Bang and Regret

Somehow, without an instruction book or half-decent advice (ahem) we all have to figure out our own sexuality. That word - sexuality - frankly gives me the creeps, because it sounds manufactured by robots in a factory somewhere. I prefer sexual tastes, or sexual understanding or even personal sexual architecture.

Yeah, maybe not so much.

In any case, sex is one of the few human activities that involves our physical being, our intelligent being, our spiritual being and even our moral being, all tied up with a ribbon in one big beautiful lusty box. It's a cornucopia of stuff that can make us feel as big as the universe, as hot as the sun and as empty as space, all at one time.

So where to begin? Mostly, by not listening to anyone else. Parents through the ages, up to and including today, do a universally rotten job at explaining sex. And they concentrate on the physical, reproductive result, which even our bodies recognize as a side effect. Sex is first and foremost about pleasure, about feeling good. Start there, and we can then understand how nature tricks us into unplanned pregnancy - because she's wily, that's why.

Sex feels so good that it can overcome all kinds of logical arguments and commitments. No sex before marriage vows are admirable but completely unrealistic in my opinion. But sex on the first date with a complete stranger is likewise pretty dopey too. Somewhere in the middle is a smart compromise, but no-one ever expands on how that should work either. Try asking your mum or dad tonight how they view that conundrum.

Then there's the tricky problems we can find ourselves tangled in. Married and having an affair. Single and having an affair with someone who's married. Choosing someone who treats us poorly. Finding someone wonderful and messing it up. Thinking that there's more out there, when your own personal sexual architecture would be completely satisfied with just what you have. Thinking you're satisfied, but secretly looking for a whooooollllle lot more.

That last point is critical. Knowing what combination of lust, love, physicality, mental attraction, compatibility, respect and humour is right for you, is everything. Unfortunately, there is no Dummies Guide to Your Own Sexuality, it's all bang and regret.

Or not.


Bottoms Up, Critical Shaggers.

Date Night Shoes

Let's get down to business here and clear away the bee-ess. The world is divided into shoe-lovers and non-shoe-lovers. It can't be stated more clearly.

Here I'm referring mostly to women's shoes. Ladies, forget all the lists of stuff you are looking for in a man. Have just one requirement: the ideal bloke has spent at least ten minutes in the last week daydreaming about you in your sexiest heels. That's it! The guy who adores your feet in delicious footware will end up fulfilling every other need. Shoe-awareness is the killer dating app.

But I don't want to talk about ladies' shoes today, as much as that would give me pleasure. It's the guys who really need the help, because, like it or not, your footwear sends a powerful message - a truth most women inherently understand.

So, men, before you heading out on a date, do a little planning. Yes, I understand that most of us will dress without any forethought. We'll probably wear something that's clean and casual, jeans most likely with some kind of shirt. Most of us will avoid wife-beaters, with the overt and covert messages they send. Big-city dwellers might wear a suit; that's always good. My rule of thumb is that it's always better to err up than down, but be prepared to get some looks in Florida if you sport that Brioni three-piece in the Manatee Lounge.

Then we'll choose our date night shoes. That's where we need to get religion. Firstly, never, ever - and I mean never - wear trainers/tennis shoes on a date. They shout "foot odour" and will kill your date's nascent interest. Secondly, never take flops on a date. Ditto sandals. Feet are not equal-opportunity limbs; women's feet are the winners, and are the only kind to be seen naked in public. Keep your plates of meat hidden. Thirdly, cowboy boots are only for cowboys. If you try to pull that off, you look like you're trying too hard. All hat, no cattle, as the saying goes. Fourthly, whatever shoes you do choose, make sure the heels aren't worn down, the soles are in good repair and that they're clean and polished.

Now to the finer points. Men's shoes come in two basic varieties, lace-ups and slip-ons aka: brothel creepers. Lace-ups are always the first choice. They work well with any kind of trouser, jean or suit pant. With a little polish, they provide the - and this is important, because it's what women notice - accessorizing advantage. Quality, slightly formal shoes buff your image with the hint of luxury that women notice.

By the way, that's a word smart men understand that women live for: accessorizing.

Slip-ons can work, but you need to be careful. Those bronze-coloured alligator numbers you thought were so cool from that weekend in New Orleans will look odd in Minneapolis in March. And slip-ons don't encourage the good posture that well-made shoes naturally engender.

