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  • 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: 2917

  • Bitches and Beauty

    Recently Alicia Keys went to the VMA’s without any make up on. My reaction to this was as complex as – “that’s cool.” I posted an article on my FB wall and kept living my life. Yet now the “news” is talking about her “bare faced” look spurring a revolution! Ummm… really? A REVOLUTION?? Does that mean that I am now considered a guerilla warrior because I am too lazy to put on fucking foundation?

    I’m not wearing make up in the above picture, but does that make me brave??! UMMM not really because have you seen my abs?? I think it’s depressing that the world is shitting golden eggs because a painfully pretty woman dared get her picture taken looking painfully pretty without lipstick. SHOCKING!!!

    Pop News” is asking me if I will I join her #nomakeup movement. MOVEMENT?? It’s seriously such big deal that a chick goes outside without mascara that we are actually comparing it to a social movement?! Sure Keys is a celebrity and thus judged for her looks, but the way the media is reacting, you’d think that she was as bold as to tattoo “Politics Can Eat My Pussy” across her forehead.

    At this very moment I am sitting at my computer wearing tie-dyed “Hammer” pants… much like Joey Buttafuoco circa 1992. I haven’t washed my hair in a week, and when I did, I used body soap because why bother with a variety of substances that make bubbles? I have never in my life received the compliment “you smell amazing,” and I’m pretty sure the dirt under my fingernails has it’s own eco system.

    I could put a lot more effort into this package… Bitches are supposed to be beautiful, and when we are not, we are expected to feel bad about ourselves. Oh no, my skin isn’t as smooth as a baby’s scrotum, and I haven’t scorched my cootch with a blowtorch to remove all unwanted hair follicles. DO YOU STILL LIKE ME? Have you seen my abs??!

    Beauty, sex, and physical appeal are all part of the trademark of femininity. It is a constant conversation in society… more than Syria, Yemen, the Federal Reserve, and the ruling lizard Elite. The only thing we talk about more than women’s being beautiful are women NOT being beautiful. How dare you be unfuckable you whore!

    The problem with “beauty standards” is the consequential brand recognition of what is considered attractive. You see something enough times and it becomes engrained in your psyche. See this?? This is what you should buy into!! If you go to a grocery store to get detergent, most people will buy “Tide” because they’ve seen it before. It’s familiar, so it must be good right? Who cares that it’s a bottle of toxic chemicals? Same thing goes with beauty. These photo-shopped, over made up images are slammed down our gullets, and we deep throat that message without even gagging… unless you are retching to puke up dinner to be skinny enough by tomorrow. PS don’t forget to shoot some Botox into your lips and ass because those are the only parts of you allowed to be fat.

    Even industries that claim to be about acceptance and soul seeking are just as superficial. If I see one more skinny white chick in a yoga video wearing her underwear while doing a split – I will literally turn my labia inside out, use it as a cape, and fly to another planet like a goddamn super hero. Hey Yogis… you could be doing a lot better with your “being the change you want to see in the world.”

    I am so bored of this being such a huge issue in the collective consciousness of the female identity, yet at the same time, I WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL SO YOU WILL CARE ABOUT ME!

    Sometimes I try. I slap some make up on my face and run my fingers through my tangled mane, but then give up because I am pulling my hair. It’s too knotty! I will throw on a sexy outfit, stick my tits out, and strut around like a peacock with a feather up its ass. I am not saying it doesn’t feel good when people look at me like I am hot… yet at the same time, what the fuck? Why do I care?

    I care because I am conditioned to care. I care because it does matter what I look like, even though it doesn’t, because actually it does. For thousands of years, beauty has been part of female survival, and in many ways we are still making it so.

    For most of recorded history, women were commodities and property. In that paradigm, attractiveness added to the value of what we could be purchased for. Being beautiful was a strategy of success. There was hardly any chance for us to have power beyond what our husbands could provide. So in order for a woman to have any influence, she had to be part of the right family – all Game of Thrones style.

    There then comes this massive social shift where women start earning value with their minds. We start to intellectually compare with men, so now their competition for achievement has doubled. Smart women eat into the economic and political pool that was once dominated by men, and that is a threat to their livelihood within a capitalist model.

    But… if we make women use their psychic energy worrying about what they look like, and feeling insecure about their thigh canyons – that will chip into their life force… therefor making them distracted! I am pretty sure Stephen Hawking wasn’t freaking out about which wheelchair made him look chubby. Obsessing about beauty has become a prison of our own making.

    All humans are at their core artists. Everyone has creative energy – it just varies on how we choose to express it. Yet women are encouraged to put a vast majority of their creativity into their looks. This isn’t to say that sexy chicks aren’t bringing positivity into the world. It is nice to look at beautiful women. But at the same time, there are a variety of other outlets for you to pour that exertion into – like say, baking cookies.

    When I was a kid my mom told me I was beautiful every day of my life. You’d think that would make me vain, but it had the opposite effect. If made me feel like that was a meaningless statement. It made me stop caring. Yeah yeah yeah mom, sure I’m beautiful but did you know I could do a back flip? Could we talk about that shit?

