Booo(.)(.)ooobs

The greatest news I ever heard was when guys started saying that they preferred a great booty over a great rack. "Thank god," I thought to myself, as I looked down and saw straight to my bellybutton.

Now, as a girl who is almost 25 years old and barely a 34A cup, I reached puberty in a time when everything was about the boob. I thought that the way to be cool was to have your tits pushed up so far they reached your ears, and I had convinced myself that when I was old enough I would get a boob job (of course, this would all be after I got my giant Russian nose cut down to a normal human size). However, I was only 12 years old at the time and after realizing that I was the only 7th grader who wasn't wearing a bra yet, I decided it would be a great and TOTALLY INCONSPICUOUS idea if I showed up one day wearing a padded bra that made me roughly a C-cup. So I did. All through junior high and high school I wore padded bras that made me look ridiculous because the rest of my body was built like an 8 year old boy, with the exception of, like my nose, my giant Russian ass and lovely size 10 feet that I had been forced to rock since I was 9 years old. Basically, if I stood sideways, I looked like a Picasso that Pablo himself looked at and was like, "What the hell?", before throwing it out.

When I got my first boyfriend the summer after 11th grade, my mom looked at me and said, "Alexis, if you keep wearing those padded bras, boys are going to be in for quite the shock if they ever try to stick their hand up there."

It was the only piece of advice that my mother has ever given me that has actually had a positive impact on my life.

The next day I stashed my padded bra in the back of my drawer and nervously clasped on one with nothing more than a cup thick enough to hide any slight nipplage. That night, a boy felt my boobs for the first time and there were no screams of shock or looks of confusion.

Success.

Now, it still took me awhile to fall in love with my little girls. A lot of my closest friends have large, fabulous, amazing boobs, and I always felt completely un-sexy when I was around them. But over the years I have realized that for me personally, my fun bags are freakin amazing. Seriously, I love my boobs. I love that I can lay on my stomach or cross my arms without them getting in the way. When I go bathing suit shopping, there is always a ton of bikini tops in my size because the majority of girls with my chest size are still shopping at Gap Kids. Don't get me wrong, on certain days I wish I could get some awesome cleavage or if I'm feeling bloated I sure could use bigger boobs to make my waist and stomach look smaller in comparison. But this is the body I was given and I'm cool with that. (I never did end up getting the boob and nose job).

Ok, so we've got the T down, let's move onto the A. Like I said before, when I heard that asses were catching up and possibly even surpassing boobs on the popularity scale, I was ecstatic. This is going to sound really weird, but I inherited my father's backside. My mother and I have absolutely nothing in common when it comes to physical traits; I am 100% built like the paternal side of my family. This has both its advantages and disadvantages because, like I said before, we basically go straight down with the exception of our nose, butts, and feet.

It used to be annoying when I realized that on the rare occasion that I wore a dress or a skirt, I always had to wear flat shoes or very short heels because my ass was so big that it would push out the back of the dress so much that it was about 4 inches shorter than the front. It wasn't a good look. But then, one magical night in June, a week after I graduated high school, I was spending some time with a guy that would soon become my second-ever boyfriend. We were going bowling and as I walked up to the lane, fully intending on accepting what was sure to be a gutter ball, I heard him say, "You have a great ass."

And that was the beginning of realizing that if I wasn't blessed with junk in the front, I could sure as hell work my junk in the trunk.

When I first started writing this entry, my intention was to explain the pros and cons of dressing slutty while out trolling for boys. But, (Butt! Haha?) I somehow ended up going on a long tangent about my own personal body issues, so I apologize if this was one of my more boring posts. I promise next week I'll write about the whole dressing-like-a-tramp thing. In the meantime, I encourage everyone to go out and grab a boob or a handful of ass today, whether it's your own or someone else's :)

T9 Gets Dirty

Back in college when I wrote my sex column, one of my articles was about Flirt Cheating. Flirt Cheating was a term that I put to the act of flirting with someone while you have a significant other. (Some friends actually had me add it to UrbanDictionary.com, so if you look it up you can get the whole definition). However, in this fancy little technological world that we live in, most of us end up hitting on each other via text.

