Reservations...

I've seen too often, that people will waste their time waiting for someone to meet them at a point in a relationship, when that person has shown no progress for getting there. There's nothing wrong with having faith, but there comes a time where you're going to have to check your history and figure out whether or not you need to pick up that "Reserved" sign from the table. I've been guilty of asking for someone to give me time to get to a point where I felt ready, but do I really deserve it? No.
That's because I don't believe in "Soul Mates" or "the One." Six billion people. There are Six Billion people on planet Earth. People have found their wives and husbands overseas, in other countries and continents, or right next door, and have found something in those people that they never even knew they wanted.
That's all to say that sometimes, you can give up on a relationship if it's not going in the direction you want it to. Most of you are decent people and deserve a little happiness, and most of the time, if you're waiting around for someone to get their shit together, you definitely deserve better.
But that's not where it stops. What if you're in a relationship with someone who deliberately refuses to do something that would make you happy? What if you want your chair pulled out, and your doors opened for you? What if you like to cuddle up, and getting random kisses to show a little appreciation for you? Or even if you're a gift gal? You like to get physical tokens of love and appreciation, whether it be jewelry or an origami swan from a Panda Express napkin.
If someone knows what you want or need to be happy, but still can't or won't give it to you, there's no reason for you to wait around for them to change their mind, because for whatever it is you do for them, there's someone out there willing to make you happy being exactly who you are.
If you're the type of person who treats people like they owe you something, life is going to disappoint you. It's like any job. Sometimes people are willing and ready to invest in you, completely, but telling them to hold off and wait for you is selfish. If someone is willing to do the work that you're not, for the same amount of pay, do you genuinely think you still have a claim to that job? I'll give you a hint...

You're getting warmer...

You can't hope that someone is just going to blindly invest in you because you want them to, with a promise that it might pay off later, when you're ready. They deserve to find someone else. And when they do, bite your tongue and suck it up. Either get better, or get used to being alone.

False Sense of Equality... Pt. 2- Self Destruction

You know what the worst part about being black is? I'll give you a hint, it isn't the people with the resources and power telling you that you won't make it unless you either entertain them, or fight for them. It's the people without anything, the people just like you, telling you that you're not supposed to make it.
I grew up in an all black neighborhood from ages 1 to 12. Music videos and movies told me that I was supposed to hate white people. I didn't see why. I saw white people outside walking around, I saw them on Friends and Power Rangers and they couldn't have been cooler. Every day I went outside, it wasn't the white man burning cars or shooting people on the corner over dime bags. The police officers were never mean to me when they arrived. Because I never ran when I saw them. My friends would run because that's what they were taught. And they would get chased. I was once stopped by an officer during one of these incidences, and he asked me why my friends were running. I told him "I didn't know, I think that's what people tell them they're supposed to do. Have a nice night, officer." and I walked away. That was it. He didn't follow. He didn't chase. He didn't ask more questions.
I spent most of my life believing that if I just distanced myself from the stereotypes, I wouldn't have to deal with them. But the further I thought I got, the worse I found things got for me. I no longer fit in with black people from where I was from. I didn't listen to the same music, or do the same things. I didn't fit in with the white kids because... I was black. And when I talked, people would ask me "Why do you talk white?" And trying not to flip out on somebody for asking a question like that became something I got used to doing. I didn't get better, because it didn't get easier, but I did get used to doing it.

Oreo. 

Twinkie. 

Coconut.

You think Neil ever had to put up with this shit?

It became evident to me that humans tend to have two things clogging up our general progress pipeline. The fear of the unknown, and group/pack mentality. Learning is hard. Work is hard. The easy thing to do is to sit back and enjoy the moment where you know you have the upper hand. As opposed to working like those people who you assume have this natural ability to learn better than you. Change is hard, so instead of change, blaming the "white man" is easier than taking stock in your own actions and fighting against a system that's already rigged against you. I get it. I do. But I've seen intelligent people go down the road of the not-so-intelligent people just because it was the cool thing at the time. They were too afraid to pave their own way. 

There are a lot of things working against underprivileged minorities. The most damaging of all, being the people they call family and friend.

Politics...

I think that the worst thing to happen to the United States was the invention of political parties. In reality, it's not about uniting people. It's about dividing people into neat little groups. There's nothing people love more than hating something... well, more than being right. When you get a bunch of people together and tell them they're right about everything and that anyone who opposes their ideas or ideals, is completely and utterly wrong about everything and are the enemy, you have everything you need to rally dedicated group of supporters. It worked before...

"Comic Book Conventions?"

And it's working again. Political parties, like any intelligent enemy, has divided us up to pick us off, but instead of killing us, they herded us. The interest of the American citizen has been lost for some time now to the whims of those who control the Political parties. And I'll tell you immediately, it's not the voters. Whenever something happens, the news presents the story in a format with panels and "experts" on the topic. But you're not offered, in any way, an unbiased and purely informative view on the topic. You're given what you want, or what they want you to want. You watch MSNBC or Fox News because you prefer it. It's not because you're offered more information or options, it's because you enjoy being told you're right and everyone else is wrong. But what about hearing the other side of things? If you know your News is biased and has an agenda, why wouldn't you search for information and the opportunity to know both sides of the story? You know that your news station isn't giving it to you. 

I've tried for some time to stay out of political issues, but the more I open my eyes to everything around me, the more compelled I am to do what I can to intervene. I can't do much besides write blogs and vote. I don't have much to say here without getting into the specifics of different views and opinions, but I will say this: If at the first sign of disagreement, you scoff at how "idiotic" someone could be, instead of actually trying to learn something new, you might want to check that idiot list, and check it twice...

The Friendzoned Asshole...

So you've been placed in the infamous and dreaded "Friendzone." No fate is more painful than listening to the girl of your dreams complain about how her (much hotter than you) boyfriend is being an asshole, (as usual, am I right?) and then giving her honest, genuine advice to mend her relationship, because there's nothing more awesome than a guy who only wants to see her happy.
But you know what? The reality of it is, that ^^^  guy is an asshole. Not the boyfriend who's acting like an asshole. The friend who's being an asshole. Has that ever been you? Ever found yourself in the Friendzone? I have. And for years, I thought it was the fault of all of those women out there who seemed to be oblivious to the nice guy who bent over backwards to make her smile, and chose, instead, the "assholes" out there who couldn't help but treat her in a manner that couldn't match my dedication in a million years. And nothing was more crushing than the moment you reveal your feelings and she says those fateful words: "You're like a brother to me."
Such bullshit, right? Wrong. You were an asshole. I was an asshole. Every guy who's ever registered himself in the Friendzone database is an asshole. The problem isn't being nice and expecting her to suddenly see you as a romantic figure, or some kind of sex symbol. It's being nice and pretending you don't want her to see you as a romantic sex figure. The reason women tend to go for the "asshole" is because the asshole is the only one being honest about wanting to harpoon her through the genitals, while you're busy backing up to arms-length and pretending to care about what the hell she and Ashley were gossiping about concerning Brittany being a lesbian. You were so asexual in approaching her you were basically a talking Ken doll. Or Barbie, because she might actually think about being with a guy like Ken.

She's going to come to you for advice on how to make this work. 

And you're going to give it to her.