    Because I have a daughter, I am extra concerned with her future relationship to beauty. I don’t want her to be defined by it, afraid of it, or confined by it. She is a pretty girl and there is no reason to pretend otherwise, but that doesn’t mean she needs to over think it’s meaning. The Munch should honor her natural beauty and see it as a gift, but it’s not more precious then her winning personality and genius mind… a brain that makes up songs like “a penis is an instrument that nobody wants to play.” WHICH IS A REAL GODDAMN SONG SHE WROTE!!!!

    This chick don’t give any fucks

    munch goggles bike

    August 31, 2016 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 6106

  • 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: 1277

  • 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: 1741

  • 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: 1386

  • 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: 2869

  • It turns out the Market is Over Saturated with Vagina!

    A writer for Vanity Fair, Nancy Jo Sales, did an expose on the dating lives of 20-somethings in NYC – looking into how “hook-up” culture has impacted their sexuality.

    According to this article, financial fuck wads who work at Wall Street are getting laid left and right. Because of Tinder/Hinge/ STD Transfer Ultimate App, guys like Alex can, “rack up 100 girls I’ve slept with in a year.” That’s a lot of condoms A-rod 😉 I hope you’ve diversified your portfolio and invested in Trojan!

    It today’s fast pace world, a sweet talker like Marty can sleep with at least 40 women over a fiscal year by this pretty impressive strategy. He simply, “sort of plays that I could be a boyfriend kind of guy, in order to win them over, but then they start wanting me to care more … and I just don’t.” BRILLIANT WORK MARTY!

    What I find most horrifying about this article is not that people in their 20’s want to get naked and bump crotches. Nor that Men think it’s “cool” to flip through women like a Golfer’s Digest at the dentist’s office. The problem isn’t that modern women are “too easy” and it’s effecting intimacy for all. NO! The alarming part of this story is who are these women that sleep with guys who work on Wall Street?!! Especially ones named Marty!?

    When I lived in NYC I was once at this fancy club where a Wall Street guy tried to hit on me. I started asking him about sub prime mortgages and if he ever invested in triple bottom line socially responsible businesses – and his dick got soft in front of my eyes. He RAN away from me, never to return.

    I guess talking to me is like the anti-Viagra for Wall Street men.

    But ladies, it is our civic responsibility to question the ethics of these guys and shame them for their business practices, not reward them with the pot of gold betwixt our thighs!

    If women want to sleep with 2,000 guys on Tinder then god bless them. Just not Wall Street guys! We can’t flood their market with our precious poonanies. NO!! We have keep them wrapped up tight and create a deficit. The pussy stock will rise if we generate scarcity.

    As long as these guys are boning chicks, they are going to keep living their lives thinking they are god’s gift, and continue making repulsive decisions about business. They will wake up feeling justified, and morally unambiguous that their profit models are destroying the planet. Let’s not waste our time slut shaming young women of the world, but redirecting their lady parts towards more deserving men!

    So my fellow females… sleep with as many guys as you want during the exploration of your sexual identity. Just not douchey finance dickheads! Have sex with that tortured artist, the dude with scraggily ponytail making your green juice, or the guy who started that solar company. Go give that nerd head who’s trying to find alternative fuel sources. Let him bust a nut on your tits!

    PLEASE… NOT THESE GUYS

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    August 10, 2015 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 2953

  • Is Your Vagina A Dictator of Love?

    Well it’s official. I think every one of my friends believes that I live inside a giant gaping vulva. The impression seems to be that my house is in fact the folds and billows of a massive pink vagina that I deliver myself out of every morning – covered in birth cheese. In truth, at this exact moment half my body is still inside my uterine abode, because it is just so warm and gooey in there!

    Otherwise how can it be explained that not one, not two, but four people sent me this article entitled “The Pussy Test: How to Tell If You Are With The Right Partner.”

    The author suggests that in order to tell if your relationship is truly working, you should be able to ask your partner to “sit comfortably between your legs and explore your pussy. I mean really look and touch you sweetly and slowly and take her or his time. Ask her or him to take a look around, spread your pussy open, slip her or his finger up and down and around. Not in just yet. Have her or him massage your outer lips and pull back the hood of your clit and admire you.”

    The author’s rational is that a woman’s lotus flower is an often under appreciated organ, and it should be revered as the magical blossom it is. She also suggests that if you do not feel able to ask your sexual partner to bask in the glory of your yoni, then you are probably with the wrong person.

    “If you don’t feel comfortable asking the person you’re with to do that, you have to question your relationship with your body and your sexuality. If that relationship is in question, if you’re not whole in that way, how can you be expecting to find a relationship with another human that’s whole?”

    Now here is my question. How can I intellectually agree with something so wholeheartedly, yet have ZERO interest in doing this in my life EVER…. with anyone.

    I feel my disinterest in this ritual has nothing to do with my feelings about my body, or the kind soul trying to penetrate it, but rather there are so many other things I would rather do with my time. Maybe my problem is that I know my body too well? I am pretty much a two pump chump… meaning it doesn’t’ take that much to get me off. So why not do something else with my afternoon like say, read about the prison industrial complex.

