socks

I mean, he was alright. I suppose he could shed a pound or fifteen... maybe invest in some invisalign to fix that snaggle tooth... But somehow he pulled off his little smooth charade well enough to allow me to invite him up.


Que the dimming lights.


I'm exaggerating. He wasn't that bad looking. He had nice eyes. Green, I think. Maybe hazel... Good head of hair. Nice goatee thing happening - long enough to show he can grow it, not too long that I'd get a facial rash. He had a killer voice, too. I'm a sucker for voices.


When he called me to check what time we were meeting and if I needed a lift to El Cantinori's I instantly felt attracted to him. Deep, husky voice. Like a manly purr.


So here we were. At my apartment. On the couch. Giggles and all and things quickly heat up. From the couch, to the hall (note some knocked down picture frames) to the bedroom... he suddenly seemed irresistible.


My neighbour, Mrs. Chan, was away visiting a relative for the weekend (I know this because I have to water her ferns - note to self, must do that ASAP) and I knew me and my gentleman could go all out.


Sheets flying. Lamps falling off nightstands... the whole shibang. It was hot, sweaty, invigorating... everything a six-month-dry-spelled girl could ask for.


Immediately afterwards we laid there, on top of the only remaining material on my bed - the mattress cover. Hot. Very hot. Not just the sex. The room. I was laying there completely naked and sweating. Head to toe. As was h---


No. No he didn't. No, no, no, no.... The man who I thought was completely naked, like myself, was laying there like a breathless pig still in socks.


No shirt, no pants, no boxers, no jewellery. Yet wearing his white and grey, Nike swoosh sports socks in my bed. There's something incredibly wrong about this. I don't think one woman can truly put her finger on the particular reason why this is such a turn off but I do guarantee every woman is repulsed by it. Something about being too childish and... freakish. Dude, we're about to do the dirty... get those stinky sweat soakers off your feet like a real man!


I can look past a snaggle tooth and even a little gut... but if you dare wear socks while bedding up with me, the only thing you'll get worth receiving is a boot to match.

movie night

Last night I had sex with a guy on his piano. It wasn't as hot as I'd always imagined it'd be.

I mean, in Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere have tender yet sexy foreplay (and I always assumed sex) on the piano at the Radison. This scene always seemed so classy and hot to me. The real thing's not as such.

This guy named Jake had me over to his place after our fourth (maybe fifth?) date and his piano was the first thing that caught my eye... And not because I found it hot or interesting that he can play an instrument but the very first thought that entered my mind was sex.on.the.keys.

I used to have a piano in my dining room as a kid. It was wooden, out of tune and definitely had zero sex appeal.

Other pianos I've seen in my lifetime have always been in families' homes where I did not have free sexual access to them.

But here it was. A baby grand. Middle of his condo. Two glasses of wine close by. I attempted a sexy stroll over to the piano as he slowly lingered after me. I turned around and gently rested my ass on the keys. Unfortunately, I was at the left side of the piano and the keys made a shockingly deep and frighteningly dooming sound. The sound stopped abruptly as I quickly jumped off. Though the echo of the sound seemed to last forever.

Okay. I tried again. This time I was positioned myself much closer to the right side. The sound would probably be more delicate and feminine. It was. He started to kiss me all over my neck... shoulders... then I attempted to take off my panties. It was awkward. We were standing. And still trying to kiss.

Eventually they came off with great difficulty and there we were. Naked. Kissing in front of his piano. In the middle of his condo.

Here's the thing... Piano keys aren't that long. Ass cheeks everywhere. Unpleasant sounds. Awkward rhythms. The whole thing was wildly cumbersome and took far more work than we got back in enjoyment.

I got to thinking about how Hollywood movies let us down when it comes to sex. Pianos, elevators, hot tubs, airplanes, surprise sex...

Movies make sex scenes seems so effortless and hot and spontaneous and quite frankly, last night was a disappointment. A failure. A little off-key if you will.

some like it hot

Lately I've been having these dreams.

