Living In Sin: Good Sex, Bad Frat Boy
Sex is something that drives us, empowers us and gets us into really stupid situations with people we have no business seeing naked. Jen Sincero is the bestselling author and sexpert with the carnal knowledge you need. Ask her your questions (all are posted anonymously). Cuz there's no such thing as being too good in bed.
I'm 22 years old and I can't seem to get over my immature ex. For some reason I can't commit to the fact that he's a loser young frat boy and I need more to my life. Honestly, it's the sex that keeps me attracted to him, and with him having a 19 year old girlfriend now, it's also what keeps him calling me. This has been going on for the past 6 months, and every time I don't talk to him, he just finds someway to lure me back. I want to move on so bad. He's a loser anyway, he abused me, said horrible things to me, and never really cared about what I had to say, yet I can only remember our good times - oh how selective memory haunts me.
What also scares me is that I don't think I will ever find the kind of pleasure that he gives me. It's weird, I've had 5 different partners and he has been the absolute best and he says the same about me. Damn chemistry. I'm pretty much over telling his new girlfriend how much of a loser he is and how much he cheats on her. I want to be me again. Where do I go from here?
- Ewww Frat Boys
Where do you go from here? To the land of caller ID, unanswered phones, blocked emails and slamming your hand in the car door every time you think of him, that's where. You must train the horny squirrels in your brain to knock it off, and make sure that any thoughts of him that do squeak by are the ones that involve him calling you a fat pig with poop for brains. Kay?
I will say this, however -- you won't be able to give this guy the heave-ho until you really want to. It's like people who get hypnotized to quit smoking when they really don't want to quit, or who try to lose weight when they're more excited by pizza than being able to look down and see their feet. It never works. A few months ago I dragged my ass to yoga class for a solid week even though I just so so so did not feel like doing it. I paid my money, sat on my mat and was surprised to find my hand raised in the air when the instructor asked if anyone had any injuries she should know about. I then heard myself explaining that I'd just gotten the cast off my broken elbow and should really take it easy. I am an adult. I am very busy. I paid for that class with my own money and then lied so I didn't have to participate (my cast came off in December of 2005, but luckily my arm still looks a little fucked up so she bought it). I spent the majority of Yoga Week quietly napping on my mat and conjuring up my best "wincing in pain face" in case she was looking at me whilst half-assing Down Dog. Unbelievable.