February 28, 2007
February 25, 2007
If you sleep with some, you are a slut.
If you don't sleep with some, you are frigid.
If you meet someone for a drink an don't fuck him, you are a cock tease.
If you say No politely, you are being sarcastic!
If you don't accept advances, you are stuck up and need a lay!
If you understand a 'non-veg' joke, perhaps you are up for talking any shit.
If you don't understand a non-veg joke, you're pretending and are a prude.
If you show your cleavage, you want everyone to see you have boobs.
If you don't show your cleavage, then you are a fucking feminist.
If you get drunk, you are do-able by anyone.
If you don't get drunk, whatever is your problem girl, learn to chill out!
If you talk to a number of men, you are a player.
If you don't talk to a number of men, you are a bitch who well, needs a lay.
Yes honies, many a times a Lay is the answer for 'fixing' a woman's 'problems'. But hony, sweetiebum, my possum, just ANY lay does not do.
If you announce to the a woman you are good in bed, you probably aren't and therefore need to talk about it.
If you run your hands up a woman's leg -- without her having touched you even once, and a hand-shake is not touching -- Moron, NOTHING is happening.
If she says that she does not object to sex but is not thinking sex at the current moment, she does NOT want to sleep with YOU.
If she says her current no-sex stand has nothing to do with you, she definitely does NOT want to sleep with YOU.
If you tell her you find her really hot and she changes the subject, she knows you are leading to sex and is not interested, in YOU.
If you proposition sex and she says she wants to be friends, she is interested in NEITHER with YOU.
Sigh. When a woman refuses sex, or to hang out with you, or to go drinking with you, insists you should meet in a group... she is not only NOT interested in sex with you, she is probably not even interested in you.
Yes, many women need a lay to set their heads right. And I sincerely subscribe to a good lay a day keeps every fuckin problem away... BUT darling, honeybun, sugarlips and my extreme sweetness, the operative phrase is, a GOOD lay. :)
Even women are VERY sexual -- they just dont want to sleep everything. And the best lays -- regarding MEN -- are the men who DON'T go propositioning a woman the first time they meet. Men who DO get laid are the ones who wait and who enjoy a conversation with a woman as much as they enjoy cunnilingus. The man/men women want to sleep with are confident and that does not mean pandering their goods or their Long Lasting Powers at any given chance. Guys who get girls, LOVE girls in toto and not just their pussies.
First rule of getting/ bedding a girl: make her feel MORE than just a pussy. Because like every guy has a dick -- and you need more than just a dick to stand out --- every girl has a pussy too. If you make her feel like just another fuckin hole for your dick to get into....you might as well turn your dick around -- provided it grows that much! -- and shove it up your arse.
This post is NOT for all men...only to the arseholes who think they might be the solution to a woman's problems. Sigh. When a girl tells you that she wants to know you for the thinking you do with your brain and not the thinking you do with your dick...it is a fucking compliment. But then oh, most dickheads wouldn't understand that.
"God made men and women go totally crazy over each other and yet completely not understand each other. God has a sense of humour. -- Friend
It' funny with puppies, one they are all small and cuddly and I daresay, innocent; and then suddenly it's a little monster that's tearing your clothes, sinking his little pointy teeth into everything and humping everything that's in sight. The first time I caught my pup humping a friend's elbow, I was in shock and denial. My toddler had become a teenager. :(
And then when he tried to hump my leg I was heartbroken - despite his upbringing, my pup was behaving just like a randy man - (try and) ride everything you can lay (your eyes on). And you realise that from gradually-descending balls, the balls are THERE. One day not there, one day there! And the poor pup is confused and running around nuts as the hormones begin to run havoc in his canine system. Who teaches them, tell me, to suddenly stop squatting and peeing on the carpet to raising a leg and peeing on the sofa-legs instead (and the pee fucking trickles into the carpet anyway!) So if you get a chewy when your pup is teething, what do you get when he is well, ball-ing?! Currently, the Li'l Monster sleeps peacefully, balls and all.
Suddenly appearing balls and suddenly attentive men. Two things that are hard to handle and when they happen together, it's a double whammy. No wonder I've been drinking all of last week - and I mean ALL of it. And the more attention I got - frankly, some of them were just curious about who-the-hell-is-she and one of them even said that what I write is not sex, hmmm - the more I realised that men are FUCKING complicated creatures. Or fucking COMPLICATED creatures. Firstly, if you (ladies!) thought that it is only us women who have mood swings...Hah! Men have them all the time and not just the ones who are manic depressive etc, even 'normal' men have mood swings. Like the ones women have: the inexplicable, out of the blue, really blue, what-the-fuck-happened-two-minutes-ago-she-was-fine type of mood swings. At least women can say that they are either PMSing or waiting for it to happen, what about men? Prostrating?
