(NB: This is the last sucio blog ever. I need to broaden my horizons.)
I would like to expand upon my post from yesterday regarding Yelp! I didn’t mean to insinuate that the exchange of information is a negative thing. Rather, as a writing student, I’m definitely all about transmission of words and opinions. I just dislike the fact that people use these review sites to such excess for things like bars and restaurants, which are, in my opinion, about the experience of randomness, of chance, or human interaction and the intangible beauty of combining friends and food and drink.
However, I’m all in favor of Yelp for a service like a mechanic, or a plumber, or even a printing center, which are things that you don’t want to spend time testing out and taking chances. I’d like to know if the tattoo parlor I’m going to uses hygienic needles, or which of the eight dry cleaners in a one block radius is not going to turn my riches into rags. In a big city, where your friends and family are scattered, it’s helpful to know what’s good in your neighborhood from people who actually live there.
But let’s be honest for a minute. While it’s great to find a top-notch tailor or a fabulous photographer, what most people really need is stellar sex. And this is one thing you cannot get advice for on Yelp. I propose that Yelp add a tab in which users have the ability to rate their various sexual experiences. A “sex-ion,” if you will. I’m not talking about a call girl service, prostitutes, or house boys; what I want is to know that the guy I’m talking to in the bar, with whom I’m wasting precious minutes of my quickly-fading youth, is ultimately going to be good in bed.
Before you argue that this is counterintuitive and contradictory – if I’m anti-Yelp for eateries, isn’t this even more of an intimate experience, and should thus be based on trial and error? – I’ll reiterate something I wrote yesterday. I have never really had a terrible meal; never have I ever eaten in a restaurant and immediately thrown up. This cannot be said about my sex life. I have found myself in many a situation wherein the presentation was phenomenal, everything smelled delicious, the outer layers tasted fine, only to arrive at the spicy tuna in the center of the roll and find it rotten, terrible, and vomit-inducing. Some things can be compromised, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
The idea struck me while chatting with a friend and realizing that we had both slept with the same guy at a certain point. While this sort of realization can be slightly awkward, there’s an element of reassurance as well. In general, we’re stuck sharing our sexcapades with people who can’t fully understand the specifics of our particular situtation, and while there is a universality to sex, there are certain things that would merit the opinion of someone with a deeper knowledge of the exact incident or issue. Did he kiss with a little darty tongue? No? Maybe it was me. Did he do a creepy moaning thing when he was about to come? Yes?? Didn’t you hate that?!?!
There are still some people with integrity left, those monogamous marriage types. There are those who prefer to reworking old fashions and flames, going back to an old lover, making a bedpost notch deeper as opposed to adding another one. But I do think that, as a culture, we trash around. We are a culture of hoarders; we are a culture of whore-ders. I think it’s good; I’m all about the stigma being removed from spontaneous sex. I believe in the magic of the moment. Hell, I get caught up in the moment so often it’s a surprise I can even walk (not actually true these days, much to my chagrin, I just liked the metaphor).
So here are some ideas for the Yelp Sexion. This is not comprehensive, but alive, a work in progress. I’m not talking about physical appearance/body/height/etc because this is all very subjective and it’s what’s on the inside, or what’s going on inside, that counts. Ideally, reviews would be posted immediately after copulation so that the specific memory of pros and cons isn’t outweighed by that fuzziness that develops two hours after, when you forget exactly what happened and you just want to brag about the fact that you got laid.
There’s a very fine line between not enough and too much. Though foregoing foreplay can lead to a sub-par experience, overkill can be creepy and/or start to feel perfunctory. I think females often have guilt surrounding random hookups and sex in general, and think if they kiss for a little longer, it makes it more relationship-y. It also just starts to feel pointless. Personally, if I’m in yoga and there’s a guy with black hair, green eyes, and arm tattoos in a foreign language, I’m on the verge of an orgasm already. I don’t need my hair stroked. Clitoris, yes. But my hair, no. Though some people do need a very long time to get riled up, less can often be more; a few passionate kisses and the pressing together of bodies is often sufficient.
