My magazine article: Swinging and IBS - is there hope?
|
Posted:Jan 17, 2007 11:24 am
Last Updated:Feb 13, 2007 12:09 pm
1795 Views
|
I submitted this to the FriendFinder-x magazine, but I have found that more people read my blog than the magazine.
--------------------------
A considerable percentage of women wish they could swing, but it's hard enough just having the self esteem to have a satisfying sex life, let alone try to deal with having IBS. A considerably hefty percentage (25-30% according to some studies) of women between the ages of 20 and 35 have IBS, known as Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and for women who have it, it's the worst downer for our sex life. We are constantly self-conscious about ourselves during sex, for obvious reasons!
It is suggested the IBS is stress related, and connected to our diets. After some incredible success with something called the Candida diet, and changing my sleeping habits, I have discovered that the symptoms of IBS can be greatly reduced and perhaps even eliminated for that special day.
The symptoms of IBS are constant gas and other unpleasant symptoms. The prospect of being on our backs with our legs up by our heads turns us on, but when he puts his weight on us, it's like sitting on a whoopee cushion. Or worse. Not good! As a result many of us are exceedingly self conscious, and often avoid liaisons altogether that could have been fun...swinging being one of them.
But all is not lost. There are the obvious options of taking Imodium and Gas-X several days before the event, but even that does not guarantee success.
Here are some practical pointers that have done me a world of good.
1) Do this, even if it's just for a little while: greatly reduce and try to eliminate processed sugar, concentrated fruit sugars, white flour (breads, pasta, cookies, gravy, desserts, etc), potatoes, and especially dairy in your diet, and see what happens. You might be surprised.
First of all, sugar, dairy and white flour all do the same thing...they feed yeast in your body where our good bacteria should be living. Lactose sugar, fructose sugar, sucrose sugar, and sticky white flour all gum up inside us and provide a perfect environment for yeast. What happens when you put yeast in bread dough? Gas bubbles. What's in beer? Gas bubbles. All of that is caused by yeast. If you cut down on foods that feed it, you will reduce the amount of greenhouse gases you release at embarrassing times.
What's great is, you can still have so many other things like nuts, yogurt, steak, salads, vegetables, oatmeal, soy milk, etc. And don't worry about calories, just focus on not eating what yeast likes. You might still drop a few pounds as an added bonus.
Your symptoms will not go away immediately but your body will start getting used to not being battered with sugar. You may find that mood swings which can exascerbate IBS will start to level a bit without sugar 'highs'.
2) Wake up in the morning with a daily routine, and eat at the same time every day.
When your body recieves the same type of macronutrients (carb, protein, fats) at the same time in the day, your body will release the digestive enzymes meant to manage each one without overcompensating. If you do not oversleep, and get the requisite 7-8 hours you need, your body will have a routine that it can trust. This causes physical stress levels to decrease. There is nothing like a good healthy routine to relax you from the inside out. When I was between jobs, even without stress caused by needing money, was when my IBS was at its worst. Sleeping in to 11 AM is not good for IBS sufferers. Do not confuse your body's natural human rhythms by sleeping too much or staying awake all night.
3) Try to look for a fulfilling relationship with someone understanding, who will not criticise or humiliate you for it.
Love decreases stress levels, point blank.
4) Finally, before you go out for that big night at the swing club, follow the yeast-free diet for at least a couple weeks and take Imodium and Gas-x for 48-72 hours before your big night. Even if you don't have too many symptoms, try to avoid the risk. Try to eat only pure meats and fresh vegetables (ideally steak and salad!) and avoid onions and garlic.
Now go forth and swing! Have fun girls! Heaven knows, many of us work hard enough to deserve action, and know we are sexy enough to get it. Good luck!
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Jerk who insulted me now tells me he's in the IRA! BWAHHHAHAHA
|
Posted:Jan 9, 2007 6:35 pm
Last Updated:Feb 13, 2007 12:10 pm
1883 Views
|
> ---------------------------------------------------
> Sender: trottohot5
> To: tradgirl4u
> Date: Jan 9, 2007 8:37 PM WEST
>
> > 1) my doctorate is in veterinary medicine as i operate my own practice .
