Romancing

This romance thing is a remarkably slippery beastie. There are dictionary definitions and internet-style descriptions, but none really captures the essence of what might turn out to be a rather abstract abstract concept.

Food metaphors are always good when contemplating matters of the heart don't you think? Food is physical and mental, and heavenly and hellish, just like love. So the immediate connection I made was that romance is like truffles. Truffles are rare, rich, expensive, laboursome and worth every cent. They're stinky (yet delicious) addictive (yet satisfying in small amounts) and exotic (although nonchalantly humble.)

The verb romance can be described thusly:

...to court or woo romantically; treat with ardor or chivalrousness...

which sounds awfully Wuthering Heights to me. And throughout the descriptions, there runs this thread:

...a baseless, made-up story, usually full of exaggeration or fanciful invention...

which reminds me of women living in an imagined mental wonderland of hunky suitors and forever love.

Frankly, I like romance = truffles. One can reminisce about meals one has had, and dream about meals to come with truffles. One can have truffles rarely and be satisfied. And if truffles come into your life, they go with everything except dessert.

Romance Part 1, Romance Part 3, Romance Part 4.

Romance

Here is a list of words direct from my brain, the result of a self-administered word-association exercise. The word? Romance.

corsets
kissing
flowers
lingerie
perfume
gifts
heels
hotels
lovey-dovey
what women want
emotions
buttons
bra hooks
spooning
holding
candlelight
wine
cheap fiction
Heathcliff
Emily Brontë
frock coats

And so on.

Disappointingly pedestrian, I'm sure you'll agree.

So if we're looking for more than just a hook-up, something greater than sex, is romance that thing? And if so, what is romance? Is it about longing and unrequited desire, or is it sex after a nice dinner?

Romance. It's this week's focus.

Romance Part 2, Romance Part 3, Romance Part 4.

Foreplay by Numbers

Golf embraces the concept of foreplay too, and in the same way as sex.

Shouting FORE! = Lookout, incoming!

Golf too has rules regarding that which is allowable and that which is not, just like real foreplay. A mate of mine relates the tale of being in Greece as a youth on a drunken teenage vacation. (He's English.) Standing at a bus stop with a Scottish girl he met earlier in the evening, they got frisky. When he reached up her skirt, she put a temporary end to proceedings by declaiming "Tits first, then box" in her delightful broad brogue.

The road to paradise is strewn with dead ends and blind turns. Until you have a working knowledge of the road, it's best to stick with a few basic rules that you both understand.

1. Some form of lubricant is a good idea. Social lubricant, that is. Alcohol is the standard way of reducing inhibitions.

2. Circle your object of desire in the same way that lions stalk prey. Purr, tread softly, use your tongue, be patient.

3. Encountering resistance is normal, and shouldn't dissuade you from continuing. Divert your attention elsewhere for a while, return to the scene of disappointment. Watch the gate open.

4. Feigning and misdirection are normal elements of foreplay.

5. Remember, it's only sex. It's not like negotiating strategic arms limitation treaties. Humour helps a lot. There's a reason it's called fooling around and not seriousing around.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 3.

Take One Step Back

Guessing here, but I imagine that most guys rush foreplay. Being goal oriented does have drawbacks. Great in mergers and acquisitions. Leads to dissatisfaction in sex.

This is a case where the animal in us (rrrrrrawwrrrr) needs to be trained. If we behaved like bonobos, we'd be copulating pretty much all the time. Delaying copulating is the operative thought here - it's all about tantalizing the females before the males get their junk in where it counts.

Concentrating less on one's junk in the short term makes for a happy man in the long term. I think the answer to this is to really, really slow down the foreplay, or better still, find a way to fall in step with your lady's pace.

In a perfect sexual world, this would be every guy's aim. Experiment with the woman, and encourage her feedback. Every babe is different, so if you have a harem, school's in much of the time. The upside is that once you have the outline of a woman's sexual mind, life becomes very, very happy.

