drunken blabbing

The other day, while drunk (and worried about leaving my car in the lot too long), two of my friends, one of their mothers, and I drunkenly purchased the cheapest available seats for the next day's baseball game. ($7, bleacher seats, for which Ticketmaster charges a $3.50 handling fee, if you're curious.)

The next day we convened down in the stadium district for pre-game beers, which we sucked down quickly, and some garlic fries, which we snarfed quickly. Then we went into the stadium and continued in the same vein--drinking $7.50 Mike's Hard Lemonades (you'll note that's more than our seats) and Coors Lights as fast as we could before the official cut off during the seventh inning.

Around the sixth inning I realized with surprise that I had observed roughly zero baseball. I tried to pay attention between beers, and had the good fortune to see us score once. So yay.

In any case, after the game, which we finished off with a big collection of beers purchased at the last minute that we then had to drink quickly as the last two innings were fast, I realized that the bar a couple blocks away from the stadium district is the place of employment of my good friend the Bartender.

And by "good friend" I mean "dude I gushed about adoring but who then randomly stopped calling and with whom I am very upset."

So, drunk Sequined giddily suggested that since we were in the neighborhood anyway, obviously we should go there and... I don't know, embarrass myself.

On the walk down there my friend Adelle started calling the bar (using 411, I'm not kidding) to ask if he was working. She got an employee who claimed not to know if he was coming in that night, and asked who he should say was asking. She said she was the stupid whore I think is stealing him from me, giggled, and hung up.

So we were already on track for things to go poorly, but in my excitement about maybe seeing him, I didn't make the smart choice to go to a different bar.

We got in, wound our way around all the other sports fans, found a table, and started drinking more. Eventually our waitress passed and my friend's mom asked "is the Bartender working tonight?" The waitress got really excited and said, "Which one of you likes Bartender?"

Adelle tried to play it off, claiming she knew him from high school (which is technically true--they're both from the same town), but I was blushing furiously and sputtering so it was futile.

I announced something to the effect of (trying to preserve my total lack of articulateness), "Here's what happened: I was hanging out with him for like, a while, and then, like totally randomly, he stopped calling. And I'm really sad about it!"

She looked fascinated by my sob story and said something like, "No, really?" and then added, "but you're so pretty!"

My response to this totally unsolicited compliment? "I know, right?"

That's how you know you're a good person.

The waitress agreed that his behavior was inexcusable and promised that she'd have words with him the next day during their shared shift. And I agreed that she should definitely do this.

So. Yeah.

Moral of the story: I am a fucking idiot.

parking

Basically, big cities aren't designed to accommodate those of us who like to fly by the seats of our pants, so to speak. There are all kinds of obstacles interfering with properly having adventures in the city.

The main one, I'd argue, is parking.

For instance yesterday, I met up with some friends to do some touristing around town. I parked my car in a lot with a ten-hour maximum. We jaunted around town, got super wasted at lunch (to the extent that the restaurant manager asked our waitress if we were okay, evidently), were eventually politely asked to leave our lunch restaurant, and then drunkenly made our way back to the hotel some of our party was staying at.

(I think I should also note that while three of us were drunken 20-somethings, our fourth member was one of our mothers, which I think is why the restaurant dealt with our shit for so long.)

Anyway, still drunk a while later, we ventured out for some sushi, happy hour, and, eventually, night-time drinks.

At this point my car had been in the lot for about eleven hours, and we were across town and drunk.

What are people supposed to do when they're adventuring? Just drop what they're in the midst of (sake bombs, if you're curious), hail a cab, and carefully move their cars to the sidewalk outside the parking lot?

And what if I had met a man and let him take me home? What if!

(No, don't get excited--that definitely did not happen. I'm just saying it could have happened and the parking regulations would have been a bigger cock block than my near alcohol poisoning.)

Basically, moral of the story, if you want to go out and go crazy and not worry about things, you need to visit/live in a city with good public transportation. I think this is why all of this was so much easier in Germany.

looking back

You guys might not remember this, but back in March of 2008, I hosted 20somethingBloggers' very first ever Blog Carnival. I got this privilege because... drumroll please... the 20sb blog carnival was my idea! I'm an idea person, you could say.

So 20sb has been growing and evolving and they've done all kinds of cool things, including keeping the carnival going and coming up with fun new ideas. I don't usually participate in the blog carnivals these days, in part because I don't always do a good job blogging on an assigned topic (though maybe I should try--could break my occasional writer's block).

