The Best of Dear Coquette E-Book

The Coquette

• Herausgeber: Icon Books
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 450

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

'Whoever The Coquette is, she's the voice of reason for these crazy times' Maria Alyokhina, Pussy Riot Dear Coquette unleashes the brutal truth about life, love, dating, sex and everything in between. For nearly a decade, The Coquette has delivered wisdom with a harsh wit and devastating elegance to the hundreds of thousands of readers who know where to come for her practical, no-nonsense advice. Rising forth from the glitter and madness of the L.A. party scene, this mysterious online oracle has evolved into one of the most insightful and conscientious voices of her generation, and Dear Coquette is consistently rated amongst the funniest and most beloved blogs on the net by publications ranging from The Guardian to The Huffington Post. Here, for the first time between hard covers, is the very best of Dear Coquette.

Leseprobe

[the best of] DEAR COQUETTE

[the best of] DEAR COQUETTE

Shady advice from a raging bitch who has no business answering any of these questions

Published in the UK in 2016 by Icon Books Ltd, Omnibus Business Centre, 39–41 North Road, London N7 9DP email: [email protected]

Sold in the UK, Europe and Asia by Faber & Faber Ltd, Bloomsbury House, 74–77 Great Russell Street, London WC1B 3DA or their agents

Distributed in the UK, Europe and Asia by Grantham Book Services, Trent Road, Grantham NG31 7XQ

Distributed in the USA by Publishers Group West, 1700 Fourth Street, Berkeley, CA 94710

Distributed in Australia and New Zealand by Allen & Unwin Pty Ltd, PO Box 8500, 83 Alexander Street, Crows Nest, NSW 2065

Distributed in South Africa by Jonathan Ball, Office B4, The District, 41 Sir Lowry Road, Woodstock 7925

Distributed in India by Penguin Books India, 7th Floor, Infinity Tower – C, DLF Cyber City, Gurgaon 122002, Haryana

Distributed in Canada by Publishers Group Canada, 76 Stafford Street, Unit 300, Toronto, Ontario M6J 2S1

ISBN: 978-178578-095-0

Text copyright © 2016 The Coquette

The author has asserted her moral rights.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Typeset in Baskerville by Marie Doherty

Printed and bound in the UK by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

CONTENTS

Introduction

PART I

On Love

On Sex

On Drugs

PART II

On Dating

On Relationships

On Breakups

PART III

On Friends

On Family

On Work

PART IV

On the Mental

On the Physical

On the Spiritual

PART V

On the Individual

On the Greater Good

On the Coquette

Introduction

Dear Coquette,

I’ve been thinking a lot about your book and how each of us has favorite posts, and how much our favorites say about who we are. Our questions say even more about us, and I cannot wait to read which ones you’ve chosen.

I’ve asked you so many questions over the years. Questions about trivial annoyances, self-discovery, heartbreak, and my deepest darkest fears. Sometimes they weren’t even questions. Sometimes I just wanted to share with someone who I knew would understand.

Thank you for answering. Thank you for showing us that while we can break, we can also break open, that we are not alone in our fears, our grief, our insecurities, or our ecstasies. I love this tribe of ours.

So tell me, what would you say to us after we’ve finished sitting at your feet to ask our questions? After we’ve all been fed and half of us have fallen asleep after a good fuck and the fire has died down and we’re just nursing the last of our whiskeys. When we are finally silent, what would you say?

Dear Reader,

I’ve been thinking a lot about this book too, but I can’t quite bring myself to call it my book. This is our book. It is a token of a shared journey, a memorialization of our years spent growing up alongside one another. We did this together, every last one of us, and I’m honored that you’ve chosen to be a part of it.

For those of you who’ve been here since the beginning, you already know what this means. When this all started we were a bunch of delinquent children in a treehouse slapped together in the backyard of the internet. It was a silly game of truth or dare that we played to escape our boring lives and annoying parents and that ex who had broken our hearts. We were fucking around just having some fun, and then somewhere along the way the conversation got deep, the problems became real, and we accidentally stumbled into our adulthood.

It’s been a hell of a ride, and this book has been a long time coming. Now that you’re holding it in your hands, I hope you feel how much it belongs to you, and I hope you enjoy what we’ve chosen for this best-of collection. It was a beautiful and brutal thing to sort through all of my thousands of posts and squeeze some order out of the chaos and madness. I think we did a damn fine job. (Shout out to my brilliant editor, Tom, without whom none of it would have been possible.)

The five parts of this book cover everything from love, sex and drugs to philosophical musings on the individual and the greater good. There’s even a bit about me. For those of you whose favorites didn’t make the cut, please accept my apologies ahead of time. No doubt you’ll understand that it takes a merciless form of math and murder to turn 3,500 pages into 350.

For those of you who are new, welcome. I hope you enjoy what you discover here. You’re a part of this now too, and as you learn more about what we’ve all been up to, maybe you’ll come to love this little tribe of ours as well.

Our tribe – I’ve never thought to use that word before, but there’s something deeply appealing about the idea. It fits. I love that you all have favorite posts. I love that you see yourselves in them. I love the depth and breadth of your countless questions and the connection I feel to each of you as I answer them.

I’ve had an absolute blast getting to know you all. You’ve taught me so much over the years. You’ve made me grow. You’ve made me think. You’ve made me proud. You’ve made me cry. You’ve allowed me into your lives, and you’ve been vulnerable in ways that never ceased to amaze. It really has been a fucking pleasure.

