Wednesday, 28 January 2009

Danonymous Dan: Lo..ooooower

Ah… love is in the air. Love is in glances that you share. Love is all over the sheets and in a rubbery tissue ball in the bin by the bed. She catches your eye and smiles at you expectantly and you smile back. You lie back with your head upon a pillow in a comfortable silence letting your mind wonder – you think back to how you first met, the first time you fooled about, the early weeks of your fledgling relationship onward through time going over dates you went on, parties, your first shag. On and on till it dawns on you that you’ve been dating for eight months and recently she’s said the word ‘love’ a lot. ‘Isn’t this or that thing loveable…I love this toothpaste…aren’t Bill and Jane so in love, they are a lovely couple. Suddenly you realise what exactly that expectant smile was actually expecting. Three words.

No, not ‘Fancy a shag.’ But, I…L…L love you. Oh God. Now you realise the reason she’s been swallowing lately. Then you experience a moment of regret as you also realise she hasn’t actually accepted your argument that swallowing is ‘just good manners’ as you have to swallow enough liquid to rehydrate a cupa-soup when licking her out. 

I’ve always tended toward long-term relationships. For me general dating around and playing the field is what’s most difficult. But it appears to be the case, or at least a strong perception, that men shy away from the L-word like it’s a prostate exam. Why? There is the obvious idea that it’s linked to a new level of commitment and by not saying it a guy can delude himself that he’s not that committed, and is still somewhat of a free spirit still. But really what is so great about being a free spirit? Ok, you can fuck about without guilt or remorse – that is true. But then again, if you’re in a relationship where your partner is looking like they’re expecting you to say ‘I love you’, then you probably have sex on tap and assuming you work at it that sex is likely to get better. Plus, you have all the perks such as the ‘little things’ I mentioned in a previous blog. So why are they holding back from the brink of the love precipice? When is the right moment, if not now?

The obvious answer to the question is: ‘when it feels right’ so lets just dismiss such pleasant easy thinking for the nonsense that it is. I am sure that for some few martini drinking beautiful people, things are perfect in their lives, they’ve never been hurt by anybody, never over extended their feelings, never been harshly dumped and never been cheated on nor lost somebody they loved. For those few people ‘when it feels right’ is fine and I wish them well in Narnia or ‘Imagination Land’ or wherever the fuck they live. But things are more complicated in the real world and people’s feelings move at difference speeds.  Which leads to the next conundrum, you say it first, and then your partner holds out…

That’s a tough one as it puts a strain on things – suddenly it becomes crystalised that one member of the relationship is investing more emotionally than the other (or at least, that is the perception). That hurts the person doing the investing because – if I can continue the financial metaphor – the other potential investor appears not to view the risk as one that will yield a sufficient ROI to make it part of their portfolio over the long term.

I think the problematic idea of ‘Romance’ plays a key part in the overall problem. If love was not seen as intrinsically linked with ‘magic’ and ‘just knowing’ or as something fairy-like that is just ‘in the air’ I think we’d all be a lot better off. Romantic notions and magic moment mumbo jumbo is lovely in principal but encourages us to abrogate the responsibility for love to some ethereal level that we have no control over. Relationships are about compromise and so is love. But you can’t compromise with something that is so high up on a magic pedestal that its somehow a taboo to talk about it lest you tarnish its fragile nature and cause it to smash to the floor and explode into a thousand tear coloured pieces. I’m not drawing strong conclusions about this subject so I’m sticking it up for debate – when do you reckon its right? How do you get both people there at once?

When I was younger, a girlfriend of mine was doing me the honour of blowing me, and she was doing a particularly good job. As I lay back moaning, the three words started to slip out of my mouth in a rather salacious moan… my brain fired up half way through the word ‘love’ and I ended up saying “ooh… I Lo..ooooower…” Didn’t want to ruin the moment for myself after all.

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

Sam: Where do you get your rush?

Long term relationships – they can be tricky things. Security it all very well, but where do you get your excitement from when you are in for the long haul? Let’s face it, when you have been working hard all day, when the credit crunch is on and you are worried about your job, it’s hard enough to just keep a relationship ticking over, let alone keep it exciting.

The thing about first falling in love is that it is exciting. It is full of adrenalin, ups, downs, and you body and brain get pumped full of the love drug, PEA which makes your tummy flip, your palms sweat and gives you those lovely rose coloured glasses that only let you see the good part of your other half. Taling about excitement, interestingly, Psychology Today is calling 2009 the year of living dangerously. Apparently when women are exposed to higher stress levels they are more likely to engage in casual sex and risk taking. 2009 is apparently going to be the year of the affair.

