Search Results
How Does Music Affect Your Sex Life?
By now, you’ve likely heard of Babeland’s Freestyle. They’re calling it “the world’s first music-responsive vibrator” because it allows you to DJ your orgasm by connecting it to your iPod. I haven’t tried it out yet, but I’m curious. It’d be nice to hand-pick songs for the perfect O. Laid back, sexy, mellow mood? Maxwell. Having a hot, heavy, All-Star sex moment? Kanye. Several months ago, I linked up with Babeland for partial-sponsorship of my site: They’ll let me test drive (free) sex toys and I write reviews to tell you guys whether or not they suck. I haven’t really taken advantage of it yet because I already have toys that make me happy — though I might check in about the music vibrator because it’s so different from anything already in my collection. If I try it, I’ll tell you guys about it. If you don’t want to wait for my review, feel free to get the toy now. (Shh! Here’s a coupon for $$$ off.) Yeah, yeah I know we’re in a recession. So, if $130 is too pricey, you can buy sex toys under $30 and/or read stuff I’ve written about getting cheap sex.
Hmm … Let’s get back to music. Although I like the idea of an ipod-vibrator pulsating combo to the beat of my favorite tunes, I have to admit I don’t typically play music while bumping and grinding with a guy. Seems like one of those goofy things that only happen in movies — though, yes, I did it once with “Boy #2.” (Longterm readers know about that blast from the past, new readers can google it.) Anyway. Ages ago, we were in his apartment sitting on the couch watching television and gobbling his homemade pasta dinner. When our plates were clean, he turned the TV channel to a blue screen digital station featuring random jazz artists and pictures of dudes playing trumpet. “Mood music,” he said and winked at me. It felt contrived, cheesy and distracting. A new tune would start and I’d think, “Um, I don’t even like this song and it feels awkward to make out to it.” Plus … Maybe I’m weird, but I felt oddly compelled to kiss to the beat. That, of course, was clunky and off. Anyway. Generally, I’d rather listen to a guy pant, moan and groan about how good everything feels. Seems more natural. Earlier this year, I remember reading a few news articles about lyrics + teen boinking, but I haven’t seen or read anything else interesting about the topic. Curious to know if any of you have thoughts about music and sex. As always, feel free to leave your $0.02 in the comments section.
————-
Photo credit: Yamamoto Ortiz
My Matchmaker’s Observation About Men
I saw my matchmaker over the weekend. As I mentioned before, I linked up with her because she’s a pal of my friend Julia. Over brunch, the three of us talked about my love life. Funny but I rarely, if ever, have conversations about things like: (1) what are the most important qualities in a mate; (2) what are my dealbreakers; and (3) how important is sex in a relationship? Granted, I wouldn’t go out of my way to bring any of this stuff up during a first date. Sitting across the dinner table, I’m usually all about getting to know more about the dude. Who is he? What makes him tick? What are his interests? Do I like him? Etc. Usually, he’s sussing me out, too. Based on that, we decide whether we’re worth each others’ time (i.e. is he someone I want to see again?). What gets lost in that interaction is this: Are we a compatible match for the longterm? Enter the matchmaker.
Michelle spent a lot of time getting to know me: my history, my past and dreams for my future. We talked about my views on religion, sex, relationships and monogamy. I told her about my worst heartbreak. (I still can’t tell that story without crying.) And, I filled her in on details about my hobbies: film, art, museums, travel and soccer. After the discussion, in passing, she said something completely unexpected: “You need a guy who’s an adventurer, a partner in crime.” We talked about a bunch of other stuff, but the “adventurer” thing stuck out most. Why? Because it never occurred to me. Some but not all of my corporate exes (Goldman Sachs, PricewaterhouseCoopers, ABN AMRO and other employees) were hardly known for their sense of adventure. After all, they built their careers on calculating and avoiding risks — not taking them. But, I always figured we balanced each other out: they were the yin to my yang. I had the inside scoop the all-male ballet troupe from Djibouti would be in town for the weekend; my exes remembered to buy the tickets and stick the date on the calendar. I brought the fun. They brought the foundation and stability. That’s not necessarily a bad pairing.
That said, my matchmaker noticed something I didn’t. During their spare time, my former beaus were more likely to surf bars & pubs with their coworkers than go kayaking, whitewater rafting, adventure traveling or off-road cycling. I’m open to new things, I bore easily and I’ve moved around a lot in different cities and countries. The idea of dating someone with a passion for life, love and adventure sounds really appealing. In fact, my vault of Manly Monday picks include: surfer Laird Hamilton, male Olympians, a wrestler, soccer players, motorsport genius Lewis Hamilton and footballer David Beckham. I dated a guy in New York (Boy #2) who ran marathons. I don’t like super beefy guys, I’m certainly not an athlete, and I’m not saying I need to date a jock. It’s just, you know, interesting the matchmaker noticed a trend in my preferences that I hadn’t noticed before.