Most people talk down on friendzoned guys because they say you shouldn't assume you're entitled to sex for being nice. I only partly agree. I think being nice does help you in your vaginal quest, but if you've spent all this time trying to convince a woman that that's not what you want, because you're not an asshole, then what the hell do you expect her to see you as? You have to be a contender. If you didn't even write your name in when the competition started, don't be surprised when she's asking you to get some gatorade and a towel for the guy who's actually playing for the Championship (thanks to your advice, of course. You are such a good friend.)
So what do you do when you've lied and deceived your way out of a woman's panties and into her "I feel comfortable changing clothes around you because I don't see you like that" zone? Well stop being a liar, for one. Go do something, anything else with your time. If it doesn't involve you bending over backwards for a girl who isn't yours, then you're doing it wrong. Because, congratulations, my friend, you've officially lied yourself out of a future with her. Much like all of those "assholes" she was dating before. But they at least got laid first.
I don't want you to think that I'm telling you to go out and try and get into any girls' panties as your one and only intention. I'm telling you to be up front about how you feel from DAY ONE. If you think she's the most beautiful thing in the world, tell her now, and don't wait until you've "built trust" or whatever other creepy phrase might be involved in some kind of Nazi infiltration movie. Let her know how you feel. And if she doesn't feel the same way, you can continue communication, but don't let her forget that you're in this to win it. (But don't be creepy. No means no. There are other beautiful women in the world. I promise.) If she does forget, the Zone will be waiting for you. And good luck getting back out.

"Home, where I learned the truth about despair, as will you. There's a reason why this prison is the worst hell on earth... Hope. Every man who has ventured here over the centuries has looked up to the light and imagined climbing to freedom. So easy... So simple... And like shipwrecked men turning to sea water from uncontrollable thirst, many have died trying." -Bane, The Dark Knight Rises

The Perfect Match...

You ever wonder what your perfect match would be? Dominant or submissive? Good looking or ugly? Rich or Poor? A mirror image or a polar Opposite? I've been through plenty of articles and so-called relationship "advice" columns, and I've never seen one give a true answer about finding you a "soul mate."
I've seen it said that you need to find someone with similar interests, and I've heard it a million times "Opposites attract." Even those completely different view points fail to cover the actual reality of being a match made in heaven. The truth is, the important thing when it comes to hobbies, likes, and dislikes, is that the person you're with accepts them. They don't have to adopt them, they don't have to like them, they literally have to be okay with them. And not everything. Just the big stuff. For example, I'm all about comic book related cartoons and movies. I'm also into weightlifting, and fitness, and music. But what's important is that the girl I find myself with is okay with me and my comic book nerd-life. Everything else is second fiddle and can be put off. But you go telling me we need to see The Notebook 2 instead of Batman: Darkest Knight Rises to Begin this Dawn 3, and I'm just going to recommend you go ahead and reopen that Match.com profile and get those tickets for 1.
People who think that their soul mate has to be some kind of sexually attractive doppelganger, are missing out on the best parts of dating. You have the opportunity to intimately know a complete stranger and everything about them. The best times I've ever had dating were finding out that a person who, on the surface was COMPLETELY different from me shared so many little interests with me. Wasn't good or bad, and sometimes it helped the relationships, and other times it didn't. But it was the adventure of getting to know someone new and different and broadening my horizons to find out things I never knew about myself. And them, as a person, their mannerisms, personality, and every day character traits drew me closer to them. Not our mutual love for rock collection and organization.
And when it comes to the whole opposites attract scenario... I don't know. I'm a fairly intelligent and open minded person, so my opposite is basically...

Nah, I think I'll just jerk it.

Not saying that the opposites attract theory of operations can't work. I'm just saying that the number of relationships that I've seen where the couple's complete lack of compatibility was justified only with that bullshit phrase is TOO DAMN HIGH! (I'm not really that passionate about the subject. Not capslock passionate, anyway.) The truth of the matter is the opposites attract theory only works if it's something neither person actually notices until someone else brings it up. It's not something you say when you notice that literally everything your partner does outside of the bedroom makes you want to murder them with a shovel put them in a wood chipper, and feed them slowly to your sea turtles.

The worst thing I've noticed about people looking for that perfect match is that they piece together this image of some girl with medium breasts, a slim waist, and a big butt, with brown hair and green eyes, half Italian and half German, 5'7" tall, who cooks cleans, and dreams about being the first grandmother on Mars. That's how you get hung up on the wrong things, and end up with the wrong person for the wrong reason. The only thing you should bring from your past experiences are what you don't like, because you never know what amazing things you're missing out on when you limit yourself to the same types of people for the rest of your life. The world outside of your bubble is actually pretty amazing.

Conspiracy Theorist...

There's been the weirdest trend in media in American movies. The simple premise: Government is bad, m'kay? I've noticed this in a number of movies, but basically to narrow it down, any American made movie that involves an explosion. To narrow it down even more, let me name a few for you. The "Bourne" franchise, The "Hulk" (both movies), "Avengers", "Captain America: Winter Soldier", all of the "Mission: Impossible" movies, "Die Hard" franchise, the new "Godzilla", and every buddy cop movie ever created ("You're off the case!") Any time you see a "General" in a fictional movie, he's not listening to reason, and always ready to explodificate everything despite all of the "experts" pleas and their "so-called facts".
Then you have your appearances from senators and congressman or whatever, who's role is usually to bring in that "nuke it all" General to force the "expert"into some kind of corner and add unnecessary tension to the plot. Even in movies where the hero actually works for the government, (Captain America: WS; Avengers; Mission: Impossible) the government still turns on the hero, doesn't listen to the advice of their ESTABLISHED employees or agents, they just want to nuke everything.
What's interesting to me is that whenever you see a military movie "based on real events", you see a level headed leader deferring to the experience and expertise of his subordinates, or in laymen's terms, making logical and thought out decisions to preserve as many lives as possible while getting his men back alive. If the movies were to be believed, the same man would just as soon send one of his men in with a bomb surgically implanted into his spine and an irreversible timer counting down.
Why such a big difference between the "based in reality" and the fantasy?
What really caught my attention on the subject wasn't exactly American movies. There's a British made movie coming out called "Kingsmen: The Secret Service" and it just adds to the number of British movies I've seen based on people working for Her Majesty. Of course the most notable being the long running James Bond Franchise. In the new Kingsmen trailer, the bad guys are... bad guys. Terrorists... No moles in the government, no evil doppelganger Queen or Prime Minister, just good old fashioned Government protecting it's citizens.
Why is that? We watch James Bond movies in America, and it actually does pretty well in the Box office, as good as any American made secret Agent flick, but our version, Mission: Impossible, literally every movie in the franchise involved someone inside of his own agency forcing  him to go rogue and tear apart his entire organization to clear his name. In every. Single. Movie.
Some people say it's because it's what the American people want, but I wonder why we still line up to see those "based on true events" movies, or every Bond movie that comes out? In reality it's not about what the people want, but what the people have access to. If you want to watch some secret agent guy go kick ass on the big screen, if he's American, the first thing established will probably be that he's an EX-secret agent, and the second thing will probably be he got out because of some mission where his boss told him to punt a room full of babies into an active volcano and he wouldn't do it.

"They're a threat to National Security!"

