Fuck Closure: It’s Never Over

June 28, 2010 Adora, Diary No Comments

“I could lie here and hold you all weekend, listen to you moan over and over, and then just lie here and hold you until they send the dogs in to find us,” Lucas whispered as I nestled my face into his sweaty neck. Both of us inhaling each other and exhaling our history in perfect syncopation.

I clearly have a hard time staying away from this man, but I’m no longer fighting it. When we merge, we merge. When we part, we part. The parting is never for too long. All our circles and triangles keep us coming back for more. We’re in an endless game of chess, Lucas and I. I know when to let him win, and he knows when to let me lose.

“We’re not ever going to have any closure are we?” I asked him.

“Fuck closure,” he said. … Continue Reading

Men Don’t Leave, Especially the Ones Who Fuck Up the Most

February 13, 2010 Adora, Diary 1 Comment

He strikes out at me when I am within reach, and then he reaches for me when I draw the line.
– Ani DiFranco “Served Faithfully”

A part of me wanted to knee him in the balls and then have his name blacklisted throughout all of Hollywood for being such an unbelievable bastard. The other part of me wanted to kiss his forehead, wish him well, and say goodbye. But because we were in a controlled environment, because he was my boss, and because I hadn’t had sex in two and a half months, I stayed.

“Give me another chance, Adora?” Lucas pleaded with those weepy puppy dog eyes he pulls out whenever he knows he’s in the doghouse.

“I gave you a chance when we first met. Remember? You shit all over it.”

“Come away with me. We can go anywhere. Spain… Greece… the Cayman Islands…”

Of course, he listed those three destinations. On our first date (before he threw another woman in my face), I told him I desperately wanted to travel to all of those places sometime in the year 2010.

As we stood in the corner of the penthouse suite at The Standard downtown with 50 of our friends and colleagues doing shots and dancing on tables, he pulled me into his lap and started running his fingers through my hair. I’d like to say it was the champagne and wine that compelled me to let him. But the truth is, I stayed in his arms because it felt good.

He’s quite a handful — Lucas. As the head executive at our film studio, he’s more than accustomed to people taking orders from him.

Rising from his lap, I exploded, “I don’t take orders from people, especially you, Lucas.”

His eyes and his voice softened even more. “I’m not giving you orders. I miss you. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think you had feelings for me, and I screwed up.”

I had been thinking about him a lot the past month. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s the last person I’d been with, or if it’s because things weren’t really over yet, or if it’s because I’m just that hard up. But he’d been on my mind so much that for a second I thought I’d manifested the entire scenario. I feared that perhaps, I was to blame for him beckoning me back into his life.

When I was younger, I lusted after brilliant, powerful, tragic men like him. Some women find him repulsive. Others find him irresistible. Underneath it all, he’s just a puppy desperately wanting to let someone love him. But as the old adage goes: we get in our own way.

“I mean it, I miss you,” he repeated. “Stay with me, and then come away with me tomorrow. We can leave in the morning.”

“Trust me. By this time next week, you’ll forget that you miss me, and you’ll start missing someone else.”

And then he pulled me closer and kissed me, at first soft and then long and deep. Lucas and I are nowhere near being in love, yet this keeps happening.

There’s nothing worse than when unavailable men throw themselves at you, except — of course — indulging in the act when it happens. The next morning, I tiptoed out of the hotel room as silently as I could.

“Where are you going?” Lucas asked out of nowhere.

“Oh, I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “I’m heading to the office. I have to get some work done.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I have a lot of catching up to do. You should know, you gave me the workload.”

“So are you going to come with me?”

“Let me think about it. I’ll call you later.”

He ended up calling me later instead. I didn’t pick up the phone and I didn’t return his call.

I have to see this man nearly everyday online and in real life. When will we get the time to be just friends? When I quit my job? When one of us gets married? When pigs fly?

I’ll keep you posted.

My Reality Check

December 23, 2009 Adora, Diary No Comments

I’m a risk taker. At times, I have been a daredevil. I’m no angel, and I am definitely a siren. As I get older, I wonder if should start being more cautious about the kinds of shenanigans I get myself into on a bi-weekly basis. Should I not have gotten involved with the most pungent playboy at my film studio? Should I not have moved back to Los Angeles on a whim and a precarious livelihood? Should I look before I leap? 