    Although I support this effort philosophically, I also am not convinced that it is the only barometer of love for the other, or the self. Feeling comfortable doesn’t mean you yearn to be probed like an alien abductee. Although the quest to glorify all things pussy related is a righteous one – I don’t think the kitty between your thighs is the exclusive decider of your ideal committed relationship. Maybe your perfect partner unloads the dishwasher and does their own laundry?

    Sexuality is complicated, fleeting, hypocritical, finicky, and temperamental – especially for women! We have our monthly moon cycles to contend with. There are a lot of things I would be down for when ovulating – but then a few days later all I want is to watch Netflix and eat brownie batter. That is just the way it is. There are ebbs and flows to desire, and a variety of factors that influence it. Not every person that you would want to gaze inside your love gorge is someone you want to hang out with at Home Depot.

    So by all means – engage in this ceremony if it speaks to you, but I would also suggest the Bed Bath and Beyond test.

    (Maybe this is all you want? Some modern romance!)

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    February 23, 2015 • Current Events, Health, Musings, Relationships, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 3126

  • It Turns Out Women Are Just as Perverted as Men!

    Life if full of contradictions. We need the sun for vitamin D, but too much sun can cause cancer. Sunscreen might help prevent skin cancer, but it also might cause cancer from all the fucked up chemicals in it. Nothing is exactly how it seems. The universe is a hazy shade of grey.

    Perhaps… 50 shades of it?

    Sorry… I had to go there.

    The media’s portrayal of female sexuality remains a great paradoxes. We are told we can sleep with guys, yet not too many guys, but as many guys as we want as long as we “lean in” while being a “Tiger Mom” who lost all our baby weight! I read a lot about women and their lady parts because you know… I have a vagina, and get my period, and gross!!!

    I recently came across this article on Jezebel, where the author tricked her boyfriend into seeing a German movie called “Wetlands.” If you know anything about German movies that involve sex, you know that shit is going to get weird real fast. The movie narrative (based off a book) uses flashbacks to tell the story, because the main character, Helen, is stuck in the hospital from cutting her ass open while shaving around her hemorrhoids. A common mistake! The Jezebel author describes Helen as “sexually empowered” and “knowing what she wants” – which involves rubbing her gaping genitals on a toilet seat covered in feces, shoving an avocado up her twatt, and my personal favorite “putting the shower head inside herself and filling her vagina with water until she feels like she’ll burst. Then she pushes until the entire thing feels like it’s going to fall out.”

    Now call me old fashioned, but seriously WTF????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    As a feminist I am supposed to clap my chubby little hands at all things women do to express their deepest desires. Yet I am pretty sure that if this story were about a man I would have just as many questions. Mainly, were you hugged enough as a kid?

    I am happy that women’s sexuality is being depicted as complex. This is progress. You wouldn’t have seen this film or read the novel in the fifties (although it would have made for a pretty epic “Leave it To Beaver” episode). Truth be told, this type of sexual behavior makes me want to hurl. Not because I am some prude who thinks they shouldn’t do it…. BUT HOLY HELL DOESN’T THAT HURT AND ISN’T THAT DANGEROUS??!!

    This is my question: when people’s sexual identities are so intense, doesn’t that border on obsession? Sex is cool and all and should be a priority, but it takes a lot of time to shove a variety of vegetables inside your body. Time that could be spent learning how to farm organically, or petitioning politicians to stop Fracking. Isn’t there a balance between getting freaky like how Helen “fingers her ass until her fingers are brown with butt sleaze,” and not having your sexual preferences take over your life? Is this really a depiction of what “sexual empowerment” looks like? It just seems to me that when people have such vastly extreme tastes, that maybe they are working out something that is much deeper that what can be achieved through aggressive masturbation.

    Sex is just as addictive as any drug, and just as powerful of a distraction from facing reality. Society is struggling with vast terrifying predicaments and like sex and pornography are a few of the key ways grown-ups check out from dealing emotionally with our lives.

    Of course this logic applies to TV, smoking pot, or watching sleepy cat videos on Youtube – soooo cute!!!!! We all run from the responsibility of figuring out how to revolt from the 1% Lizard-People elite who control the planet and will soon be using our blood to fuel for their rocket ship to Mars after this planet has been destroyed by their greed. Yet the more we spend our time jerking off, the more we are not participating positively to the collective effort to better the world for the future.

    I’m glad people are finally waking up to the fact that women can be just as perverted as men. That said, I don’t jump up and down every time I hear about a guy wanting to a martini glass full of a women’s shit; I also won’t be moved to hear about a chick eating a semen covered pizza. Perhaps if the dude was having his diarrhea cocktail while presenting his plan to end sex trafficking at the United Nations, or the woman was munching on her delicious treat up in a tree in the rainforest to protest the degeneration of our most precious source of oxygen, then I would want to know all about it!

    (I mean I guess wiping your menses on your face is a good idea?)

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    January 7, 2015 • Current Events, Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 8724