He thought she knew

I looked over my last couple of blogs and realized I have been spending a lot of time commenting on social issues. Which is good, I think its important stuff. But I think its time to go back to funny stories. And this one just so happens to have a lesson to be learned at the end of it.

I have told this story to a number of my friends, guys and gals, mostly because it’s funny but also because of the message it conveys. Please do not assume after reading this that you should fear me, but instead just believe me when I say something.

This was several years ago; I was 17 and rather new to sex but I was making my way through. I had a boyfriend, and prior to these events, he had never had an orgasm from my mouth; it was always interrupted by the humping. But my vagina was on vacation, so I offered a lengthy blow jay, if you will. He obliged, as one would imagine.

I gave him some rules, since this was going to be a bit longer than any other job I'd been on. 1) Don’t ram my head down on your penis. I have gag reflexes and I will vomit on you 2) If you hear someone coming, let me know, or I will leave teeth marks (to be caught would have shredded my innocence so I thought that I had to be assertive) 3) Let me know when you’re going to ejaculate, because I do not want your swimmers in my mouth and if you do, I will spit them back at you. Now, readers, everybody put your vote in: guess which rule he broke.

I was going up and down and all around on his wang, giving it a good waxing. I looked up periodically because I knew if something was about to happen I’d be able to read it on his face. Glance; nothing; suck suck suck. Glance; nothing; he seemed to be doing ok, nothing big yet, the finale wasn’t there.

WRONG! After that last glance my mouth was suddenly full of half-babies. My head shot up and I glared at him. He shrugged and said “I thought you knew”. My glare turned into the crazy eye and a gathered the semen in my mouth and shot it full force at his face; it nearly landed in his eye.

Like I said, don’t judge me too harshly. I was young and sassy and thought I knew everything. But he never pulled anything like that again, so I’m proud I stuck to my convictions. The lesson to be learned? Don’t trust a girl with a mouth full of semen.

— Nikki Todorow

Schools are there to teach...the birds and the bees

When I was in elementary school I learned about girl parts and boy parts. When I was in 9^th grade, I took biology and learned about reproduction on a scientific level. When I was in tenth grade, a man from a church came in and taught us the virtues of abstinence.

I’m not in grade school anymore, but there are still a lot of kids who are and someday some of them might be mine. Abstinence only versus sexual education, which curriculum should students learn? Should this subject even be approached?

The first thing I consider is what I learned from my parents. My mom and I were putting up wallpaper when I was 13; my mom dipped a brush into the wallpaper glue and said “This looks like jizzum. Do you know what jizzum is?” Beyond that, I learned the anatomy and basic reproduction from school, and anything else I know about sex from magazines, movies, and my friends. So what does this tell us? That parents are not interested in explaining these things to their kids. And who can blame them? It’s awkward, adults don’t know what to say, they probably don’t have a bounty of information anyway. So, my vote is to leave it up to trained professionals. Schools are there to teach, let them take care of this.

Point-counterpoint: those who advocate abstinence argue that teens having sex has lead to an increase in teen pregnancies and STI’s. We need to encourage kids to not have sex until they are married and the incidences of these will lower significantly. The other side says kids are having sex even if we tell them not to, so we should encourage them to make responsible, informed choices and have all the information necessary to do so. The also say that this list of options should include abstinence as a choice.

My thoughts: This is a quote from the abstinence side, “Schools teach 'no smoking' and 'no drinking.' They don't say 'if you smoke, use a filter' or 'if you drink and drive, wear your safety belt.' Why should sex be treated differently?" Um because the last time I checked, putting a condom-covered penis in my vagina didn’t destroy my lungs or crash my car (although at one point it did almost kill my vagina). That’s not to say that there aren’t risks to having sex, married or not. But kids need to be aware. To hold back information from kids that could save their lives is irresponsible.

But really, I think the idea here is that parents should have three options to choose from: 1) abstinence only, provided by the school 2) sexual education including all forms of birth control provided by the school, or 3) whatever they want to tell their kids about birds and gardens or whatever goofy ass story they can cook up.

— Nikki Todorow

Turn your lady hole into a Slip'n'Slide

So far in my blogging history, I have stuck to some pretty basic subjects. Given, this is a sex blog, so these little thoughts can be found taboo; but I think today I may have found a topic to blow my other writings out of the sexy water.

