No Too $hort

If there's one thing I've learned from writing this blog, it's this: no matter how nasty you think a sex act is, at least one of your friends is doing it. Now usually in this scenario, I'm the nasty one doing the nasty thing; but every once in a while someone trumps me. Case in point - the Golden Shower. 

When I was kicking around ideas for this week's edition of Nasty Fridays, I kept rejecting the idea of writing about golden showers because I have only one thing to say about it - ew. But I was feeling kind of bad for being so narrow-minded so I decided to take it to my twitter people in the form of a poll. I didn't get a lot of responses (apparently people are a little uncomfortable talking publicly about peeing during sex) but all of the responses I got were along the lines of "that's nasty" and "who does that?".

Then I decided to take it to my real-life people, thinking I'd get more of the same. And for the most part I did, until my most conservative, least-nasty friend told me that she makes it a point to pee on everyone she gets involved with. I was flummoxed, to say the least. I had to know more.

After a prolonged discussion (taking place while I was on the streetcar getting the side-eye from just about everybody), it came down to this: peeing on someone is the ultimate form of closeness. And if you can do everything else, why can't you do that?

I hate to admit it, but it's kind of a good point. If during sex we can take one another's body parts into our mouths (or bums), can ingest bodily fluids, can toss salads or go head-to-head with Auntie Flo, what's a little pee pee between buddies? Is it really that nasty? If being able to pee in front of your significant other is a sign of closeness, isn't copping a squat on them the utmost in bonding experiences? Besides, urine is sterile right?

Or maybe it's a power thing. Nothing says "I dominate you" more than releasing a hot stream of stinky piss on your lover, does it? Especially if said lover is lying there with a look of ecstatic anticipation waiting for the rainfall to come. If someone is going to take that from you, there's no need to be insecure in your relationship ever again, is there?

I don't know about you guys, but I'm still not sold. I think the bedroom and bathroom are separate rooms for a reason. They weren't meant to be mixed. But what say you, dear readers? Is there a place for pee pee in the bedroom? Enlighten me.

And p.s. there's a "favourite commenter" prize for the first person who can tell me why I called this post "No Too $hort". CHeeKz I'm looking at you.

Happy Friday everyone!

Baby what's your size?

One of the things women love to do is to take random facts about a man and deduce from them details about his attributes. There are many manifestations of this - how he treats waiters is indicative of how he will treat you, whether he wears a seatbelt is a sign of what kind of father he'll be. But by and large we gals like to use these little facts as indications of a man's d*ck size. (I tried hard to come up with a funny euphemism for this but let's just be frank for a change).

Women use all kinds of factors to get a preview of what the main event will be like - height, finger size, shoe size, length of his forearm, distance between the tip of his pinky and his wrist - but none of these are really foolproof.  And just eyeing the bulge in his pants doesn't work either...as Pamela Anderson once said "it might be all potatoes and no meat".

All of this got me thinking about whether there is in fact a way to determine the size of a man's weapon before going to war. And so, for you my dear readers, I have compiled a list of tell tale signs that your potential man packs a wallop.

1. He never talks about it.

Short-d*ck men will either tell you upfront that they are small, or they will lie and say they're big. Either way, he's talking about it rather than resting in the knowledge that you'll be more than satisfied when you see what he's got. A man who never mentions it is probably packing.

2. He has swagger but not bluster.

The distinction between swagger is an important one - not just in matters of penis size but in life in general. Swagger is smooth, bluster is obnoxious. A man with swagger knows he's dope and just expects you to realize it too. A man with bluster thinks he's dope and will explain to you in detail why that is. Think of it like the Napoleon Complex; just as a short man overcompensates by getting all alpha, a smallie does the same thing. In a nutshell, a man with swagger probably packs a mean punch while a man with bluster is probably packing a pencil.

3. He doesn't have to work for it.

Similar to above, a man who is genetically blessed (and makes use of his blessings) develops a reputation and soon enough will have pu$$y falling out of his pocket. If this man is not a professional athlete and employed, attractive, independent women are throwing themselves at him, there's probably a reason.

4. He gets repeat business.

If you really want to know what's going on south of his border, watch him closely and pay close attention to the women around him. As I said above, a well-hung man will have women throwing themselves at him. But if these women are also clamoring for a repeat performance it's probably a really, really good show.


5. When all else fails, grab it.

Some women swear by this method as the only foolproof way. But be warned - this may prompt several reactions, some of which may be a little unpleasant.

