Archive for February, 2008

Spanking Makes You Kinky

So maybe that explains it…

Doing my morning rounds of RSS feeds, I came across this link in Mistress Matisse‘s blog.

I dunno if I agree though. I can’t say I know anyone who doesn’t have some sort of kink or “perversion”. Also they don’t really explain their definition of “sexual deviancy”. I know folks who think talking dirty during sex would qualify you as a deviant. On the other hand, I know a girl who enjoys being spit on and humiliated during sex (no I mean really humiliated, the less of an actual person she feels like during sex, the better it is for her) and everyone that knows her pretty much agrees that she fits the definition of “sexual deviant” (and these are people who are pretty out in the open with their kinks).

I grew up being spanked (pretty often too, I was a little hellion), and I admit, I have some kinks (nope not gonna list em here), but I don’t think it has anything to do with being spanked as a kid. If anything, I would connect it to the fact that I was just plain rough as a kid. I was a tomboy from the age of 6. Being the only girl in my neighborhood pretty much made sure of that for me. I fought, wrestled, rode bikes, climbed trees and did all the things that most boys did…because that’s all I had to play with. Boys. When a girl my age finally moved into my neighborhood, we played a bit, but she was too girly for my tastes. She wore skirts and kept her hair nicely done. Me, you couldn’t pay me to wear a skirt (except when forced to by the nazis in catholic school…maybe that explains my kinks…). For all that, I was never sexually promiscuous. Yes, I did the normal high school experimentation, but didn’t have actual “sex” until I was 19. Even when I started having sex I was picky about my partners. I had a monogamous relationship for over a year and a half; after that ended I had a series of partners whose numbers remain in the single digits. Then I got married.

That was it for me.

It was the same for my (older) sister. She was spanked too. She was my complete opposite. She was the “golden child” of the family. Very girly. Dated often. But wasn’t promiscuous. I think she actually had fewer partners than I did before she got married (I got married about two years before she did).

On the other hand, we’ve had friends (and family members) who weren’t spanked, but instead were sheltered. Once they got an ounce of freedom, they became the village bike.

Maybe me and my experiences are the exception and not the rule. But, then again, maybe it’s time we stopped being afraid of actually enjoying sex. Hell, even the Catholics stopped promoting the idea that sex for enjoyment (as opposed to strictly for procreative reasons) was bad. Not every position outside of missionary is deviant.

You like being spanked? Fine. You like being tied up? Go for it. You like having clamps put on your nipples and being shocked with low doses of electricity? Erm…well…if that’s your kink and you can find someone to participate with you…why not.

Folks want to tackle the problem of promiscuity and risky sexual behavior in teens, how about we start with what these little brats are watching on TV?

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There’s no such thing as “Happily Ever After”

This one isn’t going to win me any friends. I realise this, and I’m ok with it. But, ladies and gentlemen, it is time we woke up from this Disney induced fantasy that somewhere out there is the “perfect relationship”, and it’s just waiting for us to come find it. It isn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, deep down I’m a tried and true romantic. I believe that love at first sight can happen. I believe in soul mates. All that hokey BS that we’re spoon fed from the time we can understand Mother Goose, Brothers Grimm, and Disney I’m all for it. However, I don’t believe there is a such thing as a perfect relationship. Even the best relationships have problems.

Let’s be honest with ourselves. Humans are flawed. That means anything we engage in is flawed, even if it’s in the most minuscule way, regardless of how pure our intentions are. So if we go back to 9th grade algebra and accept that A+B=C, then one flawed human in a relationship with another flawed human, no matter how well matched they are, means that the relationship is going to have its problems. This isn’t a death sentence for relationships, and I’m certainly not advocating inter-specie relationships (ick). We just need to accept that nothing is perfect so we can stop striving for perfection and stressing ourselves out.

Let’s look at our favorite fairy tales. Where do they end? Most often on the wedding day. “Princess So-and-So married her beloved Prince Whoever and they lived happily ever after.” Realistically, life doesn’t stop on the wedding day. It doesn’t stop after the honeymoon, or after you have kids. Nor do we stop growing as people after any of these events. But your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, so what better place to end the story? Why bother looking down the road four years when Princess So-and-So is tired of being cooped up in the castle and Prince Whoever is too busy flirting with the courtiers to notice her misery? And who wants to hear about how irritating of a mother in law Queen Whatsherface is? No. Just end it when everyone but the bad-guys are happy.