Well, ever since I was old enough (a toddler) to look people in the eyes, smile at them, and jump into their laps at the doctor’s office, looking before I leap hasn’t deterred me from going for it.

We are all here for a reason, if not many. If one of my purposes in this lifetime is to be a warrior for love and all the wild at heart, then I must. I must keep dating in Los Angeles. I must be open to different kinds of men–even reality TV stars.

As I’ve written in a previous post, I fell in love with a rock star not long ago. The experience was wonderful and horrible, and decadent and deadly, and surreal and like living the truest truth I’ve ever felt. If I could do it all over again I would–minus his public arrest and my weathering integrity.

You’re probably thinking, after such a disruptive dating debacle, why on earth would she ever want to get involved with someone in the entertainment industry again? 

I don’t go seeking out these men, I swear. It. Just. Happens. I’ve known “Reality” for a couple of months now. When we met some definite sparks flew, but I wrote him off as a cheesy talk show host, who was just another notch on Hollywood’s belt of shame. But then I had an actual conversation with him, and my cynical lamp post knees began to bend, at least half-way.

Back when I watched MTV, I used to think Reality was funny, charismatic, light and bright, and in better shape than Michelangelo’s David. After meeting him in person, I can verify he is all of those things.

At a recent holiday party, our eyes locked as soon as I walked in the door, and as the old adage goes, “it was on!” 

So can I remain open, or will I shut down, affronting the face of potential romance and fun? Can I date more than one person for once in my life like all the dating experts out there say single women should? Can I manage to not put Reality in a box and toss it to the sharks? Can I dismiss the fact that girls young enough to be my daughter stop him on the sidewalk to get his autograph?

I’ll let you know in early 2010. 

Newsflash: Yes, Fucking Someone Else in Front of Me is Insulting

December 2, 2009 Adora, Diary No Comments

“Didn’t you just fuck him last week?” asks my friend Tanya, as the two of us watch the last guy I had dinner with walk into a film industry wedding reception with a tall blonde, who was clearly his date. 

“Why yes.  Yes, I did.”

“The two of you have been spending a lot of time together.  Did he tell you he was bringing someone to the reception?”


“Have you talked to him since he’s been back in town.”


“Don’t you think he should have told you?” 


Suddenly, my friend Kathleen runs up behind me and whispers anxiously in my ear.

“What the hell is Lucas doing?  Did you two have a falling out of some sort?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.  Last time we saw each other, we were having pancake breakfast at my favorite Los Feliz diner.”

“So what’s the deal with the two of you?” asks Tanya.

“The deal is over, apparently.”

“No, I mean did you like him?”

“We were just getting to know each other,” I reply before taking an extended swig of my cocktail.  “I wasn’t planning on anything developing other than friendship at first, but then it did.”

Our male confidante Patrick approaches us.

“Who’s the chic posing with Lucas?” he asks.

(Silence and frozen faces)

“Ah shit, don’t tell me one of you is sleeping with him,” Patrick says disapprovingly.

I look down at the ground.

“Jesus Adora, you know better than that,” he scolds.

“I just starting working at the studio a month ago, Patrick,” I say, starting to get annoyed.  “I didn’t know anything about him other than that I was starting to enjoy his company.”

Patrick shakes his head in disappointment.

“What is it with you women getting your hopes and expectations up over guys like Lucas?  Women are totally disposable to him.  That’s just how the dude functions. You should’ve known he just wanted a taste of the new girl on campus.”

Aggravation begins to flood through my veins.

“My hopes and expectations?!  My hopes were not to get seriously involved with a guy I just met a month ago, and my expectations were not to be exclusive after only a few weeks.  My expectations are to always be treated with respect, and he just slapped me in the face with the fact that he has none for me.”

I storm away from the group and head in Lucas’ direction.”

Tanya and Kathleen run after me.

“Adora, don’t do be upset,” Kathleen pleads.  “It’s not you.  This is just how Lucas is.”  


You’re probably all wondering what happened next.  Well, I asked Lucas why he didn’t let me know he was bringing a date to the reception.  He stared at me blankly, said he didn’t know why it even mattered, and that there was no reason for me to feel awkward because there was nothing between us.