Here's the bottom line. Guys should always have at least one pair of quality dress shoes, kept in excellent repair. I prefer the more conservative English style, but of course the Italians win the sex-appeal stakes.



Bottoms Up, Shoe-istas.
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Now Make a U-Turn.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, not all men have movie-style bedding ability.

James Bond-like moves on ladies are (mostly) restricted to actual movie/rock stars and the Überconfident alpha-male types. You know the ones, the guys who basically have women bumping against them day and night. All they really need do is say "Yes". There is also a subset of guys who are so keyed into women's body language and ways of thinking that they can inveigle their way into immediate sex. Again, they're a minority.

The majority of we dudes rely on what I call the Garmin Effect. If you've ever taken a wrong turn, your GPS will patiently explain how to get back on course. Depending on the voice you've chosen (the subject of a whole other discussion) he or she will advise a u-turn or taking of the next exit or some other second chance at getting it right. And third and fourth and fifth and sixth chance. She's indefatigable.

So it is in real life. When a woman likes a guy, she'll often give him many, many opportunities to break through the mutuality barrier. Sure, she'll bitch to her girlfriends that so-and-so's an idiot for not making a move, but that's for show. When she sees him again, she'll attempt to send him green light after green light.

Now, there will be a limit to the lady's patience. Women aren't sophisticated navigation computers, after all. Whilst your Garmin will never give up on you, the hottie who's after you will, men, so keep that in mind. Her persistence to get you will last only so long.


This process gels with the theory that women decide early-on whether they're interested in a guy. They're always ahead of the curve. Men, mostly, are much slower at figuring it out. They need more evidence upon which to base a decision. The nexus - and the opportunity - lies in the gap between. If you're a guy and you know you're slow, try to short-circuit your own plodding microchip, and be more aware of her quick-fire processor.

Opportunity, they name is clock speed.



Bottoms Up, carbon-based lovers.

Is Love Enough?

All you need is love.

John Lennon in 1967

To love is to find pleasure in the happiness of others.

Gottfried Leibniz in 1696

Love has, over the centuries, become the ultimate utility player in the game of life.

Love began as God's go-to starter in an all-star line-up that includes omnipotence, omnipresence and righteousness. Now there's a team. Throw in a little unchangeability and you're looking at an unbeatable outfit. What are you going to challenge them with? Fallibility? Materiality? Mortality?

Good luck with that. 

Which explains why we've co-opted love for ourselves. Love is the most malleable of all the spiritual descriptors, the most likely to forgive, the one that won't judge. Human love can accept a lot of behaviour we might otherwise consider less than godly:

He cheats; but I still love him.

She verbally abuses me; but we still love each other. 

We're alcoholics; and we can overcome that together because our love is strong. 

It's as if love is a kind of clueless fairy floating above everything, ignoring the dark side of humanity, prescribing pixie dust to fix things. Which is fine if you can likewise float about dishing out magic cures, but somehow I think you are with me down here in real life. Our lives are messy and unpredictable, a mystery in almost every way. I think we've adopted love as a code-word for unjustified optimism, to short-circuit disagreement and facing up to shitty things.

But enough negativity. Here's a list of qualities of which humans are capable that in my opinion are more valuable than love, especially in marriage, not least because - unlike love - they're definable. 

* honesty

* patience

* good humour

* integrity

* thrift

* an ability to look life in the face

* a sense of perspective 

and this one, which I stole: 

* absolutely no agenda or ambition for you beyond that you're happy

Which takes us neatly back to the Leibniz quote. In my thinking, a practical love is one in which you wake up every morning thinking about how you can make your sig oth happy.



Bottoms Up, morning lovers.

Why Men Love Women

Lost in the tumble dryer of life is the number one reason men love women: you are different from us.

You: are the pink thong we found amongst our load of whites.

You: are the bird of paradise we discovered bunking in with our chickens.

You: represent the bouillabaisse in a world of canned soup. 

YOU: are the blue-cheese stuffed olive that magically appeared in our whisky.


We recognize parts of ourselves in you. There's the day-to-day stuff, like breathing, eating, sleeping, cutting your toe-nails. They're all clearly recognizable.

