Weird on first glance … but not surprising when you get into it - a study just released from the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology found that men were more likely to say “I love you” to the woman first. Granted, this was determined by only interviewing 205 heterosexual women and men - not a huge sampling nor very scientific approach — yet it did show that men tended said “I love you” first … on average almost six weeks before women! The reason, they believe, is SEX. And intercourse. Surprise! heh.

Men most often said “I love you” first when they hadn’t had sex yet. Women, on the other hand, waited until the relationship had been consummated before saying the three little words.

Therefore, can we deduce men are hoping - albeit subconsciously — that saying “I love you” would lead to sex? And/or when a woman “holds out,” she makes the guy want her more? Sadly, this study seems to indicate both notions.

It also shows how big a role biology plays in the mating game. Women feel closer to a guy once they’ve had sex, finding it easier to open up and say “I love you”- and hence indicating, if necessary, that she’s committed should their coupling produce offspring. On the flip side, once a man had “planted his seed,” it’s easier for him to move on. Saying “I love you” is no longer necessary because he accomplished his job.

It’s crazy how our genetic/biological make-up as a species still dictates the practice and experiences today. Yet, it’s easy to forget that fact when enmeshed in the messy conflux of love, sex, relationship and desire.

My take away - and hopefully a lot of us ladies will remember this - I love you doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. Vulnerability and openness is important in a relationship. But so is communication. And if you’re not ready to have sex yet, don’t let an “I love you,” sway you too quickly!

Alex’s penis was just too big. There’s just no other way to say it.

Plenty of men would say there’s no such thing as a penis that’s too big.

I would say those men watch too much porn.

In reality, penises come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, lengths, girths, and even, as I’ve recently discovered, slants and angles! When it comes down to it, size does matter—-but bigger isn’t always better.

Alex was under the impression that he was quite a catch, and he couldn’t understand why his penis would be hurting me when we had sex. I’d ask him to change positions, I’d ask him to slow down, I’d ask him not to go so deep, but whatever we tried, nothing felt good. The next day, I felt bruised, inside and out, and waddled like I had just finished a 100-mile bike ride.

Unable to imagine ever subjecting myself to that pain again, I called off our summer fling before it had even really begun.

But the fact that he had expressed surprise at my dissatisfaction stuck with me beyond that summer. What was it about those other women that made them enjoy Alex’s endowment when I recoiled in pain and discomfort?

As much importance as we put into penis size, we hardly ever consider the vagina. Why, when we are constantly debating the issue of penis size, and what feels best, do we never stop to contemplate the unique and individual size and shape of the vagina? It takes two to tango!

Naturally it follows that a large penis will have a harder time fitting inside a smaller vagina. So while we can argue until the end of time whether or not there is an ideal length and an ideal girth of a penis, I think at the end of the day it’s too personal to come to a clear-cut decision for anyone but yourself. It’s about finding two puzzle pieces with the exact right fit.

As a senior in high school, I had been crushing—hard—on Josh* for months.

But, as excited as I was to finally plant a big juicy one on my crush, he may have been a little too eager.

We were finally alone together, having snuck into my parents basement to watch a movie. I was tingling with anticipation of soft and sensual passionate kisses, you know, the way they do it in the movies.

He made his move and his tongue darted into my mouth like he was trying to stab me. I doubt he could have stuck it out any further or any more rigidly. It took up my whole entire mouth, I felt like I might choke on it, and it occasionally poked forward toward the back of throat.

While he continued to try to slay the dragon living in the back of my throat with his tongue-sword, I opened my eyes in shock—to see him staring back at me!

“Why are your eyes open?” I stammered, forcing his rock-solid tongue out of the way.

“To watch out for parents!” he replied sheepishly.

I retreated back toward my side of the couch.

“Can’t we try again?” he asked, reaching for me.

“Well…” I mumbled, not sure how to let him down gently. “I think you could use a little more practice first.”

It was uncomfortable and disappointing to say the least. Here I was, finally kissing this boy I’d fantasized about for months, completely let down. Plus, I was sure I had hurt his feelings.

A few years later, after leaving our small town for bigger and better things, we reunited, and, perhaps fueled by one beer too many, I gave him a second chance. His tender lips and soft tongue made me feel like I was floating. I pulled away, giving him a half-smile and quizzical stare. “I listened,” he said.