But this month the topic is perfect for me: looking back at our early blog entries.

I started this blog in October of 2007, when I had recently moved to a small town in Germany, in large part to share one specific anecdote I feel like deserves retelling pretty much constantly. I thought, "I have a kind of unique current situation--living abroad, figuring out men over here--and I have been told that I tell anecdotes well, so why not share these things with the 'blogging community'?" (I had been reading some blogs, like Sabina's and SO@24's, and started reading more when I got the idea to blog myself, so I had some sense that there was a community out here in blog-land.) So I started the blog and saved this entry for all of a week before sharing it with my .5 readers.

And yeah, I pretty regularly link to this entry anyway, but I'm always thrilled about new invitations to call everyone's attention to it, so here it is again, for 20sb's Looking Back blog carnival. Also:

This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers! For info re: ice cream, go here.

(Note: yesterday I realized for the first time ever that I misspelled the title of the entry. How embarrassing!)

Friday, October 26, 2007
the danger of being an empricist

When I was in high school, I randomly started liking this guy who was a year older than I was. He was a senior, funny, well-liked, sort of cute I guess (less so in retrospect). Also it's important to the story that you know he's black. It would definitely have been a short-lived thing if all of our friends (his and mine) hadn't run with the idea and encouraged me to talk to him. We started meeting up at parties and fooling around in back rooms and cars. We were at the "party of the year," apparently, but missed the fight everyone at school talked about for the rest of the month because we were busy making out upstairs. That's the kind of party-goers he and I were.

I was 16 years old and one night we were in my car down the street from some party and things progressed so that I was going to go down him. My first blow job. I don't remember all the details except that I wasn't really sure what I was doing but he was enjoying it anyway and that eventually he said "I'm about to come."

So that was all cool and I was kind of proud of myself for making it work, so to speak, and that I had apparently done a good job. When I got home, I took a shower. I think that I probably smelled like sex/smoking/alcohol/whatever. Or I'm just hygenic. Whatever. So I'm washing off and I find this black stuff on my hip and legs. And it's kind of sticky and for the life of me I cannot figure out what it would be or why it would be on me. So I relive the events of the evening, trying to place this foreign black substance.

And all I can come up with is that a liquidy substance might be this guy's semen. I knew for a fact that semen is white, but I figured I had never seen anyone come in person and now I had this physical evidence that this black guy's cum was black. I knew it was stupid, but it was literally the only explanation that made any sense.

So for a few weeks, I secretly believed that black guys ejaculate black. I later discovered that the black substance was grease from the seatbelt in my car and it was all over my back seat from us fooling around back there. I also later found out that the guy, KJ, had a girlfriend, which was odd because all his friends were excited about us hooking up and the girl was nice to me at all these parties we went to. But I don't claim to be an expert on other people's relationships.
His sister was a bitch to me, but I don't know if that was because of the girlfriend or a "Save the Last Dance" kind of a deal. That movie had come out recently when this all went down, so I heard a lot about how my life was like the movie. But totally not.

Jezebel had a discussion a while ago about whether oral sex counts as sex. I say no, solely because I don't want this guy to be the guy I "lost my virginity" to. Because then the story of the first time I engaged in sex is framed by me being a huge moron. (Which it probably is anyway, now that I think about it.)

relationship status

Over the past four or so years since I've been using facebook, I've come to really appreciate the "relationship status" feature, for a couple of reasons:

1. a lot of dudes who wouldn't tell you to your face that they're dating someone will list their girlfriend on facebook, taking some of the guess work out of things for you.

2. the accidental drama factor can be high, and thus entertaining.

3. it can give you clues that enable you to "read between the lines," so to speak, of unexpected contact.

First, an anecdote about point 2, and then an explanation of point 3.

This woman I'm friendly with has been seeing a guy for three weeks--they met, literally, three weeks ago. They've gone on five-ish dates in that period, a couple of which were very casual and sort of relationship-like, in that she went to his apartment and they watched a movie and made dinner. They kissed for the first time just a few days ago.

The next day, her facebook account notified her that he had requested to be "in a relationship" on facebook with her. They had not discussed this in person at all. So when a group of us got together for dinner the other night, the story of her getting this notification, having the ensuing awkward conversation with the dude, and exclaiming over how weird that was were all the most delightful things on earth to listen to and discuss.

Because seriously, who does that?

