Stoplight Theory

There's a fundamental problem between the sexes when it comes to having the sexes: As popular television, the '50s, and hearing about your mother's chronic "headaches" may have led you to believe, we're very rarely in the same mood at the same time. Which can be good, or bad.

Men are kind of like stoplights when it comes to being in the mood for sex. There's "HELL YES," there's "You can convince me," and then there's "Get the fuck away." You can start a man out with "You can convince me," and get him to "HELL YES." It's all about waiting your turn and abiding by the rules of the road. Or, in this case, head. (You decide which.)

Women are not like stoplights-- we're like taxi cabs. Either our light is on, or our light is off. There's no convincing us to flick it one way or the other once we've already made up our mood. So when a woman's light is on, and as plain to see as if we were actually holding a neon sign above ourselves that read "Open For Your Business," in the iconic words of Sugarhill Gang, jump on it. Because when a woman is closed, she's closed. There's no changing her mind. Unlike with men, there's no amount of ego-stroking or caressing that can make her change the way she feels about your chances for that moment. Keep in mind, for a week out of every month, we're bleeding, and there are also the nights we eat or drink too much or just aren't feeling all that sexual. Even I sometimes wind up not feeling all that sexual. I've been working lately on the whole not-getting-drunk-and-having-sex-thing, and without that cushy fog of inebriation, it's true what they say: it makes you feel better about yourself, and when I'm not thoroughly convinced by the beer goggles that I am slammin', I'm winding up a lot more in the "off" camp than in the "on" camp.

This is why it sucks for you guys but why we women think men are great. There has to be a moment in every guy's life when he realizes that the "no"s that used to come when he reached down to shimmy the underwear off of the girl he'd been grappling with for the past half-hour have changed to silent, unquestioning "yes"es. At this epiphany, there must be much celebration. Girls, thankfully, never got through that. When a woman wants to have sex, she can usually convince her partner it seems like a great idea. (Reason #324 it's great to be a lady.) However, on the flip-side, if we can't convince you to turn on when we are, it's like the Great Depression of 2010. There is much hair-tearing and emotional rending. In short, it really sucks (invisible) balls.

If you worry about mixed signals and accidents, it can get confusing. But what it basically boils down to is that you have to catch us when you think we're "on." And basically, if you think we're on, it's probably because we are, and short of posting it on the evening news along with the traffic report, we're doing everything we can to communicate this point to you. So, don't wait for the next-- make like it's 3 AM in Manhattan and raining cats and dogs, and hail us down.

XOXO

Close Encounters from the Girl Kind

What are the five most awkward or nerve-wracking situations a girl can get herself into today? What are the things that make us lose sleep at night, or break into cold sweats at sweltering house parties? When are the times that you can actually see fear in our eyes like the look that a guy gets as he walks up the front steps of his date's house for the first time? (Always thought that was a hilarious and telling moment to watch.) Here are the top 5 situations that a group of women I polled at work agreed on as the things that we worry about the most, and the quick, sweet fixes for them. You're smart, you're pretty, now how about being a little less awkward?

Situation 1: Close Encounters of the Girl Kind

It's always awkward when you bump into a girl who used to see or sleep with the same guy that you're seeing. There's always that implicit understanding of who's doing what or who's done whom. I'm nervous and defensive by nature, but I learned quickly that being a bitch gets you nowhere-- it's always better to smile, say "hey," and ask them how they're doing. The thinking is that if you're nice, it's hard not to like you-- if something is still going on, they'll feel worse about it (believe me, I've been on both sides of this one), or if it's all over, it's always easier to concede defeat to someone you actually like. Make sure you always smile, wave, or say hi first. Ask them about something going on in their life. Be interested. Your confidence will shake anyone with lesser confidence off, and appears as if you're perfectly in control of the way things are, even if you're not. This can also be called "gesturing," "peacocking," or "being alpha bitch."

