Law and Order

"In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories."

In the first-time dating arena, the participants are apt to forget two critical yet often overlooked flaws: that we mask the truth about ourselves, and turn a blind eye to the incompatibilities of others. These will emerge later.




Bottoms Up, Optimists.

What Kind of Person is Google?

If we had the power to turn search engines into people, what kind of person would we shake hands with if Google turned biological? IMO, he'd be that guy who sits off to the side of the party, close to the door but away from the kitchen. When people ask "Where can I put my coat?" or "Is this beer cold?" he answers immediately without looking up from his smartphone. An Android, natch. He's dismissively inclined, dispatching we unclever mortals without even a smile.

Google IS a male. He LIKES direct questions, and issues direct answers in response, taking a kind of smug satisfaction in being right. Right is a relative concept in Cyber. Mr Google has no filter for the crass, nor discernment for subtleties of certain kinds of search terms. In that way, he's like a savant - knowledgeable without being smart. Like an immature male. Master Google rather than Mister Google?

And I wonder about his name. Master Google isn't Andrew or Tom or Stavros. He's not Shamal or Riccardo, and he's definitely not a Buddy. I'm tempted to call him Neil. As in Neil Armstrong, another emotionless numbers-butt who did amazing things but looks like a stiff in a bar. Master Neil Google.

I don't know.

What I DO know is that we need a female Google. Girl Google is a more emotionally-grounded and nuanced Google who tends more towards asking how you feel about the answer. We should call it Booble. Miss Booble is the girl-next-door who won the scholarship to a fancy university and ended up turning her pep into $600 per share. Miss B is probably hosting the party. She's catered amazingly - including Inuit appropriate snacks for her friends from Far North Canada - and gets to talk meaningfully with all her guests.

Miss B is totally the girl every man wants, but she is oddly attracted to the moody loner in the corner engrossed in his phone. He's short and cool. He's achingly aloof. He ignores all but her most direct questions. And she wants him with all her being.





Bottoms Up, Searchers.

Mama's Got a Squeezebox

Hope Solo pic credit.

My best information is that women are split between vaginal orgasmobabes and clitoral orgasmobabes. Unevenly split, as it turns out, for a pretty obvious reason: the vagina is not a pleasure centre, whereas the clitoris is.

A brief cruise around my trusted sources (my hairstylist, the supermarket checkout lady this morning) tells us that roughly two-thirds of women need some kind of clitoral love to orgasm. Vaginal orgasm alone is a less visited corner of the sex cave, which is not to say we can't light a candle and go find some. It seems that it's a bit of a squeeze and not so much upside to the journey.

There is, naturally enough, a wrinkle, and it is the G-spot. That's an upside wrinkle by the way. Given the right stimulation, the mighty Grafenburg is the key to vaginal Oh! But given its usual position, can be difficult-ish to engage. (With the penis, that is. Hand-jobs are a different tub of gelato.)

Vaginal elasticity being what it is, there are lots of fun ways to find lady-pleasure. I'm writing here more to blokes than the sheilas - one would hope that chicks already know how to get themselves off. Because I'm entirely representative of most men, I can tell you that we love the challenge of helping you find that beautiful butt-quivering, leg shaking, hip thrusting, pussy-pouting, full-throttle climax. They're awesome! Perhaps we like finding them inside you because ours are so relatively easy to come by.

In any case, guys, be aware that until you find otherwise, the little man in the boat is key to the nuclear reactor...but beyond that, mixing a little G-spot exploration with appropriate partner positioning (downward dog, anyone?) can make her day. And, as you and I know, ours, too.





Bottoms Up, G-Spotters.

A G-Post from long ago. Still good, unless female anatomy has changed.

Lessons from my Cat

Pic credit.

Pain is so closely related to pleasure that we sometimes lose track of where one morphs into the other. Hormones, I guess, all those interesting wee chemicals our bodies live and die by create this intriguing dichotomy.

During sex, with the taught pleasure string and the altered pain threshold, pain and pleasure can even be reversed. In the cool calm of a Sunday morning, HOW WEIRD IS THAT?

Not really so weird, as long as we understand that a good flogging is excellent for one's wellbeing. Alright, so maybe just a light flogging, between consenting adults, with all the usual precautions. Gawd, I can't even make a small joke about the pleasures of a little S&M play without safety caveats. What have our sex lives become now that the Safety Nazis and PC Police are in the corner watching us act out our fantasies?

