I’m a Jinius

I’m now a member of the Blogher network and listed under the “sex and relationship blogs” so I guess that means I have to start addressing the sex part of sex and relationships. Er, I’m not sure if I will be adding any anecdotal pieces since the last thing I need is for my parents to find this blog and read my stance on the reverse cow girl (ed note: wait until you’re in a relationship).

But I was doing some arduous research on the interweb this morning–see how I toil for you, dear readers!– and found some interesting blog posts on Jezebel.com about p–n’s influence on sex.

Oh, and in an effort to curb spam I am not spelling out the word for p–n. I think you readers are smart enough to read between the dashes!

One post was about how p–n was ruining sex by making guys want to do nasty things that just demoralize you and the other argued that p–n allows women to determine what makes them feel comfortable and offers them a chance to be adventurous and experimental.

I have to say that from my conversations with other girlfriends that many women complain that dudes derive too much of their sexual techniques from p–n. That sometimes women feel like the dude doesn’t even realize that’s he’s actually fucking a human being and sometimes you feel like waving a flare at the guy like that scene in Jurassic Park when Jeff Goldblum is trying to get the attention of a dinosaur and yell, “Hey! I’m over here!”

I also think that women inculcate the belief that if men are using sexual techniques from p–n then it must be dirty and therefore he thinks you are dirty. Like that scene in Knocked Up when Ben and Alison are doing it doggystyle and she feels offended because she thinks he’s fucking her as if she were a dog and Ben argues, “It’s doggy style! It’s a STYLE!”

In both blog posts, readers felt most heated about, um, how should I phrase this…facials?? And how some guys do this after the first date without even asking. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, “How rude!” I mean, that must sting! And don’t you know you are messing up her hair? What if women squirted you in the eye with a mixture elmers glue and lemon juice? Now you know how it feels!!

But, you know, none of this stuff is really about the p–n. Sure there’s a definite correlation between p–n and bedroom behavior but the most important thing is how comfortable you feel with your partner and whether that’s after the first date or the first year, that’s up to you. So go for the facials if you feel like it. And just because he’s doing it to you doggy style doesn’t mean he thinks you are a dog. Unless he’s barking or some shit then that is just weird and I’m sorry!

But I have to say the number one complaint that I hear from girls is the “jack hammer” move that guys do. Remember that episode from Sex and the City (please don’t shoot me for the satc references!) when Carrie sleeps with one of the groomsmen from Charlotte’s wedding and he basically screws her like a jackhammer and the next day she can barely walk or even straighten her back so she avoids the guy at the wedding and he confronts her with “And to think– I made love to you.”

Um, yea, guys, don’t do that…unless you are having sex with a woman made out of air.

You’re welcome.

To read the anti p–n post click here.

To read the pro p–n post click here.

It was the day before Thanksgiving.

My friends and I gathered for a dinner of tapas at this Spanish restaurant in the East Village. The table was overflowing with sangria, rioja, and even cigarettes. The owners were feeling generous and let us smoke at the table. Because it’s the holidays and because we have just injected ourselves with gallons of sugary red wine concoctions, we are feeling buoyant and boisterous.

And lustful.

We go to two more bars afterwards. After pounding a pint of some German beer, I feel a warm buzz encroaching on my entire body–a signal that I should go to bed. But someone then invites everyone to their apartment and we all agree to meet over there for more drinking.

He offers to walk me there.

Somehow we manage to be the first people to arrive at the friend’s apartment building. As we wait for the others to show up, I try to let the cold wind slap some sobriety into me.

I don’t know how it happened exactly.

But out of the corner of my eye I see him lean in closer to me.
He is a tall fellow.
Is he going to fall on me?
“Come here,” he says.
What?
Then he kisses me.
There we are, with both hands inside our coat pockets, with winter’s tendrils tickling our faces, and he sneaks me the sweetest, gentlest kiss ever.

And I have to puke.