Ladies what do you think? Is there a way to tell what's going on beneath a man's pants? Should we even be trying to find out? Men - I'm pretty sure you stopped reading after the first paragraph so I'm not even gonna bother.

The Thin Red Line

In a woman's life, there is only one thing more certain than death and taxes - the arrival of Aunt Flo. Like a mini plague, the curse descends upon us monthly, wreaking a kind of havoc no man can truly comprehend. And of all the crap that menses brings to a gal's life, there is no greater offense than this: it makes her hornier than a mofo while simultaneously turning her vagina into forbidden territory.

Or does it?

I woman I used to know once proudly announced to me that her man, um, dines at her place every night - even if Auntie is also at the table. One of the selling points of the SoftCup is that you can have sex while it's holding things down for you. And a certain favourite commenter (Hi CHeeKZ) has pointed out, there are alternate points of entry when the red sea is blocking the door.

Now I know that as a woman I'm supposed to value my period as the physical evidence of my ability to bring life into the world. Therefore it would be wrong of me to think of it as disgusting. But unfortunately it doesn't work that way. As much of a horn dog free spirit as I am, I cannot help but think that period sex is just plain gross. Just - ew. And even though I am a firm believer that sexy time makes everything - including that week of hell - better, I usually shun all such activity when the coast is crimson. In extraordinary circumstances I will go for some above-the-waist action, but that's only when the man is so outstanding that I have to have him like,  now. Otherwise I refrain from writing cheques my pu$$y can't cash. 

I was wondering though whether that makes me uptight so as usual I took it to a TwitterPoll. With only a few exceptions, all the respondents agreed that period sex = yuck. 

So what say you, dear readers? Ladies do you let a man enter the red zone? Confine him to safe territory? Or skip it altogether? And dear men - will you go head-to-head with mean ole Aunt Flo?

The Good Break Up

One of my biggest reasons for shunning relationships is that it ipso facto shuns break ups. For all the mouth I have here on this blog, I can be a punk softie in real life. This makes it exceedingly difficult for me to successfully execute a break up - I just feel too bad to do it and end up stuck in shitty situations far longer than I should. I am, however, really good at telling other people how to break up and today I'm sharing my wisdom with all of you.

A bad break up is a bitch and can reverberate through a person's life for years to come. So unless you want to be the evil ex for the rest of your life, follow my commandments for a humane breakup:

1. Be sure - a lot of people (I'm looking at you ladies) like to say things to provoke a reaction and then turn tail when they don't get the reaction they expected. This is childish and stupid. If you say you're done, you'd better be done.

2. Show up - If you're over the age of 16 and you live in the same city as your soon-to-be ex, email/text/phone break ups are not the business. If things have gone deep enough to require a break up, you are required to do it in person. Otherwise you're a panty meat and no one likes a panty meat.

3. Tell the truth - Men I'm talking to you right now. If you have a reason for ending it, please share. Don't get all wishy washy and start obfuscating about how it's not her it's you and you just need time and you just need time and that kind of shit. If you want to leave your girl because her constant queefs are freaking you the f*ck out, just say so. It is the only fair thing to do and it also provides that thing the ladies love so much - closure.

4. Accept that you might have to be the bad guy - Some people can break up gracefully and move on with their lives without bearing their ex any ill will. Other people get angry and cast their new ex as the villain in the little soap opera of their life. Be prepared for thinly-veiled tweets and Facebook status updates about you.

5. Don't be a shoulder to cry on - You cannot comfort someone about yourself.  You dumped her. She's upset and confused and it's nice that you get that. But if you don't want to be her boyfriend anymore you cannot be the person she calls in the middle of the night when she can't sleep because the bed is just so empty. You are not the person she should be calling when her car breaks down or she had a bad day.  That's what God invented girlfriends for. Plus - let's be honest, you probably won't have anything helpful or constructive to say when she's crying down the phone so just don't.

6. Space first, friends second - Men I'm talking to you again because you guys are dirty with this. When you break up with someone, you have to give them space, whether they know they want it or not. Trying to be friends right away is only going to confuse her and give her false hopes. And don't give me that shit about how you feel bad or you genuinely like her as a person or you value her friendship. That all may be true, but that's not why you stick around afterward. It's either because you a) get off on seeing how difficult it is for her to get over you or b) you feel guilty and you're using her to assuage your guilt. Either way you are an ass.

