A recent discussion with Mr. Ultraparadoxical led to a discussion about oral sex [Pretty much all of my conversations lead to oral sex somehow... weird], during which I made some strong statements.  He responded by asking me to present them to you.

Allow me to begin by saying clearly: THERE ARE men out there who will suffer from none of the below afflictions; men who just sincerely enjoy pleasing a lady and who combine and balance their oral skills with a healthy dosing of, well, dick.

The conversation Mr. U and I were having however was about men who, after repeated sexual encounters with ample opportunities, have not yet tried to have sex (yep, the penis in the vagina kind) but instead enthusiastically insist on pleasuring her orally and then calling it a day. True, as a lady, this should sound nothing but blissful; all the orgasm and none of the effort? Huzzah! Alas, not so simple.

After wondering aloud in many-a-circle of girl friends, I have confirmed a few truths about these sorts of men, the “I just want to please you” type of men, and women far and wide agree that there are three conclusions to be had.  First, numbers one and two:

1. He has a small penis… and he knows it
2. He has and STD… and he’s waiting for the right time to tell you about it

For girls in our early and mid twenties they encompassed every reasonable possibility.  Not everyone in their twenties has seen as much ass as has Mr. U, and it’s perfectly rational to expect that some men (and women), having not yet come into their own sexual confidence and comfort, would feel slightly insecure about what they bring to the table.  [Special personal note to Mr. U:  I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from learning the term “Arby’s Vagina.”

If college age women catch wind of that euphemism, I think we can safely expect that dorm room sex will plummet and emotional eating will rise.]  If a man is concerned that he’s bringing something less than average to the table, it seems reasonable that he would try to keep it under his hat (if his hat were his pants) for as long as he could in the hopes that he wins the poor gal over with his stellar personality and his incredible oral talents.

Further, we’re a dirty generation. We are. If everyone who had the clap was actually clapping the volume would be profound [That begs the philosophical question... what's the sound of one STD clapping?].  And holy shit, imagine the cacophony if we went ahead and attributed a sound to each affliction! You there, with the herpes, yep – I want you to snap, slowly, like a beatnik… Christ, we’d all be deafened.  There are so many STD’s stuck to our collective genitalia that my gynecologist has switched from trying to scare the bejesus out of me about contracting one (circa 1996) to congratulating me profusely each time I again test clear (circa three weeks ago) because she just “can’t believe it’s actually possible to avoid them anymore.”  So, when you think about it, the numbers are against you.  Therefore, when your date seems to be undeniably avoiding touching his contagious parts to yours, an STD stall is a statistical reality.

These two reasons served me pretty well as a young pup. I would toss them at girlfriends who phoned out of desperate sexual frustration and we’d bat them around a bit, making guesses about whether or not he had a visible STD or a visible penis, for that matter.  But then our 30s began to approach, and with that, the men coming in and out of our lives began to age and explanation number three came into clear sights:

1. He’s impotent… and he knows it.

It’s not just grandpa [or your pre-op tranny grandma] who suffers from erectile dysfunction. Reports are coming in from all over the place of men in their 30s and 40s who suffer from the inability to muster up a useful erection (or keep one), and it isn’t all chalked up to Whiskey Dick [Also the original title for Herman Melville's classic novel until he finally settled on Moby Dick].  Maybe it’s all the garbage he ate in college, smothered in condiments and loosely labeled “food”; maybe it’s how much of his circulation has been going to his hands to help him crush it on his Xbox for 12 hours a week; maybe it’s something his therapist said, or a position in his yoga class.  Maybe he’s an emotional mess, or he smashed his cock and balls up at a rodeo and they’ve never been the same again.  Impotence seems to be on the rise (don’t hate me for the pun) as we age.  After enough reported cases my gaggle of girlfriends and I added it to The Essential Short List of Go-To Explanations.

There will be the occasional outlier.  You may stumble upon a virgin (Lord help you, or rather- him) who hopes keeping his penis in his pants will still get him a wristband at the pearly gates, or a married man who doesn’t think a little yodeling into the gully of a stranger counts as cheating on his (as yet undisclosed) wife.