And to answer your question (as I always will), at the end of our day after we’ve all been fed, when the fire has died down and we’re nursing the last of our whiskeys, when those of us still awake have finished talking shit and telling stories, when we are all finally silent, then I will raise a glass and say what’s in my heart.

Thank you for being a part of my life.

You are all my secret treasure.

PART I

On Love

On true love and a greater purpose

Do you ever wonder why your here? And your purpose? Or if you’ll ever find true love? I think about these things every once in a while, and although its great being single and wild, these thoughts come and go. What about you?

As an existential nihilist, I have a problem with folks who indulge in grandiose wonderings about a greater purpose to life.

Anyone with the slightest sense of scale recognizes that nothing we do matters. In a universe so infinitely vast, our lives are entirely without meaning. The trick is being able to laugh at the abyss because you recognize the freedom it affords you.

Pondering your purpose is philosophical masturbation, and the only way you can make yourself cum is by surrendering rational thought to religious doctrine.

No thank you – I don’t need god. I already have a clit.

I’m perfectly cozy with the cold hard knowledge that I’ll die never understanding the nature of the universe. In the meantime, I’ve carved out my own little corner of paradise and filled it with all kinds of love, none of which I would insult by deeming any one more ‘true’ than the other.

That’s another thing – I can’t stand it when grown-ass women use the word ‘true’ as an adjective for something so important as love. There is no such thing as true love. Only love.

Going through life with the expectation of some fantastical form of uber-love is childish wish-thinking that would be silly if it weren’t so damaging to adult relationships.

Sure, I like The Princess Bride as much as the next gal, but fairy tales are lies we tell to children. Still, the myth of Prince Charming manages to sneak past Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny only to worm its way into our romantic expectations.

We don’t write letters to the North Pole anymore, but somehow we’re still waiting to be swept off our feet.

Again, no thank you – I don’t need a prince. I just need a guy who can find my clit.

On the point of relationships

What’s the point of relationships? If the initial high is temporary and then you stick together until you hate each other so much that you cheat or break up, then what’s the point? Is there ever a time when people find someone they really love?

The human condition is a fun ride, but don’t ever forget that we’re all just a bunch of talking meat wrapped around a sack of warm shit programmed to eat, sleep and fuck.

We’re social animals with a biological imperative to reproduce. That’s it. That’s all. Love is a neurochemical response with a shelf life long enough to perpetuate the species.

And hey, I don’t wanna hear you complaining about it either, because quite frankly, you’re one lucky motherfucker to have air in your lungs and the opportunity to be confused by it at all.

The last breath you just took is one more than a hundred billion human beings who came before you will ever get to take again, and one day, the last breath you just took will be the last breath you’ll ever take.

That day is the point of relationships, that day when you cease to fucking exist, because it’s guaranteed, my friend. This shit all ends, so cram as much love, joy and shout-it-from-the-rooftops happiness as you possibly can into whatever time you can make for yourself.

Meet as many interesting people as you can. Make as many friends as you can. Fall in love as many times as you can. Fuck it if it hurts sometimes. You’re one of the lucky ones who’s still breathing.

All we have in this world is relationships with other people. At this stage in our evolution, nothing else matters.

On all that matters

So wait, you just said both “We’re social animals with a biological imperative to reproduce. That’s it. That’s all. Love is a neurochemical response with a shelf life long enough to perpetuate the species.” and “All we have in this world is relationships with other people. At this stage in our evolution, nothing else matters.” I mean, yell at me all you want, but I’m confused. Is love not a relationship with another person? Does that mean it doesn’t matter or it’s all that matters? I don’t get it.

Both. It’s both, my friend. Love doesn’t matter, and yet it’s all that matters.

This doesn’t have to be confusing. You just have to be willing to accept the premise that nothing matters. We’re all dust. Not just our individual selves, but the entirety of the human experiment. It’s all going to be a pile of ashes one day.

Most people recoil at the thought of annihilation. It terrifies them. They invent silly gods and ridiculous myths of Armageddon or eternal life, all to stave off the creeping inevitability of the nothingness to which we will all return.

Don’t recoil from your own impermanence. Accept it. Embrace it. Gaze into the abyss, and let the abyss gaze back into you, because if you can let go of your fear while maintaining eye contact with nothingness, the singular importance of love will crystallize right in front of you. It will be an unavoidable revelation.

Love doesn’t matter, and yet it’s all that matters. The contradiction melts away once you come to terms with not just your but everything’s eventual annihilation. Sure, love is just a neurochemical response with a shelf life long enough to perpetuate the species, but so what? It’s all we’ve fucking got.

On saying those three words

Is it better to tell someone you love them when they say it or leave them hanging until you feel it?

Come on, people. This is Integrity 101. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. If you don’t love someone, don’t let them guilt you into saying ‘I love you’ out of some misguided sense of propriety.

You’re not leaving them hanging unless they’re expecting you to return the sentiment, and if that’s the case, then they’re not really saying ‘I love you’. What they’re really doing is committing little tiny acts of emotional extortion.

Don’t degrade ‘I love you’ by surrendering it against your will. Every time you say those three words you should feel it.

On reframing bisexuality

Oh, fuck. If I know I like men and women, how do I decide who to settle down with in the end?

