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Sex positive? Yes, please.

2 Dec

I’ve had my ups and downs with my sexuality over the years. I identify as gay, but questioning moments did surface. There were a few years of celibacy after a nasty breakup during which time I thought I could possibly be straight. Then another guy came along and quelled all second guessing. I’m about to be 31, and I find myself pondering the true essence of my sexuality. How do this beast and I co-exist in the same space at the same time? I don’t limit my sexual attraction to just the testosterone laden, masculinity of the male form; women are just as beautiful.

Enter Sex Positive Movement

I’m a regular listener to Dan Savage on the Savage Love Podcast, and he’s constantly throwing the term Sex Positive around. The concept was always 100% irrelevant to me. Until now. I realize that I’ve been holding myself in a box by means of societal norms and expectations. Mainstream societal labels and definitions. This is not to say that I’m denouncing the fact of identifying as a gay man. Instead, I think it’s time I tweak that label and fill it out a bit.  Sex positive, gay man has a nice ring to it, eh? I’m all about diversity, differences, and individuality. I see it fitting to incorporate the notion of sex positive into my sex life since it agrees with these variables, as well.

Now to the catalyst for this post and ponderings. I recently had a pseudo-sexual encounter with a woman. That’s right. A woman. Weird, huh? Maybe for you. For me it felt as natural as beating my meat to get my day started. In all honesty, it was quite a liberating experience. Let me back up for a moment. When I say ‘pseudo-sexual encounter’, I mean that there was more than just kissing involved. No penetration or orgasm. We were just sexual. God and Goddess-like. I’ve always talked to friends about how I find women attractive–especially boobs–but nothing has ever really happened other than the occasional kiss here or there. Those kisses were mostly just for fun though. You know, shock value. This recent foray was more though. It opened doors to possibilities I’d only contemplated turning the knob on before.

The Sex Positive Movement is more than just polyamory and identifying as gay, straight, bi, queer, etc. It’s an embracing of what makes you happy within the confines of a safe and secure environment. It’s about respect. At this point in my life, I am still quite monogamous by nature. However, I understand that open dialogue and honesty (with yourself and others) will help us reap benefits 10 times over. What I’m trying to say is date and be merry. Explore the simple things in life that make you happy, wrap it up and stay safe, and become the individual, sexually and non-sexually, you were meant to be.


The Sophistication of Boning in Your 30s.

8 Nov

Image courtesy of

Come on. You and I both know there is none. Just because a glass…well, bottle or two of wine is involved before the panting, sweating, and climaxing, that does not make sophistication. I was over on The Denver Omelette this morning reading about the “come over and watch a movie” move that we all have experienced in one way or another, and Betty Steele mentioned “that at 13 [the] make out sesh typically doesn’t happen until at least the 3rd movie of the night and some sweaty-palm hand-holding.  While at 31 it has sped up to 2 glasses of wine and the end of opening credits.”

This got me to thinking. So I asked myself, “Var, does the wine make the banging process more sophisticated?” Hell naww. We’ll just find any excuse to be alcoholics. Honestly, we should probably skip the wine anyway. It’s only going to decrease functionality of certain phallic paraphernalia. Which I’ve gotta say, I like for mine to be at 100% when I’m trying to knock someone’s back out.

Sidebar: In the middle of writing this, I jumped back over to TDO and noticed that Sport commented on their blog post.  Sport: Is it weird that I bring a porno with me when invited to “come over and watch a movie”? <–Thanks, Sport. Point proven.

I guess all I’m trying to say is let’s be the animals we are and fuck like rabbits. I don’t want to seem fancy before we do the deed. I just want to do the deed. Yadda mean?

Btw, I think I need to get booty. This is the second time I’ve talked about sex in 2 posts.

Cattle call!

Guest Post: Standards? What Standard?

27 Oct

I think we all remember the day that we decided we had a list of wants and definitely-do-not-wants in a potential mate.  I juxtapose the partner I wanted and the partner I may never have all the time; hence, me living in Singledom Valley. Standards drive me fucking crazy, but I know without them I’d still be in that nomadic sexcursion I lived during my twenties. Today, TheBoo talks about her list and its evolution. All I have to add is, “Why would you do this to me now, TheBoo? I have enough to think about, and I could really do without contemplating these damn lists!”