2) Oral Sex
Short of nuclear war and everything Romney-related, nothing’s more terrible than a bad bout of oral sex. As a female, I would rather remain celibate till the end of my days than have a shy tongue tickling around my inner and outer labias like it’s Seurrat putting the finishing touches on a pointilism painting. From what I’ve heard, a male must protect his pecker from malevolent molars of mujeres who just don’t know what they’re doing. This is such a key zone, and can make or break an encounter. We need to know.
Did it last an amount of time that was conducive to your achieving an orgasm? If an orgasm was not attained, was the experience pleasurable from beginning to end? There’s nothing worse for a female than coming after 10 minutes and then getting fucked through the body out the mouth for another 40. Guys, did she have an orgasm and then pretend it hurt, leaving you with your rocks in a bind? Ladies, did you even realize he was inside you? Yelp that shit.
4) The Goods
Though all human parts are equally beautiful in their own way, it’s nice not to be surprised. For example, thinking to my own youth, I would have loved to know that not all stereotypes are based in fact (I went back). Maybe, for you, bigger isn’t better. Maybe you’re a fan of hair down there, maybe you prefer a cleared-pit cooch. We never know until it’s too late. I say we save the guessing for Christmas morning and help each other demystify, well, each other.
5) Living Situation
There’s nothing more misleading and irritating than getting to someone’s one bedroom apartment and finding out that they “have my buddy, you know, he crashes on the couch sometimes…for the last four months…” Pointedly telling someone you have a one-bedroom apartment without mentioning your living room doubles as Sleepyland for your itinerant bum of a friend is basically lying. Another classic is the shared studio: “He’s passed out drunk; he’ll never hear us.” I don’t care if he’s in a fucking coma; when I have a threesome (seriously, how has this not happened yet?) I want all participants to be awake. Let us know if that sick UES apartment is also home to her parents. Don’t forget to mention if his bathroom is a bucket in the stairwell. And I’m not saying to give out addresses, but this should make it so no one in a Williamsburg loft ever has sex again, and thus, just maybe, they will migrate back to wherever they spawned.
6) The Sex Itself
Positions? Engagement? Toy usage? Creativity? Some people prefer aired traditional approach, others think outside the box. Did it work for you?
You bit her nipple and she loved it. He did this amazing thing where he sucked your lip and grabbed your ass at the same time. He was a great kisser, she cried out dirty phrases in iambic pentameter. There was a carton of pregnancy tests in her closet; he had a Post-It with his Valtrex prescription number taped up next to the Menu for Number One Hunan. He came in your mouth without warning; she gave the best head ever but may have sharted. In short, the Yelp Sexion is no-holds-barred. Let us know.
I’ll synthesize all this with an example, a creative non-fiction review in which I’ll use myself as the critiqued so as not to offend any of my past partners:
“LMG. 26, Leo, fits all bad characteristics of Zodiac sign. Average height and weight, reasonably attractive, evidence of yoga practice in the legs and thighs, but stomach seemed a tad bloated, possibly due to drinking problem? Insisted on protection, even though I told her it resricted blood flow; was slightly belligerent on this point. Also refused to let me put on prophylactic myself, but rather extricated it from my hands and opened it with her teeth. Though the dominance was slightly infuriating, though the overall production was undeniably sexy. Was very active, shunning the missionary in favor of woman-on-top positions, though she didn’t seem to mind doggy-style. Vehemently refused to let me stick it in her ass. Gave a great blow job, and I loved going down on her, though I basically had to pry myself out of her legs against her will. Borderline too energetic, made me run to Duane Reade for a second box of condoms.
She was a little too loud for my taste, not just during the sex, but after as well; kept going on about these fake homeless people in Tompkins Square Park and whether or not I thought she should try the Master Cleanse, whatever that is. She didn’t want to stay over, and refused the cab fare I offered her, claimed that taking a cab in NY is pretentious and for pussies.
Overall, I’d definitely do her again; I’d just make sure she’d worked a double and had exercised so she fell asleep quicker. Rating: 4/5 shiny vaginas.”