(*Name has been changed)

For videos on kissing, check out: How To Kiss and Be Kissed, Tongue Kissing, and First Kiss Tipoff.

The World Cup in South Africa ended Sunday, in a 120-minute final match between the Netherlands and Spain.

During those 120- minutes, statistics show that 422 South African women would have been raped.

Which is why Dr. Sonnet Ehlers was inspired to test out her anti-rape device, called Rape-aXe, in her home country as it hosted the 2010 World Cup.

Rape-aXe is essentially a female condom with hooks inside. A woman can insert the device with an applicator similar to that of a tampon. Should she be raped, the hooks attach to the rapist’s penis, just in the skin, not deep enough to draw blood.

Impossible to dislodge, the device will need to be removed by a doctor, resulting in the rapist’s inevitable arrest.

Dr. Ehlers, was inspired to create the device 40 years ago by a rape victim who she recalls saying “If only I had teeth down there,” she told CNN last month.

But can the age-old myth of the vagina dentata really stop sexual assault?

In my mind, there are two major barriers to the full-blown success of something like the Rape-aXe. First of all, a man who is already violent enough to rape is not going to be pleased to find his penis has been ensnared by a female-condom-turned-bear-trap. He is likely to react even more violently, potentially hurting the woman wearing the Rape-aXe even more brutally.

Secondly, this puts further responsibility and blame on women to not “let themselves get raped” as it were. To me, it feels like the same awful victim blaming we hear all the time – she was dressed provocatively, she shouldn’t have been out so late, she was asking for it. A woman has to be constantly expecting to be raped to feel she needs the Rape-aXe, a state of psychological trauma that I would not wish upon anyone.

“It doesn’t address ways that we can be preventing men from raping; it just has women anticipate it,” writes Feministing. Others have called it a type of enslavement.

Ehlers addressed these concerns in an interview with Radio Netherlands, saying the men are violent already. Rape-aXe won’t make them more violent; it will hold them accountable and possibly even dissuade them from violence, she says, because they need a doctor to remove the device.

“Because he’s tagged, he cannot remove it, he’s got to go to a hospital, and then he’s identified. So now at least he’ll be up for rape, and not for murder and rape,” she said.

And, according to Jezebel, perceiving this as a victim-blaming tool is a luxury of the western world. Ehlers is taking drastic measures because South American women have already tried drastic measures, some even inserting razor blades wrapped in sponges into their vaginas, reports CNN. The biggest issue is stopping rape by any means possible in a country this torn by it.

Because rape is ravaging South Africa. The country has the highest rate of rape in the world. Estimates from a 2006 study by Interpol, the international policy agency, found that a woman is raped every 17 seconds in South Africa. According to Human Rights Watch, 28% of South African men have raped a woman or girl and one in 20 have done so in the past year. Amnesty International reports that only about 8% of rape cases are brought to court.

So how are they working out? Well, therein lies another problem. Dr. Ehlers’ grand plans to distribute 30,000 free condoms in South Africa during the World Cup have fallen more than a little short.

Mother Jones caught up with Dr. Ehlers at the end of June and asked the tough questions. The doctor revealed she had only raised $120, not enough to distribute even a single condom. (Which brings to mind another question – at about $2 a pop, will the women at the highest risk for rape around the world be able to afford Rape-aXe? Are they reusable? How many would a woman need in a year? That cost will add up.)

While Rape-aXe got a considerable amount of buzz and coverage by international media, no one reported on the fact that she was only going to distribute the 30,000 condoms if she got enough donations. So far, no one has been exactly banging down her door.

It’s undoubtedly not the solution in the U.S., but in a country so torn by violence and rape, this might just work. That is, if it ever makes it out the door.

Do you “Pull Out” during sex?

I’ve been spending way too much time thinking about hormonal birth control.

The more I think about it, the more weirded out I get about pumping my body full of synthetic lady-juices. Wouldn’t it be so nice to just let nature run its course?  But we all know what nature intends to happen 9 months later, and I am in no way signing up for that.

“What about if I just pull out?” wonders my condom-hating, sex-loving boyfriend, who, to his credit, handles my birth-control-fueled rages and sob-fests better than I ever could have expected. “You can trust me,” he pleads.