We’re adults living in Los Angeles.  Casually dating more than one person at a time is completely socially acceptable behavior.  Losing interest in someone you’re seeing and letting that person know, so as to not lead him/her on is socially responsible behavior.  Showing someone that you’re no longer interested in him/her a week after you fuck him/her by bringing another man/woman to a social function is just plain mean.

There may be a number of sophisticated psychological reasons behind why people behave the way they do when it comes to dating and relationships.  Maybe they’re tortured individuals.  Maybe they fear rejection.  Maybe they’d rather go through men/women like tissues than ever risk breaking open because they can’t stand the thought of being happy.  Maybe they’re just unable to be sexually satiated by one person at a time.  However, giving someone a free pass to perpetuate his/her bad habits because that’s just the way he/she is isn’t something I can do. That’s just the way I am.

Lucas left me a voice message two days after the wedding.  I guess he grew a conscious over night.

“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings or insult you in any way,” he said.


Dear Lucas,

Of course, you hurt my feelings, and of course, you insulted me.  I’m so happy I helped you get a taste of the new girl on campus.


Adora Flame’s Top 10 Searing Songs to be Seduced to

November 23, 2009 Homework 1 Comment

Music was my first love, and right now I feel like making love.   So, in the spirit of AV’s “15 High-Energy Songs to Have Sex to,”  I’ve compiled a list of tunes that make me swoon.  



IN LOVE WITH YOU – Erykah Badu & Stephen Marley

He said he’s really diggin me.  I don’t know what to say
I can’t imagine why I feel so weak, say, say.  
That’s when he took my heart in his hands, and kissed it gently.
He open up his lips then said this poetry. 

 ALL YOUR WAY – Morphine

I run good but I’m hard to start, and the brakes are bad so I’m hard to stop. I found a woman who’s soft but she’s also hard.  While I slept she nailed down my heart.

MAY THIS BE LOVE – Jimi Hendrix

Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all,
my worries seem so very small
with my waterfall.

NUMBER 1 CRUSH: – Garbage

I will lie for you,
beg and steal for you,
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see,
you’re just like me.

ONLY YOU  – Portishead

It’s only you, who can tell me apart
And it’s only you, who can turn my wooden heart


Here I come again now baby like a dog in heat. Tell it’s me by the way now baby.  I like to tap the streets. 

FEELS LIKE HEAVEN – Kenny Vaughan & the Art of Love

When I’m with you baby (lalalalala lala)
You make me feel so good inside (Oooooooh) {just can’t stand it baby}
everything we do, every place we go (lalalalala lala)
I caught my love oh no no

DREAM – Alice Smith

There was a time that I didn’t have you around.  Back in them days my heart never made a sound.  Now it’s beating like my head’s in the clouds.
Never doubt that I’m a always be down to hang around you.


Baby, baby, baby, can’t you stay with me tonight?  Oh baby, baby, baby, don’t my kisses please u right? 
You were so hard to find
the beautiful ones, they hurt you everytime.


You’ve been coolin’, baby, I’ve been droolin’, 
All the good times I’ve been misusin’, 
Way, way down inside, I’m gonna give you my love, 
I’m gonna give you every inch of my love, 
Gonna give you my love.

Cowboys, Celebrities & Walking Contradictions

November 22, 2009 Adora, Diary No Comments

“You only fuck celebrities,” said an ex-lover of mine, who was trying to get me to sleep with him again one lonely night last winter on the Santa Monica Pier.

“That’s not true,” I replied. “I have only been with two or three men who happen to have notoriety in some worlds, and one of them was really just a friend who wanted me to join in on a threesome.”

The truth is, prior to that night my romantic history of the last two years could have been chronicled on imdb.com. However, this was not something that I was consciously aware of, nor did I want to make it a habit. I lived for passion and excitement, and the men I was spending time with provided that.

I’ve never cared about money. I’ve been with the most starving of artists to the highest paid actor in television. At the end of the day, the bottom line is always the same. When it comes to matters of the heart, the heart is all that matters.

A man’s fortune won’t stomp through the city with me hand-in-hand, exploring endless possibilities for love and adventure into the night. And a man’s fame won’t brush my hair out of my face, look deeply into my eyes, and take me in his arms like I am quite possibly the most precious and desirable thing he has ever touched.

So where and when did my taste for loving so hard and long in Los Angeles arise? I suppose it started with my affinity for cowboys and the Wild West.