Fairy tales and trashy romance novels sell this idea of the perfect relationship. But they don’t exist, and we need to stop pretending they do. Ask anyone who’s been married for 15 or 20 years, marriage is hard. Making it work is even harder. Dealing with two different personalities, who had two different upbringing, and have two different ways of doing things…there’s nothing easy about any of that. Add to that equation that both persons grow and change throughout the relationship. They develop hobbies and interests that don’t always coincide with the other persons. They have friends their other half can’t stand.

But we want perfect. We don’t allow for growth or change. No wiggle room for mistakes to be made. The minute the image of perfect gets the slightest hint of tarnish, that’s it. Towel’s on the mat. Fights over.

If we could get past this, we’d all be a lot happier. And I wouldn’t spend a good portion of my days helping friends (and sometimes near strangers) with their relationship issues. I don’t mean for you to settle with whatever is handed to you. Not at all. Happiness is necessary in any relationship. But happiness can’t be appreciated if there’s nothing to compare it to. However if you’re going to search for happiness in perfection, prepare to be very disappointed.

Everyone has issues and baggage that they drag into their relationships. Some of us heap these things onto our partners (whether they deserve it or not) without consideration of how it affects them. We’re blind to everything except how things affect us. We need to open our collective eyes and see our partners for the flawed humans they are and accept that they will never be anymore perfect than we are (and if you actually believe that you are perfect just as you are, then may I suggest that you live alone, possibly with cats, for the rest of your perfect, miserable life and spare the rest of humanity from having to deal with you).

Flip Cinderella the bird and you’ll find yourself a lot better off for it.

Umm…I need to work for Google.

Scrolling through the local want ads, I came across this…

Google: Massage Therapist, Table Massage – Ann Arbor Company: Google Inc.

Description
Classification:
This is a Full Time positionCompensation:
Google was recently recognized by Fortune Magazine as the #1 Best Company to Work For

Our most valuable resource is our people: energetic, innovative thinkers who care equally about doing great work and developing a culture that’s great for all our employees. So we offer Googlers a generous host of benefits as part of our efforts to keep Google a motivating, healthy, and productive place:

Health care for you and your family, vacation days and holidays, and flexible work hours, maternity and parental leave, employee referral bonus program, employee assistance services for personal issues, learning opportunities and tuition reimbursement, adoption assistance, Google Child Care Center ( near Google headquarters), free shuttle service to several Bay Area locations, Fuel Efficiency Vehicle Incentive Program, and onsite dry cleaning, plus a coin-free laundry room in the Mountain View office.

This position is based in Ann Arbor, MI.

The area: Human Resources – Benefits

Google employees have a wide variety of interests both inside and outside Google. We strive to design a unique benefits package that helps Googlers balance their busy lives and allow them to focus on the things they love to do. To that end, the Benefits group has developed a wide variety of comprehensive programs to meet the various needs of our diverse population. Among the programs we offer at our U.S. headquarters include a world-class children’s center, a wellness center with on-site physicians, four full-service fitness centers and massage services. We also provide gourmet meals, car wash and laundry services along with many other on-site services. All of these are offered are in addition to our top-tier health plans and a generous 401(k) matching program.

The role: Massage Therapist Table Massage Ann Arbor

Google’s massage program began in 1999 and maintains its status as the most popular onsite perk in the company (with the possible exception of our gourmet cuisine). The Massage Program is expanding rapidly in response to Googles growth by bringing soothing and therapeutic massage services to Googlers around the globe.

Google is seeking exceptionally talented massage therapists in the Ann Arbor, Michigan area to provide onsite massage therapy. We are seeking individuals who will be capable independent workers, as well as enthusiastic team collaborators. Successful candidates will enjoy interacting with our diverse employee population. The ideal candidate will have excellent interpersonal and communication skills, and advanced therapeutic massage skills.

Our massage team consists of highly trained and experienced professionals.

If you are an experienced massage therapist with great presence and quality of touch, who truly enjoys matching your expert technical skills with excellent customer service, then we encourage you to apply for this position. Help us to turn our tired and sore Googlers into relaxed and happy ones!

