Hey, It's Okay!

One of my favourite features in one of my favourite magazines is an often funny, sometimes poignant, frequently bang-on list of little things we all (well, most of us) do that we tend to beat ourselves up over. Call 'em what you will - neuroses, tics, quirks, whatever. The goal of the list? To tell us all that, when it comes to our little peccadilloes, "hey, it's okay!"  Why do I love it so much? Probably because I have a championship belt in beating myself up. But, lately, I've really been trying to give myself a break.

Lately, I've realized it's okay...

...to bake an entire pan of brownies or squares just because you want one, and then pack up the rest to take to work. It's also okay for the size of  "one" brownie or square to be somewhat loosely defined.

...to sort of hate the girls who leave the gym looking all cute and presentable, with nothing more than a slight glow to show for their efforts. I look like I need an ambulance.

...to give "supermodel face" in the mirror when trying to pick new glasses. Everyone knows they look much better when you do that, even if you'll never actually make that face again once you buy them.

...to forego cleaning the basement/putting away the patio furniture/storing your summer clothes, all in favour of a cup of tea and a terrific book.

...to say a completely un-ironic "absolutely" when the barista asks if you'd like whipped cream on that skinny Pumpkin Spice latte you just ordered. I said skinny, not anorexic. Besides, it's a serving of dairy, right?

...to feel resentment every time you settle up at the dry cleaners. I feel like I'm bailing my clothes out.of the drunk tank.

...to choose not to patronize restaurants that haven't spellchecked their menus. What else are they not paying attention to? Besides the spelling of "nacho's"?

...to have one guilty pleasure tv show you are unapologetic about loving. I've said it before - I can't get enough "America's Next Top Model".

...to have one guilty pleasure tv show you couldn't be more embarrassed about if it were German scat porn. You'll always be my dirty little secret, "Vampire Diaries".

...to admit that you'd really just rather stay home on your couch.

...to have incredibly fond memories of people you never want to see again.

...to question the sanity of people who continue to find Adam Sandler funny. Holy fuck - I watched 20 minutes of "Just Go With It" last night, and it was like being felt like sensory deprivation, only the sense I was being deprived of was humour. Thankfully, I tapped out before what I assume was the obligatory Rob Schneider cameo.

...to believe 100% that the scale at the gym is rigged in a diabolical attempt to guilt you into paying a crazy amount of money for personal training. See also...to estimate the weight of your new sneakers as approximately 12 and a half pounds.

...to have two weeks off but not post a thing on your blog. Inspiration, as it turns out, cannot be found in Pumpkin Spice lattes. They should really put that on the sign; I would have saved a lot of money these past two weeks.

I should note, the "hey, it's okay" concept does have limits; it's not a get out of jail free list. For example, stabbing a co-worker in the eye with a fork because the way they pronounce "tomato" makes you crazy is NOT okay.

Thinking about it, however, is perfectly acceptable.

Powdered balls and sex ninjas

It's officially fall. No more summer frivolity, no more sandals. It's time to buckle down and get serious again. Yes, dear readers, that can mean only one thing: the "Cosmo" review is back.

Right off the bat, I'm concerned. "21 Naughty Sex Tips". 21?! What happened to 75? Is it the recession? A downturn in the global smutty index? Or maybe it's worse: maybe they've finally run out of carnal wisdom, and could only muster a final 21 gun salute. Thank fuck, frankly, because trying to remember the 1081 tips over the last year (you know, just in case)  is mentally exhausting. There's no mnemonic for that.

The lovely Minka Kelly is on the cover. Gorgeous girl; god awful new television show. No one loved the original "Charlie's Angels" more than pre-adolescent me, so I wanted to like this one. It's terrible. And I know I shouldn't judge it based on one episode. I'm not. I didn't last the whole episode. I'm judging it based on the first 18 minutes. I lasted twice as long with the second "Lord of the Rings" movie, and I fucking hate Hobbits.

Alright, let's get to those tips, shall we?  Hmm. Apparently, committing these particular tips to memory will make me an official Cosmo Sex Ninja. I'm not making that up. I was concerned at first (I don't have the cheekbones to pull off the mask, nevermind the aim to master a throwing star), then intrigued. This lasted one paragraph. And here's why:

They suggest having sex in your closet. Look, I'm all for making out in your clothes. Just not IN your clothes. First of all, I hate ironing. Secondly, I live in an old house with weirdly shaped closets. And my lack of flexibility combined with dormers just doesn't scream "sex ninja". Plus, there's usually a cat in the closet, and if my winter parka isn't a boner killer, she certainly is.

