Friday, April 29, 2011

Friday Fluffer - The Vascularized Vagina


Ridiculous political correctness aside, it seems that scientific evidence falls heavily on the side of the male ejaculate being particularly good for women. Listen to your vascularized vagina, ladies, kitty knows what she wants.

As far as humans are concerned, you may think you know all about sexual signals, but you’d be surprised by new findings. It’s been known since the 1990s that heterosexual women living together synchronize their menstrual cycles because of pheromones, but when a study of lesbians showed that they do not synchronize, the researchers suspected that semen played a role. In fact, they found ingredients in semen that include mood enhancers like estrone, cortisol, prolactin, oxytocin, and serotonin; a sleep enhancer, melatonin; and of course, sperm, which makes up only 1%-5%. Delivering these compounds into the richly vascularized vagina also turns out to have major salutary effects for the recipient. Female college students having unprotected sex were significantly less depressed than were those whose partners used condoms (Arch. Sex. Behav. 2002;31:289-93). Their better moods were not just a feature of promiscuity, because women using condoms were just as depressed as those practicing total abstinence. The benefits of semen contact also were seen in fewer suicide attempts and better performance on cognition tests.



Bottoms Up, Hot Bitches.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Bad Girls - To Emulate or Not?



Tuesday night I took this book on a tour of some local bars. A book might appear an odd choice of drinking companion, but this one is different - it's entitled "Bad Girls" and sports this alluring cover photo.

People were interested.

I also asked folks if they knew any of the bad girls listed in the index, and if they were experienced with them. Everyone had at least one story to tell.

So it's about how less adventurous, milquetoast girls can learn the man-eating ways of sexually confident, experienced women, right?

The full title is:

Bad Girls: Why Men Love Them & How Good Girls Can Learn Their Secrets. Emphasis mine.


Nope. Nothing of the sort. It is in fact a mirror image of that idea, describing in detail the sub-species of Bad Girls (The Gold-Digger, The Sex Siren,the Ball Buster, The Husband-Stealer etc) and how men can identify a weakness for - and avoid falling for - any of them.

Now that's useful information.

Important Point: The research behind the concepts presented is thorough and well written. Even more valuable is the way in which the author, Dr Carole Lieberman, carefully explained the vulnerabilities of certain men to the "attractions" of specific "bad girls". I found myself described in there, and the type of Bad Girl who fits my weakness.

Guess which. * LOL*

So, I have no hesitation recommending this book to anyone interested in understanding some of the possibilities as to why men choose certain women, AND why women end up clearly fitting some of the Bad Girl stereotypes.

That said, here are some random thoughts:

~ I wonder if this book stands out because Dr Lieberman is a psychiatrist, NOT a psychologist.

~ Whomever came up with the sub-title had not read one word of the book. It just doesn't fit.

~ I remain a little confused as for whom the book was written; men or women or both?

~ Pet Peeve: Editing and Layout. If the book is meant as a How-To, I think it needed a whole lot of creative input. As it is, page after page of standard text alternating with italicized real-life research excludes the kind of reader who might want to dip in-and-out. Fortunately, the writing style is clear, but it could work so much better. SO much better. It succeeds almost despite itself.

~ As an example of the poor production values, chapter commencement pages listed in the index do not match the actual pages in the book. Lazy and sloppy.


But these are all quibbles about publishing, not the material.

Worth your time.


Bad Girls. Why Men Love Them & How Good Girls Can Learn Their Secrets, By Dr Carole Lieberman.

ISBN 978-2-923865-12-6

Published by Cogito Media Group.





Bottoms Up, Good Girls.

wombat@kissnblog.com

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Are You In The Dating DMZ? How to Avoid Machine Guns and Barbed Wire.

I define the Dating DMZ as the space between where you are and where you want to be. Sometimes the space is wide, and sometimes it's narrow, and oftentimes you'll never know which it is until you're in it. Which is why we need some guidance so as to avoid being killed in there.