But you need to reach that point first, and male drive being what it is, speed looks to be the right thing; it is not. I would try slowing everything down by taking one step back for every step you make towards actual penetration. By that I mean if you're about to start caressing her breasts, try to hint at it first. If you're removing her panties, don't. Go do something else. Delay to the point that she's squirming with anticipation.

Suggestion, hinting, inference, teasing are the bedrocks of guiding her to want you with the same aggression that you want her.

In fact, the art of turning on a woman lies in creating anticipation. They love it, and it pays to remember that anticipation lives in the mind, not in the pussy.

Now, there will always be the times (or indeed the women) who aren't wired to find deliciousness in anticipation. In that case, they'll tell you. Learning to listen to what she's telling you is part of being at school. But I don't mean necessarily what she's verbalizing.

What she's telling you in every other way is more important.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 4.

Kiss the Vagina, but is it foreplay?

Let's set up this foreplay business.

First up, it is mostly about the woman.

Secondly, it is a customary precursor to penetration.

Thirdly, it is not an essential precursor to penetration.

No point in me attempting to describe foreplay better than here. This is the best and most succinct description of sexual petting, despite the pedestrian source. Worth a read.

Definitions are fine, but I like looking outside the box, if you'll pardon the expression. A wonderful idea came to me after a long talk with a lover one day, when she said:

I love it when you look at me like you want to eat me, then fuck me.

That struck home because it expanded the universe of foreplay from an act with a beginning and end, to something couples can engage in all the time. If a simple look can engender sexual feelings in a woman, foreplay can be all-the-time-play.

As enticing as that sounds, it's not practical. But the message to men is clear; foreplay is about more than just physical contact. Subtle creatures that they are, women respond to many more stimuli than you'd imagine. The key to understanding foreplay is to see it as something you can think your way into.

Guys should try this experiment. Next time you sit down with your wife or girlfriend, consciously think of her as sex on wheels. Imagine her in the way that arouses you most, and how much you'd like to taste her and smell her and fuck her. Talk to her - not about sex - while you're actively thinking about bending her over the kitchen table, taking her from behind.

You will be hard put to prevent yourself looking at her like you want to take her right now, and she will probably notice. It works. You don't need to leer or be salacious. Simply bringing her and her sexuality to mind will alter the energy between you.

Women want to be wanted. Women want to be thought of as sexy. It does not require a full-on fuckfest to keep her simmering. Men, this is foreplay at its most simple.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 3.

Foreplay Part 4.

Kiss the Vagina

If there is a gene for foreplay, I was born without it.


{Allowing time for snarky jokes.}


But every man was born without such a thing, because foreplay is a learned skill, not something innate. What we guys are created with is an over-riding curiosity about women's bodies, a field of inquiry that I can imagine lasts until death.

Foreplay, however, is rather more than a game of doctors and nurses (as much fun as that might be). In a way, it is close to the pinnacle of a relationship between a man and a woman, in that it involves trust, sensitivity, humility, communication, feedback, patience and hopefully, humour.

That's the theme for this week: how men can be better at foreplay.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 3.

Foreplay Part 4.

You are the best, darling.

In our porned-up society, sex-competitiveness has taken hold.

I give the best blow-jobs. Evah.

We screwed for hours man, hours!

Yeah, I'm a bit tired. Five times last night.

Boasting about length, volume, longevity, quantity or dirtiness of one's coupling is a kind of national vanity. One day the National Sex Directorate Czar will arrive to pin a blue ribbon on your chest: First Prize for Bonking.

Unfortunately, the Sex Directorate neglects to publish standards defining good and bad sex. It's the kind of basic oversight you'd expect from another dopey government department, so we naturally turn to the private sector for guidance. By default, the porn industry and its denizens give us the thumbs-up or -down for sexual behaviour, which leads us neatly back to where we started. If you want to know how to do something, seek guidance from specialists.

Ergo, porned-up world.

This is a notion utterly divorced from the truth. A big lie, if you like, that's all too easy to adopt. It's way simpler to discern good from bad sex based on porn criteria than to use our minds. Good sex begins and ends in the mind. Our bodies are the medium through which many layers of drives and emotion are expressed.