7. Don't cave - The following is a list of unacceptable reasons to get back together with your ex:

You're horny

She's really upset

You didn't mean it

You feel guilty

You miss her

The next that you dumped him for didn't work out

You need a date for your co-workers wedding

You still love him

If you followed breakup commandment #1, none of these issues means shit. You broke up with this person for a reason and unless that reason has miraculously vanished you need to keep it moving.

8. If you live together, one of you needs to move out - Just trust me on this one. 

What do you guys think? Does the way we handle break ups make them easier or do they just suck no matter what?

How to Keep a Man

If you follow me on twitter you saw me tweeting the other night about the old diaries I was reading. They were so sadly pathetic that I was actually a little bit ashamed to be myself. But I found something interesting in there that I thought I would share with you all.

Back in my early twenties I was dating this man who was just a spectacular a$$hole. And one day he ordered me to watch Queens of Comedy and pay special attention to Mo'nique's part about how to please her man. He told me to listen closely and write it down. Lucky for you, I was an obedient little girl and I did.

Let's examine Mo'nique's rules of thumb for keeping her man:

1. She never lets her friends hang with her and her man "F*ck you single bitches!" is how she put it.

2. She never leaves her man unattended with other women. She won't even let a maid clean her house if her husband's there and she's not.

3. She'll do anything her husband wants her to sexually. He calls her the FBIA (Freakiest B*tch in America). She says if she doesn't do what he wants, another b*tch will.

Now in my young and idealistic days I thought this list was a bunch of bullshit. I wrote in my diary that if that was the way he wanted me to conduct himself he was in for a big disappointment. These days I actually think this list is on point.

Most of the women I know would disagree with this whole list. In my experience, women like to live in the land of fairy tales where they think a commitment trumps opportunity and therefore there is no reason not to trust a man alone with a maid or their friends alone with their man. Not me. To paraphrase the God of Relationships, a man is only as faithful as his opportunities. We all know that a man in a committed relationship should be able to resist temptations, but whether he would actually be able to do so is another story. If I was in a relationship and I was worried about my man cheating on me, please believe I would do everything in my power to ensure he would never be alone with a woman who wasn't his mother.

As much as most women disagree with numbers 1 and 2, they are probably shaken to their very foundations by number 3. This is probably the biggest thing women don't understand about men. Women like to refuse to participate in sex acts that they think are nasty because they think it makes men respect them more. In girl-logic, a man will value a "nice" girl over a sexually adventurous one every time. Therefore if their man wants something in the bedroom that she's not willing to give, he'll just roll over and say to himself  "Well relationships are about compromise and she thinks it's nasty so I'll just let it go and be content with the fact that she is a warm, nurturing, intelligent, giving woman". Ladies, I already schooled you on this one but let me tell it to you again - there is always some simple b*tch out there willing to do the blow rim job you won't. So whether you accept it or  not, in his mind he has a pass and he will redeem it in the right set of circumstances.  So ladies I say to you, quite literally, suck it up or suffer the consequences.

What say you ladies and men? Should a woman police her man and bend to his every sexual whim? Or are Mo'Nique and I full of shit?

a little funny for you

In honour of Family Day, I'm not putting up a real post today but here's just a little something to tide you over til the next one.

If you know me in real life you know that I recently moved to the hood into a new place. Although I was living alone before I moved, this is the first place I've lived that was totally mine, which is great because unlike my last apartment, nobody else's stuff is in here and I can put everything exactly where I want it. Problem is when I lose things I have no one else to blame. Or so I thought.

Case in point: ever since I moved I have not been able to find my bible. I know I own one, I know where I used to keep it, and I know I moved everything but it was nowhere to be found. This has been bugging me for weeks now so yesterday I decided I was going to search top to bottom and not give up until I found it.

Do you want to know where I found it? In my "goodie" box under my bed buried underneath certain um, toys and suchlike. I know I did not put it there and only two people helped me pack - my little sister and my father. This tells me that depravity runs in my family.

The Tossed Salad

With Valentine's Day almost upon us, the internets are awash with flowery lovey-dovey posts about how to celebrate your boo on the big day. If you guys are anything like me you're sick to death of hearing about it, so I thought it would be a nice counterpoint to bring the dirty to you. Happy effing Valentine's Day.

