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Sex Stuff
Category

  • Not Playing the Game is the New Game

    How much do you censor yourself on a daily basis? Do you ever find yourself in situations where you want to say one thing, but instead say another in fear of how you will be perceived? How defined is your personality by the expectations of others? Do you feel like your true self has to be tamed or contained in order to protect your feelings and spare yourself from rejection?

    What would happen if everything you wanted to express, you actually did?

    As socialized humans most of us have it ingrained in us that we think before we share, and consider the emotional reaction of others when deciding how to behave. When people shun these rules, or challenge them, they are often out-casted. Yet what do you think are the cultural norms that serve us in our humanity, and what are the ones that keep us from it?

    The other day I was meeting a friend for lunch at the Green Grocer, and decided to do a bit of grocery shopping before hand. As I was loading up my bok choy and bone broth at the register, I suddenly had the feeling that I may have just shit my pants. As you can assume, this is an alarming sensation mixed with a fair amount of anxiety. At that exact moment my friend entered into the store, and started talking to me. Now, it’s kind of hard to be yourself when you’re questioning whether or not there is shit in your pants. So I did what any normal person would do… leaned over and said, “I may or may not have just shit my pants, and kind of need to investigate before I can be fully present.”

    Look… I get it that discussing sharding is not typically grocery line conversation. Yet at the same time, how frustrating is it to talk to someone who isn’t really paying attention and doing weird gestures with the bottom half of their body? Wouldn’t you rather know the truth of your company dealing with a potential bodily crisis rather than thinking you’re boring them as they stare off into the distance with an expression of deep questioning and angst?

    Lucky for me, there was no shit in my pants and I could continue with lunch unfazed by such an inconvenience. However this delightful experience did get me thinking about all the things that we hide from each other that actually might be important to know.

    Like most people, I exist in a quantum mass of contradiction. It’s not like I don’t care what people feel about me, because I do… I just don’t care what people think about me. Does this make sense? I think this comes from the two influences of my parents. My dad is like a social ambassador to the UN. He’s incredibly polite, he can talk to anyone, and he has the uncanny ability to charm even the vilest people. Where my mom will go into a store and ask the sales lady if the leggings she’s trying on is giving her a camel toe. THIS IS WHERE I COME FROM GUYS!

    I am a peacemaker. I care deeply about the emotional well being of others, but if within that context, you also happen to think I’m totally out of my mind, I’m okay with that. I feel like everyone has a mental illness they’re covering up, and the best thing we can do for each other is pull back the veil.

    Yet I also have to acknowledge that the way I deal with people has been fundamentally different from the way I’ve dealt with the opposite sex. When I was in high school my view of men was that all boys use girls. I decided that I was NOT going to be the sucker, or get used by some fucktard dude, and my solution was to cheat on EVERYONE I dated. I figured if I used guys the way they used girls, I wouldn’t feel used. So I always had multiple boyfriends, and lied to everyone. It all culminated when I was 18-years old and ran the Boston Marathon. When I got to the finish line I saw my boyfriend that went to my school, the boy I was cheating on with my boyfriend, another boy who I was having a long-term emotional affair with, my out of school boyfriend, and finally another boy I was leading on. So after running 26 miles and seeing these five boys do you know what I did? I KEPT RUNNING!!! I tried to run home… but everyone stopped me. And would you like to know the consequences of my actions? A LOT OF PEOPLE GOT HURT!

    But I least I didn’t get used right??

    The problem with modern romance is that the culture has become such where people are embarrassed for having feelings, and are ashamed for feeling love. The cool thing to do is show that you have no emotions, and how you’re just so damn cool about everything that whatever goes, and nothing matters, and who cares because Tinder.

    It’s as if the protecting our egos has become more important than sharing our hearts.

    No way I’m I gonna be the one admitting the fragility of ventricles. I’m gonna act like my aorta doesn’t need you because the humiliation of admitting that you got into my right atrium is too much to bare. You guys… I did really good in 8th grade biology can you tell?

    Men seem to think that all women want are relationships, so they act all frosty to show they aren’t ready for any serious commitment. Women know that men are paranoid about them wanting relationships, so they act all blasé to prove you’re not the kind or girl who’s desperate for commitment. Then it becomes this game of pretending like neither of you give a shit, when really, if you don’t give a shit about the person you’re fucking, chances are the sex is shit.

    You can’t enter into relationships feeling guarded, because if you do, you are avoiding the intimacy of who you both really are. There is so much fear around “what is this going to turn into,” or “am I going to get hurt by another person’s indifference,” that people so often self censor or become hyper-calculated.

    When I was in my 20’s I got bored of playing the game. So then my new strategy became to tell the guy I liked everything that’s wrong with me right in the beginning. I’d be like, “hey, I’m mostly lovely but I’m never wrong, I will emotionally eviscerate you in an argument and point out every flaw you’ve ever had, and I will totally lie to you to avoid conflict or get what I want.” EASY RIGHT!