Finally, allow me to quickly note why the all-oral-until-the-time-is-right approach is a failed approach: I’m not going to eventually find your gonorrhea as endearing as your dimples, no matter how many times you’ve gotten me off with your mouth.  There’s only one way to know whether or not I’m the type of girl who doesn’t have a size (or firmness) requirement, and it has nothing to do with romantic walks on the beach followed by champagne and gentle licking.  So, slip me some firm, clean cock to remind me that I’m not actually in the home of a highly deceiving dike [Be sure to check out Oprah's new autobiography, "Highly Deceiving Dike".. in stores soon!], and then go back to your business if you like—and make me pay for questioning you if you want (is there such a thing as angry mouth sex?).  I promise once I know I don’t need to complain or worry, I won’t, and then you can rightfully take your place as a God among men. See? Everybody wins.

“Statutory Grape”

This really has to be seen to be believed.  I saw this car with its back end bumping and the tunes blasting at about 5:30 on Friday afternoon.  When does the thought of detailing your car with the term “Statutory Grape” sound like a good idea?  Picture this:  your daughter is waiting for her new boyfriend and she sees this purple monstrosity rolling down the street and starts squealing “he’s here… he’s here!”  Do you A – Tie up your daughter, duct tape her mouth and hope that the car drives by.  B – Meet your daughter’s new boyfriend in the driveway and get the lowdown on when the next “freaknik” is going to be held.  C – Give your daughter a $30 gift card to Applebee’s and send her on her way then go downstairs and hang yourself with a note pinned to yourself saying “I didn’t know how to raise my daughter”.  Your call… choose wisely. *sidenote* By the way, if you saw this vehicle, Googled it and came to my site, drop a note in the comments with a story on where you saw it.  It will be my way of giving back to the community. *end sidenote*

Various Hobos

My hobo ignoring skills have really made a resurgence lately.  San Diego is really the best town in the world if you are a hobo.  Nice weather, decent people and a great dumpster selection make San Diego a prime hobo location.  Unfortunately there is a vacant commercial space right below my building and a bunch of homeless people that congregate there at all hours.  If I were to give them money every time that I passed by I would need to take out a small business loan to support them.  Sometimes hobos can not be ignored though.  Case in point:  my friend from San Francisco recently told me that she came across a hobo blowing another hobo on her walk home from work.  As disturbing as that is it brings us to a more important question – Is there anything that would taste worse than hobo-cock?  I spurred me to develop a new taste scale that can be applied in any situation.  It is a simple 0-10 scale of the taste of an object ranging from o (hobo cock) to 10 (homemade German chocolate cake).  I really need to get a show on Food Network with this.

Me in my underpants

That’s right… in my extreme laziness and my multiple large windows that face a busy street have made me an exhibitionist  At this point I don’t really give a shit but if you are strolling along downtown San Diego you can probably get a great look of a lanky blog writer who is too lazy to close the blinds… what… no takers???  Fine – you suck anyways.

Any good sights and sounds lately in your neighborhood?

I have been with the same company for a while and we  have 2 of these events every year.  Each time there are a few “incidents” that make me think “You gotta be fist fucking me – there is no way someone can act like that at WORK”.  Most of the time the offenders don’t even get a slap on the wrist from HR.  The most that ever happens is that a manager sends out and email before the next conference warning not to “make references about body size or shape” or “don’t move from “friendly” to “familiar”.”  we all laugh about it and wonder why managements sends emails to us like we are children… then the events happen and all of those rules are thrown out the window.    Here are a few of my favorite “incidents” to give you an idea of what I am talking about:

Pants Shitting

Apparently someone shit their pants at the conference and no, the guilty party was not an infant.  Yes, a grown man crapped hisself.  I don’t know all of the details of the story but apparently it culminated in the offending party calling one of his coworkers and telling them that they had to leave because he had the continence of a 95 year old man.  Unbelievable – the only way I could see this possibly happening is if he gambled and lost trying to let a fart squeeze by.  I can’t stress this enough – hold back that gas if there is even a tiny chance that you may let a slider slip out.  They may have to include that line in the “warning” email that they send next year.

