Relationships in the boy-girl fashion are a peculiar animal. They are, hard work, they are complex, but, unfortunately for many facebook users, they are never "complicated". You're either in one, or you're not.
A committed relationship is pretty well defined. It doesn't require hours of explanation or qualification. Its very simple, so simple in fact that there are only three criteria the couple is required to meet. In meeting all three, the couple, no matter how casual they try to act, is in a serious relationship. In failing to meet, any one of these, however, no matter how many "I love you"s are uttered, these two are still, in a sense, seeing how it goes.
Up until these terms are met, either party is at liberty to end the arrangement without explanation or prior warning.

The talk: Without the talk, in a sense, making it official, you have nothing solid. Man and woman, or boy and girl need to sit down and have a serious discussion about what the situation means to them and how much each person is willing to commit to the other person. In business terms, this is referred to as a verbal contract, in the absence of which neither party can be held liable for the dissolution of the arrangement. It goes without saying that both parties must be on the same page and whatever agreement is reached must be acceptable and of value to them both.

Exclusivity: There is no such thing as an open relationship. Once again I apologize for bursting the facebook bubble. A couple that defines themselves as being in an "open relationship" are simply fuck-buddies. Sometimes they are really tight fuck-buddies, but fuck-buddies all the same and the one who believes that they are more than that is guaranteed to get hurt. It is completely and utterly impossible to be committed to one person at the same time that you're blowing someone else's back out (sounds absurd when I put it that way doesn't it?) Contrary to what most people want to believe, there is no such thing as no strings sex; just that sometimes the strings are not as taut. We leave a little piece of us with each person that we sleep with, and that's a piece of us that we cannot share with the person we're supposedly committed to. Not to mention the risk that one person will start to catch feelings with some other person thats making them come harder than you.

The fight: The true test of the resilience and sustainability of a relationship is the first major blowup. I read somewhere that you never really know a person until you have a disagreement. I'm going to take that one step further and say you're never really invested in someone until you're with them besides their differences. Through the expression of emotion, our true nature, and especially, our faults are revealed; even moreso the expression of the extremely volatile emotion that is anger. Raised voices, bulging veins, surging adrenaline and a reduced ability to control words and actions: this is where the true animal is unleashed, hurtful things are said, feelings are disregarded and trampled on...It is the couple's ability to rise above and pull through this that solidifies their relationship. I believe you never really have a person till they feel sufficiently comfortable with you to show you their weaknesses and the fight is the perfect avenue.

Committed relationships are serious business. There is a level of surrender involved that is not to be taken lightheartedly and as such they are not meant to be entered into until both parties are doubly certain that they are ready to bear that responsibility.

That's my take. What's yours?

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Or so I was told. To which I smiled and dubiously nodded my acknowledgement. But, come on ladies, we all know its LIESSSSS!!!!

And guys, if you didn't know, let me tell you. Your girl's ass is just as nasty as yours. Probably nastier even, from holding the farts in for so damn long. I have a sister, and many female cousins, and I can tell you this is fact. Not theory, not a hypothesis but a proven, observed fact!

Women fart. Period. Actually I'd like to think especially then..hehe..but I could be wrong.

Anyway, you might ask what provoked this sudden attack on women's stank asses. (Sorry ladies, I know your asses aint stank.) Well let me tell you.

Sunday evening, getting some of that sunday evening "good good". She's on top, holding on to me tight as our bodies spasm in sync. She goes to get off and... **frappp**. Silence. I arch my eyebrow.

"That wasn't a fart", she says

"Ok", my mouth says. "Riiiiiiight", my eyes say.

"It wasn't!!!"

"Ok!" I paused. "Although, if it was a fart it's not a big deal. Farting is natural"

At this point she starts to get indignant.

"I DIDN'T FART!!"

So I decided to have some fun.

"What's the problem? Everyone farts, embrace the fart. In fact, *sniff* it doesn't even stink so you have nothing to be embarrassed about"

She punches me in the shoulder "That's cause I didn't fart!!"

I can see the desperation in her eyes for me to believe her, but I was having way too much fun. She was so flustered by the thought that I could believe that she was capable of letting one rip.

Baffling really.

To tell the truth, she probably didn't fart. It was probably the sound of the vahjayjay suctioning off the condom. But I was just incredulous at her total and utter chagrin at the thought of committing such a totally natural act.

