ClueChick: real clues from a real chick

A couple of times recently, I've tried something I'd never done before, which is meeting strangers through face-to-face interactions. I gather this is one of the ways it was done before the internet, but, damn, it amazes me that anyone managed to get any before the internet. Though it's becoming less mysterious, happily.

So, back in the winter, I met a guy at a bar while I was waiting for friends, and we struck up a conversation that was interesting and engaging, and then my friends showed up and I went off to have dinner with them. I realized, though, that I wanted to continue the conversation and, of course, the guy was quite to my taste, and the only way to keep chatting would be to ask him for his number or give him mine. So before I even had a chance to second-guess myself, I gave him my card where I'd jotted my mobile number on the bottom and suggested if he ever wanted to get drinks, he should give me a call.

I was, after the fact, incredibly proud of myself for having the nerve to do that. I hadn't really let myself think about it at the time, but afterwards, I had a big rush of adrenaline and, "Oh, my god, did I really just do that??" It was merely icing on the cake when he called a couple of weeks later and we had a couple of truly outstanding dates.

More recently, I pulled more or less the same maneuver in a much more planned-out way, and I have to say, that was approximately five gazillion times harder. This time, I plotted to have drinks with a friend and slip the guy my number before I'd even gotten to the bar (he works there). It took me an hour and a half to work up my nerve and find a moment when he was alone and didn't seem to be busy before I gathered all my courage and went to talk to him briefly:

Me: *proffering card* I don't know if you're seeing anyone, but if you're not, I'd love to get together for drinks sometime.
Him: *taking card* I'll call you.
Me: Great! *fleeing*

And he did! I actually had convinced myself that he wouldn't, because he struck me as kind of shy, and I really had no idea if he was interested in me, despite the fact that we've been making eyes at each other every time I've gone into his establishment for the past 3-4 years. I mean, he could just be cute and flirty or shy and blushy, right? Anyway, we have a date next week. But now I have to figure out how to broach the "I just want you for sex" conversation without the convenient forerunner of an up-front CL ad.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So. Last week, I responded to a hot CL ad. Mr. Dude and I have since been exchanging emails comparing notes and interests and figuring out that we're very much on the same page and why don't we meet? So we arranged to meet this evening over drinks.

I arrived a couple of minutes early, found a seat at the bar, and ordered myself a drink. I was mostly facing away from the entrance, though turned slightly so I could glance more easily at people coming in. At some point while I was facing away, he entered and, apparently, glanced around and saw a woman who looked more or less like me and concluded it was her, because he joined her at the table. He had a toy with him that had been a running theme in our emails, and put it on the table. I was suitably amused by the mix-up and waited for them to figure it out. They gestured at the toy and obviously had some conversation about it. There appeared to be no mix-up, because he settled in and ordered a drink.

Now, we met on the internet, and far be it from me to be bothered by the fact that he's meeting multiple women coming out of his post. I was put off by the fact that it appeared he was having the same conversation with all the women he was in touch with, or at least two of us, if the same prop worked for both of us. And, of course, I was not impressed with his having made a date with two people at the same time and place! Hello, tacky!

In fact, as it became increasingly clear that they were settling into their conversation, I was increasingly offended. So offended that I wasn't even offended, finally, just gobsmacked. And I had my whole drink, which I could leave, and stalk out, maybe with a brief pause at the table to tell him off briefly. Or I could wait around and see ... did he have a plan for this? Did he think one of us was coming later? Would he glance up and notice me there? So, I decided to nurse my drink and eavesdrop on their date while contemplating the chutzpah involved in this situation.

Minutes passed. They laughed, chatted, chuckled. Meanwhile, I realized that the guy who just came in and sat beside me is someone I met several years ago at a social event and later called to ask out on a date, which call he never returned. I hoped he didn't recognize me; at any rate, he didn't strike up a conversation, and neither did I.

Suddenly, a shriek arose from the table. "Oh my god!" yelled the woman. "We're meeting the wrong person!" General exclamations and startled looks arose, and it was immediately apparent to me that my first conclusion -- that he'd sat at the wrong table -- spot on. Unfortunately, it had taken them longer to sort that out. He turned and saw me (I kept my head down and pretended I hadn't noticed any of this), and made a quick switch to come over and introduce himself. "Let me tell you what I just did," he opened.

I admitted to having observed the slip-up, and we had a good laugh at the whole situation. We had actually exchanged photos before meeting, but the woman did look vaguely like me, and it was dim, and it can be hard to translate photos to real life. We wondered if she and her date had exchanged photos, though, because when he finally arrived, he looked nothing like mine. So, I suppose the moral of this story is that photos are helpful ... but no substitute for speaking clearly when introducing yourself that first time.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Over time, flings come and go. Lots of the guys I meet up with turn out to be one timers, whether by intention, or because of lack of interest in more on one side or both, or because subsequent meetings never manage to gel. And, for the most part, I look back on the event with fondness and no particular wishful thinking that there had been more.

There are a few instances where that's not the case: First, the fellow I fondly (and my friends less fondly) call my bad idea, who, to be fair, is someone I got together with a number of times, but I always wished for more. Second, the Brazilian (OMG, hot). And third, Mr. The View (about whom you can read here).

These are guys who I was highly interested in having further hookups with, and who expressed an interest on their sides, but circumstances prevented us from getting together again. Now, it may be that these guys are making up excuses to let me down easy, and that would be fine, but I operate on the assumption that if a guy says he wants to get together again, he does, and it's a shame when we both do but it doesn't come together due to schedules or he starts dating someone monogamous, or what have you.

But! these things happen and it's not a big deal, though I reminisce somewhat nostalgically about the really good ones who I'd like to have seen again. So it's extra delightful when I hear from one of the ones who "got away", for two reasons:

1. I might get to fuck someone who I had a really good time fucking in the past. There's no down side to this.
2. Even if we don't manage to get together, it's really awesome to have my sense of our previous encounter(s) as positive and worth remembering confirmed from his end, too.

In this case, I got an email yesterday from Mr. The View, saying he thinks of me from time to time and am I around this weekend, because he'd love to get together. *score!* Now, even if we don't get together, I know that a guy I fucked two year ago (almost to the day!) has good, happy memories of it.

That's a nice ego boost. Plus, it tells me I'm adding general good to the world. How could that fail to rock?

Posted by ClueChick at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just got my first email from down under, if I read things right! This fellow is newly single after a long time:

So now I am exploring the world of casual loving and am loving going on dates, meeting new people and all the excitement. I've had some great experiences, have come across a problem I've never faced before at the age of 33 - first kisses. Just about all my relationships/shags involved me be seduced rather than the other way around as is usual. Now I have to start making the first move! ... I can sometimes tell when the right time is when the girl is giving me all the well-known body language signs, lots of eye contact and we are generally having a good time. No problem there.

But there are other times, I think when the girl is more reserved that I'm not sure...

So what are some amusing/fun/disarming ways a bloke can go in for the first kiss?

I love this question, and not just because I was fantasizing about kissing on my drive home tonight. Kissing is really great, and it gets short shrift in the world of casual sex; people are often rushing ahead to the main event, missing a lot of great scenery along the way.

I think I'd like to address this question in the course of multiple posts, because there are so many great ways to make a move, and I'd love to hear from readers on both sides of the first kiss (kisser and kissee, if it went down with someone initiating, or kissers both, if it was entirely mutual). What are first kisses that have gone well? What are moves you wouldn't make again if someone paid you? What's a trick that didn't go smoothly but worked out anyway?

But first, let me tell you a first kiss story that has come up several times recently, and that is a very fond memory:

There's this boy. He's super cute, and at the time this story takes place, I'd known him socially for a handful of years, but only peripherally. Around this time, I was getting to know him and his wife better, and we all ended up at a sex party together, where he and I spent some time chatting about a variety of things, including how weird it can be to be at a sex party where it's kind of unclear what your role as an observer is... but that's neither here nor there.

So we're chatting, and partway through the conversation, I was struck absolutely stupid by the desire to kiss him. He was still talking and, apparently, I was, too, though I really don't know what either of us said, because all I could think about was kissing him, and here we were surrounded by people in various states of undress and somehow, I was not in the middle of kissing him, and that was causing me all kinds of consternation.

But, a real problem here is that I'm shy. Oh, sure, I flirt like nobody's business, but when it comes to making a move, I'm about as smooth as a thirteen year old boy. So, of course, I went with the classic route of hoping he'd kiss me. But it wasn't working and thus, we still weren't kissing.

Well, this went on for an embarrassingly long time, until his wife came collect him for bed for the evening. Seeing my moment escaping from me, I decided to leap, and before I tell you what I did, I want to say that in retrospect, I think this is a classy approach that I would recommend to anyone:

We were wrapping up the conversation (I still don't know what we were talking about at that point) and I looked him in the eye and said, "Would you mind if I kissed you?"

He made an eyebrows-raised surprised face and then said, "No, I'd like that!" So we did, and it was awesome. Contrarily, I'm still shy to initiate with him (though, actually, that might add a little bit of fun to our flirtation), but I've had a hell of a lot of fun kissing him from time to time, and I look forward to doing it more in the future.

(Full disclosure: After I told this story to his wife, recently, she then passed it on to him, and he came back to me and said, "But hadn't we kissed the year before at that other party?" And, I'm embarrassed to say he's entirely right, so this isn't actually a first kiss story, but it acts like one, so I'm just adding this addendum onto it, even though it makes me look silly for forgetting the first first time I'd kissed him!)

Posted by ClueChick at 10:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

It could reasonably be said that casual sex is my hobby. It's a hobby that I take pretty seriously, but that's true of many of my hobbies. It's not that I'm overly serious, I think, but I do buy into the idea that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing well. And sex is very worth doing.

But casual sex is also somewhat tiresome. One of the best things about being in a steady relationship that involves sex is that you get sex without all the work of trying to find someone you think is hot and then figure out if they think you're hot and then finding a time when you're both free and then having sex and then figuring out if you both want to do it again, all in the context of a relationship, such as it is, that gets less priority in a busy schedule than friends and family and work emergencies and what have you.

Oh, sure, sometimes there's the blissful hookup when serendipity strikes and it all comes together (pun very much intended) without a lot of effort and everyone has a blast and maybe it works out to do it again and maybe it doesn't, but that one serendipitous hookup reminds you that it can be easy being easy.

But a lot of the time, it's not.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I had an interesting conversation with a potential fuckee recently, talking about safer sex and in what circumstances each of us requires condoms to be in play. Earlier in the evening, while comparing notes on previous experiences, he told me that he'd met up with a couple of men he met on CL and that in the case of the one who wanted to give him a blow job, he had insisted on a condom for that. This is well within the range of normal safer sex precautions, so it didn't stand out particularly until we were talking specifics about what we might do.

Naturally, I assumed that his expectation would be to use condoms for fellatio, so you can imagine my surprise when he told me, "Of course, I'd be happiest not using condoms for oral."

Whoa! What?

Now, this is also in the realm of what I consider normal safer sex precautions, but I was struck by the fact that he would insist upon it with one person and not with another, particularly because, if I may brag, I get around a bit, so it's not like I'm a no-risk lay. So what was going on there? Maybe this other fellow was also very slutty? I asked. No, he was more of a shut-in.

This left me with the most obvious (to me) conclusion that in this case, the condom would serve as a protective barrier not against potential STIs, but, rather, against potential psychological infection. I don't know if this was about limiting intimacy and vulnerability to emotional connection or fear or worry about the gayness of having his cock sucked by a man, but I was struck by his calm explanation that you can get STIs through oral sex (obviously true) and that's why he insisted on condoms in this case.

Why not with me? I asked, of course, and he said that it was because he knows I'm reasonable and cautious and get tested regularly. If I could cross my eyes, I'm sure that I would have been while trying to wrap my head around this explanation.

There are plenty of good reasons to use condoms, and if one of them is that it allows you protection against ideas or intimacy that you want to avoid, that's fine, but it's probably a good idea to acknowledge to yourself that that's what you're doing. And ditto the reverse.

Posted by ClueChick at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

This is how a "Thanks, but no, thanks," conversation should go:

[I had just explained to him how some of the things he said in an earlier conversation had made me disinclined to meet up with him.]