If not, get ready for that unofficial "The Notebook" sequel you've been dying for.
Seems more like it's what the writers want. To insert their personal political views into every bit of their work. It annoys me, as a soldier to see the military always portrayed as the "we need to turn everything into a weapon" or "nuke it all" mentality. I'll tell you what happens when someone is found to have an extraordinary ability. They are NOT kidnapped and throne in a cell somewhere to be experimented on. They are paid (very well) by DARPA (the people who brought you most of the technology for synthetic limbs, microwaves, GPS, the technology for Siri and Google Now, the INTERNET and even Internet Privacy) to do, yes, performance tests, blood tests and probably stress tests depending on the results, but there will be no cells or attempts at immediately weaponizing something that isn't even understood yet. That's not how this works. We're not a legion of brainless drones ready, willing, and even hoping to destroy things.
With the media having such a strong influence over the mindset of the people, what does this mean for us?

False Sense of Equality...

Race (being black isn't the greatest thing in America)

Apparently, my brain won't let me get a good night's rest unless I write something about this subject (no matter how much masturbation is involved). This subject is, as of late, one of the hottest and most controversial topics in the country and has spread to most parts of the civilized world.

I've spent my entire life listening to people tell me that I'm "not black" because I don't fit into stereotypes of what... I'm supposed to be? The weird thing about being told that, is that it's either meant as a compliment or an insult. The reasons often vary, from the fact that I pronunciate most of the words I say the way that I read them (so I don't have a "hood" accent most of the time) to the fact that I like books.... okay, comic books over sports. I don't know what the color of my skin has to do with enjoying the art of the printed word, but apparently it's a big factor.

Coming up, I noticed how white people looked at me with a verdict already in mind about me, and I longed for them to understand me. My friends in the hood saw the enemy because that's what we were taught. The white man was the cop, the white man was the judge, the white man was the boss who fired you, and more often than that, the boss who wouldn't hire you in the first place.

And as I got older, I came to grips with that, but knew that if I just brushed off all of the racist undertones and forced myself as an individual onto the people around me, they would have to see me as a PERSON and not "Just another". I dreaded that title.

JUST ANOTHER

Just another poor black kid, just another criminal, just another charity case, just another lost cause.

But beyond all of that, I had no idea how much was really working against me. I had sized up the poverty, and had a plan to beat it. I had sized up the peer pressure, and figured, no sweat. I had sized up the stereotyping I would endure and saw how to get around it. But I didn't factor in all of the reality of the "System" bearing down on every single person who wants something different for themselves.

Here's the truth about why black Americans still need help. Why black Americans are still targets, and still need protection.

Years ago, the ACTUAL government introduced a highly addictive, highly destructive drug into black neighborhoods. Crack cocaine. The first men to cry "conspiracy" were silenced, as they often are, and crack cocaine became, and maintained as an epidemic in black communities. in 1986, the Iran-Contra Affair came to light, showing 

Even further back than that, plans were laid to ensure that plans to target black Americans would be made much easier by having them in close proximity to one another. So plans were made to ensure that blacks would have a hard time getting out of the neighborhoods they were in, with real estate agents EVEN TODAY still making it harder for black Americans to move into predominantly white neighborhoods. The neighborhood options that were available being poverty and crime stricken with poorly supported school systems, resulting in more poorly educated black American youth. This meant that even when presented with the opportunity to compete, black youths come up short, in the fact that their education just wasn't there.

After black Americans were concentrated and their neighborhoods ravaged by crack addiction, the penalty for possession of crack was raised exponentially, meaning more people in jail for less of an amount of the drug. This obviously means more black Americans in prisons. And the news covers it all.

Poorer neighborhoods naturally see more crime, and through decades of media white-washing  and general "black people are lesser human beings than whites" air about things, that still has a strong influence in Hollywood and almost all forms of media.

I'm sure this obvious Egyptian man wouldn't know anything about that.

I'm not going to give you a 100% run down of how hard the government has fought to screw over so much of its own population, but I mean, should they care that much? According to the 2012 census, white people are still over 71% of the ENTIRE American population. 

But coming up as a black kid who wanted to do nothing but be a hero, and seeing, everywhere I went, consciously or subconsciously, people were always going to see me as JUST ANOTHER wasn't exactly the greatest encouragement to do the right thing. Especially when everything I see on TV depicting a black person either has them as a side kick only around to help some white guy achieve his goal and get his girl, or waving guns around and pouring champagne down some girls' asses, you really start to wonder if going into Wendy's for that follow up appointment is even worth it...  

Letting go...

I've had some great days. Through the years, I've collected my fair share of "men only" stories, to be shared exclusively during "guy talk." This is a time when the fellas come together and share stories about their past and experiences with various women, and action movies, and pants. And if you're a woman who's had sex with one of those guys, there's a very large chance that you're one of the women being talked about. Rarely, a guy might attach a name to the story of vaginal conquest, but in most cases, guys tend to keep names out of it for the sake of keeping their "Magic Number" fairly difficult to guess. It's all we have left, now that the days of pillaging and plundering have unfortunately come to an end. The best "war" stories some of us have to share end up being about the battle of the erection and the Fireball shots.

I said all of this to say, for some of us, it's time to let go of the past. Many of us treat the stories as just stories; things that happened in the past that were nice, once. But others tend to hold on just a little too tight to those glory days, hoarding pictures, videos, and mementos through the years like trophies, of times that will never come again. Then, it's time to move someone else into your life, but there are 10 years worth of old news cluttering up your time and space. At some point, you have to let it fade into the memory of what used to be. You won't forget that one day you managed to get those Vietnamese twins to go back with you to your hotel room and dress you up like slave girl Leia while they screamed things about midichlorians and Carbonite. No one would forget that. But you don't need to keep the red dildo you used for a lightsaber stashed away in a tin box in hopes that you can tell your grand children about all of the women that could have been their Nana.

We spend a lot of our time pining for the days long gone, 90s cartoons, Christmas mornings and when "gangsters" used to dress in suits:

 instead of baggy sagging jeans:

or tight, sagging jeans, for some reason:

When, honestly... Al Capone was a murderer... and a human trafficker... and overall syphilis ridden criminal. Looking back, he didn't kill our direct family members, so it's easy to idolize him, right? Honestly I don't much care about the dress code of my murderers. It's just fun to think that the olden days were times of pure joy and innocence, when in fact we may have a better life sitting right in front of us. Too many of us forget that. 

If you never really let go of the past and escape the nostalgic dreamscape, you'll never be able to move forward.

The Smell of Desperation...

You ever notice how when you're in a relationship, women tend to be more attracted to you, even though they don't know you're taken? But when you're single, they stay away like someone sprayed you with a can of "OFF! Celibacy Edition"? Or like your girlfriend sprayed you in the neck with her pheromones to mark her territory, but it seems to have the opposite of the desired effect? Well, I'm going to tell you why that is, dear reader. And hopefully open your eyes to the truth, despite the fact that there's nothing you can do to use it to your advantage whether you know it or not.
The reason for this sudden change in behavior from women isn't because they see you differently, it's because you are different. The truth is, when you're in a relationship (a moderately happy one, at least) you're a different person. When your lady makes you happy, your behavior changes subtly into the behavior of a more attractive person. You act differently around women because you're no longer wondering in the back of your mind if she's hitting on you, or if you should try and get her number, or if she has a boyfriend. You stand up taller, you're happier because you're not going back to your lonely man cave alone to wonder if you missed out on asking that pretty cashier lady out, or maybe you'll ask her out tomorrow. But she probably has a boyfriend. Whatever. She wasn't that cute anyway.
You may have heard this once or twice, but women love confidence. Not cockiness, but confidence. Sure there are some special cases where they can't get enough of your self-loathing and doubt, but the safe bet is usually in the opposite direction.
The reality of it is, you're never more confident than when you already have a good woman in your corner. You go from this:

to this:

...overnight. 

