Wow, that was a long gap between Cosmockings. But this shit ain't over 'til it's over.
There's an article on "super-predators," which are of course women who steal other women's men. The man's role in all this or his feelings about it are joyfully unexamined.
One of her favorite scenes to prowl? The workplace, where she can toy with her prey on a daily basis.
Confession: I flirt with a taken man at my work. I'd never fuck him unless I was assured this was cool with everyone, and the flirting is more like joking around than like "take me now you stallion." But toying with prey? No, no, you don't understand, I'm flirting with this guy because I like him. Maybe I'm some New Age freak, but my experience of liking someone is that I want them to be happy and want good things to happen to them. Grrr, predatory.
Woman-as-cat is a strangely pervasive cultural metaphor. There's "pussy," of course, but I think that's mostly just a pube joke. But beyond that, there's this image of femininity as scheming, manipulative, as hunting with silence and sneakery while men (dogs) hunt with brutality and strength. We don't just express attraction to a guy, we stalk him from the shadows and lure him into our grasp and then pounce and bat him around for a bit before eating part of his intestines and leaving him out on the kitchen floor as a present for our owners because we love them so very much and then we go pee in a sandbox and kick a bunch of pee-sand out on the kitchen floor too.
Tell him you recognize that she's a siren, and if you had an attractive coworker who was that intent on seducing you, you're not sure you'd trust yourself alone with him.
But... I would. I mean, I'm with me all the time. I don't so much as scratch my nose without my permission. It's not like I'm going to sneak off and do something I don't approve of.
And I'm going to go ahead and be a sucker, and trust that the same is true of a man. It's possible that he'll decide to cheat on me, but that's not quite the "whoops, I tripped and landed in her vagina" situation you seem to be positing here.
Then follow up by giving him an ultimatum: You don't want him to have anything to do with her outside work obligations, and if he ever crosses the line, you're out.
Controlling which people your partner can associate with is a warm and healthy action done by good people.
I believe that if a company is losing business, and the only solution management can come up with is to hold a lot of meetings where they yell at the underlings "work harder, we need everyone working real super hard," that business is screwed. Likewise, if the only way you're keeping your partner from cheating is by ordering them not to, your relationship is in about the same place as Wile E. Coyote trying not to look down. A guy who wouldn't say no to a "super-predator" is a guy who wants to cheat anyway. It's not all about her super magic siren seduction powers.
This featherlight touch will have you both tingling: While still kneeling between his legs, dab flavored lube on your nipples. Then cup one of your breasts in your hand, and slide the top of your nipple from the bottom of his testicles to the tip of his shaft, circling the head and then sliding it back down.
Oh god, I thought I was kidding about "nipples on testicles"! I THOUGHT I WAS KIDDING.
Also... why does it need to be flavored lube?
Zero on each other's nipples. The nerves here have a direct connection to the nerves in your genitals[...]
See, this is what I mean by saying "the moon is made of bleu cheese." This isn't just a matter of disagreement with my opinions. This is disagreement with consensus reality. The nerves in your nipples have a direct connection with your brain. Obviously.
I think what Cosmo is trying to say is that your nipples may be psychologically associated with your genitals. Which they may be! But you don't get to describe something as a physical reality just because you sorta feel that way. That's like saying "my boyfriend and I have flesh that is literally fused together" to express how much you like him. It's factually wrong and it's just weird.
Yes, my husband, Scott, and I share plenty of awkward moments, but I would never let one rip in front of him and then wait to see whether he's repulsed.
Me either. I prefer to hit and run.
Without even getting into the feminist implications of not allowing women to have human biology (New Rule! The Krebs Cycle is unfeminine! Don't get caught metabolizing in front of your man, you ickypoo!), how does that even work? Do you go to the bathroom just to fart? Or do you hold it in and then... it doesn't just go away. Can it actually go all the way back up and turn into a burp? Does it sort of mix into your poo and aerate it, so you make a lot of floaters? Or do you just take the fartiest poops ever?
...boy, this is one sexy sexblog I've got here.
That said, psychologist Billy Lee Kidd [...] assures me that just because Scott's put off by my peeing with the door open, it doesn't mean he'll freak about all unsavory things, since guys usually find only some behaviors offensive. For instance, morning breath and bedhead may be fine--Kidd says they could remind Scott of sex.
It's good that you have his permission to have morning breath and bedhead (but only because they're sexy sex things!), because how the hell do you sleep with someone every night and not show them these things?
Also, that is the cowboyest name for a psychologist ever. "And his esteemed colleague, Wyatt Jesse Cassidy, PhD."
Player-proof your life: wait a few dates longer than you think you should to sleep with a guy. A-holes will lose interest and weed themselves out.
So the way to keep a guy from fucking and leaving is to test him and see if he... leaves. You're kinda out of luck either way, aren't you? At least one way you got laid.
The Alpha Male's bedroom MO? Nearly 50% of you said he makes you feel like the only woman on Earth.
"Oh my God... Mom? Grandma? Auntie? My best friend? My sister? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"