This comes back to my original point – where do you get your excitement in a relationship? The fact is, that after a certain amount of time it just becomes really comfortable. You chat about your day, what your friends have been up to and sit and watch a DVD together and maybe get a bit of excitement by trying a new type of wine. Not exactly sizzling stuff. At this point, oxytocin, the snuggle drug has kicked in – the one that makes you feel warm, comfortable, secure and want to feather your nest. The trouble is that certain type of people, I think actually most people need some sort of excitement as well as security. They long for that rush, that adrenalin, that kick that makes you feel alive. I think the most obvious option for most people becomes and affair – it is exciting, gives the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the catch and kill, the rush of skulduggery.

But what people are forgetting is what they are really looking for is the rush. I’ve certainly had to confront this in my own relationship – I’m snug as a bug, in a rug. But started to notice, well, for all that snugness, well it was . . . a bit boring. Instead of bowing to the temptation of an affair (and embarrassingly there are no shortage of offers), I’ve realised it’s the rush I need. Instead I get it rock climbing every week – nothing like your body thinking it’s going to die to get the adrenalin going. I get it in the gym almost every day – pushing myself so hard that the endorphins go mad to try take away the pain. I get it going out and having a boogey.

The thing is that all this takes planning, planning how you are going to get your rush. You’ve got to work at it and schedule it in. You’ve got work at find enough climbing partners, you’ve got work at pushing through the pain at the gym, you’ve got to work at convincing your 30 something friends that it really is worth going out dancing. To be frank it’s bloody hard work. No wonder so many people take the easy option – websites for married men and women wanting affairs are booming this year. So what about you, where do you get your rush? How do you deal with the security/excitement conundrum?

Monday, 26 January 2009

Something for the ladies # 27

Ladies: If there's ever been anything about men you've wanted to know but were afraid to ask, or wanted a male viewpoint on a certain relationship niggle you're going through, drop an email to us at todger dot talk @ googlemail dot com. We shall pick one out and answer it to the best of our capabilities.

This week's question...

SC writes: I've been with a chap for a couple of years and it's always felt a bit unequal in terms of effort and affection invested. A few months ago, after a particular exchange, I said I couldn't continue as it was too painful to care so much and receive such a poor level of return. After a couple of weeks, however, I swallowed my frustration and proposed trying to work things out.

While we were apart his ex-girlfriend got in touch out of the blue and they went for a drink. I was initially wholly unbothered – I'm not particularly jealous; I've always snared girls for group sex antics with those I've dated and never previously had a problem with exes etc. It transpires that she's keen on restarting things, though, and that they had 'a bit of a kiss'. As we were kind of split up at the time I was prepared to accept and move on, but I later accidentally see the start of a message saying something like 'I love having your cock in my mouth, God I missed you - thank you for my night of violation..'. I understandably want to check what the fuck's going on, so ask if he's considering reviving anything with her.

He unconvincingly dismisses what I saw as fantasy on her part, and replies: 'well, not at the moment, no'. So suddenly I'm bothered. This is surely an outrageous response - you don't leave open the possibility of resurrecting things with your ex if you're supposedly serious about who you're currently with, right? Rather than at least admitting it's objectionable he angrily calls my concern 'pathetically neurotic' and 'quite some feat of paranoia', which is actually the most galling part – I'm calmly rational and just want to know where I stand. If nothing happened he should go out of his way to categorically explain and reassure, however tedious, and if it did he should have the balls to be upfront. Amidst this uncertainty I'm supposed to be totally at ease with them hanging out. I would like to be, I just think it's an unreasonable expectation given the absence of clarity. The couple of friends I've run his line past have looked at me with confused pity for still being around, but I'm interested in an impartial opinion from you guys.

‘Mr Sex’ says: Fucking hell.

Alright, first things first; yes, he’s being a bell-end. Taking a reasonable accusation (“You’re carrying on with your ex”) and throwing it back in someone’s face (“You’re being paranoid”) is the mark of a twat and a Jeremy Kyle guest. Of course you’re going to be bothered about an ex appearing from nowhere, even if it didn’t involve text-filth, and if he can’t see that, he’s being a tosser. Taking into consideration your assertion that you’re giving a lot out and getting next to fuck-all in return, the only possible course of action is to realise things aren’t going to get any better, and get shot of him as soon as humanly possible.

