If you are reading this then you have made the switch over to the new server. A lot of people were having connection problems at the old one.

Postscript: I moved too. Until the other roommate moves out, my creative genius is produced from a dining room table.

Interesting Dear Prudence letter:

I am a 21-year-old woman who married four months ago. I have been with my husband for six years and in that time grew to love him more and more each day. At this point, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. But he insists that we make love every day, and we have been doing that for years. I now regret that the passion I once had isn’t there. I feel like I am doing it just for him and don’t know how to approach him (it is a very sensitive situation).

The answer:

Suggest he pursue an exciting new career as a driller on an offshore oil rig. Or an astronaut on the International Space Station. On the surface, there’s nothing that unusual about a very young man with a willing sexual partner wanting to do it all the time. But there’s something in your account that smacks of compulsion?hasn’t he ever had a cold, been too tired from work or school, or just wanted to watch sports? … But if, in response to your request, he whines or bullies, then you need joint counseling?you can find referrals at the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy and the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists. (emphasis added)

Only in America would someone recommend a man go to counseling for wanting sex from his wife. Do you think when he got married he thought he’d face the prospect of infrequent sex while still in his early 20’s?

Back in July I was talking and dancing with a girl for a while, away from her large group of friends. If you can get a girl away from her group, you’re more than halfway there.

Towards the end of the night, one of her friends found her. “We thought you were dead!” The friend started crying and gave one of those hugs where tears would be left on the person’s shoulder. There was nothing I could do. My girl got dragged away by a group of girls who one hour ago were too busy shaking their ass to even realize their friend existed.

The “friends” are the only people in the universe whose mission is to prevent me from getting what I want. If I’m nice to your friends it’s not because I like them but because I need their lame stamp of approval since you are too insecure to make decisions on your own. In fact, I hate them and hope they die.

Okay, not die, but I curse them to at least becoming subway bag ladies.

For years I had a clean-shaven face and short hair greased with pomade. I did fine with that look but my generic appearance attracted generic girls: the vanilla white girl who graduated from a four year university to push papers in a cubicle. I got bored with them, and they probably got bored with me.

When I grew my hair out, I noticed that I would attract a different type of girl. The quantity didn’t change, but now I was spending time with art snobs, hippies, international girls, and emotional crazies. They are the type that tend to eat foods I can’t pronounce and hate either capitalism or American foreign policy. Conversation flows a little better now.

Looking like you just came out of the woods works because not every girl likes clean-shaven guys with short hair. Some girls like medium length hair, and some like long hair. The farther your look is from the mainstream, the less girls there will be to like it, but the ones that do like your look will like it with passion. And passion is important when it comes to sex.

Therefore, I’ve decided to lock up the bear-hunter look with long hair and a dangerous beard. If a girl likes this look then she doesn’t have a whole lot of options in the area: at my height there are only five guys in DC that look like bear-hunters but none of them have any game. So really I’m the only option. That means easy sex for me without ever having to wear a buttoned shirt with blue horizontal stripes.

I’m going to go buy a few boxes of condoms now to prepare for the winter.

There is an interesting article in the November issue of Details magazine that addresses the problem of women deceiving men to get pregnant. Quotes:

It’s not about trapping the guy. That’s kind of old-fashioned. Yeah, you want him to be into it, but there are other ways to get a guy to commit. If you’re smart and in a good relationship, it’s just about the fact that you want a kid. I see and hear people talk about it, and I understand. I get it and I don’t even think it’s that manipulative. It’s more like, ‘Hey, the timing is right for me. I got pregnant–oops! Well, it’s here, let’s have it.’ I think that’s more the way it is now than it was back in the day when you had to marry someone before you got pregnant. Marriage doesn’t matter now. (emphasis added)

Jody
got pregnant without telling her boyfriend

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Any guy with a heart and soul, and preferably with a job, once he sees the baby on the sonogram or hears the heartbeat, will melt.

Vicky Iovine
author of The Girlfriends’ Guide to Pregnancy

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She was like, ‘You know what? You gotta be a man. You’re gonna have to have a job 40 hours a week, and you need to support this child — this is your responsibility and your obligation.’ And I’m thinking to myself, like, ‘How is all of this my responsibility and my obligation when none of this was my choice?’

Jeremy
new father after girlfriend went off birth control without telling him

A few years ago I remember making fun of a friend for being so paranoid about this very same thing. He was dating an older woman he didn’t trust and would take home used condoms wrapped in toilet paper after spending time at her place. My experience since then suggests that he was more smart than crazy.

Guys, it’s simple: do not allow your sperm inside a vagina unless you are ready to have a child with the woman attached to it. Birth control or not, there is no amount of pleasure worth giving up reproductive control over.

If I got a girl pregnant right now, and she insisted on keeping it, I’d skip out of the country without hesitation. Since I’m very careful with my seed, any girl who gets pregnant by me is 100% using nefarious means and deserves no support or money for her deception. Send me pictures every five years.

I’ll be a father when I’m ready, not because a reformed whore is bored with her life.

I put up my current reading list up on the right column. I predict that I will get lazy to update it and pull it completely within a month or two.

I was leaning on the bar, in the middle of it all, when I spotted two Latin girls who weren’t part of the happy hour, getting a drink. It was a little dark but both of them seemed pretty cute; even if I got the “dud” I would still be satisfied. I said something to the taller one and after a minute she said to me, “Oh I read your blog.” I complained to her that I shouldn’t have to work for her attention if she recognized me beforehand, but inside I really liked the fact that I have female readers worth hitting on.

Overall there were as many non-bloggers attendees as bloggers. It was great meeting people whose daily visits validate our attention whoring celebrations. I noticed that some readers took their sweet time introducing themselves, and I understand because the blogger girls can appear to be a rowdy, crazy bunch. Even I can’t keep up with them.

I remember back in the day when people would come to the happy hours because they heard it was a meat market. And it was: at each one there was at least one new pair who would meet and end up banging. But all the couples who wanted to bang already did so now it feels like we’re all old friends, I guess. I think it’s safe to say that the incestuous phase of the local blogging circuit has come to a quiet end, replaced by the drunken phase. I await the orgy phase.

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Special thanks to co-hosts V and Sally.