What are you hiding?

 
"... what does that mean, know me? To know me? ... nobody ever knows anybody else... ever! You will never know me." - Rules of Attraction

What does it really mean to know somebody? I feel like I know the people closest to me, but maybe I don't. As I type that, I realize, even the friends I hold deep in my heart, don't know a lot about me. They don't know all the things I've done, or how I feel deep down in the pit of my stomach. But the truth is, if given the option between the version they have of me, vs. the reality; they would pick the version they already know. Because we all have dirty little secrets. We all have things that we don't want anyone to know. There are some things you just don't tell the people you love, not because you feel shame for what you've done, but because your decisions affect them, and if those decisions will stain their memories of you, it becomes more considerate to simply keep it to yourself. So we keep our secrets bottled up tight. No one has to know, and no one really wants to know anyway. No one really wants the unedited, directors-cut version of you. We all want the studio release. The one that passed all the focus groups, the one that the critics gave two thumbs up. Commercial, marketable, packaged up in a pretty little box with a fancy bow. This is me, and you, and them, and everybody I know but don't really know.

There is something safe in not knowing the deep dark secrets of those around us. What if they're dirty? What if they're evil? What if they scare us? Would we ever be able to look at these people the same way again? We like the cover up. We like the shroud of seeming "normalcy" that cascade these people we give our hearts and respect to. Friends, lovers, professors, fathers, mothers; we trust them, with a partial blind eye attached to the love.

This isn't a conspiracy theory I'm working on either. These lives we live are full of so many different faucets, how could we ever expect someone to "know" about all of it? How can we expect someone to "understand" everything as well? Without judgment, without losing their respect, or their trust...

Maybe it's just me though. Maybe I'm the one with the secrets. All the compartmentalized sections of my mind, where I live many different lives; each one co-existing with the others. A myriad of different people, all residing together in this chaotic cluster fuck known as my life. Functional schizophrenia; that's what I'll call it. I know what you're thinking though... "Oh Bridgette, look at you being all dramatic." And maybe that's true. Maybe I am a little "dramatic." But more so than my drama induced, self-diagnosed multiple-personality disorder, I'm terribly frightened that it really is, just me. That I'm the only one with the secrets; with the evil and devious thoughts. That I'm the only one with this fear in my belly, of ultimately being "found out," and the picture perfect version of who I am, shattering right before my eyes.

Maybe I'm afraid of myself. The places I've been, the disasters I've created and then run away from. Maybe I'm afraid of what I know I'm capable of. There is an evil inside of me; a small bubble of revenge soaked hate. Right now, it's buried so far down, it seems quite impossible that it could ever surface in the same way it once did; so many years ago. But I can feel it churning around inside me. I can feel it shifting positions, just waiting for someone, something, anything, to pull the trigger. But it wouldn't be some miraculous explosion. It wouldn't come gushing out with puddles of muck encasing my feet. It would be a slow burn, a calculated leak. Bit by bit, piece by piece, moving at a snails pace through my whole body, taking over one cell at a time; until I was entirely consumed in the magnificence of it all.

So dramatic Bridgette!

... and it's true. I am quite dramatic. Jumping from point A to point Z and then back again, in a matter of mere seconds. But the truth behind the dramatic tonnage I so frequently flood my words with, lays a concept I believe most fully in:

We all have deep dark secrets inside of us. Secrets that would destroy us, free us, or simply stain the image those we love have of us. In the end, we're the only ones that have to live with these secrets. We choose whether or not sharing them would do more harm than good. Because even if you don't want to believe it, the truth is, NONE of us really want to know what it is those around us are hiding. NONE of us want the whole story, the full picture, all 50 takes of the same scene. You might think you do, but you don't. Because if you knew what I knew, you wouldn't want to know me anymore. And if you told me that one thing you've never told anybody, I probably wouldn't want to know you either.

And isn't it a little funny? Knowing all the dirty secrets we have, yet still feeling like we can judge those around us who are either, brave enough to let theirs out, or were careless enough to let themselves become exposed. I can't decide if that's ironic, or tragic, or both?

Ultimately, I probably don't want to know your secret, and you most definitely don't want to know mine. But just for the record, I know you have one, or two, or many. And there will come a day, most likely in a post-coital moment of embrace, where your defenses will have fallen to waste-side, and you'll be bleeding vulnerability right into my arms. And I'll ask you a question that, if truthfully answered, would end it all. So quiet your lips. Close your eyes. Take a moment, and ask yourself...

What are you hiding? 

Because we're all hiding something. Some of us better than others, but nonetheless, your secrets are yours and yours alone.