The most famous DMZ lies between North and South Korea. I've been there, a couple of times, and it's a pretty darned scary place. The funny thing is that the name is devastatingly misleading. Yes, the space between the two sides is allegedly free of military activity, but the two borders defining the zone are as full of stuff that'll kill you as anywhere on earth. (Short of a Bangkok titty bar.) It's a sleight of hand trick actually designed to divert your attention from the real action, which is the hundreds of mean-eyed dudes with machine guns trained on your bod.

It's a no-man's land, desolate and dangerous, with a disingenuous name.

Dating doesn't inevitably mean a transit of the DDMZ, but it's the rare bird who finds themselves in safe territory all the time. The nature of dating is that it involves risk, like all human activity. Finding and managing the amount of risk we can handle is an individual process; we're all up for challenges in different ways at different times of our lives. I'll give you an example:

I once was acquainted with a guy, back in Australia, who sized up his prospects for sex in an age-old way. He figured that if he asked enough women, he'd eventually get all the trim he wanted. His name was Alistair, and he asked pretty much every woman he met (socially, I hasten to add) if they'd be interested in getting together. He risked rejection in order to exercise his penis....a LOT of rejection.

Years after I first met Alistair, I ran into a friend who knew him better than me, and we discussed his case. Turns out that his success rate was much, much higher than we thought. Around one in ten women took him up on his offer. Maybe that doesn't surprise you - it does surprise me.

Alistair understood the DDMZ because he crossed and re-crossed it so many times. But he never lingered, because he was on his way to the other side, moving through increasingly familiar territory between the place he was prepared to risk being, and returning home. After a while, he became so familiar to sentries on either side, they both treated him like a 'friendly'. After all, everyone knew what he was up to, it wasn't like he kept anything secret. He would have made a great double agent.

The lesson of Alistair, the man who understood the DDMZ better than anyone I know, is to be on your way to the maximum point of risk, or on the way back. He never lingered when he was on a mission. He was either sprinting towards the target he'd chosen, or he was dancing around, changing direction. He decided what he wanted, then figured out a way to get there, and what he was prepared to do before retreating. Remember, too, that retreating is just attacking from a different direction. There is absolutely no harm in retreating, it's information about both your method of attack and your risk level.

Alistair's case is extreme, of course. He didn't use subtlety or finesse, but he knew what he knew about women and about himself. He was unembarrassable, and he knew that he was playing a numbers game. Voila, his DDMZ shrank to almost nothing.





Bottoms Up, Dating Warriors.

wombat@kissnblog.com

Friday, April 22, 2011

Wombatgram #18 - The Dumping Olympics



No reason not to make rejection a form of sport, right?



Click on Wombatgram for bigger version.




Bottoms Up, Athletes.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Changes, Not the David Bowie Kind.

Awesome though female liberation is, it has a few kinks. (No, not those kind of kinks you Ponyplay/S&M/Doctor&Nurse/PublicSex/Latex/Goretex/Wrapping/Bondage/Lingerie/Swinging devotees, you.)

Kinks that spring to mind are the kind which lead to misunderstandings. Mostly they're misunderstandings of intention, along these lines:

He's cute and I like him. Why won't he fuck me?

Right, let us begin.

1. He might want to fuck you, but just not right now. No reason.

2. He might want to fuck you, but wants to make sure...of something he might not be able to articulate.

3. He might want to fuck you, but wants you to stop being the aggressor so he can do it his way.

4. He might want to fuck you but just has a lot on his mind right about now.

5. He might want to fuck you, but needs time to work out something you know nothing about.

6. He might want to fuck you, but wants to tell you something first.

7. He might want to fuck you, but wants to make sure it doesn't stop at one.

8. He might want to fuck you, but within the confines of some kind of commitment.

And so on.

Or he might NOT want to fuck you, but can't bring himself to say the words. No man wants to say:

I don't know why, but I cannot fuck you.

Nothing good ever comes from that statement.






