the bad touch

Here’s a fun debate: monogamy – is it a logical course for humans, or are we going against our natural instincts by committing to one person for our entire lives?

An opinion piece on CNN.com yesterday examined that question, and drew conclusions that leaned towards the latter. In the article, writer Christopher Ryan points out that thousands of years ago, before the widespread use of agriculture enticed humans to leave behind their nomadic ways for a more sedentary civilization, monogamy was a completely unheard-of concept. Men mated with as many women as possible, not because they were crazy about poontang (although they probably were) but to ensure the survival of the species in very harsh, unsafe circumstances, while women collectively cared for all of the children, regardless of their parentage, so that the men could hunt and protect the community. For nomads, this sort of lifestyle made perfect sense; it was imperative that everyone worked together to ensure survival. It wasn’t until people settled down, started accumulating property, and work became specialized that who was sleeping with whom and who was your baby daddy became such a big issue.

Ryan doesn’t mention this, but I think it’s worth noting that the invention and evolution of marriage (because despite what every conservative, anti-gay marriage pundit will tell you, God did not invent marriage anymore than Al Gore invented the Internet. Marriage is completely a human-created institution) has had a huge influence on the importance of monogamy in our society. Whether a marriage is arranged for financial, political, practical or emotional reasons, the notion that the two parties involved will be faithful is one of the key factors.

But are we, as human beings, capable of upholding that high standard we’ve set for ourselves? Obviously, some people are – not everyone cheats. But what about those who do? Is it a dark and sinister practice designed to wreak havoc on relationships, or is it just going with nature’s flow? After all, fighting thousands of years of biology is an uphill battle; by pushing monogamy, are humans just setting ourselves up for failure?

Obviously, because of the way our society works now, there’s a strong argument to be made for pro-monogamy. We don’t live in a communal society where everything – food, property, childcare – is shared, so it’s beneficial to have one specific partner to help out with those things. Studies have shown that children are better off when they have two parents in the home, and having a significant other provides many emotional, mental and physical benefits.

But there’s more to it than that. Practicing monogamy is another way that humans distance ourselves from the animals from which we evolved. It appears that, after 200,000 years or so, humans kind of think we’re better than animals, and running around saying “Look, look! I only have sex with one person! ONE PERSON!” is one way to exhibit that (not flinging our feces at each other also works). But try as we might to distance ourselves from our mammalian ancestors, by building civilizations, exploring the natural world, creating brilliant works of literature, art, science and technology, we can’t ever forget -we are animals. Instinct is a powerful thing. It’s like when everyone acts all surprised when the trained tiger goes nuts and tries to bite Roy’s head off – sure, he’s trained, but he’s still a tiger, and from time to time, he’s going to act like a tiger and try to eat people. Same with humans. Sure, we’re trained to accept and practice from monogamy, but it’s reasonable to expect that, from time to time, we may act like the animals we are, and try to mount the nearest living creature that looks fertile. We just like to think we’re above that sort of behavior.

And so the debate continues, and probably will as long as humans are, well, human. Because I don’t think robots have these kinds of problems.

what the backstreet boys taught me about dating

I make no secret, on this blog or elsewhere in my life, of my deep and abiding love for the Backstreet Boys. This weekend, as I celebrated that love by seeing the Boys in concert yet again, I was reminded of the huge influence they have had on my life. Their music has provided me with comfort and solace during several dark periods of my life, they continue to amuse me with their general ridiculousness, and they taught me several important lessons about men, love and dating.

You see, when I first became a Backstreet Boys fan at the tender age of 13, I knew nothing of the world of romance. I was an innocent. (And how. I had never seen AJ McLean hump a stage, an event which I to this day blame for my eventual descent into debauchery.) However, over the next twelve years, like five golden-voiced Yodas, the Backstreet Boys and their music taught me much about the ways of the world. I now present you with “What the Backstreet Boys Taught Me About Dating”:

1. Boys have one-track minds. (“Boys Will Be Boys,” Backstreet Boys, 1996)
Hey! Guess what? Boys like sex! A lot! And not just guys who are 20-years-old (the average age of the Backstreet Boys when this song was recorded. Yes, I figured it out.) but like, 99.9% of guys ages 10 to death. And they will use whatever means necessary to get you to have sex with them. In this track from their 1996 debut European album, the Boys use lines like “My body’s callin’ for you/So please don’t hesitate” to try to coerce their way into a girl’s pants, blaming their rampant horniness on the adage that “boys will be boys” (and the fact that their average age was 20.6 at the time this song was recorded). But the song fails to mention what happens once the girl does give up the goods – not only does the boy’s body stop calling for you, he stops calling you altogether. The moral of the story? Make him work for it, girl, no matter how many times he tries to sweet talk you with lines like “You’ve got something/So incredible in my eyes.”