I know this question is just an expression of your immaturity, but it annoys the shit out of me when people frame bisexuality as a false dilemma between genders. It’s not.

Go fall in love. Go get your heart broken, and then go do it again. Find out what it takes to be in a long-term relationship regardless of either of your genders. Learn about yourself. Figure out the kind of person you want to be and the kind of life you want to live.

Go do all that shit, and when you’ve finally grown up a bit, when you’ve wrapped your head around the wonderfully messy and messed-up complexity of interpersonal relationships, when you’ve come to terms with how little control you actually have over your romantic destiny in the first place, maybe then you’ll realize how ridiculous it is to reduce major life decisions about potential life partners to something as ultimately inconsequential as ‘penis vs vagina’.

What is the distinction between loving someone and being “in love” with them? Aren’t these just arbitrary constructs?

The classical distinction is between the concepts of Philia and Eros: of brotherly love versus romantic love. The modern distinction tends to be less sophisticated, and pretty much boils down to whether you still want to fuck somebody.

What do you do when you realize you love your significant other more than they love you?

Embrace your vulnerability.

How do I fall in love with my wife again?

Make sure you haven’t lost respect for her, and then simply be open to it.

I’ve accidentally fallen in love with a man who is the single parent of his 1-year-old son. This is not what I had planned out for myself. What do I do?

Get used to life not going according to plan.

I love him. I’ve loved him for a long time now. I know that he loves me too… why aren’t we saying it out loud?!?!

Because you’re so desperate for it.

What am I supposed to do when I’m in love with two different people?

That’s not a ‘supposed to do’ situation. What do you want to do? Try doing that. (If you’re honest with the people involved, and they don’t want what you want, then at that point, hopefully you’ll know more about what best to do.)

On letting go

I’m in love, but we’re going to college next year. She to Yale, I to Vanderbilt, so it’s most likely too far to keep a relationship in college. Do I just let it go or give a long-distance relationship a shot freshman year in college? It seems like it’d be near impossible, but I want to know what you think about it. Thanks, Coquette.

Let it go. Try to make it as mutual as possible. Your heart will break and you will miss her terribly that first semester at college. Still, if you say your goodbyes and split amicably, you’ll end the relationship on a high note.

If you try to stick it out, at best your relationship will die a slow death of long-distance starvation. At worst, incidents of infidelity will destroy your mutual respect. Either way, it ends badly.

It’s hard to see now, but the best outcome is that you remember each other fondly in the years to come. Life is long. It’s much better to have your first love as a friend ten years later.

On a crush junkie

There’s always been a guy in my life who I am completely obsessed with and/or devastated by. It’s the same formula each time: great sex, he’s aloof and emotionally reserved, I agonize over his text messages. I feel like shit during the entire thing, but I crave his attention/validation so much, contact with him is like a high. What is wrong with me and how do I fix it?

You just listed what’s wrong with you. Congratulations. You’ve correctly identified your dysfunctional pattern of behavior, and that’s the first step towards fixing it.

The second step is giving it a name. Some folks like to call what you’ve got a ‘love addiction’. I prefer the term ‘crush junkie’, because it’s not actual love, nor is it an actual addiction.

The third step is breaking the pattern. This is where things get difficult, because it’s entirely up to you to change your behavior. Stop obsessing over guys. Stop giving them the power to devastate you. Sure, that’s easier said than done, but it’s a lot easier to do when you start recognizing that your boy-crazy bullshit – all the attention-seeking behavior and desperate need for validation – it’s all just a substitute for having actual self-respect and self-worth.

Find your own internal source of validation, and let it be independent of any relationship. It’s not an easy thing to do, but it’s necessary for you to stay emotionally healthy, and it will help you to consciously choose not to let yourself get wrapped up in the experience of infatuation.

You can still enjoy the early romantic stages of a relationship, but when you can resist the urge to obsess over a guy because you know in your heart you don’t need his validation, you’ll also find that you won’t feel like shit any more.

On someone out there

do you actually believe that there is a stage in every relationship where you get bored of being with your partner? you don’t think that there is someone out there that could entertain your fancies, keep you laughing, and keep you orgasming year after year? i only ask because i have witnessed people with this relationship (namely my parents, i know… gross, but it’s true. and actually pretty endearing now), and i wonder if it’s absolutely naive of me to believe that i have any hope of achieving this with someone i’m with …or if it actually is a feasible possibility.

It never ceases to amaze me how some of you can turn this into an exercise in missing the motherfucking point. Is there someone out there that could entertain my fancies, keep me laughing, and keep me orgasming year after year? Fuck, what an infantile question.

Of course there is. Even if such a person were one in a million, there are literally thousands upon thousands of people out there who could do that shit standing on their heads. Don’t you get it?

There is no one magical person out there with the other half of my golden amulet. Instead, there’s a metric fuck-ton of beautiful and fascinating boys and girls to play with. Sometimes I even fall in love.

I surround myself with brilliant and witty people. I am responsible for my own orgasm. I am the empress of my own goddamn happiness whether I’m in a relationship with zero, one or several people at any given moment.

Your parents didn’t achieve relationship bliss because they found soulmate perfection in one another. They did it because they’re a damn good match and shit happened to work out for them. That’s commendable, but these days, it’s not the norm.

Also, don’t kid yourself. Boredom will eventually set in to every relationship. It doesn’t have to be a killer, though. Boredom doesn’t mean you stop laughing and fucking. Hell, most folks end up taking comfort in consistency. All I was saying is that fireworks always end.