Sneak a silent quickie in a crowded house. Yeah, not as fun as it sounds. And not as silent as I thought.

This next one had me both shaking my head and rubbing my neck (sympathy kink). They suggest a new twist on that old numerical favourite, the 69. Except he should be standing, and you're sort of upside down, supported by the end of a bed, with him holding you around the waist. So you're sort of in upside down frog position, trying to balance on an unstable surface, with blood rushing to your head. Picture it. I'll wait. Does this sound hot to anybody? Because it sounds to me like a trip to the physiotherapist. I couldn't master a headstand when I took gym, and that was before puberty and my centre of gravity changed, so I sure as hell am not about to attempt a naked one on some poor guy's crotch.

Okay - the next one suggests I "whip out the sex toy hiding in his closet". Turns out they're not talking about a ball gag, so some of you might be on your own for that particular chat; they mean his old skateboard.  Now, I've admitted before I'm not exactly their target demographic, but, for the record, if any guy I date has a skateboard in his closet at this point, becoming a sex ninja will not be my biggest accomplishment. Staying off the sex offender registry will be. They suggest lying facedown on the board and sort of using it as a really rad sex dolly. The only thing gnarly about that would be my knees, afterwards. A couple of things come to mind - first off,  do you know what skateboard wheels would do to my hardwood floors? And second - anyone remember the episode of  "The X-Files" featuring the Peacock family? A homicidally incestuous clan who kept Momma (a multiple amputee) under the bed? On a board with wheels on it?  Until an unfortunate threesome scene on "Californication", the creepiest thing David Duchovny ever appeared in?  So, um, pass.  There were a few other suggestions (role playing, sex in sort of plain view, etc), but I pretty much tapped out when I realized they couldn't guarantee my certification in the use of sex nunchucks.

101 Things about Men. Um, they like boobs. And beer. Do we really need to cover the other 99 things? Kidding - I know guys are a bit more layered than that. Don't understand any of the layers, I think some of them might be unnecessary (like in a Mary Kate Olsen outfit), but that's why I have Cosmo. And apparently 36% of men list patient/nurse as their number one role-play fantasy. Great! Except my mom was a nurse. In a seniors' home. For 40 years. And she loved to tell me stories. So maybe not.

There's a worrisome new manscaping trend on the horizon. Out of a desire to remain fresh as a daisy, dudes are powdering their balls. They actually make powder specifically for this. I'm naturally suspicious, so if I see a guy take a seat and a white pouf of powder rises out of his jeans, I'm going to assume he's a drug mule, not a nut duster. I'm not even sure which is worse - felonious tendencies, or looking like your junk has been doing Kabuki theatre. And gentlemen, please -  if Miss Manners says we ladies shouldn't powder our noses at the table, do I really have to say it?

Let's see - what else? Four words that Seduce Any Man. Any Time. I hardly think this warrants an entire article.  It's four words, right?  They claim it's "I want you now." Thank god, because my old stand-by "Beer? Pizza? Nipple Tassels?" was getting a little stale, and I haven't had much luck with "I have three cats".

Watermelon is apparently a "food that boosts my mood". Specifically, it might lead to toe-curling sex. Ever do that thing in the summer where you scoop a hole in the end of the watermelon and upend a pint of vodka into it? That works, too.

The Cosmo Quiz this month pledges to tell me How Much Game I Have. Let me save you the suspense.  Not much. The only way I could have scored lower would be to not actually take the quiz.

The awfully cute Matt Czuchry, currently of "The Good Wife", formerly of Rory Gilmore's boudoir, tells me that a guy truth he wishes I knew is that men love a funny chick. Sure they do, Matt. They love to have a beer with us, and hang out with us, and maybe even flirt with us. But they don't want to date us. Now, if we could just shove down to make room for the cute, bubbly girl you just met at the bar. She'll read your emails and key your car in about two months' time, but hey, the funny girl will be here to make you laugh about it afterwards. Trust me on this, Matt - if being funny was such a prerequisite for most men, I'd be out eating watermelon and trying to do a naked headstand, not reviewing this month's Cosmo for all you would-be sex ninjas.

Five guys

No, pervs, not like that. One at a time, thank you very much. I'm talking about the five guys many women have dated, or will date. And Colin Farrell regrettably isn't one of them. You'll likely recognize a former paramour or three. And if you don't, just give it time. Because he's coming. You might want to put on your good underwear.

