Do I really have to cut my nails? I just got a manicure.
But why did you have to make that weird moaning sound?
Last night, something horrible happened. I’ve been struggling with this all morning, but I decided it was better to come clean than to live with this guilt for the rest of my life.
I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but I faked my orgasm last night.
Please, don’t cry. It wasn’t caused by your performance. It’s just —me. You know that I was stressed about that last episode of The Undoing. …
Resolutions are like condoms — they aren’t meant to be broken
The question that’s on everyone’s mind this holiday season
Christmas is just around the corner, and that means mouthwatering cuisine, festive boozy drinks, and awkward family conversations. And if you’ve managed to escape your small hometown village — Christmas also means returning to your childhood home for some quality one-on-one time with Mom and Pop.
Which, in most cases, is really nice. Sleeping in. Free breakfast. Someone to wash your sheets and fold your laundry. Ah yes, Christmas time is a great excuse for most of us to revert back to our childish behaviors and patterns.
But if you’re in a relationship or married, then coming back home has its disadvantages. …
I wish someone told me to pee after sex
Or Instagram influences. Or hot girls you see in the club. It doesn’t matter how much you starve yourself or how often you go to pilates; your body probably won’t look the same as theirs. Ever.
It doesn’t have to be a $150 clit sucker, or 14k gold plated dildo. One of those discount bin pocket vibrators will do the trick just fine. But use it on your body a hundred times (and then a hundred times more), so you can figure out what gets you off.
How blessed are we to live in a time where women have a seemingly endless amount of choice when it comes to birth control? Condoms, pills, IUDs, Nuva Rings are just a few options we get to choose from. So if you hate the stench of condoms or go batshit insane from the pill, just know you can always try something new. …
My horrific experience banging to the La La Land soundtrack
Who remembers the good old days where you used to sneak away from your parents to have sex in your car in an empty parking lot?
You know, where you’d plop in your favorite cassette or CD (mine was Weezer), roll up the windows, and jam out with your clam out with your high school boyfriend. All those angsty teenage feelings bubbling to the surface while you grind your private parts to your favorite song.
In fact, I would even burn CDs that had my friend humping tracks on them.
Music was such a part of my sex life that I couldn't imagine doing the deed with a sensual soundtrack in the background. …
My father left my family when I was four years old.
As an only child, it was just my mom and me for about five years until she met my stepfather and remarried. He adopted me at the age of 11, and soon I had a new dad. The three of us were extremely happy together and continue to be close-knit even as I enter my mid-30s.
But when I was a teenager, I noticed that I was different than most of my friends.
I didn’t care about any of the boys in my high school. Instead, I fantasized about older men, like Hugh Grant (swoon) and Jim Carrey (lol but also swoon). I started giving blow jobs at age 13 and had sex with over ten men by the time I turned 20. …
Sorry — your fun, wild, carefree 20s are over
I hate to break it to you — but the wild, sexually-charged, carefree times of your 20s are over.
You’re 30 now. Yep, the big 3–0.
And that means it’s time to welcome an entirely new decade of sexual escapades. In your 30s, there’s no time for childish games or body shaming. There’s no reason to fuck that guy who still can’t locate the clit or that chick who still thinks blow jobs are gross.
Nope, those things are in the past.
Sure, you’ve experimented with new positions, new partners, and new toys when you were younger. But now that you’re older, it’s time to buckle down and get serious about your sexual needs. …
We’re great with our fingers (just ask our keyboards)
Have you ever flipped to the back cover of a book just to admire the author’s bio? Of course, you have.
Writers are some of the sexiest creatures to ever grace the surface of our planet. Not only are we incredibly talented, but we have the ability to capture your attention for hours on end, leaving you smiling, crying, or shaking your knees in anticipation.
So it should come as no surprise that writers also happen to make the best lovers.
Unlike our fellow non-writer brothers and sisters, we have an acute sense for the smallest details. After all, we’re tasked with remembering every single feature, component, and element for all our stories and characters. We know exactly who “has luscious blond locks like the morning sun” or who “can flutter around the room like a delicate butterfly emerging from her cocoon.” …
The other night, my boyfriend and I got into an argument over pasta.
Pasta, you guys.
Sparing you the nitty gritties, I’ll just say it started over which cheese to use when cooking Mac and Cheese. I’m American. My boyfriend’s German — so clearly, he had no idea what he was talking about.
Anyway, a simple discussion over pasta evolved into a massive argument that lasted for two days. We didn’t speak to each other during the day, we didn’t cuddle at night, and we definitely didn’t have sex.
The argument couldn’t have come at a worse time. We had already gone several days without doing the dirty, and my libido was on full-alert. We also share a studio apartment, and thanks to Germany’s quarantine rules, we have been working just 10 feet away from each other for months. …