    Technically that’s not how the game is played, but I would argue that NOT playing the game is the new game! How refreshing is radical honesty in this photo-shopped auto-tuned world? How sexy is vulnerability when everyone is treating each other like robots from West World? We are not disposable, and we shouldn’t treat each other as such just because you can swipe right again tomorrow.

    Much like how my friend probably didn’t think she wanted to know about my potentially poopy pants, it was BETTER for her that she did because then she didn’t take my feces inspired pre-occupation personally. The more open we are about what we are dealing with emotionally, the better friends we can be to each other.

    Me at 13 plotting the destruction of the future boys in my life…

    February 22, 2017 • emotions, Musings, Old School Stories, Pee & Poop, Sex Stuff • Views: 17

  • The Male Plight

    The other day I was at rehearsal for my belly dance company, and was working with a cane as a prop. As the other dancers and I were chatting and figuring out our positioning, I did what any normal adult woman would do with a cane – put it between my legs and pretended to have a penis. I then of course started to stroke it… because I’m a grown up.

    This obvious display of my maturity got me thinking about genitals in general. Looking at my cane wiener, I realized how vulnerable men must feel to have their cock and balls exposed to the world. The exterior positioning of the flopping male genitalia make men more susceptible to danger. They have to walk around with their most sensitive bits unprotected, flailing and bouncing about indiscriminately. Perhaps because of this anatomical liability, men often filter the majority of their negative emotions through a lens of aggression – as a preemptive strike to compensate. It doesn’t really matter what they are feeling – embarrassed, scared, hurt, ashamed, lost – the way they express those feelings often through a lens of anger. I believe that the reason we have nuclear war is because men have to protect their dicks.

    Women don’t have the problem of our privates being public. We are all tucked in, like a suitcase. I think that’s why women are generally less violent. Yet we do have this gaping open wound that is constantly leaking, which is why women often express their emotions through tears. We cry when we’re sad, when we’re happy, when we’re lost. We cry because much like our weeping vaginas, it’s hard to hold in emotions when there is a giant HOLE IN YOUR BODY.

    Then of course we have the pageantry of our periods to contend with. We can’t just wear a long skirt and allow our menses to flow freely. Nooooo. It would be frowned upon to walk around leaving behind you a red trail like a communist snail. Society wouldn’t allow that. We live in a democracy after all.

    As a woman it’s easy for me to identify with the hardships of the feminine experience. As I just did so lovingly for you. Yet it’s also crucial for me to concern myself with the male plight. If I don’t show empathy for the opposite gender, then I can’t expect it in return. In this current Post-Trump paradigm there is so much to divide us as our ideologies and dogmas cloud potential connection. In order to counteract this intentional ploy of the ruling lizard elite to tear communities apart so we are easier to control, I must put myself in the head of a man…’s penis.

    I think one of the hardest parts about being a man in the modern world is having to constantly abide by the creepy rules, even when you’re not creepy. Imagine being a dad with a daughter, and your little girl wants you to play with her and her little friend. Picture these two sweet cherubs innocently requesting, “Tickle us daddy! Chase us around and tickle us!!” As a man you can’t go around tickling other people’s kids! The police would be at your door in minutes. Even when you’re not a sex offender, there is so much that men have to do to ensure that they are not seen as one. It must be hard to have to force yourself to question, “Is my being affectionate going to be seen as being a creepy uncle” all the time. Yet at the same time, the creepy uncle is REAL! We all have one!!!

    There is a burden men carry around because of all the deplorable acts other men have committed. Women are socialized to mistrust men, and first assume they are a threat until proven otherwise. Women are guarded as a means to defend ourselves against potential danger, but the sad truth is that there are many men that we don’t have to protect ourselves from. I am sure it must be really painful to be assumed to be a raper or molester when you are a man who has no interest in raping or molesting.

    So what is the solution to this dilemma? For safety reasons it would be absurd to teach young girls not to be cautious, but the energy of being deemed dangerous when you’re not is psychologically brutal. Women genuinely fear men because of the awful behaviors of men, and as a consequence men react to this rejection with misogyny and sexism. This cultural mistrust between the genders is a feeding ground for division. The more we are steered away from intimacy and towards skepticism, the more fragmented we are, and the easier we are to manipulate.

    My suggestion is much like we need resumes and letters of recommendation for jobs; we also need them for our men. That way you can have men vetted by other women, and not have to live in a constant state of skepticism. For example, when you go on a first date with a guy, you can read his letter of recommendation from his last girlfriend before you drink the cocktail he just bought you. “Brad is really sweet and giving in the bedroom, but he doesn’t unload the dishwasher and leaves his socks on the living room floor.” Huh… looks like Brad is kind of a slob, but isn’t going to put roofies in my drink! Or “Jason will buy you diamonds and take you out to dinner, but he takes selflies in the mirror and will cheat on you.” No way… I can’t live with the mirror selfies Jason! You guys… there is SOOO much potential to heal the gender divide!