2. Bad boys do it better. (“If You Want It to Be Good Girl (Get Yourself a Bad Boy),” Backstreet Boys, 1997)
Nice guys always wonder why girls are drawn to the “bad boy.” Blame it on songs like this. Being told that a bad boy is the one to go to “If you really like it hot/Someone who hits the spot,” suddenly makes all those googly-eyed nice guys seem so…unsatisfying. Sure, a sweet, considerate guy will gently make love to you while looking deep into your eyes, but only someone who’s a little rough around the edges will do things to you that are illegal in 26 states and render you incapable of speech for a good 20 minutes. The lesson? If you want someone to change your tires, find a nice guy. If you want someone to make your toes curl and your eyeballs roll back in your head, get yourself a bad boy.

3. If you’re really in love with someone, your pasts don’t matter. (“As Long as You Love Me,” Backstreet Boys, 1997)
Everybody has some skeletons in his or her closet. An emotionally scarring upbringing. A really crazy Spring Break week in Cancun. Paris Hilton. But what the Boys are saying here is that if you love someone in the here and now, none of that matters. Maybe not the best defense when trying to explain why there are pictures of you naked with a donkey on Facebook, “As Long As You Love Me’s” message is one of forgiveness for sins committed long before you and your lover were glimmers in each other’s eyes. So forget about the past, look to the future, and keep on suppressing those herpes outbreaks, and everyone will be A-OK.

4. Boys tend to be very confusing and ambiguous about what they want. (“I Want It That Way,” Millennium, 1999)
The Backstreet Boys’ first worldwide #1 hit, “I Want It That Way” has become the band’s signature song – and yet, eleven years later, no one really has any clue what the fuck they’re talking about. While we know for sure it involves heartaches and mistakes, fires and desires, the Boys never clearly define what “it” is or what “way” they specifically want it. Rhodes scholars have debated it for years, but women know better – it’s because men generally really have no idea what they want, and, on the off chance they do, they are completely incapable of expressing it. The Backstreet Boys actually did generations of women a favor by releasing this song, and giving women a chance to practice decoding a guy’s mixed messages, since we’d be doing it for the rest of our lives anyway.

5. If your significant other calls to tell you not to wait up for him, and his phone battery “dies,” he’s probably cheating on you. (“The Call,” Black & Blue. 2000)
Not to encourage paranoia in an already fear-mongering age, but the moral of this story is simple – if your significant other’s acting shady, chances are he or she is being fucking shady. Sure, everyone’s experienced the utter sense of despair and dismay upon hearing their phone’s surprisingly perky “low battery” beep, and it shouldn’t be an immediate cause for concern for your better half. However, a confluence of bullshit such as this song describes (“I’m out with my boys, but I’m not telling you where we’re going, but don’t wait up for me, and for good measure, my phone’s dying, so don’t call me while I’m mid-coitus with a stripper whose real name I don’t know.”) is a good indicator that some dirt is being covered up. Of course, the other lesson here is that if you lie, you will get caught. Overall, what we should take away from “The Call” is that it’s better to stay on the up-and-up, and make sure your phone battery’s always charged.

6. Boys love to rescue a hot mess in distress… (“The One,” Millennium, 1999; “Poster Girl,” Never Gone, 2005; “One in a Million,” Unbreakable, 2007)
At some point in my life, I got this notion in my head that men found confident, intelligent, self-sufficient, independent women attractive and alluring. The funny thing is, the older I get, the more I realized the exact opposite is true. Oh sure, guys will say they don’t like girls who bring drama, are clingy, and need constant attention, but boys like (more about that later). The fact is, no matter what they say, guys clearly get off by swooping in on a white horse to be the “helping hand to make it right” whether it’s because your car won’t start and you hate your job at Starbucks, or you’re a fatalistic hipster with an exhibitionist streak. The lesson? Unleashing your inner crazy is the key to romantic success, ladies!

7. …but they will only put up with your shit for so long. (“Quit Playing Games (With My Heart),” Backstreet Boys, 1997; “Don’t Want You Back,” Millennium, 1999;  “Treat Me Right,” Unbreakable, 2007; “Bye Bye Love,” This Is Us, 2009)
Of course, while guys make like a girl crazy enough to do it in an elevator, they have their limits for how much ape-shittiness they will tolerate (the line of demarcation seems to fall somewhere around boning another dude, or at least being very indecisive about which dude you’d like to bone). You see, apparently boys have feelings too, and they don’t like being lied to, cheated on, or jerked around. Wow, whoever thought that those things would totally suck?

