Things I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me - Ben Karlin [40]
We know more about sexual orientation today than we did in 1980. For instance, no one knew way, way back in 1980 that gay men’s brains respond to male sweat, scents, and pheromones the same way straight women’s brains do; nor did we know that gay men’s brains respond negatively to female scents, pheromones, and sweat, the same way straight women’s brains do. Researchers in Sweden added that interesting new item to the ever-growing mountain of evidence that homosexuality is genetic, not chosen.
Okay, let’s get back to the hairy lasagna. . . .
After quickly pulling my fingers away from my nose I began to caress Wendy’s back again. But this time I used all my fingers. I was pretending that I was passionately caressing her when I was, in fact, vigorously wiping her juices off my fingers. I thought this sequence of moves—strip, finger-bang, caress, position nose, bring fingers to nose, smell fingers, wipe fingers while pretending to caress—was pretty slick.
“Did you just wipe your hand on me?”
“No,” I lied. And then we had sex. No sloppy seconds for me this time. Tidy firsts. And I could do it. I didn’t need Alex there, my balls in his hand. I could do this thing; I could have sex with women. I could pass.
We fucked around a dozen or so more times. Summer turned into fall, fall into winter. Wendy soon noticed that, despite her coaching, my sexual repertoire was shrinking, not growing. I ignored her breasts, I kept my fingers out of her vagina, my mouth never ventured south of her collarbones. Then one day Wendy called with two important pieces of news. First, it was over. Second, she had missed her period.
I spent a week flipping out about the injustice of it all. How could I have gotten her pregnant? Didn’t shutting my eyes and pretending that Wendy’s vagina was the ass of this boy I was in love with offer any protection at all? Why didn’t my gay sperm, realizing where they had been deposited, turn tail and start swimming in the opposite direction of her eggs?
I didn’t have to stress for long. The next day Wendy called to tell me she got her period. She also wanted to let me know she was seeing another guy now, someone her own age.
“It was fun,” she said, comforting me. “I like you. You’ll meet another girl.”
God, I hope that never happens, I thought to myself, listening as Wendy let me down easy. It wasn’t fun. I can’t like you or any girl the way I’m supposed to. I thought I could do this, I thought I could fake it. I thought I could pass. But I can’t, I don’t want to, it’s not fair. My heart isn’t in it.
A month later I had sex with a guy for the first time. In his apartment, in the middle of the night, in the middle of my sixteenth year. Jeff was twenty-one, with shaggy brown hair and big blue eyes. I guess he’s just another of the statutory rapists I have known and loved. Jeff smelled great. He tasted great. And no one needed to cup my balls.
Lesson#15
Nine Years Is the Exact Right Amount of Time to Be in a Bad Relationship
by Bob Odenkirk
This is a transcript taken from a recent Bob Odenkirk Rocky RelationShip Seminar.
Hey. How are you doing, couples? Are you all ready to hear about my plan for you to get the most from your rocky relationship? I see one man over there who isn’t nodding. Sir? Oh, you’re a lesbian? Oh, I thought you were a man [really awkward laughs]. You’re here with her? Oh, I thought she was a man, too. I thought you were a gay couple. No, I understand you are gay, just . . . well, okay, let’s keep moving on.
As I’ve promised in my brochures, I speak from experience. Everything I am about to share with you is based on real-life experimentation. My theory has been tested in the lab called “My Past” by a doctor named “Me.”
Is there a time limit for relationships? How long do you “hang in there”? What’s a good “rule of thumb” for exploring every