Then there are the bits and pieces that we understand, but don't do ourselves: the endless fussing with hair, the individual driving style, preoccupations with inconsequential celebrities, capri pants. And of course there's the shit we simply sit back and watch in amazement: anything reproductive up to and including childbirth; catfights; multi-tasking and the complete mystery/wonderment that is the false eyelash.

Important to understand here is the subtlety of these things. It's the way you approach life that fascinates us. Your emPHASis is all different; up when ours is down; inside when ours is out; blended when ours is on the rocks. Fascination stems from the slight eccentricity of a view of the universe 15 degrees removed. And by eccentricity, I mean adorable quirk.

So if anyone tells you that the way to a better world is to be more like a man, think about this beautiful harmony we have with each other, and wonder why anyone would want it different.





Bottoms Up, make-up appliers in traffic.

Break-Up City, Population: A Lot.

What proportion of break-ups are amicable, do you think? One-half? A quarter? Ten percent? Five percent? Five total?

My guess is fewer than one in twenty bust-ups are mutually agreeable to the point where the two people involved are happy with the decision after two weeks. I base this on my best analysis of the asymmetry of most relationships, which in normal language means that one person is always more into it than the other. That's the point of stress in all our dealings on this quasi-romantic level - inequality of expectation.

There is no way around this notion that most relationships are pretty much doomed from the beginning. If you're a serial monogamist, you're living in a neighbourhood full of cul-de-sacs and regular, non-French dead-ends. It's the way the town-planner - the devil himself - designed it. If you want a continual stream of new lovers in your life, the price you pay is the angst and dislocation of perpetually reaching the end of the road, sometimes pretty soon after taking the turn.

Sure, some roads don't reveal themselves as going nowhere until quite some time later. That means when you do come to the "Wrong Way: Turn Around" sign, the break-up will be even more tearful, the recriminations way more cutting, and the hurt much longer lasting.

And I don't buy the whole schtick about women being more affected by a busted relationship than men. There are cold, callous women just as there are flippant, uncaring men, for whom a break-up is just another speed bump. Men and women process and reflect the consequences of the end of an affair (in the widest sense) differently. From that stems the different ways we communicate our emotions to the world. Even though men will use bravado through the loss, their dislocation is no less painful. Endless talking and re-hashing isn't our style.

There is a way out of this neo-modern hook-up and dump city. But for me to tell you would be presumptuous in the extreme.



Bottoms Up, Turn and Burners.

Health Warning: Serial Dating Sends You Blind

I wonder sometimes what the point of serial dating is. As a stand-alone activity, like, say, attending spin class or taking archery lessons, I'm not sure why it's so popular because, frankly, it's painful. And you never really get anywhere. It's just one fresh body after another.

Serial dating - which I define as successive bouts of fewer than ten dates - gets old really quickly. Meeting and beginning the discovery process sounds and feels like a legal proceeding after a while. All the same stuff has to be asked ie;

+ where do you come from?

+ what do you do for a living?

+ dog person or cat person?

+ spit or swallow (when wine tasting)?

...ad infinitum like some kind of early-round beauty pageant from hell. That's not a bad metaphor as I think of it, because that's what we're doing here, hoping to uncover the one we find most attractive in swimwear, dinner wear, lounge wear and underwear.

Or are we? Are we really looking for someone we want to spend our time adoring and making happy? Or has the thrill of a new possibility every three weeks taken over?

Clearly, some people like the game of dating. They're the serial life re-decorators who enjoy squeezing facts out of the newbie and finding a few that resonate. (For a two week emotional blitz.) This is using people as ornament, an enterprise that probably works short-term, but will leave you with the equivalent of an emotional hangover untreatable in the long term. Sex might be involved, but it's the Cliffs notes of sex, not the awesome component of a great marriage.

I think this is a problem. Dating should be about finding someone for the long-term. Despite my flippancy, I believe that dating as a form of sport isn't good for either men or women. The emotional cost of the meeting/discovery/sex/break-up cycle can be controlled in the short term, but gradually wears you out. And the resulting danger is that when the right person does pop into your life, you might be too jaded to notice, too blind too see.

New is fun, but depth is better.



Bottoms Up, Serious Daters.

Friday Fluffer - Bigger is Better Unless It's Too Big

The Friday Fluffer is nothing without the kind of information headlined as follows:

Study reveals well-endowed men get the girls.

New research has shown that 21st century females are far more similar to their cavewomen ancestors than originally thought, because the size of a man's penis still plays a key role in deciding how attractive a woman rates him. 

