As if summer wasn’t sexy enough, here is a list of fresh foods to boost your sex drive this season, and beyond … …Read More →
I was hanging at a dude friend’s place last week with a few other friends, mostly dudes. As it usually does, the topic eventually turned to sex, and one of my friends started telling this story about a girl he slept with a few years ago. Midway through the story, another (male) friend turned and said “oh is this about Turkey Sandwich?”
Then everybody laughed. Except me, because I didn’t know what the hell that meant.
Let me preface this with the fact that these male friends of mine are not douchey beer can crushing frat boys. They are nice and genuine, and until this exact moment I had never witnessed anything appalling about the way they treat, speak to or speak about women. Nothing they had ever said or done before had ever fired off my misogynistic flare gun.
Back to the story.
“Turkey sandwich? Why do you call her turkey sandwich?” I asked.
I was hoping for some tale about how every time they would have have sex, she would make him a really great turkey sandwich after. Or maybe they met while he was working at a Blimpie and he always knew her order was a turkey sandwich? Extra olives?
My friend, let’s call him Jim Bob, went to explain that this girl had hooked up with one of his friends years before the two of them one-night-standed. “Okay, and…” I pressed.
Jim Bob responded, “well what do you do with leftover turkey after thanksgiving?”
“I don’t fucking know, I’m vegan,” I said. Just kidding, I didn’t say that. I stared at him blankly.
“You make a turkey sandwich,” he punch-lined.
Me and the one other girl in the room proceeded to projectile vomit on Jim Bob’s head. Just kidding, but I wish we did.
“Wait wait, let me get this straight,” I said. “This girl did nothing wrong other than deem you worthy of having sex with, but because she also had sex with one of your friends you’re labeling her a left-over?”
I was all kinds of horrified, because this was a 28-year-old male, who up until that point had always showcased logic, reason, compassion, decent judgement and good taste in whiskey. This wasn’t some punk-ass college frat boy or anyone with an unmanageable ego. Jim Bob had always seemed like a sweet guy!
Worse, the other guys in the room didn’t seem to be disturbed by this. They went on to discuss other nicknames given to girls they have slept with – Closet Monster, because they had sex in a closet, was one of the more memorable ones. Not Closet Girl, or girl-I-fucked-in-a-closet, both which would have been much much more respectable and less derogatory. Closet Monster. Monster!?! The names Jim Bob and Co. were choosing placed all of this undeserved shame on the girls they slept with, like they were some dirty, dishonorable creatures for choosing to have sex with the people now talking shit…I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Now let me clear the record: in college, my roommates and I came up with nicknames for the guys we slept with or wanted to sleep with. We did it because we went to a tiny, tiny college and if we wanted to talk about the guys we were crushing on without everyone on campus finding out, we had to do it in code. (Much like how I just changed my friend’s name to Jim Bob so I could bitch about him on the Internet.) So we had names like Roman God, for the dude who was so painfully beautiful he appeared to be from another time. Or Niney, because of his blessed endowment. Or Shakespeare Lit, because we met in—you guessed it—Shakespeare Lit. If a guy became a steady hook-up or a boyfriend, the nick names fell away and they simply became “Pete.”
In college, we never meant anything derogatory by nicknaming the guys, but after my half heart attack at Jim Bob, I could see how it could come off that way. While most of our nicknames were positive (Niney was a legend), and we never ever tacked on a word like “Monster” or referred to them as cold lunch meat jammed between two slices of bread, we were boiling down a human being into a nickname that barely begins to encompass their entire person. So I would like to take a moment to apologize to them all. Sorry Roman, Niney, Shakespeare, Snake Wrangler and Geometry Todd. I never meant to offend you, I just wanted to talk about you at brunch without being overheard by the entire Lacrosse team.
So, I lectured Jim Bob good and hard that day. The other female in the room did as well. Later, I grilled my boyfriend to see if he had derogatory nicknames for his former conquests. He swore no, but I was already drumming up nightmares of him sitting around with his old college roomies, hitting the bong and telling stories about Areola Alice. Okay that one isn’t very good, but I just can’t think of any more shameful names right now…
Do you make up nicknames for the people you’ve slept with? Did you used to? Do you think it’s okay as long as they aren’t shaming, belittling nicknames? Would you have been horrified if you overheard your friends talking like this?
Let’s all grow up and start calling the people we sleep with by their names. Like Beatrice. That’s a nice name, isn’t it?
For more Lusty Vegan, check out The Lusty Vegan book, available on Amazon.Read More →
I’ve been wanting to tackle this subject for quite some time now; it’s a running joke in the vegan community that vegans “taste better.” Funny as it may be, it’s also founded on truth. The healthier you eat, the better you feel, look, taste, and smell. Now mind you that vegan is not synonymous with healthy, but if you’re eating a plant-based diet rich in whole grains, legumes, and veggies, and limiting processed foods and artificial fillers, then you’re on the right track. …Read More →
So here’s a weird confession: Ever since I adopted a dog back in December, my sex life has been dwindling. Since my manslice and I live in a studio space, our pup is within an arm’s reach at all times. We started off sleeping him in a crate, and there’s nothing sexy about doing—well, anything–while a melody of soft whimpers runs continuously in the background. Not exactly mood music. So sex was stalled out temporarily.
We figured as he got older, the pup would mellow out a bit, which did happen. Now that he can snooze through the night, he has graduated to the floor, and he sleeps pretty soundly—until any hint of activity reaches his (adorable) ear-range.
We tried to ignore him for a while, but ever since the awkward time he started gently tonguing my foot while I held down bottom, well, sex has been infrequent. Or silent. Or hurried. It feels like high school. We’re stealing away to fellate in the bathroom or having hushed, rushed, bottom lip biting sessions because our parents are sleeping down the hall. Except it’s not our parents, it’s our dog. …Read More →
There really is no winning recipe for “good” sex. Everyone likes it a little bit different, and when we put two—or more!– people together in a sexual situation, well they’re going to have to work together to figure out what does it. Hm, what’s that, oh you’re not into forniphilia? But I do such a great impression of a dresser… …Read More →
A lagging sex life is the number one signal that something is awry in a relationship, followed by the urge to punch a hole in the wall if you have to watch your partner chew with their mouth open for one.more.second. Okay, the second issue just means you’re spending too much time together. But the first—the mysterious vanishing of your sex life—is a real red flag.
When you cease to want to fuggle your partner, it’s often a symptom of a larger issue that needs to be addressed. You know how it feels: You still think they’re attractive, but you’re not really all that attracted to them anymore…
Summer is over, and fall is here. The change of season can make you a little wonky; You’re just getting into that summertime routine and then BAM, days are short again and you need a jacket. When your schedule is out of whack, you may not be making the healthiest of choices, and your sex drive may suffer for it. Below are a handful of health-don’t’s guaranteed to stall that “it’s chilly so let’s build a fire…a pants fire” feeling. …Read More →
Your first year of college is an amazing time of life. It’s a period of growth. It’s also a hard time, and a messy time. You’re trying to find your footing somewhere new, you’re trying to make new friends, find a good fit for yourself – you’re redefining many of the things that make you, “you.” It’s going to be awkward, sloppy, hilarious, exciting, and nerve wracking. And, thanks to new freedom, an abundant number of the single and willing partners, and the comfort of dorm rooms, it may be the first time in your life you have the freedom to explore your sexuality. No more awkward car handies for you! …Read More →