The interesting thing about pulling out, otherwise known as withdrawal before ejaculation, is about as reliable as a condom—both when used perfectly and when used what researchers call “typically”. Used perfectly, about 2% of couples will still get pregnant with a condom. Used perfectly, about 4% of couples who pull out will find themselves knocked up, according to a June 2009 study.

But when used “typically”—i.e., the condom slips, breaks, you forget it until halfway to orgasm, he doesn’t quite pull out quickly enough, he climaxes outside but just barely—condoms and withdrawal have 17% and 18% failure rates, respectively. I was willing to take my risks with just a condom, but “Trust me” has never been a viable form of birth control in my book. What happens on the night we’ve had a few too many drinks, or it just feels too good to stop, or orgasm sneaks up on us. There are a few too many “what ifs” to simply trust our bodies. But should I trust the science?

What do you think? Do you use the withdrawal method? How does it work for you?

During my early sexual experiences I thought I gave great blowjobs. I had followed what I had seen in adult films, listened to the advice of naive peers and practiced my limited understanding on equally inexperienced partners. I had the idea that if I moved my head up and down at the fastest speed possible and never used my teeth, I was golden. This plan seemed to work on green teenage boys; but as I failed to improve on my fellatio skills and my partners’ stamina improved, it took longer for them to climax. It was probably due to this singled minded practice of giving oral sex that lead to my distaste for it; my neck and jaw muscles would cramp up and my lips would become sore from the friction.

My poor technique lead to a lost of confidence, and after a while blowjobs were only for special occasions; birthdays and anniversaries. I had allowed my ignorance to affect my relationships and deny my partners pleasure. I sought a brush up on my skills from more female friendly sources (e.g. Babeland, Guide To Getting It On) and came to find that there is more to the act of giving blowjobs than reenacting the day in the life of a bobble head doll. Biting (yes, teeth can be a good thing), licking, applying a variety of pressure with your lips, tongue, whole mouth or hands, and stimulating other parts of my partner’s body add to the overall experience. With my new found knowledge, I no longer think I give great blowjobs; I know I do.

I learned the hard way that the Pill makes me crazy.

It was the summer of 2006, and I was in a semi- weird place in my life, but nothing that should have been life-altering.
And yet I was exhausted every day, crying for no reason, and just about ready to bite the heads off of family and friends for looking at me the wrong way.

The nurse practitioner who had originally prescribed the Pill for me—when I was 16—had explained it could mess with my mood, but I had shrugged off her concerns. That summer, when my emotional world was collapsing, I confided in my mom. When she explained that nearly half of my extended family is on some sort of mood-stabilizing medication, monitoring my freakouts took on new meaning for me.

I argued and cried my way through the summer, holding on to the idea that a change of scenery come the fall (I was shipping off to study abroad in Paris) would knock me back into my normal emotional routine.

And then I went off the Pill.

For three years my emotions—while admittedly a little more over-the-top than some of my more stoic lady friends—were in check. Sure, I still had some epic bouts of PMS every now and then and semi-regular stress-meltdowns, but my emotions were at least borderline rational.

In the summer of 2009 I was legitimately high on life—I was settling into a dream job in a city I am absolutely in love with, and I was in the happy-go-lucky honeymoon phase of a budding relationship. I hadn’t been involved with someone seriously in a while, and when we decided to become monogamous, he told me how much he disliked condoms.

So I went back on the Pill.

It took surprisingly little time to feel my mood drop. By the third week, my high had flown out the window. I was crabby and annoyed, crying easily, and unsatisfied with the things that were making me ecstatic mere days before.

Afraid of slipping back to the darkness of the summer three years before, I contacted my doctor and told her what was going on. Unfortunately, she told me, pretty much every version of the Pill is likely to have some effect on mood. But she quickly wrote up a prescription for Microgestin, a Pill with a different combination of hormones that might lessen the effects.

That was in August. I noticed a difference with my new pill, but I still didn’t feel completely like myself. When the relationship fizzled out in November, I cursed myself for pumping myself full of hormones for someone who didn’t stick around. But because the Pill did wonders for my period and seriously eased my cramps, I stuck with the daily routine. By February I had started to feel like I was logging a few too many freakouts and I began considering other options.

I talked with my doctor in March about the possibility of getting an IUD. Despite their lingering bad rap, today’s intrauterine devices, Mirena and ParaGard, are not only safe and effective, but extremely popular. In other countries.