Oh dear. Maybe all y'all aren't as sophisticated as you thought. But wait... 

In what may come as a relief to many men, manhood must not be so large that it appears out of proportion to the rest of his body. 

Wait a second! I thought you said that size was key? So the big swinging dick gets the girls, unless he doesn't because his cock brushes the ground.

Sheesh. Read for yourself and see if you can figure it out...

UK Daily Mail Online - Size Really Does Matter In The Bedroom.



Bottoms Up, Capacious Ones.

The Dating Gods

A bunch of men exist who know exactly how to 'level up' with women. These are the guys who have the instinctive ability to find, bed and wed the most desirable females at will. They don't need to even think about it.

We meet these dudes in high school. They're the ones who always had a girlfriend, and kept her with their smile alone. They're also the guys who had sex with their girlfriends, effortlessly, and, given their confidence, more competently than men double their age. They're the guys who just knew shit about girls, and apparently always did, as if they'd been kissed on the dick by a fairy at birth.

You know the type, right? Guys like this were a step above and beyond mere journeyman women-lovers like me. Even at this distance, I could name them all from my Year 12 class. I can see them now, flirting with their many female admirers, making it look easy. How could they keep that group of seventeen-year-old-hormone-addled schoolgirls rapt for the entire lunch-hour? It just wasn't fair.

Ahem.

At a guess, they make up somewhere south of 5% of the male population. And they're not all handsome, sporty types, either. Sometimes they are simply good communicators, or they're funny, or skilled at operating in groups. Oftentimes they look to be working effortlessly, because although they care, they never look like they care. It's a form of magic.

I chose my metaphor about 'leveling up' carefully. Especially in high school, the precise status of the relationship you have with your girlfriend is calibrated in very fine increments. Just where you are on the road to hands-in-her-pants or bare breastedness is measured zipper-tooth by bra-hook. This might be because all of this is general knowledge - after all, what's the point of finally getting your finger wet if no-one in the school quadrangle knows about it? High-school dating is nothing if not a group ritual.

'Leveling up' is from the gaming world, of course, the other obsession of teenaged boys. The irony is that those nerd-types who can easily level-up in video world demonstrate inversely proportional skills in a real life world filled with females. The nerdy types might know all the hacks to reach the ultimate game level, but the 5 percenters know all the hacks to get to the ultimate girl level.

So here we are, years later, and I still see the 5 percenters getting all the babes. Some of them turned out to be gay, for sure. Others kept leveling up, and, unable to settle, are still measuring their lives by numbers of ladies bedded. But I think most of them married (good lookers) and had all the same difficulties in life as everyone else. Still and all, they have that effortlessness that most of us will forever envy, even if they are totally unaware of it.


Bottoms Up, All-Knowing Ones.

Online Dating Goes Offline

Online dating runs on a kind of dreamlike fantasy. Folks live in hope that the right person will pop into their search criteria, and, perhaps after a few mis-steps and poor choices, everything will work out just right. And if it isn't working like that, just one more date will do the trick.

Surely this is a special form of self-punishment? In my experience, people I met online needed to start with a negative two or three date handicap compared to people I've met in real life. In other words, it takes me a couple of face-to-face meetings before I'm even convinced they're vaguely who they say they are online. Call me cynical if you like, but I think it's smart to be skeptical.

I think it's worse for women, by the way. Online dating sites are chock full of guys pretending to be someone they think you want them to be -  not who they really are. If it isn't clear to you by now, online dating attracts sociopaths (and probably psychopaths) like Lindsay Lohan attracts traffic charges. Women could do worse than to use my handicapping system.

But I smell a change in the air. I haven't been on Match for a long time, but I noticed recently that they now conduct (host?) real life gatherings for their customers. Bravo. This is a step in the right direction, not least because groups of onliners can check out not only their chosen person of interest, but everyone else too. Just like people used to meet.

Another service I really like is How About We... I discovered them on a business video, where the two principals talked about how and why they started. To me, this is the perfect blend of online and offline dating. The idea, as I understand it, is to get into the real world as quickly as possible, to begin live dating ASAP. To that end, they facilitate the sometimes fraught process of finding, choosing and agreeing on a place to go, or activity to share. Brilliant.