 

Believe it. Learn it. Hold on to it. 

I'm telling you right now... you don't really want to know.

love you mean it.

Let's talk about sex baby...

A few days ago, a friend of mine posted a blog entry about the different levels of a "woman's sexual performance," and suggested that I write one for the fellas. You can read his post HERE.

I've always wanted to write a "male performance review," but never had the motivation to do so. After talking with some girlfriends about their most recent exploits, I have come to the tragic realization, that most of their sexual experiences, have been less than stellar. Let's be honest, people in their 20's are fucking a lot. We're fucking a lot, with strangers, with lovers, and significant others.

With all this fucking going on, we should be able to talk about it, right?

(DISCLAIMER: This is all based on MY sexual experience, and the things I like/don't. EVERY girl is different, and while I'm attempting to generalize my overall opinion, the bottom line is, it's still, MY OPINION. All vaginas are their own, unique, Rubik's Cube of magic... just because you unlock the combination to one, DOES NOT mean you've unlocked the combination to all.)

FOREPLAY:

Hands down, probably the most important part of the sexual experience for the ladies. Vagina's are like vintage cars. You have to warm up the engine for a solid 15 minutes before you take them out for a spin. Sure, sometimes you're late for work and you just want to get nailed before you leave the house. During those circumstances, it is perfectly acceptable to skip over most foreplay, and get right to the down to the dirt dirty. BUT when you have the time, foreplay is the key to setting the mood, getting your girl off, and having a satisfying experience.

There are THREE rules/requirements which must be incorporated into all foreplay, in order for it to be successful, and ultimately lead to sexy-times:

1) BE A GOOD KISSER! - For the love of god, how motherfucking hard is it for you guys NOT to stick your entire tongue in our mouths? What makes you think licking our tonsils is sexy? Boys boys boys... it's all about the lips. Kiss softly, part them slowly, and use  your tongue SPARINGLY. When things get hot and heavy, that is not, I repeat NOT a signal for you to switch into your alter ego; Captain McTongue Plunger. My throat is not clogged, and I do not appreciate the esophagus examination. Kissing can be magic. AND there is a theory floating around the inner female circles, that men who are good kissers, are also good in bed. In my experience, this has been true 95% of the time. I'm just sayin'...

2) BE CONFIDENT! - I can't express fully enough, what a HUGE turn-off it is when guys are shy and tentative. If you want to kiss me, grab me and kiss me. Don't wait for me to make the first move. Do NOT timidly saunter around the room. If you want me, show me. I do not have time to waste reading mixed signals because you don't have the balls to make a move. This doesn't mean that you need to be an asshole, but you do need to BE A MAN.  There have been countless occasions where I've been into a guy, and they were so nervous and flustered when it came down to the "make-out session," I was immediately turned off. I know girls can be scary, I'm scary, but if you want to be with me, or ANY girl that has flare/sass/fantastic verbal discourse, you're going to have to man up, and be aggressive.

3) TEASE ME! - Seriously guys, like 70% of a girls excitement factor, falls into the teasing arena. ALL woman want what they can't have. So, if you pretend that you're not going to give it to us, WE'RE GOING TO WANT IT MORE. Building anticipation, heightens the intensity of the experience, and the greater the intensity, the greater the orgasm. I know they say, "if you can make a girl laugh, your can make her do anything," but I think it's much more accurate to say, "if you can make a girl cum, you can make her do anything." It's true. Believe it. If you don't believe it, you've probably never made a girl cum before, and that, in itself, is tragic...

The other stuff that comes with foreplay is all about feeling out the situation. When you're in the heat of the moment, it's okay to "feel around," and figure out what your girl likes. Don't think about it too much, because the more you're in your head, the less you're in the moment, and foreplay is all about, "being in the moment."  

ORAL SEX:

Okay. This is pretty cut and dry. You're either good at this, or you're not. Since a lot of girls can ONLY get-off from oral sex, it is really IMPORTANT that you're good at this, or at least working on being good at this.

The BEST "oral sex instructional guide" I've ever read, was in VICE magazine. I can't write anything better about it, so I'm not going to try. 

HOW TO PROPERLY PERFORM CUNNILINGUS

HOW TO PROPERLY PERFORM FELLATIO  

happy reading.

SEXY-TIME:

Congrats! You've made it to the point of penetration! Don't you feel special? I'm going to break things down into levels now; where do you think you fail... er... I mean... uh fall... where do you "fall?"

Level 1 - I'll be laughing with my friends about this later.