I’m writing this for women and their men who are wildly confused, and are too embarrassed to ask (because I’ve already answered these questions for several different people). The female orgasm is a much coveted goal, and discussed at great length, considering it’s a holy grail for some. But there is an ignored side to such bliss: female ejaculation. Some don’t know that it exists; others wish they didn’t know. Some men know all about it because every night they sit down with their porn collection, their tissues and lotion and watch their chosen “squirter” of the night (crass, I know).

If you know it exists, you probably don’t know much more about it. Learning some basic information might help. Not surprisingly, researchers are still somewhat mystified by female ejaculation. But they do know some things for sure.

For starters, not all women have the ability to excrete fluid. For those who do, it’s usually because your lover has found your G-spot and happens to be good friends with it. There are some rare women who will ejaculate from clitoral stimulation.

Some misinformed people will try to tell you that a woman simply loses control of her bladder and has effectively peed all over her lover. If you meet one of these people, feel sorry for them, for they know not the beauty of a woman. No, but seriously, its not pee.

It is a clear, harmless, alkaline fluid that doctors think originate from the Skene’s gland. This gland is the equivalent to the prostate, which explains why it might create ejaculate. The Skene’s glands are so small that, in some women, they are not visible; which might explain why some women don’t ejaculate.

There is some conflicting research concerning where the fluid actually comes from; the urethra or the vagina (yes, there is a difference and if you didn’t know that much, you may want to back up and learn you’re your female geography). Today’s school of thought leans toward the urethra. In the end, it really doesn’t matter because if that fluid wants out, it’s coming out, from wherever it pleases.

The key part of this issue is to remember that women are usually slightly embarrassed about discussing their gushing vag. It’s always important to have good communication with the person who’s turning your lady hole into a Slip’n’Slide, so whether you’re the squirter or and the receiver, be respectful, be open, and don’t be ashamed. It’s natural and normal, and there are some folks who would give anything to see this.

I’ve only told you the basics. The internet has much more to offer and I encourage you to do some research. Here’s a tip, though: unless you are looking for porn, don’t Google “female squirters”; try “female ejaculation”.

— Nikki Todorow

I spot a conflict

So I was reading news headlines, and I spot a conflict! Abortion has been one of the most hotly debated topics for decades. The government has been chasing women around, trying to tell them what to do with their bodies, while ignoring the consequences of letting a crack whore have a baby (can you see how I feel about abortion?)

Imagine my surprise when I read about the government requiring young girls to have this new HPV vaccine, Gardasil. It prevents four types of HPV, which is an STD, which can cause cervical cancer and genital warts. This vaccine has the potential to prevent 70% of all cervical cancer cases. States across the country are picking up this issue and tossing in around, some choosing to make the vaccine mandatory for young girls, and some still hashing it out.

I shall now clarify my stance: if it’s possible, girls, women, females who are eligible should have this vaccine; there is no reason not to. This is the first vaccine that PREVENTS CANCER. I see no reason not to give it to young girls.

The opposing side claims that you can teach your daughter to not have sex and it won’t be an issue. However, men are rarely, if ever, tested for HPV. So sure, your nine-year old may keep her panties on till she’s 23 and married. But what happens when her not-so-virtuous husband pumps her full of cancer STD? You can see the flaw there.

Just because your daughter gets a chicken pox vaccine doesn’t mean you take her home and teach her all about it. My 12 year old brother got that vaccine at age 6 and has no idea what chicken pox are.

Clearly, I am at conflict as well: I say no one can tell a woman what to do with her body, when it comes to abortion. But I see no reason to allow women to avoid this vaccine; making it required would save lives. These ideals don’t coincide. I’m willing to see this and make a decision: I will stand by the right for every woman to have an abortion, but will not endorse this vaccine as mandatory. I will get this vaccine, and so will any of my future daughters. I will talk about the benefits of this vaccine to anyone who will listen, and encourage women to get it. But I will never take a stance against freedom of your boobies, butt, and coocher.

***Side note: I do not prescribe to any political party, so don’t assume this is the ranting of a crazy liberal. Also, if they find that this vaccine causes your offspring to have crab hands or the like, disregards this piece in its entirety.

— Nikki Todorow

How to avoid awkward dorm sex moments

College is a very big transition and, for some, marks the start of living away from authority (cause we all know RAs don’t count).

This is quite exciting. The freedom is astounding; you can eat whenever and whatever you can afford. It’s easier to lie to your parents, since it’s over the phone. And you can bring that special someone home for a night of hot, sweaty lovin’, provided it’s safe.

