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Choosing Civility: The Twenty-five Rules of Considerate Conduct Blow Me Blow Me Half Broke Horses The Glass Castle Steve Jobs

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Welcome to my blog on dating in Los Angeles.  I hope you find my real life stories and anecdotes on being smart, sexy and single in the City of Angels as amusing (and tragic) as I do.  If you enjoy reading my posts, please share this blog site with your friends, family, loved ones, and less loved ones.  

Please check out my Sex and the City style novel Blow Me—available now in e-book and paperback on my website and lulu.com. Also available in ebook on amazon.com and Google books.

Entries in Casual Sex (6)


The Condom Thing

What is it with men that they will stick their dick in pretty much anything without a cover and without a thought? I’m often asked when is it okay to discuss the condom thing.  Really? The condom thing? You mean, the “do you trust me enough that I won’t give you an STD” thing? In my opinion, it is never appropriate to discuss the condom thing, because most men (and women) are completely naïve about STDs, their transmission, symptoms and frequency of occurrence.

Did you know, for example, that due to Los Angeles’ prolific porn industry there is a specific California strain of Gonorrhea that is resistant to strong antibiotics such as Levaquin and Cipro, which used to knock pretty much everything out of the park. Since men, women, and diseases know no geographical boundaries, that same strain of the clap can also be found in New York, Chicago, and pretty much every other city in the world—the occurrence rate still being somewhat higher in California. 

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Happy Ending?

I have a girlfriend who used to go to a certain 5-star hotel spa for a weekly massage. I met her a few times after, and she always had a certain bounce in her step and glow to her skin. So, I decided to get a massage at the same hotel. I had a great massage—a bit more expensive than I’d like to pay—but I wasn’t on cloud nine. What was the big deal?

“Did you request Ernesto,” she asked, with a purr. Ernesto? She never told me to request Ernesto. I was curious, so I pried her for more information. Could she possibly be alluding to...? Turns out my girlfriend was getting more than her back rubbed. OMG. “Why?” I asked. She had a boyfriend, albeit he was several years older than her. Why would she let some strange guy get her off on a massage table? “He’s got very skilled hands,” she joked. Enough! I didn’t want to hear it. I put my hands to my ears and started singing “la, la, la, la, la…” to drown out her tales of sexual promiscuity.

Ever since Samantha Jones of Sex and the City went on a mission to get a happy ending massage, the concept has been more intriguing to women—particularly those nearing Cougar age.

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Friend Zone or End Zone?

I was recently a guest on “'Game On”, a radio show devoted to the art of meeting and attracting women. One of the topics discussed was whether a guy should accept just being friends with a girl if his objective is either to be in a relationship with her or to have sex with her. You may think those are the same thing, but they’re not. There are boyfriends and there are fuck buddies. Either way, when a woman says she’d like to be friends she does not want to be your girlfriend or your fuck buddy. It is her non-confrontational way of saying “It’s not going to work out. I think we should move on.”

It could be that she’s seeing someone else, but more likely she just doesn’t consider you boyfriend material. Either she’s not sexually attracted to you or she detected some kind of deal-breaker behavior. You may not hear the “let’s be friends” line until the second or third date, which may add to your confusion. She may not have had enough information to make a decision after a first date, or she wasn’t strong enough to say “no” to a second date. Either way, she’s saying “no” now with “let’s be friends.” It’s important that you hear what she’s actually saying.

Everyone on the radio show concurred that the friend zone does not lead to the end zone. You may think you have your foot in the door, and it’s only a matter of time before she lets you all the way in, but that’s not the case.

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WTF is with DTF?

I love the show Californication. It epitomizes the male perspective on dating in Los Angeles, which can be summed up with not one word, but three letters: DTF

Incase you’re not amongst the hip Showtime viewer demographic, the acronym DTF means down to fuck and is tossed about all too casually by Californication’s Hank Moody and his chunky, bald sidekick/agent, Charlie Runkle, whose only true objectives in life are: a) to make money and b) to get their rocks off—not that there’s anything wrong with either of those objectives, but I think the point of David Duchovny’s character is that he’s supposed to be a pathetic caricature of the Los Angeles male, not an idol. 

There is something wrong with society when a man’s primary concern is whether a woman is DTF.  She’s totally DTF. Is she DTF? Those two girls—DTF? 

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Weiner Roast

Ooh baby, baby... that's one hot tamale.Weinergate, Weinerschnitzel, Add a few marshmallows, and we’ve got a weiner roast! So, Arnold had a kid with the maid and kept it under cover for a decade and Weiner got caught with his pants down. What-ev! All I can say to that is what’s with the tighty-whiteys? Okay, they were gray, but really! You’d think an athletic, sexy man like Weiner would be going commando or wearing Under Armour boxers at the very least. Of course, boxers don’t outline your package quite as brilliantly, but they have much better breathability than Fruit of the Loom. Speaking of fruit, I don’t see much wrong with taking pictures of your private parts—whatever floats your banana…I mean, boat. What’s wrong is being so stupid to think that Twitter or any other web medium is private.

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F*ck the F*ck Buddy

I read an article a while back on Dirty In Public, about fuck buddies. The girl was in fuck buddy hell and wished she could have a life do-over and return him to friend status. I know the feeling.

Several years ago I made the mistake of having sex with a good friend of mine. Why? I dunno. I knew he wanted me, and I used to kind of get off on giving a guy something he didn't deserve namely my body. Somehow I viewed this as a power thing. In retrospect, it was the opposite and is no longer a practice to which I subscribe.

Needless to say, once we fucked well, actually it was a lot less than fucking, more of a disappointing (to me) hand job (for him) our relationship was awkward. Whenever we saw each other after that he was seriously DTF and I was seriously not interested. Let s just say I had taken the Ferrari around the block and was unimpressed by the throttle and the run flat tires. I had to sever ties with my friend, because he was pretty much only interested in being my fuck buddy, and I was pretty much only interested in NOT being his fuck buddy.

Years went by. I never called him. He never called me. It was over. Whew. But, I had lost a good friend or so I had thought a good friend. If he truly was a good friend he would have put his shattered male ego aside and his penis back in his pants and dialed it back to friend status right away. Recently, said friend reappeared in my life and now I am faced with keeping him at arms length again, because I get the distinct feeling that he is still DTF. And I am still not.

Marrie from Dirty In Public asks the question, Can a fuck buddy be demoted to just buddy? I say no. At least not without a long term break in the relationship. I am still constantly watching my back with this friend turned almost fuck buddy turned not friend turned friend again 7 years later.

I had a lot of fuck buddies back then, or at least that's what I thought they were. I know now they were just horny guys looking to get their rocks off and I was an easy, low self-esteem target. I say fuck the fuck buddy. It never works out, and the woman ultimately feels taken advantage of unless of course, the fuck buddy is buying her dinner, taking her to the movies and treating her like a girlfriend, in which case he really isn't a fuck buddy then, is he?