I've not been paid or contacted by the How About We people to write this; I simply think it's a great idea. If anyone has experienced their service, I'd love to hear about it.



Bottoms Up, Offliners.

Lessons From My Cat - Part 4

If you would know a man, observe how he treats a cat.

Robert A. Heinlein.

Cats, like women, tell you how they're feeling, just as long as you understand their language.

Let's remember that we have the advantage of a sophisticated spoken language to communicate. That is not the complete blessing you'd imagine. As accurate as English can be, it can also be used for misdirection and confusion. Argument and hurt are powerful reminders of the power of words.

A much simpler and easier to understand language is the cat purr. Purring is not completely understood, because cats use it when at both ends of the emotional spectrum: when they're happy and content, and when they're scared. However, for we amateur cat fanciers, there are only three kinds of purr we need to understand.

* the Perfunctory Purr is the greeting purr your feline will give as an offering of welcome. When you arrive home from work, she'll rub your legs (to confirm ownership) and purr for our benefit. It's the equivalent of...  


Hi honey! It's nice to smell you. How was your day?


* the Head Purr is practically the same as the Perfunctory Purr, but is used for a different reason. It shows that your cat is happy, but with a measure of wariness. This is the kind of purr you'll hear when you are working with your computer, and Paws decides she wants to prove she's more interesting that the screen. She'll sit between you and your work, or walk across the keyboard, or chase the mouse (!) She's saying...

Hey, pal, I'm in the mood for some play! Let's get with the program and pay attention. 


* the Total Body Purr is when your furry friend has completely given herself to being with you. Oftentimes she'll be sitting on your lap, or lying next to you/on you. The purr, as the name implies, encompasses her whole body, telling you that she's completely at ease in your company, fully trusting that everything's okay. My cat will let me - no! make me! - scruff her belly, which increases the intensity of her purr. When a cat is comfortable enough to bare their belly, they are showing you they have no fear - they're giving YOU their most valuable gift.

Vulnerability, or even the appearance of vulnerability, is the common thread between women and cats. Both have to be self-protective, even if they find people deserving of their trust. On a solemn note, men can be cats' best friends, but some men will be their worst enemy. It's the same for women. Men who want to be with and protect women are their greatest ally. Other types of men are their most dangerous enemy.

That's why women should carefully consider Heinlein's quote, above.




Bottoms Up, Purring Beauties.

Guys Just Wanna Have Fun. Sorta.

I want to clear up a piece of folklore about blokes and their sexual appetites.

The shorthand way of looking at guys is that we're ready to down trou and have at it with any woman at any time. We're always thinking about sex, spend our waking hours daydreaming of naked women, and, in the absence of a willing partner, avoid masturbating 24/7 only because we need to hold down jobs and occasionally drink beer.

That's a caricature, but I suspect one with more veracity than is good for us.

In the abstract sense all of the above can be true, but it depends on what else occupies our brain. We guys are simple in the way we think. If there's a beautiful woman in front of us, we'll think about her. If there's a complicated piece of software to fix, or a business to run, that's where our attention goes. At those times - when occupied with the non-sex world - we're not sex obsessed. However, the trigger to swap *thinking* spreadsheets for *thinking* sport between the sheets activates with a small amount of pressure.

We're cocked, but not loaded, most of the time.

By way of precision, we need to understand here that we're talking about standard-issue males; men without hormonal, pneumatic, mental or physical blights that will prevent them attaining and/or maintaining an erection. These poor fellows exist, and we wish them nothing but a swift (and rigid) recovery.

However, even normal functioning men will pass on sex. It might be sex with their wives or even the nympho beauty who just happens to have dropped into our lap. Other stuff will get into our heads, for instance:

~ if we smell psychological problems with that girl who shows a sudden unwarranted interest

~ if the (not wife or g/f's) ardor doesn't add up for whatever reason

~ if there are unresolved points of tension with a wife or girlfriend

~ if we have some other overwhelming life problem going on

~ if we feel the woman has some other motive

~ if we feel the wife or girlfriend isn't entirely on our side

Important here is that these caveats only work when sober. After a few brews the defence mechanisms honed to look for these points of wariness disappear. Many a relationship begun when drunk is painfully dissolved in the company of a good hangover. A long, throbbing hangover.