I didn't discover my inner perv until I was about 25. Before that I was pretty sheltered, so the first time I heard about tossing salads I was appalled. "That's NASTY!" I exclaimed. The man who dropped the bomb on me - a small-time hood and big-time cocksman - blew a puff of indo smoke in my face and said: don't knock it til you've tried it.

It seems tossing salad is one of the last taboo acts in sex. People are doing it but no one's talking about it. Well except my friends of course. A four-way conference call with a group of them yesterday raised a number of interesting issues related to ass-snacks. The politics of tossed salad, if you will. And because I exist to educate you all, I'm going to share them here:

1. Tossed salad is on a voluntary basis only. Unlike head, receiving does not obligate you to give. If your dude wants to snack on your dingleberry he does so at his own risk and it doesn't mean you have to make like a truffle in return. Unless you are in an exclusive type of situation, in which case, see #3

2. A pre-snack shower is a must. For my especially squeamish peeps, you might want to make it a shared shower so you can make sure everything has been sanitized to your satisfaction. This is especially important if you're snacking at a new buffet before you can swear by their cleaning habits.

Two key pieces of advice courtesy of my friends the ass-connoisseurs: i. Beware because "bacteria grows at an alarming rate". What you wash off in the shower may have grown back by the time you reach the bed.

ii. Never, ever eat the ass of someone who uses one of those shower puffs to wash themselves. There is no way that thing is getting into the nooks and crannies the way you want it to if you're gonna put your mouth down there.

3. If you're in a committed relationship with someone who wants their ass eaten, you must either do it or give them a free pass to get it somewhere else. Relationships are about compromise. You can't just unilaterally remove the salad bar from the buffet without providing some kind of alternative.

4. It is bad sportsmanship to refuse to kiss someone who has just emerged from your rim. I don't want to hear anything about how it's nasty or you're squeamish. Get over it.

There you have it - not only have I educated you about the ins and outs of tossed salads, I've also given you a great Valentine's Day gift idea. Nothing says I love you better than a rim job.

Have a great weekend everyone.

size, shape, width, and girth

Way back when I first moved to Toronto, I lived in a house with four single girls. As you can imagine, all manner of debauchery went on in that house, to the point where we had a whiteboard in our kitchen were we kept track of the latest perpetrators of crimes against "the girls of 1560". Sadly I don't talk to most of the girls anymore (another post for another day) but I do remember those days and laugh my ass off.

One thing I remember most about those days was this guy we used to see all the time. He was a good guy; funny, mannerly, and dead sexy. But he occupied a position of prominence on our wall of shame because he had an unfortunate nickname: triangle d*ck.

If you're not familiar, triangle d*ck is one of the great tragedies of life. It's when a man's um, man part is shaped like a triangle. It may not be visible to the naked eye, but once it's in there roughing up your lady parts you will know you've encountered it. It's a terrible affliction because there is no cure and it totally negates any other positive attributes the man part might have.

Another one of the girls in the house had an encounter with a sugar bowl d*ck. This is where the girth far exceeds the length so that the penis has the same round, squat silhouette as a sugar bowl. Again - great guy, handsome, smart, funny...but, a sugar bowl.

Eff what you heard I'm a picky girl. I don't mind a gentle sway to the left or right, but I can't get down with these oddly shaped things. I think it might be a dealbreaker for me...but should it be? If I was to find that mythical magical majestical (© Mo'Better Blues) man that could put up with my crazy but had a triangular penis, should I toss him back or hang on for dear life? We all know that size matters, but should shape and girth?

Here's another story for you. Last summer I was hanging on the street corner (#noprostitute) with two of my favourite ladies talking about um, lady parts. I can't remember how we got on the topic, but we were talking about "fatness" and how bizarre it is for a man to compliment a woman for having a "fat pum pum". We wondered if this was an exclusive concern of black men and decided to start polling random white guys to ask them if they noticed or cared about how fat a woman's downthere is. As you can imagine, we got a lot of confused looks. It seems this matters not one whit to some guys, but seems to be quite important to others.

So gentlemen, tell me - does "fatness" matter? And what exactly constitutes a fat vagina? Would you turn down an otherwise ideal woman because her pu$$y didn't meet your standards?

Educate me oh wise ones.

Double Feature Day - Looking for trouble

Note: I wasn't really feeling today's post, so I decided to make it double feature day. Don't get used to it - it will probably never happen again. Also I really wanted to hear your thoughts on this one, so don't let me down.