But for those of you living in a dorm (unless you are one of those “single” roomers) you know that it’s not quite that simple. I totally advocate living with a roommate in a dorm, especially if this is your first year. However, having someone in a bed 10 feet from you and your midnight acrobatics may not be the easiest task. So, based on my experience and some stories I have heard, here are some thoughts about sex in a dorm room.

1) Know what time your roommate will be home. Freshman year, my roommate’s boyfriend came to stay with us for a few days. I left around 9:30am, with a little note on roomie’s computer: Heya kids! Went to class, back at 11. They were snoring when I left. At 11:04 I unlocked the door. I had headphones and sunglasses on, so I didn’t quite understand until I set my bag on my bed and looked over; as soon as I did, I hauled ass out. The sticky note, we discovered later, had fallen to the ground.

2) If your roommate is a stripper, be prepared. One roommate was a virginal exchange student who was trying hard to acclimate. Her roommate was a stripper (why she was living in a dorm, the world may never know). They didn’t usually have a problem because the stripper wasn’t usually home. But a power outage brought her and her boyfriend from his place to hers for some afternoon freaky-time. I found the sweet virgin slumped outside her room, and when I inquired about the vacant look, she simply said “I didn’t know … that she could put her legs back that far… I mean, even for a stripper."

3) Make sure your roommate is really asleep. Freshman year again, only this time it was me. Roomie and I went to a party; she had quite a few. On the way back, a special friend of mine called and asked if he could come over. I told him that roommie was a good 5 minutes from drooling in a Coors coma, so start walking. I got her into bed, and scurried outside to find my date. By the time we returned to the room, she was nowhere to be found; I figured she was being polite and had made herself scarce. Five minutes later, however, my very drunk roommate, and five other girls from our wing, busted down the door to see our new TV. She was playing host, wearing my heels, her robe, and someone’s “I eat worms” trucker hat.

These are just a few from my memory bag. Anytime you mix sex with community living, awkward moments are sure to follow. Try to learn from these moments, and perhaps share them for the safety of others.
— Nikki Todorow

Keeping the panties on a little longer …

It seems that our country has reached a point where sex sits openly on the kitchen table and everyone can have a crack at it. So not only are grandpa and menopausal Auntie June gettin’ busy (not with each other, obviously), so is your fourteen year old cousin, and his thirteen year old girlfriend (probably together).

This may seem liberating, since we are becoming a sexually open culture. But think of it this way: people are changing their views and opinions of sex, which in turn is leading to kids having a warped view of sex from the start.

Just the other day, my mom said (concerning sex before marriage), “It’s not a moral or religious issue for me, but having sex at the beginning of a relationship creates false intimacy, and false bonding. People fall in love and they know nothing about the other person, they haven’t really connected” except with their genitals, of course (as you can see by the quotes, my mom didn’t say that last part, but it needed to be said).

Take, for instance, last night’s “exciting conclusion” of VH1’s “Rock of Love” (I know I hated Mystery’s show, but who can resist Bret Michael’s horse hair extensions and his boozy ladies?) He was down to the stripper and the rocker chick. He and the rocker chick struggled because she wouldn’t “let her guard down”. It took me until half-way through the episode to realize this meant that they hadn’t slept together (yet).

So at the end of their last date, they went to bed together because she was apparently ready. And I’ll be god damned (SPOILER ALERT), he picked the rocker chick! The stripper was crazy and fun and looked like a female version of his plastic self, why wouldn’t he pick her?

Oh. Because she didn’t make him wait. She didn’t make him chase her. She didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

So, in a world where we’re ready to thrown down at first glance, maybe its time to back up a bit. Maybe this is why the divorce rate is so high. Maybe this is why girls at 12 and 13 are having babies. Sure, maybe some great things blossom out of one night stands. But it’s time to try something new, its time to pull back a little and savor some flavor.

— Nikki Todorow

Spermacide? More like Vagacide…

Over the past five months, I have been through quite the bodily ordeal. I had toyed with the idea of talking about it here, but I never saw a good reason to, until now. After all this, I have found a solution and I think everyone needs to hear this so they don’t run into the same problem. And as much as this is about vaginas, this is also for men who like vaginas. Because when a vagina is in pain, everyone suffers.

In the past five months I have had four urinary tract infections. If you have never had a urinary tract infection, try to keep it that way. It starts with having to pee more than often; next comes the gasp-inducing pain accompanied by fiery pee. Then it reaches a point where all you think about it peeing. It burns all the time, when you’re peeing, when you’re watching TV, when you’re driving. All you think about is finding a bathroom NOW. It is urinary hell.