In the afterglow, when someone says to you: You're the best (pant, pant) darling, consider asking against whom he or she is measuring you.

Fear

Back to the week's topic, which is why we feel compelled to mask the truth.

I am happy to be contradicted, but I think we are all frightened of what other people think of us. Fear of rejection runs highest on a first date, and gradually subsides from there. The question is why we think another person - and a stranger, at that - has a better grasp on what's good or bad or smart or chic than we do.

It's insane to believe that someone we have just met knows more about life and our place in the universe. And yet, again and again, we seek other viewpoints about where we fit. Which goes a long way towards explaining why when we do find someone we like, or love, or just feel good about, we don't want to blow them away with our version of the truth. It is only with folks we don't know that we feel free to bollox them.

It's completely ass-backwards. Strangers tell us (in High-Def) just where we're going wrong, and our allies can't bring themselves to do so.

Changing this ingrained behaviour is impossible. What we can do is not perpetuate it ourselves, and if assaulted by the dumb criticisms of strangers, ignore it. Dating would benefit from a lot more walking out on people, and treating them as they deserve.

She hates me Part 1, She hates me Part 2, She hates me Part 3.

Is she my soulmate?

Do soulmates exist? Maybe, but I am not a buyer. I think what happens when we meet our 'soulmate' is that we click on more than the usual number of levels.

We can all list the physical and abstract qualities to which we are attracted, or from which we run. Meet a person for the first time, and we instantly size up their look, body, eyes, hair, teeth, posture, gait, dress, mannerisms, speech and a million other details that tell us who they are.

Beneath the surface our devious little genes are sizing that person up too, via smell, taste, size, savings account, and so on, in ways of which we aren't the slightest bit aware.

In my opinion, our soulmate is the person from whom we get a thumbs-up from the genetic department, and a big thumbs up from the mental/fantasy/abstract department. Let's call that overt attraction. It follows (and is highly likely) that more than one soulmate exists for all of us: the trick is to find them.

But that isn't the end of it either. There is a third part of our lives that must be in congruence with the prospective partner, what I will call our active life. That's the side of living that includes family, friends, work, living arrangements, and all the maze-like rabbit-holes we create, mostly in our imagination.

If the first two attractions (genetic and overt) agree that the person before us is a tasty morsel, the active life might prevent getting together. The reason could be anything from an upcoming vacation, to a promotion at work, to a friend who is very demanding on our time. These are the things we have chosen. Logically, we can un-choose them so as to be more available, but that is a conscious action. Also, the decision to un-choose parts of our active life so as to allow the new person in can take time.

Which is my point. If our soulmate walked in the door right now, our active life might not be aligned right now despite all the other green lights. Which is why, as Miss A pointed out, the timing is critical. And if that is the case, the most important thing to say is: I think this might work, but I just need time to undo some other knots in my life. Maybe. But not now.

She doesn't like you Part 1, She doesn't like you Part 2, She doesn't like you Part 4.

It's not me, it's you.

Much to my cost, I have been a relationship equivocator. I have, in the past, been the one to say maybe when I really meant NO. Even when women have handed me an out - do you think this is working? - the words in my head, the right words, the accurate words, didn't form. Instead, I have avoided the disagreement, and attempted to smooth over the problem.

I do not know where this avoidance behaviour comes from. There must be something deep-seated in those of us who work this way, because I know it's almost always injurious. For us, and the other party.

There is no logic in trying not to offend the other person. If they are upset at something we know or feel, it's their problem. Not communicating our heart and mind only delays the inevitable. And in the meantime, the truth will always - ALWAYS - squeeze its way out of us in some form or another.

In the universal sense, the truth is always better than a cowering lie. Trying to massage the message to make someone else feel something is equivalent to pushing the proverbial piece of string. It never works.

She doesn't like you Part 1, She doesn't like you Part 3, She doesn't like you Part 4.

Why doesn't she like me?

It's brutal isn't it?

I am not so sure. If you're in sales, you will know that there are three possible answers to the question:

So, would you like to place your first order?