8. At some point in the life of every man, he will act like a complete tool, and subsequently try to make it up to you. (“Shape of My Heart,” Black & Blue, 2000; “Crawling Back to You,” Never Gone, 2005; “Bigger,” This Is Us, 2009)
Basically, the message the Boys are trying to send to their hordes of impressionable young female fans with these songs is, “Look, sometimes guys will act like complete shits. We’re human too; we’re fallible. And every once in a blue moon, we might realize and acknowledge that we acted like shits, and try to make it up to you by writing you a pretty song about how we’re sorry we were shits.” I mean, not like a guy has ever admitted to me that he screwed up, but at least I had advanced warning that he would.

9. Boys lie. A lot. (“I’ll Never Break Your Heart,” Backstreet Boys, 1997)
Perhaps the hardest lesson of all to learn. In 1998, when the Backstreet Boys first said “I’ll never break your heart/I’ll never make you cry/I’d rather die than live without you,” who were we to question? Surely this was how all boys felt – they were good and true, and they’d go to any lengths to avoid hurting girls like us. Imagine then, what a surprise it was when boys did in fact break our hearts, make us cry, and go on living without us in perfect health and happiness. Those hearts, which we were promised would never be broken, slowly hardened into bitter, margarita-soaked stones as we came to the painful, dispiriting revelation that boys will say a lot of things, and not all of them will be true.

10. Love will drive you fucking nuts. (“Climbing the Walls,” Never Gone, 2005; “Love Will Keep You Up All Night,” Unbreakable, 2007)
You want more proof? Read this blog.

dating do’s and don’t's part 5: advice in general

Well folks, it’s been quite a week. We’ve talking about first dates, phone etiquette, online dating, and sex, but today I wanted to leave with the gentlemen with a few pieces of general advice to guide them through the sometimes hazardous waters of the dating pool. While nothing can guarantee romantic success, following these tips will at least ensure that fewer women will be throwing darts at your picture or bashing you mercilessly to her friends during Happy Hour. Good luck!

1. Please remember that in the early stages of dating, everything you do sends a message. Most girls will try to keep an open mind and not be judgmental, but with little information to go on about you as a person, every word or action takes on a greater significance, so bear that in mind.
2. Everyone’s sense of humor is different, so until you know that the person you’re dating is cool with offensive, off-color humor, you probably want to lay off the racial, sexual, non-PC jokes.
3. Don’t ask a girl what her bra size is within your first ten minutes of talking to her.
4. Don’t play games. Be straight-forward and honest; if you’re interested in a girl, let her know. If you’re not, politely and respectfully tell her. Save the games for the field, court or TV.
5. Don’t lie, even if you’re only doing it to “protect” the girl. Not only will she find out, she’ll be twice as furious as she would have been if you had just told her the truth from the start.
6. Do not compare the girl you are currently seeing to an ex. It is never appropriate or proper etiquette to throw her name around loosely during conversation.
7. Never end a break-up conversation with the phrase “…but I’d like it if we could still be friends.” Even if you really mean it, the moment after rejecting a girl is not the time to say it. It does not soften the blow, and only adds insult to injury. Wait until the girl stops wanting to rip out your jugular, and then broach the subject of being friends.
8. If you are in the early stages of dating a girl (i.e. are not officially in an exclusive, committed relationship) and she breaks it off, you are entitled to have your say in a polite, respectful manner. Do not become whiney, emo, nasty, antagonistic, disrespectful, stalker-ish, or, under any circumstances, cry.
9. Recognize when it’s time to admit defeat. Calling or texting a girl two weeks (or two months) after she’s stopped communicating with you will not convince her that you’re persistent and really into her; it will convince her that you’re annoying, pathetic and possibly a stalker.
10. At the end of the day, above all else, do not be the type of guy a girl has to share her box of tampons with. Nobody’s saying you have to be a closed-off emotional cripple; sharing feelings is great and an important component of a successful relationship, but one of the reasons women love men is because you’re strong, assertive, rational and supportive. Showing a softer side once in awhile is fine, but one pussy per relationship is quite enough.

dating do’s and don’t's pt. 3: sexual behavior and physical appearance

In honor of it being 6/9 and Hump Day (although this is pure coincidence and I didn’t plan for this at all) today’s Do’s and Don’t's list covers the sticky (ahem) subjects of Sexual Behavior and Physical Appearance. Enjoy!