I am SO irritated. Just when I decided to treat men badly, walk all over them, treat them like sex objects (there is a volunteer list, which nearly took the sting out of this operation -- sneers at herself: and if I don't believe that a volunteer list exists, it would do real bad things to my self confidence, no? How's that for fucking honesty?), make them fall in love etc etc... I get to see THIS side of men that has me freaked out. I cannot treat the shites badly. SO MANY men seem to be fucking hurting and hurting fucking so bad that they don't know how to handle it. They don't believe in their mothers, their fathers, there's no friend they would trust enough to leave alone with their girlfriends, or a girl they'd fall head-over-heels in love with, or at first sight...or at all.
If they do their own thing it will perhaps be called gay...in this season or the next one. Ear rings were macho at one point, now you wear two and you're declaring your sexual preference. Or if you wear a diamond, perhaps a bisexual. Even headbands - that most long-haired stoners, bikers and basically anyone who wanted to keep hair off their eyes would wear - are considered wannabe and vain and even fairy -- just because Abhishek Bachchan wears them. Hey, what about Beckham, Ronaldinho, Carlos Moya and Agassi?! They can't even wear pink without wondering if it will look gay (and hey who said pink is gay? Rajasthani men wear bright pink turbans and they are yummy men!), or metrosexual or will declare they dream of virgins.
Men don't need a woman around to challenge their self-esteem etc; they are the MOST cruel to each other... and fuck they accuse us women of being bitchy! At least we don't pretend. Men and wild dogs have an amazing similarity: they are pack animals. You should see two-three men 'bringing down' another. It's always fun and jokes and words and oh, they s-l-o-w-l-y destroy the Chosen Target's self-esteem, pride, ego, whatever's the term men use for such things. Balls, perhaps? So they bait the Target, make him comfortable, you're-one-of-the-gang buddy and keep taking pot shots. Nasty ones that completely ridicule the other guy. And yet, the other guy will pretend it's not happening to him and the men will pretend they are not doing it to him.
And self-esteem issues -- is my dick too small, too big, no biceps, no abs, chest muscles that look like boobs, scrawny legs, no chest hair, too much hair, body odour, lack of interest in sports (you're labelled a nerd and a geek or a fag), too much interest in sports (and again you're closet gay: what's a guy to do?!); living with your mother makes you Oedipus and constantly changing girlfriends might make you Jack the Ripper... is my paunch too much? Then in anger of not feeling comfortable in the natural state of being they go drink more beer in protest. They want to look but they have to pretend they are not looking... and women talk about repressed feelings. It's genetic in them, they will look, but they can't because their girlfriend/wife/partner will have their arse for it.
Sigh. How the hell will I sleep around if I go feeling around? And that's the problem with women – too less fucking, too much fucking feeling – it's genetic too.
Post Scrap: One male friend's response to this Post – before even reading this Post – "So you think you are the first woman on the history of this planet to have unravelled the mystery of man?" Nope. Erm, mystery?
February 22, 2007
(or has it quite, as I write...?)
And I really want to take my mind off it all and have sex. Not make love, I don't want that, but have sex. It's funny accepting that, writing that... and perhaps makes me a little queazy too, because now I am aware of the fact that a lot of people reading the words ALSO know the face behind the words. (Deep breath) The fact that people 'know' what's on my mind does not bother me -- I write about it! --but what does bother me is the assumption that just because I write (that I want to have sex), many think I'd be up for Anything or Anyone. Don't people realise, that for someone THIS open, if she were interested, she would make it rather clear? If the lady is not taking hints, she ain't interested.
You go out looking for conversation and the dude nearly kills you. He propositions you so bad and so blatantly that you nearly choke on your puke, trying not to throw up on his face. Why can't some men take a graceful and polite no? Anyway, this is getting to be harping on the same ol' issue. And mindless word games are irritating me too. OH GOD. I am SO wound up right now, it is just not funny.
Maybe it's all the talk about bed-breaking sex I've been having all afternoon, or too much coffee, or maybe the two bottles of cheap Indian wine that are lying empty, or perhaps its one Jane too many... whatever, I am wound up. Taut, tight, high strung, whatever; been so for two days and it's irritating the hell out of me. In need of some SERIOUS...oh, I don't know.
