It’s a Sunday night. You finally decide to download that app “bumble,” which sounds like it should be an app for finding locally sourced honey but it’s not, it’s for finding locally sourced dick. Okay, men. You upload carefully curated pictures of you smiling, looking cute hiking, having wine with the girls, and/or one where you’re half naked on the beach 5 years ago when you were significantly younger looking because you fucking love the beach. And then you write your bio where you list your likes and dislikes that involve some nature scene and first world problem. You include your star sign and a series or random emoji’s for effect. Then you start swiping hoping to meet a cutie that seems better than the last thousand no’s you swiped. It’s like winning the lottery. You put in your entry hoping you get picked. But instead of hoping and waiting to see if you’ve been picked. You spend endless hours looking through all the entries to find out it was all a waste of time and maybe 6th place would do. You don’t necessarily want to be spending time or energy on this thing but you keep thinking maybe there might be someone I kind of like if I spend enough time on it. Like taking an online survey or trying to find a coupon that would actually save some money vs. the time you’ve already spent looking for it. It is mostly pointless and you know it’s pointless leading to a strange habit that just naturally occurs when you sit on your toilet but your like “eh, I already spent x amount of time on this, what’s three more minutes going to do?” And then you start feeling lonely because you start thinking about how easy it was to meet boys in college. And then you start loathing yourself because you’ve become this extremely vain person that swipes on a perfectly good human being without blinking an eye. You look back to the days before online dating and long for your ignorant blissful days before you’ve became a monster addicting to swiping no on complete strangers. Then when you’ve finally found someone who you can even remotely imagine having a beer with you finally exchange your real number and text for an odd number of days and set up a date/plan. You meet on said date and realize that you can’t leave even though the chemistry is dead as an uncooked potato because you’ve already invested so much time on this already. You make up some stupid excuse why you have to leave like your cat has cancer and you can’t leave him too long. And you leave feeling so stupid thinking online dating actually ever works. You delete the app but after a couple of weeks get really bored and decide to peak on it for a couple of minutes which leads to hours. You feel that power again of rejecting people’s faces without the in-person guilt. And then the cycle goes through again almost like having a relationship without the other person, you go through a wave of hope and disappointment only to find you can only rely on the simple things in life like your cat who thankfully doesn’t have cancer.
I don’t know if most of you are aware but millennials on average switch jobs more frequently than their predecessors. The new norm is “job-hopping,” where most of us stay with a job usually up to 2 years. I, myself have been working odd jobs since I was 13 so this concept is very familiar to me. I worked 1-3 jobs at a time while I was a full time student in college because it was a necessity for me. A job was just a job and nothing more. I’ve never even considered it could be more because it seemed unreal, a mere fantasy I only daydream about during work at jobs I could care less about. Currently, I have moved back in with my parents post-college and took my sweet ole’ time contemplating my next move. It’s pretty intimidating when you look around and see all your peers working at billion dollar company’s or going to prestigious grad school and you’re living with your parents…working as a waitress. Not that there is anything wrong with being a waitress! It just felt wrong because of what I was over analyzing in my head. I talked to some friends who were applying to grad school and convinced me that was the way to go. It’s easy, what else are you going to do? Woah. That struck a chord with me. I received a bachelors from UC Davis for Community Development and thought that I’d probably go into Nonprofit work. My brain didn’t light up when I thought about it but it was something I could use my degree for and I would help people at least. So I applied to nonprofit positions and received an offer from Americorps. It was a community coordinator position at a nonprofit in Sacramento. Great. I was actually really excited to work with good people and move back closer to where my college friends were. Everything was falling into place! I had a plan and it felt safe. I knew what my life would be like and I’d be content..I think. I was all set to go and told all my friends. I started looking into grad schools I would probably apply to after working there. Just like that the next 5 years was set. Fuck. No. Wait! Why is it like this? Is this it? I’m I suppose to just go along with it? I know I’m not any more special than the next person but I’m just supposed to be content with this? Naturally, my psyche went into a frenzy and I had existential crises which have been happening a lot lately. At this point I’m spiraling. Metaphorically people! Then I happened to be reading the book, “The Alchemist,” which is about a sheep herder that ends up at the pyramids to fulfill his “personal legend.” Basically the main character goes on a coming of age quest you all are probably familiar with if you’ve ever been exposed to any pop-culture or movies growing up. In my mental breakdown, reading this book gave me an epiphany. I wasn’t about to go on a quest like Frodo Baggins or anything but something in this book hit me hard. It mentioned that the heart is going to suffer no matter what so why not listen to it and suffer for the things that are going to be worthwhile for you personally. It wasn’t a light bulb turning on moment but a moment where in my crazy mental breakdown, there was something that made sense. I know it’s kind of cheesy follow your heart scheme but I had this moment of if I’m going to live a life with inevitable hardships and blah blah, I should at least make this shit count for me. It’s easier said then done, I know. We are constantly told what we should do and presented images of what would makes us happy as soon as we are born. It’s going to take some will power and some chutzpah to kind of silence all of this soft brain washing. So, in the words of Frost, “take the road less traveled,” or in the words of I “stop giving a shit of what you’ve been told you should do and just do what you want to do.” I have to tell that to myself everyday and fight for it because if I don’t then life will decide for you. So friends, take your fists and pound your chest and be bold, take a chance on yourself and give that secret passion a chance. Even if it ends up being some kind of weird ventriloquy. You never know where it might take you.