Responsibilities:

  • Provide high quality table massage work on a timely schedule.
  • Monitor sign up list and notify tardy clients, making a good faith effort to fill every available appointment.
  • Help to maintain the Zen-like massage rooms in working order, report on conditions, and provide a list of items to be restocked.
Requirements
Travel Percentage: 0%

  • Professional education and certification in Swedish and Deep Tissue massage, Associate’s or Bachelor’s Degree preferred.
  • Minimum 500 certified massage hours, must be documented in resume with dates and names of schools.
  • 3 or more years of professional massage work experience post massage certification.
  • National Massage Certification.
  • Ability to offer table massage.
  • Ability to work up to three 45 hr shifts Monday-Friday.
  • Computer skills to access and reply to Gmail and access programs to perform job duties.

Um…Yeah….I can do that.

No! No! No! No! NO!

This is NOT what the first amendment was written for you shit for brains moron! The First Amendment was written so you wouldn’t be locked away for criticizing the government. It was not designed to protect hate speech. It was not designed to protect “artistic expression” (read: pornography; no the two are not mutually inclusive, but there are people who defend porn by calling it an artistic expression; and while I don’t begrudge people their personal kinks, let’s call a spade a spade and stop pretending there’s anything “artistic” about bukkake). And it most certainly was NOT designed to defend your stinking little brat because he doesn’t like his principal. More over, calling a 43 year old man a “child molester” (I’m guessing the pre-pubescent idiot didn’t know how to spell pedophile), is not youthful fun and games. There is nothing funny about calling someone a pedophile.

But I’m getting ahead of myself…Read this:

FEBRUARY 21–The parents of an Ohio boy who was expelled this month for creating a phony MySpace profile that described his middle school’s principal as a child molester have filed a federal lawsuit claiming that the 13-year-old’s free speech rights have been violated by education officials. Toader and Marianna Osan claim that their son (who is identified only by his initials in U.S. District Court filings) was improperly booted from the eighth grade at Hillside Middle School in Parma after educators learned of the boy’s creation of a MySpace page for principal Jeff Cook. The MySpace profile, which was headlined “Your Princeypal,” did not carry Cook’s name, but it included his photo and identified him as the Hillside Middle School principal. The since-removed profile, an excerpt of which you’ll find below, listed Cook’s general interests as “giving students anal” and “jacking off in my office,” and named his heroes as Michael Jackson, Adolph Hitler, and Saddam Hussein. For his vulgar online handiwork, “M.O.” was first suspended, and then, on February 7, was informed that he was being expelled (for “malicious harassment”) until June 10, effectively the end of the school year, according to a court filing. His parents argue that students “disrespecting teachers outside of school is an age-old tradition, and one from which teachers neither need nor deserve protection…It would be naive to think that even the most popular principal is not the subject of student ridicule and parody.” The Osans are seeking their son’s immediate return to school and a judicial order protecting his off-campus speech, which previously included the observation that Cook had an affinity for the Purple Penetrator, a sex toy.

(Swiped from The Smoking Gun)

See what I’m talking about? But then I guess you can’t expect much from the child of someone named “Toader” (boy their parents must have hated them…or he was a FUGLY baby…possibly both). This is like those idiot kids out in Belleville, MI who had MySpace page showing them holding “fake” guns (that looked real) and “fake” drugs (oregano in a baggie anyone?), and talked about a big gang fight going down in front of the school. Stupid little bastards got expelled and the parents wanted to cry racism. GTFOOHWTBS. All these parents need to be publicly flogged and their kids sterilized to stem the spread of their own particular genetic stupidity.

Yeah…I know…that sounds harsh. But I’m in a harsh mood. And I can say what I want anyway…I’m protected by the First Amendment. Remember?

Oh you dumb mothafucka © T510

Answer me this: As a cop, how in the hell do you get caught up in a sting that your own people set up? This wasn’t a sting that another county or city set up. This is YOUR department, and you’re a damn deputy! Shouldn’t you know ahead of time to pull the hell out? And these are the people enforcing our laws. Don’t you feel safer already?

Deputy snared in prostitution sting

Wayne County officer, who isn’t being named, faces solicitation charges; he was among 18 arrested.

Santiago Esparza / The Detroit News

DETROIT — A Wayne County deputy was among 18 people arrested this weekend in a sting targeting prostitutes and pimps who used an Internet site to hawk escort services.

The deputy faces misdemeanor solicitation charges and his police powers are suspended, said Sheriff Warren Evans. He also will face department disciplinary action, Evans said.

“While we hate to have one of our own involved, we don’t treat him any different,” Evans said Sunday afternoon. He did not identify the deputy.

Fifteen women will be arraigned on misdemeanor charges Monday. Two men suspected of being pimps for some of the women will be charged with pandering, which is a four-year felony, on Monday.