I have always believed that whatever we fall in love with as children, we continue to love as adults. We may forget what these things are, but when faced with reminders, the love rushes back with a vengeance.

I was obsessed with horses when I was a little girl. In addition to dancing until a pool of sweat surrounded my shoes on the dance floor, and skating until my quads turned to jello, horseback riding made me feel free.

Who better to ride with than a cowboy with grit and sensitivity, someone to kiss the fire and salt off my lips, caress my spirit and shoot straight from the hips? I thought I found my cowboy not too long ago when I dated a man who played such a character in an early ‘90s flick. But it was just a movie. It was just a fairy tale. Mr. sensitive cowboy was not a real person, and my Golden Globe boyfriend was simply playing a part.

It’s quite possible that I’ve spent my entire life looking for someone to take his place, the cowboy character not the actor. The thing with cowboys is they are often trouble, something not unfamiliar to me.

I was somewhat of a wild child during adolescence. I used to roam the streets in the bad parts of my hometown until 4:00 a.m., carrying a pint of Jack Daniels, a can of Mountain Dew, a pack of Marlboro Reds, and a jack knife. I hitchhiked and I stole things. I spray painted Pink Floyd lyrics on the wall of my high school gym. I lost my virginity at far too young of an age in a cornfield across the street from the engineering plant where my Dad worked.

That phase of my life lasted for only a brief period of time, but the urban angst and appeal to chaos stayed with me for many years. My friends in college used to say my attraction to rebels and misfits sprung from my desire to “nurture and save all the lost cowboys.” These are the same confidantes who nicknamed me “Vixen,” and said I was a femme fatale – so smooth and in control of every guy who dared pursue me. Looking back, I suppose I did come across that way. Like that Flaming Lips song, “I thought there was a virtue in always being cool.”159627088_a05470f092

However, I was really just one giant walking contradiction, as so many individuals with such brazen bravado are. I have never been smooth or in control. And I wasn’t always a wild child. There was a time when even I was a rainbow-unicorn-pink-muffin girl. Underneath the Hollywood battle scars, she is still in there, and she’s looking for someone daring enough to understand her wild child, her Vixen, and her pink muffin girl.

I don’t want to “save all the lost cowboys,” but I love the idea of riding alongside and lying in the arms of just one.

Here’s the catch. I am horrible at relationships. I either give too much or not nearly enough. I either dive in head first, or I walk along the edge of the water, while my reflection and my lover both stick their tongues out at me. I am not the slightest bit domestic. I don’t cook. I don’t clean. And you can forget about asking me to fix anything around the house. An ex-boyfriend of mine once called me the “consummate bachelor.”

“You’re practically a guy,” he said one night as I opened my pathetic excuse for a refrigerator, which occupied one item – a bottle of vodka.

I lack staying power. I’m a workaholic. I make mistakes – a lot.

But I have loved deeper than my depth, and I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for the chance to love and run free with Adventure’s Son.

So what’s a girl who is so clearly a tragic yet hopeful walking contradiction to do?

The only answer I can surmise is, keep her eyes opened and her heart aware of someone who could possibly be a walking contradiction as tragic and hopeful as her.

No actors or rock stars, please.

Image by Kevin Zollman.

Manhattan Madam Pissed At Harvard

November 22, 2009 Politically Erect No Comments

spitzerThe disgraced former-governor Eliot Spitzer recently spoke at the Edmond J. Safra Foundation Center for Ethics at Harvard University as part of a series of talks to “promote philosophical reflection on some of the most challenging ethical issues in public life.”

The foundation’s director, Lawrence Lessig, told The New York Post, that he asked Spitzer to speak because he could offer attendees a unique perspective.

Lessig also said that the well-publicized “hookergate” debacle that cost him governorship was not a factor in determining whether Spitzer was qualified to speak.

Kristin Davis, the madam who supplied Spitzer’s escorts is furious about the speaking gig.

The following excerpt is from a post on Davis blog:

Spitzer drawing the line between public policy and personal ethics is blatantly un-American. Public Officials are elected, in part, on their personal ethics. There [sic] entire past and any blemish on their character are brought to the public light for us to scrutinize and determine whether or not they are “fit” for leadership. Their families campaign with them to show us that they have the type of values that Americans respect and support.