Infidelity

This goes hand in hand with the Vegas comment that I opened up the post with.  I have never seen so many men and women cheat on their spouses as I have at these events.  It is like a swingers party except the next week the same chick that got “eiffel tower”-ed the week before sits a cube down from you every other day.  Awwwwwwkward!  It is almost past the point of shock when I hear the stories – there have been more than 10 different occasions where I have credible knowledge of people fucking around at these events.  If my wife ever thought about going to one of these I would shackle her to the radiator until the conference was over.  I would sooner have her go to an “ex-boyfriend convention” than to hang out with her colleagues for a few days.

Drunkenness

“Go get me a drink bitch” said the Sales Director to his employee.  This happens all the time – people get fucked up and start saying things that they shouldn’t.  In a conference in San Francisco that same sales director decided it was a great idea to swing at one of his employees, swear at guys from a competing product and tell our own CEO to “fuck off”.  That douche bag is still with the company – unbelievable.  In another “incident” one of the executives was wasted and fell down the stairs of the bar we were at.  He bit it hard and hurt his leg.  A bunch of his underlings quickly surrounded him and led him into a taxi.  It looked like when John Hinkley tried to assassinate Reagan and the secret service was dragging him back to the motorcade.  That same CEO addressed us the next afternoon at 2PM and made a comment that he felt it was too early in the morning for him to be out on stage.  Ummm, dickhead?  Its not 7AM… wake the fuck up!  The company doesn’t pay you millions a year to act like Snookie on spring break!

Overall Douchiness

There is one guy in my company who thinks it is very appropriate to get “jiggy” with it every fucking time music comes on.  His style can be described as seizure-like.  Everyone eggs him on though and he seems to enjoy himself.  I guess it is a source of entertainment but when I see someone grind on the humpbacked freak from the Marketing department it makes me want to gouge my eyes out.

“Euro Activity”

One last thing that I noticed at these events is that if you are a European at a US company you can pretty much get away with anything and it is blamed on their “Euro-ness”.  At the formal cocktail hour everyone was wearing slacks and suit jackets and some guy from Italy has jeans, a t-shirt and some expensive Italian shoes on and everyone is cool with it.  If one of the French reps would have lit up a smoke in one of the training sessions I don’t think anyone would have given a shit.  I need to work for a European company and then I can blame anything I do on being an ugly American – that would be sweet.

Do you have any “incidents” that you care to share with the group?

Throughout my dating existence I have been in many different types of relationships and each one has its own quirks and eccentricities.  Everyone is different and when those people pair up it creates unique circumstances and scenarios for the people involved making every relationship its own special entity.  Amongst these differences though there are similarities that an outsider can see working in all of these different pairings.  I have observed these similarities in my own and my friend’s relationships and most of the time I see someone’s actions and a song starts playing in my head – these are the relationships and their appropriate lyrics.  So here we go…

Top Nine “Musical” Relationships

The INXS (AKA – The “Never Tear Us Apart” Relationship)

These are the people who start dating and NEVER leave each other’s side.  If you are friends with one of the people and not the other it can cause MAJOR problems.  You basically need to accept them as a tandem and if you invite the one person somewhere you are inviting the other by proxy.  It is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich except the peanut butter (your friend) can be paired up with some kind of fucked up organic marmalade jelly that sucks.  If you want the peanut butter though you need to swallow it.

The U2 (AKA – The “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”Relationship)

These types of pairing usually happen in a relatively quick succession and is usually because your friend tries to insert their new love interest into their friend scene a bit too soon.  If you are not going to date this person for more than 2 months then its not even worth the hassle of introducing them to everyone you know.  It always leads to confusion and maybe even calling the new hook-up by a different name.  Its not my fault if you are dating a new dude every few weeks… don’t bring him around or have him wear a name tag!

The War (AKA  – The “Why Can’t We Be Friends” Relationship)

It is never clear if there is any sex going on with this set up.  Usually they have been in dating for a long time and it seems that they can comfortably date/live/hang out together and not have too many problems except that they have become almost like siblings.  I always feel bad for these people even though most of the time they look pretty happy!

