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As more and more of the Forty Days of Dating (comically nicknamed "40DD") project is revealed, I find myself becoming a little bored by most of the daily entries. They are exactly like being with a friend and analyzing the minutiae of her new relationship - tedious and inconclusive. I have, however, become increasingly fascinated with the comments, particularly the ones raising the When Harry Met Sally question.
Oral sex is ubiquitous in American bedrooms. A 2011 report from the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention found that, among adults ages 25-44, 89 percent of women and 90 percent of men had engaged in oral sex with an opposite-sex partner. It's happening, but often without the frequency and fervor that the partner wants. Why? When it comes to fellatio (oral stimulation of a man's penis), women say that the taste can be a major turn-off. If the taste of fellatio and the resulting climax is an issue, Masque Sexual Flavors are worth a try.
Interested in trying out some new bedroom accoutrements but too busy or embarrassed to make it to the local sex toy shop? Several companies offer subscriptions-based delivery services that send you a box of new toys every month. I tried out three options in varying price points.
Research says we know within three to 30 seconds of meeting someone if we are interested in getting to know them further. Three to 8 minutes - the average time of a speed date - should, theoretically, provide plenty of time to give a thumbs up or thumbs down.
But what happens when participants wear blindfolds?
You may have heard about it by now: Yahoo News, the Daily Mail, and even Buzzfeed are among the outlets positively aflutter with the news that two young, successful, attractive designers from the Big Apple have embarked on an experiment to date each other for 40 days. That's it? Yes. Two hot designers based in New York City are contractually obligated to date each other for 40 days ("The time it takes to break bad habits," say the love addict and commitment phobe on their website), and they're documenting the whole thing with the designer's version of selfies: text-based illustrations and short films of themselves getting covered in glue. Love it or hate it, people are really, really into it.
I've been talking about sex since one afternoon in Fredericksburg, Texas, in the spring of 1991.
I woke up groggy in a one-room cabin from a heat-addled sugar coma on Easter Sunday, and aside from my sweaty brother still sleeping next to me, the room was empty. I was 6. I blinked as I looked around the room, trying to get my bearings. Spring break, my brain reminded me. Concrete floors. No AC. Cows for miles.
I went looking for my mother, and when she wasn't in the bathroom I tried the front door, vaguely surprised that I had to unlock it. On the porch in front of me, a trail of clothes 20 yards long led me to an image I will never forget: my naked mother propped atop the hood of my step-dad's black '87 Jaguar, their pale bodies slamming against one another in a position I have yet to experience in my own sex life - her legs akimbo, hands gripping the windshield wipers, my stepfather's scrawny ass thrusting in between the time it took for him to sort of sideways scissor kick her thighs by hand, all of it with the gusto and rhythm that I at first mistook for partner Jazzercise. I quietly crept back into cabin and woke my 4-year-old brother, Chris.
"Don't tell Mom, but I just saw her naked on Tom's car."
"What were they doing?"
"I don't know. Exercising. Don't tell."
While in Austin last year, some friends and I went out to a club after dinner. I began chatting up a man in his early 30s. A fashion designer, he was in town to see one of his creations worn at a wedding earlier in the day. I then explained that I was in town for a conference of sex educators, counselors and therapists. Upon hearing this, he immediately asked, "Is it normal for me to not have any pre-cum?" For the next 30 minutes I listened to his stories and questions. I got a free drink, and he got a free pseudo-therapy session. (And if you're wondering, yes it's normal. Some men don't produce pre-ejaculate. Nothing to worry about.)
It happens rather frequently. Once people learn that I am a "sexpert" - and that I'm non-judgemental (that's key!) - I become privy to their sexual fears, longings, musings, questions and fantasies. At some point in the conversation, they pause, look at me a bit startled, and say "Wow, I haven't told anyone about that EVER!" or "I cannot believe I'm sharing this with a complete stranger."
People long for open and honest discussions about sex. Asking Google, "Is it OK if I think about my old girlfriend while I have sex with my wife?" is a different experience than asking a woman sitting across the table from you. I love that exchange. Men can be quite vulnerable.
I venture to say that men especially enjoy hearing a woman speak frankly about sex. They don't shock me, and I don't shame them.
There are three common questions men ask me. The first two are elementary, but men must need the reassurance. The third question is a tough one; it's a question of the heart and has no easy answers.