Enter Sexting.

I'm sure you all know what sexting is, but part of my duty as a blogger is to explain any crazy terms I throw out there. So, sexting is when you suggestively text with someone, often telling them what acts you would do if/when you see each other.

So my question is, is sexting cheating?

My answer, which may completely sell me out not only as a girl but also as someone who has both cheated (back in my younger, incredibly stupid, self-conscious days) and been cheated on, is: Only if you get caught.

Let's lay out some situations featuring my two favorite fake characters from my old columnist days- Jack and Jill.

Situation #1: Jack and Jill have just started dating. It's been about a month and a half, so they're still in their honeymoon stage but are also nowhere near being in love yet and are still nervous around each other. If we're being honest, when you start a relationship with someone (unless you have known each other for years prior), the two of you are still essentially strangers to each other. So Jack is still picking up Jill for all of their dates and they're still asking questions about each other over dinner and while curled up on the couch watching a movie. This is an exciting time, but it's also a time where your head and heart aren't 100% in it. You might still think about your ex, or notice a good-looking guy or gal while you're out and about.

Jack has an ex-girlfriend named Mary. (And yes, she had a little lamb). They dated for 3 years and broke up about a year ago. This has given them enough time to get over any bad feelings towards each other and about 3 months ago they bumped into each other at Wawa and began talking again, just catching up as old friends. They continued to occasionally text each other and even met up for coffee a couple times just to shoot the shit. And sometimes, if they were out with their respective group of friends drinking, they would text each other a suggestive message because they knew every part of each other so well and it just came naturally. Now, Jack told Mary when he started dating Jill, and Mary herself was on the dating scene. In no way did Jack and Mary ever intend on rekindling their relationship, but still, sometimes late at night while lying in bed, Jack's phone would beep and there would be a text from Mary, laying out a hypothetically enticing scenario for him. Jack responds, and this steamy banter continues for a bit until Mary says she is tired and is going to sleep.

Jack never tells Jill about these sporadic texts because he knows that he never, ever plans on actually carrying out the contexts of his sex-texts with Mary. No ones feelings are hurt and Jack and Jill's relationship flourishes.

Situation #2: Jill has been seeing Jack for 6 months and she believes she is falling in love with him. They have a stable relationship and everything is hunky dory. Recently, an old college crush facebook messaged her, saying he saw something that reminded him of her and he hoped she was doing well. His name was Hansel, and Jill had been friends with his sister Gretel. They begin a short and harmless correspondence and one night Hansel texts Jill confessing that he had always wanted to ask her out but he knew she had a boyfriend and it was a shame he had lost his chance. Jill can't help but be flattered and also feels the old twang of attraction towards her former crush. However, she was firmly in her relationship with Jack and had no intention of compromising it. Plus, Hansel had moved to Texas after college to become a professional bull rider.

One night Jack was out of town visiting his aunt, and Jill found herself home alone and bored. So she texts Hansel and before she knows it, they are deep in one of those "if only" conversations. But, you know, all sexy-like. Much like Jack's past texts with Mary, the sexting between Jill and Hansel is not a daily thing. Also like Jack and Mary, Jill never tells her boyfriend about Hansel and the final result is no harm no foul.

Situation #3: Jack and Jill are celebrating their two year anniversary. They recently moved into an apartment above a pizza shop and have talked about marriage in the future. They are deeply in love but also have found themselves in a bit of a slump. This usually happens after a year of dating because you have become so comfortable with each other and have fallen into such a routine that things can become, quite frankly, boring. You're not having as much sex as you used to and you're no longer dressing up for each other or even closing the door when you go to the bathroom.

On nights where Jack and Jill go out with separate social groups, they sometimes find themselves sexting Mary and Hansel, just to feel a little bit of the excitement that was currently lacking in their own relationship. They delete these texts on the car ride home and happily climb into bed together at the end of the night, giving each other a kiss goodnight and saying 'I love you'.