Now I know this sounds like a catch 22. You need a fish to catch a fish and you can't catch any fish because you have no fish.
Fish.
But it only is if you let it be. If you're having problems finding a girl because of confidence, that's an in-house issue. You need to embrace the good parts about yourself and go ahead and show them off. Build your own confidence.
And if you finally found a girl who can be there for you when you're at your best and your worst, then you don't have any reason to even worry about those women out there that only notice you at your best. And if she's the reason that you're at your best, then she's probably worth keeping around.

Shallow...

I'm not shallow. You're just ugly. 

I've talked on here before about standards. Everyone is entitled to them, and I, personally have no problem with them. A lot of people who may happen to be on the lower end of the 10-rating scale often complain about how the person they're obsessing over is "shallow" and only goes after physically attractive people who constantly hurt and disappoint them. Maybe they should try the other side? I found myself guilty of this misguided theory when I was younger, but I realized that honestly, it got me nowhere. It was just an excuse to blame someone else for my personal problems.

"But, Sonata, it sounds like you're blaming the victim here," you say. "Being shallow is bad."

To which I reply, then don't be shallow. If you were to rewind things a little for some of those attractive people, you'll notice one thing about that person that they're pining over. That person will be attractive. It's basically you asking someone else to do something that you yourself aren't willing to do. If what they need in their lives are people with gorgeous faces, chiseled abs, and plump, but tight buns, so be it. They're shallow. Pining over a shallow person and being upset when you find out they're not just going to stop being shallow over night gets you nowhere. What you need to do is get your head out of the head cheerleader's ass, and start chasing some mathletes.

There is nothing wrong with having physical standards, unless those physical standards bring you nothing but loneliness. If your standards are so high that you're always alone because you can't find a woman who treats you like your mom and looks like the girl next door, then maybe it's time to adjust fire and reevaluate some of your life decisions. But, just because you're physically attracted to one type of person or another doesn't mean you're shallow and embody everything bad in the world. Physical features are all we have to go on, most of the time, when deciding to pursue someone. If that person doesn't meet your standards, it's fine to go ahead and throw them on the back-up roster until your desperation to find someone rises in direct proportion to your standards falling and somehow, that chubby chick who you talked to just to wingman for your friend starts to look a lot slimmer.

   ---Desperation

---Standards

Being able to enjoy looking at the person that you spend most of your time with is a pretty big deal. So if you don't care, what your partner looks like, that's awesome for you, you are the next level of human evolution. But if someone does care, and they just can't get with the whole, viper-fish teeth thing, then don't make them out to be the monster for having standards. 

"Once I get these braces, she'll see me for the nice guy that I really am."

Old Hoes...

Why can't a man be a slut?

This is a question that I've been asked by women as we debate the concept of male and female equality. But that's not what I'm going to talk about today. I will answer the question though,

"A man can't be a slut because you won't call him one." 

I personally don't think anyone should take the word slut to offense. It means, according to my opinion, (the only one that matters) that you're a person who not only enjoys sex, but have no problem sharing that with someone else. In our modern, highly secular (increasingly non-religious) generation, it's kind of insane that women still get looked at as if they have less value for having as many sex partners as a man would. 

I've met a good amount of sluts in my day, some I've spent a night with, some that I haven't. They're usually some of the coolest women you could talk to. They're not afraid to talk about the more mature things, they're not kidding themselves or anyone else, and they're always ready to teach you a thing or two. These are the women who've lived a little. learned a little. And might have had a few more sexual partners than me. And my best friend. And all of my brothers. Combined.

I'm not saying this is some kind of representation of the number of penises. But it's not far off.

A special group of women in the slut category are the former sluts. I love these women. The women in this category have enjoyed themselves, made mistakes, and had fun. They've taken risks and would take them again in the right situation. They're adventurous and experienced.

The reason I appreciate them so much is that they're usually wise in some way, sexy in some way, know what they want, and know what a man wants. I've been in a relationship with a girl who admitted she used to be a little bit loose in the caboose. Granted I declined any offer for stories or examples, but it made a difference. All of my needs were met, and as a person, you usually don't get a better personality. She was fun, adventurous, and kind. Things didn't work out for one reason or another, but it wasn't related to her past, and we parted on very friendly and mature terms.
Men and women can both be sluts, this is true. But women can grow out of it. They can have their "phases" and move on and learn from them. Men are the ones who have the harder time killing those old habits. 
For men and women, if your partner has a past, learn to accept it. It's better that they did it before you, than after you. So show those old hoes some love. Because, let's face it, you'd probably still be a virgin without them. 

All Alone...

For much of my life, I've been afraid of being alone. Being single sucks. Especially when you're far from family and friends, as I often am. But when you're young, you're never as good a version of yourself as you are when you're alone. You're at your most productive, and have time to think about improving yourself as opposed to constantly thinking about how you can improve your relationship. As a guy in a relationship, you spend most of your thinking time on porn, games (video and/or sports) and sex. One other thing is likely to be how to make your relationship better. How to keep the magic alive or how to make her happy. The down side to this is that you rarely spend any time trying to actually make yourself the best version of yourself that you can be. Everything is relative to your partner. And that's okay as long as you have your shit together when you're alone, or you become dependent on having someone else around. It's really a rare occasion when someone actually enjoys that.

(hint: this is a leech. No one likes leeches.)

In reality, even leeches have their moments of usefulness, medicinally. But that's just as rare as someone wanting a boyfriend or girlfriend who's completely dependent on them. Even beyond that, someone who doesn't know how to be alone is often more prone to be unfaithful. Without 24/7 access to their significant other, they need to go out and have someone else fill the void. And before they know it, you're hiding used condoms in your purse, and explaining what her friend Ashley means when she says you make her boxers feel tighter.
Being alone is hard. It sucks balls. I've come to grips with that. You need to too. But when you get past all that, you realize that you're a really awesome person. I've been going to the movies alone for a long time. I never argue about what food to get, or what movie to see. I never spend too much, and I always get some at the end of the night. It's from me, yeah but whatever, you get what I mean. You have the same interests, you like the same foods, you want the same things, at the same time. You're funny, you're interesting, you're easy to talk to. You're fucking awesome. Enjoy it. The rest will come to you naturally.

Sock Diaries... :8/29/14

I guess now is as good a time as any to start this again. After the past two days I've had, I had to take a moment to wonder where the fuck I am in life. I'm a recruiter now. I don't like it. I have to go out and convince people to make smart decisions. I don't have the patience for it. I'd rather be overseas. Anyway, that's not what got me back here. I'm back here, doing this because of La Diabla. I was talking to two women. One, a great friend, and potentially more, but miles away, and another, a mind-cloudingly beautiful woman, who I'm sure could drive men insane, right here. Things fizzled out between me and the friend when she came close, but hopefully we'll remain friends. The crazy thing, was the beautiful girl. La Diabla. She was so smart. So sexy. So manipulative. I payed attention to everything she did and said. Red flags raised at every word she spoke, until I saw her. All alarms were silenced the second she came close. As defensive and conscious of myself as I am, she could make it past all of that with a look.
"Something is wrong..." I would think to myself.
"Nothing is wrong. I'm here." She would say. And that was that. She had what she wanted. Until she was caught. Red-handed. All of the evidence was there. I wasn't her only victim. Turned out I was only collateral. He was the real target. The other guy. The guy I knew was there. And I was sent on my way, after she realized that even though he now knew everything, that he would go back, but I wouldn't. So I was left there. "Dick in my hand, looking like an asshole." The prediction I had made so many times before. But the funny thing is, I wasn't mad at her. I wasn't even mad at myself. It played out the way that I knew it would. The thing that bothers me is that now, there's no one filling in the void. She was there because, not only was she in my head, I let her in because I was lonely. But here I am back at square one.
I have people who love me, this I know. But here I am alone again, far from home, and family and friends. The way things played out with La Diabla were... strange. But she's not my concern. I sometimes fooled myself into thinking that maybe she was my chance to love through more than just a telephone. It wasn't love. But I like to tell myself that you don't get into a relationship without at least hoping you'll get around to it.
But now I'm here alone again. That's all that sucks about it. I'm still such a romantic at heart I think. But man, this porn is getting old...