Here’s a story old as time. Boy meets girl. Boy charms girl and buys her drinks at his local dive bar/club. Girl accept drinks, flirts, and goes home with boy. The chitty chitty bang bang commences and boy cums. Scene ends. You’ve all heard this story or some version of this story before. I, as a fellow lady in training (meaning I don’t feel like a trained lady yet) understand the seemingly unchangeable narrative of heterosexual encounters. Whenever the lad hath cometh, the fun also seems to end. It is not surprising that I have met many many girls who have not even experienced the holy experience of climaxing. I don’t know if any of you are that surprised by this but I’ve heard this consensus from girls who are sexually active and participating in casual sex.
What’s the hold up ladies? There is a beautiful thing called masturbation, flicking the bean, saucing the taco, taming the shrew, a lil’ me time, and whatever crazy code name you come up for it. I personally did not learn about this magical process until I was about in high school. I know. I bloomed later than the rest. But, once I did start I never stopped. The more you spend time with your own body the more aware on what to do when there is another sexy body. It’s called educating yourself. There’s so much stigma around it, especially for females because we are not meant to be sexually independent according to society’s viewpoint. I say this is 2017 people. It is time we own our bodies and our orgasms. How you ask.
There are some methods I’ve learned over the years among many sexy encounters that I will share with you now. For one, know what you like. This may sound simple but it takes time and research to find the things that make you flutter over the ones that make you fall asleep. It might not even be anything physical. It might be the lighting of a room. Maybe hearing someone speak dirty to you in a different language. Or even having somebody else watch you. Who know’s? Seriously, there are so many crazy things out there it is probably impossible to try them all but start somewhere. Ask friends or ask google but be warned that google most times is unfiltered and people be freaky on the inter-web. A lot of aspects about what makes you orgasm is psychological so a good place to start is how you view sex and what does it mean to you? If it’s any other reason than sharing a fun, mutually beneficial, and pleasurable experience than maybe you should rethink the ways sex plays into the way you experience life and others. Even if you are into BDSM or something like that, both parties are encouraged to be pleasured. Another method is do the job yourself. Just because he came and presents himself as therefore useless, doesn’t you have to be done with. If a guy has finished and just lays there, I quickly get to work to finishing myself off. The guy usually is watching or trying kiss you or something of that sort. I know, it’s a pretty risque move but I’m happy at the end and usually the guy is pretty turned on with what you have done and most likely find the desire to go again. Trust me, I am telling you from personal experience. The thing about this move is that it’s not my way of saying that I don’t need the other person. For me, sex doesn’t always need to end in climaxing for it to be a pleasurable or enjoyable experience but there are times that I want to get off and it’s perfectly reasonable for you, yourself to know how to do that rather than the guy you met a couple hours ago. Also, do not be afraid to ask your dude or lady to spend time with your vjay. The vjay is as important as the D cuz without it Obama wouldn’t have been born. Just think about that for a minute and be empowered by the fact that your vjay is an almighty life force that needs to be honored and if your person can’t do that then hell, they are saying no to tasting life. Feminist, you say? Sure, but I just think expecting somebody else over yourself to get this particular deed done is pretty unreasonable. Real life isn’t a movie and we aren’t living 50 shades of grey people. Maybe there are but this doesn’t apply to those lucky bastards. Last method, but more of an advice. Be more open minded. To be less vague, be open to the idea that sex is changing. I don’t mean in a weird metamorphosis way but what I mean is be open to the thought that what turns you on can change. That is normal. What would be weird is if the Justin Beiber poster that turned you on when you are 12 still turns you on when you are 22 is pretty fucking weird. Nothing against the Beibs but girlfriend you need to move on to men. I would’ve never imagine all the things that I like today to have liked even a year ago. But as everything else that is growing within us, our sexuality grows too. Experiment and get on with your bad selves! But be safe! Don’t be having babies and diseases now. And use lube, you will thank me.