1. Do not EVER ask a girl during your first sexual encounter with her if you can have sex without a condom.  Furthermore, don’t try to trick the girl by sticking it in without a condom.
2. If you’ve just begun sleeping with a girl, don’t automatically assume you’re spending the night. Wait for an invitation before you start asking her what you’re having for breakfast.
3. Never ask a girl to spend the night on your couch or in another bedroom. Either invite her to spend the night or don’t. Anything in between is just insulting.
4. Don’t put your finger up a girl’s butthole.  We don’t know who told you this was a good idea, but it’s not.
5.  When having sex with a girl for the first time, it’s natural to want to put your best foot forward and impress her. This does not mean, however, that you need to try every move in the Kama Sutra on the first night. Having sex with a new person is awkward enough without trying to spin around on your head blindfolded while saying the ABC’s backwards.
6.  If you are deemed a bad kisser, do not expect another date. Practice on your hand, your pillow, whatever; by the time you’re an adult, you should know how to plant a decent kiss on a girl.
7. Don’t ask a girl to compare the size of your junk to that of her sex toys and/or past lovers.
8. Dry humping ceased to be acceptable when you graduated high school.
9.  Don’t have moobs. We understand that everybody’s body type is different, and no one is perfect, but your tits should not be bigger than your lady friend’s. Sorry.
10. Taking pride in your personal appearance is important, but don’t ever stop a girl in the middle of a romantic rendezvous to tell her “Don’t mess up my hair.”

Come back tomorrow for advice on the wonderful world of online dating!

easy, tiger

So, who else watched the Tiger Woods’ Public Apology Dog-and-Pony Show last Friday?

Yeah, me neither.

Really, I don’t get it.  I don’t understand why we’re still talking about Woods’ affairs, and I understand even less why he has to hold a national press conference to apologize to humanity for being an unfaithful piece of shit.  Does he owe his wife an apologize?  Obviously.  His children?  Absolutely.  His family and friends?  Hell yes.  But the general American public?  Why?  As a member of the general American public, I don’t feel like Woods owes me an apology for anything (except maybe for not having an affair with me, thus preventing me from extorting millions of dollars in hush money from him.  Then again, Woods is hardly my athlete of choice.)

No, Woods had to go on national TV and flagellate himself because, frankly, American society as a whole has some of the most twisted, perverse, fucked-up attitudes about sex as ever I have seen.  We are a culture that glorifies sex while at the same time damning anyone who dares to participate in or, God forbid, enjoy the act itself.  The temptation for sex is everywhere, from advertising to entertainment to current fashion trends – and that’s not even counting our natural, biological instincts and urges.  But give in to that temptation, and you become a symbol of depravity and savageness, are branded a sex addict, and shipped off to rehab to be “cured.”  We’re like Jesus in the desert, constantly being tempted to the dark side by the Devil, except, instead of forty days and forty nights, it’s eternal.  But trust me, if you give into temptation, there is hell to pay, celebrity and civilian alike.

Look, I’m no psychologist, and I do think there are people out there who can develop a dependency on sexual activity that negatively impacts their lives.  But there has to be a line between being a sex addict and, well, being a human who made some bad choices, and I think Woods falls more into the latter category than the former.  He pretty much said so, according to The New York Times: “Woods said he had mistakenly believed that his enormous success and celebrity made him entitled ‘to enjoy all the temptations around me.’ He added: ‘I was wrong. I was foolish. I don’t get to play by different rules.’”

Well, no shit, Sherlock.  Being a talented, athletic, ridiculously wealthy megalomaniac does not make your wedding vows null and void.  It also doesn’t necessarily make you a sex addict.  If having gratuitous sense of power, self-importance and entitlement means your a sex addict, then there are a hell of a lot more sex addicts out there than we think.  All things considered, Woods would probably be better served by some sort of power rehab and a good dose of humility.

But what fun would that be for the teeming masses?  How could we salivate for every juicy detail of his trysts while simultaneously being offended and disgusted by them?  How could we ruthlessly judge a man we once revered?  Everyone knows one of America’s favorite pastimes is to put celebrities up on pedestals just so we can knock them down and feel better about our sad, mundane, empty little lives.  We want to watch Woods’ press conference from atop our high horses and tell ourselves that, were we in his position, we would have been far more moral and upstanding; but all the while we know, in the back of our minds, if we had his money, power, and ability to get people to take their clothes off, we would be the kid in the candy store just as much as he was.

In no way am I condoning cheating here.  Infidelity is wrong.  What Tiger did was wrong, and I am not about to defend him.  If I were Elin, I’d have divorce papers on his desk and his balls on a pike in my front yard for all the dicking around he did.  But I’m not Elin, and how she chooses to handle this is, like all other aspects of this debacle, between her and her husband.  It’s none of my business, and it’s certainly none of the American public’s.

the benefits of benefits

Today’s post comes to us courtesy of my friend Julie, who sent me an article from the British web site The Register, about a University of Minnesota study that determined friends-with-benefits or casual sex relationships have no harmful psychological effects.  The findings were part of an ongoing study that assessed the behavior of 1,311 sexually active adults.  Of the participants, 12 percent said their last sexual encounter had been with a “close but not exclusive” partner, while 8 percent said their last encounter was with a casual acquaintance.  The study cautioned that, while casual sex relationships may not have harmful psychological consequences, it does not diminish the potential for negative physical impacts, and participants need to protect themselves accordingly.  (To read the full Register article, go here. To read the study’s results in plain English, go here.)