Why do some women submit themselves so willingly to the slavery of this inability to express themselves? I have a friend who swears she never farts, except when she's in fits of laughter..sometimes. That may be true. But the question I have is why.

Actually, I have a theory:

Guys, you know those days when you're with your perfect little lady, who never, ever farts and you let one rip. It's cool cause you're a man and a man's gotta be a man, right down to his smelly farts. Until you realise, it's not cool. The stink hits you so hard you get whiplash, and you're like "where the hell did that come from? That couldn't have been my ass!!"
Well, it wasn't. It was that lovely little Stepford-ian minx you have by your side. She took the opportunity of the cover of your willy-nilly fart to plant her stored up, 3 week old monster, framing you.

Poor, unsuspecting, you.

And now you feel like you have to apologize to her for the stink that you believe emanated from your ass. She covers her nose, punches you in the arm and gives you that disgusted "why do you do these things?" look.

Ingenious, really.

Hong Kong is a smoking hottie. I had a slight crush on her last year while at uni, but it was complicated. Her (crazy) friend seemed obsessed with me. Nightly 4am calls because she "just wants to talk to me", but she had nothing to say... yea I wasn't trying to date a 13 year old. Plus I wasn't interested in her. I was even less interested in carrying a conversation i hadn't initiated at 4am. But I digress.

Hong Kong, on the other had was the good kind of crazy, the fun kind of crazy. The kind of crazy that causes her to get a few of her girls together to jump me and put hoop earrings through my (no longer used but still open) earlobe piercings. She was fun, she was intelligent, and she had a killer bod which she LOVED to show off; very low cut tops that stopped short of her navel, shorts, minidresses and the like. But she still looked stunning in a t-shirt and sweats. So yes, I was crushing a little, but my aversion to drama dictated that I let it go.

Bucharest cancelled a date last monday and I called Hong Kong, we chilled. She's put on a couple of pounds, but still looks fantastic. According to her, she had fun and we should do it again, soon, and often. She's also no longer friends with crazy juvie chick. So... We'll see.

Shanghai is a complicated one as well. For a couple of reasons. One is that she is friends with Hong Kong. I don't think they're that close, but they would at least make small talk at a gathering. I actually debated putting her in here because when I wrote the first part of Options, Shanghai was definitely in the running; she was actually half the reason I started writing it. Now, however, not so much. A few reasons:

• She is trying to be a devout muslim. Now you all know how I feel about religious women.


• She is a virgin. Made that mistake once before. Never again.


• This is going to sound kinda mean. I met up with her last week (I had missed her). When I left, she texted me

"You make me feel weird. When I don't see you I'm fine. But when I do see you, I want to see more of you"

That was great, except that the more I saw of her, the less I wanted to see. This isn't due to a dislike of her by any means. There is a chemistry, an undercurrent that runs between us. When I'm around her, I want to touch her, hold her, kiss her. But every logical bone in my body screams against it, leading to a lot of frustration. So I think it's better to close the chapter, compartmentalize the emotion. Determine in my head that it's never going to happen. So, I guess, we wont see.

You already know of the hotness that is Sin(yes, its a city, fictional or no). Long toned legs, soft chocolate skin, firm DDs and an ass that was created on an OCD day. Yes, I think I may have mentioned the hotness. Sin is newly single. We have a history, we have chemistry and she keeps asking for another "massage". She's a little joker, that one. Again, she's out-city, which dampens my motivation a bit. But ...We'll see

And then there was Frisco. Frisco is my current squeeze and, to be honest, is head and shoulders ahead of the rest. Quite literally. She's nearly 5ft10. She's this chick. But we sorted that. Legs that literally go on forever, like f'real they never end, miniscule waist and the cutest little booty. She's totes hotness. (Ignore that last sentence if you're not Lowlah). She's one of the very few women who haven't begun to piss me off immediately after we've had relations. She lets me be me, all the while not forgetting to be her. The exclusive B.U.D.D.Y thing isn't so bad. Although it wasn't so easy when she was away for 3 weeks, but I get where she's coming from. Oh and did I mention, el sexo es incredíble. So... We're seeing.

If you were to ask me today what the predominant reason for my singledom is, my reply would be "Options, and the anticipation thereof".

Some people might suggest that it's simply down to a fear of committment. But I argue that its a more deep seated fear of settling. And as long as I have my options, it remains easy to avoid that which I fear. Some of you(Lowlah) have been privy to my weekend options/"dilemmas".  I'm going to give you all a more cursory overview. (Some names are changed in the interests of privacy and uniformity. I will be naming them after cities (not necessarily the ones that they're in)).