NG: then let's skip to the next medium, and let me try to convice you over the phone in order to avoid any misinterpretations
ClueChick: no, thanks, though
ClueChick: I'm happy to keep chatting here from time to time, but not really motivated to try to take it anywhere
NG: ok, well i don't want to beg you or anything, just seemed like someone i'd have a good time with, and you turned me on so i thought we could have some fun .... i don't want to try to convince you, i would much rather have you actually want me instead .... but if you decide to change your mind, that would be cool
ClueChick: ok, thanks :)
NG: ok, otherwise, i'll chat with you here and there .... sorry for turning you off like that

Very, very cool. I may even change my mind about him.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"Nice guys finish last," the saying goes, and there seem to be lots of guys who finish last who have decided that this must mean that they're nice guys. They get the short end of the stick or the wrong side of the coin toss one time too often, more than they deserve (or so they think) and this is proof that the world is against them, even though they really are just so nice, no, really, they are.

I call these guys assholes in nice guy clothing, and they're one of my least favorite types. These are the "nice guys" who use their status as a "nice guy" to try to get their way. Is that nice? I don't think so. They think that it doesn't count as being pushy if they ask nicely, even if they're asking for the 10th time, and even if they're asking after they've been requested to stop. Nice? No. These may be the guys who creep me out the most of all of the yucky jerky types out there, because they aren't always as obvious as the guy who comes out and announces with pride that he's an asshole. (Not to mention that I've found that plenty of the guys who do that turn out to be standouts in the decency department, using the "asshole" title as a way to protect their secret sensitive sides.)

Assholes in nice guy clothing are the sorts who will say they respect women and then turn around and expect women to sleep with them merely on the basis of their being "nice". They reject the idea that women might actually have tastes and preferences and tag as "frigid" or "bitchy" any woman who has the nerve to turn them down. It's not that she's reasonably exercising her particular tastes but that she's a bitch who can't see how good he is because she only wants bad boys.

Well, I'll tell you, I'll take a bad boy who listens to me when I tell him what I want from him than a "nice" guy who ignores what I say:

AiNGC: I still pray for one more chance
AiNGC: well any chance I can get.
AiNGC: one more crack, it's a new year, after all
AiNGC: *grin*
ClueChick: are you familiar with the phrase, "No means no."?
AiNGC: yes
ClueChick: Do you know what I assume about men who pressure me to do
something after I have declined?
AiNGC: pressure?
AiNGC: I just asked nicely
ClueChick: see, asking nicely, after having been told clearly not to,
is pressure
ClueChick: it's just "nice guy" pressure. it's like an asshole in nice
guy clothing
AiNGC: LOL
AiNGC: you have me pegged well
AiNGC: but it's more persistence than anything else
ClueChick: from where I'm sitting, it means you don't take what I say
seriously
ClueChick: this is a pretty common problem among men
ClueChick: they think women don't really mean it when they say
something the guy doesn't want to hear
ClueChick: but when I say no, I mean it, and I clearly remember
explaining this to you in a past conversation
AiNGC: ok
AiNGC: won't ask again
AiNGC: grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
ClueChick: and I believe that at that time, i said I would be happy to
talk to you in the future, but I don't like having to say no, and please
don't make me do it again
AiNGC: you did that too
AiNGC: was hoping you forgot though
ClueChick: ah, and if I had forgotten it, would that make it okay for
you to ignore my request?
AiNGC: well ok to you
AiNGC: since nobody would have been harmed
ClueChick: which shows me how much you respect me and my requests
ClueChick: thus: asshole in nice guy clothing
AiNGC: ok no more asking
AiNGC: I know your memory is good

(I love that he ends this conversation not with, "Sorry to be an asshole," or "You're right, I didn't respect your request," but, rather, "Your memory is good," which is to say, obviously, that he doesn't think his asking was wrong, just his underestimating my memory. Seriously, this is one of my least favorite types of people, EVER.)

Posted by ClueChick at 5:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

You wouldn't, most likely, know it from this blog, but in person, I'm quiet and demure...

Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I am not Ms. Bold, striking out into bars across the country and picking up men with a flick of my wrist. But I'm always trying to be more bold, because I don't see a whole lot of use in being shy. And along those lines, one of the things I've long fantasized about doing is giving a guy my panties on a first date. You know, just to let him know things are going okay.

There are some tricks to this:

First, I have to be wearing panties I'm willing to give away, even if temporarily (I hope!). Normally, I'm wearing some of my favorite panties on dates, because they're sexy and they make me feel flirtier. In order for a guy to inspire me to hand over my favorite thong or my hot boy-cut lace panties, he's got to be really awesome. Or I have to be really horny. Or, ideally, both! That's a high bar.

Second, I have to be wearing a skirt. Pants and no underwear is not a good combination. You'll have to take my word for it. Or you can try it yourself if you like!

Third, I... no, actually, there are just the two things.

Well! 2007 is off to a great start, because last night, I gave a guy my panties (one of my favorite thongs, even!), telling him, "You can give these back to me when we next meet."

Pinch me!

Posted by ClueChick at 5:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

God, I am such a yuppie! How did this happen? Aren't I supposed to be subversive and wild and shifting paradigms left and right? Oh, sure, it sounds good, but when you get right down to it, I'll go to the lounge around the corner from my house and listen to Top 20 tunes and sip a girly drink any day of the week before I go to the grungy bohemian dive down the street. And you know what? I'm okay with that. And you want to know why? Because it is awesome to make out behind the dumpster of the lounge, while the dive has no good alleys at all.

Go figure.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In the world of online hookups, there are a lot of standards. There's the one night stand, the friends with benefits, the intense fling, the flaccid coffee date... Every once in a while, though, something creeps up behind me and throws a twist into the mix.

I was recently contacted by an artist who's into erotic paintings. And was he looking for models to come to his studio for "modeling sessions"? That is, naturally, what I expected as I opened his email. But, no, he was looking for couples who would be willing to have sex for the camera so he could use the images for source material in his paintings.

Well, damn, that's a new one on me! I'm something of a shy exhibitionist, and having my photo taken while fucking had never made it to my list, much less my "top ten" list, of things to try. But, hey, I'm game, and I have a lover who also has been known to enjoy a bit of exhibitionism, so I called him up, and we met the artist, and we thought, "Why, what the hell?" Okay, maybe we actually thought, "That sounds new and hot!"

So we did! And it was, in fact, new and hot. (The hotness was increased by the studio lights, I'll admit. If you're ever fucking under studio lights, I recommend doing it in the winter and with a window open.) Now, the only other time I've had sex in the presence of people-not-my-lover was at a party where other folks were doing other things while also watching us. Being the center of attention was quite different! It took a while to get into things, but once we relaxed into things, it was a lot of fun.

Quite a lot of fun, in fact. It's one of those things that seems like I would do better the second or third time. I guess I'll have to find another photographer.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

When guys respond to my ads, they often have ideas about how our first meeting will go. Some of these ideas are unrealistic.

Things I probably won't wear to meet you:

* a wet t-shirt
* a latex bodysuit
* a vibrator (internal)
* nipple clamps (!!!)
* a tank top so tight my breasts pop out of it while we're talking

Things I probably won't say when I first meet you:

* "Hey, big boy!" (I always thought this was just a cheesy line from I-don't-know-where)
* "Let's get out of here and fuck!"
* "I forgot my panties."

Things I probably won't do when I first meet you:

* drop to my knees and unzip your fly without saying a word
* suck my finger suggestively while we talk
* hike up my skirt and finger myself while we talk

No, I'm afraid my first meetings are all very boring. But I do get a kick out of hearing people's fantasies, just as long as they're clear that they're fantasies.

Posted by ClueChick at 6:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I was out for dinner tonight with a friend, and we were eating in a restaurant that has a storefront type dining area, with tables right up to the windows. We had a table right next to the window, which I like, because I enjoy people-watching (shocker, right?).

So, we're eating, and this guy walks by, kinda strolling, and he looks in the window, checking out the restaurant, and then looking really closely at our table and food. Now, remember, he's only about three feet away from me, separated by glass, and he's basically standing there looking at my dinner, which is, I have to say, a little intrusive, but, fine, you've got bad boundaries? You and half the rest of the world, too.

But then he noticed me watching him check out my food, and he made a smoochy face at me, like he was blowing me a kiss, but without the hand motion. YUCK!

Now, listen, we all know that the difference between a welcome approach and a sleezy come-on is whether the recipient thinks the approacher is attractive, and so, invariably, every guy who's willing to take a shot is, like it or not, occasionally going to find some woman giving him that look that says, "Hey, what are you doing?" But there's a place where it's reasonable to go ahead and take the shot, and walking by a stranger's table while she eats isn't it.

You feel a little embarrassed because I "caught" you crossing a boundary? The way to handle it isn't to give me some lame, gross, fucking offensive smoochy face. Christ.

I need a vacation.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

One of the things that fascinates me, in general and in specific, is people's turn-ons and kinks. Oh, sure, those balloon fetishists count, but even more interesting, I think, are the more day-to-day quirks and details that get people going. I, for example, love mixing contexts: Can I hide sexual play or flirtation in a totally mundane setting? Or can I joke with my lover about some weird thing I read on the web while he goes down on me? There's an obvious titillation in the former, but for whatever reason, I really love the latter, too.

Some people are aware of their own quirks, and they may be self-conscious of them. Other people seem not to realize they're quirks at all. At any rate, talking to someone about this sort of thing doesn't always bear fruit, but it often does. This is a great thing about meeting someone new and discussing turn-ons. It helps, no doubt, that I pick up new turn-ons along the way, when someone particularly enthusiastic introduces me to his (or hers.) This can be a direct introduction (i.e., by a lover) or an indirect one (i.e., in conversation with a friend.) I enjoy both.

A turn-on doesn't even have to be unusual to be interesting. Exhibitionism and voyeurism seem nearly universal among my friends (who, I'll admit, may be unusual) and are still interesting and zingy. I'm always intrigued to meet people, though, who have something that I think of as a common turn-on and who think it's unusual. For example, I had a brief thing with a guy who's biggest hot-spot was listening to his lover come, and it took us several dates before he was comfortable enough to tell me that's what sent him. It felt like a big revelation to him, but it seemed pretty mundane to me. But, hey, cool for him, right? And it worked out well, for me, too, I'll admit.

So one of the big wins for me, one of whose quirks is my love of discovery and the unexpected, in casual sex is finding this sort of thing about a new lover. You get off on giving me a pearl necklace? It may not be my thing, but seeing you go over the moon about it will be. You've been wanting for ages to find a woman who'll lick her juices off your fingers? Lovely! I suppose that makes me what Dan Savage calls GGG, but it's not just because I'm game. After all, finding more things that get me hot is a win for me in the long run, too.

Posted by ClueChick at 6:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had one of those inexplicable evenings where I had three (3!) men give me "Oh, baby!" comments in the five minutes it takes me to get home from my neighborhood coffee shop. What the...? I wasn't even particularly dressed up!

Until I can explain why this sort of thing happens, I probably have no business trying to give advice on sex and hookups.

Posted by ClueChick at 11:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

You know what's great? Fucking. Yeah, okay, it's not a revelatory statement, but fucking is goddamn awesome.

Pretty much everything about fucking is pretty great, too. There's the flirting, the teasing, the hinting, the batting-of-eyelashes and all that fun stuff that leads up to fucking. And then there's the full-body-contact, rubbing up against each other, getting-it-on of the actual fucking. And, then, as if that weren't enough, there's the sweet drifting down afterwards, which is when I'm always most tempted to say something that will embarrass me when I've recovered my wits, but it's also when I'm most likely to say what I'm feeling without running it by the censor, first. (Yes, no doubt these things are related.)

But, really, a day with some fucking in it is a day that's worth having. A bad day + fucking = hey, at least I got laid. A good day + fucking = really fucking awesome!

Yes, I think I'll have more fucking, please.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Do you ever wish you could watch yourself having sex? Oh, sure, I know lots of people do the home video thing, but I'm most interested, actually, in seeing if my face is actually as expressive when I'm fucking as it feels like it is. Sometimes, when my lover has his fingers inside me and is watching my face, I feel like he can see all the way to a me that I barely know, who only comes out (pun intended) when my conscious mind is distracted by the all-consuming job of saying, "Oooooh, yeeeahhh!"

What, if anything, would I learn about myself if I could see that? Maybe nothing. But I know my lovers reveal something to me when I watch their faces while we fuck, and I don't doubt that the ones who pay attention get a glimpse of something from where they are, too.