Only 2% of American women using contraception use an IUD according to 2007 data. In other countries, these numbers are much higher; 27% of Norwegian women use one!

Mirena, which releases a low dose of hormones, is made of soft plastic and is effective for five years. ParaGard, made from copper, is effective for up to 10 years and contains no hormones. The FDA recommends Mirena for women who have had at least one child, but ParaGard can work for anyone. The small, T-shaped device is thought to work by stopping sperm from reaching an egg, either because the copper in ParaGard acts as a spermicide, or the hormones in Mirena thicken cervical mucus.

My doctor soothed my concerns that I’d only be eligible for an IUD if I had a baby at home, and she was surprisingly positive about the IUD. Still, she suggested trying one more variation of the Pill first and if I was still unhappy, contacting an OB/GYN.

The concern in the past, she explained, was that IUDs may in some cases lead to infections from insertion. And while both are 99% effective in preventing pregnancy, neither protects against sexually transmitted diseases. Six months into a relationship, this monogamy thing still feels a little new to me, but with any luck, it’s going to last a long time, I assured her.

I decided I’d go for one more variation of the Pill—third time’s a charm, right? —so now I’m dutifully taking my Zovia daily. I feel much better than on the Microgestin, but still not completely like myself. Every time I feel myself choking up at a cheesy movie I would have previously dismissed with a scoff, or snapping a little too quickly at my manfriend, a little voice in the back of my mind whispers “Get a IUD already!” (Yes, I realize the implications of mentioning the voices in my head in a blog post about how crazy I am. These are hypothetical voices, I promise.)

Research suggests doctors are still hesitant to prescribe the devices, often because they are not up-to-date on the facts. The IUD got its bad rap from the Dalkon Shield, which led to a number of deaths in the 1970s before manufacturers stopped selling it. The United States staged a massive anti-IUD freakout, while the devices simply gained in popularity around the world. Many doctors also were never properly trained in insertion, so they don’t feel comfortable prescribing an IUD.

At a one-time cost of $175 to $650, including insertion, according to Planned Parenthood, it’s not exactly cheap, but those monthly Pill costs add up, so I’d be saving money in the long-term. And there’s nothing to remember to swallow daily or check monthly, just one insertion and that’s it. I’m willing to put up with the common side effects, like minor spotting and initial cramping, if it means a birth-control-free-mind after that.

But more than anything, I just want to be myself. I sick of my boobs hurting when I go jogging and this never-ending what-am-I-forgetting anxiety and my eyes swollen from crying every other day. I take care of my body in so many other ways—eating healthily, working out, getting good sleep—that pumping my body full of hormones seems contradictory to everything I stand for.

I think I’m ready. I just wish I knew someone who had one, that BFF who could answer every single question from what does insertion feel like, to how do they get it out, to will my partner feel it during sex. So few women in America use an IUD, it’s become the best kept birth control secret. So tell me, what’s your experience with an IUD?

For more information on birth control,  check out:  Barrier Birth Control and Hormonal Birth Control

I don’t know about you, but I have had some boyfriends/partners with whom after sex I wanted to shower right away and get their smell off of me … and others where I was happy to wait until morning. I love the natural smell, both clean and dirty, of certain guys.  Other guys however, I find smell slightly funky.

It’s weird, I rarely think of a guy’s smell except when intimate (unless they are wearing cologne, and then I can’t help but think of it). And one would assume that a clean smell, regardless of who it is, would always be tolerable. Not so. Some people, even clean, have unattractive smells to other people. However, it is not a quantifiable good smell vs bad smell. Some guys who smell great to me, actually smell repellent to others. And visa versa.

As it turns out, there’s a reason for this – genes.

Our body-odor is “an external manifestation of the genes of our immune system.” Our immune system determines what diseases we can defend against, and what diseases are recessive within our make-up. It’s preferable to mate with someone who has an immune system least like ours so there’s both a greater range of diseases our kids will systemically defend against, and less recessive disease genes that can double up. Here’s a great article about it: The Scent of Sex

Hence, the men whose smell we are attracted to actually have immune systems least like ours. They are the ones that, biologically speaking, would be our preferred sires (I love using that term!). Crazy, huh!?!?!