Perspective...

Open your eyes. Or should I say open your mind. Fuck you, so what it's a cliche. It's a good one. I'm here to talk to you all today about perspective. Or more accurately, other people's perspective.
The world would be a much smarter place if people spent more time trying to see things from another person's perspective.
Sometimes you'll see two people in a relationship and it seems like neither of them ever agrees with the other. But they don't need too. They're polar opposites, but they understand each other. That's the difference between them and the couple who ran into their first snag on their honey moon and had the divorce papers mailed to the Bahamas.
Mastering the art of seeing things from another person's perspective isn't as easy as it sounds. Generally speaking, you see things the way you see them because you believe it's the right way, for... reasons.

"It's a vase. Because if it were people they would be hideous mutant twins."

So it's difficult, but if you were to try and listen to someone when they were thinking something different than what you were, you could come up with a better plan, or, from what I've seen the most, a way to let them realize how wrong they are. (People are stupid.) But you need to open your eyes and realize when it's time to shut up and listen. I've learned the most about women by just listening to them not just when I feel like I'm completely fucking baffled, but when I think I have it all figured out. This is because when it comes to women, you can present a simple premise, thinking you have all the facts straight and in order and be completely wrong.

"It's a vase and some faces."

"No, it's a fox. He's lonely. He just won his school talent show but realized through the jealousy of the people he once thought to be his closest friends that he is, in reality, alone. And he's holding a bouquet of flowers for his dead grandmother."

You might not understand it, but accept it. Because sometimes you'll think you're completely wrong, and be dead on. Women are confusing. That's life. It's like my theory that all women's bathrooms contain Little Big Planet style co-op locking systems that open the door to extra rooms where they talk about their dates committee-style, and the only way to get in is to go in pairs, where one person holds down a lever and the door opens and the other person goes in and presses another lever to keep the door open because if the first girl let's go of the lever then the door shuts and she can't get in, so they need to go in groups in order for it to work. That sounds crazy but it's true. Probably. No one has actually confirmed this theory, but no one as actually refuted it either. So it could be true. It's like Schrodinger's bathroom. 

"I would like to present to the floor the case of this guy I'm here with who's really hot but suggested we split the check on the first date. I would also like to point out I haven't been laid in at least two years."

You might not understand it initially, but that's because you're looking at it from your own point of view. It's like Einstein's theory of relativity. If you're reading this blog, you probably have no idea what it actually is, but you know it's something that the smartest man in the world put together, and that guy also developed the atom bomb and knocked an entire country out of World War II in a day. From your point of view, if I were to plaster even the abridged (shortened) version on this blog you would still have a problem making it past the first paragraph without being completely lost. You wouldn't get it. To you, it would be a collection of words you may know, in an order you don't. From your perspective, it's bullshit. But from the perspective of the men who actually really know and understand it, it's a foundation for modern science.

Sometimes all it takes is a step back and a look through someone else's telescope, you might see some new stars. (Damn I'm getting good at these sign off sentences.)

Sign Language...

I've already talked to you about the subtle, subconscious signs of what you can expect when you first start dating someone. Now, I want to talk to you about the history of the subtle, conscious signs that you're supposed to read when you first meet someone.
Before we begin, I must, like always, offer the disclaimer that not all men and women are alike. That being said, I won't repeat it when you inevitably say out loud "I'm not like that." As you lie to yourself, I implore you to come back to this disclaimer and convince yourself that I'm not talking about you.
But I actually am.
Talking about you.
You.

You.

As a guy who sometimes likes to go out and meet women, and a guy who likes to talk to women on occasion, and a guy who's met a woman once in my life, I realized that trying to understand women based purely off of what you can find out without them using the communication method that our entire species has spent literally thousands of years developing, words (hereafter known as "words")  that has entire books (dictionaries) dedicated to ensuring that in using this form of communication everyone can definitively be on the same page. The communication used by women in social settings is often non-verbal, or uses words as little as possible while using body language such as glances or "looks" or head-nods or head turns, or psychic messaging, or crop-circles, to avoid using actual words.

"I like your shirt."

This bizarre form of communication, is what I like to call Beyond Speaking (hereafter known as B.S.). This B.S. began long ago and has been embedded in our society through the concept of  "The man goes out and chases the woman, or the man goes home alone." As the shy and timid men more often ended up being the ones going home alone due to a crippling fear of rejection and not wanting to look like an asshole, the men who had the balls enough to talk to the women were the ones who got what they wanted. While the nice guys sat in the corner fantasizing about marrying the girl at the bar and having two girls, and a dog and a Prius, the more aggressive men were taking home two girls to meet their dog named Prius. But first he needs some gas for the Hummer.
Eventually you get the gap between the "upper-class" Aggressive types (also known as "assholes" but hereafter known as Bravehearts) and the "lower-class" Shy nice guys (also known as "pussies", but hereafter known as Sweethearts) and the ever shrinking middle-class (hereafter known as minority reports or MRs.).
And communication begins to break down as B.S. begins to grow in popularity.
You get women who like to go out with their friends "Just to have a good time." and the women whose high standards as far as looks (both also known as "bitches", but hereafter known as Queens) keep the "Sweethearts" and the "MRs" in place.
Then you have the women who are out literally only to get laid (also known as hoes, but hereafter known as Freebirds) who work their way down from the Bravehearts to the really cute MRs to the okay looking MRs to the Pussies as potential candidates. As you can imagine, the Bravehearts usually get their pick of the litter in this group. They're the first ones the Hoes see and are the most aggressive and most experienced. The Sweethearts generally don't get to see a drop of this vagina rain unless one of the Hoes is considered a "grenade"(unattractive). Sweethearts are often turned off from Freebirds because they can't imagine a future with them. They just know that they could treat them better....
The last category is the females that are out to have a good time and whatever happens, happens (hereafter known as the Minority Report Females or MRFs).
Now you might be wondering, "Why are most of these names so mean, Sonata? Just because a girl is out with her friend and doesn't want to be hit on by Assholes all night doesn't mean she's a bitch."
To which I say, you're right. It doesn't mean that. But just because a guy wants to talk to you doesn't make him an asshole, just because the guy before him was. But it's easier to just categorize people under one umbrella, so that you don't have to look at them as individuals who may have had a bad day, or someone who's just lonely and wants to feel wanted. Or beautiful. Or handsome. But that's for a later blog isn't it?
anyway, in case you haven't been keeping up, here are the categories:

Queens: Aren't having it. Quote: "I'm a lesbian." "He's such an asshole. I don't know why the nice guys are such pussies."