I wonder if seeing myself in a camera would be the same, or if it's a matter of being in the moment, sharing that eye contact, opening up -- almost involuntarily -- to the immediacy of the experience?

Posted by ClueChick at 11:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I spent most of the weekend wearing a blindfold. What fun stuff did you do?

Posted by ClueChick at 8:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

You know what I think of men who ignore what I tell them? Not much.

I'm consistently amazed at how often this comes up. I often end up conversing with fellows who seem nice enough, but for whatever reason, I'm not interested in hooking up with them. Most often, this is because they're married and cheating, or looking to cheat. I like getting to know new people, but I don't lead anyone on: If you're cheating, I'm not gonna do you, and that's that. But the reason I'm not interested isn't important. The point is, sometimes, I'm not interested in fucking a guy or flirting with him, but I'd be content to chat with him.

A good 80% of the time, though, after I say that I'm not interested in hooking up and that, in fact, I'm not even interested in flirting, they say they're happy to talk. Then, predictably, they start to flirt. Then they complain when I don't flirt back.

"But you're so hot!"

Somehow, apparently, these guys think that just because they find me attractive, I'm somehow obligated to flirt with them. Or maybe they think that if they tell me I'm hot, I'll find myself unable to resist flirting back?

In fact, what I find myself unable to resist is thinking they're assholes.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Okay, so I've been talking vaguely about this great vacation fling I had the other week, but I haven't given you all any good details. Also, I promised yesterday that I would talk about the kind of pick-up that actually gets me into bed. Conveniently, these two themes fit together nicely.

I was on vacation, and I was getting hit on a lot, because that's what happens to women visiting beachy tourist spots, but, for the most part, the men hitting on me weren't interesting to me, until my friends and I went to what we'd taken to calling the restaurant with the hot waiters. (All the restaurants on the island are open-air, so you can preview the waitstaff, and we'd been walking by this place for a couple of days and commenting on the cute staff.) So, we got a table, sat down, and started flirting with the waiter.

(Guys, this is a good time for me to mention that if a strange woman is flirting with you, that's a very good sign, but it's not a slam-dunk, so don't get your hopes up just yet.)

One of my girlfriends seemed to hit it off with our waiter, which was fine, because one of the other waiters was more to my taste. (He had these really hot, geeky glasses. Be still my heart!) So, every time "my" waiter walked by, I made eye contact with him and held it just a little longer than would be accidental. Eye contact, we all know, is key in flirtation and pick-ups.

Soon after that, our waiter handed our table over to "my" waiter, and we got on with the serious flirtation. He was friendly but not fawning, attentive but not desperate. It was great. I'm a pretty shameless flirt, and given a responsive partner in flirtation, whether it's going anywhere or not, I'm completely happy. Also, as it turns out, this gets you better service, if the object of your flirtation is a server. We got a free carafe of wine, for example, and our water glasses were never empty.

Ultimately, however, I'm a chicken, so as our meal was winding down, I hit the point where I wasn't going to be able to move things any further along. This is, largely, because I'm shy, and just like anyone, I fear rejection. Luckily for me, as a woman, this doesn't mean I have to go home alone at the end of the night. I know this sucks for you guys out there, especially the shy ones, and I feel your pain. I figured I'd had fun flirting, and that would be that, when our (my) waiter came to the table with a round of complimentary nightcaps and a card for free drinks for the three of us (classy) at a bar nearby. He told us when he'd be done at work and would be at the bar.

Let me interrupt my story for little bit of commentary, here. First, this guy was paying enough attention to know I was flirting with him, and to play it up. He didn't jump the gun and try to invite us out in the first gambit of the conversation, but he also didn't wait until we were actually departing the restaurant. Of course, he had the advantage of knowing we'd be there for a while, which isn't necessarily true of a woman you might want to hit up in a cafe or a bar, but if you know you have plenty of time, using all of it is absolutely the way to go. He was funny and charming, and when the time came to step up and move things from casual flirtation to serious intent, he did it smoothly and without pressure. He was clearly interested in me, but he included my friends in the invitation, which is both obvious and genius. Very few guys do this, despite it being obvious, but it'll increase your odds a lot, because a woman is unlikely to want to go into a strange situation by herself, and also, because it's just good manners.

Now, it turns out my friends couldn't come to the bar because they were getting up early the next morning. (I was on vacation, which meant no plans that involved having to be up before 10am for me.) We told him this, so he wouldn't bring friends along to flirt with my friends, and he and I agreed we'd see each other later. I told him my name and offered him my hand to shake, which he, of course, kissed. This move can be cheesy, but in this case, it really worked, but, then, I'd already decided I'd be sleeping with him later.

Posted by ClueChick at 5:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Continuing my discussion of pick-ups and picking up random people out and about, today I'll answer G's question about how someone can successfully approach me without seeming creepy.

First, if you define a "successful" approach as one where we end up having coffee together later, or, even more challenging, having sex later, very few people manage this on a random pass. It's not that I'm not willing, but, really, how often is it that the person who chats you up is someone who catches your imagination and has the follow through to make it happen? It turns out that it's pretty rare.

So, there are two versions of success here, and the first is easier. This is where you make your move, we have an enjoyable conversation, I feel pleased that you were interested enough to strike up a conversation and totally not skeeved out by the fact that you were invading my personal space, and, with any luck, you don't feel like I kicked you in the shins (or elsewhere) with a rude rejection.

In order for me not to feel skeeved out, there are a few things over which you don't have much control, and the main one is that you don't look like you're old enough to be my dad. I know there are lots of women who go for much older guys, but I get totally creeped out by that whole social phenomenon. If you're an older guy who's into younger women, you're just going to have to deal with some of the women you approach looking at you like you're creepy, because, well, that's what we think. Sorry.

Mostly, though, you do have control, but not in the moment, over a lot of the things that can put a big red X on my split-second impression of you: Have you showered recently? If you're sweaty from playing ball with your friends, that's one thing, but if you've been marinating for a couple of days and I can tell, you're not getting anywhere. Similarly, you don't have to look like you stepped out of GQ, but it'll help if you look relatively put-together. I don't mind if you're a carpenter and you're covered with sawdust, but I might mind if you get it all over my nice suit, so if your attire is very mismatched from mine, you'll get points if you show me you're aware of it.

But, really, assuming you shower regularly and know how to operate a toothbrush, most of what matters is in the interaction. How do you get my attention? Don't, for goodness sake, grab my elbow as I walk by you. Don't touch my hair; don't grab my ass. These are all obvious, right? And, yet, I've had men do all of the above. The best thing to do is to get my attention verbally. A witty comment can be entertaining, but, really, "Hello, my name is Joe," will also work. (Unless your name is Eric, in which case, it would be confusing for you to introduce yourself as Joe.) If we're in a loud venue, it's okay to touch me lightly in an "unloaded" way (shoulder, elbow) while also saying, "Excuse me."

Once you've started the conversation, you need to remember that you started it. Don't make me carry the whole thing, because if I'd been dying to have a conversation with a stranger, I'd've started one already, right? Have a few questions ready, or a quick story, or tell me why you're approaching me. What you say matters some, but, mostly, it's how you're interacting with me that will decide me in the next 30 seconds as to whether I want to keep talking to you. Do you look me in the eye? Do you pay attention to my body language? Do you carry yourself confidently but without taking up more space than you need to? These are all great things. On the other hand, if you move in too close, or if you're awkward, you're going to make me feel awkward, too.

Unfortunately, I don't have a quick run-down on how to read body language, but I'm going to do a bit of net searching in the next few days to see if I find anything quick and useful. The main thing to remember, though, is even if you think I'm hot, I'm just a regular person. Be complimentary but not fawning. Don't treat me like a bitch, a slut or a goddess. Think of me as, oh, I don't know, a person. No, really.

Gosh, this has gotten long. Tomorrow, I'll talk about what it takes to go from pickup to the bedroom with me.

Posted by ClueChick at 4:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Thanks, guys, for your comments on who you make passes at last week. I have a two-part response, the first, which I'll write here, is a bit more about why I was asking, and the second, which I'll write in the next day or two, will answer G's question as to how someone can successfully approach me.

The reason that I asked in the first place, though, is that I get hit on a lot, but I don't really understand why. I'm basically average in terms of attractiveness. Some people find me hot, others find me unattractive, and probably most people don't notice me much one way or the other. But still, I get a lot of pick-up attempts out in the world, which can be entertaining, flattering, disturbing and baffling.

So, I got to wondering if men know why they hit on particular women. Is it a conscious thing? "She's hot, and I'd like to get to know/do her." Or is it an unconscious thing, relating to how she looks, moves, smells, or whatever? What is it about me that means I get hit on when my friends don't?

The most compelling theory is that I smile a lot, and I make eye-contact with people on the street. This probably makes me seem approachable. Also, I have a pretty "wholesome" look, which may make me less intimidating. Still, that doesn't really explain the guy who asked me to join him for coffee after riding up an escalator in front of him (presumably, he liked my ass.)

This comes up now because of the experience I had on my recent vacation, where things were more blatant than usual, which is not uncommon in my experience of tropical vacationy places, and I actually got stopped on the street more than once by a man who wanted to offer me... well, I wasn't always sure, since I didn't speak the language. But still. Meanwhile, the friends I was with didn't have such a dramatically remarkable experience, which, as you might imagine, got me thinking.

All of that also reminds me that I haven't told you all about the hot fling I had on my vacation, either. It's proof that pickups can work. But I'll have to save that story for another post, too.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I've been traveling a lot the past few weeks, which has occasioned spending more than my usual amount of time in airports, and, in particular, in the cafes and hangout spots of airports, waiting for my flight. This has given me an opportunity to observe airport pickup techniques, as well, and here's my conclusion:

The airport is not a good place to pick someone up. Okay, you want to kill some of your waiting time flirting with the cute chick sitting next to you? Great. But don't get invested. First off, no one hangs out at the airport for fun. We're all there because we're on our way somewhere or other, and we're probably cranky about not being there, yet, anyway. Then, of course, there's the fact that if you do hit it off, there's nowhere to go. Unless you're a same sex pairing, in which case, you can duck into the bahroom, airports provide painfully few options for a quickie. And, of course, you and the object of your lust are almost certainly headed in different directions.

On the other hand, flirting is a kick, and not a bad way to pass the time.

Posted by ClueChick at 2:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Although it's technically outside the realm of my original idea for this blog, you all may be subjected, in the next few days, to my glowing about my (first ever!) vacation hookup. But tonight, I'll have to do boring things like unpack.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I keep several lists:

First, there's the "top ten list," which rarely has ten people on it, but that's what I call it anyway. This is my most shallow and absurd list: These are the celebrities who are so damn hot that if the opportunity arose, I couldn't help but jump their bones, no matter how shitty their personalities or how completely dumb they are. I'm not proud of it, but there you have it. Though, to be fair, there are no Mel Gibsons or Tom Cruises on this list.

Second, there's the "free blow job" list. This one is probably the easiest list to get on, as all it takes is a good deed, a good joke, or a particularly brilliantly witty comment. This is a long list, but, so far, few of the people on it have taken me up on the offer.

Third, and more difficult to get on, is the list of men whose babies I would be willing to have. This is a very short list, currently consisting of three names, of men whose genetic contribution to the world (as judged by me, based on their genius in various realms) is important enough that, if it came to it, I'd be willing to propagate their genes. Note: this offer does not include the actual raising of said children.

Curiously, I mostly don't make lists of women. I seem only to be able to objectify men enough to make lists for them.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I can get off on namecalling in the right context. When things are loose and flowing in the bedroom, my lover can get away with calling me "slut," "bitch," or "baby". And my closest friends can get away with calling me those things just about anytime. But in the category of "holy shit the pain of the obvious," I'd like to point out that your initial email to me is not a good time to use any of these terms, or similar ones.

Another good time not to call me "slut" is when we first meet, unless you're using it in an obviously appreciative way. If you have even slightly negative feelings about slutty girls (but hope you're going to get some from one), keep your mouth shut.

Or don't. I've always wanted to throw a drink in my date's face, but I've never before had the opportunity handed to me.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

One of the (many) great things about the casual hookup, for me, is the opportunity to do things with a lover in an emotionally unloaded context. If you're anything like me on this point, you have sexual desires or interests that you want to play out but that are scarily revealing to ask of a regular lover or of someone who knows you or with whom you have an emotional entanglement. On the one hand, an emotional connection with a lover opens doors to a variety of activities that you couldn't do with a one night stand or a hoookup, but, on the other hand, that very openness closes doors to other avenues of exploration.