  • Let’s Get Real Intimate about Intimacy

    The other day I was in the shower debating whether or not to shave my legs, and then remembering… Who cares? No one eats out my legs! I was listening to music, and the song” Elenor Rigby” by the Beatles came on my Pandora radio station. After it was done, my brain immediately started singing, “When I wake up early in the morning…” because “I’m Only Sleeping” is the next song on the Revolver album. Then it dawned on me… HOLY SHIT I AM THE LAST GENERATION OF HUMANS TO HAVE LISTENED TO ENTIRE RECORDS!

    I grew up in the 80’s, and sit right on the cusp of Gen X’ers and the Millennials. I may be one of the fastest texters this side of the Mississippi, but I also had a Walkman and know what the fuck a fax machine is. I have a relationship to technology that is of course foreign to my grandparent’s generation, but my connection to machines and the services they provide was very intimate.

    When I was growing up we didn’t have the access to variety that there is today. There was still an element of sacredness to technology and the media it provided. Entertainment was something I had to patient for. I had to wait until Saturday morning to watch cartoons – then hold my pee until a commercial came on so I didn’t miss a second of “He-Man.” If I liked a movie, I watched it again, and again, and again, and again because it was all I had – a VHS cassette. I didn’t have streaming or downloading. I saw “Annie” over 60 times, “Wayne’s World” well over a hundred, and I could recite “Dumb and Dumber” and “Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure” word for word right now!

    When I got a tape – like Billy Joel, Paul Abdul, Public Enemy, The Police, Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson – I would listen to it thousands of times. I knew the lyrics to every song, which song came next, and what songs were on which side of the tape. The music and movies I loved implanted into my soul. To this day I quote “Zoolander” at least 8 times a week. The cultural references I share with those of my generation runs profoundly deep. There are so many inside jokes we have because most of us were so limited in what media we had contact with. We all saw “Dazed and Confused” at least 10 times, and will say “Alright, alright,” to perfectly express ourselves in a moment. We didn’t just consume media; we embedded it into our psyches and personalities.

    Our attention spans were more focused because we had less to pay attention to. I had access to similar distractions we battle with today, but it was less distracting because I had less variety. I was forced to be focused within my escapism. I played computer games, but I had two to choose from. You bet your sweet ass I killed at “Frogger,” because I spent 10,000 hours playing it. I still know what every single level looks like in “Super Mario Brothers.” If I could have built my career around saving a Princess by jumping on the head’s of turtles, I would be a goddamn millionaire.

    Yet now, with our immense and immediate access to media, it passes through us like dysentery. Nobody listens to entire records or obsessively watches the same film over and over. There are too many options. We live in a disposable culture where nothing is meant to last. We swipe through humans like we do videos to watch.

    Our relationship to technology doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It is a direct reflection of our psychology. In the 50’s we had the expectation of our appliances to last for decades – much like our marriages, and our careers. Now in modern times we expect all of those to break down. It’s no more shocking to replace your dishwasher than it is to trade in your husband. There are no more lifetime guarantees and we don’t even really care anymore.

    The manifestation of what technology has turned into is in direct relationship to how we view each other. We are so over stimulated that actual stimulation feels boring. The result is a rampant lack of intimacy that is spreading through society. We feel connected through our social media, but we are physically connecting less and less. We hang out less, have dinner together less, leave our houses less, and look for sex less.

    Millenials are having less sex than any generation in the past 60 years!!!! I know!! We all thought they were fucking their way through their hook up culture but no! They are in front their screens because their virtual world is safer, more predictable, and easier to control than the real one.

    There is no turning back from what we have created, and we know this. The momentum is propelling us forward at lightening speed, and there aren’t enough scientists to study the impact all this will all have on our brains and psyches until the damage is done. We don’t know what we are evolving into, but it’s happening rapidly.

    So why does intimacy matter when we can Skype across the world and connect on those terms? What does sharing physical space provide when we can transcend space and time through our keyboards? Why fuck when we can watch other people do it and spare ourselves the emotional and actual mess?

    BECAUSE IT DOES MATTER!!!

    When we let go of our intimate connections to each other we are easier to control. When you see more people on screens than you do in real life – then what differentiates them from the characters of fiction? They become vague representations of people, so why care about them? If we had to look Syrian refugees in the eyes we would be WAYYYY more prone to take them into our country and actually do something to help them. But a suffering face on a screen is more abstract, so essentially easier to ignore.

    The reason it matters that people are having less sex is because sexually frustrated humans don’t think straight!! Why do you think religion is always trying to control sexuality? The religions with the MOST restrictions around sex are the ones that are also the MOST prone to war. Men who are not getting laid excess testosterone running through their veins so they’re easier to manipulate into violence. Keeping us away from sex doesn’t make us more loving – it makes us more volatile.

    When people honor intimacy and sexuality they are more likely to value humanity as a whole. When you are touching, biting, and kissing another human on the regular, than you are reminding yourself that people matter more than material objects. BLACK LIVES MATTER YOU GUYS and if you were having more intimate connected sex you wouldn’t even question that!

