I’m pretty sure that it’s a fact somewhere that men marry women because their penis told them to do it and women marry men because they think their hot, funny and/or good providers. If that wasn’t a fact before, it is now.

The first few weeks or months we are on our best behavior while we are learning to play house. We do all the things we thing that exemplify the roles of husband and wife. And, we have a lot of sex. But, the months turn into years and a sort of comfort sets in.

We all go through the typical peaks and valleys, ebbs and flows and other cliché ridden sayings describing the ups and downs of marriage. Marriage takes work, yo. Sometimes, it takes a TON of work.

Us ladies sometimes get complacent (so do men but this article is about being a better wife so…). We get in a routine of marital decomposition that is hard to get out of. So, let’s try some basic golden rules, shall we? I will if you will!

Ladies, stop the nagging. Get off his back. Besides, sometimes when you want something done, it’s just much easier to do it yourself. Except for changing the kitty litter and lifting heavy objects. See me, I’m batting my eyelashes.

Forgive, forget and move on. There, I said it. If it happened a week ago, then don’t bring it up today. Unless he cheated because that’s a different story.

Fight fairly. You can think whatever nasty name you want but keep it tucked away in that pretty head of yours. Except variations on the word douchebag. Because I love that word. You’re welcome.

Tell him that you love him. Unless, of course, you don’t. But listen, we spend all day smothering our children with every ounce of love and affection we have. We forget sometimes that our husbands are just kids in grown up bodies, duh.

Do a little something special for your husband every day. Like, a blow job or cook dinner. Or a blow job.

Keep the romance alive. See previous idea.

Allow your guy to have guy time. It gives us an excuse to have GNO’s!!

Listen ladies, just because we are mind readers doesn’t mean our husbands are. In fact, I’m not always sure they have a mind. So, we have to tell them, sometimes gently, what it is we expect of them. And, we very often, have to remind them daily because they have a tendency to forget. It’s the nature of the male beast.

Believe in him. Let him know you do. Even if you have to keep your fingers crossed behind your back.

Lastly, show him respect. Especially in front of others. In the bedroom, all bets are off, especially if he likes to be spanked.

Now it’s your turn. What do you do to try to be a better wife, assuming it’s something you try to do?

Recent research out of London has shown that chubby ladies have more trouble finding a sexual partner than chubby men on the prowl. Of course, this same research has also shown that chubby men suffer from a higher rate of erectile dysfunction than their fit male counterparts, but maybe the skinny broad they brought home doesn’t really care about that. Did you ever notice how a lot of rich men are on the heavy side?

I can’t believe they spent all kinds of money to research this phenomena.

Really?

The only thing to research for me, is how the heck does it work? I mean with all that fat hanging down- all that space between… I mean, I have seen fat people hug, and their feet are at least three feet apart from each other.

The people at ASKMEN.COM wrote about the difficulties two obese people might have in the bedroom.

They suggest using pillows to prop up, adjust and help. In some cases, that could be a shitload of pillows. They also mention necessary stamina will be required. There was no mention of a fifth meal being served during sexytime.

They do get specific on the positions, like this one:

“The woof appeal…You knew this one was coming, and I know you’re happy to see it here. That’s right; the infamous doggy style is for people of all shapes and sizes, although certain body types may still not be able to pull this one off.
If you have a potbelly that’s tight and reaches all the way down to your lower abdomen, then perhaps the aforementioned positions will be better suited for you. But if your beer belly is mushy and moveable, then turn her around and get cracking.
Place your partner on all fours, and before you let yourself go wild, take the time to caress her back and reach underneath to caress her breasts. Appreciate her body and then go in for the kill. Place your little man inside her and embrace her lower cheeks — and hey, if she’s up for it, give her a little spank for her spunk.”

I don’t know. I have never seen fat dogs go at it – or chubby porn for that matter. Call me closed-minded, but I think if something is a-jiggling that shouldn’t be, I say keep it wrapped up. Or at least close the curtains, Mr. Neighbor.

A resort that welcomes “lifestylers” and an “au naturel-optional” atmosphere? This Titillating Thursday focuses on Desire Resort & Spa a super sexy hotel in Mexico’s Riviera Maya.