And we'll start with Dublin: eyes, legs and a perfectly round booty of toned muscle. Thick, soft, luscious lips always glossed.Met her at a friend's event, we talked for a bit, but she's out-city so she's sort of a minor right now. She's promised to come visit though, so how it's gonna go... We'll see

Another out-city one is Brooklyn...I first met Brooklyn a couple years ago on a bus. Her cousin was actually the one to approach me. I hardly noticed Brooklyn at the time. She was shy, young looking and honestly quite plain. I ran into Brooklyn again last month. My lord, she's grown! A knowing, confident smile, a walk that's mean like Simon Cowell, and a body that looks like she walked out of a Ludacris video. She called me a week ago out of the blue.

Hey, I'm going to be in london soon, we should hook up

Definitely. When?

Not sure, I'll let you know (yada yada yada, small talk, light flirting)

So how's the boyfriend?

Oh, he''s somewhere

*Antennae perk up* What do u mean? You haven't heard from him?

Well he's in Jamaica, I think he's coming back next weekend or something. I don't know. To be honest I don't really feel like I have a boyfriend. I feel like I'm borrowing him.

*Smile*In that case, maybe I can borrow you from him.

She laughed. We flirted a little more. I told her I wanted to show her what I use the entire wall of mirrors in my bedroom for. We'll see.

Bucharest is another one that's been in a relationship the whole time I've known her. Until now. Sexy little Romanian thing with a ghetto booty and killer legs. She gets *side-eye* from a LOT of black girls when she walks down the street. And she's a fiend for black men, preferably West African. We'll see.

Then there's Vegas. Fun, witty, confident, highly sexual, untamed. Smile like summer, legs to the high heavens, a fashionista, she is definitely eye-candy. She is also very aware of how hot she is and as such she freely exercises her right to be chased. The challenge. Shore salivates at the prospect of her. D gets weary. Met her a week ago at the clothing store where she's a sales assistant. We've been on one drinks date. Where it goes from here? We'll see.

Phew! And I'm only halfway through. Be back with the rest

Soundtrack to this is "Where I wanna be" - Donnell Jones

I suspected it for the longest time. The random "bang bang bang"s, the constant music. Like they were trying to drown out something. Like they were trying to cover up something.

It occurred to me the night I heard a crash, and then frightened voices and whispering outside my window at 3am one night (don't ask why I was up). I looked out the window and saw 2 tiny Chinese girls standing in the street. They looked scared. A second later something spooked them because they Bolted down the street (doubt Usain would have been able to keep up even). I contemplated calling 999 but didn't (I know, I know). Someone did though, because there was a ECILOP(See Roc) car outside in minutes.

After that night there were no incidents for a while, but I noticed that several cameras had been installed over their front door giving them a view of the entire street. I shrugged it off.

And then the floodgates opened. I figure they opened fully for business within the last couple of months. Either that or I just wasn't paying attention before. These days its a swarm of guy after guy after guy going in there.

To be honest, I thought for a while they were drug dealers (I heard about a Chinese "family" that rented out a house and turned it into a "greenhouse", if you know what I mean). I'm still not convinced they're not drug dealers. I think they're diversified. But I digress.

The clincher, for me, occurred one fateful spring night. Any hint of shyness they might have previously had was/is gone. The girls were performers. The guys were dirty, nasty pervs.

I was in bed, reading, as I do to wind down after a long day. I hear giggles. Then. Bang Bang Bang. Squeak Squeak. Bang Bang Bang. "Oh Mr Andrews you so biiig".

I almost died with laughter.

The thing about this place is that you hardly ever actually see the girls. They come out like once a month or something (prompting me to think they're in some kinda bondage).

So, yes, since that night, everytime I look out the window and see a flashy car pull up, and a paedophilic guy gets out and walks toward the house, I make sure he sees me give him the most disapproving stare like "mhmm, I know what you're here for"

My flatmate even joked about us going over there and getting the BBBJTCWS*. I'm not down with that. Not for any reason other than that I refuse to pay for sex of any sort.

So I told him to find out if they offer any introductory freebies. I'll let you know how it goes. Hehe.

