Goo-mah

My friend George has a goom. Perhaps I should capitalize that: my friend George has a Goom.

I know this because she arrived during our second drink this evening, a delightful woman of engaging conversation and charming manners.

Men have taken mistresses since they were first able to sneak away and inveigle themselves up the skirts of other women. No surprise there. But a certain kind of man takes a mistress - or two - and I'm wondering why.

For George, I'm pretty sure it's because of his distant marriage. That's no excuse, of course, but he'd be on the lookout for interested women no matter his marital status. Somewhere in his DNA lies the predisposition to move beyond social norms. Look, and take.

Just as there are certain men who take a long-term mistress, so there are women who oblige. In George's case, it's a long-term sexual liaison with no expectation of anything more. They're both satisfied with furtive social meetings, like tonight, and equally hidden sexual congress.

Under the Wombat Rule that no-one does anything for nothing, it's clear that they're both getting something from all this. And not for the short term, either.





Bottoms Up, Tony Soprano.

Friday Fluffer - Worst Lovers

Photo credit

We're all supremely fond of generalizations and unfair national slights. Which is why I've resurrected the results of a poll from a couple of years ago.

Fifteen thousand women were (allegedly) asked about the sexual skills of men organized by country. I guess the premise is that culture creates good or bad bonkers.



WORLD'S WORST LOVERS:

1. Germany (too smelly)

2. England (too lazy)

3. Sweden (too quick)

4. Holland (too dominating)

5. America (too rough)

6. Greece (too lovey-dovey)

7. Wales (too selfish)

8. Scotland (too loud)

9. Turkey (too sweaty)

10. Russia (too hairy)

And just for fun,

WORLD'S BEST LOVERS

1. Spain

2. Brazil

3. Italy

4. France

5. Ireland

6. South Africa

7. Australia

8. New Zealand

9. Denmark

10. Canada




Bottoms Up, Critics.

Charm is Over-rated

Picture credit

Observations of the qualities women choose in men:

~ charm is over-rated, as is persistence.

~ the ability to take charge and swift decision-making are useful abstract qualities.

~ height and dress sense are valuable physical assets.

~ sexual skill is of middling importance.

~ either youthfulness OR mature mastery are equal attractors.

~ being a kind of benign dictator works a treat.

~ uniforms, of a military bent, or a nice suit, make a difference.


Romantics like me don't stand a chance in front of this. A man who communicates, has a sense of humour and is self-deprecatory is SO underwater in the dating game, like so much by-catch.

Wherever did I get the idea that these things were valuable?




Bottoms Up, Survivors.

Man Wrangler

Picture Credit

Wine and company bend my mind towards unfeasible projects. The most recent of these - pursuant to Friday night's conversation - is the idea of a Man Wrangler.

Every single person complains of the lack of prospective partners at some point. It's natural. The older we are, the more human nature works against us. Not only do we tend to be more picky, but so does everyone else. (SO unfair if you ask me. OTHER people should be able to see through my faults, but I reserve MY right to discriminate immoderately.)

AND there is that semi-trailer of life baggage that keeps following us around. As soon as I think I dropped that thing at a parking depot somewhere, I turn around and DAMN! - there it is again. As much as we might want to be the tractor part ONLY of the tractor-trailer, that sneaky thing keeps finding us.

My complaint is that wherever I go, it's always a brodeo. (Noun credit: Mr Nights.) Like a man in a desert, all I see is sand in the form of dudes. However, opportunity is often found by turning adversity upside-down. (Invert, always invert.)

What I should be doing is creating my own database of men with whom I can hook up whatever single women I know. Use the law of supply and demand to my advantage, by making ME the go-to guy for single ladies around town, that's the plan.





Bottoms Up Matchmakers.

Energy Drinks

Picture credit, Samantha, archetypal hotness.

My friend Samantha and I had drinks tonight. She's looking as foxy as ever, which does nothing to explain why it's been nearly three months since last we took wine.

Or maybe it does.

If you're a single guy (like me) and a single woman (like Sam), there's an energy surrounding the two of us, like any energetic non-related couple. We share singlehood and all the mysteries THAT presents, for better or worse. We're like brothers-in-arms in the dating wars.

Sam's friend Maria happened along, so your humble correspondent was now surrounded by primo tail - not to disparage the ladies. Men think of all kinds of stuff in terms of meat and lobster metaphors. Surf and turf isn't simply a dining concoction.

I asked Maria to name the five qualities she sought in any man with whom she might share a future. She said:

:-> honesty
:-> integrity
:-> morality
:-> ability to communicate
:-> extremely hot bod

One of these is not accurate.

The point is that every woman wants - in a man - the opposite of those characteristics she's been stung by in previous men. No surprise, and no obvious insight into human nature there. What's troubling is by working to find the opposite of what attracts us, we go all around the world...and end up in exactly the same place.