So…hooray!  We can bounce from bed to bed, sucking and screwing with whomever we want, with no negative repercussions, so long as we use condoms and birth control.  We’ll all be floating around on a cloud of sexually-fulfilled bliss!  Great success!  Right?  Well…maybe not.

Call me a cynic, but it’s going to take more than one study to convince me of the consequences of a behavior, especially since this particular study does not do much to qualify what constitutes  “harmful psychological outcomes.”  Does that mean feeling suicidal, or developing an emotional attachment to someone who’s only supposed to be your fuck buddy? There’s a big difference between the two, but they can both be considered harmful psychological outcomes, at least as far as I’m concerned.

Secondly, I don’t think we have enough data yet to prove one way or another if friends-with-benefits relationships are harmful or not.  Sure, maybe the twenty-somethings in this particular study are fine now, but check again in ten or twenty or thirty years, when these folks can’t have a serious committed relationship, and have issues with intimacy, trust and monogamy, and we’ll see what the damage is.  I may not have a Ph.D, but I don’t think you need one to see that, at least for some people, that is the road these casual relationships can lead us down.

The key to a successful friends-with-benefits relationship is a lack of intimacy, a detachment from emotions.  To make the relationship work, having sex has to be no more intimate than going to see a movie or having a beer together; one must put up a wall to keep platonic feelings from venturing into romantic territory.  Which is fine, for those who can do it (for those who can’t, there’s a whole host of other problems.)  But what about when one is ready to leave the world of friends-with-benefits behind for a committed, romantic relationship?  How does one go about disassembling that wall, and letting him or herself be vulnerable and intimate again?

The trouble with friends-with-benefits relationships, particularly for our generation, is that they add another tangle to the already twisted thread of sexuality we’ve been dealing with since we came out of the womb.  For human beings, as animals, our natural instinct is to have sex with whomever our hormones tell us is the strongest genetic mate, regardless of our emotions.  That instinct is born into us.  However, as we grow up, society tells us that sex and love and emotions are all tied up together, that sex is about much more than propagation of the species.  That concept is flipped on its head again when one finds him or herself in a friends-with-benefit situation, and it’s back to sex without love and emotion, sex for the sake of sex.  Any of these concepts are fine on their own, but it’s the back-and-forth, the push-and-pull that start to stretch the thread to its breaking point.  Emotions can’t be turned on and off like a faucet, and when one tries to do that, one risks losing all control, of living with a constant flood of emotions, or shutting down completely.

But sure, there’s no harm in that.

skanks and the city

DAHLINGS! I’m so sorry for neglecting you the past few days, but the rigors of grad school finals, a day job, and hijinks in Manhattan unfortunately diverted my attention from this blog.   But fear not, for my graduate work is complete for the semester, my work is under control, and those big-city hijinks have given me plenty to write about.

I spent this weekend in the company of the one-and-only Ang Brockman, as it was her “22nd” birthday (because only amateurs say it’s their 21st birthday every year).  Ang decided she wanted to do a girl’s night out in New York City this year, since Manhattan is only about an hour’s train ride from where she lives in New Jersey.  So we prettied ourselves up, bought our train tickets, and before long we were in the Big Apple.

We ended up in the Meatpacking District, at ONE, a nightclub one of Ang’s co-workers recommended, where we danced, drank, and witnessed firsthand why civilization is doomed.

Within the writhing, grinding, sweating mass of bodies and limbs on the dance floor, I came to the realization that, among the many things my generation has, self-respect is not one of them.  I found myself getting sick to my stomach, not from the booze, not from the heat of the room, but from the way the people, especially the women were behaving – the way they were dressed, the way they were dancing, the way they would grab at any member of the opposite sex like it was the last Wii on the shelf on Black Friday.

The thing is, I’m not a prude.  It’s not like I’ve never been in a club before, like I don’t know what happens inside those dark, close rooms packed with attractive, inebriated people.  I’ve spent time in bars and clubs and done my fair share of “dirty dancing.”  I know the days of needing to see daylight between bodies is long gone.  So I didn’t expect to feel so damn disgusted when, as soon as I hit the dance floor, a young man grabbed my arm and started trying to grind his junk up against me.

As I tried to politely extract myself from the situation, I wondered why anyone would think that was an appropriate thing to do.  But as the night wore on, and I continued trying to avoid the more lecherous advances of the club’s male population and observing the plethora of beautiful people surrounding me, I realized there was no reason for the guys to think this behavior was inappropriate, because every other female in the club was lapping it up.

