There’s something so great about having the blog that I do. I welcome disagreements, I welcome rebuttal and for the most part, I welcome strong opinions that can swing either way. But I never expected the amount of misinterpretation and hurtful declarations to come from Heart Over Vagina. That was a change of context that definitely caught me off guard. So in the spirit of honesty and clarity, I decided to face those opinionated comments head-on, to clear the peripheral haze.

The phrase slut-shaming has resonated with me. Truthfully because I would never put down or diss anyone who participates in casual sex, sex outside of a relationship or even further, sex outside of marriage because I did this. I do this. I’ve also made this clear many times in context on social and on the blog. However, I’m making it very clear to you all now… I would and never will shame someone for enjoying the right to enjoy sex.

I find it hard to imagine how anyone would assume I didn’t believe that women had rights to choose or weren’t strong enough to have sex without understanding what happens afterwards, be it what they wanted or not. I feel like I’m a reasonable person- I understand both sides wholly, simply because I’ve been on both sides. So let me clarify: I believe women can do as they please and are strong. I believe that women and men, when smart and prepared, can carry on to have fulfilling sexual and/or emotional relationships. I don’t believe that women are stupid and that having sex with men they aren’t committed to, are stupid which brings me to my next thought.

The entire Heart Over Vagina article was simply to say this: I’m finally ready to be in a committed relationship. I’ll finally hit that breaking point where fun and games aren’t really on the agenda and conversations of commitment and sustainability are more in my forefront. Having dealt with men, uncommitted, for the past three years has drawn me to the conclusion that I can’t partake in sex because, since my breaking point (see two sentences prior) my heart is ready for something more than just sex. And that, is not uncommon. In fact, it’s why the post was written. I know so many women have/do feel this way. And no one seems to be talking about the heart. But this is me personally.

Lately in the press, it’s been about woman being strong and dominating. And please believe, you know I stand behind that 100% percent. But in those articles, is it fair to say that the premise is to have sex without strings attached without maybe realizing that some women aren’t ready for the repercussions that come from that? AND THIS, is where I think people were lost in my words. The kind of sex I want is something that should be shared with someone you care about and are hopefully committed to each other and not sharing juices with someone else. However that’s not always the case. I’ve had sex with people I’ve had no true feelings for or even wanted to continue seeing. And it was beyond fun. Until it wasn’t. And that’s where I’m at. It took one date, one person, one moment for me to realize that this isn’t what I wanted anymore. It didn’t make me less of an independent, strong, dominating woman. It made me a decisive woman on top of it all. I know now that I want more than just a hook-up.

For me, I was able to separate feelings in sex, never connecting the two unless necessary. But it got to the point where I started using it to fill voids. And I also knew I wasn’t alone. And I knew that my amazing community would know what this feeling is like and more than anything, be there in support.

Another moment that struck me as odd were the comments of the “three date, 30 date” rule and that it didn’t matter how long you stuck it out for, if they leave you after you’ve had sex, they weren’t a good guy to begin with. I couldn’t help but scoff at these comments. It’s not about holding out because I think a certain time will be sufficient enough to sleep with a man. I don’t think there’s a 3 date, 30 date, 40 date, 60 date blah blah blah regimen women are to abide by. What I believe in is time. If I were to sleep with a man after the 23.5 date and he leaves, is it really about the sex? Probably not. There’s no method, code or formula that women AND men are supposed to abide by. I think that men who decide after the 30th date, that it isn’t working (including the fact that you’ve had sex) doesn’t make him a bad guy as some of the comments were suggesting. It just makes him decisive enough as women should be too. So, personally, I’m not abiding by a timeline. I’m going with what feels right and what hasn’t worked is sleeping with a man too early. So what will work for me is to allow time. Because in time, things evolve. And evolution is where exciting things happen. But also, the friendly little hate group that was started about me was named brilliantly, Steve Harvey Fan Club. Great one.

Sex is about connection- whether for the moment or for a lifetime. Sex is to be enjoyed exactly how a willing individual wants to enjoy it. There aren’t rules for sex really… just as there aren’t rules for dating. Never did I want to press upon my own mission onto you readers. However, the proof in the pudding, most of you agreed.