Anyway, as far as reading in between the lines goes, over time I've gotten some random wall posts, messages, "instant messages," whatever via facebook from dudes I'm not super close friends with, and in some cases from dudes I literally hadn't talked to in a couple of years. Sometimes this communication remains totally mysterious, but often if you go check a dude's facebook page, you'll see that he became single within the past couple days of the random contact. And then his motives are clear.

Other times when guys creepily facebook chat you and you can't garner clues about why from their relationship status, you tell one of your old friends who you've recently gotten back in touch with about these weird requests for naked photos via facebook IM and she reports that she knows not one, not two, but at least four other girls who have gotten the exact same harrassment from the same guy. And then instead of reading between the lines, you can read the very explicit clues that say the dude is a creep.

Facebook: keeping us connected.

priorities

The other day I was trying to make plans with one of my best girlfriends, whom I haven't seen much of lately, and we settled on a day and an activity when she said, "oh, tiny hitch--I'm supposed to hang out with NewSemiMaybeBoyfriend that night. Can I bring him along?"

The agreed-upon activity wasn't like, cribbage (that is, best suited for two), so I said of course she could bring him along.

But then evidently he didn't want to do whatever we were planning to do, and she canceled.

Which occasionally happens, and isn’t, in itself, a huge deal.

It sort of starts to become a big deal (to me, at least) when it's happened the last several times we've made plans--last minute cancellations, requests for rain checks because of the dude, pleas that certain days are already committed to whatshisface so that we haven't seen each other in weeks and weeks.

And so I wondered about it when she said "I've been sort of seeing this guy..." because, you know, she's definitely not been seeing me. Here I thought she was super busy with work and stuff, and then it turns out she does have a social life these days—I’m just not a part of it.

I get it: it's super exciting and fun to get to know a new person you might like. I’ve been there; I’ve done it. But I wonder why that sometimes means forgetting about the people you already know you like—you know, your friends.

Similarly, this guy who took me on a semi-date the other day got good news about a job prospect yesterday. He texted me, thrilled, and said, "We have to celebrate!" (Well, more like, "we gotta celebrate ;)", but same gist and less painful to read.)

I thought, "well, sure, I’ll buy you a drink because you’re a nice person and you just got great news, but I don’t have anything invested in this or even in you, because we’re very vague acquaintances and have gone out once. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have your actual friends—the people who urged you on when you found the opportunity and went for it, the people who encouraged you when you got discouraged, the people who have been waiting all along to hear how it’s going—come celebrate with you? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have the people already invested in your success celebrate that success with you?"

Though of course it’s theoretically possible to do both. I don’t know his circumstances because, like I said, we don’t really know each other yet. Which is my point.

I wonder a lot about the relationship between friends and romantic partners, both in these instances and in general.

Obviously if you’re married/engaged/have been dating for three years, I’m not only sympathetic to your desire to/tendency to prioritize that person over your other friends, but encouraging of it. Presumably your relationship is just different than the ones you have with your friends, and even with your family. That’s the point.

But what if you’ve only been dating a few weeks? What if you’re still getting to know each other? Is getting to know someone more important than making time for the people who had to listen to whine the last time a boy hurt you, or who supported you as you made a difficult career decision, or who agreed to play a sport they disliked just because your work team needed an extra body? You know, your friends?

I think it’s curious how friends become so disposable to some people once they start dating. Do coupled-up people not need friends? Obviously lots of them think they don’t, or think they don’t need to invest any time in their friendships. I’m not sure.

I’ve been lucky: in all of my three "serious" relationships and the majority of my casual ones, the guy was already a part of my social network in such a way that my dating him did not cause any drastic change in my social life except that more of my free time was spent on a dude’s couch. I watched more of my TV shows while snuggling. I did more of my sleeping not alone.

But I was still easily able to hang out with all the friends I wasn’t boning, and no one seemed to feel deprived of Sequined-time.

But I understand that once you’re out of college, it doesn’t always work that way. You meet a dude at the dog park, agree to hang out, get giddy and cancel dinner with your friends to go to his house for a BBQ, skip movie night with the girls because you’re tired from talking to him on the phone, whatever, and he seems very distinct from your "old" social life. You put your friends on hold while you figure out his role in your life. It happens.

And when it happens that way, sometimes he becomes your life. And what are your friends supposed to do then? Forget you?

Surely balance and even integration can’t be that hard? If the dude is genuinely fun and cool, wouldn’t he be able to come watch a baseball game with your friends? Wouldn’t you be able to go for lunch with his? Wouldn’t he be able to handle it if you had Thursday night plans that didn’t include him? Why is this so incredibly hard for some people?