Your naïveté doesn’t stem from your desire to be like your parents. That’s sweet, actually. Your naïveté stems from an underlying assumption that there is someone – a Prince Charming – who is somehow more perfect for you than all your other potential mates. That shit is ridiculous.

I’m not saying that you won’t eventually find someone who you think is perfect and settle down to a marriage very similar to the way your parents did it. Odds are, you will. After all, you were raised in a loving environment, and so the likelihood of scoring a similar situation is that much better.

That’s the point really. It’s all just a numbers game.

Good luck.

What’s left after the being in love phase is over?

Love. Or ennui. Or both. Depends on how you play it.

How do you keep a man in love?

Be cool.

When do I give up on an unrequited love?

As soon as possible.

What is the cure for unrequited love?

Time and distance.

On trying long distance

I’m trying a long-distance relationship for the first time. I really care about the girl, but I have always had a hard time keeping it in my pants. I’ve never really cheated – but in this instance I feel like it might eventually happen. Got any advice?

You’re asking a woman who is at this very moment doing her level fucking best to execute a dignified and graceful resolution to a loving and devoted long-distance relationship that has, at least for now, run its course.

Bad timing, shitbird. I’m about to fuck up your whole world.

A long-distance relationship isn’t something you casually try for the first time like Thai food or anal sex. A long-distance relationship is something you do because you absolutely motherfuckingly have to, and it’s bittersweet and painful and unbearable and you can’t live without it, which I suppose is still pretty much like Thai food or anal sex, but you get my point.

If all you can say is, ‘I really care about the girl’, that isn’t even close to enough. You’d better love that crazy bitch with every last ounce of douche you’ve got coursing through your veins. Otherwise, you’re setting yourself up to fail.

And what’s all this about eventually cheating? Quit planning to fuck up. Fidelity isn’t inversely proportional to distance, asshole. There are no teen sex comedy loopholes in real life.

Feel free to work out an open arrangement, but if you decide to go traditional, you’d better have the requisite integrity. Keep it in your motherfucking pants, or be honest about the fact that you can’t. It’s that simple.

I just spent a solid, passionate year loving someone across hundreds of miles of Pacific Coast Highway. It was the loneliest year of my life, punctuated by the most blissed-out orgiastic episodes of heroin-grade happiness I’ve ever known.

It’s an unnatural thing to maintain burning desire at a distance. You’ve gotta be an emotional athlete to handle the highs and lows. It requires a heart that’s pure and strong, and brother, I don’t think you’re in shape for it.

I’d wish you good luck, but it’d be wasted on your weak-ass shit. Long distance is for hardcore motherfuckers on fire.

You ain’t ready.

I’m in love with a married man. Please remind me how big of a piece of shit I am so I can move on from this toxic situation…

You can’t help who you fall in love with, and you’re not a piece of shit unless you have an actual affair with the guy. Quit punishing yourself. Forgive yourself instead.

True or false: If you truly love someone, being faithful is easy.

False. If you truly have integrity, being faithful is easy. Do not confuse love and integrity. Love is just an emotional state, and regardless of how deeply or intensely it may be felt, it’s still not a measure of the content of your character.

I’ve never been broken up with. I’ve ended the few serious relationships I’ve been in. This bothers me, but I’m not sure what to do about it.

That’s not what bothers you. What bothers you is that you don’t know whether you’ve ever really been in love.

On prince charming disease

I love my boyfriend in a very warm, comfortable and affectionate way. We are on almost the same page intellectually, and we never fight. Things are pretty much “no complaints” all around. On my end, though, it’s not really a passionate love and never has been. He’s the best guy I’ve ever dated, and I do love him, but there is a small part of me that still wants to hold out for at least a steamy love affair before settling down with the safe and comfortable guy (or just find a good guy who also presses my buttons). I’m happy and couldn’t bring myself to leave my guy, but I wonder if this desire for something more exciting will rear up one day and make a big pile of relationship-ruining drama. Should I interpret this feeling as a sign I should leave, even though I don’t want to right now? Or should I just roll with it and deal with it later, if it really becomes a bigger issue?

At moments like these, I want to drive up to Forest Lawn, find Walt Disney’s grave, dig up whatever part of him wasn’t cryogenically frozen, and bitch-slap him for infecting generations of American women with something I like to call ‘Prince Charming Disease’.

This is a terrible affliction that causes grown-ass women to ruin perfectly good relationships by pining away for a nebulous cartoon fiction: passionate, steamy, ‘happily ever after’ love.

‘Snow White’, ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and ‘Cinderella’ are delicious fun when you’re a little girl, but fairy tales are lies we tell to children. The myth of Prince Charming has no business sneaking past Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and worming its way into your romantic expectations. Do you still write letters to the North Pole? Didn’t think so – and yet you’re still waiting to be swept off your feet.

You are happy in a stable, healthy relationship built on mutual love and respect with a man whom you consider your intellectual and emotional equal. Girl, you and I should be high-fiving like drunken frat boys at a strip club. Instead, you’re writing me about the best guy you’ve ever dated like he’s the winter of your discontent.

You want to hold out for a steamy love affair? You actually used the word ‘steamy’? Are you kidding? Sure, you could find a guy who bends you over the furniture, but fresh sexual chemistry is a temporary high, and it isn’t gonna scratch your itch.