What I want to address, however, is this nipping out and getting other women in for threesomes business, because – unless you’re careful as fuck, know what you’re on with, and have the right partner of similar temperament – it’s a recipe for disaster every time. Christ on a crisp packet, it’s hard enough to trust someone in a standard relationship these days – bringing other people into the mix requires monumental levels of trust, and intense boundary-drawing of Berlin-after-the-war-proportions. Otherwise, you’ll be onto a wrong ‘un from Day One: you might be thinking “Hey, I’m really open and understanding to my partner’s needs”, but the wrong partner will interpret that as “Wahey! My girlfriend doesn’t care who I give a portion to! Skill! Where the slags at?” (By the way, did you ever suggest that it might be a good idea if you could bring another man into the equation, and was he cool with that? Thought not.)

Of course, that’s not saying that an open relationship of the type you’re hankering after is impossible (and I’m hoping that one or two of our readers who dabble in that field might be able to put you straight here) – it just needs more work than the standard type. I suggest you move on, learn, and go after what you want with someone worthy of your openness.

Sam says: In this sort of situation, it’s all about watching what he's doing, and ignoring what he's saying.

1) While you're attempting to patch things up, he is getting together with an ex and clearly getting his end away.

2) He takes, takes, takes takes in the relationship and doesn’t give you what you want back – he’s a blood-sucking relationship vampire

3) He clearly doesn’t have much invested in the relationship, because he’s already warming up his Plan B.

He’s a lost cause. Forget it. Move on. The only question you should be really asking yourself is; why are you still with such a tosser? Why are you putting up with getting so much less than you give?

The problem is athough you don’t want to admit it, you’ve invested a lot in this guy. You’ve spent a couple of years in your life hoping that things will get better. They haven’t, but it takes guts to chuck away that investment. It’s a bit like having put a whole lot of money into your savings account, and then the bank is shafting you like crazy by not letting you take your money out and giving you an absolutely shitty interest rate. The smart thing is to cut your losses, get out and start up with a new bank that will actually treat you properly. The problem is when they suggest that things might get better, there is a little bit of you that wants to believe them, a little bit that hopes you really are going to get your hands on all that hard-earned cash again.

Try this little trick; every time you think about staying with him, pause, have a bit of a stretch (to shift you into neutral) and then think about the five worst, most horrible, awful things that he has done to you. Really remember them in detail, how they felt, looked, sounded, maybe even smelt. Really remember how horrible and shitty he made you feel. Then ask yourself; ‘Should I stay with him?’. Your brain is smart, and moves away from pain – I can pretty much guarantee the answer will be ‘Get the hell out, right now!’. Repeat as necessary every time you waver.

Also, if you are into the whole swinging thing, go out, get on some websites and have some fun with some other couples. As a woman you are in the position of power and get to pick and choose who you fancy most. That way you get to be the centre of attention, have people chase you, and get reminded that you are sexy and attractive and that there are people out there who are willing to give rather than just take. Hopefully it will give you some extra powder in your keg to blow this idiot off.

Readers of TT: Comment!

Thursday, 22 January 2009

Sam: Bye Bye to your Bush

I saw this and had to share . . . alas, if only we'd used the bush removal cream eight years earlier . . .

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

'Mr Sex' and his Miniscule Spendings

Sorry to drag up old posts, but allow me, if you will, to revisit this particular topic. As I pointed out, the American porn industry generates about $13,000,000,000 per year, which is pretty impressive. Even more impressive when you realise that my contribution to that figure is precisely nuppence. Obviously, given my previous profession and my current one, I've managed to blag all manner of grot and toyness, but even before then I was a total mingebag to the sex industry.

Last night, whilst being unable to sleep, I worked out to the best of my abilities how much money I'd laid out over the course of my lifetime in the name of smut. And here it is;
Copy of Men Only, from mate who nicked it out of his Dad's garage, 1982 - £1.50

Phone call made to wankline in the back of Sunday paper, 1 minute, 1984 - £0.80

Porn video catalogue, 1985 - £0.24 (price of stamp and self-addressed envelope)

Vibrator, from Skegness pound shop and hidden in mate's car, 1990 - £1.00

Grand total - £3.55
Three and a half quid. Hm. That's not kept anyone in the business in tit jobs and hard drugs, has it?

What makes it even worse is that when I worked on wank mags, I was the Pogo Patterson of
pornography. I learned one thing very quickly; the incredible bartering power of filth. At least once a week, I loaded up on grot, shoved it into a record bag, and would distribute it amongst the populace (who had the money for smut, but not the intestinal fortitude to pay for it) in return for all manner of services. Four copies of Penthouse - eighth of hash. One of Asian Babes, Readers Wives, Real Wives and New Talent - a second-hand jacket I'd had my eye on for ages. Big stack of filth - free drinks in the pub.