“They were pimps,” he said. “They brought the women in and were going to transport them back.”

The women advertised their services via the Web site craigslist.com. Deputies investigating the complaints set up bogus encounters with the women Thursday and Friday at hotels in Dearborn Heights, Northville, Romulus and Taylor, Evans said. He would not name the hotels.

Most of those arrested would only discuss business face-to-face, Evans said. He said all of the women wound up offering sex for money. The women were charging from $60 for 15 minutes to $300 for an hour.

Small amounts of marijuana and heroin were also seized, along with about $3,000 and 10 cars, Evans said. Evans said the women and alleged pimps were local residents, but did not know exactly where they lived.

Solicitation may not seem like a big deal to some, Evans said, but it often accompanies other crimes like theft. He said the department will conduct similar stings in the future.

“I am sure we will periodically,” the sheriff said. “It is a quality of life thing.”

O.o

All I’m going to say is….
bewbs1.jpg
Ya’ll…..
bewbs2.jpg
Are some nasty bastards.

*slaps forehead*

(Swiped from The Smoking Gun)

FEBRUARY 5–A 19-year-old man was arrested Sunday night for singing the lyrics to a profane rap song as he walked on a Florida street. Christopher Holder was nabbed after a woman complained to police that her two children (ages five and 14) heard Holder repeatedly reciting the words “mother fucker,” according to a Hernando County Sheriff’s Office report, a copy of which you’ll find here. When questioned by deputies, Holder “immediately began arguing that he did nothing wrong,” and explained that he was merely covering a song by Louisiana rapper Lil’ Boosie, whose most recent album, “Bad Azz,” includes cuts like “My Nigga” and “Fuck You.” But Holder, pictured in the below mug shot, added that he “agreed that he did not believe children needed to hear language such as that being hollered down the road.” Holder was charged with disorderly conduct, a misdemeanor.

Ok….10 points to the person who can guess what our Boosie spouting friend looks like…

If you guessed geeky white boy….

YOU’RE RIGHT!

You saw that one coming a mile away didn’t you?

BEWBS!

Wow, blog’s not even a week old and already I’m talking about boobs. How much you wanna bet I’ll be talking about sex before the month is out?

During the holidays one of my favorite DJs got a boobjob done. And I can understand her reasons behind doing it (not that a grown woman has to justify what she wants to do with her body to anyone, but she’s a public figure [no pun intended] and knew there’d be endless questions, so she explained her reasons on her blog), however, as a card-carrying member of the Association for Large Busted Ladies, I have to say big boobs aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

(Don’t mind that slamming sound. That was just my two straight male readers walking out on me because I blasphemed teh bewbage. They’ll come back when I start talking about head or something.)

I sympathise with Holly. I really truly do. I wasn’t always cursed to carry two three pound sandbags on my chest. In seventh grade, the nickname this kid Omari had chosen for me was “two backs”. And I couldn’t argue with it. I was pretty flat chested. By 8th grade I had enough to say I had something up there. Just not a lot. (Omari had graduated by then so it didn’t really matter anymore)

9th grade blessed me with artists like Aaliyah, Boss, Lady of Rage, and Bahamadia who made it ok for girls to wear baggy clothes. Plus West Coast rap had pretty much taken over and the cholo look was ok here in the MidWest. All this was to my benefit because my training bra sized A-cups had popped into full blown B’s and were edging toward C (take note: I was about 5’2″ and 110lbs soaking wet holding bricks).

I kept my figure pretty well hidden for most of freshman and sophomore year (there are actually multiple reasons behind this, but I won’t get into them here). So much so that during a school play my drama class put on two of my closest male friends (Rob and Booker) damn near fell out their chairs when I walked on stage in a figure hugging white wool/angora dress (I was playing a woman with a crisis of faith who hadn’t been to church in a while, so I had to find something that spoke to that image…that dress seemed to work just fine). They turned to my best friend Toya and said “That’s Tori?” “That’s not Tori. Is it?” “Tori has a figure?” “When did she get a figure?” “When did she get those?” “Did you know she had those?” Toya, who had basically adopted me that previous summer because she lived a few blocks over and her family was much more sane than mine, just laughed. For months afterwards I had to deal with them (mostly Booker) going “You have boobs. When did you get boobs? Did you know you have boobs?” As though I could possibly miss them in my bathroom’s full length mirror.