For me, historically, one of these has been exhibitionism. I know, it's probably surprising to all of you, who get to see me bare my slutty soul (or a portion of it, anyway), but I like to be watched.

...

Okay, maybe that's not surprising.

But, I have the damnedest time asking a lover to watch me get myself off, and it was only through super casual sex that I got to the point (now) where I can at least envision it. Why? Well, I assume my hangup has to do with feeling selfish, self-conscious, and certainly exposed, all of which are scarier with someone with whom I'm emotionally involved. Plus, I had this lover once who seemed to get bored when I was jilling off, which, no doubt, didn't help.

Just by chance, though, I recently had a hookup with a guy who first asked and then demanded that I get myself off while he watched. Now, sometimes that might be offputting, but in this case, it was just what I needed to convince me that, no, he really did want to watch me. And it has me thinking, hmm, maybe that means some other lovers would like to, too.

Now, no doubt some of you will write in saying, "Of course I like watching a woman get herself off! Have you never seen porn??" But the point here is that these hangups aren't always rational, and logic doesn't always shake them. But it turns out that a casual fuck can sometimes work wonders where wonders were never worked before.

Just as it is more convincing (though perhaps less meaningful) to be told I'm beautiful by a stranger than by my mother, hearing something from a casual sex partner can be more convincing, especially of a whole category, than someone who's invested in a sexual relationship with me.

Today, the casual lay; tomorrow, the regular lover.

Posted by ClueChick at 2:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

As I think you all know, I'm a big fan of the "friends with benefits" (FWB) arrangement. This is where the friendship doesn't depend on the sex in order to be friendly. In the best FWB, we can have sex without it making our friendship awkward or weird, and we can not have sex without it making things uncomfortable, either. To me, this is the ideal of comfort with sexuality and friendship.

Does this mean I have sex with all of my friends? Of course not. Despite the fact that I have the hottest friends ever, I don't want to sleep with all of them. In fact, at any moment, I may not want to sleep with any of them. But those people with whom I'm closest, or with whom I have the most potential for closeness, are those with whom sex isn't a barrier or a hurdle or a tool. These are people with whom I have a deep comfort and usually expect to continue that.

I like the fluidity of FWB, the appreciation of friendship and sex without obsession or fetishization of the sexual dynamic. It's easy and pleasing.

On the other hand, of course, when it goes badly, it's not just some quick lay who I can write off easily. Instead, if things go sour, the friendship suffers, so you don't just lose a fun lay but also a friend.

Still, in my experience, this is rare, if eveyone goes into the encounter openly and honestly acknowledging what's happening and what, fi any, expectations there are about the dynamic. If fyou can do that, it's certainly worth trying.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

On a whim, I recently painted my fingernails bright red. Normally, I'm more of a natural girl, and I don't bother with much in the way of makeup, but the nails are working for me, it turns out.

This has me thinking of the ways that trying on something out-of-our ordinary can help to move us into enjoying new things, or the same things in new ways.

I enjoy running my hand up my lover's thigh, but the bright red vampy nails add a whole additional level to that dynamic, and one I really didn't expect when I broke out the nail polish the other day.

The take-home lesson here, I think, is that it's good to shake things up, try new things, and do things in different-than-normal ways, because you never know what might surprise you delightfully.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Among the various warning flags I look for in early email exchanges with would-be lovers is the degree to which he seems to pay attention to what I say. I don't need a guy to remember that I said my cat was being fussy last night, but I do need him to remember that I said I don't like to be called "baby".

I don't know if it's true or not that a guy who can't be bothered to learn my preferences early on will be a guy who ignores my desires if it gets that far, but that's my working assumption, regardless. It's a bad sign if he's too hot to get his rocks off to realize that if he's not jerking himself off, it means there's another person in the equation.

I recently had an IM conversation with a guy who wanted to know when he could come over and get a blow job. Now, I like blow jobs as much as the next girl, maybe more, depending on who's next to me, and I can certainly enjoy the afternoon quickie, but I wasn't into it that day, and we hadn't met. I explained that I'd rather meet somewhere public, and he continued as though I hadn't said a thing. He could be here in an hour, he cajoled. When I demurred, he had nothing to offer but more insistence that I should say yes. Had he paid attention enough to know what I was saying, he could well have talked me into meeting him at the bar around the corner and, if all went well, a quickie after the fact.

But, no. Just as well; he sounds like a lazy lay, doesn't he?

Posted by ClueChick at 10:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well, that'll show me to talk about the details of sex! I had several comments, both public and private, telling me that you can, in fact, have anal sex without using lube. I'll rephrase my advice to say that you cannot have anal sex with me without lube, and if you're trying it for the first time with anyone, I strongly suggest that you use lube, and lots of it.

But that all just goes to show that there's a wide variety of experience, and what I say is, after all, only one perspective.

I also had one person comment asking for more details: what does anal sex feel like for a woman? Well, guys, here's the great thing about anal sex: you can find out! Since we all are ass-enabled, you, too, can give this particular specialty a try. I understand, in fact, that it's even better for guys because of the prostate. Lucky bastards.

I probably won't tell you what it's like for me, though, because I suck at writing anything that smacks of porn, and certainly getting into the details of, "And then when he slides his finger in..." counts as smacking of porn, I get all flustered and feel like I sound cheesy and ridiculous and then I have to go out and pick up some guy to blow so I can block the traumatic experience out of my mind. So I'll just skip the trauma and go right for picking up a guy, okay?

Posted by ClueChick at 5:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Yesterday was ass day here in Cluechickland: I had some friends over, and they gave me the fantastic compliment of saying that I have the Platonic ideal of an ass. Nothing makes me happy like ridiculously overstated compliments, so, naturally, I had to buy them all drinks. It was a blast. And in the afternoon, one of my favorite lovers, a fellow who responded to my very first CL ad, ever, came over and we had a great date, focusing on (as you might have guessed) anal sex.

Anal sex is the new big thing, apparently, and every third guy posting on CL seems to be looking to get some. Although what I'm about to tell you won't necessarily help you get to the point where you get to try it, I hope it will help you should you manage to get to that point on your own:

Anal sex is not like vaginal sex. The primary way this comes into play is that you're probably accustomed to, when a woman is turned on from lots of hot foreplay, putting on a condom and going to town. That's great for vaginal sex, but you're missing a couple of crucial steps when it comes to anal sex:

First, lube. Buy it, use it, love it. Anal sex is probably possible without it, but it would be excruciating. Don't do it.

Second, and equally important, warmup. Unlike a cunt, which is designed for penis-sized and -shaped objects to enter it, the ass is pretty much geared to expell somewhat more malleable objects.

I can't tell you how many of my hookups have involved a lot of fun fucking only to be followed by a clumsy and inexpert attempt to switch from one orifice to another. This is not the way to go about it. If you're among the hordes of people wanting to try anal sex, or who've tried it an want to do more of it, you need to make sure your partner is interested, and then you've got to approach it like a project. A fun project, but a project nonetheless.

Yesterday's fuck fuck pal is the first guy in ages who knew what he was doing, and I was reminded that, in fact, I like anal sex, when it's done right. You don't have to be an expert, but you should at least know the basics of the anatomy involved. Otherwise, you risk your one shot being your only shot.

Of course, I know lots of you would also like me to point out that anal sex is one of the fun ways for men and women to play with the boy getting penetrated. That's another fun thing about it! If you want that kind of hookup, bring your own toy, or be sure your lover has something appropriate.

And always remember: Lube. Warmup. It's worth it.

Also, it doesn't hurt to put down a towel.

Posted by ClueChick at 1:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I recently had this IM conversation with a would-be paramour:

thecluechick: so tell me what you like
[insert flirtatious conversation here]
dud(e): and i like to cum on a girls clit
dud(e): and then rub it around on her and in her
thecluechick: um. seriously?
dud(e): yeah, its so hot
thecluechick: well, you won't be doing that with me, because I don't want to get pregnant
dud(e): lol
dud(e): you cant get pregnant from that
thecluechick: Er. Yes, you can. Well, one can. [You can tell I'm no longer flirting when I start capitalizing and punctuating.]
dud(e): once it hits the air, nothing can happen, so as long as I cum outside first, its ok
thecluechick: Where did you learn this? Because it's totally wrong.
dud(e): in school
thecluechick: Shitty school!
dud(e): and my doctor too
thecluechick: Really? You should sue your doctor. That's wildly dangerous disinformation. Not only can you get someone pregnant that way, but there's also a high risk of STD transmission.
dud(e): i don't think so
thecluechick: You should do some research before you run around doing this with just anyone. Also, we won't be getting together.

People, really. I figure this guy made up the part about his doctor telling him that was okay because he thought I would chill out about it if a doctor had given it the thumbs up. That's sleazy and lame, but I'm more concerned about the vast lack of knowledge here. If you're going to fuck around, get your ducks in a row, and know what risks you're taking for yourself and your partners. Take responsibility for yourself by asking questions, demanding protection at a level that suits your comfort, and getting STD tests on a regular basis. And, for god's sake, please, please read up on what the risks are.

Don't be a dud.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A while back, Sapiophile asked for an update on my love and sex life. So, let me give you a quick rundown:

I had a kickass date the other night, which resulted in some fun sex, but I've decided I don't want to see the guy again; I wonder if I've become unreasonably addicted to the thrill of the first date, per my post the other day.

I have a couple of friends who I have sex with when the opportunity arises, most often, so far, at parties, which is, of course, fun, though I'm looking forward to getting together in private sometime soon, because fucking around is always different in private vs. at parties.

And though Mr. The View and I haven't been able to get together recently, we keep in touch with high hopes for hooking up again. We seem rarely to be in town at the same time.

In more serious news, I keep saying I think I want to start dating more seriously, and while intellectually, I think that's true, in practice, whenever something starts to move that way, I find myself shying away from it, so it would seem I'm not quite there these days. Maybe in the fall, or if someone awesome and hot falls into my lap.

Speaking of which, I'm enjoying a vaguely flirtatious email exchange with a long-time crush object (hi, F!), but he is, sadly, in the wrong city (or I am).

And that's pretty much all the news in my love and sex life, I think.

Posted by ClueChick at 11:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Damn, I almost forgot about you guys tonight! I met a new boy this evening, and he did several things right! It's so great:

First, his initial email was, obviously, good: He told me a bit about himself, what he was looking for, and why he liked my ad. He included a clear picture of himself that left some things to the imagination. Then, when I responded to his email, he answered all my questions, had a couple of his own, and told me more about himself.

After a few back-and-forths, I decided I'd be up for meeting him, so we set up a time this afternoon. I gave him my phone number in case of last minute changes, and when he got stuck in traffic, he called to let me know he'd be a bit late. When he showed up, he looked like his picture, was apologetic about being late, and we had a very pleasant conversation. At the end of the conversation, he made it clear that he'd like to get together again without being pushy or demanding about it. Then he gave me a very nice kiss.

Just now, he sent me an email to reiterate his enjoyment of the date and that he looks forward to seeing me.

It's all vaguely like looking for a job, somehow, what with the application, interview, and followup, and yet, his doing all these things totally makes me want to do this guy just to reward good behavior. Man, it's nice to see someone do it right for a change!

Posted by ClueChick at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I am having the most frustrating IM conversation ever. This guy responded to an ad I posted, and I wrote back asking him to tell me more about himself. He offered me his IM handle with the promise that he'd be happy to talk to me in chat.

Great! I thought. This is a handy, fast way to get the sense of someone, assuming I have the time for it, which, naturally, I don't always. But it can be good for finding out how someone interacts in a slightly more real-time setting.

In this case, however, at every opportunity to share information about himself, this guy dodged the question, sometimes direct, sometimes implied, and then would talk about something irrelevant for a few lines, and then would say something like, "But tell me about you! I don't like to talk too much."

Boooring! If you want the conversation to go a different way, ask a question. If you're not interested in the questions that someone is asking you, dodging them is okay, but if you dodge every one of their questions, they're going to suspect that you're doing it on purpose. And, in the case of this person being a woman evaluating if she wants to fuck you, it's possible, just possible, that she's asking questions that she needs answered in order to make that decision. Dodging the question in lieu of giving the wrong answer is a fine thing to do once, but if that's your entire conversational strategy, it's unlikely to get you laid.

it certainly won't get you into my pants.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was thinking today, as I was avoiding doing my paying job, that I don't think I've talked about how it is I discovered the Casual Encounters section of Craig's List in the first place. Back in the day, of course, I was as sweet and innocent as... well, okay, even then I wasn't exactly sweet and innocent, but I had been dating the same person for ages and really wasn't interested in casual sex because I was sure it just wasn't for me.