Mr. Spitzer was a vigilant crusader against Wall Street. He was also a vigilant crusader against prostitution yet a hypocrite of the highest level since he went around arresting the same agencies he frequented. I have to wonder if that hypocrisy bled into other areas of his life? Especially since the biggest Ponzie scheme in the history of the world happened right under his nose as both AG and Governor.

For the record, I am not saying that I see no value in hearing what Mr. Spitzer has to say. I’d love to hear from a man who held the highest political office in the state of NY on how we can better evaluate our public officials to ensure they are not corrupt.

You can read the letter she wrote Lessig here.

The response from Harvard students and alums is mixed. Tara Jayaratnam, a student at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government, told The Boston Globe she “thought it was extremely valuable,” adding that society tends to hold public officials to high standards, often overseeing the expertise they may be able to bring to a debate.

An alum who spoke with The Post at the Harvard Club of New York didn’t mince words: “It’s unbelievably hypocritical. He should find the deepest hole in Manhattan and crawl back into it. Unfortunately, there’s no sense of shame anymore. Shame died with the Clinton era.”

Mmm, catty–just the way we like our politics.

Image via A Life’s Anthropology. Information via The New York Post.

Is Sex Overrated?

November 21, 2009 Opinion No Comments

Sex is overrated, says SmakNews. Below are their top ten reasons and our rebuttal.

1. Sex toys exist.
“Though an actual heartbeat is nice, it isn’t necessary.” If you think of sex as whatever activity preceding the orgasm, then, yes, I suppose all you’d need is something to assist in bringing that about. But the orgasm is just a small part of sex for me. I’m into the experience, the data that my sensory receptors are taking in, the way my body is perceiving this other body, the chemistry, the dance, the single entanglement within the chessboard of interactions–that’s sex for me. The bigger picture. A vibrator is as effective as hitting on my barista.

2. This B How Babby Is Formed
No sex means you don’t have to make any “morning-after stops at Planned Parenthood with your Mary-Kate Olsen sunglasses and yesterday’s makeup.” True, even the most careful person could have a condom-related fail. But then, the odds of dying in a car accident are higher and we never hesitate to step into ours–even if we’re only driving a block.

3. Food Is The New Sex
If you’ve read my column Is Food The New Sex?, you know what I’m talking about:

It’s a huge industry—all of it. Chefs are the new porn stars. We spend hours perusing produce. Everything is carefully inspected, selected, purchased, put away, then taken out, washed, cut up, mixed, put to the flame… Sex to a lot of us has lost its focus on the details. It’s lost its sensuality. The kitchen brings that careful attention to the senses right back. It resurrects eroticism

SmakNews agrees: “You see more ‘o faces’ at dining room tables than that majority of women’s bedrooms. Sad, I know.” This is not a good reason!

4. It’s A Tough Workout
“Sex is work.” I half want to let this one slide. I’ll be straight with you: once, I made the grave error of teaching an old lover a lazy sex position I picked up (off the Ars Amatoria, I believe?). I never saw the sort of high-energy sexual acrobatics I prefer again. Not once.

But, OK. Fine. I’ll be fair about it. Sex can be hard work if you end up with a borderline Tantric, Red Bull-chugging acrobat. But most people are not borderline Tantric, Red Bull-chugging acrobats. If you’re playing the field, you can easily select for endurance level in a lover as you can, oh, I don’t know, table manners.

5. It Takes Planning
“The occurrences for you to throw each other up against a wall and get down isn’t the norm,” writes SmakNews. “This isn’t Hollywood. Often there’s roommates, full stomachs, children, parents, or wall hangings that stop this all from happening… We already have enough scheduling to do in our lives, no need to pencil in sex time.” This has to be the most depressing thing I have ever heard. But I’ll admit it–I do it all the time. I totally schedule my sex, just as I do my alone time and my time with friends. I do this because these things matter–far more than that 5 o’clock meeting, if you ask me. Spontaneity killers? Please. If when you have sex is the only exciting thing about it, UR DOIN IT RONG.

Oh, PS: I’ve had sex in Hollywood–it wasn’t as great as sex in the Westside.

6. Sexually Transmitted Disease
“You don’t want to have to worry that every ingrown hair is actually a symptom of herpes.” Sexual health is a big deal and I’m a little surprised this wasn’t reason number one. I’m not going to moralize about it, but play it safe. Use a condom, get new partners tested, get yourself tested regularly. Your body is your pleasure thing. Consider it in your decisions and make sure others respect it.