Why can't some people maintain relationships with their significant others and friends at the same time?

when he won't wear a condom

Here at Sequins and Glitter, I'm a strong advocate for safe sex. I'm also an advocate for sex in general. I'll call myself sex-positive.

I like it when the rest of the world is sex-positive, as well, though sometimes this is hard to find in pop culture, especially with regard to women. But there are occasional glimmers of hope. Like this:

The other night I rented Mamma Mia and I thought about how rare it is to see a sexually free (we'll be euphemistic, I guess) woman portrayed not as a dirty whorebag and I was pleased. Then I realized the plot hinges on her having evidently unprotected sex with three dudes in a row and I was less pleased. (Okay, granted, this was supposed to be like the '70s, and that was pre-AIDS etc., but what message are we sending here?)

Did 8th grade health class teach us nothing, America? Have we so quickly forgotten the lessons of Bristol Palin (who claims that teens would "never" have sex if they "understood the consequences") and all our friends/peers who got STDs by not thinking ahead?

I don't think forgetting the BC and STD protection makes you a dirty whore; obviously condoms have their problems. Especially when you have a condom-shredding vagina, as I evidently do. And obviously even the most prepared of us occasionally screw up. But seriously, I wholly endorse the use of condoms for everyone involved in casual sex. (Sure, do what you do in monogamous or otherwise STD-safe relationships; I'm talking casual sexing here.)

In fact, I have a policy (that rarely goes tested, believe it or not) that I will not sleep with a guy who won't wear a condom. I carry a couple, so I'm contributing to our safety, and I'm also on other BC, for extra protection. It's like how you have to wear a seat belt on a roller coaster, but to ride me. Or like the ticket to ride, as this condom commercial posits.

If a guy wouldn't wrap it up, it would be a big indicator for me that he was a douche and I would probably give up my plans to engage in intercourse with him. But maybe he's just young or immature or desperate or whatever. Excuses, excuses. But okay, for the sake of argument say I'm willing to give a guy like that another shot.

He says, "oh baby, it'll feel so much better without one," and somehow it doesn't make me roll my eyes and kick him out into the night, but rather makes me determined to get his penis into a condom. Hmm.

So, inspired by a particularly clever text from last night, I've been thinking about what to say to a dude in this very situation:

(510): he said he didn't have a condom.
(415): and you said?
(510): that that's fine cause i was ready to be a mom. yeah - he magically had a condom he forgot about after that.

I can't think of a better response than this. But maybe you can. What can one say to a partner who is reluctant to use a condom?

do not attempt

So, gentlemen. I hear a rumor that many of you like women, and would like to get into their pants on occasion. Unfortunately for some of you, many of your methods are lacking in a little something... say, any potential for success.

So here I am, at your service, to narrow down your quest to find a sure-thing by telling you what not to do when you try to pick up a lady.

Sequined's Do Not Attempt List:

1. Do not try to pick up a woman you are driving next to on the freeway.
There's simply no way this is going to work, and odds are good that it will creep her out if you keep pace with her and enthusiastically (or vulgarly) gesture out your passenger-side window to her. And, sure, it might have the unintended benefit of making her really focus on the road as a way of studiously avoiding looking your way, but not glancing to her left for several freeway miles is probably not a good driving method either. The bottom line, folks, is that love doesn't happen at 60 mph.

2. And while we're on the topic, don't deliberately cause a fender bender to start a conversation.
Love also doesn't happen when you are creepy and damage her car. I read a romance novel in which this happened, and it was supposed to be a "meet cute" kind of deal (if I recall correctly) and I just couldn't stop thinking, "this dude is fucking psycho! Get out, Lady!" Because that's psycho.

3. Don't ever, ever neg her.
A male acquaintance of mine (who has actually tricked me into going on a date with him, which it appears I may not have ever blogged about, which is too bad because it was weird and made a decent story) swears that negging is actually just a great way to start a conversation with a woman you'd normally consider out of your league. Say, "oh hey, your hair is a little mussed" or "oh hey, it's cool how your purse and your shoes almost match" or whatever, and it's just a conversation starter! I would argue that it's a way to get your foot in the door by putting her off guard and making her self conscious. I have more opinions on this topic, but I'll leave it here for the purposes of this list.