My biggest score was`a deal with a mate of a mate who would let me pick out three Playstation game in his shop for a bag full of porn CD-ROMS. Seeing as they were all free covermounted gifts on mags, and were found by me in a bin in the office, I'd say it was a pretty successful transaction. That's the great thing about porn - worth considerably more when you don't have it, worth considerably less when you do. If this recession everyone's banging on about really kicks in, I fully predict that all currency will be rendered obsolete and transactions will be made exclusively through wank material. Newsreaders will announce that the Escort has dropped five points against the Dildo, and OPEC
has increased the value of a barrel of oil to an all-time high of 75 Razzles.

But anyway. If someone like me has spent arse all in the name of Porn, that has to mean that someone else has spent considerably more. So fess up, TT'ers - how much have you, er, spunked on porn over the course of your life?

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

Sam: Bombing on the basics

You know it always amazes me how many people bomb on the flirting basics. I was at a party on the weekend, packed to the brim with friendly Aussies, Kiwis and the odd noisy South African. Like any party, if you want to, it’s pretty easy to talk to anyone there – you have an immediate connection – the host. Wander over, start chatting and it’s the easiest question in the world ‘how do you know X (the host)’. Provides an immediate point of connection and conversation. Of course because you are all in the same boat, that person will always talk to you opening the path to whatever may happen next.

So as the night wore on and I continued to consume a few too many vodka cocktails I got chatting with this guy. Usually at parties I can’t help myself, and somehow the conversation came around to the girls he fancied at the party. And how he hadn’t talked to them, or rather particularly the one dressed as a rather attractive bunny (yes it was a fancy dress party).

Now unfortunately for him, I was too sozzled at this stage to make an effective wingman. I.e. wander over, chat to the person bunny girl was talking to. He gets to wander over with me, and the natural thing is for him or bunny girl to start chatting. Takes away all the fear of the approach. I got distracted by feeling a bit peckish and wandered off to the kitchen for a sausage roll. Cut scene to two hours later. Bunny girl is in the kitchen talking to another man, bunny fancying guy is out in another room chatting to someone else and still hasn’t talked to her. I am still way too hammered to do anything about it.

But good lord, it does truly amaze me how many people simply totally fail to talk to someone they find attractive. Even when there are copious quantities of inhibition reducing alcohol involved. Even when you are at a party where everyone is a friend of a friend, or at the very least a friend of the host and you must be ok, because well, you are a friend of the host! Even when you are a party where everyone is a friendly chatty antipodean and they will always talk to you. Even at an English party, they will always talk to you.

So if you are at a party, at least get off the starting block, please talk to that person you’ve got you’re eye on. Or if I’m there make sure you give me several pints of water and I promise I won’t wander off for a snack in the kitchen. We’ll I’ll try not to . . .

Monday, 19 January 2009

Danonymous Dan: Boffing the Nanny

Ok so some of you appear to want to know how my girlfriend and I met and how, against Atlantic-sized odds, we’ve managed three years. Well here’s the story of our meeting. At the time I was dating a girl in London, but things had been dying for a while, so when the possibility of a month away seeing my brothers, having weddings and going scuba diving came up I was all over it like tits on a top-shelf. My trip ended up in California visiting with my 3rd brother and as it drew to a close, I was in no rush to head back, I extended my trip by a week. It was during this extended week that I met my current girlfriend…

I’ll just take a moment to explain my mind-set at the time. From a relationship perspective the trip was the perfect way to put a bit of physical distance between myself and my ex.  We were both bored of each other but neither had the inclination to end things. ‘Bad me’ had fully been intending to try and get his end away during the trip mainly for fun, but also make it morally impossible to stay in that relationship – screw ‘good me’ into a moral corner, if you will. Various things – including the knowledge that it was wrong to do so – conspired to thwart my attempts. I mean, if you’re staying in a hostel in the Cook Islands and you don’t manage to get your wick wet then your heart just isn’t in it.

The week extension meant my brother’s time off had ended and he was back at work, so he enlisted the help of the girl who used to Nanny for his children. The actual flow of events during our first meeting is totally jumbled for me, as I fancied her the moment I saw her. I’m not going to be as floptarded as to say ‘love at first sight’, but it was certainly ‘fuck me at first sight’. She’d just come from the gym and was wearing LuLu lemon workout trousers that looked like they’d been sprayed on in a latex factory. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her arse – which made conversation tricky as I had to stand behind her. However, I really don’t believe in love at first sight, but my nephew could have been licking the plug socket at the time and I’d not have noticed. She sounded confident, looked it and was pretty and seemed nice – I was smitten.