Who needs the hot weather in the Riviera Maya? Desire Resort is steaming up the area big time, just by its mere presence. The ultra-exotic, all-inclusive playground is designed for couples (male/female only) hankering for a spicy vacation. Know this from the jump—in order to fully appreciate Desire you have to be open-minded—or at least willing to have your mind opened to new possibilities. As a clothing optional resort, there are naked guests walking around, in the pool, laying on daybeds, etc. If this would be an assault to your senses, best stay at sister property (and only topless optional) Temptations Resort in nearby Cancun. The place is also a hangout for the “lifestyle” crowd (often mislabeled as swingers) who descend upon the resort in organized groups during specific times of the year. Castaways Travel is one such organizer and another is called Temptations. They say the benefit to traveling with their group is ten-fold. You’ll cyber-meet people before your trip, have the host couple on property to help ease you into the environment, get pre-booking discounts, and other perks. The hotel only has 114 rooms, and fills very quickly, so according to Temptations, “If you don’t book with a group, you can be bounced.” That usually means being sent to Temptations Resort or Blue Bay Club in Cancun.

If you do manage to be lucky enough to “get in” Desire, you’ll see a pattern emerge—during the day, the grown and sexy drape themselves on pool or beach cabana beds and loungers, sipping on cervezas or margaritas and having snacks. There may be some beach or pool games, but nothing hyper organized. But Happy Hour at the extra-large rooftop hot tub is a joyous affair indeed. Here, the PDA is public and a choice spot for antics as tame as passionate kissing and as outrageous as full throttle sex on the daybeds surrounding the pool area. Despite the “rule” saying sex is to be performed in the rooms or in the “playroom” next to the disco, it does seem a blind eye is turned once the sun goes down. People meet for dinner at one of several restaurants and then connect later at the disco for “theme night” a chance to play adult dress-up. Whether it’s Leather or Naughty School Girl Night, the fun is seeing adults wearing R and X-rated Halloween costumes. Many guests leave the disco and return to the hot tub for a midnight dip, and it’s said the fun continues well into the wee hours of the morning.

Newbies may initially try to avert their gaze at first, scared to make eye contact, though wearing sunglasses makes it easier (at least during the day). But there’s no need to watch on the down low. Exhibitionism and voyeurism go hand-in-hand at Desire, and if privacy is well, desired, people just go to their rooms. But then you could be anywhere and what’s the point in that?  All-inclusive room rates from: $430 per night/ per couple.

Lana Turner once said, “Gentlemen are patient wolves.”

And I really don’t know what the hell she was talking about- or who. But I feel you, Miss Lana.

All of us with Facebook profiles and twitter feeds- we feel that anonymous poster’s eyes. His sex-laden lingo, his photo in sunglasses on a yacht. They way he doesn’t check the men/women box. The way we can’t see what he’s doing with the other hand as he types to us. The way he offered a comment on a photo and followed up with a personal message, as if you are now real friends, as if you know something more about him. He can spell “specific.” He has climbed the boulder behind you. He shoots with a Canon too.

It could be these little things that connect you. It could be a similar sense of humor, or it could be you are fucking bored and he was there to reply. But here’s the thing. It’s relatively safe. You are probably not even in the same state and you can control the conversation. You can click off and walk away. And unfortunately, you will confuse the message and intent.

How many arguments have you had since using facebook and twitter and texts? I’ll bet quite a few. Sure, these are people you never might have spoken to, but still… you can’t show true emphasis without the personality being appreciated in full- a wide eyed look, the dismissal with a hand wave, the difference between a chuckle, a belly laugh and a nervous titter… lol does not suffice.

Comments in person are simple to understand. Your body gives you away- offering us a glimpse into the depths of the words you utter. I see a hurt little boy abandoned by his mother and belittled by an anger father. I see a suave conniver with a pregnant wife at home who will never lose the babyfat. I see the teenaged boy who never grew up, the old man who yearns to regain his youth – asking for a do-over.

You say, “You are beautiful.” and we smile and nod a thank you, then zip off in our convertible, phone to ear, calling our girlfriends to tell them what the creepy guy in the produce section just said.

And we are wrong.

We should tell you- sincerely- THANK YOU. and we should be able to offer a compliment in return, or a comment.  Such as, “That is so kind of you to say,” or “You have made me smile, I appreciate that.” Because comments are only creepy if you let it come to that.

Remember: You Get What You Give. Give a kind word. Give a smile to a stranger.

Let them figure it out. Be the wolf with dull teeth and arthritic knees, cunning, patient and potentially dangerous.