Bottoms Up, Kinksters.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Cubism and Surrealism in Dating

Hi. My name is Wombat, and I'm powerless. I'm addicted to women.

Group replies, together, out of synch, mumbled:

Hi Wombat.


I believe that we choose nearly all our behaviours, with some obvious exceptions. The mating imperative is one area in which we're strongly coded for irrationality, stories of which we could all relate. Over time our genetics over-ride any kind of logic or abstract higher-brain function, but not without a fight, and not in every case.

An example in my own life is that of two extremes created entirely in my imagination. If I encounter a woman I think is attractive, my head goes one of two ways: I'll either think she's so far out of my league that I won't bother approaching her OR I'll immediately imagine us together as a couple and how that would look and feel.

Both reactions are illogical, both reactions are destructive.

The mental tussle arises because of those competing priorities we all keep upstairs. There's that deep-seated reproductive urge fighting with all the cultural curlicues created higher up in the brain, the latter of which are so often ephemeral, tied up with ego and snippets of half-learned mind-junk.

Back to basics for me. All I can control is my own thinking, which needs to be stripped of expectation and artifice.



Hello, my name's Wombat. What's yours?




Bottoms Up, Clear-Headed Thinkers.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Disbelief



I shake my head and close my eyes in disbelief at how we proceed to find partners. We go looking - actively looking - for complete strangers and give them the once-over with an eye to compatibility. We imagine, project, hope, wish, long, mask and guess our way to deciding that he or she might be a good-un, despite evidence to the contrary.

I'm criticizing me and my own behaviour, in which I can confidently assume others indulge.

From my own experience, a few words from someone familiar with dating and mating ins-and-outs would have been infinitely valuable. Parents are supposed to give us a clue about all this...a problematic concept if ever. Relationship education exists, but we need to learn earlier than the point at which, say, I would turn to self-help books or seek the advice of trusted peers.

So that's the thing - trial and error, mistakes and recovery, and hope and optimism are the three Donkeys of Dating Discovery, and 'twas ever thus.

Or is that six donkeys?




Bottoms Up, Eternal Learners.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

An Early Tell

I opened the car door for her. She got it, I closed it. I walked around to the other side, got in, put my seatbelt on.

Funny, she said. I pictured you in a BMW Five-series.



Oh, my. Talk about Red Flags. Had I been thinking straight, I would have said good-bye then and there.







Bottoms Up, Paragons of Hope Over Experience.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

IRL v Online Dating



Serendipitously, my media maven friend Annalis Clint sent me a link to a very good article about the virtues (or not) of online dating.

I have never been a fan. If for no other reason, paid onling dating sites are a rip-off:


Marcus Frind, CEO of PlentyofFish.com, crunched the stats on his blog and found that 1 in 1,369 dates leads to marriage on Match.com. That’s $83,000 in subscription revenue for every marriage. If someone told you those odds at the beginning, would you still want to sign up? Considering the ratio of marriages to revenue, we think most people would expect a higher delivery rate.


Mr Frind is hardly a disinterested observer, but doubtless the numbers are representative.

In any case, I heartily recommend you read the article. Online dating does not work.



Late edit: In news just unearthed, it seems the online dating experience deserves a lawsuit. My, my.

LA Woman Sues Match.com





Bottoms Up, Real Lifers.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Inquiring Minds



First dates are a stressful beast, best avoided. All very well, but unless you're already with someone or have taken a vow of celibacy, skipping the Big Number One is impossible.

Oh, we could try some word-play, by calling it "meeting for coffee" or "getting together for a cocktail" but we all know a first date by any name is still a first date: in essence, it's a job interview.

Separating the first date from merely meeting someone is the unspoken fact that sex is on the table. Perhaps not immediately, but at some point, both parties are sizing up the other as not only a potential day-to-day partner, but a sexual partner as well. Let's say that if sex isn't on the table, it's certainly lurking under the table.

