Sex

Fruitcake, Saran Wrap, and Papier-Mâché Dildos

A holiday sex quiz by Jeannie Greeley and Sureyya Moschella

Due to the overwhelming success of last year’s holiday sex quiz, after which I was asked to create sex quizzes for Flag Day, Veterans’ Day, and Easter, I decided to whip up another festive installment. Once again, I solicited the help of British-­statistician-­turned ­go-­go-­dancer Sureyya Moschella.

Two Legs, Over Sleazy

The joys of morning sex

Is there anything better than a hot gale of gnarly breath in the face to get you in the mood? How about smeared day-old makeup, or the stench of last night’s cigarettes and beer? Crusty eyes, anyone?

If these appalling images sound like a collection of the world’s greatest turn-offs, apparently you weren’t listening hard enough when Diana Ross crooned about being touched in the morning. Despite its decidedly less-than-sexy reputation, morning sex is a personal favorite of mine, and something I believe belongs in every person’s sexual repertoire.

Money Talks

Balancing finances in a relationship

There is a simple mantra in my relationship lately: “No fighting.” It has nothing to do with the occasional fit of rage or emotional flare-up. It came about to reduce the animated sparring matches that erupt in restaurants upon the delivery of the bill, when each of us break into a martial-arts routine to prevent the other from picking up the tab.

Our exhaustion from this game led to the “no fighting” declaration. Now whoever utters it first wins the check.

In the sack: Letters from readers, November 4, 2008

You guys know the deal with this. You ramble; I bite. Please keep the brilliant correspondence coming.

Your column [on bowel movements in a relationship] was both funny and engaging. You should be aware that this phobia is a pretty uniquely feminine issue. Guys have no problems talking about it or even blasting the bowl noisily and odiferously in adjacent stalls. Dutch ovening (if you’re not familiar with the term, Google it) with significant others is a not􀀐uncommon occurrence, either. We men do discuss, however, the fact that it’s frequently difficult to picture or imagine women (especially the lovely, petite, shy, and demure things) doing the deed. If you can bypass your aversion to potty humor, you should check out poopreport.com. These are endless (and often surprisingly beautifully written) tales of people’s personal, hilarious, and embarrassing moments on the subject. Apparently they are a part of human nature.
Hot Shit

On the couch with a jailhouse lover

She had searched the bars. She had haunted the nightclubs. All the while, a toxic relationship plagued her every move. After years of spiraling downward into debauchery, my longtime friend finally hit rock bottom and wound up in jail. Never did she imagine that this hellhole would become her haven, the place where she’d meet the girl she now calls her soulmate. This is one woman’s story of personal triumph in the face of fat, scary drug addicts in muumuus. (Both women’s names have been changed; we’ll call them Violet and Corky, in a nod to a lesbian ex-con made famous by Gina Gershon.)

#2 with your #1

Once upon a time I was falling in love with a woman. And then she pooped.

Everyone poops, people protest when I mention my relationship pet peeve. This I know. It was how it was done that disturbed me so much: one stray pellet carelessly left floating for me to discover. At that moment, she fell from her tower.

That one little nugget came to symbolize everything that was wrong with a relationship hopelessly out of balance — me constipated by my relentless neuroses, trying so hard to impress; her confident enough to move her bowels after only a handful of dates and not even double check the flush.

That one little nugget came to symbolize everything that was wrong with a relationship hopelessly out of balance — me constipated by my relentless neuroses, trying so hard to impress; her confident enough to move her bowels after only a handful of dates and not even double check the flush.

Puma power

Navigating the urban jungle sometimes means having sex with younger people. Is there anything wrong with that?

I lurk in the shadows at seedy bars, stalking my prey with their dewy faces and high cheekbones. I wait for them to grow distracted by their new iPhones, and then I pounce.

I am puma, hear me . . . hiss?

“Puma.” I hadn’t heard of the classification until a friend gave me the label when I was extolling the virtues of sex with women born when I was in high school. Tired of the whole cult of the cougar, those 40-somethings hunting younger male victims, I was at once insulted and confounded by the reference. Me, at the ripe age of 32, branded as the next generation of acceptable hag?

In the sack: August 26, 2008

It’s been an interesting few months. I’ve received letters from readers ranging from multi-page diatribes to essays titled “Why Men Don’t Have Friends and Why Women Should Care.” While I’d love to share them all with you, I’ve selected some of the finer excerpts from the freaky and frustrated fans out there.

On the couch

Wed Case

Disappearing Acts

In the sack: letters from readers

Friends with no benefits: why do I need my exes to like me?

On the couch ... with three straight shooters from the sperm bank

Bad vibrations