Oh, did I mention to ALWAYS use a safeword?

Anyway, my cat teaches me much about the nature of women. Cats have claws. Cats, when happy, knead those claws into one's flesh. It's a classic pleasure and pain scenario: my sweet tortoiseshell purrs and punctures my skin. She's in ecstasy, and I'm...happy she's happy. But OUCH, those things are sharp!

Remember, women have claws, too. Thank goodness.





Bottoms Up, Felines!

Smoke and Penises

Elena's pic credit.

A work colleague used the expression "head job" last week.

It wasn't an inappropriate use of the phrase, despite the nauseating level of "sensitivity-" and "harassment-" and sundry other politically correct "-training" insanities that bejewel working life thesedays.

No-one was insulted or harassed or made the victim of smutty innuendo - it was a simple anecdote in which "head shop" was misunderstood as "head job".

Okay, so it's a predictable spoonerism. More of interest is the unfashionability of the term "head job". It sounds so eighties to me - something that a drunk film star would say on a late-night chat show. Or how a teenager would shock its' parents.

"Head job" has, of course, been replaced with "blow job". It's a matter of record that the BJ involves the male ejaculate, whereas giving head is the oral precursor. In a way it reflects the supersize- me mentality: Give me the most of everything you can, whether I can stomach it or not.

Frankly, I'm wistful about the head job. It's a remnant from a (slightly) less debauched time, more about the fun of the penis than the end result. Head celebrates the journey rather than the destination. Head is innocent; blowing is intentional. Head is bucolic. BJs are industrial.

I'm just a funny old romantic.





Bottoms Up, Smokers.

GettingTo Know You

Photo credit.

How long does it take to know another person? If you're dating with a view to marriage, the magic time appears to be around the eighteen month mark. If accurate (or even close) that leads to a few unavoidable truths.

-> If you have been dating someone for longer than two years, and marriage isn't explicitly on the horizon, it probably won't happen.

-> After dating for longer than two years, if the question of marriage appears obliquely or indirectly, you probably shouldn't marry that person.

-> Excessively speedy marriages ie: those within six months of meeting, are likely to founder because you really don't know the other person.

-> When you're dating and learning about your possible long-term partner, often the only way to smoke out problems is to ask pointed questions eg:

~ do you or any of your family have a history of depression or other mental problems?

~ do you have any addictive traits, for instance alcohol, drugs or gambling?

~ do you want children or not, and how many if so?

~ do you think you can change me (other than perhaps my wardrobe)?

~ will you need me to be with you all the time, or will I have some independence?


Too often we float along in a cloud of denial, thinking that when the time comes, it'll all work out.

No it won't.

Life will throw sufficient variables at you - deliberately taking on stuff that doesn't jive with your own life-story is asking for heartache multipliers beyond that which will test any relationship.

Better to face the difficult questions, then say NO, even if your dreamboat appears to be the One. Leave the fog of fantasy and get tough. Relationships don't survive pussies.





Bottoms Up, Tough Guys.

Toss a Virgin into a Volcano

Volcanic woman pic credit.

As a sexo-religious gig, tossing a virgin into a volcano didn't last. I think I know why: Because corrupt Virgin Suppliers began swapping out real virgins for not-so-virgins and the Gods weren't impressed. Hence the death of civilizations based on intact Hymens.

The value of the virgin to Gods escapes me. Are Gods abominated by women the way they are created? Do Gods really believe that female value changes after the first tedious sticky fumbling? Is a womanly use-by date based on busting the seal?

Look, it's pretty clear we've come a long way from dragging unsullied babes to mountain tops for the greater good. Maybe the logic of it - okay, the harvest failed this year...I know! It's because of those damnable virgins! - came to light. Perhaps the correlation factor became obvious. Perhaps the Gods were playing us for fools. Whatever happened, the value of the virgin as an object of summary boiling in molten rock shifted.

Today, I am happy to see that our thinking has changed. The rise of the woman as a sexual being outside of reproduction eclipses the value of the virgin. Any thinking man completely gets the relative value of the orgasmic, enthusiastic and experienced female. Thank the Gods for Cougars and Pumas and all the other Big Pussies of the wild. Let's face it, the taking of virginity is all about domination and subjugation - poor competition for a willing non-virgin.

Willing non-virgins of all ages, I heart you.




Bottoms Up, Lovers.