So far I’m a fan of Michelle’s matchmaking process. She seems really thorough and she’s making an honest effort to know more about me. (Today, I sent her 1/2 dozen pictures of my exes so she’d get a better idea of my physical types — the men I find most visually appealing.) In a week or so, we’ll touch base with her again to see if she has any guys in mind. It’s worth mentioning I will NOT write any specific details about my dates. In the past, I’ve shared a bunch (perhaps too much) info about my dudes, and I’m not sure if that was a wise decision. It’s my website and I feel totally fine sharing info about me, but I’m not gonna share specific details about my dates. It’s not their fault I have a blog, right? Anyway. Michelle has successfully produced for others many dates, couples, one marriage and a baby. I’m not interested in a husband or kids — just a dude who sticks around monogamously for a while. As I told her: “I’m cautiously optimistic. If it works out and I go on a fantastic date or two, great. If I end up meeting a longterm partner, wonderful. If I meet no one, at least I gave it a shot.” Wish me luck!
——-
Photo credit: Image of Lewis Hamilton is from Wikipedia.
Life Is Neither Fair Nor Easy
God, I hate it when people die. Seriously, I do. Reading about Natasha Richardson’s skiing accident was so depressing because: (1) it was so unexpected and (2) she was relatively young. Sidenote: When I was 18, I thought 45 was, like, REALLY old. My how times change. Anyway.
So, lately, I’ve been really contemplative about “adulthood” in general: career choices, love life, finances, etc. If we’re friends on Facebook, you know my latest status update was something like, “Being an adult is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” Maybe I was naive when I was younger, but I really thought things were much simpler then. All people were good. Dreams were meant to be fulfilled. People who hung out with me chose do so because they liked me. What I got out of life / experiences / etc was 100% direct result of what I put into it. And, so on.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned not ALL people are good. Some people are just assholes with shitty little lives, and they’ll try to do anything they can to attempt to make you feel as horrible as they do about themselves. Hanging around them only sucks your soul and makes you unhappy. Some dreams (like hearts) — no matter how noble or how bad you want them — are broken and/or never come to fruition. And, sometimes, really bad things happen to really good people.
In my therapy sessions, my shrink and I have been talking about the whole “life isn’t fair” stuff a lot. I eat therapy up like it’s breakfast, and I’ve found some of the strongest critics of mental health / wellness are the people who need it the most. (See: “How to Find a Therapist” for details.) Anyway. Most of the times, my sessions are light & chatty like life coaching (i.e. What are my personal / career / financial goals and what life choices am I making to move me closer — or further — from them?) Sometimes, it’s esoteric stuff like: Why isn’t life fair?
On this site, I’ve been equally open about my successes and failures. I’ve lived in New York for approx. 48 long months. Almost exactly 1,425 days. And, quite frankly, many of them weren’t good. After leaving a fairly plush life in Chicago, I got fired from my NYC job shortly after I spoke to HR about an emotionally abusive boss who — after firing me — was eventually fired herself. (I wrote it off as karma.) I lost an apartment because I couldn’t afford the price tag anymore. Oh, and don’t even get me started on how I’ve had my heart broken so many fucking times it’s getting ridiculous. (Search: “Boy #2″ for the most painful one.) And, I think my lowest point in New York came when I was laying on my friend Bro’s bathroom floor alone, sobbing so hard my stomach hurt as I wondered: Why me? Why is life so difficult for me?
But … For each of my most pathetic days, I’ve had almost as many beautiful moments — on my own, with friends and with lovers — when I’ve thought: “I’m quite certain I haven’t done anything to deserve the amount of luck, fortune, wealth or love that’s been heaped on my life.” At the moment, my life is good. I have an awesome job, family and friends who love me and … here’s my favorite part … I’m slated to finish the first full draft of my book by the end of this month!!!!!! There will come a time again, I’m sure, when things won’t go so well for me. Granted, I haven’t liked the rough patches I’ve hit in various stages of my life, but I’m grateful for the lessons they’ve taught me.
This month marks the opening of year number five of “My Life in New York.” Yep: life. My heart goes out to Natasha Richardson’s loved ones — as many of us know, losing a family member is extremely difficult. Life is neither fair nor easy. Unfortunately, acknowledging that doesn’t make it any better; it just makes it what it is.
Twanna Hines Dot Com
I should’ve spent the weekend writing. Instead, I spent waaaay more time than I should’ve setting up www.twannahines.com. I bought the URL a while ago; here’s what’s up.