Subtext. Sex is the subtext on all first dates. Which is a pity, because we all know that thinking about sex - even peripherally - leads to dumbing down the rest of our thought process. When Mr Penis or Misses Ovaries take over, deep thought is deep-sixed. That's my experience.

In any case, I'm trying to re-formulate the First Date, thinking of ways to make it less charged, and more like two people spending time in new company. If you have any ideas about the kind of questions you would like to ask, or would like asked of you on such a date, I'd be keen to know.

How can we connect and communicate better?





Bottoms Up, Thinkers.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Intel Inside

Being a bloke I sometimes feel that I'm a molecular computer running a software loop that goes something like this:

hips pussy skin smell belly round soft bumfluff warm breast curve nipple reaction breath sweet wanting heartrate arch desire wanting touch lips quiver...

...and so on for ever and ever and ever until I think I'm gonna burst.

In the most literal way this is a BASIC male program, pretty much always running in the background. Yes, that was a computer joke. This least subtle of routines loads when we wake up in the morning, and is only shut down when we go to sleep. And sometimes not even then if my recent dreams are any guide.

If we are just a mushy biological processor, we run all kinds of weird and sometimes incompatible software. For instance, there's the code that allows us to blog about the fact of the many disparate inputs to attraction and sex, which is a pretty high-level thing. Then there is the code that compels (dudes) to hip thrust and ejaculate.

No doubt which of those instructions to the CPU has precedence.

Anyway.

Did I tell you that my current fascination with the female form is hips? Goddam, they're good.




Bottoms Up, Hipsters.

Friday, April 08, 2011

Friday Fluffer - The Over/Under



My Friend Tim: So, did those girls from the tiki bar on Sunday call you?

Wombat: Yep. Vicki, the older brunette called on Monday night.

My Friend Tim: Hmmm, it's always the ugly one.

Wombat: Pity it wasn't the cute blonde.

My Friend Tim: I guess, but you don't want her either.

Wombat: No?

My Friend Tim: No, dude. Fierce overbite. You can do better.




Friends always see what we cannot, no matter how irrelevant.





Bottoms Up, Friends.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Grapeshot of Wrath


Women dumbfound me in all kinds of ways, but the one way to completely flummox me is to get angry. Behind every pissed-off woman is a fearful and clueless man. That would be me.

Anger is one emotion that highlights the power a woman can wield over a man, should she so choose. Get wild-eyed and emotional, and your man will do anything to make it go away.

Now this might strike you as being counter to type. You know, blokes are supposed to be the violent ones - we make war, we play bone-breaking games, we kill to eat. While we're out being destructive, women are at home being nurturing, compassionate and seeeeeeeensitive, right?

That's right as far as it goes. But there's a difference between violence and temper. One can be violent without emotion. Civilization is in part the history of men creating rules and conventions that channel and codify our inbuilt aggression. Boxing us in like that prevents us committing dopey violent acts in a fit of pique, and a good thing it is. Brawls never seem as compelling the next morning.

Which is why a lot of us are unsure what to do when our beloved is shouting and being volcanic. There are no rules. There's no tribunal to consult, no referee to coolly determine who's offside and what the penalty is.

Any tips from woman on smart courses of action are welcome.




Bottoms Up, Plate Chuckers!

Sunday, April 03, 2011

One Fine Day


The downside to singledom is not knowing if you'll ever meet anyone. The upside is that you will. Or at least you might.

Aphorisms abound:


...you will find someone when the time is right...


...someone will pop into your life when you least expect...


...act like you don't care, and you'll find the person who will...


etcetera.

Trouble is that none of this advice helps with the actual meeting of new people, the lifeblood of we on-our-owners.

Given that finding people takes actual effort - as opposed to sitting on your duff and scrolling through yet another dating website - it helps to reframe the argument, viz:

Being single isn't about being without; it's a hike through interesting countryside, sometimes barren, sometimes lush, sometimes completely unremarkable. But one day the most wonderful vista will open up, and you'll want to stay.





Yeah, I know. Pathetic, eh?




Bottoms Up, Searchers.