiner has an afro.

 

Girlfriend: And check out the shag carpet in his bedroom. That’s just bad taste. Wait a second, what is THAT?

 

Me: What is what?

 

Girlfriend: That little dot right there.

 

Me: Oh, yeah… Maybe it’s something on my screen. [Wipes screen.] Nope, still there. Perhaps a freckle?

 

Girlfriend: Perhaps a genital wart?

 

Me: Omigod. You think?

 

Girlfriend: You never know. I saw some wart pics online that looked like cauliflower. Do you want cauliflower growing out of your junk? Girl, you need to lose this dude. He’s obviously a major perv who may or may not have genital warts.

 

Me: Agree. Delete. Wait… let’s show Sharon and Heather and Jamie first.

Incidentally, a conversation with my gay bf would go something like this:

 

Me: Sweet Jesus. This guy just sent me a picture of his dong. Look!

 

Gay bf: Seriously? Could you forward it to me?

 

Is this what you want, fellas? To be the subject of ridicule amongst our girlfriends or the subject of masturbation amongst our gay bfs? I thought not.

 

Trust me, we’re not nearly as obsessed with your manhood as you are. I mean, sure, we love it when we’re in the throes of passion and think of it fondly if it’s given us pleasure in the past. But I don’t need a picture of it. Ever. And if the two of us have not yet met or are just beginning to date, an Instagrammed version of it will not make me want to instantly bang your brains out. This I promise.

 

So for the love of God, put your camera down and your penis away. And please, tell your friends. Make this go viral. Spread the word, my darlings, spread it like genital warts.

 

Love,

Women

Should you be friends with your ex?

Unfortunately, our exes don’t disappear from the earth after a breakup. They keep existing, seemingly for the sole purpose of appearing when you’re horribly hungover, buying Advil and coconut water in your sweatpants, and then—boom,there they are, still alive. I’ve never understood those couples who stay friends after a breakup. It just seems impossible to form something truly platonic with a person who I’ve had feelings for, who knows exactly how to make me cum, and who’s seen me smell my underwear to check if they’re clean. They know some vulnerable parts of my personality. Those aren't things that friends should know or want to know - it doesn't work that way. There's a big difference between trading juicy secrets and actually doing them. 

Many claim that being friends with your ex is the “mature” thing to do, but I always feel like those people are confusing maturity with masochism. But if you do choose to keep your ex in your life, it’s important that the friendship is genuine, without ulterior motives.

Now, there’s a difference between being friends and being friendly. Friends means we watch Netflix at your apartment and I complain to you about my new relationship. Friendly means that if we pass on the street, I’ll smile and say hi, rather than try to fashion a weapon out of the objects in my handbag. Generally speaking, friendly is a good option, for the sake of social harmony. You don’t want to be one of those people who can’t be in the same room as your ex, and causes a major scene if ever it happens. That’s annoying for your friends, and makes you look like an adultbaby. (Hence where that whole “maturity” thing comes into play.) And even though it would be convenient if we could ask our friends to “choose sides,” that’s unfortunately not really acceptable after the age of 21.

I am not an exemplary case, in that I’m not on speaking terms with any of my serious, long-term exes. Cheating and jealousy spoiled my first relationship, and the ex after that resents me (I might have blogged about the problems in our sex life without his permission one too many times). With my most recent long-term relationship, our breakup involved so many nasty fights that it would be ridiculous to try to rebuild after all the horrible things we said to one another. Despite this, we stupidly made a brief attempt at friendship. Not surprisingly, literally every hangout resulted in a fight, me crying, or us having sex. Old habits are hard to break.

Tellingly, how a relationship ends has an effect on what happens afterward. If it ended badly—cheating, disrespect, trauma, etcetera—then attempting to form a subsequent friendship can be difficult, or worse, unhealthy. However, if your relationship just naturally runs its course and then ends mutually (which, let’s be honest, is not the way most relationships end), then a post-breakup friendship seems more feasible. Personally, I believe the only way to truly be friends with a serious ex is if you had already entered the friendzone before the breakup. Because when you end a relationship that’s still sexually charged, or that one person isn’t ready to give up, it’s impossible to hang out afterward without wanting to fuck, marry, or kill each other. But it’s not just about the sex. Being in a relationship is about so many other things—it’s about family, support, codependency, and being intimate in a way that transcends the sexual—and that’s what makes it hard to transition into friendship.

For a lot of people, breakups are about winning. That’s not necessarily a bad thing—some healthy competition with your exes is natural, right? I’m not saying I want my exes to suffer a major tragedy, but I definitely want them to be far less happy and successful than I am. Duh. But you have to keep it classy. Clearly, it’s always good news when your ex gets fat, but enjoy this hardship privately, with a celebratory glass of wine in the bath, rather than making a big deal about it in front of your mutual friends. Constantly talking about how your ex’s new girlfriend is a budget version of you just makes you seem like you’re still emotionally invested in his life, when really you should be too over it to know or care who he’s dating.