Your real problem is that you haven’t plowed through enough guys to realize that they’re all pretty much the same, and so every time the music swells at the end of a chick flick, you think you’re missing out on something magical.

Sorry, babe. Nobody is waiting around the corner on a white horse.

If you weren’t emotionally, intellectually or physically satisfied, that would be another story – just not this one. You’re happy, and nothing is broken except your childlike set of unrealistic romantic expectations, which would be quaint if they weren’t so damaging to adult relationships like yours.

On falling in love

Do you think one month is too soon to fall in love? Or 2 months? 3 months? Is there a point where it’s just too soon? Or should I just pay more attention to my feelings and less to my calendar?

One month is long enough to be love stoned, but in love? Not unless you’re a silly teenager. Three intense months might do it, but it’d still be a raw emotion without the kind of shared life experience that really gets you there.

Ignore the calendar, but take your time.

On learning to love yourself

How do you learn to love yourself? How do you “realize” that in your deepest of hearts you are worthy? I’ve been trying for years and after every new strategy or life-changing decision I always reach the same conclusion: I’m not. I could give you a list of reasons why I’m right to think that and I could give you a list of reasons why I’m stupid and wrong to think that. My reasoning tells me that the second list is me trying to lie to myself. How do you love the skin you’re in? How do you love your personality? How do you, coketalk, do it?

Stop all this ‘trying to learn to realize’ bullshit. You’re tripping all over yourself with lists and strategy and reasoning. This isn’t a process for your ego or your rational mind. You’re not going to think your way into loving yourself.

Sorry to get all Yoda up in this bitch, but love or love not. There is no try.

The simple truth is that you are worthy of love. That goes for every last motherfucker on the planet. Whether you realize it or not is purely a matter of getting out of your own way.

Seriously, don’t you get how amazing it is to be alive? One day you won’t be. In the meantime, the skin you’re in will wither and age, your personality will ebb and flow, and everything around you will be in a constant state of flux. Ultimately, none of it really matters, except for those moments of joy you carve out for yourself, and you can only experience joy when you forget all the bullshit and remember that you really do love yourself after all.

This isn’t about self-confidence. It’s not even about self-acceptance really. That’s the fucking irony here. Loving yourself isn’t about the ‘self’. It’s a difficult concept to communicate. I’ve hinted at it before, but once you’ve had the experience of truly letting go of your ego, you’ll understand what I mean. There’s a freedom that comes in accepting in its totality both the extraordinary nature and fleeting insignificance of the human condition. For some reason, afterward, it’s really fucking easy to love yourself.

Don’t worry, I’m not gonna start singing Kumbaya or some shit. You wanted to know how I did it, and that’s pretty much it. I guess all I’m trying to say is, it’s not that you ever really learn to love yourself. In the end, if you’re lucky, you just forget not to.

On teenage love

Can you be in love with someone after only dating them for a short amount of time? Yes I’m a stupid teenage girl who believes in love, sue me.

Sue you for what? Bubble gum and a sense of entitlement?

Shit sweetie, I’m a bitch, but I’m not so nasty a shrew as to slap away the cartoon songbirds that are fluttering around your candy-filled head.

Enjoy the rush. Have a blast. Savor every minute of the experience. Really, I mean it. Young love is the greatest drug on the planet. Just remember, I’ll be here after the holidays when break-up season hits.

On Sex

On the real thing

How do I keep myself from feeling jaded and bitter that I’ve never found anything more than the kind of sex for sale on TV?

The whole reason they’re selling that kind of sex on TV is so they can make you feel jaded and bitter about your sexuality. That’s how they get you to buy all the other silly plastic things.

Stop letting consumer culture define sex for you. You’ve never found anything more than the kind of sex for sale on TV because you haven’t even stopped to examine for yourself what the real thing might be like.

It’s up to you to figure it out. It requires self-exploration and probably a little experimentation. You have to relentlessly ask yourself, ‘Why?’ You have to be vulnerable. You have to be willing to connect with another human being on terms that you define by and for yourself.

That’s the thrilling part, the connection. I’m not talking about love. Hell, I’m not even talking about chemistry. I’m talking about a mutual and momentary annihilation of the ego through a sexual act. It’s some spiritual shit. The sex itself is almost incidental, and that’s kind of the point.

How you go about finding it is your own thing, but you have to be willing to fucking look for it. You have to recognize that it’s an internal quest. Those are never easy, and while it might occasionally leave you confused and frustrated, at least it won’t leave you jaded and bitter.

On your virginity

How do you know when to give up your virginity? People talk about how it’s a special gift to have but I don’t really see what’s so special about it or who to give it up to. I’m probably not ready to have sex if I’m still asking these questions right?

Virginity isn’t a special gift, because your vagina isn’t a commodity. Whether you’re gifting it or selling it, only prostitutes treat pussy as an article of exchange.

The irony here is that the same sanctimonious pricks who condemn prostitution are the very ones to tell you that your virginity is something that you should hand over to a man under select circumstances. Those people are full of shit, and you should stop listening to what they have to say about your vagina.

The truth of the matter is that your body is nobody’s business but your own. Your virginity is yours to keep, lose, or shrug your shoulders at for as long as you like. You’re ready when you’re ready. If you’re not, just hang tight until it feels right. Despite all you’ve learned from popular culture, there is no rush to start fucking.