    Sexuality in our current culture is being broken open, examined, and redefined. We have a major opportunity here to awaken a new understanding, but we have to do so with intentionality and care. Systems are raping the earth much like the rampant raping women, and its all a symptom of a similar lack of respect. Rape culture isn’t about sex, but more about power and the dehumanizing of women. If we took a step back and looked at society, our lack of intimacy with everything is at the core of so many of our issues.

    We are facing political, social, and environmental crisis… these are scary times, but withdrawing from humanity isn’t going to save us. Diving in will. We need to get dirty together, and be dirty with each other. We have to remember that human connections are not simple algorithms and even though they leave you vulnerable, they can’t be replaced with microchips. I don’t want to live in a transhumanist nightmare, and they only way to avoid that is by prioritizing intimate connections in every facet of our lives.

    bc3

    October 12, 2016 • Current Events, Health, Musings, Sex Stuff • Views: 1353

  • Dear Toni: The Porn Addiction Edition

    YOU GUYS!!

    A personal dream of mine has come true. I received a message from someone who reads THIS VERY BLOG, and in it she wrote, “it’s not a new idea but one I know you’d absolutely tackle with candor and flair and humor– would you consider writing a post a la Dear Abby? Only modern. For example, I personally would love to read your response to a letter complaining about the man I most recently dated– certainly fraught with general issues around intimacy and commitment, coupled with a glaringly obvious addiction to porn that came to light when he could only cum on my face.”

    ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING KIDDING ME!!!

    What a great honor to be asked this!! And with a topic as potent as “cum on the face” – I could NOT RESIST!!!

    So here we go my loves… my very first (and I HOPE NOT THE LAST) edition of “Dear Toni.”

    Dear Toni,

    I just ended a non-relationship with a man in his mid-40’s (I am in my 30’s). “Relationship” as in texting nonstop, fucking exclusively and spending two or three nights a week together for about a year. “Non” because neither of us would call it a relationship. I never introduced him to my friends or family. He wouldn’t spend the night unless he was too drunk to ride his bike or walk. When he did sleep over, he’d bolt at 5 or 6 am.

    He is the most blunt and insensitive individual I’ve ever known. At first we (my friends and shrink and I) thought he might have Asperger’s. There’s just the oddest lack of empathy and inability to perceive why people are put off by him. He’s also kind of a recluse (though very social when he wants to be) and fixated on routines. He could never commit to anything in advance unless it was a careful addition to his pre-arranged schedule.

    Nevertheless, I continued to hang out with him because when I wasn’t hurt or upset or feeling rejected, I enjoyed his company. Smart guy. Very funny. We have a few similar interests. I am a sucker for a tall, athletic man. And every so often he’d throw me a bone. Tell me I was sexy and pretty. That I inspired him to do great things. I believe the word “muse” was used. Barf.

    When he and I first started “hanging out,” we would maybe make out a little. Then he’d run for the hills. I wondered if he was gay, or secretly married. Because he seemed uninterested in my sexually I obviously became convinced that I was hideous, undesirable and unfuckable. But I kept hanging out with him, always waiting for him to make the first move out of fear of rejection.

    Finally, after a few weeks of this, I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. That’s when he confided in me that he’d not had a real relationship in a decade and hadn’t had sex in several years – just bitch-slapping me with massive red flags, but I willfully ignored them.

    We finally had sex, and it came out that he’d felt shame about sex since he was little. His mom told his dick would fall off if he did it out of wedlock or some shit. He also had trouble getting and staying hard. But it improved with time, and he said that I “made him interested in sex for the first time in years.”

    Then I realized that he could only get off by basically jerking himself off. Sure, we’d fuck. I’d blow him. He would boss me around like a porn costar (which oddly I didn’t mind…not in bed). Sometimes it was fun for me. He got me off (but I’m easy and always super horny) often. But he never came inside me (no birth control or STD concerns- he had the green light). No. Instead, he had to pull out and rub his dick on my tongue until he came on my face. Sometimes this would take hours. In a sensitive way, I inquired about this. He said cumming inside me was over stimulating. Okay… The thing is, I have TMD. Aside from the boredom after doing this 3 or 4 times, it hurt. I offered other suggestions, like just let me blow you (“no, also over stimulating”). Cum on my tits (“not big enough to titty fuck”).

    For months, we hung out and “had sex” a couple times a week. Isn’t any consensual sex with a human better than none? Plus, things did shift a bit. He started talking about “us” and the future. Nothing major but it was something. He also asked me to watch porn with him and we had anal sex. The porn was awkward because he was awkward about it but man, he sure did like the ass (I did too). That time he came on my back. No ass to mouth up in here. Followed by the talk and the fight. Other than a couple angry emails, radio silence since.

    But watching the porn with him tipped me off into thinking he maybe also had a porn addiction. Clues: He did and said things that seemed scripted. He could only cum if I was kneeled down in front of him. And then there was his general inability to be truly intimate (forget foreplay). I don’t know…. Porn seemed to have a very deep-rooted influence on his psyche because I don’t think he could orgasm any other way.