Situations # 4 & 5: Jack is taking a shower on a Friday night in when his phone beeps. Jill sits up on the couch and reads the text. It's Mary and she is drunk and tingly. Jill hears the shower turn off and quickly closes Jack's phone, replacing it on the coffee table and he walks into the living room in his boxers. Jill says that someone texted him and admits that she read it. Obviously upset (but also knowing that she has done the same exact thing), she storms past him and goes to bed, telling him to sleep on the couch that night. The next morning she makes him promise that he will cut off all ties with Mary. She makes Jack tell her if anything physical has happened between Mary and him, and when he honestly tells her no, she decides to forgive him, but obviously keeps her eyes and ears out for any other suspicious behavior. Jack and Jill move past this bump in their relationship and continue on happily.

Or, Jack finds a text from Hansel in Jill's phone. She had forgotten to delete if from the night before. He is furious and feels that he can no longer trust her. He doesn't want any guy sexting his girlfriend, hell, he doesn't like it when a guy just texts his girlfriend. He tell her that she disgusts him and they break up.

Jill moves back in with her parents but not before keying Jack's car.

So while sexting may not be considered 100% moral while you're in a relationship, the fact of the matter is that people have needs and sometimes you need a little harmless electronic contact to truly appreciate the person you're with. I should also add that if this sexting ever does get literally physical or you realize that you have formed an emotional attachment with this person, do your significant other a favor and end things with them. Nothing in the world hurts more than being cheated on and nothing makes you feel more guilty than cheating. Well, at least it should make you feel guilty. And if it doesn't, well, you suck.

Also, I must end this with saying that if you are single, sext it up homie. SEXT IT UP.

Hey Guess What? Guys DON'T Always Like It When A Girl Gives Them Their Number!

I'm writing this post a day later than my usual Tuesday update due to the fact that I was far too busy making a COMPLETE ASS of myself last night. Since I know my readers' future happiness hangs in the balance of whether or not they hear this sad, sad story, I will elaborate. (By the way, that was sarcasm. Just in case for some reason you didn't pick up on that...)

So as you all know, as of a few months ago, I have become single. But what you may not all know is that this is the first time I have been single in over 3 years. And this is certainly the longest amount of time I have been consecutively single. And I apologize for saying the word "single" in every sentence of this paragraph.

Since it's been awhile since I've been on "the scene", as the kids say, I have no fuckin clue how to flirt anymore. What I have realized is that since becoming unattached, I have turned into a significantly meaner person. Well, maybe not mean, but I no longer go out of my way to be polite if I don't like what a person is saying. Needless to say, of the very few people that have actually approached me since my breakup, I'm pretty sure I've scared them off by truly not giving a shit about what they were saying. I don't fall for lines anymore, I don't want to talk to you if you're wasted, and if I ask you what you do for a living and you say you're "still figuring that out", I'm not going to spend one more second wasting either of our time.

Let me also point out that when I do actually find a guy I like, I become paralyzingly shy, so that doesn't help much either. Fortunately, in the past few months I have not found a single guy who has peaked my interest in the romance department, so no shyness here! Whoo! (That was sarcasm as well...)

As a final bit of Alexis Trivia before I get to the actual story, I have never just walked up to a guy and given him my number.

Ok, that all being said, let's get down to business. My friends and I have our favorite little hole-in-the-wall dive bar that we frequent quite often throughout the week and weekend. I mean, we're not there every night by any means, but we definitely go through phases where we are ThisClose to being the creepy regulars that may as well come with the bar. Let's just say this place is our Cheers. We have our favorite table, we know all the bartenders, and if the jukebox isn't playing enough country and "Come On Eileen" for our liking, we make magic happen.

So anyway, for some reason we all decided that I was going to give one of the bartenders my phone number. He's known as "the hot bartender", but if we're riding the honesty train here, I've never really found him to be as mind-numbingly gorgeous as everyone else does. Regardless, I was somehow convinced by my friends that he was flirting with me so I jumped on board just for funsies.

Last night I decided it was time to make my move. I picked up one of my girls and we drove over, quickly realizing that the bar was packed because the Flyers game was on. So we found a table inside even though Hot Bartender was working at the outside bar on the deck. As the game ends, we inch our way over to his bar and sit down and he sees us and gives us a "Hey ladies." We make small talk throughout the next half hour or so (and by "we" I mean mostly him and my friend because I suck), and then I finally just ask him for a piece of paper and a pen. Which he gives me. I write down my name and number and because the universe has proven that it is constantly against me on both a large and small scale, the top of the bar wasn't completely smooth so the name and number ended up looking like Helen Keller had written it with her un-dominant hand during an earthquake.