Yes, maybe, or no.

Yes and no are equal best; yes because you have either a new or renewed customer, and no because it means you won't waste any more time with them. If they're not interested, they're not interested.

Maybe is the worst. Maybe probably means no, but they don't have the balls to say so. I treat maybe as no.

In the dating world, maybe is the worst answer as well. Maybe can mean an entire universe of things from:

I would like to date you but I am married,

to

I would go out but you are an inch too short.

If you ask the maybe person what their reason is, just as with a sales prospect, they're unlikely to tell the exact truth. Many people aren't good at saying no, nor are they good at telling you why. It's a human quirk, I think.

That's my theme for this week: Why do we dodge the truth with the opposite sex?

She doesn't like you Part 2, She doesn't like you Part 3, She doesn't like you Part 4.

Love Bite

If you're less extreme about biting that our Fang Banging friends, there is a lot of lucid information out there.

This article is the best overview.

Clear from everything I have read is that there are shades of biting. One person's "OW!" might tell you to stop, while another's "Owwwwwww" might be an invitation to continue.

Because sexual biting verges on the violent, it is clearly worthy of talking about first, or taking very slowly if you're experimenting for real.

As a kind of abbreviated "How to Bite" guide, this is pretty good. It talks about hair-pulling, too.

The categorization and naming conventions of the Kama Sutra and other Sub-Continental texts sits oddly with me, but the concepts are often spot-on. I like this piece. (Scroll the page down.)

And here are some more biting ideas.

Just a thought: biting cupcakes is not nearly as good for you as biting your partner.

Biting Part 1, Biting Part 2.

Fang Bangers

Let's take things to the extreme.



As an example of sexual biters, Fang Bangers are in a class of their own. The Urban Dictionary sinks their teeth into a definition or two:

A sub-sect of gothic vampire culture, consisting of mostly, but not limited to, blacks and latinos.

They are characterized by custom fangs, theatrical contact lenses. Their form of dress consists of hip-hop/raver/fetish gear, all black or UV responsive.

Vampires are chic. The Twilight books and movie, and HBO's True Blood are evidence that the bloody link between lust and biting might be fanciful, but connects with a lot of people.

Much is happening here. There is the anthropomorphization of bats. Then there is the notion of blood as convenience food. Add to that the willingness of BYTs* to be a part of this ghoulish world, and we have a bite-based social group verging on the popular.

I fear however that Fang Bangers will only ever be a minority of women, more's the pity. What more to say about them? They're sexy folks who can't get by without a regular infusion of biting and bonking. Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Next post I'll examine more mainstream bangers, those who perhaps don't seek sustenance from their partners' bodily fluids.



*Beautiful Young Things

Biting Part 1, Biting Part 3.

Bite Me. Please.

Consider the following statement:

Oh, man, I tell you, once we were alone she turned into an animal. An animal!

What starts with a kiss can lead to a nibble. A nibble can turn into a bite. And a bite can lead....well who knows where a bite can lead, because at that point the beast is uncaged, and the primal takes over.

A tacit agreement exists between consenting adults, that, during sex, the usual polite artifice of civilized people can be tossed aside. Turning into an animal is a good thing, viz: the above statement. We want our sex to be fundamental, so we can access the very deepest urges.

Pain - giving and receiving - is a part of our psyche. A little pain goes a long way towards heightening the pleasure of sex, especially I think for women. Even the thought of a little pain is a turn-on for lots of you, although how many admit to it is a question.

Male cats bite during sex. Bats do it. And I am led to believe there are creatures called vampires who are nourished by it. So this is Biting Week at K&B. I invite your participation.

Biting Part 2, Biting Part 3.

Kissing Cousins

A friend has a world-class nose. Yes, it's cute from the outside, but she must have a freakishly large number of receptors up there, because she smells the world better than a bloodhound. Not only that, but she can apply word labels to the smells, which means she can verbally communicate smell to dopes like me. It's a rare talent.

I tell you, she should be working designing perfumes or judging wine. I'm in rhino-love.