The Journey (AKA – The “Don’t Stop Believin’” Relationship)

This is a cousin of “The U2″ except it is different because of its extended shelf life.  When you ask your friend “So… whats the story with Sally?” and he tells you that he hates her and she is a total bitch then a week later they are cuddling up with each other out at the bar then your friend is in this type of relationship.  The biggest thing with this is to reserve your shit talking about the other party until you are SURE that it is over.  Any premature trash talking can get you alienated from your friend when they get back together until they dump their significant other for good.

The Cake (AKA – The “Never There” Relationship)

You know your friend is dating someone but you never actually see them.  Usually the only time that you hear about them is when your friend is complaining about something otherwise they are a non-factor.  Their boyfriend/girlfriend either works a lot, doesn’t like going out or they are embarrassed about dating them… or maybe all of the above.

The Carpenter’s (AKA – The “Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear Every Time You Are Near” Relationship)

Everything seems to be going well and they are in a committed healthy relationship.  How inconsiderate of them!

The Nine Inch Nails (AKA – the “I Want To Fuck You Like An Animal” Relationship)

This couple is way too fucking lovey-dovey.  They are constantly holding hands and making out in public to the point where everyone is a bit uncomfortable.  Take it easy on the PDA Casanova, you don’t need to dry hump your chick when you are in line at the movies!

The Rolling Stones ( AKA – The “You Can’t Always Get What You Want…” Relationship)

This is where one party is way more powerful in the relationship than the other person and it leads to cringe inducing situations where one person completely dominates the other.  With these kind of couples the person decided long ago that the abuser had something that they could not do without and, to them, it is worth putting up with that kind of abuse.  It makes no sense to outsiders but when in this type of relationship you think any outsider’s opinions are worthless.  Save your breath on convincing your friend to break up with their lover – you are wasting your time.

The ELO (The “It’s Gonna Be A Showdown” Relationship)

These 2 secretly hate each other and should have broken things off long ago.  There is no known reason why they are still together.  Maybe it is too much of a pain in the ass to break up?  Maybe they don’t want to be alone? Whatever it is, they are passive aggressively hateful and even the smallest annoyances can set them off into thinly veiled insults.  If you go out to dinner with this couple get ready for some awkward silences and be ready to get the check and go home.

Did I miss any?  Which “musical” relationships have you been in?

I have already blogged about how Tiger could have avoided all of his troubles by adhering to a few simple rules.  It is too late for Tiger though, he has already shit his bed and now he has to wallow in it… or does he?  It looks pretty bad for him – his wife isn’t wearing her wedding ring, his sponsors are dropping him faster than Sammi Sweetheart dropped “The Situation” and each day it looks like  a new skank is coming forward to say that Tiger took her out for a round on her “back nine”.  It is an absolute media feeding frenzy that is probably slowly destroying his sanity – he is scrambling to save his sponsors, his career and his marriage.  My advice, Mr. Woods, is to let it all go – let it burn to the ground – and rise again out of the ashes of your former life as a new man to be know simply as… “T-Dub”.

Becoming T-Dub is not only a good option – it may be the only option.  If Tiger decides to try to win Elin back he is in for a heap of aggravation.  This next 1-2 years will be a constant stream of apologies and tucking his tail between his legs trying to get things back to the way they were.  She will outwardly hate him for a minimum of 5 years (and passive aggressively hate him forever) – after that he will be on one of the shortest leashes in the history of short leashes.  Everyone will have an eye on Tiger and if there is a hint of trouble he will be back under the microscope.  Then, if he decides to take another trip into whoreville and gets busted he is totally hosed – forgiving a guy once is understandable but twice for the same offense and people would be even more merciless than they are now.  This was obviously not an isolated incident – he either doesn’t want to be with his wife or he just needs other women in his life.  Instead of fighting the temptation embrace it.  If you lose some sponsors in the process that’s OK – you have more money than god anyways.