Now, in fucking conclusion, I thank all who inspired this Part Deux post. So carry on with your bad selves, go make some sex (or not) and enjoy your life. Mine just happens to be enjoying a glass of Lambrusco, some girlfriends, great music and a really pretty apartment to gawk at.

Oh, and also, I’m probably going to start my period so that’s why I’m all emotional. Shoot me. (Oh let me guess, sexist? SHUT UP.)

P.S. For all those who I tricked for April Fools- oh how I got you good! Missed it? Head here first, then here. It’s good. I’m not going anywhere kiddies. And for the amazing, supportive emails, texts and comments I received… whoa! Thank you for the support. The Italy trip is definitely something that will happen in my future so I suppose it was my public reminder to never let me forget what I really want to do.

P.P.S. Did anyone notice I changed my Twitter bio + deactivated my Facebook Fan Page? BWAHAH. Got you good.

There’s nothing I enjoy more when being courted than a man who has his shit together. I think most women will agree that a full time job, an apartment with working appliances and shower head and a mattress levitated from the ground (unless it’s some cool, trendy bed… then, well, okay) make our heart happy and head conscious. But most times, men find the way to the vag, the coach, the honey pot, the sanctuary, the baby holder, the temple, the hot dog clamper, the hostess cupcake, the VAGINA because they got the “swag”.

When you go on a date and you begin the courting process, you can only hope to be on the path of committed righteousness. It’s one date, two dates.. maybe even three. You share some laughs, some common interests and maybe even the amount of siblings you both have. Cool. Yet, somewhere, somehow, you get caught in the crosshairs of swagdom. You let the man into your candy house. STUPID GIRL.

Alright. You’re not stupid. If you’re stupid, then I’m stupid. BUT falling for the swag game is one of the worst feelings in the world. And let me tell you, I’m a victim of this nation of men. Most recently, in fact. The story goes like this:

I meet boy. (Okay, I meet boy online. Whatever.)
Boy digs me.
I dig boy.
We go on a casual date. Lasted 7 hours.
We connect while I’m away for work by skyping the entire time I’m gone. (Bad idea ladies.)
I fall for the game.
Second date happens, I cook. (Another bad idea ladies.)
Conversation gets deep.
He sleeps over. (You know where this is going.)

And as the story goes, when you give the goodies up too soon, you might as well give him a credit card to slide in and out whenever he pleases. Too. Easy.

The lesson: Don’t fall for the swag.

I’ve been single for the past three years but that being said, I wasn’t keen on dating or the dating scene. But I started going on more dates since I moved to New York in hopes to find company as I feel/felt I was ready for another relationship. But what’s the lesson always told: NEVER SEARCH FOR ANYONE. It will happen when it happens. Anyway, before the dating started-I was the game player. Didn’t really give a fuck, did what I wanted and had the most fun I’ve had in my whole 25 years of living. So when the game was played on me and I fell for it, pshhhh. Home girl was shocked.

You may be asking yourself – Christina, girl, what does your sad, sad story have to do with me? I’m strong. I don’t let the blindfold go over my eyes. I’m I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T. ya heard? Yes, well, settle your little Destiny Child ass down. This story is to say that even single, strong,  I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T. women fall for swag, women like me.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned… keep the cookie in the jar. Keep your pantalones on until you’ve at least talked about about him not sticking it in any other jars. And there’s strength in numbers. Tell your girlfriends, your mom, your best friend, your co-worker what’s going on. Telling someone you trust gets you another clear opinion. But don’t ask the entire population of women- you’ll just get a cluttered response. And also, haters.

So keep that heart up top. That vagina can deal with daily doses by you and you only. If you want intimacy, watch Love Actually. Live through someone else’s sexualness. I mean, just saying.

How’s your dating life going? Hard times? Tell me about it. DUH.