Presumably this is good: she says I smell like popcorn. My immediate mental image (smellage?) is of movie theatre lobbies, which stink of grotty carpet and that stuff they call popcorn. I hope I remind her of home-popped corn. In either case, it's way better than being told I remind her of sauerkraut or space junk. (Not that I know how space junk smells. I just don't want to have the dreaded 'space junk' rep.)

This being Kiss Week @ K&B, I have been investigating just why we kiss.

Scientific American has a detailed and fascinating article. Astound friends with facts like 80% of us tilt our heads to the right.

Here's another short piece that talks about the importance of smell in kissing. During a pash session, women (unconsciously) sniff the man out for immune system compatibility.

Apparently my immune system is made from corn. Does that mean I'm compatible with women from Iowa? I wonder.

Kiss and Tell

I often wish I had a Secret Squirrel video camera, a fabbo gadget worthy of James Bond. I would use it to record conversations with men when they're talking about sex, and show the results to women.

Huge generalization, but there would be basically three kinds of conversations:

Did you boff that girl, what's her name, Laura, last night?

Nah. But I'll be upending her real soon, I know it.

Cool.

~~~~~~~~~~

Or, alternatively:

So did you boff that girl, what's her name, Laura, last night?

Yep.

How was it?

Let me tell you my friend, I am the studdliest of studs.

Is she any good in the cot?

Yep.

~~~~~~~~~~

And finally:

Did you boff that girl, what's her name, Laura, last night?

Nope. She basically told me to get lost.

Shit.

Yep.

~~~~~~~~~~

I can tell you that talking in depth about sex isn't something most guys I know are good at. When we're shooting the breeze, the concern is more about being seen to be potent - the strength or flavour of the encounter (or any other nuance for that matter) is less important than the fact that we're getting some.

Opening up with details leaves us vulnerable to criticism of our technique and possible derision. It's the ego talking, but we tend to think of ourselves as Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont; sexually expert, devastatingly knowledgeable, and utterly irresistable. Plus an expert in Latin.

It's a terrible conceit, and obviously fallacious. But admitting to a buddy that you fumbled her bra clasp, couldn't find her clitoris, almost shoved it up her arse, and couldn't figure out if she came would be way too embarrassing.

Instead we say next to nothing. Life is simpler that way.

French Kissing

There appears to be a lot of confusion about just what constitutes French Kissing. One definition is 'Upstairs shopping for downstairs business.'

Why it is called 'French' as opposed to 'Manhattan Kissing' or 'Inuit Kissing' is a mystery.

Wait, it couldn't be Inuit Kissing, because those folks rub noses. Ah-hah.

By inference then, 'Manhattan Kissing' would be 'Mid-Town shopping for Wall Street business.' Hey, I just think I've coined a new term, although it puts a new spin on 'working on Wall Street.'

Where were we? Ah, French Snogging. I have no idea why this is such a problem; it is full-lipped kissing with tongue interaction. Get it while you can.

Get a Room

You're out having a few drinks, someone across the room catches your eye, and before long you're talking. Soon enough the magic pot of sexual chemistry is bubbling away and biology takes over. It's why singles (and cheaters) go out, for just this moment.

Nature's signal to move somewhere more private is when someone yells out "Get a room!" As a guy, I can tell you this is a badge of honour, a bolster to one's sex-ego. That phrase says "Goal!" with witnesses.

But where to go to keep the juice going? Your place? My place? A motel? The Marriott? All have problems. The chandeliers are being cleaned at my place. Apparently your place is hosting your brother and his buddies on leave from the Navy. Motel lighting will ruin even the most ardent amorous mood. Hotels are dumbly expensive for a tryst.

If we were in Japan, we would go to the closest love hotel. These brilliant places reflect the wonderfully pragmatic and chicly crowded Japanese urban culture. People have sex during the day. People need a venue for such assignations. Ergo, the Love Hotel.

As a business model, it's a winner, but I wonder if it would play in the US?

All you ever want to know about how to patronize a love hotel.