> 2) as far as politics "up north go" be careful as you are insulting a higher echelon in the "Provos"
> your sense of gepgraphy needs shaking up as i am not irish and never have been !
> so fuck off you slapper
Don't fucking threaten me directly or indirectly, dickweed. You threw the first punch without me asking for it, so I have the right to say WHATEVER I LIKE.
What are you going to do, car bomb a catbox and spell 'Beware Provos' out in smoking cat turds? Given the nepotism of this country I would guess that you are the loser nerd second cousin twice removed of the Provie in question, in which case you're entitled to precisely DICK, especially as Provos can't get me deported for being bitchy, because the Republic could give a SHIT about you people and Uncle Sam revoked Gerry's visa. Gimme a break. Go bomb a mailbox. Loser! And you still have a face for the PUP! Big, ugly, German Protestant steamin redfaced Hun with a teeny Orange Willy to bang King Billy. Now YOU fuck off.
Oh and by the way, what sort of IDIOT in the IRA would use it to threaten a woman who tells him off after he insults her without incitement? If you DID have any connection with the Provos, they would kick you in the head for saying that sort of stupid shit. You are obviously sorely lacking in any genuine sense. Rule number 1: don't say 'I'm in the IRA' just because you're pissed off for not getting laid and looking to start a fight with a WOMAN. That will get you certain negative attention from sources you DON'T want to piss off, especially the ones who want to maintain lip service to the peace process. All I would have to do is a little diggin in the Maynooth business directory, go to a local Sinn Féin councillor and tell him you insulted then threatened me when I didn't do anything, which is the truth, and the Shinners will visit your place of business directly to tell you in person not to act like a total fucking idiot.
Do you understand, Seamus O'Dumbass?
Good. NOW fuck off.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
How to REALLY tell off an insulting jerk
|
Posted:Jan 9, 2007 6:01 am
Last Updated:Feb 13, 2007 12:10 pm
1976 Views
|
By the way before this I want to mention that I was the one approached and insulted right off the bat. So I DO NOT have any qualms about posting his handle here, as well as the handle of TheKingofKings70 who robbed 50 Euro and my mobile from my feckin handbag like a dolie scamming his mother, and whose scams can be corroborated by a number of women on FriendFinder-x who were otherwise too embarrassed to admit they were robbed by that thievin bastard. His drippy sweet blog is a front, he's too flaccid and weak to climb a ladder with fire equipment on or hold a hose with pressurised water, (I could beat him at arm wrestling) and he does not own a firemens badge, and is therefore NOT A DUBLIN FIREFIGHTER.
He is lucky I did not file a report against him to the gardai, as my name would have ended up in one of the two hundred daily gossip rags that prove that 99.999% of people in this country have no life, other than following me round the supermarket like nosy sheep to see what I'm buying- and crowding in to get what I get as soon as I get it. (this happens to me a lot here in Ireland especially in Derry. Besides being cut off in Dublin traffic, it's the MOST ANNOYING thing people do here and it makes me want to scream GET A LIFE in the middle of Tescos). And then they turn around and judge me ruthlessly on all fronts because they're afraid to think for themselves. So I have NO PROBLEM WHATSOEVER telling off YET ANOTHER sniping, judgmental sheep who contributes to the morose malaise of this otherwise beautiful country by snapping at me for having the nerve to cheerfully set standards (ESPECIALLY after the KingofKings debacle) and assert myself in my profile.
Oh yes, and I DID send a reply to him PERSONALLY.
My reply to this WANKER:
-----------------------------------------------
With a PhD and an MD I'm surprised that your English skills got you through a dissertation. Did you write it in crayon too? What you define as a 'bitchy attitude' is nothing more than having a) standards, b) self-confidence, and c) a sense of humor, which unlike most Irish you seem to be sorely lacking; probably because you with your MD PhD are still not getting laid regardless.