1) The rebounder: you'll probably meet him in a bar, with his buddies, trying to douse the fires of heartbreak with beer. He probably has a vague look of despair, he could be checking his phone incessantly, and he might  be doing shots with a group of college girls. He's forlorn, he's susceptible, and he's got disaster written all over him like an ill-fitting Ed Hardy shirt.  Naturally, you give him your number.

Here's the thing with the rebounder: it doesn't matter how great a girl you are. It doesn't matter if he swears he's over the break up. He is not. It will not last with him. But if you truly want a casual thing with someone who might burst into tears during sex, have at it. But DO NOT FALL FOR HIM. Soothe his wounds. Make him believe in girls again. And leave him better than when you found him, like a campsite, only with a nice ass. If you don't, you'll need a rebound guy to get over the rebounder, and do you remember from gym class how hard it is to get off a trampoline? Well, it'll be like that, only emotionally, and with penises.

2) The impossibly good looking one. Sigh. He often shows up in our 20s. He may be slightly younger. It's hard to catch a breath around him because every time you open your mouth, you're overcome by a desire to lick him. The first time he takes his shirt off, you'll probably praise Jesus.

If you manage to end up with one of the ones who "just doesn't know how good looking he is", let me stop you right there. Yes, he does. But it's still awesome, mostly. You do, however, need a couple things: a healthy sense of self-esteem, and an ability not to cut a bitch when she literally eye-fucks him in front of you.
There are times you'll be out, and you'll notice other women noticing him, and you'll think you're the cat's ass, because you're with him. There are other times you'll be out, and you'll notice other women noticing him, only you're having a fat/bad hair/PMS day, and you'll be convinced he's involved in some sort of community outreach program where he gives back by making out with the less genetically fortunate. He'll likely break your heart, and he may give you a complex, but he'll look awesome on your couch.

3) The Perfect, but... guy:  on paper, and according to your friends, he's perfect for you.  Perfect! But...something is missing. It's usually heat. Or excitement. Or any sense whatsoever that he'll surprise you. Ever. I don't believe in one perfect match for someone. I believe in timing, and luck, and chemistry, and taking a chance. Granted, I also used to believe in the Tooth Fairy and George Michael's heterosexuality, so I may not be the best judge on this one. 

4) The bad boy: I almost didn't include him because it's such a cliche, and because many of us have checked the bad boy off our dance card by the time we're old enough to buy beer. But bad is sort of a sliding scale. What I consider bad you might consider quirky. And what I considered bad at 23 versus what I consider bad now is pretty different. For some, bad is a motorcycle jacket and tattoos. For others, it's no discernible means of income and a reluctance to give you his phone number. Or his last name. My younger self liked the long of hair, short on integrity type. You might define bad as him not pressing his khakis. Who the fuck are you and why are you reading this?  Anyway, these days, I like my bad to largely be confined to not always eating enough leafy greens and occasionally paying the phone bill late. The tattoos can stay, though.

5) The Committment-phobe: I know, I know. We've all been there. But I'm not talking about your garden variety phobe, your not sure if he wants to get married and have kids just yet guy. That's normal. I’m talking about can’t make plans for Friday before Thursday night, and even then they’re tentative "just in case". Just in case what, jackass? You meet someone else? This guy can’t commit to anything beyond a blow job, and  even then he doesn’t have to decide right now, does he?  And don’t ask him if he likes it, because talking about his feelings makes him uneasy.

I know what you're thinking - there's way more than five! Some honourable mentions?

The Mama's boy: Everyone has their own personal limit. Mine is somewhere south of cutting up my date's meat for him.

The Basement slacker: Granted, he's pretty laid back, usually has a cool collection of ironically hip t-shirts, and always has good weed. So if Doritos and Call of Duty 4 get you hot, yay you!

 I Might be Gay guy: He will tell you if your ass looks fat in those pants, but he'll also have really good eye cream at his house if you end up staying over. Just to cuddle.

The Fixer-upper:  He's great, if only... I've heard about this guy a bunch, but I don't get it. I know some women like a good boyfriend-improvement project, but shouldn't you be attracted to someone because of who they are, not who you think they maybe could be, if only they changed a few little things? Not for me. Deal with who he is, or don't date him.  Besides, I've owned my house for three years and still haven't managed to paint the 50 square feet of my spare room, so renovating a guy seems unlikely. And really - would you want someone to think of you as a fixer-upper? Didn't think so.

And gentlemen, I know this isn't just limited to guys. I'm sure there's an ample list of girl-types out there,  and I'm betting Daddy's girls and Hot but Crazy make the cut. Just do me a favour - if Witty and Bitchy with Decent Boobs makes the top five, can someone let me know?