I told this story to a friend and realized, it might be a good idea to warn those who are thinking about traveling with sex toys while on vacation. Here’s my cautionary tale. Learn from my mistakes!

On my first trip to one of those “wild and crazy” sexy resorts with an “anything goes” M.O.,  I was so gripped by all the rumors and excitement to come that I decided to turn up the heat a notch on what promised to be an already steamy vacation. In a move I was sure would dazzle my husband, I packed a lunchbox (a real one!) full of all sorts of toys and oils (this is important).
The first rule of bringing toys on the road? TAKE THE BATTERIES OUT of anything you’re packing. I forgot this little tidbit.
Second rule? LUBE COUNTS AS A LIQUID. And I’d forgotten to put mine in the mandatory Ziploc bag of my carry-on.  Third
rule? Rethink anything that looks like a weapon. If you really need to go “there”, buy it at your destination. The place we were going to would have totally been fully stocked with all types of accoutrements.

I remembered all of these rules as my bags made their way down the conveyor belt and into the security machine’s black tunnel.
I died a little inside. Okay, now I’m in definite double fault. But to make it worse, just as my bag made its way past the point of no return, I heard some noise. What was that?
I’d soon find out, because my bags were flagged immediately. As the agent brought the suitcase out, I heard it. The bag was VIBRATING. Mercy.
My heart sank. I didn’t want my husband to know what I had yet (surprise?!) so I told him to go ahead through while I endured the checking process.
A non-smiling TSA agent (is there any other kind?), a female, starts going through the suitcase, and so far it’s all lingerie, stilettos, etc. Standard vacation wear, yes? I hoped she would give me a break and let me go quickly, in the name of sisterhood.
Then she got to the lunchbox.
I cannot and will not tell you the plethora of filth I had in that box. Let’s just say “overboard” is too tame. The TSA agent went to open it and I quietly said, “Um. I don’t think you wanna go in there.” She gives me a hard look and says “Why?” I just looked at her and shook my head. Willing her to UNDERSTAND. C’mon, lady, we all know what this is! Naturally, she doesn’t hear my mental shrieks and opens it anyway.

She’s greeted with a big ‘ole “BUZZZZZZZZZZZ” She looks down at it, and up at me. I blink. Say nothing. She says, “I’m thinking you want to take the batteries out of this?” I nod and step forward to remove the damned AAs . I wonder if this is breaking some rule, but I do it quickly and gratefully.
Now you would think this would be end of the experience and we could both put this behind us. No. There’s more. Remember that lube? Yeah, that was another problem.

TSA agent goes back in and I say, “I know what you’re looking for. May I?” Now, normally this is NOT ALLOWED, but we both see that this inspection needs to be OVER. She kind of steps back and I quickly find the 3.3 oz offender, show it to her and she says (with gritting teeth it seems like) “Put it in the Ziploc.”

I do. And wishing and hoping and praying that she just stops looking right the hell now. But, oh, my lady is now in a right mood and it’s not even 9 am yet. So she keeps going inside the box and fishes out..handcuffs. And a badge. Holy crap. I think quickly ‘have I broken a law? Will she think the costumes and restraints are part of some devilish, illegal Ocean’s 14 caper?” I’m sweating now and haven’t even made it to the damned island yet. 

I’m almost certain I heard her say “What the fuuu…?”

But she just shuts the box-of-tricks and suitcase without a word. Not one.  Her colleague runs the bag again through machine. I get the all clear.
The TSA agent gives me a clearance nod and stare that I interpret as “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, FREAK!” and I slip my sandals on and collected my husband who was so engrossed in his mobile (yay, Facebook!), that he hadn’t looked up at all to see what was taking me so long. I smiled as if all was normal and right in the world and didn’t look back at whomever may have witnessed this foolishness.

I also prayed none of them would be on my plane. But then again, if they were heading where I was going, perhaps they wouldn’t have minded any of this at all.

I can remember in high school hearing the stories about how vulgar the boys were in the locker room.  They talked about getting it on with chicks, how they would get to first, second, third and even make a home run with the school bicycle, better known as the girl who puts out.  I can clearly recall sitting around the school cafeteria, giggling about the things the boys would supposedly say in that mysterious room.

As I got older, and wiser, I did learn that the boys were…well…LYING THEIR ASSES OFF!  Telling stories that were totally untrue…that poor girl with the huge boobs, in fact, had slept with NONE of them and to be 100% honest…the most any of them had done by the end of grade 12 was rent a porno or two and hide out in their parents basements.