There was a time when I, well, had this recurring dream...this very, crispy-clear picture of this very pretty green valley, with the aroma of camelias all around, tall trees with orchids growing in their stunted boughs, the mountains opposite covered with snow, the grass under my toes, green and moist with the rapidly descending fog... And I am standing there, looking at the mountains far, far away, with the breeze tickling the skin on my legs and thighs, with my hair falling light and cool on my neck and shoulders and just as I feel the first chill... a pair of arms that come and encircle me, and gently pull me into Him, and am held, and warmed, and held. Just that. I never see Him; but lord knows I feel him so intensely. So completely. It is almost a physical pain. The ridiculousness of my own dream.
I never saw anything else; never see anything else.
And yet I so, so crave for it. And it eludes me. I tell you, all bravado goes. If i could feel that, I would give all... I would fall on my knees, and lay naked and say and mean the words... and never want or try to be the ball-breaking, Strong Woman again. Because then - with Him - I would know it's okay to be weak because He would never use it against me. And it's so relaxing to let all bravado go, to let yourself feel. Even feel scared. Because then, with Him, you know you can feel scared but you will not be hurt, it's so much peace. Because you can feel at ease.
And it's so stupid to dream like that. So juvenile. Illogical even. You think that 14-year-olds think of... well, I am embarrassed as hell saying the word... Soulmate. Of just being.
Oh god. So much has passed and I am still fucking, sheepishly thinking soulmates and jackshit. I am STILL stupid.
Post scrap: And the Princess looked at the World around and saw everywhere, the evidence of the Big Lie and thought, "It's not true; mirages are never true and yet you wait...you eternal fool."
February 21, 2007
So one of my male pals dumped his girlfriend because she was too clingy.
Another dumped his long-time wife because she had problems with his little office affair.
Yet another male pal's going solo as his lady wanted to 'talk' about taking things further.
Fourth male pal dumped his girl because he decided there were many pussies out there, and of course all of them wanted his cock (rolls eyes).
Fifth male pal keeps going in and out...of relationships because he is never too certain about his women, "They cant be trusted," being his relationship philosophy....
Women DO have many faults: we want to hold on to our man; while we are 'thinking' he is our man even when he is having little affairs with little interns at work.
We can understand men needing to make 'good friends' (strangely always women) but get a little jittery when our men decide to spend a hell-of-a-lot time with their good friends.
Women are also at fault for not wanting to sleep around with MANY people...and when our man sleeps around with many women, we end up (indirectly) sleeping with those women too. And well, not all of us are lesbians.
And of course women like to talk; and usually love to talk about Where The Relationship is going or not going or should go... and manage to chase the guys away. Sigh, we women talk too much I tell you.
Sure women cannot be trusted: how can you trust a creature that gives up all her interests and is perfectly happy making the man in her life priority?
Yes, we women have a LOT of faults. We are jealous, bitchy, will happily stab our best friend in the back (then she aint the best friend, right?), make men cough up their hard earned money, disrupt a man's social life by insisting we go with them everywhere, want to spend as much time as possible with our men, etc etc etc.
We women even lose our dignity -- but we do it (mostly) for love. UNLIKE men, who lose their dignity or willingly give it up the moment they see a woman they want to fuck. MEN market their goods in a manner that can almost make you barf. In fact if they could, a number of men would probably carry a Powerpoint presentation of their Bedroom Prowesses wherever they went. And even mention it on their business cards. It's amazing how many men -- good friends, old friends, acquaintances, meeting-you-for-the-first-time-type -- ALWAYS think it imperative to tell you how good they might be in bed.
"I can do things to you that you cannot even imagine!"
(Not much, and you'd have to kill me if you're into necrophilia. What else? Make me laugh so hard )
"I dont have a problem, I am of course, well hung."
this was mentioned 17 times throughout whatever conversation was left. I still cant figure how he correlated well-hung with Jade Goody. And he mentioned it so many times that I was sure all 'it' did was hang in there. Tsk.
"Let yourself go, you don't know what you are missing out on..."
Raised brows. Trust me I know, and its not much...
"How can you turn away from a new experience?"
hahaha, what new experience, been having sex for well, 8 years now. Late bloomer, fast learner!
We have our faults, but at least we women dont hardsell ourselves. Shrug. Comments, abuses, linking me to porn sites, everything is welcome. Hit me!
February 19, 2007
"Oh my god, you speak Queens English! Even we British dont speak it" --- we know, we know.
"You have an accent, how charming." Right, indians DO have an accent, and it is not charming.