Okay, so, people come to my site for many different reasons. Some folks are regulars. You’ve been reading FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com since damn near the beginning. You know about my really hard unemployment days, the trip to London, Boy #2, the panty-sniffing Irish guy and a bunch of other stuff I’ve written about over the years. It’s like we’ve got our own funky brown chick “inside language.” For example, if I say “Manly Monday,” you know what that means. You’re regulars, die hards. And, I sincerely appreciate your support.
Each day, new people come here, too. You guys find me by googling different stuff or whatever the hell you do to arrive here. Some of you come back. Some of you never will. Other folks who drop by are ex boyfriends, old high school friends, people I knew from when I lived in The Netherlands, former coworkers and bosses and so on. You googled my name, found me and thought: “Oh my!” :)
For various reasons, it makes sense to separate out my general, personal online stuff from my blog. Twanna is Funky Brown Chick. Funky Brown Chick is Twanna. That hasn’t change. I’ve just got two sites now. Funky Brown Chick the blog is and always will be at www.funkybrownchick.com. And, if you just want “Twanna” stuff (photos, recently published articles, contact info, audio or video from press appearances, etc.) as well as the “what I’ve been up to lately” stuff, you can get that at www.twannahines.com. The blog is pink. My personal site is predominantly black and white.
You may have noticed the split is still in progress. Two reasons for this: # 1: I handcode, install, manipulate my CSS and PHP myself. I could pay someone to do it because that would take up less of my time, but I’d rather learn about how the web evolves by doing myself. I handcoded my first site in 1995 when I lived in Los Angles and taught folks how to make webpages from <html> to </html>. I’ve handcoded every site I’ve run since then. Hat tip and THANK YOU to WordPress for powering www.funkybrownchick.com. Big drippy kisses on my dear Jon Yongfook’s lips for creating SweetCron; I’m trying it on at www.twannahines.com and, so far, I’m LOVIN it. Smooches, Yongfook! By the way, hugs to all the web developers, producers, etc. who’ve created various themes I’ve stitched together (on both sites!) to come up with something that works well for me.
Oh, wait, shit, I said I had a second reason why www.twannahines.com isn’t done yet, didn’t I? :) Reason #2: I want your input. I constantly say “I’ve got the best readers on the internet” and I really truly mean it. So, as I break some stuff away from this site and move it over to www.twannahines.com, I definitely want to know if there’s anything that you’d like to see STAY here and/or ADDED to my personal site. Your feedback and comments, as always, are greatly appreciated. Email ‘em if you’d like.
C’est tout. Gonna write the Manly Monday post for today since it’s officialy Monday — albeit it only 2:31 am EST. After that, I’m going to bed.
Is It True That Everyone Has A “Type”?
I ask this question for two reasons. First, in bloggerland, I’m thinking about Mitch’s recent comment [on this post] that his type is “petite brunettes” as well as the Fake Doctor’s love of so-called “burritos” [Jewish women] . Second, in the real world, I’ve noticed that my friends claim that I only date the same type of guy. I wonder: Does everyone have a “type”? I don’t think that I have a type, I have four. By way of example … and because I’ve been known to be somewhat of a 31 Flavor Taster … I’ll compare my men to different flavors of ice cream. Here’s what I mean:
New York Super Fudge Chunk
Yummy, clean-cut, smooth black man from the big city. Think Kanye West. He’s sexy. Sure, everybody thinks he’s an arrogant ass, but let’s face it: the man is gorgeous and he is talented. Ahem … and, by the way, … yes, contrary to popular belief, I do date black men. It’s just that I’ve been licking and sucking the Choc Chip Cookie Dough flavor for the past 2 years.
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
White Guy with Brown Eyes and Brown Hair. Think George Clooney. Le Canadien, Boy #2 and most of my recent boys fit this type. NOTE: A variation of this flavor is the white guy with brown hair and blue eyes. Think Hugh Grant & Pierce Brosnan; equally as yummy as the Choc Chip Cookie Dough guy.
Vanilla
Think recessive traits. White guy with light blonde hair and blue eyes. Jason Lewis and Paul Walker. Even though my love for Paul Walker runs deep, of all of the guys that I’ve ever dated, only 1 was blonde. He was cute. VERY cute.
Dulce de Leche
Who doesn’t love a sexy, Spanish-spanking … oops, I mean Spanish-speaking man? Ahhhh, Winter 2004. Cold days. Hot nights. “Winter of El Corazón”. I had a small harem of 3 boytoys (consecutively not concurently, mind you) from Puerto Rico, Spain and Mexico. The hunk from Spain didn’t even speak English. Mucho fabulous!