I still remember the thrill of talking to her for the fist time, doing my level best not to sound a twat, and pull off an air that suggested I was both sweet, but also Bond-like and able to kill a man with my sheer masculinity. I failed. She loves to tell people I was wearing ‘rafting sandals’ and looked a spod. In my defence, they were a pair of very comfortable and extremely practical Teva walking sandals, that I am sure bond would wear on is days off. At the time she was living with her long-term boyfriend of six years. He was a rather, er, limited individual who had a penchant for road rage and jealousy – one of those ‘fighty’ sorts. Not blowing my own trumpet (if only, eh?) but that wasn’t a hard act to follow and she and I spent two days seeing sites and enjoying each other’s company. I was enjoying myself so much I extend my trip again. There was, of course, still the nagging problem of my existing girlfriend. But that went away pretty sharply, because following the email announcing the second trip extension she phoned me up and said that she had been going to wait till I got back but decided it was best to do it now – then broke up with me.

I felt fucking great. I may have said thank you.

On day three we had we went to a Mexican restaurant in San Diego Old Town and drank till the small hours. We’d discussed the idea of getting a hotel room already, but under the rather transparent guise of it being too far get a taxi if Michelle got too drunk to drive back. Plus, and this is the important bit, Old Town is next to SeaWorld where my family (who had recently arrived from NZ on their way through back to the UK) were going for a day out as a treat for my two nephews. We got kicked out of the restaurant at about 11.30, said good-bye to her friends found ourselves in exactly the situation we had foreseen. Oh look, a Marriot hotel across the way and both of us with overnight bags… how convenient. We should get one room, right? They all have two queen-sized beds in anyway…

So we checked into the hotel room… then fucked each other’s brains out. Starting around midnight and finishing around 4.30 in the morning.  Yes, I boffed the nanny. The next day, it was a ‘fuck-knackered’ pair who did the walk of shame around SeaWorld. My parents tried to pretend they didn’t know of such things, my brother and his ex wife tried a divide and conquer method to get gossip and my nephews…well they just babbled about dolphins. That day was also the day that my girlfriend dumped her ex and moved out…

Friday, 16 January 2009

Lee: Is it wrong if it's dead?

Many years ago, me and another comedian were both bemoaning the fact that we had both been having a lean spell. He had been having a particularly lean spell – he had three women who had knocked him back in three days, all using the B word. We were doing a gig in Leister Square and crying on each others shoulders. One of our rules was that we would never go out with someone that is in a relationship. That is just not happening.

A couple of weeks later that went out the window. For a single guy, that was an entirely new seam that you didn’t realise was out there. There were loads of women in relationships that are dead, and they are just looking for something else, more so with women. I feel that when women are in relationships, they are looking for something to jump ship to. They need a confidence boost to move on. This happened to me a lot of times, and you think, well this is the role I’m playing, I’m having fun anyway. Occasionally you would find they were looking to jump ship to another relationship, or they just use you as a bridge to jump to another relationship. There was one girl, who was in a really bad long term relationship, it was dead. Rock hard dead. We were having some fun, and then she met another guy and I started to keep my distance, I knew she was looking for a lot more than I was prepared to give. I held her at arms length eventually we drifted apart, she met a guy, she had a child and they are all happy happy. I’m not saying I was responsible for that, but I was involved. Because otherwise she would have been stuck in this other dead, abusive relationship for god knows how long. Because people do that, because people are frightened of being alone. So they won’t leave that relationship until something else is on the table. It gives them the confidence to believe that there is someone else out there.

Is it right or wrong? Well I remember when I was having conversation in a pub when and we were talking about what you would do if you came home and your bird was shagging some other bloke. My mates were saying they would beat him up, do this, do that and it got around to me and I just said ‘I’d just walk away’. All my mates piped up saying ‘but there’s some bloke shagging your girl’. I just said, well it’s over. What’s it going to do? And for him, he didn’t wake up some day and think, ‘I’m going to shag Lee’s Girlfriend’. He’s just met her. Chatted her up, she’s responded. It’s nothing to do with him. It’s all to do with her. What I am going to gain from picking a fight? I should just walk away. I’ve stayed the same since that. When I’ve been the outsider, I haven’t set out to ruin a guys life, it’s already over. If anything its ended it quicker for him than he would have ended it himself. The quicker it’s over, the quicker you move on and maybe find something better.

I don’t feel bad about any of that, because I’ve never set out to hurt anybody. And if someone has shown attraction to me, whether they are in a relationship or not, is irrelevant. We are now attracted to each other and that’s it. Likewise, I wouldn’t cry if it happened to me. If they stray, then the relationship is dead.

