Have you played The Numbers Game? That’s when your significant other (SO) asks you how many people you’ve slept with. It is a dangerous game.
But even more dangerous than the game itself is the advice sex expert Tracey Cox offers women on the subject:
Keep your mouth zipped even if nothing else has been: by putting a number on your sexual history you’re removing the emotion and the circumstances.
And don’t kid yourself: if you do blurt out a figure to your boyfriend, you will be judged – and not necessarily by the same rules he judges himself on.
Even if he’s slept with 300, your three will be two too many.
I think it’s dangerous advice for two main reasons: 1. it wanders into slut-shaming territory and 2. it promotes lying to your partner. Let’s take a look at the first point.
Yay for padding! Tonight, Unhelpful Therapist™ Chris Harrison becomes Useless-at-Follow-Up-Questions Journalist™ Chris Harrison. Before we get to the main event, former bachelorette Ashley and her husband (from the show) JP show up, and Ashley is about seven months pregnant. Chris Harrison’s introduction: “When I told you guys to say your ‘I do’s’ it turns out you took it pretty seriously.”
In other news, Ashley and JP moved to Miami. “To be closer to Juan Pablo,” Chris Harrison cracks.
We’re all looking for something. Some of us are looking for a job, a love life, and maybe even just a couple of better parents. Thank goodness there’s online matchmaking sites for all your needs.
What is the big deal about Ryan Gosling? I don’t get it, and I never have.
The Internet (and “real life”) is freaking out because he’s having a baby with actress Eva Mendes. Um, did anyone think they had a chance with Ryan Gosling? Like his having a baby was the ultimate personal shutdown to you, Ryan Gosling fan. Sorry, but him having a baby doesn’t affect you in any way. You didn’t have a chance before, and you won’t have a chance ever. Sorry. He’s not even the guy you probably think he is. He’s just an actor. You don’t even know him. Let him live his life.
Anyway, here’s what I don’t get about Ryan Gosling.
The Council was like, “So humans are irrational narcissists deeply obsessed with their own interests? Cool, cool. We understand now that the adults are just dark and twisted babyhumans, most interesting.” And I was like, “No, you guys got the wrong idea,” and Pinky Stardust was like “Uh, that’s probably because you suck at explaining things, L,” and I was like, “Sorry, Pinky,” and Pinky was all, “Get it together” and I was like “Fine, I will, geeeeeeze.”
I’m getting the sense that Pinky is a no-nonsense chick, and I’m not sure how we’re going to get along because I like at least some nonsense in my close girlfriend relationships, which is exactly what Pinky is going to be someday: my closest girlfriend ever. She’s never going to see it coming, but I’m going to gradually blindside her into lifelong friendship. She’s going to love me so, so much.
Anyways I say to The Council, “Council, the humans are selfish, I cannot deny it, but that is not the only thing that defines them.”
And The Council was like, “Prove it.”
(NOTE: I use the term ‘date’ very, very, VERY loosely.)
Freshman year I went to a bar completely by myself where I flashed my shiny, new fake ID and was allowed entrance. I was wearing boot cut jeans (I know…), a sweatshirt I got at Pacsun in maybe 2010 that I am certain I still own, and a walking boot that I had to wear because I broke my foot from “dancing too much.”
I ordered a drink or eight but didn’t really talk to anyone, and before I knew it, it was bar close. Shit. I called a cab and waited outside the bar to be picked up. That’s when I met “Dan” who will be referred to as “Dan” to protect his identity and also because I don’t actually remember his name.
Dan was a music major who graduated college before I had graduated high school. He stood at around 5’6” (I’m 6’5” so you can already see the cracks in our really, really short-lived relationship) and looked kind of like Diplo, I think. We chatted for around 10 minutes before he invited me back to his humble abode, and of course I agreed because I’m gross.
Over the course of the ten minute walk (or in my case, hobble due to my walking boot) to his apartment I learned that he was unemployed and that he and his dad don’t really talk anymore. What I found inside of his apartment proved to be a lot more interesting.
The other week, I had a rare Saturday night off, followed up with a Sunday morning off. Somehow I forced myself out of bed, away from Netflix, got dressed up in the vintage dress that was collecting dust in my closet and headed downtown to visit my bartender best friend at work.
There’s something empowering about strutting downtown when you know you look good. It felt fun, sassy, confident and sexy. I headed into my friend’s bar, a classy, speakeasy type establishment where the lighting is low and flattering and the music is the perfect soundtrack to your life in that very moment.
The tables were full of couples having date nights as I headed straight to the bar. We started chatting as she poured me a gin drink from heaven and I know that I made the right decision, Orange is the New Black could wait.
A few handsome men, who know my bartender lady friend, came in to say hi. “Hello boys. Thank you, Saturday night, you’re treating me right,” I thought.
Zooey Deschanel is one celeb who isn’t afraid to let her inner “fiery feminist” fly. And I love her for it. It seems like so many female celebrities nowadays are almost afraid of the F word — feminist. Not so for Zooey. In an interview with InStyle, she talked about how not every woman’s dream is to be a mom, saying,
Like every woman is dying to give birth! I don’t think so. Nobody asks guys that. And you go into a supermarket and every tabloid is like, ‘Pregnant and Alone!’ Stuck in the 1950s ideal of how a woman should live her life. This brings out the fiery feminist in me.
Tonight, on The Bachelorette! Condom-less fantasy suite time! In the Dominican Republic!
We watch the b-roll team’s footage of Andi pretending to write in a journal, as she discusses her excitement about each of her remaining suitors. Josh is “so funny” and Andi is her “complete self” with him. Also, we still don’t know what Josh’s day job is; I think it is “expectant Johnny Drama” to his brother’s “hopeful QB Vincent Chase.”
Sometimes we make the situation more complicated than it is, but it’s usually pretty simple: if someone is really, truly interested in hanging out, they’ll make it happen.
It was about a month after I’d met Kyle—he was that one kid who always sat in the front of my biology class asking really obvious questions, but it was kind of endearing. I’d started nonchalantly sitting a row closer to the front every week, attempting to not look awkward as I inched closer to the incredibly handsome back of a head I’d been staring at all semester. A few weeks into class, I finally got the guts to say hi to him, and eventually he asked me out.
The horror story starts at our third date, at a particularly fancy restaurant-that-shall-not-be-named. I felt like a princess as the hostess took us to our table and he sat down across from me in a flattering collared shirt. I was stupidly gawking at him and wouldn’t have heard a word the waiter said if it hadn’t been for that familiar voice.
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