From the girl in the barely-there black mini-dress with the silver-sequined tits to the girl making out with a guy as she straddled him on one of the club’s velvet couches, ONE seemed to be a hotspot for Manhattan’s trashiest hos.  But that wouldn’t even bother me so much – I’m a very live and let live kind of person – if I didn’t automatically get thrown into the trashy ho-pile with them.  After all, why should any of the guys in that club suspect that I am any less skanky than the dozens of girls bumping and grinding and generally acting like they’re auditioning for “Girls Gone Wild?”

The part that got under my skin the most was how unaware these girls were of how their behavior looked to an outside observer.  Perhaps that was the alcohol talking, but somehow I sensed this shamelessness is something that’s inherent in them, alcohol or no.  Which makes sense, I suppose.  I’m no psychologist, but I guess when you think nothing of yourself, it doesn’t much matter what anyone else thinks of you.  I think if I would have seen even a glimmer of irony or remorse in someone’s eyes, I would have felt some sort of redemption for these girls.  As it was, I just felt very, very disgusted and sad.  And like I needed a shower.

What’s a girl with a little self-esteem and self-respect to do? Ang and I pondered over $10 plates of scrambled eggs (ah, New York) at a diner after we left the club about 4 a.m.  Conventional wisdom tells us that we’re better off without guys who automatically go for the skanky hos on the dance floor.  We know that’s true.  However, we also know that, given the choice between a classy woman who demands respect and a drunk skank who’ll pretty much fuck you on the dance floor, we know which one a guy will pick.  I’m not trying to let men entirely off the hook here, and there are exceptions to the rule, but let’s face it – if something’s being given away for free, you’re going to take it.

Right or wrong, I hold the women responsible in this situation.  The change has to come from them.  Throw away the skimpy clothes, stop letting guys grab at you like a goddamn nacho platter, and demand some respect.  And maybe we can all manage to avoid the Apocalypse.  Or at least a few dozen cases of herpes.

gray matters

Not surprisingly, the assertion in yesterday’s post that “It’s not cheating if it doesn’t happen in a bed” garnered a “WTF?” response (although only one, which I’m kind of suspicious about.  Either y’all are not reading this blog, or my friends have more questionable morals than I thought.)  In any event, I feel like I should clarify that obviously this is a joke, akin to the urban legend that if it happens in another area code, it’s not cheating (although really, feel free to spread it around.  I would love for someone to actually try and use this theory to defend infidelity.)

It does, however, bring up the always debateable question of what DOES constitute cheating.  We’ve already tackled why people in relationships commit infidelities, but the how of the indiscretion is another matter.

In thinking about it, what constitutes cheating and what constitutes sex are kind of the same question, insofar as most everyone agrees that good, old-fashioned vaginal intercourse is sex, as well as cheating.  However, outside of that, all bets are off and it becomes a matter of opinion.

Is oral or anal sex cheating? Does it depend on who is giving and who is receiving?  What about kissing?  And is there a difference between one kiss and a full-on makeout session?  What about if you’re straight, but you hook up with someone of the same sex? Does cheating even have to include physical contact?  What about flirting?  Sexting or cyber-sex? Or an emotional affair?  If you don’t actually touch, is it cheating?

See what I mean? It’s one great big gray area.

In search of answers, I turned to (what else?) the Internets, and discovered that (obviously) there are a lot of differeing ideas and opinions out there about this subject.  RomanceClass.com’s aptly titled “What is Cheating” article gave one of the best definitions of cheating that I’ve ever seen: “Cheating is about betraying trust, and about not honoring the commitment that two people have made to each other.”   I think that sums it up pretty well, because betraying trust and disrespecting commitment can happen in a lot of ways – fucking someone besides your significant other  (regardless of where the encounter takes place) can certainly be considered a betrayal of trust, considering (most) relationships are built on the understanding that you only fuck each other.  But it can also be done by being more emotionally open with someone besides your significant other, or by, as the article says, making someone else your priority while still in a relationship.

I also found an interesting article on AskMen.com that pointed out that some people consider one form of cheating “worse” than another, and that this difference of opinion is somewhat drawn along gender lines, which, when you think about it, makes sense to a degree.  Women tend to broaden the scope of cheating beyond physical contact to include emotional betrayals because, let’s face it, we’re typically more in touch with our feelings than men are.  To women, it might be more hurtful if a boyfriend/fiance/husband is confiding deep secrets to another woman, rather than just having sex with her, because it means as a female companion, she is not fulfilling her need as an emotional counterpart.  I also feel that, in the interest of fairness and objectivity, I have to say that there are women out there who feel a physical betrayal is less offensive than an emotional one, because guys can only think with one head at a time, and it’s not always the one attached to their neck.  I know how anti-feminist that sounds, and believe me, that excuse would never fly with me if a significant other had sex with another woman, but there you have it.