Finally, a happy thought. How a woman presents to a man is important. If your wife or girlfriend puts their arm around you, and tells you how wonderful you are, and how they are lucky to have you as part of their life, almost all guys will be tremendously reassured. Remember, above all else men seek validation and approval from their woman. From that stems love and great sex.

Ladies: How easy is that?



Bottoms Up, Thinkers.

End-Play

There are no straight lines in nature, which goes a long way towards explaining the female rump.

There used to be additional text in Genesis:

...and on the tenth day, He created lady rear-ends, and seeing that they were beautiful, named them buttocks...

...but scholars figured a seven-day work-week was sufficient for the the Almighty, and, anyway, the ethereal quality of these things was self-evident. So they dropped their creation from the text. Pity, really, because I feel it gives things a more recognizable character.

I bet you aren't aware that history is full of other, less grand stories testifying as to the way we men adore the curve of you ladies' backsides. You know the Mona Lisa? She's the one stuck in Le Louvre with 157,000 of her closest friends gawping at her every day. What's not well known is that Leonardo da Vinci originally wanted to paint a picture of her buttocks. She demurred, however, and said that she'd smile enigmatically and guarantee interest in the portrait for centuries if he captured her face instead.

I have it on good authority that her inspiring happy look came about when the painter gently caressed her bottom...

...Oh, Leo, you forward thing you. What a nice touch you have...mmmmm, just there...

...at which point he said

HOLD IT! That' perfect! Just the look I want!...

...neatly explaining why she looks that peculiar way.

Womens' buttocks are, clearly, the work of the divine. The curves are not of this paltry material world, giving many of us reason to spend our lives devoted to their admiration. Some guys will tell you they rank other aspects of feminine form higher, but in the end, we're all quiet lovers of your reverse.




Bottoms Up, Bottoms Lovers!

It's Just a Little Kiss

If you and I were anthropologists from another galaxy, I'm sure we'd want to know more about kissing. What is this behaviour, and why do these humanoid life forms engage in it?

Kissing is perennially popular, for a start, which is a hint as to how enjoyable it is. That act of putting my lips to her lips is irresistible. Smell and taste a female once, you're hooked. Y'all are so soft and creamy, like a delicious cake, only an alive cake that kisses back. Hmmmm, perhaps not the best simile.

My first real make-out session was with Anna R. (Surname withheld so as not to embarrass her in her current marriage and high-profile public figurehood.) I can still taste her saliva and lip-gloss mix, not only because it's a life-changing act, but but because in the dark of a movie cinema, one's senses of smell and taste work overtime. Oh yes, the cinema was then the best place for teen snog-sessions, much like the drive-in movies were for the prior generation. I think Anna was further along the snog/sex continuum than I was, looking for more than just an hour of high-energy mouth-love. But I was happy and grateful and really only qualified for a snogfest. Anything more would have been an act too far.

Which brings me to the whole question of tongue interaction. As interstellar anthropologists, I'm certain we'd wonder precisely what pleasure results from such a thing. In the cool clear light of day, the idea of tongues engaging in the way we do when we kiss is at the very least a mystery. No doubt the internet has plenty of theories, but it seems to me it's all about connection. In some fundamental way, because we eat, speak and taste the world through our mouths, sharing that space with another person is as close a connection we can have without actual intercourse. 

It's telling that prostitutes reputedly consider kissing a John's mouth to be much more intimate than taking his cock into her mouth.  

My only point of concern about making out is that we so often think it's only a lead-up to more sexual activity. The joy of kissing as a destination of itself is worth consideration.



This link to a terrific BBC World Service Radio show about kissing, courtesy La Tigresse.

Bottoms Up, Crazy Snogging Fools.

Knowledge - The Greatest Gift

If Womens' Studies courses were really concerned with disseminating information about women, they'd be chock-full of blokes. Let's face it, guys are enthusiastic - if somewhat clueless - lifelong devotees of female form and function, and could truly benefit from professional instruction.

But a course dealing with the whys and wherefores of practical lady behaviour would be instantly shut down by the same women who run the aforementioned Womens' Studies faculty. Ironic, eh?

Take cunnilingus, for example. When a young man tastes his first pussy, it confirms everything he'd come to expect from his initial forays, namely, finger-fucking. Pussy tastes, feels and smells like nothing else in the universe, which can be a shock for the learner lover. What to do? How does this warm pleasure palace work, and how can I improve my performance so that she thinks more highly of me?