What is too old and what is too young and what is just right when it comes to dating somebody. Obviously, there isn’t one right answer but I can give you my honest insight. I recently started dating someone who is somewhat significantly older and it got me thinking about age. And when I say older, I mean this dude’s age goes beyond the rule infamous “Dating Equation.” The “Dating Equation,” refers to the rule of thumb where men are allowed to set their dating range to ages half of their own age added by seven and vice versa. I’m pretty sure it’s outdated but if you look at this fun graph below adapted from these two scientists, Kenrick & Keefe, it’ll basically summarize that women are constantly looking for older while dudes look for younger till the end of time…or till we find a fountain of youth.
This is obviously outdated and times have changed since then. Women are having fewer babies and are doing more yoga. I have seen older women who are more flexible than me in yoga classes! Just by observation, you can tell more women are working and choosing the lifestyle of financial independence and not relying on men for resources. To note, I’m only mentioning the traditional, heterosexual relationships because that is the one I have the most experience with. I promise I will get into sexuality later on.
Of course, there are many many ladies out there that are extorting money out of old, rich men. We all know it. They know it. Especially living in LA I have witnessed that this scenario isn’t even that taboo or out of the norm. “Sugardaddies,” and “Sugarbabies,” are quite normal in people’s vocab here. Naturally I grew curious and decided to see for myself. I went on “Seekingarrangements.com,” which I think is the most common online dating site for finding a “Sugardaddy.” With the intent of tickling my curiosity, I set up a profile page and decided to look around and maybe send some messages to men I felt were the least creepy. I kept my profile very concise and minimal and wrote that I was an adventurous student seeking a worldly, fun mentor. Lo’ and behold, the messages started streaming in. mostly guys 40+. All of them were unfortunately to my eye, unattractive physically. I don’t think I’m more shallow than the next guy but I think online dating makes everyone at face value pretty darn shallow. I would look at it here and there when I got bored just like when people swipe on Tinder only when they go on the toilet. At one point, I kept hearing the talk of “Sugardaddies,” all around and just like any good ol’ subliminal messaging it tipped me over to take some action on my curiosity. I decided to go on a date or two. The first guy I decided to meet looked young and somewhat attractive in his photos. He was a music producer who was seeking to have a girl meet him once to twice a week for hang outs. His profile also said he was under 40 which was a big plus for me. I decided to message him and he replied, “you’ll fit ;).” Hmm…I wasn’t quite sure what I would fit into but I went along with it and set up to meet. I couldn’t help but fantasize about a older guy like George Clooney who had a lavish place and would tend to my each and every desire. Hey, a girl can dream right? I wasn’t expecting anything or really hoping to like this guy. I just had some questions…unlike other girls who were out drinking with friends on a Friday night I was out on to get questions like a detective but sadly I’m just that strange.