"So you learnt english in high school or university?"
"English is the first language in school?"
AND THE BEST YET...
"Your dog understands commands in English!"
Yesssir...in Hindi, Punjabi (he understands bhosedeekay) and Bangla. Since the cook is Nepali, i have a feeling he understands 'syano kutta' too.
Interestingly, also came across a profile on Orkut that seems to be the master of Hinglish/Pinglish/Confuselish or whatever-else you wanna call it...
(Supposed) Father of Pinglish (in denial though)
February 18, 2007
So I met someone rather interesting the other day;
We both were crazy about the movies.
Three days talking cinema, and some generous attention to my boobies;
He still spoke Bogart and Bacaul, or changed the flavour with Macaulay,
Now am a patient woman, but too much deeveedee gets me gray.
So that's when I took off and said,
"honey you got the ability, but show me the fucking compatibility."
Then I bumped into this hunk, who swore his ceevee boasted his libido.
Now that's an area of interest for me, so I chose patience and perhaps a dekho;
He said he liked my cleavage, I said I liked it too.
I said boy you got something to show as well,
Well. He boasted some more and thought THAT was swell!
So that's when I took off and said,
"honey you got the ability, but show me the fucking compatibility."
And the Dude who just LOVES animals...
And informs he doesn't glance at a woman's genitals.
And I thought, Hey that's cool, a nice change of pace,
From having to scream at men, my chest is not my face.
But then he did not believe in pre-marital sex,
And for once, I really re-considered my Ex.
So that's when I took off and said,
"Honey you got the ability, but show me the fucking compatibility."
So now am on the look out, with a trust in my own sensibilities;
Many can fuck and then some, but He, would need to have the fucking compatibility.
February 17, 2007
Presumptions, I tell you, they seem to be getting the better of me these days. Not mine, mind you, but fucking presumptions that have people have about you (as in me) JUST because they "have read your blog." There are people - and many of them - who think that "just because" I write on and in and around sex, I think sex all the time. Well, I do, but hey, I am a woman, I can think it all the time and yet think seven other things, or as many needed. It's not as if I am feeling myself up 24/7, my hand under my skirt of in my trousers as the case might be.
Yes, the monicker is Clit Chatting, but dudes, a chatting clit can be heard, you dont have to look under the skirt to SEE it talking! Funnier still is how everyone thinks you will write about them in "one of your sleazy pieces" and yet go on to tell you all gross details of their sexual lives (or dreams of it in a number of cases). And men do it more than women. Dudes... the first rule of conversing with a smart woman: actions speak louder than words. Most smart women follow a general rule: If the dude talks too much, unasked, he's either got a small dick, or herpes or erectile dysfunction or will turn out to be a woman-beating, womanising, closet misogynist. There are NO exceptions.
Unless I expressedly asked for it, why tell me how you'd like to doggy style that waitress right in the coffee shop? Or the Russian you did last night? THAT was one of the weirdest conversations... why do men think a woman would be amused by stories of his having treated another woman shabbily?
"S0-and-so? I used to pick her up at 4am to bring her home and fuck her." Talking about the woman who's been recently dumped.
"That Russian chick? I was so drunk I unhooked her bra in public and even slid my hands inside her pants..." Talking about a Russian whore his friends 'bought' him because he fucking cannot get a lay on his own merit, or even on the merit of his money.
"I can fuck a fat woman if she is cute; they are really grateful I tell you." Explaining how it's not called fucking-anything-that-moves, but has humanitarian reasons involved.
"I didn't beat her out of anger; my violence was my love for her." Talking about punching his girlfriend's face, throwing her on the ground and then pummeling her with fists and kicks.
"I am not a womaniser, I just don't want to commit to the wrong person." Talking about why he gets into long-term relationships knowingly, all of which result in the woman being dumped, heartbroken...and the breakup is always nasty.
Oh and most of the above statements are followed by: "But I am not going to be like that with you. You are different. This is different."
YAWN. And then followed by, "You don't mind my talking to you so freely, do you? After all you write on sex..." I raise an eyebrow, they hastily add, "And of course there is this certain comfort in talking to you, as if I have known you before..." At this point they ALWAYS look at the boobs and then your lips and try looking into your eyes deeply.
Presumptions: just because you are writing about shagging, you're up for anything or any prick. Presumptions: just because you are sad, you'd believe in any horseshit from every arsewipe.
Correction: when I write about wanting the Perfect Shag, I mean perfect, and I decide that.
Correction: the shag means a delectable man, not a delinquent.