Through high school I easily went from a B, to a C, to a D. By time prom rolled around I was just a few centimetres shy of DD. By January of my freshman year of college, I could no longer zip my prom dress all the way up. Where my boobs started, my zipper stopped. And all the creative inhaling and exhaling and contorting of my chest, spine, shoulders, and whatever other part of my upper body I could think of, couldn’t get it to budge. There went my gorgeous dress. Le sigh.

When I got pregnant, teh bewbs grew again. But this was normal, I was told. You’ll go back to your natural size in no time, I was told. Once you’ve stopped breastfeeding they’ll go down, I was told. Well, let me tell you, I was told a load of bullshit. They did not go back to my natural (now former) size. They did not shrink as promised. No. They stayed. Stubbornly at that. Even when I lost weight, they were still there. I was officially a DDD (yes, that’s 3 D’s), which is the equivalent to having having two boston terriers attached to your chest. (So what I’m exaggerating, it’s my damn blog)

Seemingly over night my underwear budget doubled. Where once I could get three really cute bras for $40 (five if I caught a sale at Target), I was now paying that much for one. And let me tell you, they aren’t always cute. There are a limited number of places that even sell bras in my size. I have to go to Lane Bryant if I don’t want to go broke. Being a size 10, that means I’m the skinniest heffa in there shopping for myself. Yeah, I get nasty looks. Lane Bryant doesn’t seem to like the idea of setting their bra rack up according to size. Just style. You’re on your own after that. They also don’t have the little tags on the tops of the hangers to let you know what size the bra is. So you have to go wading through rack after rack of bras to hopefully find one that fits. I have given up on doing this in-store. I just shop online. And while that solves one problem, I’m left with another one (in the bra department). Sports bras. My last one was a D, it ran me nearly $45. I can still wear it, but it doesn’t provide the necessary support I need to keep me, or anyone around me, from getting a black eye when they bounce around. Lane Bryant doesn’t sell sports bras in my size. Neither does Bravissimo (a UK based store that caters to large busted women…so I’d be paying in pounds, and insane shipping costs…yeah, that’s fun).

Beyond just the fashion aspect of this, these things are heavy. During my last yearly humiliation, I tried to subliminally tell my doctor that I wanted to her suggest a reduction for me. And I know she got the message, but she’s a member of the IBTC (Itty Bitty Titty Committee), and IBTC members generally have little sympathy for those of us in ALBL. Not that she’s not an awesome doctor. She’s great. I love her to bits. Only doc to ever get me to laugh during my yearly humiliation (she was telling me about how she wanted to tell one of her older male patients to quit whining about having to get a prostate check, and that if we can get a check every year from the time we’re 18, he can suck it up and get a check every year after he turns 50), but she wasn’t hearing me on the reduction. And if she doesn’t ok it, neither does insurance. And I know they won’t ok getting a lift (which I’d gladly take in lieu of a reduction). So teh bewbs and I are stuck together (literally), until I can prove to my doc that I need a reduction for health reasons, not just because I’m a little fed up with not being able to just look down and see my feet.

Thoughts on infidelity

This whole Kwame thing has me thinking about cheating, specifically when you’re the one being cheated ON, and I gotta say Carlita Kilpatrick’s (public) reaction has been a pretty good example of what you SHOULD do when you catch your mate/spouse/SO/whatever cheating.

I’m the first to admit that cheating isn’t always an indication of love lost between to people. You can be with the most wonderful person in the world, but if there’s something lacking (no matter how small it may seem) that’s a door for someone who fills that need to come through. Not only that, but sometimes, sometimes, shit just happens. You don’t plan it. You’re not looking for it, it just happens. I’m not talking late-night-out-drinking-with-friends/coworkers-getting-drunk-and-knocking-boots type shit happening. I’m talking about that one time in a million where your guard is down and the right person just HAPPENS to come on by. Now, I have to say this particular reason for cheating…it’s really a pretty piss poor excuse, but it happens. Which is why it’s the “shit happens” reason. Because (all together now) shit happens.

My personal approach to cheating (or, rather, being cheated on), came together right before I got married. My husband was doing a lot of touring at the time, and I told him, flat out, right before we were married “Shit happens. Just don’t let it follow you home.” I’m not dumb. I’ve been to plenty of concerts and shows (big and small) and I know how those groupie heffas are. Some just don’t care. If my man is out on the road for months at a time and has a moment of weakness, so be it. I just don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t want it coming home with him. This means no babies, no diseases, no crazy stalker heffas who don’t get the idea of “one night stand”. None of it. The minute it hits my doorstep, we’re going to have problems. It also means don’t come confessing to me. I’m forgiving, but you catch me on a bad day and you’ll be chilling on the curb.