There have been a number of experiments that prove this. Results even indicate that a man’s scent tends to be the most important feature determining whether a woman will find him sexually attractive. Does this mean us women are all programmed to mate above all else? Eeeek!

Anyway, I think it’s safe to say that while dating we will all encounter men who smell good to us, and others who don’t. We may even keep dating the unattractive-smellers because we like other things about them. However, now that I know his smell is significant, looking back, I’m not surprised that the guys in which I wanted to shower right away after being with are the guys that never worked out in the long run.

Check out this video on smell and sex: Dirty Sexy Smells

Since spring is in the air — and spring fever (the desire for more sex!) often accompanies it — I thought it’s a good time to bring up the issue of boundaries. Sexual boundaries are often difficult to navigate - especially when they are contrary to what our friends do, what our family wants and/or what our social scene dictates.

And when our sexual boundaries are set, men will sometimes try to push past them. It can be intimidating and hard to hold on. During sex or a make-out session, when we’re at the point where we don’t want to go farther, the guy can be insistent that we keep going. And he’ll give a lot of seemingly reasonable reasons like “But I like you so much and just want to get closer,” “If we stop now I’ll get ‘blue balls’,” and “Don’t worry, we won’t go farther than X.”

Besides pressure from our partner, sometimes WE want to go beyond our boundaries. We’re aroused, having fun, and don’t want to stop (or at least stop at the boundary point)! Add alcohol into the mix, and it’s even harder not to throw our reserves out the window!

For many of us though, setting boundaries before a date is important. It enables us to feel comfortable in the moment — yet establishes a specific point when arousal is not part of the equation — in which we know we’ll feel uncomfortable … or regret afterwords. It’s difficult, but worth it in the end.

One concern we may have when exerting boundaries is that we’ll be called a tease. In theory, we have the right to say no at any time — and it’s totally a misogynistic concept — but unfortunately, some women develop a reputation as a “tease.”

My solution (and I’ve asked a number of guys about this and they all agree it is a good one), is if during the make-out session I don’t put my hand on his penis (over or under his pants), then I don’t feel responsible for helping him get off. Granted, I can rub other parts of my body over that area, but if I don’t put my hand there, I don’t worry about “teasing.” Some guys will grab your hand and try to put it there, but it’s important to say NO in that situation, however hard it may be. It’s rude and inappropriate, and he has to know you will not be manipulated like that.

What I’ll also do to help establish my boundaries is mention them on the way home or to his place to make-out. That way he knows ahead of time what to expect, and if he wants more, I just remind him that I had already told him the limit.

Still - it’s a rough road to travel, establishing and keeping sexual boundaries isn’t easy. In my experience though, it gets easier … and I no longer wake up with that dreaded question “Oh shite, what did I do?”

Check out this video where the women discuss boundaries: Saying Yes and No to Sex

Okay, I’ll admit it, I fake it – a lot. I’ve actually faked it more than I have had an authentic orgasm during sex. And I’m not just talking intercourse here – it’s difficult for me to come when someone else is involved. On my own – done and done. But during sex — when he’s going down on me, using his hand, or during intercourse, I become self conscious, worry about taking too long, and can’t come. I fake it because I’m embarrassed.

Unfortunate, huh?? Women are supposed to come during sex with a man, right? At least that’s what mainstream media would have us believe. Therefore, those of us who can’t climax feel inadequate and unwomanly.

I know, I know … faking orgasm is not a good idea for many reasons – it sets a precedent with that particular partner and it validates the belief that women orgasm the same way men do (intense thrusting in and out). In defense, it’s taken me a long time to get to the point where I’m even comfortable having sex. For years I worried I wasn’t a good lover, and hence couldn’t relax in bed. Now (greatly because of Cherry TV!) I’m confident and easy-going, and open to just enjoying the process.

Yet, I fake orgasm. Often, I don’t really have to do anything except give a little squeak. Recently though, I’ve been telling the guy I’m with that it’s not easy for me, so not to expect much (granted, I’ve still faked it in some of these instances). I’ve also busted out my vibrator to help things along.

For now though, I’m not going beat myself up for it. Knowing I can fake it allows me to be sexual and not feel sexually deficient. I’m ready to trade that for truthfulness.

Here’s a Cherry TV video on it: Faking Orgasm

And here are some other good links:
Orgasm Help from iVillage
About.com’s Faking Orgasm Overview