So, there you have it folks. If I line up each of my ex boytoys, flings and boyfriends, they all fit into one of the four categories above. (Same well-toned body, cute face and winning smile — different flavors.) Who’s missing? Well, I’ve never dated a redhead, a man with salt-n-pepper hair, any guy with dirty blonde / light brown hair, nor anyone from the continent of Asia. In each case, it’s not for lack of interest, mind you. It’s just that it never happened. Hmmm … Two questions for you: (1) Do you think it’s true that everyone has a type? (2) What’s your type?
Men Don’t Like to Hear …
Last night. Oooh, this is a refreshing change. I’m standing at the designated rendezvous point, but Mr. Responsible and I aren’t meeting up for another 20 minutes. Go, Stolie! You’re not only on time for the date — girl, you’re early! This is new territory. Hmm … How should I fill these lovely 20 minutes? I start to wonder, “What do people who arrive for dates early do with themselves?” Then my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number. I figure it’s Mr. Responsible calling from work to say that he’s running late.
I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.” I know this voice. It’s Boy #2.
I tell him that I have to go because I have dinner plans with Mr. Responsible. He asks me to call him back later tonight if I get in at a decent hour. Goodbyes are said. The date with Mr. Responsible goes great. At the end of the night, I return home at a decent hour. But, I don’t call Boy #2.
Here’s the deal with boys: I think I just want to be alone. The cop is already out of the picture. Boy #2: I won’t call or answer his calls from now on and, when I see him, I’ll act as AWE suggests — cool, calm collected. Mr. Responsible is the tricky one. I like him a lot as a friend, but I’m starting to think think that he might like me as something more. Men hate the word friend. So, in my past, I’ve avoided the “let’s be friends” conversation all together. And, then, once I start dating a new guy, I hit the “friend” with, “hey, you have to meet my new boyfriend …” I know. I know. Not good. So, what’s a kinder, gentler way to tell someone that you only want to be friends?
HALLELUJAH: It’s Raining Mandrops!
I’m a single woman in New York City. New York is possibly one of the worst cities to live if you are a single woman because, supposedly, there are 3 women for every 1 man here. The odds are in their favor. So, NYC men tend to multi-task, multi-date. I’m not used to this phenomenon. I’ve never “dated” more than one person at a time … Until now.
Currently, I am semi-dating 3 boys. I’ve been dating Boy #2 for about a month; the other two boys are newer. If I had my choice, I would devote my entire heart, soul and full attention to Boy #2. But, at the moment, that isn’t an option. (No, he’s not married or otherwise committed.) So, when Hot NYPD Guy asks me for my number, I give it to him. And, when he asks me out, I go out with him. And, when he kisses me at the end of the date, I enjoy it. He is, after all, really hot. The third boy, Mr. Responsible, is a bit older. I don’t know how I feel about him just yet, but so far so good.
Given that this is my first time multi-dating, I’m a bit conflicted. I absolutely adore Boy #2, so dealing with him has been the easiest. I’m totally and completely honest with him: I’m only dating other people because you don’t want to be exclusive, but what I really want is to only date YOU. Things are a bit more tricky with the other two boys. QUESTIONS: (1) What’s the best way to tell Mr. Responsible, I like you as a person but, right now, I’m not sure if I want to date you romantically? (2) What (if anything) do I tell Hot NYPD guy about Boy #2?
- – - – - – - – - -
RANDOM FOOTNOTE: Look at the column to your right. No, look up. Yes, there. Under the chicken. In case you haven’t noticed, for your viewing pleasure, I have added a “Shortcut to the Boy Snacks” menu. Now, jumping directly to the Boy Snack of your choice is easier than ever. FunkyBrownChick dot Blogspot dot com: sharing tales from NYC dating life with all of humanity, one Boy Snack at a time …
Valetine’s Day & Stuff
All the foxy people of the Stolie Nation rock!!! Big huge, drippy, wet kisses on the lips of all who left supportive comments the other day. (By the way, I also wrap my boney-ass brown arms around the lurkers who read but did not comment. You know you love me!! And, I love you, too, babies.)
I’ve been busy sending out resumes and doing jobsearch-related stuff. I’ve also been following up with a couple of leads for temporary work assignments. (I need to do something in the short-term to get money coming in the door until I can find another full-time, professional job.) The next few weeks will probably be very difficult, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make it work.
The great news is that I am not leaving New York. I’ve been in situations as difficult or, in some cases, more difficult than this before. New Yorkers tell me that the first year in the city is the most difficult year. I believe them. I’m facing a few challenges at the moment, but life goes on. And, for me, for 2006, it will go on in New York City.
But, let’s talk about other news. Happy news. How about Valentine’s Day? Yesterday. I meet Boy #2 at his house when he gets off of work. He cooks me an amazing dinner and follows it with heartfelt words of encouragement … and a very, very pleasurable massage. The rest of the evening goes well, too. So, um, that was my Valentine’s Day. How was yours?
