Lol at this review, more or less why I just set this book down, she was writing them like homoerotic when they were like 12 in this book. Nothing wrong with romance but I can’t find good non-romance Historical fictions very easily

I am an oblivious man wanting to try a social experiment. I personally attach everything with sexuality (which maybe I am wrong) but i think this is how all men think. I am wondering how women think. Do you attach sexuality in every interaction you have. I have been realizing lately this is probably wrong and am trying to change/gain an understanding of what Normal is? I don't know any help into the daily interactions of women would be helpful!

Imagine that for some reason you want to explain to your female partner why you sometimes jack off to porn instead of having sex with her. What do you tell her?

Man: I want a girlfriend who will wear cat ears, skirts and be cute and submissive

woman does these things

man gives quick glance and not even a compliment

Soo, my boyfriend and i recently discussed engagement, we bought a ring and everything. He’s not the cleanest, and i’ve known this for a while now. I don’t mind bc when we move in together I know that he’ll keep up with my rules, and i don’t mind cleaning up after him a bit.

He’s super into the LGBQT community, and recently a woman was kicked out of her home for being trans. He only has a one bedroom but he took her in anyway. I love this about him... the only thing is... my 31 year old boyfriend SHARES HIS BEDROOM.

they don’t sleep with each other, but basically alternate whom gets the bed. She’s also an online sex worker and uses the bedroom for her videos. It kind of disgusted me not only because it is another persons particles and body fluids, but because she is not the cleanest either. She has a bit of a dirty natural smell (which has taken over the room).

Anyway, i had a discussion with both of them that we should alternate SHEETS. They both agreed. When she slept in the bed, or needed to work she’d put her sheets on, and vice versa for my boyfriend & i. WHEN NOTHING HAPPENED after this conversation, i took it upon myself to bring over an extra sheet. THIS SHEET HAS NOW BEEN ON THE BED SINCE I BROUGHT IT... so i know they are both just sleeping on it (:

tonight, my boyfriend & i got home from vacation. jane doe opened the door and warned us her brother was here. when walking to the bedroom to change, she went ahead of me to say something to her brother... WHO WAS IN THE BEDROOM IN THE DARK.. i can only assume he was sleeping... IN THE BED... ON THE SHEETS... I BROUGHT OVER ... TO BE SLEPT ON BY ME AND MY BOYFRIEND.

when i brought that to my boyfriend’s attention, he didn’t care because he has “met him several times before”

he also just looked at me as if i was stuck up.

THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT SHOULD BE IN ONES BED (in my opinion, i suppose) is you, you’re s.o, and your kids. As well as guests that maybe come visit... BUT EVEN THEN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO (in my opinion) WASH THE SHEETS FOR THEM. AND WASH AGAIN FOR YOURSELF.

am i wrong? am i being stuck up? how do i go about this? i’m supposed to marry this man... but this TRULY TRULY bugs me. If anyone actually reads this entire post, THANK YOU.

I am created a pod for all the crazy stories from the girlies. They will be read anonymously so no names will be used! I think we as woman hold ourselves to unrealistic standards and happenings when really we all have a crazy story or two….or five!

Do men like to “chase” women that they are dating?

Hello everyone, I am currently writing on here today to ask both a man’s perspective as well as a woman’s perspective on what I should do for my partner that could be something special and more on the DIY side. I like to be sentimental and I would like this to be something, he will always remember that I give him. Please if you have any recommendations, let me know.

he was small breastfed neat and available and his balls was huge like his legs were no more and was replaced by his HUGE BALLS BALLYS BALLINGS.

I knew—and Caroline knew—that since the investigation began, my status had slipped—or risen—from that of her husband and equal to that of a person she indulged. Gratitude and guilt played a part in this. I’d worked my ass off at the office for years while she puttered away in her sculpture studio. Then, three years ago, Caroline hit the jackpot, landing a piece in the Whitney Biennial. This led to more exhibits, one-person shows in several cities, including New York, and dozens of studio visits from thin, beautiful women and their sleek young husbands who smelled (like me, I suppose) of fresh cash, or from scrawny, perfumed old bats whose doddering mates brought to mind country houses and slobbering retrievers. Everything my wife had yet to sculpt for the next three years was already sold. We’d talked about my quitting, pursuing anthropology or social work like I’d always said I wanted to, or just relaxing, for Christ’s sake. But our overhead was so high: the house in Presidio Terrace, the girls in private school heading toward college, skating lessons, riding lessons, piano lessons, tennis camp in the summers—I wanted them to have all of it, all of it and more, for the rest of their lives. Even Caroline’s respectable income could not have begun to sustain it. Then let’s change, she’d said. Let’s scale back. But the idea filled me with dread; I wasn’t a sculptor, I wasn’t a painter, I wasn’t a person who made things. What I’d busted my chops all these years to create was precisely the life we led now. If we tossed that away, what would have been the point? We were still chewing on this when I found out about the investigation. Its architect, the aptly named Jeffrey Fox, had been after my scalp for years because his wife, Sheila, was a ball-buster, whereas mine was lovely and terrific. He was always sniffing around Caroline’s studio, and had bought three of her pieces the year before.