Of course, like the doctor in the US currently being sued for telling his patient that she was too fat to shag white men, your medical programming may insist that a fat bird like me does not deserve to have any tools of self-esteem, due to social pressures and health issues. Fortunately I am an exception to the rule and am both physically and sexually active, and barring one scam artist who used my gentle nature to rob my house, the other men and couples I met here have not only been excellent company, but have jobs in the real world, families, and normal lives. So much for your theory. Your CV probably consists entirely of self referral.
And by the way, I wouldn't know about fucking a sack of potatoes as only Irish eat as many spuds. I am a YANK. Which means, I am perfectly willing to open up my big mouth and tell your yeller-bellied pansy ass to go to hell, and take your sack of praties with you. I have plenty of feelings, but I wouldn't trust sharing them with you as far as I could piss on your face.
If you are a psychotherapist as I gather from having a PhD AND an MD, (unless you like many FriendFinder-x men are lying on your profile), I suggest doing another crayon dissertation entitled, 'Neurotic Ego Projection and Social Distortion in Obese Females'. Then you can put my big fat face on the cover, and continue to lament the fact that not only do I have a plethora of real friends, but my pussy is getting more action in a week than your flaccid ding dong has in a decade, and that's counting all your paid liaisons where the slapper in question didn't throw up beforehand.
Either that, or go into politics up North. Your face is perfect for the DUP. I think it's something to do with vinegary old mugs who instead of shaggin would rather lie in a bathtub while a line of twinks in cowboy hats take turns having a pony in their gob.
How's that for bitchy?
Have a nice day!
> ---------------------------------------------------
> Sender: trottohot5
> To: tradgirl4u
> Date: Jan 9, 2007 12:17 PM WEST
>
> > yes people like you give women a bad name i actually dont need to shag the sunday joint as im sure it would be the same as you anyway .
> and if that so called bitchy attitude has got you seriously laid i dread to think whats laid you !!
> i would also think that it would be like fucking a sack of potatoes as you seem so lacking in feeling whatever thats your choice
> goodbye sweatbag ---------------------------------------------------
> > Sender: tradgirl4u
> > To: trottohot5
> > Date: Jan 9, 2007 1:25 AM WEST
> >
> > > ---------------------------------------------------
> > > Sender: trottohot5
> > > To: tradgirl4u
> > > Date: Dec 29, 2006 11:07 AM WEST
> > >
> > > what an ignorant bitchy manner you have seem to think you may be gods gift to men better you dont go on sites like this then im sure there is some insult cow site available to you !!
> >
> >
> > Well too bad for you, this bitchy attitude seems to get me seriously laid. I've got a main squeeze AND plenty of side action. What have you got? Well when you want women to be passive and stupid with no standards, the choice is zip, zilch, and nil!
> >
> > Good luck shagging the Sunday joint!
As Old Klingon Proverb goes, 'Revenge is a dish best served cold'.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
HAHAHA!!!!!!!!! A dumbshit emails me...
|
Posted:Jan 8, 2007 5:29 pm
Last Updated:Jan 9, 2007 4:50 am
1853 Views
|
...AND I post my reply to my blog: He types:
> Date: Dec 29, 2006 11:07 AM WEST
>
> what an ignorant bitchy manner you have seem to think you may be gods gift to men better you dont go on sites like this then im sure there is some insult cow site available to you !!
AND I REPLY:
Well too bad for you, this bitchy attitude seems to get me seriously laid. I've got a main squeeze AND plenty of side action. What have you got? Well when you want women to be passive and stupid with no standards, the choice is zip, zilch, and nil!
Good luck shagging the Sunday joint!
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Wonderful couples liaison
|
Posted:Jan 8, 2007 5:11 pm
Last Updated:Apr 30, 2024 7:52 am
1827 Views
|
Just this past weekend I met up with my first FriendFinder-x couple. Well, we had a fabulous and horny time, and really made a wonderful memory to share with my long-term partner, who just tonight spent over three hours making love to me in every possible horny position. He gets so turned on by my adventures that he becomes a sexual monster when I see him afterward.