You can see Lee Saturday night at the Fym Fyg Bar.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

'Mr Sex': An urgent question for Americans, Jewish males, Masai Tribesmen, etc

OK, this has been bugging me for ages, and I could do with an answer so I can sleep at night; I'm guessing that a sizable proportion of our male readership are circumcised, yes? And we've already discussed that there's a few advantages to that - you don't have nob-cheese issues, and you don't have something that can easily get caught in a zip. Well done. Good for you.

But here's the thing; the one advantage us polo-neck sporters have over your lot is that our danglers come ready-lubricated with our own in-built sleeve, meaning that we can pretty much joff off whenever we like with no need for any paraphernalia (apart from something to catch it in, of course). And from pretty much any American TV show that touches upon male masturbation, I've divulged that hand cream is the lubricant of choice.

So here's what I need to know: how the fuck do you get hold of it? I mean, it's bad enough when you're at the till in Tescos, and your selection of Pot Noodles, microwave meals for one and low-grade pizzas are practically screaming out your singleness, but having a tube of Nivea or whatever on the conveyor belt...fucking hell. From where I'm sitting, you might as well rearrange every tin in your trolley and make them spell out the words 'HEY! I'M GOING TO HAVE A WANK IN A BIT, EVERYONE!'.

So what do you do, my no-skin brethen? Do you tell the girl behind the till that you model jewellery for QVC, or that your mother's laid up again with Psoriasis? Do you close your eyes and wish yourself a thousand miles away? Do you brazen it out like a good'un? Or do you use something else?

Come, chaps: share.

Sam: Ugly Girls, Hot Guys

Over a glass of wine this weekend one of my friends asked me an interesting question – why is it that you see a bunch ugly men with gorgeous women in the public eye, but you pretty much never see gorgeous men with ugly women? And then she made a quick followup – which ugly woman in the public eye would you do?

On the first point I must admit I was a bit stumped. There is the old evolutionary argument – women look for intelligence, resources and status within the tribe, so are happy to go out with a smart, rich important ugly bloke. On the other hand, men go for genetic quality –good skin, and a symetrical face all tend to point to good genes and a healthy immune system. The second thing we speculated about is, well lets face it, there really aren’t every many ugly women in the public eye. The media just pretty much filters them all out. But really, you would think that in the 21st Century things might be a bit different. The two of us men at the table then thought long and hard about unattractive women in the public eye who we wouldn’t mind getting a leg over and our list was pretty poor. We couldn’t get much further than Dawn French (who as pointed out is just fat, and actually quite pretty).

There are times that I have met unattractive women who just had something, they were sexy, they had energy and I definitely would have (and on occasions did) sleep with them. What about you, got any crushes on ugly girls? Or do we all really just fancy Lucy Pinder?

Sunday, 11 January 2009

'Mr Sex': I (co-)wrote the book on oral sex

Now, you know this wouldn't be a proper sex blog if the authors didn't relentlessly shill whatever books they cranked out, so I hope you'll forgive me if I alert your attention to The Going Down Guide, which I've just heard will be out in America in the summer. It's the first book with my name on it, and was co-written with my fellow Scarlet writer Emily Dubberley. Eeh, me Mam's right proud.

I promise not to say any more about it, apart from;
  1. That bloke on the cover is not me.
  2. I hope he has a shave before he gets his mouth round his bird's bits.
  3. It tells you everything you need to know about how to give someone a proper nosh.
  4. If your current oral technique is like the Elephant Man after dental anaesthetic, you need to read this.
  5. (or you could just ask me in the pub)

Friday, 9 January 2009

'Mr Sex': The Credit Crotch

Well, well, well. If you need any indication as to how far up Arsehole Street the global economy is, it's this news story about Larry Flynt asking the American government for a hand-out for the Grot industry;
"With all this economic misery and people losing all that money, sex is the farthest thing from their mind," Flynt said in a statement. People were "too depressed to be sexually active", which was "very unhealthy as a nation. Americans can do without cars and such, but they cannot do without sex."
Well, I dunno about the former (and I know the latter is a complete bag of wank), but the issue is worth discussing. Here's my take on it. It's a bit rambly, so be warned.

After working in the business for enough years, I've come to the conclusion that the porn industry is the ultimate triumph of free-market capitalism. Think of this way; about 99% of all straight male pornography is made to be wanked over. But when you strip it down to its basic components, how much does a wank cost? Fuck all. All you need is a cock, a hand, and some sort of a brain to get the two working together and provide some sort of stimulus. When it comes down to it, and if we're totally honest with ourselves, the majority of us don't actually need porn to get a bonk-on, unless we're in a sperm bank.