The foreplay was obviously decent enough to get you to this point, but something got lost in translation from the time we stopped kissing to when you put the condom on. This is the kind of sex that you can't help but laugh about later. It's usually a guy who doesn't know what the definition of rhythm is, and has somehow, all of a sudden, forgotten the three most important rules: 1) BE A GOOD KISSER! 2) BE CONFIDENT! 3) TEASE ME! ... Things get real awkward, real quick and the guy either, 1) starts jack hammering like a bunny on meth, or  2) loses any sense of motion and things just get... "choppy." 

BTW: JACK-HAMMERING IS NEVER OKAY. It's basically the equivalent of masturbating with a vagina... it does NOT feel good. I do NOT like it and I will NOT be seeing you again. Things usually turn so comical, I have, on occasion, retreated back into my mind and started making a check list of all the 'LOLZ' I will be regaling my friends with at brunch the next day. Tragically, many men qualify this experience as "good sex," and continue to call me for "dates." This blows my mind, and I don't know how to accurately get the message across, that you my friend, have officially been classified as: "the awkward sex guy I went home with last night." Congratulations, you FAIL.

Level 2 - So hot, but so stupid.

There is an intense attraction... You're super hot and I've been dreaming of licking things off your abs all night. Being such a stud creates an illusion of confidence and while you're definitely NOT "future-husband-material," you're still ridiculously attractive, and an awesome kisser to boot. At this point, everything's perfect and then, the guy talks. This guy is pretty dumb, but thus far, was hot enough to bypass most of my intellectual barriers. Unfortunately, upon realizing my stud horse might actually have an IQ equal to that of tanbark, I start to lose interest. The attraction is strong enough to keep the heat going, but knowing that I'm feeling things on an entirely different spectrum; makes the moment disconnected. Things feel a bit empty and ultimately meaningless. That's not to say meaningless sex can't, on occasion, be entertaining for your vagina, BUT, when you've had amazing, meaningFUL sex with someone else, the empty, anonymous sex loses its novelty real fast. There aren't too many tips I can offer here, other than: DON'T BE RETARDED.

Seriously, read a motherfucking book every once in a while bitch. And if you could please attempt to know something OTHER than assorted sports trivia, and UFC factoids, it would be much appreciated, k, thx.

Level 3 - You're pretty amazing.

The sex at this level, is what most of us search for and hopefully end up experiencing with the people we're really excited about fucking. This is the girl that makes you wash extra long in the shower before your sexy-time rendezvous. The whole experience is passionate, gratifying, and actually gets you thinking about a potential "relationship status change" on facebook. Ultimately, this person is someone you could fall in love with, and each time you fuck, the connection gets deeper... no pun intended. Your bodies move together completely in sync (aka - "NOT choppy") and when the post-coital moment is over, you still want to hang out with this chick, cause' she's pretty fucking cool. Congratulations, you've achieved something pretty spectacular... now don't fuck it up.

Level 4 - HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I'M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU,  MY BRAIN IS EXPLODING WITH ENDORPHINS.

This is what I like to call EPIC SEX. This is the kind of sex that leaves you weak in the knees hours after you've finished. This is the kind of sex that gets you hard just thinking about it. This is the kind of sex that happens ONLY when you're crazy in love with someone, and you both connect with each other in a way you've never connected with another human before. It's more than sex; it becomes a religious experience every time you touch. This is the kind of love that entire albums are dedicated to. This is the kind of connection that movies are made about. This is the sex that we all wish for, hope for, and long for in the deep dark reaches of our loins. If you're having sex like this, hold on tight, and don't fuck it up. If you DO manage to fuck it up, you might as well just kill yourself, because you're never going to get anything better than this... But you knew that already.

 So class, what have we learned today?

1) Be a good kisser. This is the key to everything. One kiss can make it or break it.

2) BE A MAN. Pussy-bitches need not apply... There is nothing that turns a woman off faster, then a guy who can't "throw down the gauntlet" in the bedroom.

3) Tease me... anticipation about fucking, is almost as exciting as the actual FUCKING.

4) Be good at eating vagina. If you're not good at, you better be working on it. If you're one of those guys who "doesn't go down on girls," you should probably just stay at home with your hand and a bottle of Jergens moisturizing lotion.

New words to live by ladies: If he doesn't go down on you, he doesn't get inside of you.

5) JACK-HAMMERING IS NEVER OKAY.  I am not your masturbatory aid, this is supposed to be a mutually gratifying experience. Learn how to use your dick BEFORE you go sticking it in living organisms.