I don't know what it is that turns him on so much about me going off with couples...although, I do have to say, being with a couple is the ultimate friendly no-strings experience! Not only do you make a couple of good friends who are trustworthy and solid, but you can have fabulous nookie with them as an option to a boring evening inside.
He gets so turned on when I go off and play, and then come back to him after. He doesn't even feel the need to have any conquests of his own; he considers valuing my sexual freedom to be one major thing that will keep me loving and trusting him (which is very true) and he loves it when I share my sexuality with others, which validates my sexiness and desirability and thus, his choice of me as a long term partner. It's a new angle of psychology which I have never before experienced. And I love it. My two marriages died out after less than four years each...but somehow, I see this one being strong and alive for a long, long time.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Penis elongation surgery? What do you think of it?
|
Posted:Dec 7, 2006 9:30 am
Last Updated:Jan 8, 2007 6:24 pm
1971 Views
|
Have you ever noticed that when a guy gets penis elongation surgery, first of all his dick hangs down and second of all there's a big dimple above his dick where you can tell the suspension ligament was cut?
I personally don't like it. It's not as if the actual erectile length is changed to any significant degree first of all, and what happens when you get older and your dick hangs down low anyhow? Will it be bomping between your knees at that stage?
Here's my point of view: it only takes 3 inches to hit my G-spot, and I'm a large woman who can take up to 10 inches all the way down. First of all, why bother; second of all, why pay that kind of money when you can spend it on something that will translate to far greater sex appeal, such as decorating your house or getting karate lessons? I am very very skeptical of plastic surgery when body dysmorphia and promiscuity is encouraged by a desire for approval, rather than a genuine desire to have fun with other human beings.
Like with genuine cases of micropenis, plastic surgery should be for situations where there is a genuine issue like birth defect or accident. When people spend that kind of money to turn a normal penis into a slightly bigger penis, it's just silly, conspicuous consumption. If that were the case, I would much prefer a large diamond than a smaller nose...the large diamond says I have enough money not to care what I look like!
Anyhow, between you and me, one very simple practice will stop American men from having little dicks. You know what that is? Don't circumcise your male . The size differential is a full 25-30 percent in girth and length. (This is speaking from experience in being with European men!!) That means, the Arab tribes who invented all that silly dick lengthening nonsense with the weights and the horny goat weed, etc, would have avoided all that by just not subjecting their male to mutilation. Why Americans do it by habit, is beyond me. Quit circumcising and to hell with plastic surgery. Just enjoy what you have and work on what's far sexier anyhow, your personality. There are too many guys who put too much stock in their cock and don't have anything worth contributing elsewhere.
What do you think?
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
Ricki Lake Just Annoyed Me
|
Posted:Dec 5, 2006 2:28 pm
Last Updated:Dec 7, 2006 10:25 am
2166 Views
|
Ricki Lake's latest show called "Quit sleeping around, Mom!" was a pathetic lineup of trashy, undereducated sluts who were more likely to have problems with alcohol than with sleeping around. The fact of the matter is, the time they spent fucking would have been better spent in night school getting their G.E.D. and learning a trade which, once they were working, would earn them the right to fuck a coworker in the Janitor's closet.
Ricki ended the show with a diatribe stating that "when you have a or , your needs come second for the time being, have only 1 childhood, there's time to date after they grow up, but as of right now your life is about them"... and not you getting laid.
What do I have to say to that, as a 34 year old mom??? FUCK YOU RICKI! First of all, my is fine and my marrige went down the crapper, Daddy is absolutely committed to our but even if he WAS a deadbeat and I was a single parent, I would still make time to get laid for the three hours she would be off at nursery school twice a week. I'm sorry Ricki, my may only have one childhood, but when I don't have sex, I am far worse in hormonal mood and more at risk of being a screamer, a 'hysteric' as Freud would say. I am in my thirties, Ricki. I like my healthy blood pressure and I don't need Prozac. Why? If I do NOT have, minimum, a relationship in which I get laid on a regular basis, I am PISSED OFF AT THE WORLD and NOT an acceptable candidate for having adequate patience with . Do my needs come second? My may have only one childhood but I have only one adulthood, and I make sure she is safe and well fed and happy...and I WILL GET LAID. Because hugs and kisses and cock for me, translate to hugs and kisses and patience with my !