Freebirds: Are definitely having it.
Quote: "You're cute. I think I can see your junk through your jeans."

Bravehearts: Sometimes just don't get it.
Quote: "She's just a Bitch. Whatever. Where are the Hoes?!"

Sweethearts: Swear they get it, so they don't want to look like an Asshole and bother you while you're out with your friend.
Quote: "She's probably a Bitch. Or she's dating some Asshole. Look, look at that asshole walking up to her right now. I bet you she's going to fuck him tonight. She's probably a Hoe."

MRs: Don't need it. Wouldn't mind having it though.
Quote: "Don't worry about it man. Let's just have a good time, if it happens it happens."

MRFs: Don't need it. Wouldn't mind having it though.
Quote: "Relax, he seems nice, let's just talk to them and see how it goes. If we don't like them, then we'll leave."


I've talked to many women on the subject of communication in these situations, with the understanding, on my end, that unless there's an explicit invitation, Sweethearts won't go and talk to a woman. And without an explicit (what's the opposite of an invitation? An Outvitation?) outvitation, Bravehearts WILL try and talk to you. And bone you.
Many men have found themselves way down the line talking to a girl they used to have a crush on, when that girl says something like "Well why didn't you tell me? I liked you too."

Reason 1: Because rejection sucks.
Reason 2: They didn't see the signs.

I was told by one of my female advisors that guys should look for signs like a girl giving the guy a look. Staring or something? Was she with a friend? How was she dressed? And maybe like one or two more things that I ignored because I could tell this wasn't going to get any clearer or make much more sense. When men are wrong, we just have to go and face that rejection or face the regret. Because we can't understand women's B.S. But it's because men are socially programmed to chase and women are socially programmed to be the chased. So it's always a gamble. Some guys aren't handsome enough to grab your attention just by sitting there and hoping you notice, some guys aren't good at reading the signs, so it's either take a chance, on rejection, or be satisfied with the fantasy, because you can't overcome the fear. And when that sign is a clear NO, some guys miss that sign too.

"I wonder if that's an acronym for something?"

If everybody just cut the B.S., and said exactly what they meant things might go a whole lot smoother. Or, I don't know, we could just start paying a little more attention. I'm not really 100% on this one...

Vulnerability...

Every time I watch a movie about fathers, good or bad, I mist up. The really good ones even drag a stray tear out, despite how many times I swallow, or clear my throat, while adjusting in my seat and blinking really hard.
I hate the feeling of being ignored. It makes me want to punch baby goats so they can scream for me and then I'll be all like, "Oh snap, what's up, baby goat? What happened? Are you okay? Yeah? Cool. Anyway EVERYONE LOOK AT ME!"
...or something.

These are my vulnerabilities. They're real. They're mine. And I'm cool with it. If you're not... like...who gives a shit?
To bring this all back around to what my blog is normally about, which is relationships, and/or masturbation (relationships this time... sorry) when you're with someone, you have to trust them. To not betray you, sure, and we'll get to that in a later blog post, but right now I'm talking about trusting someone with your weaknesses. Your vulnerabilities. The blueprints to your Death Star with your vulnerable exhaust port highlighted in neon pink.
You have to give them the keys to the kingdom, and prepare for the worst, while hoping for the best. Without knowing what makes the other person tick on the most personal level, you're just people who know the other person exists. If you've ever looked at a couple that has been together for a long time, you'll notice something. No matter how reserved or defensive one or both of them may be, they're in sync. Acting together without words, or with just the right amount. Even if one of them fusses at the other, the argument lasts seconds, with nothing really being resolved, because there was no argument. It's what they are always doing. It's what they will always do. Because they know each other. They know their lines and limits.
Not just the part you get when you sit down with someone for the best slice of pizza in Illinois... In Chicago... In the neighborhood... On the menu. Look, I don't have any gas, or money for gas, and this is the only pizza place in walking distance. And I have a coupon. Because you said you wanted pizza.
Playing the pretend game that you have no flaws and are always a happy-go-lucky, chivalrous gentleman, who always keeps his house spotless is all fine in the beginning. On date 1 or 2. But if you know that you have an avalanche of pizza boxes, dirty clothes and crusty socks shoved into your closet, it's only a matter of time before you forget to hide the fish bowl still holding a months-dead goldfish and a... is that a Nokia flip phone?
The truth is, we all have our secrets. Of course we do. And you're right to hold out for a while from telling someone you think you might like. But eventually, you need to know when the time is right. They can't make it their home if you don't even give them the key.

Day 1...

What did you do on day one? Did you dress in your fanciest clothes, take her to a fancy restaurant, and not even break a sweat at the $110 bill, knowing damn well you wanted to scream about how she didn't even bring a fucking purse. She brought an ID and a $20 bill and stuffed them in her bra. And your rent is due tomorrow. You're going to be in the negatives for the next week because of this one night. And you're going to suggest "Hey, we can go chill at my place for a while." and she's going to say no. Because she's tired and has to work tomorrow.
Oh, you have a job? I would have never known seeing as how you didn't even think about paying for one thing tonight!
And now you're not even going to get laid. You probably have to go on another date with her. Another expensive ass date. Can't switch to fast food from Le Restau de le Cretin. The bar has been set. See you next week. I hope that's not the only good fancy shirt you have. You might have to sell one of your mint condition comic books that you keep in the glass case in your bedroom.
Shit, you didn't even tell her about the comic books all night did you? And that new trailer that just came out for the new Superhero movie doesn't at all accurately represent the characters and you really want to explain that to someone. But not her. Because she'll think you're a nerd or something.
The problem with that is...
You are a nerd. And you're broke. And you hate that new trailer, you just know that director guy is going to just ruin it all. Again. But what did you do on day one? You were someone you don't even know and you did things you couldn't even imagine doing on a regular basis. And you didn't even get laid.
Be yourself. TV and Disney movies try to stress this as much as possible, but I don't think the message is being truly appreciated. It's more than just you're not as fun, or you're not a nice guy when you're pretending to be someone else, it's that you can't hold up a charade forever, and you won't want to. You're you because you like doing what you do. I mean, if you're like, fucking apple pies, and torturing cats, feel free to stop doing that, but if you're just a weirdo who likes having your girl wear cat ears and smell like apple pies, let it out. Eventually. You know, like after you do some normal stuff. Maybe leave the cat ears by the bed.  Or slip them on her "playfully"  before you do the deed. Wink.
It counts for the women too. Going outside of your element and trying new things, testing your limits, is a great thing. Feel free to go to a museum and get some culture instead of laying around your apartment all day and watching Ryan Gosling movies in a marathon, taking breaks only to see if that guy texted you and masturbating to men's furniture magazines. (These fictional characters are getting really out of hand. If any of them sound like you, call someone. This blog cannot help you.) But if you know you like Victorian style mahogany chairs more than the next girl, don't try and hide it. Let it out. "I have a thing for nice furniture." We won't be at the point where you let him know that you named your vibrator red suede couch, but it's better than you pretending you don't know what a couch is.
My very convoluted point is, be who you are going to be. Everyone is weird, everyone is unique and has something they like and/or do more than most other people. If you feel like you need to be someone different to keep them around, either they aren't worth keeping around, or you've got some growing up to do.

Signs...

You ran a stop sign. You got a a ticket. No matter how surprised you were that a cop saw you, you were not surprised that he was giving you a ticket.
That is how life works. Cause and effect. That's why it baffles me that so many people get into relationships with other people where there are obvious and sometimes fixable problems at the beginning, and they ignore those problems and end up letting them be the thing that makes them break up in the end.
For those who don't understand, I'll elaborate with a story.