On top of that, all of this trouble also gave me a yeast infection and sex that was almost as painful as the UTIs themselves. I took pills, peed in cups, and had my urine turn orange from medication. Needless to say, I was cranky, medicated, horny, and in a lot of pain. And I still had no answers.

Until today. I was in FAS 332/SOC 394, also known as Human Sexuality, also known as something all college kids should take because movies and frat parties teach us nothing.

Dr. Christopher was discussing spermacides, most of which contain nonoxynol-9 as their active ingredient. Research has shown that not only does nonoxynol-9 not aid in preventing pregnancy, it has shown to increase the chances of contracting HIV and other STIs. What caught my attention was when he explained that this ingredient causes microscopic vaginal tears that make all kinds of infections more likely.

DING! A light bulb went off in my head. That sentence seemed to describe my pain, and had potential for explaining my bacterial battle. After months of medicines and incompetent doctors and pain, I felt like I might have a glimmer of hope. As soon as class was over, I called my boyfriend and demanded to know the main ingredient in our spermicidal-lubricated condoms. Want to take a guess? Yeah that’s right.

I ran home and did some more research and found that frequent UTIs have been connected with nonoxyl-9, that it creates a breeding ground for the bacteria that causes the infection.

This is research that is relatively new, so it’s not surprising that none of my resources (women, doctors, physician’s assistants, the internet) picked up on this. But I am thoroughly enthused that I have found an answer. Nearly all spermacides contain nonoxyl-9, so even though it’s a good preventative measure, your vagina will thank you more so if you skip the sperm genocide.

— Nikki Todorow

The new impact of nudie shots in the Internet age

Sometimes, when girls and boys fall in love, they do stupid things while in the nude. Like, for instance, he might tell her he loves her after three weeks. Or perhaps she’ll let him take nakey pictures of her “just for when you’re not around.” It’s not uncommon; sample 100 girls across ASU, and you might be surprised to find out how many girls have given some guy a Kodak moment that needs to be laminated for easy cleaning.

Now, some people might say that there is no good to come from this — that guys only want to show their friends. But if you honestly assess your photographer, it’s not hard to differentiate between a guy who will keep your secret and a guy who can’t wait to post your nudies.

That being said, the recent news about 18-year-old Vanessa Hudgens isn’t entirely surprising. In fact, considering that the average age of first intercourse is getting younger and younger, she was fortunate that these photos didn’t surface before she turned 18; then she’d have a whole other boatload of naked trouble.

She’s a pretty young lady and, if the rumors are true, she’s dating her bubble gum co-star Zac Efron. They are probably in love, which makes a dramatic difference in one’s decision making abilities. Now, that’s not to say that one isn’t responsible for her choices just because she’s got goo-goo eyes. But those two are young and on an incredible high from being famous and thrust into the spotlight. And they never expected to have their privacy violated, and their secrets splashed across America.

To make matters worse, she’s famous for being Disney’s sweetheart — an entity built on candy and platonic love, corny jokes and virginity. There’s much debate about her future on the Disney network: Should her actions get her canned? Should a young woman with a sex life that accidentally escaped be punished for being human?

Clearly, I think not. These are photos of just her; she wasn’t with anyone else; and she has acknowledged this and apologized. Hudgens will have this over her shoulder for the rest of her career. But the way she handled it with grace and humility deserves some credit for being mature.

— Nikki Todorow

"The Pick-up Artist" in velour and a cowboy hat? Puh-lease.

I recently surfed over to VH1 to enjoy some useless TV, when a new show popped up on my radar. Usually, I'm excited when VH1 comes up with a new gem to humiliate folks while letting them believe that they’re boosting their confidence. But this is an exception.

“The Pick-up Artist” takes hopeless men and teaches them how to pick up women. This is fine, it’s been done before; there will forever be men who are “putting the pussy on a pedestal," to quote a very relevant film, and end up getting none.

The problem here is the host/coach known simply as “Mystery." The contestants follow his advice, participating in the challenges, making asses of themselves. The fates of their unused peni lie in this man’s hands.

And this man is wearing a crushed velour suit from K-Mart with a Pac-Sun cowboy hat and hemp necklace, complete with black-rimmed eyes. Oh, and that’s just the evening wear. For daytime, it’s to the moon! He’s got a black beanie, goggles and a distressed leather trench coat with some decorative headphones. He sports a soul patch with a lip piercing, and some monster gauges.

Umm, I'm sorry, but what? This man, this gawky mess of genres and clichés, is giving advice on how to pick up women? Oh and check out his boy-band sidekicks: the Swedish man who is clearly gay and the goofy Indian guy from “Van Wilder.” No, I don’t think so.