I envision Tiger’s new personae as the ringleader of a Rat Pack for the 2010′s.  He can be the new face of the night life in Vegas instead of the poster boy for how NOT to cheat on your wife.  Goodbye dockers and sensible polo’s – hello trendy jeans and a bad attitude.  Imagine if Tiger assembled a crew of other power bachelors that cruised around Vegas and other party spots like Sinatra and his posse did back in the day… tell me you would not be interested to hear about their latest adventures.  A sampling of Tiger’s potential crew and each person’s role: MJ (Aging Manther), Clooney (Hollywood Hookup), Chapelle (New York Connection) and Jon Daly (Wildcard).  T-Dub could take a few weekends a year to wreck other golfers on the PGA tour and keep up his rep as a dominant athlete then cruise down to South Beach and blow it out on Diddy’s yacht – then wash the stripper’s glitter off of and spend a week with his kids at home – everyone is a winner.

As for his sponsors – T-Dub need not worry.  Cadillac, Accenture and Gilette can all be replaced with more T-Dub friendly brands like Axe Body Spray, Bacardi and Trojan.  Problem solved.  Who cares if you make a fraction of the endorsement cash – at least you won’t have to spend the rest of your existence with your head hung low searching for absolution from your sins that you won’t receive from either the public nor your wife.  Seeing such a dominant sports figure be such a pussy is depressing – and it doesn’t (and didn’t) have to be like this.

This is really what Tiger SHOULD have done in the first place and probably the reason for his dalliances.  Elin was probably his first REAL relationship in his life and he got sucked into it like everyone does.  Tiger’s timing was just off – for everyone else that bubblegum romance happens in High School or College when marriage is not even an option for most sane people – however, Tiger was too busy being the best golfer in the world to enjoy single life like he should have.  Tiger had his “teenage” romance in his late 20′s and decided to pull the trigger on marriage which is a bad idea if you still want to fuck any blond with a pulse.  I would be miserable too if I married my girlfriend from college and I probably would have if that had been an option for me.

Alas this will never happen and Tiger will go through the near future not golfing, being hated by all women for cheating and getting his ass handed to him by his wife on a daily basis to try to rebuild his shattered relationship.  It doesn’t have to be this way though…

What do you think?

Don’t ask me how it works - I think It has something to do with Testosterone, Etstrogen or maybe Chlorophyll.  No matter how hard a guy tries there is always a percentage of him that at his core is an asshole and craziness just comes naturally to women (I know these are broad generalizations and I am certainly no relationship guru but hear me out - and if you can’t then go back to work… OK, still with me?  Good).   There is no way around it, that’s just how it is.  To make my argument a little clearer it would probably be helpful for me to explain exactly what I mean by “crazy” and “bastard”. 

The craziness in women generally comes from accentuating a certain feeling on a situation to the point where it defies common logic.  If someone has been dating a chick for a while obviously he thinks that she is attractive but if she does not feel attractive for any given reason and the guy makes an innocuous comment about her looks it could end in disaster.  It doesn’t make sense but it becomes a reality due to the “crazy”.  Men are bastards because they can take logic to such an extreme that decisions do not take into account the feelings behind their actions or what they can represent.  Every action is not some grand proclamation on the state of the relationship or an event that needs to be dissected to figure out its true meaning.  This is the central cause of all relationship problems and if people could accept this and take it into consideration when dealing with the opposite sex then the world would be a much better place.  Don’t believe me?  How about some examples:

1 – In college there was this guy who lived in my house that was a man-whore of the dirtiest kind.  He would sleep with anything (his 2 requirements, 1 – Pulse 2 – vagina).  He wasn’t bad looking  but to paint a better picture of this guy – he once passed out in my room (on the floor) watching football and he smelled so bad we sprayed him with Lysol.  Anyways, he was fighting with his on-again-off again girlfriend who he would hang out with whenever he had nothing else going on.  These fights were a regular occurrence and a few of my other friends and I would pretend to play Madden an adjacent room and eavesdrop on their fights.  It was pure comedy.  She would spout off nonsense about them progressing their relationship to the next level and he would just blow her off or twist the argument to make it sound like she was being a bitch.  It the classic crazy/bastard dynamic… she was crazy enough to rationalize in her own mind that this was a legitimate relationship and he was enough of a bastard to let her hang in the wind with these misguided notions when he would never be what she wanted him to be and he knew it.  She had this picture of him and how things could be that she held on to rather than logically looking at how he treated her and dumping the asshole.  Predictably their relationship ended in a blaze of glory with her storming out of the house after a especially vicious fight exclaiming “You don’t know what you want… but you want it ALL”.  Truer (or crazier) words have never been spoken.