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What are standards?”  I don’t really remember what her actual answer was, but I somehow got the impression that standards are what you hold out for, no matter what else may come along…no matter how good it looks or how much it likes you.  However, as I mature and develop a better sense of self and reality, I have begun to understand that my youthful, incomplete understanding of standards was not exactly accurate.

When I was in high school, my standards developed into a List.  You know, that sheet of paper with bullet points and qualities you think you’d like to find in your spouse or life partner.

That first List had a lot of really deep and revealing attributes on it, like:

Awww yeah! Sweet hatchback. Image courtesy of

  • Dark hair
  • 6’1”
  • Clean-shaven
  • Plays piano
  • Older than me
  • Saving himself for marriage
  • Drives a hatchback

After a few years passed and I matured a little more, my list looked more like:

  • College graduate
  • Has dark hair
  • Dresses Emo
  • Hugs trees
  • Reads books prolifically
  • Isn’t a complete n00b at sex
  • Drives a black Camaro

Now that I’m in my 30’s, my understanding of what will really make me happy has matured a bit.  I don’t dress Emo anymore, my knowledge of men, relationships, and cars has expanded.  Additionally, I have quit saving myself for marriage, my last boyfriend didn’t have dark hair, and my dreams of publishing a book before I was 30 have gone unfulfilled.  I am even beginning to question the point of having a list of things I want in a mate.  Rather than a list of things I want, which has gotten less and less specific over time, now I just have a list of deal breakers:

  • Drug addiction
  • STDs
  • Kids
  • No job
  • No car
  • No hair

I may even be selling myself a little short by excluding guys with one or more of those attributes.  After all, there are probably lots of great guys out there with no car.  Or hair.  And is a job really all that important?  I could just go for Sugar Mamma status and support my boyfriend as he goes bald, contracts a bunch of STDs and procreates indiscriminately by whoring himself out in the back seat of my car to pay for his drug addiction…

Okay, maybe there really is something to standards.  Maybe they shouldn’t be as specific as they were when I was in high school, and maybe they should be stricter than they’ve been in the last few months.

My question to the rest of the world: Was holding out for a human List worthwhile?  Did it really make you happy?  Or are you, like the rest of us 30-somethings, just looking for someone who cares?  Maybe that is the be-all and end-all quality in a mate: Someone who gives a shit.

Dirty Thirty: You have sex how many times a week?

21 Oct

I’m not going to lie.  It’s been over a week since my lady bits have been visited by someone other than me.  Don’t think I’ve been neglectful. *shakes head* Oh, no. But my sexy piece of ass was out of town, then sick and we’re moving, so there just hasn’t been time.

And in all truth, ever since sticking the old bun in the oven, I’m not always in the mood anyways. Especially after 7pm. So as much as I’d love to throw on some lingerie and hooker heels- dude, I’m tired.

Real life is so unglamorous sometimes.

I got to thinking. As a pattern in my relationships, things start out hot and heavy with so much pipe laying in one day, that I suspect my man is actually a plumber. Then things tend to normalize: a few times a week. Still rad, dirty, hot and satisfying, but less in frequency.

Is this normal? Some magazines have me believing that the only normal sexual behavior is trying new positions every day, most of which do not look particularly comfortable, and how the hell do you do that without pulling your back?


Scoundrels, we’ve discussed changes in sex drive in our 30s, but I don’t think we’ve ever fessed up to how much we’re getting laid. I’m pretty sure my boyfriend is going to have words with me for disclosing deets about our sex life, but you know, greater good. Okay, so I put it out there, now assure me that it’s normal. Or at least reasonable.

Guest Post: Sick & Wrong? Possibly. Happy? Most Definitely

24 Sep

Today’s guest post comes to us from Jane, a TTTM reader and blogger of Jane’s Infinite Wisdom. To be honest, we don’t know much about Jane other than she has balls of steel. Jane submitted her post to give us a little glimpse into the life less ordinary. Thanks, Jane!

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll never get married. You’re one of those people destined for eccentricity, yelling at kids to get off your lawn!”