That night, I met him at his place with nerves shooting up and down me the whole uber ride there. He lived in the ultimate bachelor pad, pool table and all. I told him I was nervous and had never done this which strangely brought up nostalgic feelings about the first time I did it. He told me that was better because he used this site just like Tinder. The night went pleasantly well and I actually connected with this guy. Long story short, I felt this newfound appreciation for older guys. I usually dated older by a couple of years or so but he was 10+ years older. I thought to myself, “hmm, I’m just that mature for my age,” and boosted my ego. It felt great! So, I perused that site again and decided to meet with another gentleman who said he was 41. He looked somewhat attractive in his photos so I decided why not. I met him at a beerhouse by the beach. To my dismay, he looked nothing like his pictures. Fuck. The number one fear of any cyberdater. But I didn’t let it faze me. We greeted and ordered some drinks. Exchanged small talk. He asked me if I would at least try once to fuck him to see if this could work because all the other girls he met seemed too much like an escort. And he would pay me. All of a sudden things became too real and I bounced out of there quickly as I could.
To all the T-bodies out there, be curious and try new things but there are boundaries and lines! I’m totally not judging anyone that does this but I knew this is where I drew the line..I haven’t been on a date through that site ever again because however curious, curiosity did kill that cat. Do have boundaries but do not let fear get in the way of things you want to try. Everything you can possibly truly enjoy might be on the other side of fear. This applies to any aspect of life.
I still see that first guy I met on that site and have really appreciated having an older guy in my life. I think when I was younger, dating significantly older guys were weird like when I was 19 and a 27 year old guy asked me out telling me J Lo and her beau were 8 years apart as well. It freaked me out and it bothered me that he was comparing himself to J Lo. But as I’m entering my mid-20s I realize it’s not that creepy and if you can accept the fact that Freud was definitely onto something that we can all expand our dating age gap.
Now listen, I’m not saying I’m a pioneer in turning 20 or anything like that. Mankind has survived and procreated during their 20’s many of years before I even became a speck of being. I’m here to say that the 20’s is like a rough wave and we need to remind each other that sadly, we are all in this cramped, broke, uninsured boat together. Here, on this e-manifesto, I welcome you all to laugh, judge, connect, cry, and cry some more with me as you will learn from the mistakes I made or just be entertained by all the, “D’oh,” moments I make (imagine Homer Simpson smacking his forehead here).
Alright, I guess I should talk a little bit about me…even though one of the things you should know about me is I hate talking about myself which society shames but it’s nothing to be ashamed about fellow introverts or humbled peeps. Okay, I’ll get on with it. I’m currently living at home with my parents after I graduated from college at UCDavis. OH MY F-BOMB. I know. I’m a failure. An “adult-child”, a “boomeranger”, a “failed fledgling.” I’m 24 years old and I’m sharing a room with my kid sister! Fine. She’s a teen which in retrospect is like living with a she-devil (No-offense but actually yeah offense to teenagers errywhere). This is probably a story old as time. I mean, I’m not waiting to get married off for cows or anything but many twentysomethings which I’m gonna start calling T-bodies can understand my pain and if you don’t I shall reveal to you what it’s like anyway. This will be my first myth busted! It’s not the end of the world. It’s actually the beginning which should excite you! Living with your parents after college where you had complete freedom to let your hair down may seem like a total bust. However, there’s probably not another time where you will ride out free rent. Woohooo! Which is better than free pizza, trust me. It’s true, when I first moved in with my family in Los Angeles I was a sad lil goober. Frankly, I got pretty depressed and found myself questioning myself and wondering what my purpose was every day. I kept trying to distract myself and wishing for Dumbledore to fly down and take me to Hogwarts. But I somehow managed to shake it off and get over myself to work my way to becoming a decent human being.
Nothing is permanent! It’s been 7 months since I moved in with my folks and now I’m leaving in 2 and it feels like those months flew by. What was I being so dramatic for? Just keep your head high fellow T-bodies and enjoy the free rent while it lasts cuz rent-control is like finding a unicorn.
So, I welcome you all to please sit back and kick your feet up while I lay out my insides to you, warts and all. I will try to answer all the questions that you must have all probably had (Mostly for my female friends because I am one) but were too afraid to ask or thought was too dumb. Like, “what the hell does heteroflexible mean?” “Is a vag supposed to smell like that?” “Does a 9-5 really kill your soul?” “When do I start to think about aging?” and more. I will primarily focus on sex, dating, and lifestyle tips during the early 20’s for women but will also talk about things like taxes from time to time. My approach will be to provide you with simple, efficient, unadulterated, and useful advice that I have painstakingly compiled through old-school trial and error. I’m saving a seat for you in this cozy boat, ready to take you on a wet ride 😉