I’ve been heavily tossed into the dating scene recently and let me tell you, it’s been an interesting one. Meeting people is one thing but having one-on-one with someone from 1-3+ hours while making good or bad conversation in hopes that there could potentially be a second date, all to have it end without really knowing what will happen is the most drawn-out test of life if there ever was one. So there’s that.

But then, perhaps, it goes great. You’ve got a few weeks, a couple dinners, a sleepover or two and many a laugh under your communal belt. All is going well and fine and you’re getting to know each other. You snuggle deep in the sheets with your new beau and then… the following happens (one or all):

-You produce a vaginal flatulence (also known as queef)
-He farts
-You fart
-He gets diarrhea
-You get the poopy poops and you’re not at your house
-You accidentally knee/elbow/kick/punch his face
-You forget to shave/wax/laser/shower or ALL of the above

Well. Shit. Happens.
So I’ve broken down the FIVE HOW-TO’s on getting over it and moving past the [insert bodily secretion here]:

1. KEEP YOUR COOL. The one thing you never want to do is REACT badly. I’ll give you an example. A poor chap I cooked for had major stomach issues, the poor thing. He couldn’t hold it anymore, he had to blow up my bathroom. And we’re talking beginning stages. So, I kept my cool. Got the kid some water and told him to just go. Luckily, we were both mature. Trust me, I’ve had many an embarrassing reaction to POOP. But the last thing anyone wants is a reaction to bodily fluids/secretions. Or make them feel weird. We got all SHIT. Literally. So help him out and move past like it never happened. And if you have to go, You better go. The last thing you want is a gurgle-ly stomach in bed, on top, under the covers, around the bend and back again. Just sayin. Oh, and have a handy wipe on hand.
2. HANDLE IT OR LET IT GO. So you’ve got all kinds of Razpunel on your limbs, crevices and the like. You forget. Shit happens. You see each other last minute. Personally, I can’t let this happen because it’s a personal pet peeve of mine. But if you are one free spirit, let that hairy flag fly free. After all, manicuring isn’t cheap and is also timely. Would he rather wait or get it in while he can? Ask him. He won’t wait.
3.  LAUGH IT OFF. And if you queef, girrrllll, let that shit go. Who cares? If he makes fun of you (and in result, kills the moment), ask him HOW FUCKING OLD ARE YOU? Disengage and bounce. Or laugh with him and keep it rockin’.
4. DON’T DWELL. You did a little sexy “play fighting” and you got cray. Your elbow met his forehead. Your knee whacked his groin. Then comes the infinite pause of pain on his end and a pause of surprised/freaked out face happening on your end. Don’t baby him. Be apologetic. Grab some ice. Give him a little sass “Don’t be a baby” and  then, a kiss on the forehead. Leave him be and all will be fine. I promise.
5. THE IMPORTANT SSS. And lastly, try to remember: Shave. Shower. Shit. And you, my child, will be on the road to success.

Now, as always, share your stories. You know I love the good ones! Plus, we could all use a good laugh.

Opening this damn app that I’ve deleted over 4 or 5 times already. It’s the OkCupid shuffle. I can’t ever decide whether I want to be a part of this ridiculous yet exciting enough to be on for hours, app. Majority of the time, these characters on OKC provide senseless humor for my roommate and I. The descriptions of themselves kill me; let alone the photos they decide are appropriate for this community. I can’t tell you how many ab/mirror shots I’ve seen. Honestly, what the hell am I supposed to do about that? Go into a corner and masterbate endlessly? Right, didn’t think so.

There’s been a few dates that have been alright. No one notable enough to consider dating- if anything, good friends I foresee. So, what is truly the point of being a part of this community? Truly, there’s no answer. I’m on it because I’m bored, which I think is the answer for most folks. When I’m laying in bed at night, I scroll through the endless ‘QuickMatches’ which are neveraccurate. But it’s most certainly one of the most entertaining things to do while unable to sleep.

The question I get most times of why I’m on OKC is frankly, why don’t you just go to bar or get out of the house? You can meet plenty of people that way. Well listen up sassy asses, heading to a bar for the possibility of may or may not meeting someone or wasting my time chatting up basics for the potential of meeting a more complex gentleman just doesn’t sound enticing. Granted, sure, I’ve become quite the homebody. Nothing sounds greater than a bottle of wine, at home, curled around my laptop and pup. Plus, men in this city are cheap. So, buying my own drinks consecutively is out of the question. A cheap bottle of wine is all this girl needs.