    I miss a few things about him. Yeah he was an asshole sometimes, but I did come to value him in that way. He also enjoyed cuddling. Granted it was time limited and he wouldn’t sleep-cuddle. But he cuddled. And… the cum. On my face. All that cum. My skin was fucking flawless. So I guess I miss his cum.

    I’m a smart woman. I’ve had maybe a slightly higher than average number of sexual partners over the years. I’ve encountered some weird shit. Like the guy who had to cross himself and say a Hail Mary before he came (not on my face). Or the one with a micro cock and such a thick Irish accent that the only word I could make out was “Guinness,” who wanted to take me back to Belfast so I could meet his entire clan before we wed (we screwed one time, one drunken time).

    But this? This non-relationship with this man? What the fuck happened here?

    My friends chalk it up to him being batshit cray-cray. I cannot talk to my shrink about cum on my face. I don’t know what to do. I’m sick of thinking about him. I feel like there’s something horribly wrong with me. Any advice?

    My Dear Sweet Beautiful Face-plate For Cum,

    First of all, there is NOTHING horribly wrong with you, so let’s get that out of the way first. Second of all, HOLY SHIT there is a lot going on here. And 3rd of all I think we just came up with a billion dollar skin care product that we can market and sell to the masses. It will be called “Spermology.”

    Lust is one of the most complex forces in the universe. So many unexplainable things turns people on – like there is someone out there who would want you to shit on their chest while wearing your grandmother’s panties as a mask. Understanding what drives our sex is almost impossible. Sex is the propelling force of all life, and it is more powerful than our human consciousness can comprehend. This is exactly why porn is so powerful and dangerous. It taps into the most primal and mysterious parts of ourselves, and manipulates our imagination by making us think that it’s all possible.

    Porn takes fantasy and makes it reality. It’s one thing to envision a scenario where you and a buddy fuck the same girl, at the same time, in her butt – but two dicks in one ass is probably not okay for most women on planet earth. I saw that happening in a porn once, and it was my personal 9/11. I will never forget.

    We are living in a culture where anything we can dream, we can see. Sadly there are people out there that for the right price, or because of desperation, will enact the most brutal scenes of sexuality. Even if the porn that you are watching is more benign than say, shoving a midget in a girl’s twat and then having her then give birth to it, the impact of porn on the human psychology is undeniable. Your non-relationship has seen enough women take enough shots to the face that he believes that all women should.

    I think in any situation we have to examine a person’s motives. It is not only looking at what they are doing, but why? Why does this man fear intimacy? Why is he so particular? Why does he run away when you try to get close?

    You mentioned that impact that his mother had on his sexuality. This primal wound and shame around sex sounds awful. I can have empathy for the fact that he is coming from a place of pain, and this is how he has learned to cope with it. He turned to porn as a way of self medicating and healing. His intentions aren’t the problem, but rather his strategy. There are other ways for him to reconcile how his mother corrupted his feelings towards sex, and if he were interested in investigating them I would have more hope for the non-relationship.

    When we date people in our 30’s and 40’s chances are there is going to be a lot of personal baggage to unpack. My problem with this man is that he seems really closed off in exploring his own personal evolution. You were expressing a need – that need being, “hey, it hurts my jaw when you rub your dick on my tongue forever… maybe lets find a solution for this?” and his response seemed to lack any curiosity for your experience.

    It’s one thing when someone is willing to own their issues, and work with you towards self-improvement. If he were to say “I’m struggling with my relationship to porn. It affects me deeply and I want to face this part of myself as I see if effects your pretty face. I understand that my approach to cumming doesn’t always work for you, and your enjoyment of our love-making is just as crucial as mine.” If he were acknowledging what was going on with you, then you could work together towards resolutions. But his current way of being leaves you blaming yourself for things that ultimately have nothing to do with you.

    Your issues with sex with this man is not about your orgasms (which you seem to have plenty of) but more that you are not on the same team, and honoring each other during the entire process. He seems so single-minded about his cum, and that is making him careless about your feelings.

    The main problem I am seeing is not that your non-relationship could only cum on your face, but more his inability to communicate with you, compromise, and consider your needs. These themes were showing up not only in the bedroom, but also in how he behaved towards you in general. The way he treated your face as a plate for his hot cum is a metaphor for how he thought of you – that you were there to serve him.

    I know it sucks to end a relationship, even if it’s a non. Of course you miss him, and because things ended with such uncertainty you are left wondering why? Yet I want to remind you that when you commit your energy to someone they don’t have to be perfect, but they at least have to be willing to grow. You seem like someone who self-reflects and you deserve a partner that does the same. It seems you didn’t trust him from the start because you never fully integrated him into your life. I would trust yourself – you did it for a reason.

    PS: Send me your letters to tonibologna.com@gmail.com if you want advice on your life!!!

    Porn button on keyboard with soft focus

    Porn button on keyboard with soft focus

    September 8, 2016 • Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 1831

  • The Only Advice You Will EVER Need

    Let me give you some advice. Don’t take people’s advice.

    And don’t give advice.