When I finally moved into my own place and could have whatever conversation I wanted, whenever I wanted, I realized something.  Women talk just as dirty and in fact…even dirtier then men!  We share deeper darker secrets!  We compare penis size and girth.  We discuss technique and lack thereof.  We get down and dirty and we tell it ALL. Yes, boys, the very thing you don’t want to believe we are doing, we are!  If you think we might be telling your dirty little secrets, we are.  If you think we are laughing about how terrible your technique is, we are.

Women, most definitely, are WAY MORE DIRTY than men are when it comes to swapping cock stories.  We also embellish how good we are.  We truly are the BEST sex YOU ever had and really, after us…why else would you want to have sex with anyone else??  The details we share with each other would make a sailor blush, as my grandma used to say.  Get a few glasses of wine in us and the proverbial “gloves” come off and we are full on telling everything from the first kiss to the last kiss.  We share all the nitty gritty details and we love it when we get to BRAG about you!

We aren’t always looking to tell everyone how awful you are.  We truly love to brag to our girlfriends about how amazing the sex is, how good you are at going down, how thick your penis is and the details go on and on.  The very best type of girl talk is when we tell our stories and all our friends look at us and there is a gleam in their eyes, and they say, “YOU are SO LUCKY!”

So, the next time you see us girls huddled around the table, you better hope you brought your A-game last night, because sure as shit, we are spilling the beans with our girls!

Natalie

*images courtesy of Google Images

A woman wrote:

just this monday on my way home a guy i have never met said he would give me 20 bucks for the bra i had on, heck yea said i its an old bra i could use a twent my question is has this happned to any other girls P.S. i took it off in a coffee shop rest room and for thoses that ask ?s im over 40 and im a 38c and it was an underwire type light lavender

I was embarrassed that she had to finish her day braless, dismayed she didn’t know a new one would cost her more, shocked that she didn’t negotiate up, angered that I have never been asked this question and in the end, I felt pity for the man who approached her.

What was he going to do with the bra? Take it home and jack off? Hang it from his ceiling like a modern art installation? Give it to his poor girlfriend, who appeared to be the same size? Or wear it himself?

Not that he’s a cross-dresser. Maybe he needs a Kramer “Bro,” or a Mansierre.

Kramer’s Invention: The BRO

This guy sure seems to be comfortable in his bra and his manliness.

I don’t care what a guy is wearing beneath his power suit, if it makes him feel powerful. I, for one was glad to see a few certain man-boobed golfers wearing supportive garments under their polo shirts on the course this spring.

And yet? I doubt I’d sell them my bra on the ninth hole.

Then again, how much money are we talking?

The nurse led me to the scale, “Real quick, we just need to get your weight.”

I groaned. I’d rather get a pap smear and my teeth pulled. At the same time.

“Only if you don’t look.” I less-than-half joked. She laughed and mentioned how cute she thought my cargo pants were and wondered where I bought them. And then, she proceeded to move the weights on the scale up. And up. As I held my breath, wondering what this stranger, the nurse in a new doctors office, was thinking about my weight as she wrote the less than attractive number down in my new patient file.

When I was checking out of the office, the same nurse who weighed me was there to schedule my next endocrinology appointment. We got to chatting for a moment on the topic of women and how we are our own worse enemies.

So many of us walk with a façade of strength and confidence yet inside we have an ongoing dialog of sabotage.

We believe that other people are looking at us in judgment when in reality, they may just be admiring our hair or our cool cargo pants.

Even worse, we judge ourselves. SO intensely critical of everything about ourselves. Constantly comparing to unobtainable and unrealistic models.

Why? Why can’t we just own our stretch marks, saggy boobs and chiskers? Who cares if Twiggy McTwigson has a perfectly taut and tanned body, even after popping out six babies?

WHY is it that, even in front of our husbands, we become and insecure mess when exposed with the lights on? They’ve stood at the foot of the hospital beds, watching our children emerge. They’ve seen us in positions that no other lover has. Yet, standing up naked and walking to the bathroom after sex is a fate worse than death.

Why is it that we women can’t just accept that someone is admiring our hairstyle and not noticing that the grey needs to be covered-up? Or that a man is checking our backside out because they like when baby got back?

WHY must we be our own worst possible enemy?

We need to start embracing who and what we are and to hell with what anyone else may or may not be thinking.