I tell him I have to go home. I invite him over. My gut instincts are literally telling me to go home and use the bathroom and for some reason I see that as an opportunity to invite this boy–who I don’t know very well!–over to my apartment for a night of seduction.

Genius.

So we walk back to my apartment and as soon as we walk in I realize that I can’t control the room from spinning like a centrifuge.
I tell him he has to leave.
He gives me this confused look.
Then I burp.
And he laughs.
Had I been sober I would have said something like, “Excuse me” or “I’m sorry” but instead I just wave him goodbye and run to the bathroom.

The gods governing my love life must have groaned that evening. They actually throw me a bone and I ruin a romantic moment by having issues with my digestive system.

But after that incident, he actually asked me out to dinner. And we ended up going out a few times.

So I guess the lesson is that if you do stupid shit when you are drunk, sometimes the guy won’t care (or remember) because he was drunk too.

Or maybe the gods governing over your love life will toss you a “get out of jail free” card once in a while.

I went to work on Christmas Eve and didn’t kill myself. So as a reward I went to Mario Badescu for a celebratory- post-work-I-didn’t-kill-myself facial. I love Mario Badescu not only because their facials are less than a hundred dollars but the facialist told me I have skin like an 18 year old. So does this mean I can keep drinking like an 18 year old? Jaeger shots all around.

Then I met up with my favorite Miami Jews (Prom Date and Prom Date’s sister) to watch the Will Smith movie I am Legend.

Have you guys seen this movie?

Basically, it takes place in New York City where Will Smith appears to be the sole survivor of a viral infection that has wiped out humanity and the infected people turn into these cannibalistic zombies that seem to be dressed in tattered Gap khakis.

After seeing this movie, I came to the conclusion that all apocalyptic/zombie movies have the same survival lessons.

1. You must always carry a flash light because zombies are sensitive to high uv rays
2. You must be able to outrun zombies
3. You must be able to do pull-ups

So according to this list, I would probably be the first person to die in an apocalypse. It takes me 12 minutes to run a mile and I haven’t been able to do a pull up since the sixth grade. And how do I know that it is imperative to do a pull-up in the event of a zombie apocalypse? Well, there is an entire scene in the movie devoted to Will Smith just doing pull ups for like a half hour.

Inspired by the movie, I am embarking on the Zombie Work Out. I’m going to start running and learn how to do a pull-up in order to enhance my chances of fending off flesh eating zombies who apparently can run like Carl Lewis.

After the movie we met up with my other favorite Jew Meredith and went to Stanton Social where I am convinced that the waitress and bartender hated us because we all sent back our cocktails, complaining that they were devoid of flavor or any substantial amount of alcohol. Merry Christmas!

And then we went to a Jewish party at Drop Off Service. True Story. It was like 100 jews and 1 Korean. Sharing a cup. Ha.

At this point in the evening I was too drunk to flirt so I decided to leave and find pizza. On Christmas Eve. There were no pizza places open so I went home and ate a block of cheese. And a bag of chips. And popcorn. Um, I’m preparing my stomach for the zombie apocalypse.

On Christmas Day, the Jews and I went to Essex for their Christmas brunch special. For twenty dollars, you get 3 bloody marys or mimosas. Oh and you also get a meal.

Out waiter was a hot mess. The poor guy seemed very stressed out about working on Christmas Day and told us that the old lady sitting at the next table reminded him of his grandmother and he wanted to cry.

We were afraid of him.

Then the girls and I went to Cafe Mogador for coffee and sat at the bar where we started talking about sex and this guy sitting next to us asked the bartender if he could move to a table. Um, maybe I should change the name of this blog to “How to alienate people”.

And then Ursy and I went back to my apartment and watched FOUR HOURS OF THE OXYGEN CHANNEL.

This is just a horrible channel to watch because it just reinforces unhealthy ideals about men…like chivalry and rock hard abs.