I don’t remember what I said to my best friend to illicit that response but I do remember it stung enough to be able to recall it nearly 20 years later.

image courtesy of

I think I tried to get married just to spite her. I spent most of my 20’s locked in a relationship even though it didn’t feel right and I lived my life as though I was already a suburban mundane despite the fact that he and I didn’t live together, or near one another for that matter, most of the time. Once the proposal happened and the wedding planning began in earnest though, I freaked out. I ended the relationship over the silliest possible reason and walked away with a sigh of relief. Had texting been available back then, I likely would have been one of *those* people. Fortunately, my moral standing was somewhat upheld in that I was forced to do it by telephone.

Continue reading

Sex, No sex, and WTF is going on…Let’s talk, Scoundrels.

21 Sep

When they’re not putting out, what are you putting into the relationship?

Does size matter?

24 Aug

My name is theVar, and I have a full-size bed. Get your mind out of the gutter, dirty fuckers! Besides, that’s more economy size. *wink, wink*

The big gun.

No seriously. I really do have a full-size bed. After telling two friends this last night, they looked at me like I’d kicked their puppy. Then they proceeded to tell me how I’m abnormal. What self-respecting, 30-year-old man could sleep in a full-sized bed? And, of course, my retort was, “I could. Now get off my balls and let me sleep.” Continue reading

Cheating Cheaters and Lying Lovers

13 Aug

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That cheater has blue hair!

Cheating is one of the most vile things a person can do in a relationship.

And I admit it. I’ve cheated.

A lot.

Every time the motivation was different. In one instance, it was revenge for my then boyfriend cheating on me. A break up seemed unreasonable and far too dignified, so instead, I cheated back. And then I kept tally and just kept cheating back.

Continue reading

Dirty Thirty: Choking the Chicken

9 Aug

By theVar
Blogger of StraightenMyTie

When I woke up this morning, guess what the first order of business was. Did morning wood come to mind? Ding, ding, ding. If that makes you uncomfortable, then suck it!

The fact of the matter is masturbation is natural, and men do it frequently. Yeah, yeah. You all know this, but did you know there are various techniques to beating the meat. From the cold climax and palm rubber to the ball holder and gentle tap, masturbation can be as dynamic as you want it to be.

People like to say that using the left hands feels like someone else. They are a LIE. I’m right-handed and using my left hand just feels like what it is–retarded. (Rumor has it, there’s a reader that learned how to how to yank it ambidextrously. Now that’s talent. All hail that two-fisting bastard.) So for all of you that like to shine the helmet, I’ve come up with a new technique to end the shelf-life of this left-handed nonsense: the Thumb Knob Wrestler. This is mostly for righties, but it’ll work with your brain-disconnected left hand. I’ve tried it. Urr, what? Anyhoo, first you get which ever hand lubed up, mostly concentrating on the thumb and forefinger. Wrap your fingers around the shaft with the forefinger resting at the base of the glans (head). Take your thumb, as if thumb wrestling another opponent and rub it in an upward motion against the tip, following through the motion, pulling back the thumb once past the tip, and repeating.  Guys, we all know the tip is the most sensitive. You with me. Quick and easy orgasm. The best way to get off on the fly. Especially, when you’re in a hurry and just gotta bust a nut. There ya have it. The Thumb Knob Wrestler.

Whether you call it yanking the crank, rubbing one out, riding the great white knuckler, or my personal favorite, milking the Alabama Black Snake, get ‘er done. And get ‘er done with style. Do any of you have any techniques you think the rest of us could benefit from when romancing the bone?

Dirty Thirty: Diddle

29 Jul

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By Sara Downey
Blogger for meanest look

Had a conversation with some girlfriends the other day. About sex of course. This time it was masturbation. Did you know that 11% of women surveyed by the Kinsey Institute claim they have never masturbated?

I spend 11% of every single day diddling myself.

And I know that I’m not totally alone on this. After I pulled a muscle in my back doing the deed, I asked people if they had ever had similar injuries. One girl said, “sometimes you have to get athletic.” And another said, “I’ve been in some awkward situations with myself.”

Glad to know I’m not the only one with masturbation related back injuries.

Back to that 11%! Whoa, that’s a hard number for me to swallow.

Now I’m curious.

How many of you get down wit ‘cho bad self?

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