* Bare Back Blow Job To Completion With Swallow

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

I don't get it. Never did.
*

I've been to a strip club once. A few years ago, when I was dating this girl, Paulette who happened to be a dancer (hey, just cause she dances go-go, it don't maker her a...). She asked me to come watch her dance one night, and although I was predisposed against it, I went because:

1. I was promised free entry and a private "dance".
2. My friend caught wind of it and made absolutely sure I went and took him along and
3. I had nothing better to do that night.

I have to admit I had fun that night, got Paulette a couple of drinks (that was my total expenditure on the night) and got "dragged" into a booth for...erm...well, lemme stop there.

*

This is my beef with this whole establishment. Strip clubs are basically torture facilities. Dens pf iniquity, but even moreso of frustration. If I had been tasked with designing a room in hell, I would visit Stringfellows for inspiration. These places are generally filled with old, balding men who cannot get any play, but in their twisted logic have decided that the next best thing is to pay some woman to give them blue balls.

*

It's perfectly ok if, say, a guy visits with his girlfried or significant other, they both get turned on and then go home and turn each other out. That's perfect. Or if a guy goes to get turned on knowing he has his woman waiting for a good lashing at home, it's still fine; although one could ask why she doesn't turn him on in herself.

*

The thing is, a good number of the guys you see at strip clubs don't have someone with or waiting for them. All they have to look forward to is a good wank. So you have these guys, throwing money at (sometimes saggy old) women for the privilege of going home to the five fingered shuffle.

*

I daresay they could get that for free. Just my opinion.

*

sWeET DREAMS blogville

"yes I watch porn, you know you do too"

That's a quote from Miss Lowlah's latest post.

*

I don't. No, it's not one of my rules. I don't do it for religious reasons and I have to stress that I don't think there's anything wrong with it or that there's a stigma of any sort attached to it. I just don't. I used to. A lot.

*

I wrote previously about how I lost my virginity at 11. I was introduced to porn much earlier. I must have been about 9 approaching 10 the first time. The very first scene I watched was a German porn scene of a man wanking in front of a glass door while a naked girl teased him from the other side. It was a massive relief. I now knew what to do with the erections I'd been having since I was seven. Wank. And wank I did. Everyday, sometimes multiple times a day.

*

And then came the sex, and I didn't have to wank anymore. But then one day she moved away, and I was left by myself to do the five finger shuffle once more. I didn't have sex for 6 years after her. Porn is what got me through those long, hard (pun intended) years.

*

By the time I was 18, I had a library of the stuff on my laptop..as well as every trojan horse imaginable. I sometimes wouldn't sleep because I was so engrossed. I didn't even have to wank. I just wanted to watch and see pictures. At 16, I remember I memorised my dad's credit card number and..well, u can guess the rest.

*

I was out of control. Addicted, some would say, but given the way it ended, I would say I was more intrigued than anything else. I had downloaded numerous scenes from Booty Talk (i think that's what it was called), many, many Jenna Jameson scenes and lots more.

*

In February of 2004, while (like I do every year) racking my brains trying to figure out what I should give up for Lent(I've stopped trying), I decided, after a pretty long struggle, to give up porn. And I did. It was hard, very hard at first ( I kept telling myself that as soon as Easter had come and gone, I was gonna attack my laptop and find EVERY video ever made). But it got easier after awhile.

*

Easter came and went. And I attacked. I had an 8 hour session that night (making up for lost time). The next day, I went back again, but something just didn't feel right this time. I just wasn't as excited as I usually was. It felt like a been there, done that scenario. I'd seen everything imaginable(to me at the time). Beastiality (woman getting peanut butter licked out of her by her german shepherd), midget porn etc etc.

*

I deleted every last video from my laptop that night; after, of course, going through all my favorites to make sure they really didn't do it for me anymore. I haven't watched porn since.

*

My male flatmate was saying the other day how he's surprised he hasn't found my porn stash. I told him it's because I dont have one. Now that I think about it, I wonder, has he been going through my stuff looking for porn? The cheek!

*

So yeah, no porn for me. I just don't feel compelled to. My imagination is much wilder than anything that may ever have been videotaped. Ok, that may not be true (case in point: 2girls 1cup-aka-what is this world coming to?)

*

I find that the suggestion or the promise of sex is much more of a turn on to me than the actual act. You might even have inferred that from the way I write about sex.

*

This is not to say that I wouldnt watch porn. I don't turn away. I just don't go seeking it out. There's so much more to life, I simply don't have the time to give.

*

sWeET DREAMS blogville.