I think men, on the other hand, tend to place more importance on the physical betrayals because that is their realm.  If a man’s significant other is going elsewhere for sexual satisfaction, it means he’s not pleasing her, and that is a big blow to his masculine ego.  Also, I think it’s a lot harder for men to grasp the importance of emotional honesty and communication in a relationship.  Therefore, a guy might not see why it’s a problem to be divulging sensitive emotional information to a girl who is not his significant other, or might not be as bothered to learn that his girlfriend has a deep emotional connection with another guy, as long as there’s no physical contact involved.  Hell, I know guys who would probably be HAPPIER if their significant others had emotional affairs, so they wouldn’t be forced to have touchy-feely conversations about feelings and thoughts.

Even this speculation is still far too general, though.  At the end of the day, what counts as cheating is different to every individual.  A good barometer that I’ve always heard is, “If I’m doing something that I would be upset at my significant other for doing, it’s cheating.”  Basically the relationship version of the Golden Rule.  It’s not a one size fits all deal, and I don’t think it has to be.  Really, the’re’s only two people who need to agree on a definition of cheating – the two people in a relationship with each other.

What do YOU think is cheating?  I’d love to know, so feel free to leave comments!

who’s your daddy?

We owe today’s blog in part to my good buddy Stefan, whose mid-day admonishment to me for not yet posting a blog resulted in me requesting he become my sugar daddy, so that I do not have to work full-time in a freakin’ crazy busy office, and can therefore devote all my time to “Single in the City.”  He didn’t take me up on the offer (his loss), but the conversation reminded me of another interesting article I found on the Internets a while back: “Dating Web Site Brings Together Sugar Daddies, Babies Together at Last.”

So…having a sugar daddy.  Sleazy?  Sort of.  Creepy?  Somewhat.  Illegal?  Possibly.  Tempting?  Well…a little.

Now, let me clarify that.  I promise, if you log onto SeekingArrangement.com you will NOT find a profile of me posing like some Playboy Bunny wanna-be (although I do recommend checking out the site, because it is kind of hilarious.)  I may offer myself up as a sugar baby to male friends, but only as a joke.  In practice, I think I would make a terrible sugar baby; I’m too loud and obnoxious to be arm candy, I’m too proud to accept handouts, and when it comes to looks, I’m more Tina Fey than Megan Fox.  And something tells me that most sugar daddies are not looking for the hot nerdy chick in glasses.

But the notion of having a sugar daddy…I’ll admit, some days it looks pretty damn sweet.  I like my job and I like knowing that I earn my own money, and pay my own bills and all that female-empowerment rigamorole, but Goddammit, there is a part of me that thinks it would just be the bee’s knees to have rent and bills and college tuition taken care of by some generous, wealthy benefactor, so that I could spend my days studying and traveling and working on my Great American Novel and Great American Play and move into a luxury condo in Rittenhouse Square.  All in exchange for what?  My company?  My affection?  A roll in the hay?  The part of me that is cynical and practical and far removed from all that is good and moral says, “Hey, that doesn’t sound so bad.”  And I know a lot of you ladies (and maybe even some men out there) are thinking the same thing, so don’t judge.

So why not do it?  Well, because society tells us it’s wrong, basically.  Think about it.  People may say they wouldn’t do it because it’s immoral or sleazy or degrading, but even those reasons are rooted in the American attitude that it’s wrong for anyone (women especially) to be that honest and forthright and practical about sex and relationships.  In the ABC News article, former prosecutor Wendy Murphy likens a sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship to “prostitution, if not slavery,” which is probably how a lot of people would characterize these relationships, but I beg to differ.  To call the arrangement slavery indicates that one party is being forced into the arrangement against his or her will, and is not being properly compensated.  And that would be wrong and degrading and illegal.  But if both parties are being compensated, in whatever fashion they agree upon, and they both know what they’re getting into, and they’re ok with it – well then, who the hell is anybody else to stop them?

There are those who may argue that being a sugar baby is degrading to women, and it is to the extent that that sort of behavior is not indicative of all women.  On the other hand, I kind of feel like it is the ultimate form of sexual freedom and empowerment.  These women are saying, “Fuck the pretense of love and relationships.  I’m interested in material and personal gains, and my body is a perfectly good tool to use to achieve those goals, so why not?”  Some women want deep, meaningful, long-lasting relationships; others just want a guy to buy them designer shoes and gourmet dinners.  Society insists that girls who want the latter have to have the former to make it “legit,” when all it really does is ruin the integrity of relationships.  Better to be a sugar baby than a golddigger, I say; at least it’s honest.

I think what really keeps me from diving headfirst into the sugar baby pool is the fact that, of the two categories of women I listed above, I fall into the former.  Sure, material things are nice, and not having to worry about money would be heavenly, but at the end of the day, if I’m going to devote time and energy to a man, it’s going to be with the intention of forming a solid relationship based on an emotional connection, not a business transaction.  Which I guess is a sign that I do have a little bit of heart and soul left, regardless of what I might think sometimes.

