Steamy

A friend of mine, Mr. A , after reading the Fabulous Madame M.'s vampire book Nice Girls Don't have Fangs (available for pre-order at here), discovered that romance novels have some pretty hot and racy sex scenes in them. And that he was even more shocked when he was told by his fiance that she read these books in high school. Having discovered the sexy nature of the romance novel at the age of 13, I found it shocking that he did not realize this long before now.
My favorite babysitter growing up spent a large amount of the money she made watching after me and my little sister on Zebra Romances, the big thick books with the rippling muscles and heaving bosoms on the cover. You knew it was a Zebra from the tell-tale holograph sticker on the top right hand corner. You also knew it was a good one if my babysitter sent us to our rooms to play.
She read everywhere, in the car when her parents took her to church, to the country music dances that my dad used to play at and even at the rodeo that our families attended together. "Nose in a book," my mom always commented. If my mom knew what was in these books, her nose would be there as well.
We all knew what was in those soap opera novels. Later on, when I reached a certain age, I devoured them as well. Not only did I read them, but I passed certain passages around to my friends at school.
So, in addition to being surprised that the books were so detailed and steamy, Mr. A. said he felt a huge double standard because not too long ago he had been called a perverted horn-dog for reading Maxim magazine.
What girls have you been hanging out with? The sisters from Pride and Prejudice?
The boys I hung out with were not shy about their fondness for the female form. Finding a Maxim magazine at one of my guy friend's homes was a relief. At least I didn't stumble upon a copy of Lesbian Spank Inferno or find barelylegalfarmgirls.com bookmarked on their computer.
And then I started thinking about it. Which is really worse in created a false idea of the opposite sex: Romance novels or the Penthouse Forum? It is well known that the Penthouse letters are a little more than racy, but primarily due to their use of language. When you get right down to it, the male Penthouse reader's fantasies boil down to women who are willing, open-minded sexually and are hot. And really, the willing and open-minded part is what makes these women especially hot. In those letters they will mention the female participant's enormous "bosom," but might fail to mention her mustache or missing teeth.
However, the romance novel spins a laundry list of qualifications for a man to live up to before the female protagonist finally succumbs to the love-making. The heroes are dashing, well employed (or in some cases millionaires), courageous, have a nice body and are almost always well endowed enough to give the heroine her first "real" orgasm. Maxim, Playboy and the others might depict women as unrealistically hairless and airbrushed, but romance novels set up a scenario that no man (or woman) could possibly ever live up to.
I would like to imagine that my fellow sisters have wised up and noted these books as merely fantasy. That they have figured out a way to be their own knight in shining armor and then I remember that the Twilight movie has brought in $173.6 million worldwide. Oh well.

Oh, to be young and in heat

"You know I don't really like big boobs. I much prefer little ones because when the girl gets older the big ones get all saggy, but the little ones are still right up there."
This is a direct quote.
Now if this had been my friend who had said this, I probably would have way-layed him for being superficial. If he had been a friend's boyfriend, I probably would have said, "You know what I like, a really nice sized cock."
But instead I was out having drinks with my dear friend K. who invited the dreaded Mr. T to join us.
Now everyone knows Mr. T, he's that guy who gets invited out a lot because he is always available, knows where all the decent places are to hang out, and almost always has weed. But in exchange of all those things, you have to listen to him be a tool.
Mr. T is that guy you tolerate because you don't want to disturb the dynamic of the group, and he always gets invited because someone thinks, "he's an alright guy."
Maybe he is an alright guy, but he's also a TOOL.
So Mr. T came out to met us all for drinks because he has a thing for my dear friend K., who God love her, is 23 and has an infuriating positive "I like everyone" attitude toward the world. However, the beauty of having to sit there and listen to innane statements like the one at the top, is being able to culturally observe the cliche pick-up artist at work.
He did every textbook manuver that you read about in Esquire, Maxim and every other male propaganda piece that makes guys feel cool.

Slightly insult her to take her off any pedistol she might be on: "Girl, You've gained some weight." he tells her as she removes her coat. "I mean your not fat, but you've gotten bigger since we saw each other last."

Befriend the running mate: He instantly bonded with the girl who was crashing with K. because if you befriend the friend, then it's a lot easier to ask her to leave for the booty call later.

Bemoans the dating scene: (Especially effective if the girl is from out of town) All the girls who live here are either completely ugly or they are already married. We don't get a lot of good looking girls around here.

Develops a nostalgia: "Don't you remember the last time you were in town you were so smashed you had a pizza order delivered to the bar." This also works to subtly remind the girl that she was probably so drunk not to remember that we could have hooked up that night.

It was all so fascinating, because being out of the dating scene, I haven't seen these ploys at work, and also because when I was in the dating scene, I was usually working my own ploys to get some boy to go home with me. So it was like watching a nature film or science experiment unfold.
The really sad part is before he showed up K. had told me that she was pretty sure he was gay.