As for virginity itself, it may not be a gift, but that doesn’t mean it’s not special. You only get to lose it once, and if you bring your heart and mind into the decision, you’re much more likely to be prepared for any emotional or physical consequences.

Sex can get sticky. Literally. Sure, there’s the obvious stuff you learned in health class. Don’t get pregnant, make him wear a condom, and all that. It’s important, but really, those are just the instructions printed on the side of the box.

What they don’t ever really tell you is that once you start having sex, you’re dealing with a sudden increase in the potential depth and breadth of the level of intimacy in your interpersonal relationships. It can be both wonderful and terrible, and it really depends on everyone’s level of emotional maturity.

The most important thing for you to have as you make this decision is self-respect. After that, I’d suggest you focus less on how or when to lose your virginity, and more on why.

If you know why you’re doing it, and you respect yourself, whatever else you decide will be fine.

On porn

Why do I have a problem with porn? I didn’t used to think about it but the more I read about it the more I feel uncomfortable with it, like men are getting off over women being degraded and it makes me feel sick. But then I think maybe I’m just being a bad feminist? It’s confusing :/

Porn isn’t inherently degrading to women any more than sex is inherently degrading to women. What makes things degrading are patriarchal and misogynistic power dynamics.

Some porn is obviously very degrading to women, but there’s also quite a bit of porn these days that is empowering to women. What gets tricky is that some porn is both, depending on where you’re standing. You have to pay attention to the power dynamics at play, not just on-screen, but within the larger context of how and by whom that porn is consumed.

As with any aspect of the sex industry (or any industry, for that matter) if there’s a situation where you need to do a feminist gut check, just ask yourself, who is profiting? Who is in control? Who has the power? If the answer is men at the expense of women, then you have every reason to react negatively.

Whatever problem it is you have with porn, recognize that it’s actually about those misogynistic power dynamics, and adjust your opinions accordingly.

On blowjobs

Is it ever acceptable to use the phrase “you’re too big” or is it just a shitty excuse for a job poorly done? I consider myself to be at least halfway sexually adept but I’m no porn star. How can I still maximize his pleasure without getting my throat fucked raw multiple times a week?

Once upon a time, a blowjob was a rare and special gift reserved for birthdays and anniversaries, and if on such a momentous occasion you were capable of suppressing your gag reflex to swallow his cock for even the briefest of seconds, he would crown you a deep-throat queen and throw diamonds at your feet.

Those days are gone forever. I blame the internet.

Our men have been raised on a steady diet of cheap and readily available gonzo porn with an ever hardening core. It’s not enough to start out with an oral sex scene any more. Now every run-ofthe-mill porn starlet has in her repertoire the ability to unhinge her jaw for a throat fucking so violent she ends up shooting vomit out of her nose.

Expectations have been raised. Standards have been lowered. Having one’s face aggressively cock-pounded for twenty asphyxiating minutes is now just an average blowjob.

I respect that you want to maximize his pleasure, but perhaps it’s time to change the game.

I suggest you move to a wet two-handed technique where you work the shaft like a traditional lubricated handjob. You only keep the head of his cock in your mouth, which allows you easier breathing and much better use of your tongue.

The trick here is plenty of lube (and/or spit) on your palms so that your hands become an extension of your mouth. As with all good blowjob advice, don’t forget to tickle his balls.

The moment’s passed, obviously, but any advice as to what to do when I’m blowing a guy (on and off again bf), I look up and he’s checking his fucking phone, mid-fellatio?

If you’re just trying to get him off, feel free to immediately end the blowjob. If there’s something in it for you (like you’re getting him hard enough to fuck, or you simply enjoy sucking dick) then it’s up to you whether to give a shit. In my experience, it’s better to find that kind of thing funny rather than insulting.

I spent the night with someone. Before we went to bed, I said I was going to get some condoms. She said that I didn’t have to worry, because she takes pills. I’m right now a bit restless about it. How can I tactfully ask her if she does indeed take them?

You can’t. Now you have to spend an entire month in a constant state of anxiety praying to a god that doesn’t exist that this sloppy bitch gets her next period. That’s what you get for being an idiot.

If you were tied down and blindfolded to a bed and had a variety of men and women to eat your pussy, do you think you’d be able to identify the men from the women?

Easily. I know this from experience.

Why do I fantasize about having sex with his friends?

Partly because it’s forbidden. Partly because they’re within easy reach for fantasizing. Mostly because it turns you on. (Hey, that’s what fantasies are for.)

How do people really into BDSM go from slapping and blindfolding and belittling their partners to ‘ok we have to go grocery shopping now’… seems so awkward afterwards.

If things seem awkward afterward, then you’re doing it wrong. (And by ‘it’ I’m not referring to the sex, kinky or otherwise. I’m referring to clear and open communication with your partner.)

Am I bi if I only sleep with women and don’t like dick, but fool around with men I feel comfortable with?

I’m not sure whether you’re a predominantly homosexual woman coming to terms with incidental heterosexual tendencies or a predominantly heterosexual man coming to terms with incidental homosexual tendencies, but it’s entirely up to you whether you choose to identify as bisexual. You can if you want, you don’t have to if you don’t, and no one else gets to decide but you.

The girl I’m casually seeing just told me no one’s ever been able to make her come. What should I do?

Tell her that it’s perfectly okay and that there’s nothing wrong with her. Tell her that you appreciate her openness and vulnerability. Don’t take it as a challenge, and don’t put any pressure on her to have an orgasm. In other words, don’t make it about you.