In my experience, when exes stay friends, there’s usually another dynamic at play. For example, one partner secretly hopes to get back together, or is feigning closeness to keep dibs on the other. Or you agree to spend time with your ex out of pity, because they still like you, and the attention feels good. Or, you could be using the facade of friendship simply to hurt the other person—e.g. making them jealous by rubbing new romances in their face. (We’ve all been to that awkward holiday party with an ex-couple—“Isn’t it great we’ve stayed friends!”—where one ex is so obviously enjoying parading around their new partner while the other silently dies inside by the hors d’oeuvres.) And lastly, a classic case, is the type who keep their exes around as a backup plan, in case no one better comes along. Not only is this unfair to your ex, but this dynamic is probably holding you back as well.

You might not realise it, but keeping your ex around “as a friend” after a breakup can keep you from moving on. You think you’re being morally superior, when actually your ex is sucking up so much of your emotional bandwidth that you have zero energy left for Tinder.

Moving on is hard, and the impulse to keep your ex in your life can be really strong—we all get it. And yeah, maybe you can have your ex back in your life in some capacity down the line, but you first need to give yourself a window to move on physically and emotionally. It’s not weak or dramatic to stop following your ex on social media—it’s strategic. If you don’t, you’ll just end up staring at your phone all day, waiting to find clues in each new Instagram they post. You might have to sacrifice some parties, restaurants, movie theatres, and even countries to avoid running into them for a while. But if you do end up in a place where you might run into your ex, be sure to look casually fabulous.

The Trouble With Hookup Culture

When I tell people that I’m doing the whole casual hookup thing, I’m always met with a blend of shock and awe. They tell me how modern I am, how great it is that I’m so comfortable with myself that I don’t need a commitment, and that I’m brave for not being afraid of such a harshly judged lifestyle.

To some extent, they’re right. I am focusing on myself. I am pursuing my sexuality unabashedly. And I’m not afraid of what people may say. But what they don’t realise is that I’m exhausted and it took me a long time to learn to be this way and sometimes I wonder if I haven’t permanently ruined myself. I’ve learned more about men and human connection in these past two years of hooking up than I learned from any long term relationship prior, and I don’t like what I’m learning.

It’s great to do things for yourself; to pursue the things that you want for you and you alone without having to compromise with someone else. It’s good to have a healthy approach to sex. What’s not good is the realisation that you live behind a shell labeled “hardass” because that’s the only way you can survive.

The first time I had a one-night stand, it felt so strange. I wanted more, I felt like I was entitled to a connection, even though I knew I wasn’t. I was hurt that the man in question didn’t call me and ask for some commitment, even though I knew that I didn’t want a boyfriend. I was asking for someone to care about me, even when I didn’t care about them and knew I had no right to ask that of them.

You learn to harden yourself against expectations because happiness is reality minus expectations. You learn how to be both brutally honest and carefully guarded. I say things to my hookups that I would never say to anyone else, precisely because we have a limited window of togetherness and I have a small amount of time to establish myself as strong and independent. But I never care too much or ask too many questions or let them know how content I really am, because that makes me clingy and crazy.

You learn early on how to tell when someone doesn’t give a shit about you and, nine times out of ten, a hookup doesn’t give a shit about you. Even when he spends his weekends in your bed and kisses your forehead and laughs with you as you talk in the darkness, he doesn’t really care. What you mean to each other only goes as far as the door to your apartment. The trouble with hookup culture is that it is, at the same time, empowering and crippling. The very same moments that make you feel strong and content are the ones that leave you hollow and haunted.

And I’m so tired.

I’m tired of giving to someone who is only going to disappear and I’m tired of taking from someone while being fully aware that they are replaceable. No one thinks they are replaceable. I’m tired of being more armour and hard logic and cynicism than I am heart. I’m tired of my friends telling me that I love like a man when I am at my very core all woman. I’m tired of doubting whether or not I’ll ever be able to love again.