Hot sweaty bodies. Arms clinging onto each other's backs. Breathing heavily into ears. Legs intertwined. Hips connecting. Gasps and names filling the air. Exotic music in the background. Smoke filling the room. Hard to see. Maybe a pool table in the background? Or an ashtray by the bed.

Ahhhh steamy sex. What we all dream of.

Do people regularly have this kind of sex? I mean, there's not a doubt in my mind that says most people have been in a similar situation before... but has it ever become regular?

Do couples manage to have this hot and heavy sex constantly? Or is it inevitable that sex eventually becomes like all things regular: clock-work?

Why is it that whenever I imagine these sexy scenarios it's always with someone new... someone mysterious?

Passionate sex: can it survive the pattern?

Two way street?

It's funny how characteristics that we often proclaim being unique to females are often considered negatives in the males we date.

I was dating Andrew for close to 4 weeks when I noticed he embodied several flaws that drove me up the wall.

Too "texty."

Too concerned.

Too aiding.

Too needy.

These characteristics seemed too womanly for my liking and I had to end things before I found myself a clinger.

I got to thinking about gender characteristics and how this topic may be a one-sided street.

I mean, Andrew wasn't doing anything wrong in particular, but his feminine attributes made me gag. However, when women project themselves with more masculine traits in relationships, they seem more admirable; "stronger" if you will.

A woman who puts her foot down or seemingly has the upper-hand in the relationship seems to have it all.

Just a thought. Something I won't be giving Andrew a second time.

comin atcha!

Did it seriously take one drunken girl to start the whole women love "freaky shit" movement?

I mean, I've heard of "pearl necklaces" and other odd scenarios that I thought only existed on late night pornos or myths from Southern America, but never did I actually expect to be put in one of these situations myself.

When a complete stranger asked me if I would help him achieve an orgasm on my back, let's just say that leaving the local bar and immediately showering when I got home weren't enough to get this creep out of my mind.

How the hell did this happen?

How did men end up thinking we were up to participating in this?

I mean, I'm all for new and exciting things to do in bed... but ejaculation on the back? Is this what the 21st century has come to instead of turning to good ol' fashioned kama sutra?

Please ladies, help a sister out and the next time one of you decides to participate in this kind of behaviour, inform the man you're with that it is just you who enjoys this kind of pleasure.

Or else we might all have it coming at us.

morning sex

At the beginning of a relationship? ... Sure.

On vacation at a fancy resort? ... Fine by me!

A 7 am quickie before you go to work? ... This is where I draw the line.

I can sympathize with men's situations in the morning. Waking up with the morning fairy tickling away at their Jonsons must be a bit of a bother but for goodness sakes... women do not want to be the deposit box in this scenario!

For us, morning sex is too early and too unflattering. I mean, can we take a moment to think over the issues of morning "relief"?

We've got the bad breath, lip crusties, smudged make-up, bed head... and let's not forget the fact that morning sex is usually anywhere from 6:00 - 7:00 am... we're tired. We're also perfectly comfortable and warm in the nook we've been dreaming in all night.

So men, remember: us women need our beauty sleep... so let us have it.

Don't get me wrong, I do love a surprise afternoon delight as much as the next girl, but I can surely say that anytime after dinner (or a drunken night out) is most preferred.

women and the male genitalia

It is no secret that many men are easily aroused. From their girlfriend wearing a sexy outfit, to an extra long kiss... their Junior Sir has no problem with rising to the occasion.

Some girls muster up the courage to say, "hey, can't we just kiss for a bit?" or "easy there slugger, I was just trying to squeeze by to get to the bar." This can leave men feeling humiliated. Flustered. How'd they let themselves get so excited so easily... so fast?

This is where I ask the question: can penises be to sex as women are to relationships?

Women tend to over analyse. Yes, yes they do. Through over-analysis and reading into every single text/touch/gesture/sentence women find themselves getting all hopped up on relationship fever.

Soon after just meeting a guy, women instantly imagine relationships, cuddles, late night phone calls... the future! Suddenly, however they are splashed with the reality that perhaps this guy is just looking for a good ol' time... "nothing serious."

The fall. What was once a rash climb to relationship arousal is now slowly deflating. Damn.

Blue ball hell.