I look up and hot bartender has walked away. Meanwhile, one of the other bartenders keeps coming up and blatantly flirting with him and shooting us looks like "Step off bitches", even though she was the one that told us he was "very single" just a few days before. So eventually she leaves and Hot Bartender comes back and this is the conversation that follows:

"Hey, come here for a sec."

"What's up."

"So, I know we've never really talked, but I'm going to give this to you cause, well, I want to."

"Ok."

"It's my number."

"Uh, yeah, I know."

"Oh."

Ok, this isn't going so well. I turn to my friend for support and SHE'S GONE. So I turn back to Hot Bartender and the awkward conversation follows with us bantering (and by bantering I mean one sentence each) about how word around town is that I'm awesome. Then he starts to say something like "We could probably do something..." before he is cut off by the flirting bartender who returns with a PRESENT SHE MADE FOR HIM THAT DAY. So Hot Bartender turns and puts my number on the pile of receipts next to the cash register, the pile that is just asking to be blown away in the wind, and walks away. Meanwhile, I found myself searching frantically for a sharp object to gouge my eyes out.

Then my friend and I ended up staying at the bar for about 3 more hours, sitting right there in front of the first guy I had ever given my number to. During this time, there was a water gun fight, and a group of drunk guys asking which girl in the bar was going to get naked. Now, nothing pisses me off more than being surrounded by extremely drunk people when I'm not drunk enough. And unfortunately for one of these guys, he wasn't able to realize this. So he would not leave me alone until I turned to him and yelled,

"I'M NOT INTO YOU, NO WE ARE NOT FRIENDS, AND NO I DON'T FIND YOU FUNNY. NOW STOP TALKING TO ME CAUSE YOU'RE PISSING ME OFF."

I turn to my friend and tell her we have to leave before I "punch that guy in the face, I swear to god". So she gets her stuff and I lean over and call Hot Bartender over one more time.

"Listen," I say, "if you don't use the number that's totally cool, just make sure you rip it up and throw it out though cause I don't want it floating around the bar."

His response was, "No, I put it with my tips, I got it."

Apparently the receipts were the tips from people's tabs. So I ended the night with a nice little blonde moment.

Summary? I went from shy girl that might have been intriguing to Hot Bartender, to awkward girl that gave him her number and was pretty much rejected as nicely as possible, to loud angry bitch that surely drove the nail all the way in by completely terrifying Hot Bartender.

By the way, he hasn't called. Shocking, right?

I'm Gonna Need Another Shot If You Want Me To Bat My Eyelashes

It's no secret that flirting is a completely subjective concept. Everyone has their own way of doing it and receiving it (insert sex joke here...). But here's my question:

When did flirting get so stressful?

When we were younger and just realizing that looking at a person who peaked our interest made our faces all hot and our doo-dads go haywire, we thought that flirting was as simple as the following:

Girl: "Hiiiii, hee hee, you tooootally look like Jonathan Taylor Thomas!"

Boy: "Hey, uhh, I just got a Turbo Super Soaker."

Girl: "So cool!"

HOW AWESOME WOULD IT BE IF IT WAS ACTUALLY LIKE THAT?!

But nooo; we have to deal with intentional flirting and unintentional flirting and crossing the line flirting and oh-shit-he-has-a-girlfriend-but-I-didn't-find-out-till-mid-flirt flirting. Should we explore all of these options a bit more? You know I love a good list followed by some all over the place explanation.

Ok, so first we have the intentional flirting. This is when you meet someone and there's that instant attraction, so you break out the best, most interesting facts about yourself, embellish the living hell out of them, and then pretend to be interested in what the other person is saying. Eventually the dominant participant in the flirtation will reach over and make some sort of physical contact with the other participant, and that's when you get the goosebumps and suddenly it's hard to spit out the next 7-10 words. So you look down and see their hand on your leg and then you mumble words that don't exist in the English language, or any other language for that matter, and this all leads to either exchanging numbers or making out in the parking lot before one of you runs away before being roped into giving your digits.