February 12, 2007
The Princess strolled around the castle, without giving much thought to where she was going or why. Her anklets resounded against the marble walls, eerie and hollow. The toneless anklets of a dancer who had long forgotten how to move.
She wore a sheer robe of emerald green that fell from her shoulders to her ankles, draping her languidly. She wore no other adornment except the anklets...and some kohl in her eyes. And the pain that gnawed her from within. She couldn't understand it; it didn't hurt when touched; but it beat with a life of its own... that strange hollowness in her that was once her heart.
She sat inside the walls, entombed, hearing the World go on outside. Waiting, wondering if she would hear the one voice she waited for. The one voice she dreaded. Death with his gloriously cruel laughter. Death who had ensured it would never be the same again. The Princess looked at the dead roses on the floor. A gift from another... the promise of a beautiful possibility that lay withered, not able to withstand the Death-rot.
She loathed herself and the weakness of her void heart. She felt each embrace, each kiss sear upon her soul as an acid-etch that would never go. She had not wanted to share... she couldn't bear the thought of another touching her, her hair, her face, her neck...she couldn't breathe; and yet... she had. Death had laughed at her foolishness, at the stupidity of her thoughts, at the ambitions in her dreams. And yet he laughed at more. He knew... once you loved Death, you couldnt love another. And now Death wanted a new bride.
And the Princess loved and loathed...
Post Scrap: Living in sanity or living insanity - who can tell?
Of course, each time I decide to stay off the male species is when something nasty happens with a particular member I've been dating. If only the member didn't come with a man attached! So here I was, decidedly single for eight hours — 'decidedly single' is when you rule out ALL possibilities of ever going back to former — at a party with a safe friend (friend you dont want to have sex with) and arguing with another over MK Gandhi and whether his decision to take Nehru as a protege was perhaps his biggest mistake...
And then it hit me. The fact that having my brain mightily stimulated was doing some strange things to my groin. Least of it involved getting my panties in a knot. So there was Man One and Man Two, both of them extremely talented in their respective spheres (professionally, people, professionally) and both of them giving me the kind of attention and mental activity I like.
Now dilemma: I like both! Man One is very cheeky on sms but very shy in person, nice looking too. He has no hair on his arms! Somewhat putting off... Now Man Two, is fun in person and fun when talking too. But the first question he asked me was if I was having a scene with another man. The jealous-type or am I being paranoid? Then again, do i REALLY want to date anyone... rather I want to date a number of men, but its been made clear by Man Two, that if it's him, it's him.
First there was no temptation, now there is a double dose. What's a girl to do?
PS: The Princess looked at herself in the mirror and laughed, her boobs jiggling merrily, "When there are two sides to me, maybe they can both love differently?" She liked the idea, oh she liked the idea.
February 7, 2007
Clit Chatting debuted in print in the February issue of Maxim India (Page 18). Do pick an issue; and for those too lazy or broke, here's what the column says...
Ladies and Mental Men... Just Getting Anal About It
"You're pretty, pretty smart and have most things going for you -- guys should be eating out of
your hands. But then, you're too easy," said my once-upon-a-time-lay, sometimes counsellor, as we discussed another one of my seasonal break-ups.
"Ah, you mean sex on the first date?"
"No, no, that's okay if you two can handle it," he replied. I can.
"Hmm, do you think perhaps it's the cleavage... maybe I should tone it down a bit?"
After a glad eyeful, "Have your boobs shrunk? And no, if you can carry it off, cleavage really does not matter," he said.
One by one, Former Lay shot down my entire list of Things That Get You Labelled Easy; insisting my problem was as easy one. Right. Here I was, recently single, for the time-being heartbroken and far from finding the correct karmic connections, even my casual carnal ones weren't materialising into anything significant (like a good night/week/month of mutual pleasure). And THEN, it sort of hit me.
"Maybe it's what I do when with the guy that chases them away?" I offered, "Possible, no?"
After careful consideration, Former Lay asked, "Do you cook fr the guy, do things for him, make life easy for him and treat him nice?"
"Yes to all and more..." Finally we seemed to be getting somewhere...
"So that's your problem. Don't do ALL of that. As long as you do the basics right -- without being too easy -- guys would stick around."
"What are the basics without being too easy?"
"It all depends pn your answer to the next question," said Former Lay, being rather mysterious.
"And what would that be?" I asked.
"Do you let your man cum on your face?"
Clit Chatting is a firm beoliever in casual and all other forms of sex.
Maxim India, February 2007 issue, Ladies and Mental Men, Page 18