Will I keep the OkCupid app on my phone? Probably not. It will be one of those apps that gets deleted when I’m running low on memory. Perhaps I should just get my grandma ass up and go meet a real man, in person.

Nahh..

The other day I was talking to a close guy friend of mine about our clocks – both women and men. We all feel there’s some sort of deadline we should be on, if settling is something we really want. Him and I both are after lucrative careers, both having no time for a significant other. Yet, we both agree we need one, want one, desire to have that ONE person to call at the end of a tough day, hug after a promotion and kiss in the night. Where does the sacrifice become worth it?

Moving to New York, I had strict intentions to not date seriously. I figured I wouldn’t be here for too long, only being here as long as it takes to “make it” and after, come home to California. I’m going on my second year and I’m no where near where I’d like to be. And now that I’ve settled into my amazing apartment, I’ve got a puppy to love and care for and slowly building a base of friends, it feels like it’s all coming together but missing a primatial piece. But that’s not to say I haven’t gone out, met cool guys and dated. And here’s where my conversation with my guy friend got interesting.

After a few minutes into our conversation, I said something that shocked me a bit too. “I don’t think I’m the type of person to be loved… and my love is way to vulnerable. I’m much better at having a hard exterior… suppressing emotional angst. I rather not love than be accused of vulnerability.. Sometimes love can be thrown in someone’s face.” It was then I realized I’m the reason I’m still in this position. I purposely avoid falling for someone, purposely avoid getting close and the moment I feel it coming, I push that person away because the last thing I want to do is fall.

Sure, I can easily blame my past as any of us can for the way we are today. But I can’t let things that happened before portray my future. I figured since I pretty much tell you all everything, I thought what better way to dump the past, then do it on here. So, here’s my thank-you’s to the past and a welcome to the future.

To the one I was supposed to share my life with: You and I grew up together, became adults and learned we weren’t right for each other. I don’t blame you for what you’ve done and I know you don’t blame me either. It’s been years trying to let go of something that will never be the same again. Friends? I doubt it but you were the first love of my life. That can’t ever be altered. So thank you for being that person and for growing up – for your future.

To the one that loved me more than I could ever love him: You know you were too good for me. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be that woman because I know the love you had to give was more than I could ask for. But I also know you’ll meet someone that can give you all that love back and be the woman that’s perfectly made for you. Thank you for teaching me compassion and trust because things would be so different today. You helped pick up the pieces of the prior and not many men could do what you did. Thank you J.

To the one that I won’t ever get to have: You taught me the most. You helped me see the clearer me and helped me to discover something far beyond what I knew I had, whether you realized it or not. I’ve never been more honest than with you and so thankful for your friendship. I hope that the person I end up being with, has attributes of you because there are just some things you can’t live life without.

To the one in a country far away: They say you should always have an international love affair. I’m so thankful you were mine. I don’t know whether I’m sad or happy it never worked out. But you were amazing – emotionally and physically. I truly won’t ever forget those moments.

To the future one(s): You’ve got a hefty load in front of you because I’m more complex than you might want to take on. But I think that’s okay because I rather have layers than be a one-sheeter. I’m already thankful because you’ll have entered my life and new people are new discoveries. I hope you take care of me the way these men above have shown I require. I hope I give you the love you deserve and cherish the time we’ll have together, whether short or long or forever. To the man who captures my heart forever, god, I’m lucky. Because that means you really had the ability to break down the walls behind the walls, behind those walls. And that sir, is the toughest task you’ll ever have.

So, as per usual in these Love Lust Life‘s, share your story. Do you blame your past as I used to do? Sometimes, we women can’t tell our girlfriends what we feel because of judgement of past mistakes so think of this (me) as your unjudging best friend. I promise you, nothing can be judged here.

Photo by my dear friend, Sabrina Noel Hill