Unintentional flirting is when you're at, let's say, a bar, and you meet someone and aren't really blown away by them, but they seem nice enough. So you engage in what you think is harmless conversation, until the person walks away and your friends turn to you and squeal "Oh my god, you guys were tooootally flirting!!!!" You act incredulous, look around, and down your beer in 5 seconds flat.

Crossing the line flirting is exactly that- crossing the line. I'll give you this example from just last night:

A friend and I were at our local dirty little dive bar, and due to the marathon of Philly sports being broadcast, it was filled with drunk, middle-aged men desperately trying to escape their wives. Or should I say, their wives kicked them out to the bar because they didn't feel like dealing with their hairy, sweaty, drunk asses. So at one point, this guy in a Flyers jersey and matching hat comes up to us and simultaneously started line dancing and sneaking into our conversation. Within the next ten minutes, he asks us if we throw up in the bathroom after we eat and if we live in cardboard boxes under a bridge, and then throws a dollar bill at us. Then he tells us about his "place down the shore" which started as a condo, then went to a regular beach house, then turned into a halfway house, before he finally admitted that he was lying. As if we couldn't figure it out. He ended the night by coming up to us again and asking when "we" were going back to his box, to which I asked, "Uhh, what do you mean we?" To which HE answered, "You're right, I want to visit your girls' box."

Aaaannnddd, this is crossing the line flirting. Simple.

The last type of flirting, the one where you find out you're hitting on someone who is not in fact single, is just awkward. Sometimes you get all the way through the flirtation before someone pulls you aside and lets you in on the secret. Other times you're mid-flirt before the other person is like, "Oh yeah, I heard that movie was great! Me and my girlfriend have been meaning to go see it!" To which you answer, "Oh, cool! Yeah, me and my very serious, long-term, live-in boyfriend that totally exists want to see it too. Can I have a shot? A double perhaps?"

Whatever way you cut it, I miss the days when flirting was harmless fun, instead of a do-or-die situation that could change the outcome of a potential relationship. I know this isn't always the case, but we're going to pretend it is in order to give this whole entry a purpose :)

Platonic Friend? What's a Platonic Friend?

Yesterday I was sitting outside with a friend, enjoying a mid-afternoon cocktail to celebrate the insanely beautiful weather that lasted a whopping 15 or so hours. We got on the topic of friends that went a little something like this:

-It's great to have a main group of friends, but you also need a couple sub-groups in order to appreciate that main group.

-It's equally great when individuals from these various groups get along, but let's be honest, the two should never become each other's besties (I'm so so so sorry for using that word...)

-It's harder to meet new friends at this age, unless it's at work or school. I'm not expecting to walk into a bar and leave later that night with a new girl friend.

-Most of my "outside" friends are guys.

-Most of these guys started as either boyfriends or friends with benefits.

-Holy shit, I have no platonic guy friends.

-Cut to me frantically scrolling through the contacts in my phone, desperately searching for a guy whose naughty bits I haven't seen, all the while muttering, "No...no...no...god dammit."

Now, don't misinterpret this as me being some Loosey Lucy. This rolodex of friends spans over almost a decade, and if we're being honest with ourselves, guys and girls don't approach each other at this age to simply be friends. When I see a guy in an insert-social-setting-here, I don't think "Gee, what a nice looking fellow. I bet he and I could be great friends with no undertone of attraction towards each other. I wonder if he wants to go roller skating next weekend and we can use the couple's skate as a time to sit off to the side and eat our separately bought soft pretzels..."

Also, let me just point out that my lack of platonic friends excludes guys that are dating/engaged/married to girls I know. It also excludes any friends of whoever I'm dating at the time. These two types of guys are obviously as platonic as can be.