Bitchy, demanding on your show who are embarrassed that their mother is getting cock, even from multiple partners, can get a grip on reality. First of all, no wants to know that their parents fuck, which is natural, and second of all, don't understand the veracity of hormonal needs in fully grown adults. If Mommy isn't paying full and constant attention to you, then it MIGHT be because between driving you to school, working for a living, and making sure you're healthy and safe, it would be NICE once in a while for Mommy to get a G-spot massage provided by a willing partner.
If a is still upset that Mommy is getting laid, look at the other factors which are the actual problem...and which might have nothing to do with Mom having sex...like alcohol abuse, maybe? Or Drugs? Or ignoring you? Or verbally abusing you? Ricki, a mother having sex is not a problem if she has half a brain, manages her 's activities responsibly, and knows how to time her liaisons and choose her partners with common sense.
And , if you're upset that Mommy is bonking one of the single soccer dads in the back of his family van during your practice, while you're being told to do laps by your coach, just be glad she's committed to be out there waiting for you and she had better have her cell phone if you need her. The world bursts at the seams with hypocrisy when it comes to the needs of the adult body. You will understand when you are the right age. Meanwhile, enjoy being a and don't worry about the noises in Mom's bedroom. But if you think her boyfriend is a loser, tell her, not to be jealous, but because sometimes are right. Otherwise just cut her a little slack, OK?
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
A poem for my Lover...the smell of You
|
Posted:Nov 23, 2006 4:27 pm
Last Updated:Nov 24, 2006 1:52 am
1853 Views
|
The smell of you is a drug, I need it, I can’t be without it,
To bury my nose in your hair and breathe,
To kiss your neck and feel you lean against me in trust,
I need it forever until I follow you
Over the rainbow bridge.
The honeyed scent of joy
Emanates from the bed like perfume,
When I unfold for you like a flower
And give you my nectar again and again,
In floods and gushes
I sit and ride you and explode like a volcano.
Under me your face becomes young,
The years fall away,
And I see a dark eyed lover smiling,
I see you as a beautiful woman, and I the man
Ravaging you with my desperate need
Then back again to your gentle eyes
The smell of you purring in my heart.
You always gaze into my eyes quietly
And it disconcerts me.
You stroke me, and I writhe beneath you,
You bite my neck and I become the wolf,
I feel my teeth sharpening in excitement
And my nose shudders high on the scent of a feast,
Hot your breath on me becomes a flame
And sparks fly from my teeth,
And I shake like the plane in a storm.
Plunging into me while you kiss me, and taste me,
And lick my nipples,
Is none other than the great horned Pan,
His great cock like lightning within
And you the gentle magus bent over me,
Making me your goddess
With kisses and adoration
While I shine and burst with the light of Ishtar.
The silver veil of the northern sun
Thin as the pretense of this world
Rips away from my forehead in a furnace of fire,
And beside my body, I heard the transformation
In my voice of the great Alpha spirit
And one great snarl in her voice,
Of a pure free being who says,
I love you
And places that moment among the stars
Until the end of the world.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
Female ejaculation...what a gusshhhhhhh
|
Posted:Nov 22, 2006 10:05 am
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2006 8:10 am
2125 Views
|
Well as of yet, I haven't had any problems telling my potential partners that I am a female ejaculator, none of them have been grossed out, and I have gotten several guys into it as a major fetish.
Because female ejaculation is so different from urination, it was surprising when it started, but not something which embarrassed me, fortunately. My marriage was ending at that point anyhow, so what I did in my own bed with my vibrators was of little consequence. But when my ejaculation started requiring doubled towels and I was breaking vibrators at a level of one every three weeks from fluids leaking in, I realised that my Skene's glands were growing rapidly due to use.