Step on that scale. Walk naked with the lights on.

Walk proud. Life is short. Be the best you that you can be.

Instead of hiding it, flaunt it.

All this because the nurse just needed my weight for the doctors records. And I still had to remind her that my really cute cargo pants added a couple pounds.

After almost two decades of marriage–I finally revealed the truth to my hubby–I’ve always had a thing for girls. Mind you, I’ve spent our relationship being the “Do Right” woman, bringing just enough spice to keep him interested and yet still feeling like something was missing.  But a year ago, I went a little wild.  Memories came to light and I couldn’t ignore them. The play between me and my teen girlfriends, the making out with that older woman in my college years, all led to me visiting a swing club and seeing if I truly was bisexual.  After a few escapades–nothing to alert Hustler about, but enough to keep under wraps from your immediate family–the answer is yes, I’m almost certain I like to play with both men and women. But as much as I’ve dillied and dallied, I’ve yet to go the whole hog. I’ve read those erotica stories and I know I’ve got some ways to go. However, the most liberating bit of it all? I’ve maturely discussed it with my spouse and he’s given me permission to explore this side of myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited and grateful in my life. So what will I do? I’m not sure. But the plan is to start backwards, to the first woman who introduced me to the pleasures only a woman can give. I’d like you to come with me on this journey and let me know–have you gone through anything similar?

Have you ever heard of someone who just manages to get dates all the time?  I’m not talking about the people who get numerous first dates and no second dates…I am talking about the people who just seem to get dates ALL THE TIME!  In this day and age, it seems harder and harder to meet someone who is intriguing, fun, entertaining, intelligent, outgoing, mentally balanced and financially stable…not rich…but paying the bills and still able to eat out once in a while.

Facebook has taken over the world as the top site for online searches.  Bypassing Google as the number one search engine for topics and discussion.  Why is that?  Probably because we are all like “family” and our recommendations are becoming more and more influential when it comes to decision making.

Facebook is like a family bar-b-que.  You show pictures of your kids, you share recipes, you  post vacation photos.  We invite people into the private part of our lives on Facebook and share, in our status updates everything that is going on, and we all know someone who has no filter or edit button before they post their status right?

Getting a date from a friend of a friend on Facebook can be easy, if you know how to do it!  Here are some simple suggestions for how you can go about finding that perfect date on Facebook.

First, you can’t just friend someone and then ask them out.  When you are friending someone you don’t know personally, send them a message along with your friend request.  Something like this usually works well:  ”Hey, I am a friend of John’s too and I saw that you were talking to him about your vacation to Cozumel!  I love to travel too and have been to Cozumel.  Did you get to visit the amazing seafood restaurant on the main street?”  Or whatever the case may be.  Open your request with a common link, you friend, followed by a common interest that you both seem to have…travel, sports, food.  Don’t just dive in with a juvenile “You’re hot!” type statement, guaranteed, she’ll block and report you!

Once she/he has accepted your friend request, be sure to have a look at their page and take some time to look at photos, look at things they are posting on and reading in the notes.  Nothing is more frustrating than having to play 21 questions when the answers are obvious.  If they have kids, it will show in their pictures or in statements they make.  If they are divorced or never married…be sure to pay attention to those hints that are on the page.

Take a look at the section that tells you what she’s reading, the food she likes, the movies she likes and all those things.  When you get to know her better, you can ask intelligent questions that will help her to determine whether or not you are dating material.  If she is reading War and Peace, and you have only ever read graphic novels, you may want to either brush up on your literary world, or ask her about the book, what does she like?  Why read such a huge story?  What is her favorite part about the book…questions that will give her the opportunity to tell you more about her.

You need to give her at least 6 weeks to get to know you, look at your page, ask questions and find out if you are a good fit for her life.  I highly recommend you do not instantly message her everytime she comes on Facebook, she will think you are a stalker!  If she sees you are online and wants to talk to you, she will post a quick Hello to your IM.  Answer her, even if you are in the middle of something.  A short sweet, “hey great to hear from you.  I am just talking to a buddy right now, is it alright if I message you back in 15 minutes” is all she needs to hear.  Don’t ignore her if she sends you a message and be sure to sign out if you are no longer online.

Treat Facebook dating like your Grandma’s family reunion.  Take it nice and slow, strike up a conversation and get to know someone before you are springing a date on them.  Good luck and let us know how it goes!

Natalie

*image courtesy of Google Images