If nothing else, when we see our first female orgasm up close, we realize our life-long quest is to hone whatever input we have to the process. We like having you shake and moan, squirt and gush, scream and blush. It's addictive.

Sadly, sending the average male youth to be helpful with such a thing is equivalent to tuning a nuclear submarine with a crescent wrench. He might find and tighten the correct bolts, but it's all gonna be hit and miss.

The right tools for the job, the job of being with a woman on all levels, do exist. Most men eventually find that place of understanding, and, dare I say it, competence, both between the thighs and between the ears. The pity is that it mostly requires trial and error, which means her trial and patience with his error. Question and answer from a disinterested third party would make a huge difference.

Does anyone know of an actual Woman Instructor?




Bottoms Up, Educators.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.

People claim to have amicable break-ups, but I don't buy it.

From even the briefest...what shall we call them?...encounters, a rejection is a rejection. Only the most metaphysically organized and ego-free individual can take this:

Sorry, but I don't want to see you again. 

...and honestly reply...

Whatever you think is best. Thanks for the opportunity though! 

...and mean it.

Mild resentment is the least emotion a dumpee is likely to feel, homicidal mania the most. Hopefully we avoid the latter.

The wider question is just how we got to this point. Serial dating by definition leads to serial break-ups. Break-ups should be like the collapse of a small enterprise - they're good in that you know what doesn't work, so  you can improve next time. Each subsequent business will build upon the failures of the past, but relationships don't quite work that way because each time we're dealing with a new individual. We have to do the heavy-lifting from scratch.

What multiple dating should do is hone our choice of potential partner. Sadly, the forces that motivate us to seek 'the one' are more ingrained than lessons from the immediate past. We tend to be driven by instinct and childhood biases than the more recent fact of adult experience.

Hell. Not much positivity there.



Bottoms Up, Drifters.

Lessons From My Cat - Part 3

Critical to understanding the cat is the fact that they don't see the world so much as smell it. Yes, cats have beautiful eyes, but they see only in black-and-white, and their vision is tuned to detect movement. Consider the mouse, dinner in prospect for your average tabby - it's not important to see what colour the mouse is, only how fast it's moving and in what direction. The way they process the information the world provides them is finely aligned with their survival.

Women don't chase mice, as far as I know. Their eyesight is the same as ours, but what they "see" is different. In other words the way they process the same sensory input varies wildly from men. 

For instance, when I see an interesting woman walking down the street, I'll ponder...

~ what kind of bra she's wearing

~ what her pussy might look like

~ whether she'd laugh at my jokes

~ how she'd react to my touch

...until I see the next attractive woman, whereupon the process begins again.

Women, like cats, don't prioritize the same thing. When a woman spies a man she finds attractive, she won't walk past him with her tongue hanging out. Without missing a beat, she'll...

~ figure where he buys his clothes

~ guess what kind of car he drives

~ decide if he's in a relationship

~  if the answer to the above is 'yes', work out whether she's hotter than his girlfriend

~ estimate his income to within a few hundred dollars per year

...which is self-evidently a different assessment process.




Cats have a very clearly defined hierarchy of needs for which they are immensely well evolved. When all their needs are met, they're able to relax, for the most part, but the call of the wild is never too far away. Domesticity works, as long as it's on their terms.

That's what makes them eternally fascinating.


Bottoms Up, Mouse-Chasers.

Single Effort - Book Review

The first rule of 'how to' books is: Know your audience.

In the case of "Single Effort: How to Live Smarter, Date Better, and Be Awesomely Happy" Joe Keller succeeds, mostly because he writes for himself. That's a good thing, because there are many guys like him looking for help, even if they don't know it.

Keller is a divorced father, a demographic (sadly) on the increase. His book isn't a narrative about the changes divorce wrought in his life, but it could be. What he's done is to catalogue the bridges he crossed and the hills he climbed after his split, and provide nicely succinct solutions to a lot of the problems he found.

For instance, creating a home. Many guys probably left home decoration to their wives. Now they're on their own, they need to think about how to set up a household that works for them and their children. Guys tend not to think in specifics in this area. A bed, a couch, a television and somewhere to put their car keys will often be the extent of their exploration. But we like a stylish place as much as women - it's just that we don't know where to start. A few clear-cut pointers go a long way, and Keller does so without condescension. Again, he knows his likely readership, because he is his readership.