One of my friends -- you all know her, in fact, as it's the one and only sapiophile -- told me about the CE section in a somewhat disbelieving voice. I was amazed and delighted to hear of such a thing, but I was also confused. Could there possibly be, I wondered, enough people who look for that sort of thing to support a whole section on Craig's List? I looked, and by gum, there certainly was.

Satisfied with my sociological discovery, carried on with my life.

Some months later, I had my first one night stand, completely spontaneously and somewhat by accident (I would have seen him again, though if I'd known then what I know now, I wouldn't have been willing to), and I really enjoyed it. By then, I was single and had no desire to be dating, but I suddenly saw the light with regards to casual sex. Well, thought I, OkCupid delivered the first one, but how do I find more of these guys? (Have I told you all about my first one night stand? I don't remember.)

Then I remembered some vague memory about Craig's List, a sociological discovery, and bafflement at people who would look for this very thing.

Aren't I lucky that someone else thought of it before I did, so all I had to do was sign on?

Posted by ClueChick at 9:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had a new-to-me experience in meeting people online last week: I met someone I already know.

It's a little surprising, actually, that in the course of more than a year of fairly actively pursuing hookups, this is the first time I've had someone I know (and have flirted with) answer my ad. Actually, that may not be true, because I didn't recognize his email address, since he (cleverly) was using an anonymous address through hotmail. For all I know, lots of guys I know have written me but not passed the bar of people who get a response, or have heard back from me, realized who I am, and decided they didn't want to deal with someone they know in negotiating casual sex.

That last sounds funny, but it turns out I'm having that reaction, myself. I can have a great time in the context of a friends-with-benefits sort of thing with someone I already know as a friend. And I can enjoy developing either a fling or a fwb with someone new. But people in a middle ground, acquaintances, are a whole different story. I find that they know too much about me (and/or my social sphere) for me to be totally "yeah, whatever" with them, but not enough for me to be able to open up and be relaxed.

I've run into this hesitation on my part in other contexts of information sharing (i.e., I don't care what strangers know about me, and my friends basically know everything, but people I know socially are the ones I wouldn't want to find out about this, that or the other.) But this is, fascinatingly, the first time I've encountered it specifically with regards to personal ads. It makes an interesting (I hope) blog entry, but beyond that, I think I'd've been just as happy to skip it.

Though, if you're that hot guy I've been lusting after, I'd be willing to make an exception if you respond to my ad. Write now!

Posted by ClueChick at 3:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You know what's a big let down? When a guy is really fantastic via email -- responds to my ad intelligently and coherently, strikes up an interesting and engaging conversation, proposes a convenient time and place to meet after a reasonable number of emails back and forth -- and then turns out to be a total dud in person.

I suspect that the issue is that online, lots of the people who are shy or less experienced can let go of their inhibitions and be relaxed and interesting (that can certainly be the case for me; I'm not nearly so interesting in person as I seem here!) and then they freeze up in person.

On the one hand, I'm really sympathetic. On the other hand, if you spend our whole first meeting avoiding eye contact and blurting out strange bits of trivia while looking like you'd like nothing more than to escape, it's going to be hard for me to get excited about meeting up with you again.

Try to relax. After all, I'm just a woman. I only bite when asked nicely to do so.

Posted by ClueChick at 11:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've had plenty of casual encounters, obviously, of various flavors. Some of them have been one night stands, while others have been occasional get-togethers over the course of several months. But none of them, until just now, have been with women.

Oh, sure, I've thought about it, but I've come to the conclusion that casual sex won't work well with the way I interact with women. Normally, if there's a woman I connect well with, I find her attractive, but I'm more interested in making the kind of connection that leads to more serious relationships, whether friendly or romantic.

I've talked (mostly to myself) about the difference between a casual relationship and casual sex. One, after all, can have casual sex within the context of a committed relationship, or a casual relationship that contains very committed sex.

Well, now is my big chance to see how this plays out for me in the context of my expectations about women and how I interact with them: a beautiful woman picked me up at a party last weekend, and though she says she doesn't want to be dating anyone seriously (that sounds familiar), she sure would like to get together for some hot sex with me every now and again. And I find myself hoping we can pull it off.

Stay tuned to see if I can prove myself wrong.

Posted by ClueChick at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So I met a new guy this evening. He pointed out that he first responded to my ad in February and we only just managed to meet today. Sometimes, scheduling for this casual shit is weirdly difficult. But, anyway, we finally met, and it was fun!

This is one of the few guys I've talked to who has posted ads on CL and gotten "a fair number of responses" to them. I told him he should forward them to me so I can see what I think (and validate my advice along the way!) I'll let you know if what he's been writing completely opposes everything I've advised until now.

But I don't think it will, and I'll tell you why. We were talking about how best to respond to ads, and he said, "I've never really understood those guys who just have a generic script. I mean, you read the ad, then you respond to the ad. And to do that, you have to talk about the ad. So the generic thing doesn't work."

This guy totally gets a ClueChick Seal of Approval. The application of that seal involves latex. And possibly lube. It should be great fun.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A couple of people have commented, in response to yesterday's post, that my telling this guy that I was thinking about things made for mixed signals, and I'd have to say that's true. While I was, in fact, taking that time to think about things, I'm sure that from his perspective, it was just foot-dragging.

That said, I'd like to talk a bit about psychological manipulation. I don't know if he was pulling some of these tricks intentionally, or if he's just picked them up along the way in life, but there are two little moves he pulled that are enough to set my teeth on edge.

First, when I told him that I was done with things, he said he felt bad about it. This is an obvious plea to the "female as caretaker". Women are socialized to be (please note that I'm not saying this is biological or in any way deterministic) nurturers and peacemakers. We're encouraged to care about how people feel, and to help people feel better when they're sad. Therefore, telling a woman that you feel bad as a result of her actions is a quick way to trigger what may be a totally unconscious desire to solve the problem and make you feel better. Of course, if you actually do feel bad, and you have a relationship where it's appropriate for her to help you feel better, this can be a totally reasonable and non-manipulative way to deal with emotions. In the "breakup" of a casual thing, not so much.

Second, when that didn't work to get me to change my mind, he told me I was being cold. Now, no one wants to be called cold in interpersonal interactions (okay, almost no one), and furthermore, this is another trigger that goes against many women's socialized desire to be warm, friendly, and appreciated. In fact, this is a psychological trick used by abusers of all stripes, from con artists on the streets to lovers: If you tell someone they're doing something that goes against some accepted social norm, they'll go out of their way to prove you wrong. Pulling this card on me has never ended well for my sparring partner, and it definitely closed the door on any questions I might have had about ending this with this fellow.

I don't have a witty closing, here, but I will sum up by saying that passive aggressive is never sexy.

Posted by ClueChick at 4:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I could swear I was going to write something thoughtful and interesting today, but, instead, I am peeved. Sorry.

So, there's this guy who I've seen a few times, starting about a year ago. He was fun, cute, smelled good, but after the first few visits, it became clear that he wasn't all that creative. A nice enough guy, it really didn't seem to occur to him that our get-togethers could use a different script than make out, blow job, fuck, leave. Now, I'm a big fan of these things, but I like to mix it up a bit, so my enthusiasm for him began to wane.

Combine that with the fact that our schedules seemed diametrically opposed and you come up with dates that are hard to arrange and not that inspiring when they happen, anyway. Not a great combination. So a couple of months ago, I told him I was going to take a break from things. He seemed fine with this.

But then, a couple of weeks ago, he started IMing me with some regularity (i.e., 3 or 4 times a week) to see if I wanted to get together. I actually considered it because, hey, sex! But in the end, I decided that I really wasn't interested in going back there with him. Guys take note: part of the reason I wasn't interested is that although I'd told him I wanted to think about things, he kept pestering me to see him while thinking about it, or he'd say, "Okay, well, let me know," and then two days later, poke me again as though I might have forgotten about him. When I said I wanted to think about what I wanted, he said, "Okay, but how 'bout I come over during my lunch hour and we can play while you're thinking?"

His ability to hear and understand the concept of "no" had not, fortunately, come up earlier in our acquaintance. I say fortunately, because he obviously did not actually have that ability, and there are a number of very unforunate ways that it might have come up. On the other hand, if I'd known at the beginning just how no-deficient he was, it would have saved me some aggravation.

Anyway, he IMed me today to suggest we get together, and I told him I'd decided I wasn't interested in pursuing things with him any further. He then took the mature and thoughtful approach of trying to guilt and pressure me into changing my mind. First, he said he felt bad about it. Then, he said he thought we had something real, not just casual. Then, he told me I was being cold. And when I laughed at him for that, he told me I was rude.

It's too bad, too, because I did have fond memories of him. Now, though, I kind of wish I could retroactively reject him from the get-go.

Posted by ClueChick at 5:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

As you may have gathered, I'm pretty up-front about sex and sexuality. Especially after having done the casual sex thing for a while, I'm even more difficult to nonplus with regards to odd interests and tastes. As I mentioned in yesterday's response to wotw's question, his comment about liking to stick weird things in women made me think of a fellow who ran up against my forthrightness in an unfortunate way.

Let me set the stage:

It's midsummer, and the weather is hot and sticky. This causes me to spend a lot of time lounging around my house as close to naked as I can manage and not feel icky sitting on the furniture. And then, naturally, spending all that time in states of undress causes my mind to drift to sexual topics fairly constantly. So, I'm in this state when this fellow IMs me to strike up a conversation. He liked my profile on some dating site or other and in that profile, I'd said something about being open-minded.

This, naturally, led us to talking about fantasies, and as he got comfortable, he told me that he gets off on thinking about fucking women with weird objects: the weirder the better. Now, the way he's talking about this makes me think that he thinks this is really strange. I, on the other hand, happen to know that a) it's not at all unusual and b) I think it's hot. So I say as much to him, which leaves him completely flabbergasted and at a loss for words. He stuttered a little something and signed off.

A couple of days later, he was, of course, back, and we talked more about his fantasies, what was interesting to me, what wasn't, etc. Now, something that you all may or may not do, but I definitely do, is that I give people nicknames. I'm especially prone to doing this before someone is totally "real" to me. That is, early in getting to know someone, before she or he is fully fleshed out in my head, I create a nickname. This is often related to their work, or some interest they have, or some other characteristic. Some of the nicknames you might hear about down the line are: The Cop, Baseball Boy, The Brazilian. And, of course, you all know about Mr. The View.

At any rate, this fellow was, naturally, "Insertibles Guy". This was before I'd started this blog, but not before I'd begun entertaining the idea of writing a book or blog about my adventures, and I mentioned the idea to him. He thought it was a great idea, and he asked if I'd write about him. Of course! I told him, unless that would bother him? He said it would be fine, but only if I didn't use his name. Oh, no, I assured him, everyone would have nicknames, anyway.

And that's when I told him what his nickname was. Now, I have to say, I wasn't saying it to mock him for his interest. In fact, it was fun to be talking to someone who was just beginning to explore some of his stranger fantasies. However, I overlooked the fact that, as a newly minted explorer, he was not actually totally comfortable with his kinks, and he blanched when I told him. Via IM, he gave me one of those blushing emoticons (I didn't know, before that, that there was a smiley that blushes!) and signed off immediately.

Sadly, I didn't hear from him again. The lesson for me: Just because someone can talk about their secret desires doesn't mean he's ready to face them head-on. Which is too bad, because if he'd stuck around, odds are good that we could have knocked a few items off his "to do" list.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, there are typos in your response to a personal ad. Big deal, right? I mean, we all do it from time to time (even I! Thanks to those of you who've pointed out my occasional typo!), and everyone can read what you meant to say, even if you munged a few letters...

Well, almost everyone. It turns out that the occasional absent-minded reading of a typo can cause great confusion. To wit:

Yesterday, I received an email approach saying, among other things, "I'd also like to try try some ana with you, how about youl?"

Now, it's probably obvious to everyone what "ana" means, in this context, right? Well, not me. Call me dense, or oblivious, or I-don't-know-what, but... I didn't draw the obvious conclusion. Instead, I thought, "Hm, I wonder what "ana" is? I know "tina" is amphetamine..."