So here are my thoughts on being cheated on, and what to (and not to) do when you find out about it:

1. The one IN the relationship (cheater) bears the largest portion of blame.

No matter what the circumstances, this is, and will always be, true. I can’t think of any situation where the opposite would be true. Even if the person they were cheating with (here on out known as the co-cheater) knew they were in a relationship, the cheater knew before anyone else. Therefore the cheater bears the majority of the blame.

2. Blaming the co-cheater is a waste of time.

This one is related to the first one. I’ve seen women make this mistake more often than men. Instead of getting mad and confronting the cheater, they get mad and go after the co-cheater. WRONG MOVE! As I said above: The one in the relationship bears the largest portion of the blame. You can let the co-cheater know that the cheater is in a relationship and has been lying to the both of you, if you feel (or know) that the co-cheater is unaware of this fact. However, the blame does not rest heavily on the co-cheater (except in cases where the co-cheater happens to be family or close friends…at which point you may want to reevaluate your friendships and maybe disown a few family members).

In cases where the co-cheater is aware of the fact that the cheater is in a relationship, confrontation shouldn’t really go beyond letting the co-cheater know that you know. If they know the cheater is in a relationship and they sleep with them anyway, they obviously couldn’t care less whether or not you get upset or pissed off. So don’t waste the emotional, physical, or mental energy to cuss them out or threaten them with violence. They don’t care.

3. Relationships can rebound from cheating; but don’t expect it to be the way it had been.

Some folks throw in the towel once infidelity has been discovered. I don’t think that’s always necessary. I’m not one of those rose-colored-glasses optimists but I do think that some relationships (I repeat: some relationships) can be salvaged after cheating. It takes work on both parts, and the cheater can’t expect the cheatee to just trust them right off the bat. There’s going to be some mistrust and suspicion, especially immediately afterwards. If you can, and want to, work on the relationship, it can survive. But it ain’t easy, and it ain’t gonna happen overnight.

4. Cheating isn’t about looks.

One thing that my friends and I (and everyone else) have been talking about is the fact that Christine Beatty doesn’t even compare to Carlita Kilpatrick looks-wise. There’s even an email going around comparing her to Scottie Pippen (which is just wrong, but so damn funny anyway). People can’t understand why Kwame would pick this over this. What we fail to realise is that cheating has nothing to do with looks (ok, I can’t say this is the case 100% of the time, but for the most part it is). It has more to do with the connection and chemistry between two people. Sometimes that fresh connection is just too much to resist. Not that I’m justifying cheating. I’m not. Adultery is pretty low on my list of commandments to break. But this is the reality of things. It sucks, but that’s how it is.

5. There is a difference between emotional infidelity and physical infidelity; but both can be equally devastating.

This one sort of speaks for itself. It’s probably easier to get beyond emotional infidelity, but it still leaves a scar on the relationship.

6. It is never the cheatee’s fault.

Ok, so maybe “never” is a broad brush, but 99.9999% of the time, there is little the cheatee could have done to prevent the cheater from cheating.

7. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Or however that saying goes. To beat an oft beaten dead horse, communication is important. If there is a weakness in your relationship, address it before it leads to something bigger.

For example: Your SO doesn’t share your libidinous nature. Not that they aren’t good, they just aren’t the sex hound you are. Once every other day is enough for them, but three times a day is just getting by for you. Talk with your SO, you never know what could come of it. They could tell you to head to adultfriendfinder.com (thanks to Jeremy for bringing it to my attention that this website even exists…you nasty freak lol) and find yourself a discreet playmate to satiate your raging appetite. Or they could tell you to get over yourself and find a hobby that helps you expend some of that extra energy in a non-sexual manner.

Of course you could talk about this before you get too deep into your relationship, or address it when it does come up, and therefore stem the problem before it becomes the 400 lb gorilla in the room. But this takes some openness and honesty and the ability to deal with the fact that your perfect match may have some parts that don’t match up with yours exactly. A tall order for most people.

8. Get over it.

Yep. Get over it. They cheated. You ended the relationship. It’s over. Now move on. Don’t sit there and dwell on it. Don’t become bitter over it. Don’t hold the next person responsible for what the last one did. Learn the lessons that are there to learn and K.I.M.

ohshitohshitohshitohshit