You meet a woman in the mall.
You find out she is a stripper.
You date said stripper.
Said stripper comes home late every weekend smelling like alcohol and cigarette smoke.
You do not like this.
You notice that said stripper gets a lot of attention from men, even while not working.
You do not like this.
You go to said stripper's job with your friends to show off said stripper.
You now see said stripper grinding on horny people for literally a dollar at a time.
Your friends see your girlfriend naked.
You do not like this.
You argue with said stripper about her choice of work.
She does not like this.
You break up.
Your friends call you stupid because you dated a stripper.

Did you notice the first warning sign? I'll give you a hint: it was in the first line. You meet a woman in the mall, you're probably talking to her because you saw her, she was attractive, and that made you want to talk to her. You didn't know that she was a stripper. But you were showing her attention.  A lot like the attention that she was getting from other men later in the story. Now this isn't to say you shouldn't meet a woman in a mall or any public place because she's attractive, but that you shouldn't be surprised when other people find her attractive. You should have prepared for that. Let's move on...
The second warning sign was in the second line. Obviously. You found out she was a stripper. Now you should immediately think to yourself, "Do I have what it takes to date a stripper? Confidence, patience, a trusting personality?"
Do you know where the third sign was? I'll give you a hint: It's not where you think. There were no more signs. The rest of the story are all results of the two bits of information you gathered in the first two lines. (And you didn't even have to ask her her name! No your real name. That's not your real name, come on, what is it?)
This isn't some warning about dating strippers, it's a warning about dating anyone, or two, or -thing. Whatever. No judgements. From day one, you are gathering information on the other person, and it's up to you to pay attention and figure out whether or not you can handle it.

"Did she just say crae crae?"
"Did she just say she thinks porn is cheating?"
"Did he just say his 'wife'?"

If you pay attention to the bullshit you're getting right now, you can take a moment to think about what that bullshit will mean later. Do you like your space, and she seems a little clingy? Do you like to be close and they seem a little distant? Fix it now. Either sort that shit out or pack your bags and take your clingy ass to the next guy. He probably loves cuddling.
The funny thing is, women are usually better at cutting the bullshit early than men. Men are used to starting every relationship on probation, trying to impress her. So if a woman doesn't like it, it usually stops early, but the other way around, men are afraid to speak up, until the day he just wants her to stop singing that damn song. She can't sing. She's a horrible singer. Dammit... why did I let her serenade me on our second date. I want to crawl into the bathtub with that damn karaoke machine... she'd probably sing at my funeral.
You know your limits. Don't ignore the signs. If you can tell from day one that he's a class A hoarder, don't act like you didn't see it coming when you have to climb through a maze of old clocks, diapers and cat toys to get to your closet.
Long story short, don't run the stop sign and act surprised when you get the ticket. Next time you'll probably get sideswiped by a tractor trailer. And she'll probably sing at your funeral.

The Wrong One...

I picked the wrong one. At the wrong time. For all the wrong reasons. I should know better. But sometimes you gotta let your guard down and let one in. For all the mistakes I make in my life, the only thing I consider them are mistakes. Flukes in the system. A smart man will build up the wall, but won't forget the door.
Ok. You can stop reading now. I thought I would have a lot more to go with that, but I feel like I peaked a little too early and just put my best metaphor up front. Wow. This has never happened before, I swear.
Alright, shake it off. Let's try this again... *AHEM*

Grow up or get out...

Grow some balls. Take a chance. Nice guys are always complaining about girls being with assholes, and putting them in the friendzone and all this other self inflicted pain of being patient with this woman who's supposedly stepping all over them. My advice would be to stop laying down over puddles for people. You know who doesn't get stepped on? Someone who's standing up.
I don't mean to be so mean to my friendzoned friends out there, but it's what you need. It's what I needed. If you're so in love with someone that you can't just let them go, make them make the call. If you're just fed up with listening to her complain about not being able to meet nice guys, and talking about maybe she should be a lesbian, nut up and tell her how you feel. "Look, I love you, to death, more than like a friend, or like a sister, I've been there for you for forever, but I can't just be a bystander anymore. I want to be the guy you talk to your friends about, not the friend you talk to about your guy. So what's it going to be?" and you know what? There's about a 90% chance she's just going to tell you she doesn't see you that way. And you know what you do? You say ok, and you hang up the phone. You walk away. With the slightest trace of disappointment, but with your dignity. You don't call her. You don't message her. You don't talk to her. You move the hell on with your life, because you just became a man. You go find you a woman who can accept you for you. And get happy. But if that takes a while, you wait it out.
And when you bump into her one day some where in Walmart, and she's all happy to see you, don't even show teeth when you smile. Say hi, be cordial, and move on. Be awesome. Because even if she has a boyfriend, (whom you do not say anything like "take care of her or..." to) you walk away, and I guarantee, she's going to look back at you with that look of realization. "I really missed something there." And when that giant muscular douchebag she introduced to you cheats on her like all of them did, when she calls you, it's going to be to try and hop on that opportunity that she missed all that time ago. But hell, you spent so much time out there being awesome, that maybe you gotta shoot her down because you already found someone better... The bitch...
Okay, that's a bit idealistic. But the reality of it is, of this entire blog post and a half, is that life is about taking chances. Some people were lucky enough to be born rich, some people were lucky enough to be born beautiful, but the majority of us are working with the averages, and below. But if you never take a chance to leave your comfort zone (or friendzone, for some of you), you can never grow to be bigger than your box. life has so much more in store for you outside the borders of what you know. Go get it. Go get happy. Go get awesome....

The Mating Game...