4. Don't try to pick her up by hitting on her friend(s).
This should be self explanatory, and might fall under the umbrella of negging, but seriously. Just talk to the woman you actually want to talk to.

5. Don't try to impress a near-stranger in a bar by unloading all your SAT-words, business-speak, or political opinions in your first conversation.
Don't make things too heavy and serious too fast, because it's not fun for anyone and it's rarely successful. If you just want to get laid, act like it; don't pretend you're auditioning for a Pulitzer.

6. Don't IM a woman out of the blue with whom you haven't spoken for four years (since the night you invited her stay over at your place and she declined, if memory serves) and then not-subtly transition into trying to convince her to hook up while pretending you're just organizing a fun visit to her current city (in six months).

7. And then when she signs off facebook to avoid your random and increasingly sexually blatant IMs (because she fears you're going to try to initiate IM-sex, which she's never been a fan of, even in 10th grade when AIM chatrooms existed for that purpose and she and her friends used to fool around on them giggling and squirming about how gross this all was), definitely definitely do not look up her phone number on facebook and continue to beg for a hook up via text message.
Because I can tell you that when you have to sign your full name to the first one (e.g., "What's your fav position? John Smith"), it's not sexy. And it's really awkward.

8. And actually, just don't text a girl for purely sexual purposes unless she gave you her phone number. It's not okay to be like, "What you up to tonight, baby? John Smith gave me your digits, this is Mike Jones." Just, you know, find an opportunity to ask her yourself. By then she'll probably know you're a creep and can make an informed decision about the level of sexual text harassment she wants to invite into her life and her phone bill.

9. Don't try to impress strangers or aquaintences you're trying to sleep with by flashing your wealth around, especially if they haven't gotten a chance to care about your personality or sex appeal yet.
I'm not trying to ride a stack of bills until four AM; save it for someone who wants you to buy her things.

10. And finally, if you're over the age of 15, don't try to sneakily feel her up and take it from there.
No more (earnest) faux-yawn-to-get-the-arm-over-the-shoulder stuff, inching the hand down to the boobs, or awkwardly moving your hand from the movie theater armrest to her knee. We're all too old for that, and if a woman doesn't know you well she won't know whether to laugh at you to lighten the mood or to shift away awkwardly. Or at the very least, make your joking intentions clear. We'll call that a compromise.

So, gents, I hope this has been enlightening for you and that from now on you'll be better equipped to navigate the treacherous waters of trying to score. Please use your newfound knowledge for good, not evil.

Best of luck fellows,
Sequined

in his court

Sometimes I can be really stubborn.

It's been weeks since I last saw the bartender--the guy I've been gushing about by posting Fleetwood Mac videos in pink and purple boxes, yeah--and I don't really think it's either of our faults.

I've gone out of town at least half of the past eight weekends, and he's been working both his jobs. I've had finals and this is also the end of the "year" at my job, so I've been slammed during the week. (I haven't even had time to go to trivia, that's how dire things are.)

Between my weekend jaunt to Hawaii, my friend's wedding back in our college town, my trip to the East Coast for Memorial day, the race I ran out of town, and work and school, I for one have not been able to hang out.

And neither has he, and that's okay.

But the problem is that he hasn't seemed bummed about that.

Not that I expect him to call me in tears about it, or send a sweet "thinking of you" text every other day. Because I don't. But how hard would a "hey, are you free Wednesday" update be every now and then? How hard could it possibly be?

The stubborn part comes in when he doesn't initiate contact for a couple of weeks and I get annoyed, and I announce exasperatedly to my (/our) friends that the ball is firmly in his court and he had better call me next time he wants to see me. And they roll their eyes because I usually cave and we eventually do see each other (we had a similar long-time-no-see stretch in January and February, actually).

But I really do feel like if he liked me he'd make some effort to talk to me once in a while.

And he doesn't, so how interested can he be?

So the other day my good friend Jaycee, who has a lot of the same friends as we do as well as the world's most gossipy best friend (a girl I'll call Chatty, since I don't really know her), IMed me with "good news."

"The Bartender really wants a girlfriend!" she said. "Chatty was over with her boyfriend the other day and now that most of the guys are dating people, the Bartender is tired of being single. You have to make your move!"

Gee, how romantic.

I expressed my hesitation, saying the ball's in his court, blah. She reminded me, firmly, that she gave me guy advice with my old crush, the Musician, which I chose not to take, and then the Musician got back together with his ex. This is a good point she makes; everyone involved agrees that probably things with the Musician would have gone a lot better if I had just done what Jaycee suggested.