I was unable to ejaculate until I was over 30 years old. Then, after I had my , I discovered both my g-spot and my ability to ejaculate, first in a trickle, then as I developed my orgasms, into a gushing series of explosions. And I was surprised at how different my ejaculate was from urine...it's clear, very hot, musky, smelling almost like maple syrup and very pleasant- whereas urine is nasty and if I ever got THAT on myself, could smell in a second. So there's something to it, and now after several years of fem ejaculation I can release sometimes about eight to twelve ounces of fluid in one session of sex. And my male partners LOVE it, especially the ones who have either never experienced it before, or my love partner who demands I soak him constantly while riding on top.
We were going to get together tonight and had stopped by when he was called into work, so he went thinking it would be an hour which turned into five consecutive jobs. He works in customer service and he was laughing and cussing on the phone with me just now...he had taken a sildenafil gel in anticipation of a session of squir-terrific sex like we always have. Now, he's stuck on a motorway with a stiffy going nowhere. I guess that's the price of putting all your eggs in one basket...or cocks in one pussy...lmao...
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
My observations on stalking behaviour...(serious issue here on FriendFinder-x)
|
Posted:Nov 21, 2006 5:19 pm
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2006 8:10 am
2138 Views
|
OK just before I go into this, I am NOT out to slam men. I am mostly heterosexual, and I love men. There are plenty of female behavioral maladies out there especially in Ireland which deserve equally as vicious a verbal mauling, BUT right now this is about some pathetic male aggression patterns which seem specific to the US and deserve a good browbeating.
There is another very talented and nice American female blogger on FriendFinder-x who has had some issues with stalking and harassment from males in the chatrooms, and when I replied to her post I realised that it was worth a blog entry in its own right. I just wanted to say folks, that this is a serious issue in the US, in real life, and it is reflected in microcosm in the US FriendFinder-x chatrooms.
Right now as an expatriate American, I am so thankful that I live here in Ireland, where men are far less likely to get away with genuinely sociopathic behavior on the levels I have experienced back home. I have some very disturbing past experiences with violent crime in the US, as an innocent victim and a very lucky survivor with the strength to fight back and win. So I refuse to behave like a victim, because I have much better things to do. But, it is a major challenge to be an independent woman in the US and stay safe from predators. So I have a bit of insight into a few sociopathic patterns which crop up in male sexuality in the US all too often.
The truth is, that although FriendFinder-x is an excellent platform to find sex partners on neutral ground, and it is easy enough to view a profile and see if someone's worth the effort, you don't really know someone until you get to know them. When you meet people in Europe off of FriendFinder-x, the cultural nature of sex changes, obviously. The fact is, women in the UK and Ireland are inculturated to have a LOT more power and personality than in the US. As a semi-intelligent woman growing up in the US, AND in the South, I was constantly at odds with male dominated society and expectations of social and religious pretenses which I abhorred. When I came to Ireland in 2000, it felt as if I was peeling off a 500 pound suit of emotional armor. I did not have to be on the defense for male stupidity combined with a culture that permits carrying handguns, and expecting female subservience when a man shows off his toys and financial successes.
Obviously, that is not the norm in the US; there are plenty of genuinely sweet and wonderful men there. But a sensible standard of how to treat women is sorely lacking and genuine decency is not inculturated, and when it is, it's in a paradigm of religious goody-goody righteousness that begs to throw the baby of common decency out with the foul bathwater of vomit-inducing religious hypocrisy.
So here's my original reply to her blog...she was very annoyed about being stalked and harrassed in the chatroom...here's my tuppence-worth.
-----------
I hate to say this, but excessive male egotism to the point of psychosis, and the delusion that all interaction is about them, is something with the 'Made In America' stamp on it. It's also something fairly common in Australia, the Middle East, etc and any other country where men are in a patrician/religious conservative society where they expect cooperative submission from women.
America is rife with it...it's part of the culture war. Too many American men want the fruit of sexual liberation, with the benefits of old fashioned Protestant-style female submission. If there were a legal way for me to arrange taking a crap down the mouth of men who expect one and legislate the other, I would be more than happy, but the investment required to open a dominatrix dungeon in Washington DC would be prohibitive.
The two assholes I got stuck with here in Ireland were assholes not because of ego but because of guilt, and the other because of jealousy...but Irish, when they're jealous, don't confront you and harass you because they know better.