Aside: I've never used recreational drugs, and I don't get a lot of exposure to them, so I'm used to not "getting" drug slang. This doesn't explain why my mind went there, but I do regularly get invitations to "go skiing" or smoke a joint as part of our get together, so maybe that's it.

At any rate, I Googled it, with no luck, and then asked some friends:

cluechick: What drug is "ana" slang for?
helpful: Not as in "pro-ana"?
cluechick: No, as in a drug
cluechick: I know it's slang for a drug, but I don't remember which one
helpful: Anabolic steroids?
also-helpful: That would have been my guess
also-helpful: You're sure it's a drug? I've heard it as slang for 'anorexia'
helpful: that's what I wondered but she said no :)
also-helpful: oh, i see
cluechick: yes, sure it's a drug
cutiepie: maybe epinephrine?
cutiepie: (I'm searching google for "ana drug", which is not very clear)
cluechick: yeah, I searched for "drug slang"
cluechick: but none of those lists include it
cluechick: so maybe it's new, or a typo, or I'm misunderstanding what, "Maybe you'd like to do a bit of ana" means
cluechick: maybe it's a sex act
helpful: anal.
also-helpful: anal
also-helpful: jinx!
helpful: if this is in casual-sex mail, that seems far the most likely reading :)
cluechick: oh. duh

Seriously! Duh.

But, after laughing at me, you all can take a lesson here: typos actually do matter. Usually, it's no big deal, but other times... well, you may be sending a message entirely different from what you mean.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of the fun things about casual sex is the fluidity of the relationships involved. My favorite fuckbuddies are those with whom I can make plans at the last minute, or not, or make plans and not stress about when we'll next manage to make plans, just counting on the fact that when we're both interested and available, we'll find the time.

On the other hand, though, there are the occasional frustrations along these lines. For example, Mr. The View drops into town about once a month, and it's almost always when I'm already committed to other plans. One of my personal practices is that I never drop plans with a friend in favor of a booty call, no matter how frisky I'm feeling. Mr. The View is, unfortunately, rather a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of planner, and I tend to be busy, so we often miss each other.

Because I'm an optimist, I like to look on the bright side and figure that this simply heightens the anticipation for those times when we do manage to connect. And in the meantime, perhaps tonight's date will benefit from a little of my frustration.

Posted by ClueChick at 4:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had big plans last night to post about a couple of tips you guys can use to help weed out the spam "w4m" ads on Craig's List, but I'm afraid I got sidetracked. I really can't recommend sex toys highly enough.

A few years ago, I was working in a fairly relaxed office, with some rowdy people, one of whom (the boss of pretty much everyone in that office) was going through a stressful but mostly amicable divorce. She came in one day feeling generally grouchy and out of sorts, and my direct supervisor finally asked her what the heck was going on. She explained that she was starting to feel some of the frustrations of being single.

At the time, I was also single, and in my early 20s, so, of course, I had a suggestion. "Go to Good Vibrations!" I said. "They're just around the corner!"

She looked at me in amazement. She was in her late 40s and had never owned a sex toy. In fact, it had never even occurred to her as an option. "People use those things???" she boggled.

"People don't???" I boggled right back.

She did not go shopping that day, but she did, eventually, venture out into the world to explore her options. The great thing about sex toys, though, is that they're good for when you're alone or with a partner. They're a great way to learn new things that you like, and to explore with a lover.

There's not always room for that kind of exploration in a casual sex context, but when there is, it's totally worth taking, because you never know what tips and tricks you might pick up.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday, I got an email, perhaps inspired by Sunday's post asking, "What's the weirdest thing one of your people has asked you to do?"

Before I answer this question, I want to make a general statement:

People, be careful what you ask me, because I'm basically an open book, here, and some of you aren't going to like what you read.

So you should only keep reading if you're really sure you want to know the weirdest thing (by my lights) that a lover has asked me to do since the commencement of my little fling with casual sex.

Okay, you're still reading, so I'll tell you: About six months ago, there was a guy who presented as basically normal, and who was generally fun in bed, when we got to that. But he really took me by surprise when, mid-fuck, he asked me to spit in his mouth. I mean, I know people get off on all kinds of things, and intellectually, I get the appeal of the spitting thing, but in practice? It's not so much my thing. Of course, as the spitter, it's pretty low-impact; it would've been different if he'd wanted me to be the spittee. Needless to say, though I found his request weird, it was also easy to accommodate.

I'm sure some of the other things I've been asked to do would rate higher on some people's weird scales, but that one definitely took the cake for me.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Last night, my date gave me one of the top ten compliments I've ever received:

"You're like a porn star, but without the skeevy!"

Needless to say, today I'm feeling smug.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We all know the line, "No means no." And that's an easy one, right? Of course no means no. Except, naturally, when no means, "Talk me into it," or "Well, maybe, if I have a little more time to think about it."

The problem, here, is not just with men ignoring women when they say no, but women saying no when they mean something else. Women, you can help by saying no when you mean no, but not otherwise. Find another way to flirtatiously suggest that he should work harder if that's what you want. A flippant head-toss and a vague, "I don't know," is better than a flirtatious, "No..." Men, you can help by backing off when a woman says no. Even if it really seems like she doesn't mean it, you can act like she does. If you really want to keep flirting, ask her for clarification. If she has any good sense at all, she'll be chagrined when you point out that saying but not meaning no is a recipe, on a social level, for disaster.

Also, guys, it may be hard to believe, but sometimes a woman really means no. I often try to let people down easy, because I know it's hard to be rejected, but this, not infrequently, results in the hard sell.

I say, "I just don't think we're a good match."
And he says, "But why?" (Guys, never ask why. Trust me.)
"It's not doing anything for me."
"Oh, give me a chance..."

After trying to let him down gently, I resort to the big guns, "No, I'm really not interested. Have a good day!" And even then, he often tries to talk me into ... something.

This is lame. I know that there are all kinds of mixed signals in the dating game, but there's nothing that makes me want to hang a guy upside down by his toenails like having him treat me like I don't know what I really want. And when he ignores my saying no, it only reinforces my decision that he's not the man for me, since if he can't even respect me enough to take me at my word, I don't see how I'd ever be right to trust him in future encounters.

Posted by ClueChick at 3:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

One of the things I've been wondering about, for myself, is how my casual sex experiment (which began almost exactly a year ago! happy anniversary to me and casual sex!) would develop if/when I started to date someone on a more regular basis.

Until relatively recently, if you had asked me if I was ready to start dating again, I'd've said, with horror in my voice, "No!" More recently, I started saying, "Okay, I might be getting close to considering the possibility of maybe thinking about pondering the theoretical potential that I might be starting to think about maybe seeing someone more seriously. Maybe." More recently still, I seem to have, in fact, started, um, dating someone.

Don't tell anyone!

Just kidding, of course. Everyone who should know, knows already. And, yes, he knows about the blog. (*wave*)

In the past, when I've been in a steady-type relationship, I haven't had any interest in casual sex, but, then, I hadn't been interested in casual sex before those relationships, either. So I'm quite curious to see if I remain interested in having casual/light play with others, even in the context of this relationship. You all should stay tuned for details.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As anyone who participates in casual encounters knows, sometimes you're pickier than others. For me, unsurprisingly, this tracks to my horniness. Some weeks, I can't wait to get some, and other weeks, I'm only interested in sex if there's not a lot of work between me and it. For you, the man responding to my personal ad, this will have a huge impact on your likelihood of success. If I'm particularaly horny, my bar goes down, while when I'm a little more laid-back, I get very picky and start looking for a lot of specifics, little details that fit my mood.

Once, when I was feeling a bit more flirty, I got one of those toss-off emails that doesn't normally turn my head, but I figured, hey, it's easy to send a quick response that doesn't take much effort. This turned into a rapid-fire series of flirtatious emails, and before I knew it, we were talking about meeting up at a cheezy coffee shop near my house. And, by the way, says he, you sound pretty frisky. Should I bring a friend?

Now, a couple of people have emailed me asking how to set up threesomes, and I'd love to give advice on that, but the one time I actually have arranged a threesome, it wasn't by design: I was, as he noted, pretty frisky, and he had a handy friend, and I was game, so off we went! Since then, I've tried a couple of times to post specifically for couples, of various gender configurations, and it turns out that planning ahead for this sort of thing seems to be a bit of a challenge.

Conveniently, my young bucks, as I call them, ring me up every few weeks, and if we're all free, it comes together (cough) nicely. Timing is, indeed, everything.

Posted by ClueChick at 12:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Sometimes, when you're browsing personal ads, what you're looking for isn't an actual hookup. Lots of people post looking for netsex or phone sex or photo exchanges. These are all things you can get by paying for them, but there can be an extra charge in doing those things with "real" people rather than professionals. Obviously, the theory behind finding someone who's not a pro at it is that you can hope and imagine that the other person is enjoying it as much as you are, not just for the paycheck.

I'm no good at phone sex, because, believe it or not, I'm shy about talking about sex out loud. I did a lot of netsex when I was in college, but not so much recently. But I do have a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and a friend with a great camera, who took some really hot photos of me recently. (Never let it be said I'm modest.) So, every once in a while, some guy posts to CL about wanting to exchange pics, and if I'm in a flirty mood, I might take him up on it.

One fellow, in particular, posted in my city despite living in another city, thus making it clear that he would never expect to meet up. He wanted pictures of body parts, not necessarily faces, and I thought, hey, why not? So I sent him a photo, and almost immediately, I got an email back from him completely gushing over how great it was, and did I have another? Yes, of course I did, and we had a fun little exchange about my photos and his appreciation of them.

This was great fun. I love being on the receiving end of enthusiastic compliments, and he clearly loved being on the receiving end of my photos. It was a low-pressure, win-win situation. Sometimes, that's just the thing.

Posted by ClueChick at 2:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I would dearly love to give you all an insightful, thought-provoking post tonight, but in about half an hour, I have a cute boy coming over, and I need to do all those things a woman likes to do before a date: make sure the latex is within reach, there's a glass of water by the bed, and check the batteries in her vibrator.

What's that? You guys don't know how to operate a vibrator? Run out and learn. Yes, lots of women don't need a vibrator to get off, but some do, and in any case, they can be quite a lot of fun. They come in all shapes and sizes, and some of them are even designed for men while others, delightfully, are operated by a remote control. Imagine the possibilities!

Posted by ClueChick at 8:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Now, of course, I don't particularly advocate giving people a second chance on the stand-up issue, so I'm not, probably, going to have all that much constructive advice for those of you who have stood someone up and want another shot. On the other hand, I have given second chances, and I know that sometimes they can work out well. So let's just take it as a given that it's not a foregone conclusion that a stand-up must be the end of things and go from there.

If you have stood someone up, there are two primary possiblities: one, you're a jerk and you just didn't care to call and cancel, or, even worse, you like thinking of someone waiting for you. In this case, I'd like you to stop reading my blog and go stuff your head up your ass... oh, wait, too late! Sorry. The second possibility is that you have a reasonable explanation: you were exhausted and fell asleep, so you couldn't call, or you had to help an aging relative and lost track of time, or what have you. Even these explanations, of course, still leave the general sense that you are not, in fact, hot for your date, if you could so easily forget about plans with her, but these things do happen.

Assuming the latter, here's what you should do:

Explain, don't excuse. If you spend too much time trying to make it look like you couldn't have done anything else, you'll look like a jerk.

Apologize. I can't stress this one enough. You screwed up, and the only thing for you to do is to give a good, sincere apology.

Offer another date, this time going well out of your way for her. If she spent time waiting for you last time, this is the least you can do.

Show up. Standing someone up a second time is beyond lame. Trust me on this.

Don't be surprised if, even so, you don't get another shot. Take this as a lesson and move on. Don't stand people up in the future.

Posted by ClueChick at 9:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After Friday's post, one of my readers asked, "And?...Did you go home alone?..."

I'm tempted to play coy and make you all guess, but I'm not actually very good at coy, other than in some rather fun bedroom games from time to time. So, instead, I'll tell you:

Yes, I did go home alone Friday night, by my choice. After a fantastic evening with friends, I walked home, watched the end of a Law & Order rerun (my TV addiction) and went to bed, all before midnight. One of the funny things about having grown up in the past few years is that I no longer attach stigma to a night alone. In fact, sometimes, that's what I choose, very specifically, because it's what I want. (Yes, I'm one of those famed introverts who occasionally needs some alone time to recharge.)