6) The best sex happens when two people aren't just "attracted" to each other, but connected to each other as well. There's no simple way to do this, but just know, that when you do finally end up connecting, everything that comes in and out of that experience will be pretty fucking amazing. 

There are a lot of things I didn't cover here, so if you have something to add, feel free to chime in with your thoughts. I've enabled "anonymous" commenting, so you can bitch and moan about whatever part of this pissed you off, and I will have NO IDEA who you are... unless of course, you sign your name.

The bottom line is, every girl is different, and the only way to figure out EXACTLY what she wants/needs/feels. is to ask her. I know it can be "awkward," or "embarrassing" to talk about sex, but if you're not "too embarrassed" to be fucking, then you shouldn't be "too embarrassed" to ask questions. This is your body, this is your heart; this isn't the 1950's, it's OKAY to tell people what you want, and what you don't.

Honestly. if you can't talk about sex with your partner, then you probably shouldn't be having sex in the first place.

love you meant it.

She ain't nothin' but a Gold Digger...

When I was 16, I convinced myself that all I wanted was a super hot rich husband, a big house, an unlimited monthly clothing allowance, and a fancy car. At 19, I decided that "love was all that mattered." I was desperately in love with my boyfriend, and would have been happy anywhere with him; including living in a cardboard box on the street... in theory of course. Now, at 25, it feels like the continuum has come full circle, and I find myself at a crossroad of the two extremes. Love isn't enough. It's enough for the immediate, passionate affair of the heart, but after the sweat from your forehead has dried, there has to be something else holding it together.

Lauren and I were talking the other day, and both started to whine, "where are the rich older men who want to take care of us?"

Seriously... where are they?

I am officially old enough to accept the fact that I'm not going to marry a super rich guy, who is also stunningly gorgeous, AND has an amazing personality... I'm not going to marry that guy, because "that guy" doesn't actually exist. And if he does, he's gay. Rich, stunning, intelligent, amazing guys are never straight.

Soooo... this really throws a wrench into my ultimate plan. The easiest qualification to throw out right off the bat, would obviously be "stunningly gorgeous." The 16-year-old version of me, would never of even fathomed letting a guy pushing 70 touch her. But the 25-year-old me is sitting at her laptop asking, how much money can I get for said "touching?"

Apparently the older version of myself is a money-grubbing hoe-bag...

But I digress...

I don't think I could ever actually be a "gold digger." While I would LOVE to have absolutely no responsibilities other than looking pretty, and shopping, I know that would get real old, real quick. Tragically, the motivation to accomplish things that are at least marginally meaningful, overpower all delusions of future trophy wife status.

DAMN YOU MORAL COMPASS!

I've been thinking a lot about whores lately, and have come to the realization that, ALL of us are participating in varying degrees of prostitution. Some girls date guys they're not that in to, simply because they buy them lots of presents, or make them feel "special." Some guys date girls they're not particularly excited about, simply because it's a warm body to lay next to and put their penis in. In return, these less than stellar examples of compassionate beings, give their 2nd choice lovers, their bodies, and a fake version of intimacy. All parties involved are using these temporary partners, to get something they want. In essence, selling themselves for physical and emotional compensation.

I've stayed in relationships longer than I should have, because the person I was with would dote on me, and make me feel like a better version of the girl I actually was. Knowing that I was no longer in love with them didn't see to matter to me. I was getting the attention that I wanted, and in return, I would give them my body, and a fake version of my love that they so desperatly wanted.

Sometimes I wonder how many of my friends are prostituting themselves in their relationships? I wonder who is faking the love, and who is giving up their body in return for "attention." I wonder how many of my friends are really "in love," or even know what that means.

Not to be completely cynical, but I can't help but believe on some level, that "whores" are the last honest relationship there is. I mean it's pretty straight forward; you give them money, they give you an orgasm, and a momentary connection to another human that fades as soon as the seamen dries on the inseam of your pants.

At least whores are up front about what they're doing, and why they're doing it. The rest of us however, we're sneaky sluts. Hiding behind these forced "relationships," just so we don't have to be alone. Inside our heads, we develop a "love point" tally, that keeps track of how much you give verses how much get. The points add up, and in the end we deem our failed relationships as having been "worth it," or "worthless." It always comes down to the scorecard...

But there will be a day, when you fall in love again... for the first time, or the fifth time, and all of this will sound like nonsense. You'll dream about their kisses, and convince yourself that it will be different this time... And maybe it will... For you, I hope it will.

The tally will always come back though, and you'll begin to ponder, yet again...

How much is your love worth?

 love you mean it.