What’s the point of hatefucks? Like, to take a food analogy, if you hate carrots, why eat some when you can have tomatoes or beets?

Your analogy confuses hatefucking with actually hating to fuck. A better food analogy would be that a hatefuck is like a pie eating contest – it’s aggressive, messy, and it requires that you momentarily suspend your dignity, but every once in a while it’s fun to gorge yourself without having to give a shit about table manners.

I need ideas for dirty talk in the bedroom. I’m not into ‘slut’, but ‘that feels so fuckin’ good’ is just getting old…

The trick to dirty talk is using the second person imperative mood to describe the physical action as it’s taking place in the moment. When in doubt, just fall back on basic ‘verb (suck, lick, fuck) that adjective (hard, wet, hot) noun (cock, pussy, ass)’ sentence structure.

Why does sex always complicate things?

Because you let it.

Are you still a virgin if you use a vibrator?

You’re still a virgin if you have to ask this question.

Why can’t I quit masturbating?

You don’t have to quit, and you don’t have to listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.

Is watching porn bad for you?

It’s fine. Just don’t let it get in the way of other things.

On taking it up the ass

I love anal play and anal sex, but it always feels a little degrading for me. My boyfriend is super respectful when we do it, but I can’t help thinking he – and most men – feel somewhat superior for getting to stick it into my ass. I hate to think he validates his masculinity by fucking me from behind, and him not letting me get anywhere near his region only reinforces the superiority/inferiority dynamic. Is there a way to ever get comfortable and to change these internalized misconceptions (both his and mine) about anal sex?

Hmm. Sounds like you’ve got a little cognitive dissonance going on when it comes to your butthole. It’s no big deal, really. All you have to do is identify why anal sex feels a little degrading for you, and if I had to guess, there was probably a guy in your past, perhaps the very guy who introduced you to butt play, who also got off on dominating you inappropriately, or who at least behaved in some manner that made you feel degraded, and now you associate those emotions with taking it up the ass in general.

Like most women, I’m guessing you went through your bad boy phase in your early twenties, and while you were expanding your sexual horizons (a good thing) you also spent time in romantic relationships with a dirtbag or two who treated you like absolute shit (a bad thing), and it would seem you’re still storing some of that emotional baggage up your butt.

The biggest clue here is that you feel there are power dynamics at play with regard to anal sex, but not necessarily with regard to oral or vaginal sex, because I assure you, the kind of men who feel superior for getting to stick it into your ass are the kind of men who feel superior getting to stick it anywhere.

If your boyfriend really is super-respectful around your butthole, and you do in fact love anal sex, then take a hot minute to step back and look at your sex life retrospectively. Identify and acknowledge the source of your degrading feelings about anal sex, and then leave that mess in the past where it belongs.

Now, as for your boyfriend’s attitude towards his own ass, there’s not really much you can do. If he doesn’t want anything up there, then that’s his loss, but don’t make it about a superiority/inferiority dynamic when it’s really about your boyfriend just being typical and unadventurous. Most dudes are just like that. They go their entire lives not realizing they’ve got a prostate in there that can do tricks. Poor bastards.

On religion in the bedroom

This guy I’m seeing won’t have sex with me for religious reasons but requests to cum on my face while pouring champagne. No shit. Serial killer?

Yeah, this guy seems deeply in touch with his lord and savior.

I love how it’s perfectly acceptable for him to blow a load in your face like you’re a porn star he just bought bottle service, but the omniscient creator of the universe would suddenly have a problem if you two engaged in even the slightest bit of premarital vaginal intercourse.

Ugh, that’s so fucking creepy. Seriously, though. Don’t date people who bring religion into the bedroom. Just don’t.

On selling your innocence

Hey Coketalk, first time caller here. So I was offered $780 for my virginity from a guy I have never met. Should I consider this? I mean, I just want to lose my virginity and be done with it, but then again I’d be a whore.

You’d be a prostitute, not a whore, and while $780 is an average take for a private dancer doing an hour at a bachelor party in Vegas, it’s kind of a low-rent offer for your virginity.

Come on, didn’t you see the movie Taken? If you’re certified pure, that ass is worth a helluva lot more than 700 and change on the black market.

It’s also a really strange number. Seven hundred and eighty? Was it gonna be 800, but then he ordered a pizza? What the fuck?

Listen, kiddo. I highly recommend you ignore not only this offer, but all subsequent communication from this creep. He’s not just trying to buy sex. He’s trying to buy your innocence. That’s fucked up. It’s predatory and twisted, and you don’t want anything to do with someone that unhealthy.

Sure, you want to lose your virginity. It’s a natural part of the human condition, but doing it just to get it over with is lazy and dumb.

There aren’t that many firsts in life with this much psychic magnitude over which you have total control. For someone with self-respect, it’s an opportunity for exploration and growth.

It doesn’t have to be double-rainbow special, but don’t waste it. Don’t sell it either. Honestly, sweetie, if you don’t know what something is worth, it’s probably best not to put a price on it.

On rape fantasy

I am a self-respecting woman in a happy relationship based on mutual trust & respect. When I masturbate, I fantasize about being treated like an object. Head pushed down into someone’s lap; being taken home from a bar and asked to have a threesome; forced to do things I do not want to do. Shit I would be repulsed by/would not tolerate if it actually happened. Sometimes after getting off, I feel dirty for even thinking those things. I’ve heard the term “rape fantasy” being thrown around; can you shed some light on the issue?