Well, that, and the fact that if I ever did become a sugar baby, Mike Scatton would straight up murder my ass.  Thanks, Dad!

seeing double

Ok everybody, story time with Mama Krissy.  Some of you have heard this story before, but I like telling it, and it will illustrate the point I’m going to make today, so shut up and listen.  The summer after my older brother, Mike, graduated from high school, he, his girlfriend and a few other friends went to Ocean City, Md. for a week, unchaperoned.  While my parents had some misgivings about sending their red-blooded 18-year-old son off for what was sure to be a wild, weeklong orgy, they ultimately decided that, since he was technically an adult, was going to be moving away to college soon, and had a good head on his shoulders, they couldn’t really stop him from going.

I was 15 at the time, had not even begun dating yet, but I remember watching all of this unfold, and feeling like there was something amiss about the whole situation.  Finally, when going for ice cream with my parents one night, I voiced my concerns: “So, when I’m 18, if I have a boyfriend, and we want to go to the beach together, I’ll be allowed to go, right?” to which my father replied, “Absolutely not.”

I stopped dead in my tracks on the hot asphalt of the parking lot.  “Well, why not?” I asked.

My dad shrugged.  “Because you’re a girl.  Because it’s different.”

It was the first time I had felt the cold, cruel bitch-slap of the double standard.  Sadly, it would not be the last.  Nor would I be the only woman to feel the weight of its injustice on my shoulders.  Women and girls  are subjected to this conversation with parents, relatives, friends, lovers, etc., every day.  Sorry, Gloria Steinem.

I’m thinking about this today because last night I got into an argument (or as much of an argument as you can have via text message) with my friend Stefan about the double standard.  It all started when he cautioned me, as he is wont to do, to take my time in, shall we say, getting physically involved with people I’m dating.  Sound advice, to be sure.  Obviously there is a lot of value in taking your time and getting to know a person before adding the physical element and all of its complications to your relationship.  I won’t argue with him on that point.  And I do believe that his advice is sincere and from the heart, as a friend (although he would stand to benefit from me finding a functional relationship, as he wouldn’t have to listen to me bitch about my woeful love life anymore.)

So given all that, why, then, did I end up almost throwing my phone across the bedroom in frustration?  It’s quite simple; as I told Stefan, “If guys don’t want to have sex with me, then they need to STOP TRYING TO HAVE SEX WITH ME!”  That may sound like a paradox, and I guess in a lot of ways, it is.  What I’m trying to say is, there have been many times when I have been dating someone, and even though I really like him, and may really want to sleep with him, I have no intention of doing so (yet).  But then he invites me to his apartment to “order a pizza and watch TV,” and the next thing I know I’m being kissed and touched and I like it and I don’t really want to stop, but apparently I should because in a few weeks it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass because I moved too fast and didn’t take enough time to get to know this guy.

So, after my head explodes, I’m reminded of how, as a kid, you would get into fights with a sibling or a classmate or whoever, and, when caught, you would stomp your feet and cry and scream, “But he started it!”  Grown men often make me want to react in a similar manner.  If you start it, why am I being the one blamed for it?  Why, and maybe more importantly, how can this asinine double standard can still exist? Why am I, as the woman, always expected to be the one to show restraint, while men get to hide behind the excuse of “Guys are dumb and switch to thinking with their penis” (Stefan’s words, not mine) ?  How nice and convenient for them.  So, because you’re simple and easily controlled by an organ other than you’re brain, that absolves you from taking personal responsibility for your actions?  It’s a wonder men haven’t started trying to use this excuse for every fuck-up.  (Late for work? It’s my penis’ fault.  Rob a bank?  My penis made me do it.  Kill a man?  My penis fired the gun.)

My point is, if, in the long run, you’re only going to turn it around and throw it in my face and paint me as some sex-crazed vixen who tied you to the bed, gagged you and had my way with you, then let’s not have sex.  Let’s not even hold hands until we’re engaged.  Because guess what?  Even if a woman’s desire may not be as, um, easily visible, as a man’s, it doesn’t mean that it’s any less intense, or that it’s any easier for her to stop when things are getting hot and heavy.  Don’t put the onus all on us because “Chicks still have brains.”  (Also Stefan’s words.) Yes, we know; but sometimes we want to abandon our cerebral pursuits and give ourselves over to our body’s desires, and all we ask is that we be allowed to do it without being made to feel guilty or wrong or slutty.  If we hop into bed together too soon and it fucks things up, then it fucks things up.  But let’s take equal responsibility for the situation.  After all, it takes two to tango, right?