7. It Can Overshadow Tenderness
“Sometimes when we’re so focused on sex, we forget that it also feels really amazing to just MAKE OUT.” I agree with this one hundred percent. I wouldn’t use it as a point in a list about how overrated sex is, or necessarily agree that making out like “horny teenagers” is really a tender, cuddly thing, but yes. Let’s bring making out, petting and all that third-base stuff back to the ball game, like, stat.

8. Morning-Afters
“Unless you’re in a relationship, there’s a chance that you may have to have an actual conversation with the person you boned. Sexual chemistry and mental chemistry aren’t always the same thing, you usually find that out after your second slice of morning-after bacon.” I don’t understand what kind of a passive idiot would impose this awkwardness on his or herself. It takes some grace to make an exit or kick someone out with decorum, but I’ll opt for rudeness over sitting around having breakfast with someone who makes me crazy.

This can also be entirely avoided by, you know, not sleeping with people with whom you can’t talk. Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying.

9. Sex Isn’t Always Amazing!
“Sometimes, he gets too excited, too fast, other times your rhythm is off, or your fumbling in all the wrong directions. The chances that you will be glowing with satisfaction 100% of the time are slim. That’s not reality.”

I have an aunt who always says, “life isn’t fair, get used to it.” When she says this, her husband always adds, “you’re gonna eat a lot of shit, so pray for a small spoon.” Their kid’s favorite expression is, “it is what it is.” No it isn’t, it is what you make it. Life isn’t fair or unfair, it is variables. Just as sex is a series of variables that largely depends on what you make it.

Am I missing the point? Am I not enough of a realist? Maybe. But let me tell you something–reality is the last thing I want in my sex. And guess what? If you approach it with that attitude, you can transcend reality. It’s all in approach, baby. Embrace it.

10. Your Body Isn’t Perfect
“We all have our insecurities and when you’re naked in front of someone, you’ve got to suck it up, or suck it in,” says the article. I’m going to defer to Sophia Loren on this one, because no one could say it better: “Sex appeal is fifty percent what you’ve got and fifty percent what people think you’ve got.” She’s right, you know. Besides, I don’t know about you, but when someone’s inside me, the absolute last thing I’m thinking is how not toned his abs are or whether his toenails are properly pedicured or his teeth need whitening or if the hairs between his eyebrows are under control.

So enough, go out there and enjoy some good, safe sex, will you?

International Quickie Day

November 18, 2009 Homework 2 Comments

cosmoAs a woman, I’m impressed by endurance during sex. But I have to confess that there are times when a quickie is far more suitable.

These are crazy busy times, after all, sometimes, we just want to take it to go.

Problem? I find that the art of the quickie has nearly been lost. So we here at Sex and the 405 have decided that today is going to be International Quickie Day and we’re all going to practice this fine, nearly lost tradition.

The instructions are simple: just do it. Don’t wait for the time or place, the sunset or the next glass of wine, just freaking do it.

A few positions to get you started (excuse the names and heteronormativity–it’s Cosmo. We tried doing our own but we don’t know if you understand hieroglyphs and Nerve’s stuff is MIA):

Stand and deliver: standing, to be done up against a wall.

The Hot Rod: leg raised, with man entering from behind.

The Lusty Leg Lift: standing with a leg up over his shoulder.

Sofa Spread-Eagle: on a couch, spread your legs until you’re level with your partner’s penis.

Slippery When Wet: standing, he enters from behind.

Have at them, but remember–a quickie is less than ten minutes.

Woman With Medical Condition That Gives Her 300 Orgasms A Day Finds Man To Satisfy Her!

November 17, 2009 Health 1 Comment

Extra! Extra! Leave it to The Daily Telegraph to get you with a header like that.

The Telegraph recounts the story of Michelle Thompson who thought, until recently, that she was simply too demanding for men to keep up with her sex drive. Turns out she has Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome, or PSAS, which sounds hot, until you read in-depth.

First documented in 2001, PSAS is spontaneous and persistent arousal, unrelated to any feelings of sexual desire. Arousal caused by the syndrome can last for days or weeks at a time and can be so intense as to completely disturb the life of the afflicted. Orgasm only provides temporary relief–if any at all.