Your first sentence translates roughly into, ‘I’m not a freak.’ Then your next three sentences break down into, ‘but I like to get freaky’.

I know it seems like an oversimplification, but believe me, that’s your problem right there. It’s called cognitive dissonance, and it’s the end result of living in a culture that still shames women for their sexual desires.

We all have a dark and sticky place we go to in our minds when we’re trying to get off. Every last one of us does it, not every time, but we’ve each got a basement with some dripping nasty shit locked away in it.

Thing is, you feel guilty for it, so your psyche bakes up little Freudian pie filled with repression, displacement and sublimation and serves you up a hot slice of rape fantasy.

It’s delicious and guilt-free, because it allows you to experience all that dark sexual desire without owning it. If it’s against your will, you don’t have to take any responsibility for the shit you want done to you hard and twice.

Of course, after you cum there’s that moment of clarity where there’s really no denying how you got yourself off, so you catch that wave of guilt.

Quit feeling the guilt. You’ve got no reason to be ashamed, and quite frankly, you’re getting off to pretty garden-variety stuff.

Now, I’m not speaking for all rape fantasies here, just your type where it’s more about submission and surrendering free will. There’s a whole other level where it’s actually about violence and self-annihilation and other horrible shit that stems from unhealthy places.

Don’t worry. That ain’t you.

Oh, and do yourself a favor. Don’t get all brave and ask your boyfriend to try it out on you. Planning out a role play version of a rape fantasy is an exercise in logical paradox that ends up being a punch line to an awkward joke.

Trust me, what you’re interested in is called dominance and submission. You’re a sub. Start out light. Have fun.

We’ve been together for 8 months. He wants to have anal. I have never felt comfortable with the idea and really do not want it. Do I give in for him, or stand my ground. I feel so silly asking this.

Whether it’s been eight months or eight years, if you don’t wanna take it up the ass, don’t fucking take it up the ass.

Why do men always want to fold me into a pretzel during sex?

Porn.

The last two guys I’ve had sex were healthy guys in their mid 20s and both had issues with E.D. Both claimed that it was because of their use of porn they were having issues with impotence and/or delayed ejaculation. Is this becoming a regular trend with young men?

In my completely unscientific opinion, absolutely yes.

Is it wrong or inappropriate of me to ask someone I’m dating to get an std check before having sex with them?

There’s nothing wrong with asking, but it does require some tact.

On internet porn

I’m engaged and I love my dude, but I’m pretty sure he’s addicted to porn. I know, it sounds fucking stupid, but there’s no other explanation for what’s going on. I’ll wake up in the morning and leave our room to get some water or make lunch for later and he’ll be on his computer. As soon as he realizes that I’m in the room, he starts typing quickly and talks to me about whatever website he’s looking at. I’m not stupid, I know he’s beating off. I watch porn too, so it’s not a huge deal for me, but when you have a chick in the room next to you who LOVES to get her bone on, it doesn’t make sense to be fapping before work. I haven’t gained weight, I don’t cry during sex, I know I’m not boring in bed, and he’s for sure not cheating. It’s making me feel shitty about myself and it’s pretty much ruining my sex drive (which was pretty high). I already manned up and spoke to him about it, but I certainly don’t feel any better and I honestly don’t know what else to do about it.

The good news is, this isn’t about you – he’s normal and not at all addicted to porn.

The porn was there before you showed up, and it’ll be there after you’re gone. Our pool of eligible bachelors and boyfriends have been downloading endless streams of progressively raunchier and raunchier hardcore pornography for well over a decade.

It’s really quite remarkable when you consider that by the time our guys have jerked their way through a single bottle of Jergens, they’ve absorbed more XXX action than existed in all the world at the time of their births.

Try contemplating the breadth, depth and mind-boggling magnitude of all the porn sites, porn genres and porn stars freely available for viewing at every hour. Do you honestly expect to compete with just one measly vagina?

You could be a bisexual nymphomaniac fashion model and you still couldn’t hold your own against internet porn, which leads me to the bad news: this isn’t about you – he’s normal and not at all addicted to porn.

You couldn’t be more wrong in your assumption that ‘when you have a chick in the room next to you who LOVES to get her bone on, it doesn’t make sense to be fapping before work’.

I’m sorry, but ask any straight guy without a vested interest in boning you, and if he’s honest he’ll tell you that sexing the ol’ ball-and-chain can be a chore, but getting a good wank in before work is pure recreation.

In other words, when he’s fucking, he’s trying to please you. When he’s jerking, he’s trying to please himself. Surely you understand the difference.

I’ve dealt with this very situation, and if you’re willing to put in a little extra effort, I’ve got a foolproof solution that will have him mounting you in no time.

Next time you catch him in the act, tell him you want to replace his hand with your mouth. Don’t let him stop surfing the porn. Go down on him right then and there with no hesitation and make sure he keeps surfing the porn as if you weren’t even in the room. Make it about pleasing him, and I guarantee you he’ll eventually shove the computer aside and pound you like the porn star he was just watching.

Good luck.

On premature ejaculation

Every guy I’ve ever been with has came in less than 5 minutes in bed. I’m not exactly sure if I’m just the shit in the sack or I make bad picks, but either way I’m getting no satisfaction. How can I help this?