Situation 2: Hold The Phone

Even Ron Jeremy agrees that when someone he's with is texting constantly, it makes him, King Dong, worry about the presence of another dude. “If I see men’s cologne in a girl’s bathroom or if she is texting constantly, it’s a big turnoff." Same goes for women. Nothing makes me more morbidly curious than a cell phone vibrating on a nightstand at 2 AM. Maybe your dude friends are insomniacs too, but I doubt it. Maybe it's because I'm under the general persuasion that since bars close at 2, that's a late-night drunk booty call, because, let's face it, we've all been the one sending that text, but honestly, nothing makes me feel less likely to get in the mood than wondering what the fuck is going on and if someone else wants to be in my place on my side of the bed. So...if I can be cognizant enough to either tell the other men I'm talking to to stop texting me past midnight, or to turn my ringer and vibrate OFF, I really feel like for peace of mind and in an active effort to not kill the mood, it's not too much to ask that other people do it as well.

Situation 3: The Rag's a Drag

I think we can all generally agree that when you're turned on, you're turned on. For men, this isn't much of a problem. For women, Mother Nature has other plans for us a week out of every month. Some women don't mind having sex while they're menstruating, but for others, it's a definite "no." Unfortunately, biology fucked us ALL over, because when a woman is ovulating or during her week long of Bloody Sundays is when she's at her most attractive. Our faces get brighter and shiner. Our hips swivel more when we walk. We smell better and our hair is softer. And, to quote my drunk-ass self, we have "luscious tits." Understandably, men find us attractive. So, how do you turn away a dude who wants to be all up in your business when you're closed for business, without having to go into the gory details and make a pick-up a bad B-rated bloody slasher movie? Simple-- tell him that you'd love to, but you already have made other plans (for that night if it's not too late, like at 1 AM, or for the next morning, like a breakfast date), and then tell him you'd like to make a rain-check for another time. This implies that you're interested, yet not flaky, and are open to things happening...just at another point in time, like when Trojan has replaced Tampax as your best friend. Actually, in cases other than that time of the month, the sandwich of "I'd love to, but I already have plans for early tomorrow morning...can we make a rain-check?" is a winner. Memorize it. Practice it. Use it.

Situation 4: Don't Mention The War!

Speaking of sending 2 AM texts... So you sent a text you maybe shouldn't have. It was late; you were impaired; you were lonely; your vibrator had broken. You wake up the next morning after being either ignored or turned down flat, and you kinda want to kill yourself, or at least relinquish rights to your phone and your snatch. Rather than taking a vow of chastity, there's an easier and less sucky way to remedy things: Just don't call or text again for awhile. People forget things easily over time, and even if you were coming off as presumptuous or needy, NOT being in contact like it ain't no thang for awhile will rectify that view. Give it a week, live your life, do your own thing. Buy a new vibrator. Next time you see or talk to the text's recipient, act nonchalant, like it never happened and you, too, have experienced mild amnesia. Be like John Cleese in Fawlty Towers-- "Don't mention the war!"

Situation 5: Bringing Up Exey

Sometimes, you just can't help it. Sometimes, you talk about your ex. Sometimes, it comes up in conversation-- they ask for more information or about where it went wrong, or, like me, you get people confused and end up looking at your current S.O and saying, "Are you the one who slept with night lights, or are you the one who's afraid of roller coasters?" Yeah. It can get a little awkward. Possibly MOST potentially awkward, however, is the fact that the memorial tattoo I'm planning on getting shortly partially includes the last name of a guy I was romantically involved with for awhile, though first and foremost, we were close friends. Things like that, however, shouldn't be hard to explain. You should be able to say, "I loved him, and I lost him, and this is my way of honoring his memory." If someone doesn't get that, then they're a jackass. What can be harder, however, is when the person you're seeing asks you, "Was that the best sex of your life, or what?" When this happens to me, I'm honest. I keep very close tabs on what I consider the best sex I've ever had. I don't suggest this approach to everyone, however. What usually is better in this situation is a non-committal "mmmm" or an "of course!" if it really was the best sex you've ever had...with them. Sometimes, white lies are fine. Generally, people know the best sex of their life when they find it. Lying doesn't cover anything in that aspect.

XOXO

P.S-- For more advice for anything from what cute flats to wear at the office to how to be a better friend, visit Molly at smartprettyandawkward.com.

Train Wrecks and Re-Doing Old Mistakes

"It's not good for me, but I want it."

It's probably the motto of my life. Everything, nearly everything I prefer the hard way, be it jobs, plans, or men. I have been known to end relationships that were "too easy." I've also been known to completely scorn the conventional way of doing something because it's too tried and true and lacking in excitement. But it's perfectly fine with me if I turn my life upside-down and bassakwards going after something slightly dangerous, more than stupid, and highly unobtainable.