In The Telegraph‘s piece, Thompson employs the appropriate levity and no time is spent going in-depth to get a sense of what it means to live with PSAS.

Dr. Irwin Goldstein, a professor of surgery at UC San Diego and the head of the Sexual Health Program at Alvarado Hospital, is one of the few researchers studying PSAS today. In an interview with ABC, he described it as: “it’s spontaneous, intrusive, and unwanted genital arousal consisting of throbbing, pulsing or tingling without the person’s sexual interest or desire.”

Dr. Goldstein estimates thousands of women suffer from PSAS, but the actual number is not known because so few seek a doctor’s help — and most doctors do not know about it.

“Every lecture I give on this, there’s always smirks in the audience: ‘Oh I wish my wife was like this.’ These are professional physicians,” Dr. Goldstein said. “And I said, ‘No, no, you’re, you don’t really want this. You do not want your wife to have this, please.’”

Thanks, Telegraph for helping perpetuate a myth.


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That the site doesn’t take measures to protect user content and has shown incompetence or negligence in regard to user privacy, all the while prohibiting victims from warning others about predatory behavior creates an environment where it is nearly impossible for members of the community to take care of themselves and one another. By enabling FetLife to continue espousing a code of silence, allowing the spinning self-created security issues as “attacks,” and not pointing out how disingenuous FetLife statements about safety are, we are allowing our community to become a breeding ground for exploitation.

Why You Should Vote No On Prop 35

Should people who benefit (parents, siblings, children, roommates!) from the earnings of “commercial sex acts” (any sexual conduct connected to the giving or receiving of something of value) be charged with human trafficking? Should someone who creates obscene material that is deemed “deviant” be charged as with human trafficking? Should someone who profits from obscene materials be charged with human trafficking? Should people transporting obscene materials be charged with human trafficking? Should a person who engages in sex with someone claiming to be above the age of consent or furnishing a fake ID to this effect be charged with human trafficking? What if I told you the sentences for that kind of conviction were eight, 14 or 20 years in prison, a fine not to exceed $500,000, and life as a registered sex offender?

Pretty and Calls Herself a Geek? Attention Whore!

If you are a woman, you might be given a chance to prove yourself in this community. Since there is no standard definition of what a “geek” is and it will vary from one judge to the next anyway, chances of failing are high (cake and grief counseling will be available after the conclusion of the test!). If you somehow manage to succeed, you’ll be tested again and again by anyone who encounters you until you manage to establish yourself like, say, Felicia Day. But even then, you’ll be questioned. As a woman, your whole existence within the geek community will be nothing but a series of tests — if you’re lucky. If you aren’t lucky, you’ll be harassed and threatened and those within the culture will tacitly agree that you deserve it.

Cuddle Chemical? Moral Molecule? Not So Fast

Zak’s original field, it turns out, is economics, a far cry from the hearts and teddy bears we imagine when we consider his nickname. But after performing experiments on generosity, Zak stumbled on the importance of trust in interactions, which led him, rather inevitably, to research about oxytocin. Oxytocin, you might remember, is a hormone that has been linked previously to bonding — between mothers and children primarily, but also between partners. What Zak has done is take the research a step further, arguing in his recent book, The Moral Molecule, that oxytocin plays a role in determining whether we are good or evil.

How to Avoid Pissing off a Stripper

Let’s talk about the strippers. Whether they like to be half-naked or not, whether they enjoy turning you on or not, there’s one thing they all have in common: they’re working. Whether you think that taking one’s clothes off for money is a great choice of career is really beside the point (is it a possibility for you to make $500 per hour at your job without a law degree? Just asking). These women are providing fantasy, yes, but that is their job. And as a patron of the establishment where they work, you need to treat them like you would anyone else who provides a service to you.


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Sex and the 405 is what your newspaper would look like if it had a sex section.

Here you’ll find news about the latest research being conducted to figure out what drives desire, passion, and other sex habits; reviews of sex toys, porn and other sexy things; coverage of the latest sex-related news that have our mainstream media's panties up in a bunch; human interest pieces about sex and desire; interviews with people who love sex, or hate sex, or work in sex, or work to enable you to have better sex; opinion pieces that relate to sex and society; and the sex-related side of celebrity gossip. More...