    My problem is that I can’t even take my own advice about not giving people advice. I’m an advice giver! I can’t help it! When someone talks to me about a problem they have, I want to save them from whatever’s tormenting them. I want to solve their crisis because the solution seems so obvious from my outsider’s perspective. Isn’t everyone else’s life so simple compared to our own? We are too clouded with subjectivity and confused emotions to see clearly most of the time – which is why we may think we want advice – but in truth we really only want to hear what we want to hear.

    Most of the time people have no interest in taking your advice, they just want to know you care about them enough to give it. There sometimes may be the illusion that they are following your advice, but that’s usually because your advice happened to coincide with what they were going to do anyway. It’s more likely a coincidence that you thought they should do what they were already thinking of doing.

    I know all this, yet my compulsion to tell you what to do is stronger than my rationality of knowing you don’t want to know what I think. I get this from my mom, as she is the exact same way as me. Ironically every time I’m telling her about something that upsets me and she tries to give me advice… it SUPER annoys me!! Of course she’s just doing what I’m doing to everyone else, but really all I want her to do is listen to me. Yet when she is telling me her problems, all I want to do is give her advice!

    Recently I’ve started a personal habit of asking someone “do you want my advice?” when they are telling me something. At least that way they are welcome to say “not really,” and for us both to save the energy. Because when you give someone advice, isn’t it kind of insulting when they don’t do what you suggest? It’s like “why was I thinking so hard when you were going to just do what you were going to do anyway!? DO WHAT I SAY!!!!”

    I’ve also tried to notice how I feel when someone gives me advice that I don’t want to do. Do I not want to do what they are saying because they are wrong? Or because they are suggesting the RIGHT thing to do, but it’s also the harder choice, so I don’t want to do it. My practice is to force myself to follow the advice I don’t want to, because maybe they are seeing something I can’t? Maybe the advice I give my self is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing, even though the advice I give other people is exactly what they should be doing!?

    Even though advice is mostly useless, our culture is obsessed with giving it out. The problem is that there isn’t a lot of consciousness around what we do with it once we receive it. There is a whole industry around self-help: parenting advice, health advice, relationship advice, even some forms of therapy are basically just getting some therapist’s advice on how we should live our lives. In a way, it’s kind of a total waste. Most of us only truly change because of the results of our actions, not because of someone suggestions.

    Yet as I am saying all this, I am rendering myself totally insignificant! If people don’t need my advice then I will have no meaning in this world! Who would read my blog!? Who would care about me!? WAIT! Stop taking my advice about not taking my advice because I know you’re not going to anyway. Instead let me give you some advice about all the things you’d need advice about so you never have to take advice again! Unless it’s mine of course!

    Parenting advice: No matter what you do, you are going to fuck up your kid somehow. It can’t be avoided, so do what feels most right to you in the most conscious way possible, but get ready to cause some primal wounds and traumas. The only thing you can really do is preparing yourself to confront it at one point. Your kid will grow up and realize how their conditioning damaged them and if you can acknowledge their pain that you unintentionally caused, they may change your diapers when you need them to later.

    Relationship Advice: You are either going to be the object of worship, or the one doing the worshipping. Which one do you prefer? If you are being worshiped you will feel more secure but less lusty for your partner. If you are doing the worshipping you are going to feel more lusty but less secure. Pick your poison.

    Health Advice: Eat whole foods that don’t have chemicals. Cook everything you can for yourself. Move your body. Mediate. Get enough sleep. Be experimental. Investigate the emotional messages of your pains. Believe you can heal.

    Sex Advice: Don’t fake orgasms. Be honest about your desires. If you don’t like something, don’t pretend to.

    What you will learn in therapy: Your parents fucked you up and they are the root of all your problems. But they are just people who had fucked up parents who fucked them up – so be forgiving.

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    May 12, 2016 • Musings, Parenting, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 732

  • Why Men Fall Asleep After Sex

    Sex is the most ancient and essential building block of life. It’s as old as time. To assume that there are rational explanations for our sexual behavior is as absurd as claiming to understand dark matter. We just don’t. We can have theories, but there is always going to be a mysterious impulse that suggests you masturbate into your neighbor’s shoes while listening to your grandmother singing “Old Macdonald.”

    Considering the fact that there are people who actually enjoy being shit on – that is enough evidence for me to know that when it comes to our sexuality, there is a LOT that can’t be explained.

    Men and women also have very different relationships to sex. For example if I were to use the date rape drug roofies, it would be so a guy wouldn’t try and have sex with me. Instead, I would just prop up his body next to me and watch Netflix – maybe use his hands to do my dishes so mine don’t get all dry.

    Yet for men, rape used to be a reward for war! Sure you would risk your life to invade this village, but if you win, feel free to rape and pillage till your hearts content!!! Rape away soldiers – that’s your prize!

    When women are in relationships and their man is always trying to touch their boobs, they get annoyed. It’s agitating when you’re focusing on chopping vegetables for a salad and someone comes up from behind and cups your tits. I would say things like “this is my body, it’s not your property!” Or “how would you feel if I kept trying to grab your penis randomly when you’re trying to wash dishes?” And he would then answer, “yes, please. Do grab my penis.”