"Sometimes I feel like my friends are my teenage daughters," I told my mom the other day. "They're doing all these things that just aren't smart, and I want to help them so bad, but then I realize they have to figure it out for themselves in order to learn anything. It's just so painful."

My mom lived through her 16 year old daughter cohabitating with a 24 year old dude. My mom knows where I'm coming from, and has put up with much worse. My mom said the same thing that she said to me when she watched me barrel out the front door with overnight bags: "It's their train wreck, and they have to figure it out for themselves."

We can see a friend's train wreck coming from a mile away and preach and preach and preach until we turn red and run out of breath, but when it comes to our own ongoing mistakes, we're deaf, blind, and dumb. Why can't any of us get out of our own way?

I have a theory. And it goes like this: Secretly-- like how we'll pour over our pores for hours behind the safety of our bathroom door, or how we believe that curling our hair and using hairspray makes up for not washing our hair-- we like it that way. I'm not 100% happy unless I have something to mull and churn over and over and over and over and over again in my head, like a washer of self-destructive tendencies on spin-cycle. And I've been told more and more recently that other people are exactly the same way. Maybe the perks that came with this highly-evolved human brain are just too prone to being used for obsession, over-analyzation, and drama than good.

Oh, and as for that whole "learning from your mistakes" thing? Bullshit. I'm still re-making the same mistakes. And I'm still just as happy trying to rectify them, the hardest ways possible.

XOXO

Playing With Boys

I have two traits that can be extremely useful in meeting men: When I want to be, I can be extremely charming, and I am what could be called a "guy's girl." I generally tend to like men-- it's easy to be in their company; I'd rather chill with some of my boys than have a girl's night. I think it's just the level of energy-- women, as a general rule, require more energy to keep up with than men do. This is one reason that I can understand why a man would rather be single than have a girl. This is also another reason why I hate being stuck with needy men.

A good indicator of this is someone who tells you 4 times in the span of 20 minutes that "you're a real chill girl, you know that? I really like you."

And then, my friends, is when you know it's GAME. OVER.

Last night was one of my friend's birthdays. We got to her place over an hour late, and walked into a mixed bag of people-- some familiar faces; some not. Normally, when out and about, especially with people I don't know, I'm quiet and more reserved than I am with say, my circle of friends. But last night? It was like a switch had been flipped, and I came out swinging, feisty, and quirky, climbing on top of a dresser to touch the textured ceiling, and begin my hostile takeover of the men from a bird's eye view. Last night, with some wine lubricating me, it was like I was playing jacks with men-- by the time the ball dropped, I wanted to have as many as possible in hand. And this worked, apparently, because I landed not one, but two.

...That may not have been the best metaphor I've ever crafted, but you get the point-- juggling men. One had green. The other showed up and had a dog. I traded stock real fast after literally burning through the first. As I hopped over the porch railing to get down and play with the dog, leaving my smoking buddy on the other side, I remember saying, "You have a dog? I'm your new best friend." I have never said I was extremely loyal to anything with testicles.

"So, how was your evening?" Alli asked as we walked back home.

"I have no idea what got into me," I told her.

"ME." She's right-- it was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Normally, Alli's the out-going, friendly, flirty one with strangers, and I'm standing somewhere in the back, rolling my eyes, going "When he's blowing your phone up, I'm going to be saying 'I told you so'," and passive-aggressively drinking myself out of conversations-- you know, that move where people take a sip of their drink so they don't have to answer you as their eyes scan the room, looking for some way out? HELLO. I may not be the most optimistic, equal-opportunity dater. I was a part of receding-hairline-affirmative-action once before, and when I got home, after the sauvignon blanc wore off my eyes, I realized there is absolutely no way I can forsake, as I called them, "those thick, luscious locks you can fist your hands in." (Bachelor #1.) Or a vocabulary that extends beyond the words "bro" and "right on." (Bachelor #2.) So while I may have had a productive evening, it ended up this morning as a wash.

And this is why meeting people and dating makes me long for the good old days when every. single. thing the guy I was with for actually over a month did drove me fucking nuts and to chain-smoke. Because despite the "thrill of the new," there's nothing better than someone's old quirks that you know and are used to. I forgot how hard finding someone you actually like is.

Fuck.

XOXO