I consider every sexual encounter that I get into to be a brand new learning experience. Whether it's a guaranteed one-night stand or a long termer. The first time or 100th time, I'm always gathering information. What makes sex such an interesting study, is the fact that you have two people, sometimes complete strangers, trying to find a way to use the other person's body to get to the peak of physical satisfaction. More times than not, these two people are from completely different backgrounds of sex. They may want completely different things, they may expect one thing or another, but the desired end result is the same. However, where the most interesting and satisfying end results come are when you get two people who want to get their satisfaction from another person's satisfaction. Here is where the manipulation comes in. This is where it becomes a game.
I consider myself a student of people. That's to say that I like to study the way people behave and respond. The most interesting subsection to study is sexual behavior. I've found women who love to be roughed up and abused. I've found women who want to be slow stroked and caressed. I personally hate those women. I'm the type of guy that wants to dominate the situation. Get a little rough, maybe. That's where I like to click with my women. But I'm smart enough to be flexible in that aspect. Not all women like the choke and the spank. But whatever it is that they do like, I like to meet them there, and take them somewhere they may have never known they wanted to go.
Foreplay: Foreplay is the best way to start figuring out how to best go about playing the mating game and winning. During foreplay, you have the opportunity to look for a few of your partner's hotspots, these are usually biting/sucking targets, e.g. neck, ears, nipples. As a dominating man, I like to slide my hand around the neck and have it in choking position just momentarily, to check the reaction and see whether or not my woman is definitely into that. The hotspots are your reference points for when you're dealing with any issues getting your partner off. They're great for going back to when it's time for the big climax, and even if you can make it there without them, they can definitely enhance, and often lighten the load of work required for getting some of your more complicated challengers to their final destination.
Initial Entry: I don't consider oral and manual (using hands) sex to be a part of the main event, nor do I consider it foreplay. I categorize it separately. Foreplay happens above the belt and/or over the clothes down bottom. The second part of the process is what I call Initial Entry. This is where you make your first up close and personal with your partner's home plate. When it comes to women, this is a very important time for their partner to pay attention to how they respond to certain touches and finger/ tongue locations. If she doesn't give you much on clitoris action, then you may be better off inside, which is always better for the next part. If she doesn't really dig the inside stuff, and you were better off outside then take note, and do what you can to get her to come because there's a possibility that it will be your only chance.
The Stroke: The stroke is the bread and butter of the entire operation. No matter who you are, you have a very high possibility that you'll have to deal with a stroke of some kind or another. Outside of modern robotics, it's not always a walk in the park to take your lady back to funky town, using only your penis. It's possible, and sometimes, very easy, but in the occasion where you can't just drop in and change her perception of reality, having her question everything from physics to her own existence, you need to know just how to move to make that happen. It's about reading the body language. Listen to her breathing, feel every quiver and twitch when you move one way or another, when you speed up, slow down, go deep or shallow. Keep watching, keep feeling. It shouldn't be hard seeing a how you're literally inside of her. Once you catch the rhythm that she needs, you keep it up no matter what; through cramps, exhaustion, global warming and Armageddon. You keep up the stroke rate and depth until she crosses that finish line and loses control of her body for that perfect 10 to 15 seconds you've been working for for an hour. Remember to pump through to the end unless she gives you the indication that she's the type to either clench you inside, or hop away as fast as possible for recovery.
After she gets her one, feel free to get yours without guilt. Once a woman has had an orgasm, she may be ready for more, but feel free to relax after that. It reality, most women actually orgasm more easily once they've had their first one. So have fun with it, and get your rocks off. You made it. Good job.
I have a lot more tips and tricks I've been harvesting  over my years and through my studies, but I can't make it too easy on you guys. Go out and bone your ladies proper.

The Relationship Equation: Pt 3 (AKA- Intelligence...)

I've spent my life trying to be the smart one. In school, at home, with friends, and with girlfriends. When you spend that much time pretending to be smart, you're bound to learn something. The biggest lesson I've learned is that through all of the things that I've learned, it turns out, I'm an idiot. The philosophy that I've lived by is to learn from other's mistakes. When you see that guy get married at 18 and get divorced at 18 and a half, you look at that fallen comrade and step over his body, sliding safely, and single-ly into 19 years old. When you see that guy marry a stripper, and get his bank account emptied the first time he's out of town, you check your pocket for your wallet, and throw that stripper's number into the trash.
The problem with this method of living is that you spend all of your time rubbernecking at somebody else's accident that you run right into the ass end of the giant van that was at a dead stop. And suddenly you're the idiot with whiplash, a concussion, and skyrocketing insurance premiums. If that metaphor lost you, let me explain it in a much simpler form. You forget that you're young and dumb, and are bound to make your own ridiculous, and completely avoidable mistakes. I've spent so much time trying to avoid being made the asshole of, I completely transformed myself into the one making assholes of people. I've missed out on clear opportunities to have the purest forms of happiness, more than once. Now I know that everyone does this, especially when you're young, but what stings is that I've prided myself in being "smarter than that." Truth is, I've become an idiot. I've been slapping all this armor onto my car so that I could be protected from the menaces in the road, and suddenly, I'm the one driving the tank down the wrong side of the carpool lane.
Life is about risks. Taking risks doesn't mean taking blind leaps of faith, it means weighing the potential benefits of success (S), against the cost of failure (F) and making sure that it's equal to, or less than the actual chance of failure(%F) proving that the risk (R) was worth it. Or...

(R)= (S)-(F)≤(%F)

That's it. Relationships are actually just that easy. 1s and 0s, ladies and gentlemen. Scientific and stuff. But just make sure you don't end up being the guy so blinded by the science of it, you forget to look for pure, genuine happiness with another, flawed human being. She might snore, he might be a lazy bastard, she might be a nag, and he might be a clumsy idiot. But in reality, you're one of those things to them, and for reasons that you may never understand, you spilling your cereal all over yourself right before you leave for work, or crawling into bed and wrapping yourself around him like an angry octopus may be one of the many terrible things about you that they smile about, as he sweats his ass off and waits until you're deep enough sleep for him to wriggle free and turn on the A/C. You can be the smartest asshole on the planet, but sometimes that won't stop you from looking like a below average asshole.

Clarity...

Post-Orgasm Clarity (POC), to be a little more specific. The worst part of sex is the post-orgasm clarity. That is, if you're still having promiscuous (hopefully protected) sex with different partners. In a loving, caring relationship, post-orgasm clarity is just wonderful. You get some things off your chest, (or on your chest, on a fun night... winky-face) you reconfirm your commitment and dedication to one another while enjoying the freedom of such an intimate moment with someone you can trust.
On the other hand, outside of a loving relationship, post-orgasm clarity (POC) is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a human. Ever. For women, it's usually not as devastating, because with the multiple orgasm set-up, one orgasm just drives you on into chasing the next and therefore gives you a slower downslope into self-loathing. In a man, however, the moment after an orgasm is like driving a car 50 miles an hour into the wall of an elementary school, that's made up entirely of harsh realizations, regret and now-obvious truths. The first thing I thought after losing my virginity was, "Wow. This really could have waited. And.... I don't ever want to see this person again." I didn't want to feel like that. But that's what happens when male genitalia release their strangle-hold on the male brain, and all senses come back into full function.
A penis is kind of like the guy who convinces you to buy tickets to go to Vegas, loan him some money, and then tells you to keep gambling the money you have even though you're losing all of it, including your plane ticket home, and walks up to you afterwards and says, "Wow, man. Those were some terrible bets. I hope you find a way back home." And he proceeds to get on the plane alone, with his un-bet ticket, having not spent any of the money you gave him. That is what it's like, ladies, when a guy is horny. The penis has this strange "override" password to the brain that it's irresponsibly willing to use at the drop of a hat (or the drop of a pair of panties), that can completely alter all five senses and any sense of right and wrong. (Look it up, it's science, yo.) But then, in the moments when everything makes so much sense and life is perfect and you know that every little thing you've done to place you at this moment shouldn't just be done the same, but with a sense of pride, knowing it was the right step all along because you ended up right, here... in those moments, the Penis (AKA Dick) is packing his bags to skip town before his little ponzie scheme catches up to him.
Then the POC comes crashing down on you, mercilessly. Shamelessly. "You don't belong with this girl." or "You started without a condom." or "You finished without a condom." or "We both knew you weren't going to be able to pull out." or "You shouldn't have put your mouth there." or "You shouldn't have let her put her finger in there." or "You made eye-contact with the cat the whole time."
In it rushes. All at once. Suddenly, you know the right answer to everything that's happening in your life. You know who you're going to vote for, what you need to do to get in shape, the meaning of life, and why and how you will never go to a bar and have a one-night stand again. "Dick" has released all of the blood-flow back to your brain and you're now allowed to do as you please.
This reason is the reason that masturbation is such an important part of life. It offers a minor, shorter form of POC, while avoiding most (not all) feelings of shame and self-loathing. Suddenly, you know that you don't want to be with your best friend's super-hot ex-girlfriend. Suddenly, you don't want to have sex with your ex. Suddenly you're too sleepy to get up and finish that cold, three day old pizza.