So I guess my question is this: Is it pretty much the norm at this point to maintain friendships out of something that originally started as a hook-up? Personally I don't see the problem with this. One of the people that I enjoy hanging out with the most is my ex-boyfriend from when I was 17. When we get together there is no pressure, no jealousy, just comfort and a good time. We talk about our current relationships and trade advice and stories. There is no topic off limits for us and we have a lot of the same values and cynicism when it comes to dating. And, whenever we both happen to be single at the same time, we hook up (I know people have different ideas about what "hook up" means, so just take it however you want to in this and any future blog posts). We've been doing this for 7 years and never once has there been a problem.

So I guess that would go under the category "Friends Who Sometimes Hook Up". But what about "Hook Ups Who Are Sometimes Friends"?

Well fear not, cause I have one of those too :)

This is a guy whom I've written about a thousand times in the past so I'm sure those of you that know me personally can figure out his identity. He started as a rebound after my Big College Break-Up, and it didn't take long for us to become completely enthralled with each other. When it came to defining our relationship and slapping a title on it, the details were so fuzzy that it just was what it was. As the years passed and we maintained a friendship, it became apparent that the days of us talking on the phone for hours and hours were over. Now, we couldn't hold a full conversation with each other unless we were drunk or were looking for a little sumthin' sumthin'. So that's what we are. Hook-up buddies who are completely bored with each other every time we're both fully clothed. Now, there are other aspects to the two of us; we've been through a lot and have respect for each other and there are lots of different angles that, again, if you know me well you're already aware of, but the bottom line is that our most successful hang-outs include a trip to the liquor store and an empty apartment.

Just to cover all, well most, bases, there's also the guy friend that you happened to hook up with a couple of times and then go back to just being buddies without anything changing; or the guy who you gave a pity kiss to cause it turned out that he liked you but you didn't like him, but he was a nice enough guy that you just went with it and hoped it would just be a one time thing.

Last but not least, there is the "Uhhh...I Have Nooooo Idea" guy friend. These are the best, and this is what I'm dealing with right now. Much like one of the aforementioned guys, this one started as a rebound. Here's the simple formula of my own situation, but I would say 99% of it can be applied to the overall general rules of an "Uhhh...I Have Nooooo Idea" guy:

We see each other at a bar, get to talking which leads to flirting which leads to making out inside the bar, outside the bar, inside his car, outside his car...and so on and so forth. The next day he takes me out on a date and I realize that even though he is THE MOST DROP DEAD GORGEOUS LIVING CREATURE ON EARTH, he doesn't give me butterflies and this will probably be our last date. He asks me out on a second date and I think to myself "Eh, why the hell not", but this date still does not leave me with the tingly little feeling in the pit of my stomach that says "I like this guy". But then I realize that he is extremely polite and opens car doors and drives to my house to pick me up instead of me always having to go to him, and he plays with my dog even though he is ungodly allergic and practically has to be carted away to the emergency room every time he's over. I realize that he is completely outgoing which makes me outgoing, and he gets along with my friends, hell, he gets along with everyone. And he calls me or texts me every day, and he might be the best kisser I've ever kissed, and he's definitely the best sexer I've ever sexed, and there was that one week when I swore that I actually did like him...

But bottom line? I have no clue how he feels about me and he has no clue how I feel about him. We've simply never talked about it. We've been doing our thing for quite awhile now and I still have no clue if we're dating, or if we're just friends, or if we're even friends at all. I don't know if I'm the only girl he's seeing, and he would have no way of knowing if I was doing the same exact thing with somebody else. Yes we talk everyday but we only see each other a couple of times a week. There is so much uncertainty, and you know what? IT'S FUCKIN AWESOME.

There is absolutely no pressure which is exactly what I need right now. I'm telling you, next time you get out of a really serious relationship, get yourself one of these guys. I'm not ready for a serious boyfriend but I do miss the companionship of a steady guy. And now I have that. I want someone that I know will be there for me when I need him, whether it's just to talk or to jump, and I have that. I don't feel tied down to anyone so if I meet someone and they want to take me out, I feel no guilt in saying yes. This type of guy alone knocks all other types of non-platonic friends out of the ballpark.

Now, all of these examples aren't to say that having a purely, non-sexual guy friend is a bad thing. Guy friends are what keep us sane in comparison to our girl friends. All I'm saying is that they're harder to come by these days.

I'm so tempted to make a that's-what-she-said joke out of that last sentence...