An important part, for me, about approaching sex and relationships in a healthy way is to be aware of what it is that I need on any given day. Sure, a hot hookup may sound like just the thing, but sometimes, what will really keep my mood on track is to mellow out with a couple of close friends, or just by myself. Striking a balance is an important thing, in all kinds of contexts.

So, on Friday, after having what was, overall, a fantastic meal, I walked home and relaxed. Happily, I'm beyond the age where I get social validation out of having a date or a hookup or what have you. And I don't miss junior high at all.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's Friday night, finally, after a long week here in ClueLand, and I'm looking forward to an evening out. I'm going to be meeting up with friends at what's said to be a pretty happening tapas place near me. I love tapas, you shouldn't be surprised to learn, because it's a delight to be able to try lots of different things. Tapas is, in essence, the food equivalent to casual sex: each encounter is just long enough to get the flavor. You get a few bites, savor them, and move on to the next dish. Some dishes, you might share with friends. Others are so good that you want to keep them to yourself. The rich, creamy, delightful ones you might have to order a couple of times before you eat your fill.

I'm also looking forward to the atmosphere, because, in my experience, tapas joints tend to be popular with a young and energetic crowd, which makes them noisy and boistrous. I'm not always in the mood for that, but after a week of browsing the online ads, it's always entertaining to see how people's come-ons work in person. I'll just have a pitcher of sangria with my dinner, but I love the people watching opportunities to be had in places like this. It'll be great.

Then, of course, I'll come home, alone, or maybe not, but certainly, by the end of the evening, I'll be completely sated, whether by delicious tapas or delicious "tapas".

Posted by ClueChick at 6:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I've been enjoying people's comments on yesterday's post. In case it wasn't clear, I was annoyed, by the man in question, but not particularly offended. His issues with sluttiness are his, and I decline to make them my problem. It's good to know my readers are above that sort of thing, though!

In truth, I'm completely comfortable with the term "slut" as I apply it to myself, and as many of my close friends do, too. But it's an ongoing frustration to run into men -- men I meet in the context of a mutual search for casual sex -- who obviously can't get over their own madonna/whore issues. One fellow told me that he'd love to get together with me, but wondered how many other lovers I would have at the same time? I told him I didn't particularly count, either as a goal or a limitation, and that it might be none or it might be many. He left that conversation quite disturbed.

When you pick up a woman on CE, you're not picking up a girlfriend. Yes, sure, you never know what might happen, but you can't expect to start your relationship with her on terms like, "I'll be your one and only." She's looking for something casual for a reason, and despire popular cultural assumptions to the contrary, not all women are looking for sex only as a means to find a husband.

I like to think I'm pretty good at picking up when a guy has internal conflict on the good/bad girl issue that's going to spill into his interactions with me, but I haven't always been. It's an annoyance, but in the end, I feel bad for those guys, who are sketching themselves an impossible split: there are the women they fuck and the women they marry... well, that split is going to make it awfully hard for them to find a sing lifelong partner who will satisfy them, and they're never, so far as I can tell, looking for an out-of-the-box kind of arrangement like polyamory. Not to mention that I don't know any consensually nonmonogamous folks who would intentionally enter into a sexless marriage on the theory that, "Well, this one I'll marry and all the rest I'll fuck," regardless of the gender dynamics at play.

Posted by ClueChick at 4:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I was recently talking to a friend of mine about the realization that, you know what? I'm pretty slutty. I haven't had any particular hangups about the concept of slut, or sluttiness for quite some time. A lot of the women I spend time with happily identify as sluts, or as having been slutty in the past, and that's something they're quite comfortable with.

For a long time, I was a "good girl" by almost anyone's definition of the term, and for some of that time, that was important to me, that I be good, by some external, socially accepted metric, even if I rejected that metric when applied to other people.

So, when I started picking up men on the internet, I had to change the way I saw myself, and the way I related to words like "slut" and "easy" and all the other four (or more) letter words that are used to denigrate women who like sex and take charge of their sexual lives without much, if any, regard to social mores. I'm lucky, because of who (most of) my friends were, and are, this was a very positive change, but for a lot of people, even progressive, forward-thinking young people, the idea of a slutty woman is still quite negative.

I had a man, recently, after a play date with me, tell me that it was fun, but he didn't really like sluts, so it was only a one-time thing. This, as you might imagine, left me flabbergasted. I make no bones about being a slut, or being easy; after all, I post it on the internet, specifically with the intent of practicing my sluttish arts of fucking and sucking. So, to him, apparently, a slut is good once. Needless to say, this pissed me off.

What's the male equivalent of a slut? That certainly would apply to him, no? One of the things that drives me crazy in the gender politics of casual sex, is the double standard: a woman who engages in casual sex is dirty, or bad, but a man who does the same is a stud, admirable.

Do you go out with a slut, or do you keep her at home? She's good for a lay, but not for a date, where people might see you with her, perhaps?

I challenge all of you, my readers, to think about the ways that you may challenge or perpetuate these social patterns in your behaviors and attitudes. And then report back to me, because I'm curious.

Posted by ClueChick at 6:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I was greatly surprised to come home from lunch this afternoon and discover an email from one of those national florist networks saying that someone wanted to send me flowers, and can they (the florists) act as a middleman so the giver can remain anonymous and I don't have to give him or her my physical address?

I didn't know florists went to such lengths.

Whoever it was: Thank you very, very much. I'm flattered!

Unfortunately, I hate cut flowers. My little jab at them on Valentine's Day was not just to be funny. I actually do think they're one of those pointless sectors of commerce that is mostly actively bad. It's bad for the people who grow and handle the flowers, and it's bad for the environment, because of... okay, wait, I'm here to give advice on casual sex, not environmentalism and my politics. I'll refrain. Suffice it to say that, though I love scents, and flowers, I can't compost cut flowers, and I don't like throwing them in the trash.

When I started this blog, I fantasized that I'd have fans, and I even created a little wish list for if I ever got famous and people wanted to send me things. But I didn't actually think that it would happen. So I'm feeling quite thrilled, down to the tips of my clue-toes. Thanks, anon!

Posted by ClueChick at 4:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

In Confirming my expectations, I wrote about meeting up with a guy who I'd initially pegged as not a good match, and I found him to be... not a good match. In comments on that post, Cos asked if the opposite ever happens. The answer is yes, but rarely.

The truth is, it might have the potential to happen a lot. I could completely suck in my initial filtering process and be discarding men left and right who would simply blow the top of my head off with the heat of our sexual spark. Once I've decided that he's not that interesting to me, however, we're very, very unlikely to get to that point. I have a lot of inertia to overcome to get to the first meeting with almost any guy, and if I'm not pretty psyched about the potential, the odds of my actually doing so are quite slim. So, it probably happens more than I know, that I toss the good apples out with the bad in my early sorting.

Despite that, occasionally, a very determined fellow gets through, or creeps back into the fold, usually by sending me friendly, non-pushy emails or IMs that are hard to ignore but don't make me feel guilty about having nixed him. (If I feel guilty, I don't enjoy talking to the person who makes me feel that way, and I avoid the whole thing as much as possible.) Sometimes, my first take on these guys, as I reported last week, is right, and that's ok, but kind of a bummer for me, and, no doubt, a big bummer for them, since they've put a lot of time into bringing me around to the point of meeting them.

Other times, however, it turns out that he's fabulous, and by the end of our meeting, I can't remember why I decided not to meet him months ago in the first place. This hapened to me just a couple of days ago: I had initially spoken to this fellow, wow, last summer or fall, perhaps. We had some fun IM chats, but for some reason that I no longer recall, I decided that we weren't looking for the same thing. He was a bit younger, had a girlfriend (but she knows, and so it's all on the up-and-up, which is a must for me) and just didn't zing my "good match" meter. So, we fell out of contact.

Every once in a while, he would drop me a line on IM, we might have a fun chat, he'd point me to some hot erotica, and I'd tell him what I thought of it, but, still, I thought we weren't on the same page, and by then, I'd convinced myself that I wasn't his type at all, so there's no point in bothering. Men don't like older women, after all. (Yes, I know that's completely wrong; no one's internal workings are always right. Sue me.)

For the last couple of weeks, though, he's been pushing hard for us to meet, and some of those recent conversations have shown that we have a surprising amount in common. In fact, he's one of those rare guys who's my friend-type as well as, possibly, my fuck-type. So, okay, let's meet. And when we did... Hello! This man is very attractive, smart, charming, friendly. I'm actually a little shy (shocking, I know), so first meetings are tough for me, but with him, I felt at ease almost immediately, and I greatly enjoyed having a drink with him. I certainly plan to get together with him again, and I hope the feeling is mutual.

So, yes, sometimes I'm wrong. If ever anyone comes up with a good way to avoid this kind of time-wasting mistake, please, by all means, let me know about it.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There are a lot of things to like about casual sex, as anyone who's had it knows. And one of those things, for me, is the proliferation of first kisses I get in this context. I suppose that I could just go around kissing the people I find attractive in day to day life, but I'm pretty sure that would be frowned upon at the office. "Hey, you're cute! *smooch* Oh... you're thinking about investing in the company...? Well... um... we're very friendly!"

In the context of casual hookups, it's not weird to kiss very early on in my acquaintance with someone, and there is simply nothing like a first kiss to give me a thrill. One of the things that often happens, and that I like very much, is that the guy will be very confident and chatty throughout our meeting, but as we arrive at the moment to kiss or not to kiss, he freezes up, unsure of what to do. For whatever reason, I find that moment's hesitation surprisingly endearing. On the other hand, I also like the guy who doesn't hesitate, who knows he wants to kiss me, and goes for it.

The truth is, if we've gotten to the point where I'm looking forward to kissing you, you're pretty well golden.

Kissing is a whole nother language, and it's a delight to learn another's tongue. Do you start soft and tentative, or do you dive in and get wet all at once? Do you close your eyes and savor the sensations, or do you like to keep your eyes open and watch the blurry outlines of your lover's face close to yours? Do you press up against your lover's body for a full-contact experience, or do you like to take it slow, just running your hand over her neck, down her side, resting at the curve of her hip?

Kissing is like eating out -- I like variety and different flavors, and I love the opportunity, in casual encounters, to try many different cuisines along the way.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've gotten myself into a little bind, and it's entirely because I haven't been listening to my good advice to other people. Let me explain:

There's this fellow who I've been fucking in a very, very casual way, for about 6 months. We've gotten together as much as a couple of times a month and as little as not at all for a couple of months -- it just depends on how our schedules and hormones line up. It's been fun.

We haven't seen each other since the holidays -- things were very busy during that time, of course, and then his job got busy, and then mine did. So we finally touched base last week long enough for him to say, "Hey, long time no see. Wanna fuck?" and me to respond, "This week isn't good, but next week, I'll drop you a line!"

Great, right?

Except, later that evening, I realized I don't want to fuck him again. He's been fun, but the truth is, he's not hugely creative, and he's not... well, he's really only average smart, which is enough to sustain my interest very briefly (if he manages to catch it in the first place). The truth is, he's only been around as long as he has because we see each other so infrequently.

But, of course, I told him last week that I'd be up for getting together again. So, now, I have to play the fickle woman card, which, of course, I hate. It would have been much better if I'd realized before that conversation that I was no longer interested. This, it would seem, is one of the down sides of the ultra-casual thing -- out of sight, out of mind. If I'd stopped to think about it, I'm sure I'd've realized before our conversation that he was no longer blowing my hair back. But why would I bother to think about it if I wasn't planning to make plans with him?

Yes, this is a clear lack of foresight. The end result?

I'm going to have to catch him on IM in the next couple of days and let him know that, much as I've enjoyed our hookups (and I have), it's no longer what I'm looking for, and good luck, have a great life. All of which would go better without last week's misleading conversation hinting at making plans. This is a good lesson for me to spare a thought for my idle boys out there in the field, not to let them languish too long, one way or the other.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I was going to talk about politics again tonight, but then I decided it was time for something a little more fun.

What you all don't know about me is that I haven't always been unrepentantly slutty. In fact, for many years, I was the very picture of modesty and so-called proper behavior. Even through most of college, I wasn't interested in dating the sorts of prospects I had, so... I didn't. I didn't start having sex until my 20s, and as of a year ago, I had slept with a grand total of four people (unless you count fisting, in which case, five).

So, what brought me to my current status as a vocal proclaimer of casual sex?