When I get involved with a new dude, at some point I end up telling him that I don’t like trouble. This usually comes up during the rules-setting conversation that us control freaks like to have. The gist of my spiel is basically “Do what you do wanna do, but be smart about it because I don’t like trouble”.  They usually know what I mean by that. I’ve written about this before: I don’t concern myself with what the man I’m involved with does with other girls on his own time, as long as it doesn’t blow up in my face.

But lately something strange has been happening. If you follow me on twitter, you know that every night around 10:00pm, I start tweeting that I’m looking for trouble. And I am, though I don’t know why. It could be because I’m bored, or because I feel like I have nothing to write about anymore – safe, quiet lives don’t really make for interesting blog posts. Could be that my life is in a period of change and upheaval and I want to feel more agitated than I do. Maybe it has to do with someone I met recently who seems like trouble but whom I am intrigued by. Maybe it’s because I’ve become used to always having some kind of bacchanal going on and lately the only drama I deal with is someone else’s. Whatever the reason, I’m looking for trouble.

The problem is though, that I’m looking for the right kind of trouble. Good trouble, not bad trouble. The distinction is clear in my mind, but maybe not so much to other people.
So let’s examine it – good trouble vs. bad trouble.

Bad trouble – anything that doesn’t have to do with men, sex, or relationships. Going to jail for tax evasion (not that I’m guilty of that or anything) is not the kind of trouble I’m looking for.
Good trouble – anything that gives me a reason to keep my nether regions groomed

Good trouble – throwing caution to the wind and just accepting what life brings
Bad trouble – about 99% of what life would bring

Good trouble – a brief affair with an unsuitable man
Bad trouble – said unsuitable man’s wifey calling my phone talking about “stay away from him!”
Bad trouble – or wifey cutting me, trying to fight me, or throwing acid on my face

Good trouble – sex with an ex
Bad trouble – getting sucked back into a relationship with said ex
Bad trouble – then having to be in a relationship

Good trouble – a “platonic” friendship with a man I desperately want to bone
Bad trouble – having a platonic friendship with someone I want to bone

Good trouble – exploring bi-curiosity
Bad trouble – having to eat…um, yeah never mind

What do you think oh wise ones? Should I indulge my appetite for trouble or play it safe and continue to spend my nights reading and watching bad tv? Advise me in the comments.

Happy Effing Valentine's Day

The dreaded day is coming. Valentine ’s Day. I planned to ignore it, even though my examiner.com editor tells me I have to write about it. I’m trying not to think about it. I remind myself that it has no relevance to me – it doesn’t inspire excitement, but it shouldn’t inspire dread either. But it does.
I’m happily single. I love being single and I really, really believe that I’m wired to be single. And while I may joke around every now and then that I should have gotten married so that there would be someone around here to take out the garbage and plunge the toilet, I cannot remember a time in my adult life when I’ve said “I wish I had a boyfriend”. Because I don’t.
Although some people probably look forward to February effing 14th, I would imagine that the day causes more misery than elation for most. Single people are miserable, coupled women gnash their teeth waiting to see if their men will step up to the plate, and coupled men are resentful and grudging that they are arbitrarily required to produce evidence of their love. And on All-Star Weekend, no less.  So I should be glad to be removed from the equation, right?

Until I was 33, I had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with someone special.  The men I’ve been involved with were not really into it and far be it from me to force them into doing something they don’t want to do. So until last year, I really had no idea what a good Valentine’s Day experience was. But last year I had a great one. I’m not going to get into detail, but it was nice. And notwithstanding the fact that it ultimately proved to be a farce, the experience gave me a frame of reference that is at least in part to blame for my ever-so-slightly wistful feelings this time around.  Now that I know what I’m missing, I’m kinda peeved about it.
Which brings me to reason #2: the lack of options. Being truly single (as in not dating) on Valentine’s Day is basically like knowing there’s a big ole party going on that you are not invited to. But you hear about it, you see the invites, you watch other people prepare for it, and even though you don’t know what’s going to happen there, you just know you’re missing out.
See the absolute best thing about being single is options. You have 100% autonomy over your life and you can do what the eff you like with it. The world is your oyster when you’re single and it’s great. But when it comes to Valentine’s Day, you’re disqualified if you don’t have a partner to celebrate it with and that’s no fun. Unless of course you’re one of those women that lies to herself has “Anti-Valentine’s Day” parties with her girlfriends. I was never really a fan of that; to me there is nothing sadder in life than a bunch of single women getting together on Valentine’s Day pretending they’d rather be out with their girls than hugged up somewhere with a man. I call bullshit on that, but I’m sure my single ladies will disagree.
So tell me fellow Singletons – how do you feel about Valentine’s Day? Just another bullshit commercialized holiday, or does it make you want to stab yourself in the eye?