Bottoms Up, Samanthas.

Yin and Yang - Wombatgram #14

Vive la différence, all y'all.


Click on the Wombatgram to enlarge.




Bottoms Up Contrasters.

The Pits

Armpit tattoo photo credit.

It's automatic, I can't help it. Whenever I see a woman's exposed armpit, I figure she's thinking sexy thoughts, because I sure am.

How many women understand the Power of the Pit? Of all the green lights, the deliberate exhibition of her armpit is a double-strength sign of sexual interest. Hands above head in a sleeveless top, she's game for it, baby.

Either that or she's bored as hell and just wants to stretch.

Armpits raise all kinds of emotions around the obvious issues: hair and smell. Men talk about these lofty matters all the time. Just the other day I had a long chat with a mate about how to deal with the situation when you make a move on a woman only to find she's hiding a couple of musk rats under each arm. I said to grin and work through; he wanted to catch and release those things.

Each to their own, right?

One woman friend had a - short-term - lover who got off on licking her armpits while he was fucking her. Problems here include the obvious one of the non-deliciousness of anti-perspirant.

As I say, each to their own.

In any case, if women don't realize how sexually loaded their armpits are, high time they were.




Bottoms Up Pit Warriors.

Friday Fluffer - Meet Mr Sausage

Link to my Xtranormal page.

Greg and Greta discuss the finer points of carry-on luggage versus checked bags.




Bottoms Up, Mr Sausage.

Sexual Non-Sequiteurs

A mental block.

This business of what to say during sex is becoming a hurdle. A second-hand Hollywood/porn soundtrack fills my head, so I'm no longer sure I can mouth or grunt expressions of...whatever it is we're supposed to emit during the bonk.

This is the difficulty with an analytical viewpoint - it's not sexy.

When one should be breathlessly imploring:

Oh, My GOD, your pussy is just so VELVETY and tight and you're so HOT and SEXY...

etc...

...the calm, detached person's instinct for talking is:

Huh. This feels really good. I wonder how evolution got to the point where a penis snugging into a vagina not only allows for DNA mixing, yet creates emotional satisfaction....

...etc.

You see the problem?

Thinking of dialogue to please the other person doesn't help, because there's no way of knowing (initially, at least) whether she likes:

Oh, yeah, you DIRTY bitch, I know you like it like THIS...

...etc.

Or if she's into:

Darling, let me introduce you to my best friend, Mr Sausage, and how happy you can make him with some light kissing....


etc.




Bottoms Up, You Slutty Bitch You.

The First Sex

FIAT hottie photo credit.

I didn't quite find my point with this post; Stop/Start. How about a fresh start - from the beginning maestro.

Tap tap.

When the time comes for the the first shag, it's best to keep everything pretty simple. In my experience, that is. You horny sexual gymnast kink-monsters with libidos like mountain ranges and parts that never stop can get away with anything. This is your regular, slightly mystified male talking here.

Notwithstanding any prior conversations or imaginings, there is no way to know what she's like when the carnal beast within is released.

:-> She might say she gives the best head in the world, but what's the standard by which we measure that?

:-> Quite possibly she's open to anything you might ask, but how smart is it to ask for sex over a barstool on the very first shot?

:-> She talks a big game about wanting it all the time - alright, let's get a hotel room for a week and check it out.

No. The wise man who is about to dip his wick for the first time shows control by reigning in his outlier predelictions. He captures the black swan and discreetly deposits it in the henhouse for a while. One step at a time, Junior Wombat. The Bonk Bus is best enjoyed as a long ride up the mountain, not a scamper to the top and a BASE jump.


Bottoms Up, Gradual Learners.

Trophy Husband

Q: What does a woman want?

A: A man she can admire, a man she respects, a man she knows is strong.




Q: What does a man want?

A: A woman who admires him, a woman who respects him, a woman who can see his strength.




Bottoms Up, Realists.

Stop/Start

Barbara Bach from Celebs101

Your experience is different, I am certain, but let me tell you about mine. Far from the seamless process presented by porn - and, often, Hollywood - it's messy getting from here to orgasm with a chick. Disjointed. Stop and start, if you like. More like being in Friday night traffic than anything else, sometimes speeding along, sometimes going nowhere.

For a bloke raised on images of Roger Moore as James Bond, ideal sex consists mostly of glib bon mots, double entendres and beautiful women just waiting to be bonked. These women aren't simply willing partners; they're often mute, mostly dressed in haute couture and there TO be fucked.

Movieland seduction is about being the leading man in the presence of a woman. Then it happens. Okay, there's a lull in the action and PHHHwaaarRRRRR, here comes Barbara Bach.

THEN they shag.

From this, it's no wonder we get Austin Powers. The premise is laughable.



Bottoms Up, Bondistas.