We watched Moonstruck which is just my favorite romantic comedy of all time. The characters and dialogue are just so delicious and oh my god did you see Nicholas Cage’s biceps??? Like, seriously, how did men evolve from that to Michael Cera? Not that Michael Cera is not adorable in his geeky, awkward way but sometimes you want a man who looks like he can just club you over the head and take you back to his cave. Did I just set back the feminist movement by a million years?

I love that scene when Nicholas Cage is trying to convince Cher to come back to his apartment and she’s having second thoughts because she’s engaged to Nicholas Cage’s brother and Nicholas Cage gets all frustrated and angry and finally yells,

NOW I WANT YOU TO COME INTO MY APARTMENT AND GET INTO MY BED!!!!!

Sigh.

Why don’t men talk that way to women anymore?

I was out with my guy friends last night and collected some hilarious booty stories. And like a good investigative journalist I shall protect the identities of my sources. ( I should really write for the New York Times. I think they would be quite impressed with my story on being dickmatized.)

So after last night’s discussion, I learned that the average New York male in his thirties has slept between 60-100 people.

Okay, I don’t even KNOW sixty people let alone have the time to be sleeping with them. Where are you guys meeting these people? Bars? Really??? You need to lock your dicks in cages!

And then they told me that this guy I dated also slept with probably that amount of women, if not more. That was just lovely to hear.

My guy friend was talking about how he met a girl at a bar and then went home with her within four hours. FOUR HOURS. “She was really drunk”. his friend said. “Yeah, but she wasn’t drunk in the morning.” he said.

On a side note, did you know that you can clone your dick? True story. You can buy a kit that resembles a middle school chemistry set and mix all the powders together and then place the mixture on your mate’s harry potter and then wait a few moments and voila! You have a dick clone that can be used for your pleasure when your mate is not there. I think that would be the ultimate compliment for a guy. Don’t you? And since it’s the holiday season this would make a lovely gift for the both of you. I mean, this would make the ultimate stocking stuffer. Literally.

I think I’m going to send a few emails today and see how guys react.

Hey, haven’t talked to you in a while. Just wanted to see how you are doing. By the way, do you think I can clone your cock?

Then we got to talking about booty calls. My other guy friend is very happy with his booty call. “Do you like her?” I asked. He looked at me like I was speaking Chinese. “She’s a booty call.” he said. “Yeah, but do you want her to be your girlfriend?” Again, he shot me a look that said you are a fucking idiot.

I can’t remember the last time I had a bootycall. Actually I can but I try not to think about that dark period in my life known as my “early to mid twenties”. But if I were to engage in a booty call arrangement now I think that I would actually be physically incapable of fulfilling my part of the deal. I mean, the booty call contract strictly entails that you call your partner after a night of drinking with your real friends. This is probably around 3 A.M. You never call before 3 A.M. That would mean you are actually friends and hanging out. And you can’t call after 3 because you have to ensure that your partner is still semi awake and sober enough to hook up with. So 3 A.M. is the general booty call hour. And I pass out by midnight. See? I would make the worst booty call partner. Don’t call me!

I was going to write more stories but I am tired and hungover and writing about dick clones was too intellectually taxing. More later!

My roommate’s gentleman caller is my new matchmaker. He is Jewish so I call him my male yenta. I told him that if he is successful I will refer his services to my other single girl friends.

So he wants to set me up with a nice Jewish boy. But what if this guy only dates nice Jewish girls? I asked.

“Oh, the transition from Jewish girl to Asian girl is really easy. Trust me.”

And then we got to talking about why there are so many Jewish guy/Asian girl couples. Maury Povich and Connie Chung. Woody Allen and Soonyi. Okay, I guess they are not a good example. They could also be a model for incest.

Anyhoo.

I’m not really sure what is the attraction from the guy’s perspective but from a girl’s angle it could be that Jewish guys represent a mate that is the opposite of their father. Asian dads are stereotypically more austere and uptight. Jewish guys are seen as more humorous and outgoing.

Basically we want to date someone who is the opposite of our dad.