The Control Freak

I was recently explaining my aversion to sleepovers to a new friend. As I desperately tried to convey the importance of sleeping on a satin pillowcase (and the dearth of said pillowcases at men’s houses) to a man with very little hair, he looked at me and shook his head.  “What you need to do,” he intoned “is stop trying to control everything and just enjoy life”.
I agreed with him but thought to myself, “easier said than done”. See I’m a straight-up control freak and pretty much always have been. I’m that girl who walks around with a huge purse with everything she might ever possibly need in it, because God forbid I get caught out there someday without my Tide to Go stick.
In a relationship, my control-freakiness manifests as a laissez-faire attitude. Sounds contradictory, but by asking nothing of my partner I relinquish no control; I don’t make requests whose outcomes are determined by anyone other than myself. This, I realize, is probably not the right balance of power in a relationship. But what is? And do different types of control weigh more heavily than others?
I was once in an unrelationship in which I controlled the purse-strings.  Being a modern woman but yet no fool, I compensated for this imbalance of power by pretending that it didn’t exist. And basically giving up control of all other aspects of our life together. I know that a man needs to feel like a man and it’s difficult to do this when the woman controls the money, but a man who makes all the rules despite the fact that he doesn’t make the money should feel like a king, right? Wrong. No matter what I did to equalize the balance of power in our relationship, that imbalance was always there and was the demise of our relationship.
But should power and control matter in a relationship?  Maybe not, but some people truly can’t help it. We’ve read enough about control freaks and Type-A personalities to know that some people just can’t relax unless they’re holding the reins of something, whether it be which side of the bed they sleep on or the direction their relationship takes. Is this something we have to squelch in order to have a happy home or is it possible to love someone who feels the need to direct every minute aspect of life?
Maybe I’m naïve, but I believe it is. Endless cynic though I may be, I have hope that there are people out there who can tolerate a control freak but still not be too punkish to be desirable. Or maybe I’m just kidding myself.
What say you readers? 

A little treat for you....

When I was a lot younger, I dated this dude. I should have known he was a bad scene because he took me to see Blade on our first date (worst.movie.EVER!). But I persisted and, inevitably, the relationship led to sex. Immediately after we had sex for the first time, he looked and me and said "Were you spoiled as a child?"

I never understood what that meant.

The Crush Not Taken

In general, I’m a pretty happy person. No matter what’s going on in my life, I’m usually able to put a smile on my face and joke around as if I don’t have a care in the world. I’m one of those nervous-stomach types who gets sick whenever I get upset, so when bad things happen -  arguments, breakups, the Raptors lose – I don’t let them get me down.
But there is one thing sure to send me into the doldrums and that is when a crush must be prematurely or abruptly abandoned.
This has happened to me a lot and the reasons vary; sometimes I discover that the guy is a dickhead. Or he gets married or otherwise committed. Or he moves away. Or he turns out to be a cat-lover. Whatever the reason, having to drop the pebble of hope I’m carrying that my crush will one day wake up and see how perfectly suitable we are always sends me into a tizz.
See the thing is, I’m a big daydreamer. And when I have a crush on someone I’ve usually created my perfect fantasy of when and how he is going to fall in love with me. What he’ll say, what I’ll be wearing, our first fight, all that shit. I spend a lot of good, quality time (that could be put to much more productive use I’m sure) making sure every detail is suitably realistic and dazzling. So when I have to give it all up before it has a chance to come to fruition I feel as though my life’s work has gone to waste.
And call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only girl who has trouble giving up on a crush.
Why is it that we are more easily able to deal with the ending of an actual real-life relationship than we are to give up on a fantasy? To be honest, I blame the media. There are craploads of magazine articles and books out there to help a woman get over the end of a relationship. There are do’s and don’ts for it. But if you have to give up on a crush you get nothing. This is why I’m walking around with all these semi-abandoned crushes on wildly unsuitable men so I’m forever gasping in excitement when I see someone before I remember that he’s been crossed off the list.
I’m going to write a guide for women to help them get over unworkable crushes. I’ll make an effing killing and you guys can say you knew me when.