I had, a couple of months prior, broken up with a long-term boyfriend, and I had absolutely no desire to get involved in a serious way with anyone new. I had always figured that I just wasn't cut out for casual sex, and I was fine with that. But one slow night at home, I logged in on OkCupid and found a flirtatious note from a local guy. I responded in kind, and our exchange turned rather steamy. We used the IM feature on OkC for a while, then moved to AIM, making suggestive comments all the while.

Well, what do you know, but this flirtation got me rather worked up, and as chance would have it, Mr. Flirtation lived just a few blocks from me. With the raucous encouragement of some of my friends (who were in on the whole transaction in another chat window), I decided to go for it. After all, if it turned out badly, then I'd know for sure casual sex wasn't for me, and at least I might have some fun in learning the lesson.

So, he came over, we had a fairly fun, naughty time, and he left. I didn't feel dirty. I didn't feel regretful. I didn't feel any of those things that I thought I might. In fact, I felt downright smug.

Never having done such a thing before, I didn't know the post-hookup etiquette. I dropped him a note saying thanks, and I didn't hear back from him. At first, this made me grumpy, but even that grumpiness wasn't enough to sour me on the experience. And, in the end, I can look back and say that it's good that it didn't turn into a regular thing. He was ok, but not great, and looking back, I think this conversation sums up just how much we had in common:

[Entering my room:]
Him: Wow, you have a lot of books.
Me: Uhh. I guess I do. [I don't actually think I have that many books, but ok.]
Him: Have you read them all?
Me: ...
Him: *starts to take off my shirt*
Me: *pretends we didn't have that conversation*

Nevertheless, I'm grateful to him for not being an axe murderer or completely skeevy or any number of other things that could well have turned me off casual sex forever. And the rest, as they say, has been a really good fucking year.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

You all may remember that a couple of weekends ago, I was planning to meet up with a fellow I'd been emailing with for quite some time. Well, we did meet, and here's what I've learned:

I know what I want. And just because a guy sticks around and is persistent doesn't mean that my initial evaluation that we're not a good match, even for casual play, is wrong. It may mean that he's a very nice guy, ultra patient, not resorting to high-pressure or guilt trips, and these are all good things.

Now, my biggest concern, before meeting him, was that he was having a dual-image problem, having trouble combining my inner good girl and my inner slut. Or maybe that's my outer slut. I get confused. At any rate, that didn't come up at all; I don't know if it's just 'cause we were in pretty unambiguous let's-see-how-this-goes territory, or if I was misreading him. I was glad not to run up against that, though, as the good girl/bad girl dichotomy is one of my pet peeves.

Instead, what happened is that things just fell flat. It wasn't awful, but where I look for intensity, for the heat to rise up off my body until I want to shimmy out of my clothes and fling him on the floor (or have him fling me, depending on my mood). With this guy, it was entirely pleasant. The conversation was nice. The interaction was nice. He was nice. But there was no spark.

And this is what I had predicted last summer when we started corresponding. So, the lesson is, my early judgments can be right. I sometimes worry that I make inappropriately snap decisions, and this fellow helped me by showing me that in at least some cases, my judgment calls are right on.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I love the online pickup scene. I'm sure that's obvious to all of you, my attentive readers. I'm shy in person, so I wouldn't get nearly so much action if I had to limit myself to bars and clubs and the like. Also, I (and this is obviously a benefit of being a woman in the scene) can set up an ad and then sort through responses in the comfort of my living room, which is both less expensive and more relaxing and low-key than going to a public venue to meet people.

But there's something missing in the online dance, and it's one of the advantages of meeting up for coffee or lunch for the first date: Face to face flirtation.

I love flirting. I like the shy smiles, the blushes, the exquisite extended eye contact, the brush of hands, the bump of feet under the table... And I like it when these things are paired with uncertainty, with that flutter in my stomach, with the shiver of anticipatory questioning: Will we or won't we?

By laying so much groundwork via email and chat, some of that twitter is muffled in online pickups. The tradeoff is, for the most part, worth it to me, and to many people online, but as an intensity junky, I do sometimes miss that frisson, especially if I've not been able to do much in the way of in-person flirting. When that happens, I might agree to meet someone earlier than I otherwise might, but with more of the "what will happen?" up in the air, and that reminds me that sometimes it's good just to jump in and see how it goes.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What I want in a guy is for him to be built. Really solid, and strong, and awesome. I want him to flex his muscles and make me swoon. But I'm not talking about six-pack abs. What I want is a guy with a six-pack cerebrum.

When he writes, he captivates me with his clever prose and insightful commentary. He makes witty jokes and flirts playfully. He remembers the things I say and refers back to them. He looks beyond the surface and gets to the meat of the matter.

Even for a casual encounter, the brain matters. For a one-off, it's less important, sure, than it might be otherwise, but the most fun is had in a setting where we can both be creative, where sparks fly, not just because we're physically attracted, but also because we've met our match in intellectual development. What's fun about a rote fuck? A kiss, a blow job, a little cunnilingus, and then the requisite penetration. Bore me with a script.

But if you can make my breath catch with anticipation over dinner, if you can tempt me with your brilliant banter between kisses... now we're talking fun. Maybe you'll teach me something new to be done with my dreamcatcher. Rocking.

What I want, when you press me up against the wall to kiss me, isn't just a kiss, but the whole shebang. Come on, let's dance.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's Friday, and I, for one, am greatly looking forward to the weekend. I have two new prospects to meet, and, obviously, I'm hoping that'll go well. In particular, one of them, with whom I've been exchanging email for quite some time, should be an interesting meeting. But I'm a little concerned, and here's why:

I get the sense, based on some of his comments, that he thinks I'm very different from how I think I am. That is to say, I think I'm basically a smart, progressive, feminist type who happens to be enjoying casual involvements (including sex) for the time being. I'm not sure what he thinks I am, but while I gather that he buys the smart, progressive, feminist thing, I get the sense that the casual involvements bit confuses his image of me (and possibly any woman who does it).

Sometimes, in our emails, we connect very well; we have interesting conversations about any number of topics, and I have the feeling -- which is what I really like in the email stage of things -- that he's being present and interested in who I am, what I think, and what I'm about. Other times, and this is usually when we're talking about sex, he seems to forget all that and just get into the "let's fuck!" mindset.

Obviously, behind this dual persona could lurk a stalker-type, but, equally obviously, I rather doubt that, or I wouldn't be meeting him. Instead, I think I'm about to meet a guy who's struggling under society's preconceptions about "good" girls and "bad" girls. I, naturally, like to think I can be both. The question is this: can he wrap his head around that?

I'm one of those people who thinks that being slutty can be a good thing, in the right context. But I never like being thought a slut by someone who thinks it's an insult. So it'll be very interesting to see what vibe I get from him over coffee this weekend. You all, naturally, will be the first to hear how it went.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, this guy did enough of the right things (we all know what they are, right? He wrote an intelligent, appealing response to my ad that indicated that he was interested in me, not just any woman who might have posted that day, etc), for me to write back, initially, and then, after several emails back and forth, seeming to connect in interesting ways, I was inspired to arrange to meet him. He lives on the other side of town from me, but he was willing to come to my neighborhood to meet for lunch.

We met at my favorite local coffee shop and then went across the street to the diner for lunch. His assured email persona was much more timid in person, which seems to be a common feature, and one I can understand; interactions online carry a lot less risk, and they're also easier, because they're so one-dimensional, just text on a screen. However, this shift is one of the things that is a big turnoff for me; I tend to prefer confident people to begin with, and then when the lack of confidence in person contrasts with the prior confidence online, it's just not pretty.

But then things went downhill, because his primary topic of conversation is how he used to hang out with all these people who are interested in bands, and he's gone beyond that, and what he likes about me is that I seem like someone who would be really good for him to know.

...

I like to think that I'm a good person to know, and that I can help my friends with all sorts of growth and changes in their lives. This is not, however, the dynamic I want in my casual sex. I want someone to find me good in bed, but not necessarily "good to know" in the sense of major personal change, like finding a whole new friends group.

The conversation continued into how he's really finding out who he is and trying to meet new people who can help him with that...

It was soon clear that when I said "casual encounters", he read "new guide on life path". I'm not sure how that happened, but it did. Lunch was, thus, rather awkward. But it wasn't very awkward until he asked if I wanted to spend the afternoon with him (earlier, I had, foolishly, mentioned that I had the afternoon free). I don't mind turning people down, and I try to do so gently -- "I've really enjoyed meeting you, but I don't see this going anywhere" -- but there's no good way to keep the conversation going after that, obviously, and so I like to have that exchange after we've payed the check.

So, guys, save yourselves some awkwardness and hold the "what next" conversation until you're actually moving on to what next.

Posted by ClueChick at 10:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

One of my clever readers wrote in with a few questions, including this one:

Best experience you've had meeting someone through CL, worst?

It's actually kind of hard to pick out one best (or one worst, for that matter) experience, because different encounters with different guys have different outstanding qualities. In fact, this might be best as a series, perhaps with updates when someone else good (or bad) comes along to talk about.

My most recent great experience was in meeting up with a fellow who responded to an ad I posted at the beginning of the month. I recognized his email address as one I'd corresponded with about six months ago, and I mentioned as much in my response to him. Our earlier email exchange had petered out when we didn't manage to make plans within a week of starting our contact, and I hadn't felt strongly enough about him to follow it up that time.

In his email to my post this month, he came across as confident and assured, smart and looking for the same sort of thing I am. Between that and the fact that I'd decided in the past that I'd be up for meeting him (and reviewing our prior conversation, I could see why), I decided it would be worth trying again.

He indicated that he'd like to make plans sooner rather than later to meet up, rather than drag out the email contact, which suited me fine, in this case. Sometimes, I dislike someone who rushes things, because it feels premature to me, but because we'd laid some groundwork last year, this felt reasonable to me. So, we made plans and then didn't have any more email conversation, which was also a bit unusual; usually people like to do a bit of "getting to know you" via email first. The result was I didn't know all that much about him before meeting up over coffee downtown.

I got to the coffee shop early (I like to be there early, so I can sit and let him do the approaching. Lazy? You bet! But believe it or not, I'm a bit shy.) He found me without trouble (one of the things I hear on about 50% of my meet-ups is, "You look just like your pictures!") and we chatted. It turns out, that he's into a few things that are close to my heart, including travel, which is a great conversation topic. I love it when I can avoid the boring, rote questions like, "So, what do you do?"

About halfway into our conversation, I decided that I totally wanted to take him to bed. That's always a good thing in a meet-up! He was attractive, sexy, friendly and personable. The conversation flowed with the occasional innuendo and increasing flirtation. Apparently, he decided the same, and offered to show me the view from his apartment. Actually, he told me it was the best view of the city I've ever had, and what would I like to wager on it? This was a humorous and sexy way to a) get me to his apartment and b) imply I'd owe him something once there. Since I'd already decided I was hot for him, I didn't need the bet, but I enjoyed the banter.

It turns out, it was the best view of the city that I've ever had (and probably ever will have). The view, of course, was just a bonus.

Posted by ClueChick at 8:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I have a shameful little secret, but you all can't tell anyone, okay?

Sometimes, I respond to a lousy email that a guy writes to my ad. And I'm a little embarrassed to say that it's not always just snarky.

Okay, that's not entirely true. On occasion, I get a dumb response that, while dumb, is also somehow humorous. And if I'm bored, I may give in to the temptation to write back some smartassy comment about how brilliant and scintillating his email was. This, naturally, typically leads to a bit of email flying back and forth. It usually ends badly, with me telling him why he's not going to get any from me (he's dumb, lacks a sense of humor, is saying rude or disgusting things, etc. You pick.) Sometimes, I really drag it out. Never let it be said I can't be bitchy when I'm inspired and bored.

However, there's the every-once-in-a-while where my snarky opening gambit discovers someone who's actually intelligent, engaging and entertaining on the other end. Go figure. Usually, when I ask why he opened with such a dud, he says something about it just having been a whim to respond. I can understand that.

So, there have been a couple of times when a guy's crappy response got in the door and all the way up to a meeting. And, in fact, in one instance, all the way to my bed.

Since I spend so much time trying to get guys to write good, complete responses, why am I telling you this? Because the truth is, luck of the draw definitely plays into things on CL. That sometimes works out well for you, and sometimes poorly. As always, don't take it personally.

Posted by ClueChick at 7:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)