35 Things I Learned This Year

1. You never have to settle. Not in a relationship, not in a job, not ever.
2. Love your haters. They just want food, cuddles, attention and exercise. They're basically a puppy. 
3. Some people are kept in your phone just so you know not to answer when they call.
4. Never eat a party brownie ever again. 
5. Bad decisions make good stories.
6. When you get harassed and bullied by TSA officers in LA, remember two words: AUSTRALIAN EMBASSY. 
7. Don't sit too much. It kills you. Move, dance, run, play. 
8. The things that you hate about your body are oftentimes what other people find attractive. Embrace your flaws. 
9. If you think something is cute, fucking wear it. Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks. You’ll look great, I promise. 
10. Sex stores are fun, even if you just want a good laugh.
11. Some days are better than others. 
12. Forgive. No one wants to be bitter. It's bad for your soul. And it's bad for your sexy.
13. Know when to walk away. Holding on will only cause you more pain. Don’t exhaust yourself when there are people out there who would readily appreciate and love you—every part of you.
14. If you have to, make the first move. It’s scary, but someone has to do it. 
15. Men come and go. But your friends will always be there. Never ditch them for any guy unless of course he’s Channing Tatum or Trey Songz. They would be very bad friends if they didn’t understand. 
16. Nobody cares about you as much as they care about themselves.
17. People who feel the need to tell you that they have an excellent sense of humour are telling you that they have no sense of humour. 
18. No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it seriously. 
19. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe Daylight Saving Time. 
20. Arguments are pointless. You can’t change anyone so don’t try. 
21. You will make mistakes. So what?
22. It’s okay to be sad. But try not to forget about what makes you happy.
23. There is nothing wrong with you. 
24. Memories are priceless. Take plenty of pictures and videos of everything. That way, when you scroll through your camera roll, you’ll remember everything about that day -good or bad. 
25. Do what you love. Even if you don't get paid for it. 
26. Telling someone they’re wrong never leads to anything positive. Even if they’re wrong. 
27. A great massage, a great glass of wine, a great workout and great sex are a few of life's greatest treats. 
28. It’s OK if you don’t like something. Just don’t pretend that you do.
29. You should play on a swing set at least once every year. It is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.
30. If you can’t sing, sing anyway. Especially at karaoke. 
31. If you think something is a bad idea, it might mean you should do it. Or it might mean it’s actually a bad idea.
32. Do activities by yourself. Solo Social Activities (movies, dinner, concerts, travel) can be a lot of fun.
33. Low calorie does not mean healthy. Stop fooling yourself.
34. Stop texting or checking your phone when you’re with other people. It’s rude and it’s sad.
35. Everybody lies. Trust people anyway.

Is Being A Hopeless Romantic In A Hookup Culture A Special Kind of Hell?

“I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me … everyday,” is what Ryan Gosling’s character, Noah, said to Allie (Rachael McAdams) as he begged her to choose him instead of her fiancé in a pivotal scene in the riveting emotional fluffer, The Notebook.

Back in the good-ol’-days of drive-in movie dates, chocolate-covered strawberries with flowers and corny Hallmark cards that generically express the feelings of the emotionally stunted, this type of sappy profession of one’s inner soul was once an admirable quality of a potential lover.

Nowadays, these types of lines are as likely to win over a woman’s heart and panties as restraining orders are likely to gain friends.

Technological advancements, such as the automobile and movie theaters, brought young couples out of their parents’ homes and constant supervision, giving them more freedom and opportunity for sexy time. Never has seeing a woman’s elbows and ankles been so readily available.

With the loosening sexual morals and the advancement of feminism and birth control that accompanied the sexual revolution in the 1960s, sex became unhinged from nuptials and non-marital sex became more socially accepted.

Fast-paced modern society, combined with mobile technology and social media, has bourgeoned hookup culture and courtship has evolved from developing instant intimacy to an endless barrage of dick pics, creepy pickup lines and mind games.

However, this isn’t all bad, as the hookup culture has marked the beginning of a demise of outdated, religious, misogynistic sexual double standards, as women are more free to explore their sexuality with less judgment from sexually frustrated moral purists and creepy old priests who choose to share the love of Jesus with their subservient altar boys.

But is our collective Attention Deficit Disorder turning into Affection Deficit Disorder?

A recent survey states that both men and women are deeply unhappy with hookup culture. Meaningless intercourse apparently led them to associate sexuality with “ambivalence, boredom, isolation and loneliness,” yet they reluctantly accept hooking up as an obligatory prerequisite of young adulthood.

Nevertheless, this blatantly jaded view presupposes young men and women are completely devoid of the ability to cultivate a relationship that grows from casual sex and that “traditional” courtship of admitting one’s desire during the heated passion of encountering love at first sight is actually attractive.

Essentially, texting and casual dialogue has transformed courting into a mental chess match, where every message, smooth line, date and reaction is strategically planned to elicit a certain kind of emotion in order to play mind games that stimulate subconscious arousal rather than express genuine emotions.

Next time you think about answering a text from that potential someone or want to plan a date with them; wait an hour, or a day, or a week, or a year, or even a decade to respond, so neediness isn’t displayed. Psychology shows that being random, spontaneous and opaque is the key to attraction.

The only way to show interest is through disinterest, so the other person’s disinterest turns into interest while your disinterest hides your interest and over time, hopefully, the initial interest doesn’t gradually fade into disinterest because showing interest creates disinterest. It makes sense because the only way to properly pursue someone is to manipulate their emotions.