Oh, and Jewish guys are funnier than their wasp counterparts. It’s a fact. All the funny men in Hollywood are Jewish. Judd Apatow. Seth Rogen. Jerry Seinfeld. Jon Stewart. Stephen Colbertowitz. See? I don’t make this shit up.

And Jewish guys are also rumored to be well endowed. Not that all women care about that. Only women who are sexually active.

I can’t speak for all Asian girls, but I will in this case. If you are funny and smart and don’t remind us of our dads, then we will date you.

Anyway, I’m supposed to meet this guy after the new year. If all goes well, then I will definitely recommend my friend’s matchmaking services to all you single gals.

There’s so much serious stuff going on in the world today.

Bombings in Algiers.
Hotels in Rwanda.
Human rights violations in China.

But I know you people only read this blog while procrastinating at work. So I’ll refrain from the serious talk. Instead, lets talk about another grave issue that is happening to women today. A serious epidemic that must be curtailed!

I’m talking about being dickmatized. (more…)

I was bored the other day (or what some people call “Saturday night”) so I decided to write up a list of qualities that I’m looking for in a man.

Okay, before you puke in your mouth, let me tell you that there is some value in making a list. I mean, we make lists for grocery shopping or errands. Or we type a list of things to pack for a vacation on an excel spread sheet and then print it out (doesn’t everyone do that?)

Why shouldn’t we make a list for someone who may potentially see you naked? And don’t give me that crap that you fall in love when you least expect it. What does that even mean? That I’ll meet someone when I’m waiting in line for the bathroom at 7B? That just seems…sad.

Besides, I feel like the times I have dating disasters are the times that I decide to be open minded. So I made this list to ensure that I will not veer off track and that I will stay narrow minded!

Drum roll please…

1. He must have dark hair.
I like guys with dark hair. think the corollary to this rule is that he should have a head full of hair.

2. He must keep up with current events.
Okay, I don’t expect him to watch Meet the Press every week but just some general knowledge of world affairs would be helpful. One time I went out with a guy who asked me “So is North Korea the bad guy or is it South Korea?” I suppose this is a legitimate question. For someone who lives without the internet.

3. He must have a good sex drive.
Studies have shown that people who have frequent sex are much more positive and happy. I guess that explains why I have trouble finding a reason to get out of bed every day…hahahaha…er….anyhoo.

4. He must be confident enough that he doesn’t always have to be the center of attention.
I mean, it’s kinda like when Jennifer Lopez left P.Diddy and went for her back up dancer Chris Judd. Sometimes you don’t want the hip hop mogul. Sometimes you want the back up dancer with no other viable skills. Sometimes you just want to be like Jennifer Lopez!

5. He must let you try some of his food on his plate
I get really annoyed when a guy doesn’t offer you some of his food. So what if I end up eating all of my food AND his food?! It’s called manners, people!

6.He must not be afraid to make important decisions
Do you know what is the most annoying conversation in the world?

Me: What do you want for dinner?
Boy: I don’t know. What do you want?
Me: Well, are you craving anything in particular?
Boy: I don’t care . Order whatever you want.
Me: What about Chinese?
Boy: Anything but Chinese.
Me: What about Italian?
Boy: We always have Italian.
Me; Then what do you feel like eating?
Boy: How about American?

WTF???

Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning instead of pretending that you didn’t care???

7. He must have a sense of humor or at least think I have a sense of humor
Not everyone gets your sense of humor (please see post on Thanksgiving dinner). So when you finally meet someone who laughs at your stupid jokes and also thinks that the title “You’ve Got She-Male” is hilarious then you have met a real gem. Or a loser.

8. He must not be afraid to dance
My roommate says that you can learn alot about a person by the way they dance. Hmmm, so does this mean I have an inherent desire to be a stripper?

But I think you can tell things like if he’s uptight or conservative by the way he dances. I’m not saying he should be able to do the foxtrot (hello, I’m looking for someone heterosexual) but just having fun is pretty important.