(Sidebar: her suggestion, which I think will make most of you readers laugh, was to not play so coy. She thought I should just go for it. Which I was unable to do because I was so shy around him. True story, and I agree it sounds crazy, coming from me!)

In any case, I texted the Bartender (as much as I'm willing to do when it's his turn) and asked what he's up to this week. He said we should hang out and he'll tell me when he gets his schedule. I said, "call me when you find out." No definitive plans were made. I feel like if he liked me, he'd make actual plans, or tell me when he'd call or something. I'm just not getting that vibe anymore.

So I'm not confident we're going to hang out soon and I'm kind of sad about it. But it's been a while since we've hung out and I've been kind of forcing myself to get used to it and to pretend I don't think he's adorable, and I think it's more or less working.

So moral of the story: I do whatever Jaycee tells me, but I don't think it will work this time. And about that, I am sad.

social experiment

I have resolved that the next time I go out and meet a cute, random guy (unless I honestly think he's going to father my children or something, I guess), I'm going to go psycho on him. For pure entertainment value.

My plan comes based on the experience of my friend Party Guy, who went out the other night, met a cute girl, and immediately started getting the creepiest text messages in the known universe.

It went more or less like this:

Five minutes after meeting: "I can't wait to leave with you."

Twenty minutes after meeting: "You are so hot; I'm so glad we met."

An hour after meeting: "Our kids would be so hot."

Three hours after meeting: "God you're amazing. I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

The weirdness of these texts is, I think, exacerbated by the fact that they're so random. At first it's like, "oh, she wants to bang." And then it's like, "weird, she's already being clingy." And then, children.

Party Guy was understandably skeeved (though he admits he considered going for it anyway, since she was a sure thing). He said he and his friends got literally a week's worth of entertainment out of this, especially since she continued texting him for several days after.

"When will you be back? I miss you so much!" "I can't wait to see you again." etc.

So my plan is to do this, but even better. I need to be the craziest, psychoest girl ever, but maintain some believability.

I've been compiling weird texts I've seen/heard about, and a sure winner so far is, "You've got me so wet, my panties are like a swimming pool." I feel like that has to be used at some point.

So, my plan:

Step one, obviously, is going to be looking hot and going to a bar, then reeling in an unsuspecting guy. (Party Guy has volunteered his best friend, because the best friend doesn't know me and this way PG can be doubly entertained by hearing about it from both sides. I'm debating if I think this is better than a random dude or not.)

Step two is your job. What kinds of creepy things can I say to/text this fellow for maximum creep-out factor and fun?

buy the cow

One of my number one pet peeves is the expression:

"Don't buy the cow if you can get the milk for free."

Or worse, its variant: "A man won't buy the cow if he gets the milk for free."

Why is this so stupid? Let's parse, non-grammatically, shall we?

A. I don't like being likened to a Goddamn dairy cow.

2. A relationship with me is comprised of a lot more the "milk."

In this stupid expression, boning a dude before he commits to you is like giving away your milk if you're a cow--that is, just handing out what makes you sale-able. Giving away what makes you valuable on the open market.

Read: wasting the one aspect of yourself that makes men want to "buy" you. That is, sex.

So the only reason a dude would ever date you, in the world where this is an appropriate expression, is to get into your pants.

Not because you're fun to hang out with, or funny, or sweet, or supportive, or even pretty. Just because you have an unoccupied vagina.

And that shit is offensive. And obnoxious.

People use this expression to condemn women who engage in sex "recreationally," or without requiring emotions and attachments beforehand. Because the worst thing in our society today, obviously, is women enjoying sex outside of committed relationships (by which we clearly mean marriages).

And the implication is that even if you want to have sex for fun, you shouldn't, because you can use your sexuality to entice a man to "buy" you, or commit to you, because he can't get the milk without setting up house with the whole damn cow.

Gee, that makes relationships sound so wonderful.

If all you want is my milk (by which I mean sex), that's cool; I'm not asking you to take me to the movies every Friday and set your facebook status to "in a relationship." Just say, "hey Sequined, I wanna bone but not hang." Done and not done, respectively. And we're fine. But if a dude wants to actually date me--me, the same person who doesn't think sex for fun is a sin--he'll do it whether or not I give it up before he asks me to go steady.

Any guy for whom the expression "don't buy the cow if you can get the milk for free" would be applicable is a complete douche, and you have Sequined's permission to say so.