We now live in a world that disregards cheesy romance lines and proliferates magical dating apps, like Tinder, which connect just as many private parts as hearts. Men and women continue to cycle through each other like a lifestyle hipster snob cycles through curated homeless person ensembles at Urban Outfitters every three months to seem trendy.

But is the hookup culture the scourge of the millennial generation or a natural progression of human intimacy?

As men and women drift through partners after countless 30-second jackhammer doggystyle sessions, there’s an opportunity to find that significant other as people are constantly being connected through technology and social events without the need for an idealized Hollywood portrayal of romance.

Lifestyles are constantly being challenged and diversified in the western civilisation. Traditional nuclear families have now expanded to cohabitation, gay and lesbian couples and single parents. There’s no reason that random, sloppy coitus can’t coexist with dating.

People look for different kinds of relationships at different points in their lives, so there’s really no right or wrong way to conduct one’s personal life.

In the midst of all this casual sex and questioning of traditional dating values, the main takeaways from the emerging hookup culture are the cliché expressions, “do what makes you happy” and “be yourself and people will love you for who you are.”

Men shouldn’t let the number of sexual conquests dictate their self-worth, while women shouldn’t allow sex to devalue them. As long as people know what they’re looking for in life and refuse to allow other people’s perceptions of them to influence their self-esteem, then maybe hookup horndogs and hopeless romantics can pursue their affectionate ambitions together in the modern dating world.

Life is simply a series of random events, and the universe will inevitably unfold as it was meant to.

Everyone will eventually find that special someone, whether it’s in the bed sheets or their beating hearts.

Or maybe you’ll just die cold, bitter and alone. I don’t know, I’m not Cupid

The Real Problem Between Sex, Love, And The ‘Almost’ Relationship

I both love and hate so many aspects that are such a huge part of this generation. For example, I love that technology makes it easier than ever for us to connect, but it also makes it harder than ever to make meaningful connections, particularly face to face. One gripe I have that seems to be such an integrated part of this generation is the problem of the “Almost Relationship.” Let me explain what I mean by this.

I’ve known some beautiful, intelligent, amazing women in my life, and many of them have been faced with this issue. Let’s see if this applies to you. You meet a guy, you’re intrigued by him. You like him a lot. He isn’t easy to deal with, but it seems worth it to you. Perhaps you have baggage or issues of your own that you’re wanting to work through while you’re with him, you helping him with his issues and vice versa. You spend a lot of time together, maybe he even introduces you to his friends, which you take to be a great sign. You text back and forth all the time, and he is affectionate with you, calling you endearing names. You get to the stage where you want to ask what this is, what you’re both doing with each other.

Is it a relationship? You don’t quite know the answer. You’ve had sex, been intimate, shared meals. Maybe you bring up the question to him, or maybe he brings it up himself. Either way, what he tells you is that he doesn’t want a relationship. This confuses you. Maybe you think, “But it was going so well!” and you wonder how he could come to this conclusion after all the time you’ve spent together. You also feel like you’re getting mixed signals. After all, if going out on dates, taking care of each other and having sex isn’t a relationship, then what is?

Maybe you’ll ask him at this point what he does want, and why he doesn’t want a relationship. Maybe he gives you answers, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you fight, you have misunderstandings. Maybe he tells you that you’re just friends, or friends with benefits, or that he’s so messed up that he couldn’t possibly have anything to offer anyone. You go through stages of being angry, then forgiving him. Then soothing him. Then trying to help him with his anxiety or his panic attacks, or his disconnect from his emotions, or help him get over his ex. You wonder to yourself, “If he doesn’t seem to be after other girls, why doesn’t he just admit he wants to be with me, or that we’re together?”

Because in his mind, you’re not. Because in his mind, he has all the power. Because in his mind, he’s getting something he wants, and he’s giving you something you want, even if you’re left unfulfilled. Because in his mind, what you are both doing with each other is “good enough” for now, particularly until he finds something else. Maybe his voice is sexy and drives you crazy when he leaves you voice mails at midnight, asking you to come over. Maybe he makes you laugh. There could be a thousand reasons why you continue to devote so much time to him, even though he says he doesn’t want a relationship, or tells you directly that he doesn’t want to be with you. Maybe you think you can change him, or change his mind.

I love that in this day and age women can be more free with their bodies sexually, admitting that they need a physical connection with someone, that they enjoy that type of intimacy. Unfortunately, I think this still leaves most women so much more vulnerable than men in this scenario and more likely to get attached after being intimate. We want to think sometimes that we can keep it casual, but how many times have you found yourself at an impasse trying to separate sex from love?

This is a huge downfall of the modern era. Women should be able to be as free as they like with their bodies, as long as they understand that sometimes they will grow attached, and have to be prepared for the possibility that the men they want to be with won’t want to be with them. If you are one of these women, just know that not everything is meant to work out or line up. Fall for the person who says, “Yes. I want you. I want to be with you” and is willing to prove it.