    It’s not that men like sex more than women, they just have a different relationship to it. Yet the idea that women enjoy sex is terrifying to society. In almost every instance when there has been a case of sexual misconduct, the woman gets blamed. Monica Lewinsky is still being shamed for blowing Bill Clinton, and Hillary still called a shrew for letting it happen. Personally I think Hillary is brilliant for outsourcing BJ’s, and what 20-year old intern wouldn’t let the president of the free world finger-blast you with a cigar? That’s the best hookup story of all time.

    Remember how Janet Jackson got all the blame for Justin Timberlake showing her breast at the super bowl? Or how about most of literature? The entire plot of the Crucible, or the Scarlet letter? There are countless stories of how the scandalous woman is the culprit of what was actually a two party sexcapade.

    The only woman that ever got away with a sex scandal was Mary. Somehow she was considered virgin after getting pregnant without sleeping with her husband, which is the ultimate coup. But we also have to remember that she was 14 ad married to a guy in his 40’s, which also explains a lot.

    There is so much missed messaging when it comes to women and sexuality that it’s impossible to keep up. Shakespeare’s originally quote from Hamlet was actually “to be a slut, not be a slut – that is the question.”

    There is a myth from ancient Greece that tries to uncover what gender enjoys sex more. So a god turned himself to both a man and a woman to experience it. Teirresias the prophet was watching two snakes coupling and had a premonition that women had much more explosive orgasms then men. He was then turned into a woman so he could see for him self, and prove his theory right.

    Despite all our conditioning and culture assumptions that suggest men are the more sexual creatures and women are passive recipients, there is a lot of evidence that proves otherwise. When we look at biology, I think I agree with Teirresias’ investigation. Men have one orgasm, where women can have many.

    So this all leads to my personal theory of why men fall asleep after sex. Once he’s passed out, then the woman can go look for another guy to fuck if she’s still in the mood, or wants some stellar sperm competition going on inside her. So back in the days of early man when Crog was too tired after his orgasm, Pog could mosey on over to the other side of the cave and get it on with Cronum. And that’s evolution guys… everybody wins.

    Get out of there girl!! There is another guy who is ready to rock!

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    April 21, 2016 • Musings, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 982

  • It Turns Out My Vagina is Not More Important Than Social Justice

    Do you ever have those moments where you are doing something mundane, like washing dishes, and suddenly a memory pops into your head that you hadn’t thought of in a long time? It’s almost like an assault of your unconscious. Your brain suddenly insisting, “Hey! You did this! Remember it!!!”

    That happened to me the other day when I was chatting with my friend Grace. We were having a perfectly average, everyday conversation about chakras. You know… one of those totally run-of-the-mill dialogues about your spirit body being fractured because of an esoteric violation in the cosmic stratosphere. We’ve ALL been there right? But then suddenly I had a memory of an event in my past that I had totally forgotten had ever taken place.

    Toni: I just had this crazy memory of when I was in the 8th grade. It was the night before the last day of school, and I was hanging out with my friends drinking and smoking pot. At some point everyone had to go home, I guess because we were 14 and it was a school night.

    Grace: These things happen.

    Toni: But for whatever reason, I didn’t go home. And neither did these two boys I was friends with. We all went to the Boston garden to keep drinking and smoking weed. It was a warm outside, so we ended up staying there the entire night! I think my mom was out of town, so my dad wouldn’t have really noticed if I had come home or not.

    Grace: Coming home can be remarkably unnoticeable.

    Toni: One of the guys was the dude I had lost my virginity to. I took his v-card too might I add. And the other dude was his best friend. So… I’m not quite sure how exactly I finagled this, but I remember distinctly that I would make out with one guy for a while, while the other one went for a walk or did whatever. Then when I got bored of that guy, I would leave to go find the other dude and make out with him for a while.

    Grace: That’s pretty gangster.

    Toni: Right? Especially for an 8th grader? I mean that is kind of sexually aggressive, and psychologically manipulative. I’m pretty sure they both assumed I was just making out with them, and had no idea what I was doing when I was gone.

    Grace: That is some pretty impressive slight of hand! You were like the David Blain of Making out!

    Toni: They were both pretty hot so I had to do something. But then the next day, things kind of went to shit. One of the dudes was dating my friend, and the other dude my other friend had a super crush on. The boys and I were all keeping our mouths shut about what happened, but I had these hickies all over my neck that everyone wanted an explanation for.

    Grace: You’re a WASP, didn’t you have turtleneck you could wear!?

    Toni: I know! My one friend thought it was her boyfriend that gave me the hickies, but I admitted nothing. Especially because I had a boyfriend too! When my boyfriend saw my neck, I told him that I had fallen in a bush.

    Grace: Hickies do look like bush scrapes…never.

    Toni: I panicked! I hadn’t noticed them because I never went home, and was still wearing the same clothes from the day before! We slept in the Boston Gardens and then went straight to school. In reality I should have just gone home. But we were going on a class trip to the amusement park, and I didn’t want to miss out on that – because I was still a child who liked roller coasters more than worrying about getting caught cheating!