So how come the porn industry manages to generate over thirteen billion dollars a year for producing things that the vast majority of its audience don't actually need, that the vast majority of us would be mortified to have discovered by others, that makes some of us feel a bit guilty about using, and is an incredibly poor substitute for the real thing? Because, well...that's the way it is, and has always been. Rationality goes right out of the window when the opportunity to see a bit of fanny comes our way.

Problem is, as you've probably noticed on the news, a free market means that people pay for things what they think they're worth, and when times are rough (and it's safe to say that times are as rough as North Korean toilet paper at the moment), they're not very keen on being ripped off. And the Grot business have been the reigning champions of piss-taking for years, because there general uptightness about porn means that the possibilities for scamming are endless.

(There's a great story about one of the top smut pedlars in the UK getting his start by running adverts in magazines selling 20 pictures of women and animals for a tenner, in the days when a tenner was a fuckload of cash. Punters who forked out would then recieve a packages containing ten pictures of women in bikinis, and ten pictures of kittens in wine glasses. Unsurprisingly, no-one wrote letters to the Trading Standards Commission complaining that they hadn't recieved the bestiality photos they ordered.)

The way I see it, you can draw a lot of comparisons between the porn industry and the record business. Both of them play on an outlaw image whilst being run by stuffy old men, both have taken the piss for years (remember when CDs - which are far cheaper to produce than vinyl - were going for £14 each?), and both of them have been bitten in the arse by the internet - sure, the porn industry managed to fend off illegal downloading for a few years longer, but that was only because it took longer for the spods to work out how to throw up video. Just like a teenager can download the entire back catalogue of the Beatles for nothing in the time it would take to play The White Album (skipping Revolution #9, of course), your average punter can download more grot in a day than they would ever purchase in a lifetime.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is simple economics, even for a fiscal div such as I. Yes, Mr Flynt has an extremely valid point, because at the end of the day it's just as much of a business as anything else and it does require an extreme amount of corporate nous to pull it off (seriously, the amount of times I've had people come up to me in the pub, convinced that they can make a fortune from a few Poloroids of their missus with her jubblies out on holiday).

But at the end of the day, if you make a fortune from ripping people off, you can't be surprised when they rip you off the first chance they get. And if you create a multi-billion industry through capitalising on and virtually celebrating an aura of illictness, you can't be that shocked when your audience starts getting at your product through illicit means. I'm pretty sure that even a massive financial crisis won't stop men wanting to glop away like a bastard - they just won't want to pay for it, that's all.

Thursday, 8 January 2009

Danonymous Dan: The Little Things

Not feeling so hot right now. This morning saw me driving my girlfriend to Heathrow airport so she could fly off home. It is so shit. I came home afterwards, did some work but my heart wasn’t really in it. I found it hard to concentrate and had a listless sense that I’d rather do something else but didn’t know what or have the will to actually think of anything. Yes, I moped. In fact I’m still doing it.

She flew over here to spend Christmas with me and also for my Birthday/New Years’ – which was cracking by the way thanks for asking. It was an important trip for us as things haven’t been as good as they could have been and this trip was a sort of concentrated healing/reflection/rejuvenation/ having fun period. The worst thing about a long distance relationship is not the lack of sex. While that is irritating, it’s relatively easy to bare. Really the saddest part of a long distance relationship are, to quote a band that can’t play their instruments, ‘all the small things.’ Things that I am sure are easily taken for granted in a regular relationship, but which are so important.

I can’t stay in on the couch with her, I can’t go out for a meal with her, we can’t argue properly, we can’t make up properly either. Kissing, flirting, pinching, stroking, rubbing, or simply being silent in each other’s company are all beyond us. The tiny social interactions that you do every day, which cement your relationship in so many unnoticeable ways, aren’t there. I’ve never been as aware of the value of these things as I have been while in my current relationship.

Skype is helpful, but it is a plaster on the stump of a severed arm. I can see her as we chat, and I am very thankful for that, but its rather like listening to a crap mobile phone rendition of a classical score and pretending it sounds as good as an Orchestra.

You will all be pleased to know that my girlfriend has just texted me to let me know her plane landed ok. I feel the trip accomplished a lot for us, forward steps that are very difficult to take when you are so far apart and the nature of your time together is patchy and sporadic. Not only did we have fun, but killed a few demons that were in our way also. So whilst I hate having to miss her again, I am really pleased that I do because it reminds me just how good we are together and just how much I love her.

Sam: The things I don't miss about Australia . . .