2 – From personal experience I love me some crazy girl.  I don’t know what it is about them but there is some sort of attraction to the chaos that an especially crazy girl can bring to any situation.  I make most of my decisions based on logic and thinking things through from a calculated perspective so I need an infusion of emotion every now and again as a change of pace.  Since I can’t do it myself I look to the women in my life to do it for me.  It has definitely caused me heartache but I still go back (wait… that sounds illogical and crazy – scratch that, it kills my argument).  I have had a glass of water dumped on my head for no reason (I swear, was not my fault – ask the other people who were at the table innocently chewing on their sushi), moved to San Diego on a whim and broken up and got back together with a girl 8 times - all for the “crazy”.  It doesn’t help that the hotter a person is usually coincides with how much of a bastard or crazy that they are.  If a chick is smoking hot I am much more likely to put up with drunken nights of crying or lashing out if the makeup sex it good.

There is something about the “crazy” or the “bastard” in all of us that hypnotizes the opposite sex.  Everyone wants what they can’t have and in this instance what we can’t have is a different prism to view life through.  While this idea is not ALWAYS true it works most of the time – roles can definitely be reversed.  In reality it boils down to why we are so different as men and women and if we could only see those differences more clearly and adapt to them we would be far happier in our relationships.

Do you have any “crazy” or “bastard” stories to back me up…  or show me how completely-fucking-wrong I am?

There is something satisfying about going back through things I have written in the past and pulling out a nugget that I forgot and enjoying that moment once again.  I was just out on the couch lounging and talking with one of my friends who is about to leave town about random life stuff and everything seems so fleeting.  At one point we could not even remember what we had just been talking about.  What was important enough to verbalize disappears into the ether forever to never be fully realized at the same time in the same way again.  Even things that are “important” fade over time and become insignificant or forgotten.  I have a personal journal on my computer, a notebook where I keep my more general ideas, a book with the dreams I am not too lazy to write down and a box full of emails that I will never delete.  I have all of these things partly because of my dope addled brain but another part of me wants to mark the passage of time and attach some timelessness to it – though I realize even these thoughts are fleeting.

I wish I always had this urge to document what is happening with me because I would have accumulated some interesting stats that I would be still compiling today.  I was talking with a friend on the phone the other day and we both thought it would have been a good idea to tally every time we had ever fucked, and have that number going as a running total.  I’m not talking about the number of people we have slept with but rather the number of times we had actually fucked (or made love, for those more sensitive in the group).  Wouldn’t you like to know that number?  No?  I’m crazy?  That’s not crazy… having another 10 minute conversation arguing about what would actually constitute your Official Lifetime Sex Number (OLSN, patent pending) is a little crazy.  She said it would be any time either party came through penetration.  I think it should be more based on penetration and clothes going off.  So each time there are both of those activities, clothes coming off and penetration, that would be one notch.  I want those stats!  If only I were a little more forward thinking as a youth, I would be able to rattle off my number for you today.  But I digress…

I guess ultraparadoxical is an attempt to add another outlet for my obsession but in a more public setting.  As a society we generally attach more credibility to the things that more people are interested in.  I generally disdain that idea but in this case I want to try it out.  Instead of having all of these things to myself I want to pass time with some random people who happen to stumble across this site.  If you like what you see please tell your friends, or if you don’t have any friends get out from behind your computer and go get laid, you are never going to get your OLSN up just sitting there.

Seriously… you… yeah, you… the pasty looking guy with the stained wife-beater and sweatpants… don’t make me say it twice… go!