If lonely men in the world want to get laid, they need to ignore this man and pretend like he doesn’t exist. He does nothing good for mankind or its aching members. He either made a deal with the devil or has a cousin at VH1.

Guys, I swear to you, it really isn’t that hard. Find a realistic target, show interest, be polite and hold back. Stop chasing those unattainable girls who will only break your heart. Don’t shower her with gifts and phone calls and plans for the future. Throw out some bait, and wait for her to come to you. There is a girl out there waiting for a guy like you to get into her panties, but if you’re wearing a Speedo and rolling around with Lance Bass, you’re not going to get any.

You don’t need books and TV and some hack who clearly stalks Tommy Lee. Just some confidence will do.

(If this isn’t enough to convince you, check out “Seduction community” on Wikipedia. That might actually help.)

— Nikki Todorow

Avoiding getting 'fuzzies' for 'friendies'

One of the greatest mysteries in life is the ever-coveted “friends with benefits” relationship (also known as “friendies”). This special type of friend can be useful because life gets too busy for a serious relationship, but we still have animalistic urges to hump and be humped.

Plenty of people have had one of these, but they rarely end well. As a result, feelings are hurt (she’s sad he doesn’t love her), tears are shed (he’s sad he doesn’t get free poon anymore), and both partners swear off these relationships forever. The last resort is a string of one-night stands. But since no one wants the clap, ground rules are needed for these situations.

The key to friendies is that no one gets too emotionally invested. This is targeted mostly at the ladies, as it’s easy for us to get too close and give away our hearts to the unreceptive (read: those heartless male bastards). This means girls must adhere to a few rules:

• Choose guys who you are incredibly attractive to you, but have some major flaw: they have the mental capacity of a blender, perhaps they’re homeless, maybe they’ve slept with your best friend. Whatever it is, keep this in mind throughout the entire process.
• Try to ensure that you’ll only be able to see him one or two times each week. Do not create a routine; this is only intended to be the sexual half of a relationship.
• Some basics: no sleepovers, don’t leave anything behind, you cannot wear his clothes, cuddling is not mandatory.
• If you hear/see that he’s talking with/screwing other girls, take no notice because it’s none of your business. This is a hard one for the feminine half to grasp, but it’s true. He’s not yours, and if it bothers you, then you should stop the sheet sweating. (It really is best to end it here because you’re supposed to be doing each other a favor, but if he’s doing many people a favor, he’s not right for the job.)
• He is your friend, so he is allowed to take you to dinner once in awhile, and you can hang out in social groups together, even when an exchange of bodily fluids isn’t on the menu.
• If you aren’t having a religious experience every time he gets in your knickers, lose him. When he’s no good in bed, and you stay, you’re defeating the purpose, having sympathy and risking the chance you may end up with warm fuzzies for him.

It’s important to remember that all of this is moot if you don’t have the heart for these antics. You must be sexually experienced, and you will most likely have a more positive outcome if you’ve had your heart broken. And remember: this is a temporary solution. Don’t fall in love with the duct tape of men.

—Nikki Todorow

First-time fiasco: Losing my virginity wasn't like a fairytale; it was much funnier

A friend once said to me “My first time [having sex] was perfect. It was amazing!”

After I wiped the happy off my face, I thought back to my first time. I wouldn’t describe it quite the same way my friend did.

I was 16, and I had been with my boyfriend, we’ll call him Tom, for three months. His mother was going out of town, and I was to be a houseguest. By 10 o’clock, we had nuded up, and I laid down on his futon, which was stuck in couch position.

Tom held himself up over me by planting his palms just above my shoulders on the mattress. After some preliminary “Does that hurt?” we began serious advancements. He was just easing in when his left hand slipped across the gauzy futon mattress cover. His weight fell into me, and I was full up of Tom’s Johnson. Losing your virginity is painful, even at a slow, steady pace. But to go from “Just the tip, OK?” to our hip bones mashed together is blindingly painful. He immediately replaced his hand, but neglected to remove himself from inside me.

Before I could make a conscious decision, my body responded. My leg bent up to my body and swung under his propped up torso, then shot out straight into his chest like a cannonball. He flew backwards like a cartoon, complete with wall collision.

Tom and I stayed together awhile longer and laughed every time we thought of it. And really, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. First times are awkward and painful; it gives the sexually active a realistic view of sex. All I can remember was laughing once we were done. So my first time was definitely not a fairytale, which I'm very happy to report.

— Nikki Todorow