That's the heart of this book. Keller shines his word-processing flashlight into the areas most guys tend to overlook; how to set up a kitchen, how to cook a few basic dishes, how to clean (a favourite of mine) and not least, how to date. Some of the information is as basic as it comes...how to choose cleaning products, or how to choose wine, for example. Some guys will already know much of this. But revising the fundamentals of life in this way is refreshing to see, and good for we men in the sense that we know we have the important stuff covered.

Naturally, Keller also dives into how to date as a new singleton. His philosophy partially aligns with mine, in that he's a real-world dating advocate. Joining volunteer groups or a fitness club, taking classes or simply being in the community are all suggestions as to how to meet women. Frankly, I'm not certain that a divorced man with minor children should be out there dating. The kids already have enough chaos in their lives. However, people will fall to their urges, and at least the advice here is practical.

There is one chapter about online dating - I guess no book like this would be complete without such a thing.

Clearly, this book is a winner on two levels. Firstly, the author's tone is pitch-perfect. He neither talks down to his reader, nor does he patronize them. Secondly, he doesn't overlook the mundane; that alone sets him apart, because the guy who buys and uses the right cleaning products in his water closet is the guy who gets the girl.


Bottoms Up, Detail Oriented Daters.

The Dating Checklist

Gradually, it's becoming clearer to me that a wish list - a dating wish list - isn't as productive as I might have thought.

That mental checklist we all keep of the qualities and attributes of that special someone is normal and of some value, but we always need to be willing to toss it away. The very act of permitting ourselves to ignore our preconceived ideas of who is right and who is wrong for us is liberating. It's an acknowledgment of the fact that life is chaotic, and we never know who is just around the corner.

The idea of filtering people appeals to us because it cuts down on possibilities. When you're in the market for people, the choice is more-or-less infinite. It's more confusing than the cereal aisle at the supermarket, but even there knowing what you want should give way to the experience of finding something new. When you want granola and know it, that's a good thing - until you discover something better.

But finding the person who meshes perfectly (or as perfectly as possible) isn't so simple. For one thing, we are only rarely sufficiently self-aware to know how we fit with any random person. For another, life has a way of throwing stuff and people at us that we just didn't think existed. In essence, we all think that our brains and experience are all-encompassing, and that nothing can surprise us. That's a form of arrogance, and not good if you're truly open-minded about exploring every possibility offered up.




Bottoms Up, Open-Minders.

Your Fear of Rationality Makes Me Uncomfortable.

Is it possible that we've just gone too far? Have we invested our relationships with so much emotion that we've lost track of the purpose of dating and being with someone? What's going on here?

Like lots o' folks, I don't handle conflict particularly well, especially with the women, and more so when I'm "with" a woman. Painful as they are to face, breakups are moments of high stress, even if we're only a few dates in. However, why should it be a matter of tears or anger or recrimination or harsh words when the truth is spoken?:

Sorry, Lena, this just isn't working for me.

In the moment, I get that some emotion is right and fair. But that's why we date, to discover if there's more to "us" than a shared initial superficial attraction. When it becomes clear to one or the other things aren't working, the right/only/mandatory thing to do is to call "time" and do it in as nice a way as possible.


If you're on the receiving end of this, your job is to look beyond your emotion. When someone's being open and truthful, accept it as an act of real friendship. Only bums and losers continue on in something by pretending to themselves and others. False affection is the ultimate betrayal; another word for people like that is sociopath.

At root, this is about figuring out why we find ourselves in a place were emotion is the centre of all relationships. Look around: in boyfriend/girlfriend situations, in parent/child relationships, even at work, it's how you feel that counts. Of course, emotions are important, but should they supersede logic, intellect, practicality and clear-headedness?

I think not.

Fear, in my opinion, is the driver of all this reliance on the emotional response. We fear not ever finding the right person; we fear that the one we thought was the right person will leave; we fear how we look to the outside world. Of course, this more or less proves my point, because fear itself (in this sphere of thought) is the most irrational emotion, and allowing it to drive anything related to abstracts like relationships is the height of illogicality. We've translated fear of physical harm into fear of emotional harm - trust me, there's no bottom to our emotional pool. If you lose some emotion today, you can always turn on the spigot tomorrow.



Bottoms Up, Calm and Rational Exes.