9. He must be tall
Well, I’m only 5′1 so that’s not saying much.

10. He should bring out the best version of yourself.
I’ve been thinking alot about this one. This applies to any of your relationships. The ones with your family or your friends. Your partner should inspire and encourage you to do better. If that means your partner will help you remember your address after a long night of drinking (please see birthday post) then that is cool too.

And I have about ten more.

So next time a friend of mine wants to set me up with someone I shall pull out my list! Tsk tsk. It says here on my list I only date dark haired men who like to read Huffington Post. Sorry.

From the fellow I met on the street…

Text Number One:

Hi I hope u r doing well. Every day I have been going to incredible parties. Today I am getting drinks at X then a fashion party in midtown. I would love it if you came. Please? Drinks and transportation are free.


I don’t respond. Something about “incredible parties” rubs me the wrong way. And fashion party? It’s not even fashion week. And although I am a fan of parties that guarantee free booze, I don’t like to venture to midtown unless it’s work related.

Then I get a second text a week later:

Hi. Can U C Me???

Um, I have to stop telling strangers where I work.

I love Thanksgiving. I love any holiday that celebrates your inner morbidly obese child. I also love this holiday because it allows us to meditate on the things we appreciate in life. Like our health. And the fact that we don’t have any venereal diseases (that we know of).

But this Thanksgiving is particularly poignant because it marks the one year anniversary of my single hood. I bet you didn’t know that people celebrated the anniversary of their bachelorhoods. Because they don’t. I just needed something to celebrate today besides pumpkin pie and the racial subjugation of Native Americans.

I know it’s such a cliche but time heals all cold sores. And wounds! I have come such a long way since last Thanksgiving. After the breakup I really thought I would never find someone else to love. And I haven’t. But lets not focus on technicalities. No, today we shall focus on being grateful that we’re no longer crying at those diamond commercials with Cat Power crooning “How can I tell you…that I love you…I love youuuuu.”

First of all, let me just say that it is probably a bad idea to break up with someone right before a national holiday. Nothing makes you want to jump over a bridge more than being surrounded by happy couples. You just want to jam a turkey leg down their throats. But it helps to have good friends who won’t let you bask in your own depression (or get arrested for attempted murder).

Last November, my old roommate Vic forced me to leave my bedroom and go out dancing. So we got all dolled up and went to this house party in Brooklyn. It was the first time I met the divine duo Steve and Fab and their wonderful chocolate phalluses. Um, it was a dessert they made. Geesh.

That night was so much fun. I hadn’t danced in so long. What is it about being in a relationship that makes you become one of those people who go to parties to sit around and HAVE CONVERSATION? And here I was dancing and singing my lungs out. It gave me a glimmer of hope. Who needs a significant other when you have many significant others who share your love for Justin Timberlake and chocolate coverered phalluses!

Now a year has passed and I’m still dancing to JT and eating chocolate covered bananas. Some things never change! And I’m even on cordial terms with my ex. He even set up this blog for me. If we hadn’t broken up, then I probably wouldn’t have started blogging! I bet he regrets setting this up for me now.

Anyway, it’s nice to know that you really do get over it. In the end, your ex is just a person. A vessel where you are storing all these memories and emotions. I know some of you guys are going through break ups right now. And I know it’s been hard for you. But believe me when I say it really does get easier with time. Some people say that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. I’m not one of those people. (This is partly due to the fact that I pass out at bars and therefore am unable to go home with someone.) But sometimes getting over a relationship is a long, onerous process and it takes a blog, a trainer, and a match.com account to get back on the saddle. NOT THAT I HAVE EVER DONE ELECTRONIC DATING!

So this Thanksgiving lets be grateful for health, family, and good friends. The kind of friends that make you play truth or dare at five in the morning and give you pink eye because they’ve been making out with strangers.

Oh, and you should also be thankful for your exes because then you wouldn’t do hilarious things like texting them: Thanks for nothing. NOT THAT I HAVE EVER DONE THAT BEFORE!

What is up with poking on Facebook? One person pokes you. You poke back. It’s just an endless back and forth of poking until someone dies.