The lengths some Australians will go to to avoid boredom while driving . . . or make a break-in more entertaining. Thanks to Mr Sex for digging these gems up . . .

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

Something for the ladies # 26

Ladies: If there's ever been anything about men you've wanted to know but were afraid to ask, or wanted a male viewpoint on a certain relationship niggle you're going through, drop an email to us at todger dot talk @ googlemail dot com. We shall pick one out and answer it to the best of our capabilities.

This week's question...

Imo G writes: So I met this guy through a dating site, it was all going really well, we start doing ‘the business’, he constantly says how great I am when we see each other a lot and are always in touch. And then...he doesn't want a relationship, despite me being 'one of the best people he's ever met', and not being able to 'imagine life without you in it'. Then he chucks in the hand-grenade - 'I just don't feel any chemistry; but I really feel an amazing mental connection with you. Lets be friends'. Now, I feel really led-on by this man who is waaay over 21, and therefore old enough to know better, so what I'd appreciate an opinion on is why do some blokes feel they can give you the old flim-flam - and I do believe this guy is sincere in what he says - behave the way they do, and seem surprised when you fall for them.

I think the bloke I met is a self-loathing commitment-phobe, if it helps.

Mr Sex’ says: This chap sounds just like me about ten years ago, actually - I was a twat then, an’all.

Your situation pretty much nails the dilemma most men face when they use dating sites for its proper purpose, as opposed to a lucky bag of casual sex - they feel like it comes too easy, things happen way too fast, and they’ve not worked as hard for it as they normally do. It’s like a fast-track courtship – one minute you’re tentatively exchanging e-mails, and before you know it, you’re in someone’s bed, and she’s talking you up as her new bloke. If you’re not emotionally prepared for that (i.e., if you’re male), that’s scary as fuck – particularly when you’ve just come out of a relationship.

The other thing you need to consider is that when it comes to dating sites, men feel far more embarrassed about them than women. Your lot tend to see them for what they are – a fantastic opportunity to meet new people. A frightening amount of us lot, on the other hand, see it as something you do when you can’t get a girlfriend like normal people can, and we inwardly cringe when people ask us in the pub how we met. Not only that, but we’re never more aware of how many available women there are in the area until we’ve been on a dating site, and we’re always wondering if there’s someone more suitable out there. We’re rubbish like that.

But anyway, onto this bloke. Sounds to me like your suspicions are entirely on the money – he’s been telling you things that he thinks you want to hear, has got in way over his head, and is back-peddling like a bastard (whilst conveniently leaving the door open for the odd shag). Nob him off and find someone better, as there’s loads of us – er, them - knocking about.

Sam says: I’d go for a slightly different take. The problem here is that this guy wants all the benefits of a relationship without any of the problems. He starts going at a full-on pace, saying all the right things, gets a shag, gets the lovely intensity, and then bails as soon as there is any possibility of commitment. He is the hot/cold type – he’s hot hot hot and all over you, and then suddenly, with no warning, it’s all over.

The trouble is that these guys have learnt that if they turn it on they get the action and the attention they want, and then bail when the going starts looking serious. You may as well ask; why do men have affairs? Simple - they get the security of a wife and the excitement of a mistress – which makes a weird kind of sense, since generally it’s hard to get excitement from your wife or security from a casual shag. Having an affair is shit, but this way they get to have their cake and eat it too. This guy gets the constant excitement and high of fresh new relationships, without any of that hard work stuff of actually committing. And importantly, internet dating gives him an almost endless supply of women he can do the same thing to, over and over again.

Rather than wondering about why he thinks he can flim-flam you around, you need to be alert to the danger signals that these guys give out. Basically if a guy seems too good to be true, then - like a dodgy sub-prime mortage - they are. Hopefully next time you’ll be able to spot the warning signs before they suck you in.

Readers of TT – comment!

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

Sam: Culture of Two

I was talking to one of my clients the other day about an embarrassing moment when he was out with friends and let slip one of those silly things that you normally only say when your partner is around. His friends were aghast and taunted him mercilessly for the next hour or so. This led us to having a conversation about some of those words that only seem to get created when you are in a relationship, that make sense to the both of you, but are hideously embarrassing if discovered by the outside world. Some snuggle related examples that came up were:

  • Snoozle – having a snooze and a snuggle
  • Ruggle – having a read and snuggle
  • Tuggle – watching TV while having a snuggle

And then of course there is the topic of the pet names people give each others parts. Clive James once mentioned in one of his books how in a relationship you develop a society of two – with it’s own special language that only the two of you share. A wonderful thing to be shared with you, but rather embarrassing when it slip out into the big bad world.