    Grace: We all have our priorities.

    Toni: I was so tired that when my boyfriend confronted me, falling in a bush was the first thing that came to my mind. I fell in a bush! That’s what’s all over my neck! Bush! At first he believed me. Or maybe he just wanted to believe me. But whatever the case, he stopped asking questions. I had almost gotten away with it, but then I told one of my best friends what really happened. You know, because half the fun of making out with people is talking about it.

    Grace: Of course.

    Toni: But my best friend ended up telling my boyfriend!!! And when I asked her why she did that, she explained that she felt like she had too – that because they were both black, it was her racial duty to tell him what happened.

    Grace: So the racial solidarity superseded the girl code.

    Toni: Exactly! It wasn’t like she hadn’t kept secrets of mine before or after that. In fact she kept a lot of them. But this secret she couldn’t keep.

    Grace: Race vs. gender loyalty is tricky.

    Toni: It is! I think by the end of the day, the entire school knew about my sexcapade moment in the park. My friends were really pissed at me for my making out with their boyfriends, the dudes were upset I was making out with both of them, and my boyfriend was SUPER upset I cheated and lied to him. But I totally understood why my friend told on me. Even at that young age I knew that ultimately, my vagina wasn’t more important than social justice. And besides, at least I got to ride the roller coaster.

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    January 25, 2016 • Old School Stories, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 762

  • How To Win the Mind Fuck

    1) When they are trying to pick a fight with you, tell them “you’re boring me.” There is nothing quite as offending or demeaning than being told, “you’re boring.”

    2) When they insult you, or try to blame you for the dysfunction of the relationship, laugh. Laugh long and hard and then say, “you’re funny.”

    3) When they text you shitty things trying to get a rise out of you, respond only in non sequitur emojis. Like Chinese food, dragons, and a chicken poking his head out of a shell.

    4) Blow off relationship conversations completely, then change the topic and get really passionate talking about what you’re going to get your cousin for their birthday.

    5) Every so often, practice random radio silence. Don’t respond to anything for a few days. Then simply text a funny Youtube video – like of Snoop Dog narrating Planet Earth… WITH NO EXPLANATION!

    6) When having sex, comment about how their body isn’t how your remember it being.

    7) Have plans to hang out. Break those plans 3 hours before you’re supposed to meet with no explanation. Then 2 hours later, say you want to hang out after all, but bring some friends and pay most of your attention to them.

    8) Walk away from the relationship entirely.

    You many not get laid with these strategies, but you will win the mind fuck.

    See Kourtney Kardashian gets it…

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    January 20, 2016 • Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 1969

  • How To Know Which Dude To Breed With?

    Now that I’m in my 30’s – I am surrounded by women who are dealing with their fertility. I have friends that have no interest in procreating, some who are squatting out babies, and others that are squatting on men to try and make some. No matter what their choice, the 30’s are the time when it’s on our minds, and we ladies have to make a decision.

    To breed or not to breed. That is the question.

    If you don’t want to have kids, there is a beautiful freedom to that. There is no pressure to settle down, or find a guy you have to deal with. (Sorry that was my auto correct. I meant to say get to spend your life with because love is eternal). You can be more open to a relationship happening anytime anywhere because there isn’t that impending biological clock knocking you over the head to get knocked up.

    Yet when you want kids, (unless you are down to do it on your own), the current paradigm is so find some guy to go on the journey with you. Of course in an ideal world we could have babies, live in women’s communes, watch each other’s children, and take on lovers as we please. But unless you are ready to hang out with a chick named Chakra and whittle wood, people in intentional polyamorous communities are still pretty wacky.

    Since I lived in NYC for so long, there is large portion of my friends who are single, are into the idea of birthing children, yet don’t know whom they want to produce with. When you live in an urban environment, you tend to have a lot of options of potential DNA to blend with yours. There is that cute skater, the guy that works at the office across from yours, or the dude at the green juice bar that always adds EXTRA ginger for you. Awww shucks, you know how I need to clean out my system juice guy!

    Potential men to poke you are everywhere! Yet they are also nowhere because post-modern people really suck. Guys that text you at 1am asking “wassup,” or that care more about egos than they do about you. The world is filled with narcissists, douche bags, and greedy fucks. And if you happen to find a nice one, you probably think he’s too nice, making it too easy, and then don’t give him the time of day – humans are absurd!

    The other great question is who to make babies with?! How do you know who is the guy you want to hang around for the next 18 years? Of course there is the obvious. Is he a murderer? Has he ever worshipped the devil? Does he drink Diet Dr. Pepper? Yet assuming he is kind, self sufficient, and folds his own laundry, then how do you know if you found the one to give your ovaries to!?

    Here is my Toni Bologna checklist to help you make this pivotal decision.

    1) Do you like sleeping with him once a week?
    2) Do you like eating with him?
    3) Do you like watching TV with him?

    That’s pretty much it.

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    August 19, 2015 • Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 2163