No, worse...they steal from your purse on the way out.
In America, however, there is a lack of social vilification at seeking attention for anything that doesn't require genuine talent. Over here, if someone seeks attention, it is for something they can do well, and do it on a stage or in a studio or exhibit at a show. But acting out aggression in any way other than in sports in the UK and Ireland immediately gets stamped down and vilified socially. This means that the little packs of testosterone crazed bar hoppers who go slumming in the US and behaving like complete abusive miscreants, will quickly find their asses getting kicked here in Ireland. Why? Simple...in the US, police like to stamp down the good guys as well as the bad guys, throw everyone in the tank, and leave things unresolved. Here, if the whole village knows someone is an asshole, the police take their time getting to the scene of a righteous ass kicking.
And, not only that, but the female social network here in Ireland is merciless. If one female starts talking about the stupid or nasty things someone has done, and one other person has witnessed or experienced it, then it's good bye reputation...permanently.
The Irish do not forget sleights, or narcissistic personality disorder. NPD does not exist here for the same reason that menopause does not exist in Japan...soy gives Japanese women balanced hormones, and fear of social humiliation for acting the prick gives Irish men the desire to be polite, canceling the potential for full blown illness on all fronts.
So if one American jackass is stalking you, don't worry about it...humiliate him thoroughly, but not regarding his behavior concerning you, rather his behavior concerning him. There is potential for mental illness if his sociopathic patterns are not reined in and controlled soon.
There are a lot of men in the US who see themselves as the lone wolf, self-righteous and angry about how they think the world is not ideally working out for them. The fact is, they cannot make time for other human beings, or realise that the rest of the world is honestly too busy to focus on them exclusively, because they crave the attention that a small does. So their paranoia is a mechanism that feeds itself...they believe that everything is about them, not because they are afraid of the attention but because they crave it. Men in the US too often are not socialised to having groups of mates who expect them to make equal allowances for others...in the US, it's about economic status competition. In the US, it's not the fair, funny, sociable guy who gets the friends and the girls, it's the rich guy. And this has created such a bitter lone-wolf mentality for certain men in the US, that it is no wonder those who are outside that structure, as well as unfortunate subscribers to the female-submissive ideal, are constantly foiled.
Sad, isn't it? But it explains how sexual frustration can bloom into psychosis, when the dead end options of seeing oneself as entitled to certain treatment, is constantly at odds with how the world really works. And that is the root of all of his problems. No man is entitled to anything from anybody, except the chance to prove himself as decent and worthwhile, even if it includes going away and not taking it personally when a woman is not interested in him. If the stalkers and obsessive attention-seekers of this world could just get their minds round that concept, the world would be a much happier place.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
Chalk up another Irish victim of my American blowjob skills
|
Posted:Nov 21, 2006 6:50 am
Last Updated:Dec 1, 2006 8:15 am
1895 Views
|
Have most men in Ireland NOT gotten a decent blowjob before, ever? I have hooked up with a select few very nice guys in Ireland for liaisons...forget the occasional losers I ranted about in the last posting...and it seems that the ones I have been nice enough to go down on(who were respectful and pleasant enough to deserve a blowjob let alone a fuck) have gone very nearly ga ga about my blowjobs and shot loads which were unbelievable.
I just had one today, a sweet young gentleman (well around 30, my age) who is good enough a hard fuck but when I went down on him, sweet jesus I never heard the end of puffing and moaning and yes yes yes, and then all of less than two minutes later, kablam. Then they have to lie down light headed and giddy. So all I can guess is that I need to teach Irish women a thing or two about blowjobs, because the guys I've given them to have acted like blowjob virgins in seventh heaven, and I consider myself only a half decent blowjob expert. And each one of them has said, afterward, without prompting, that Irish women can't give a good blowjob.
It's not rocket science!
I can't even conquer the gag reflex and can only go all the way down in little bits here and there, usually for me it's only about four inches down so I have to focus on tonguework and sucking. But apparently on the more sensitive and responsive glans on the uncircumcised European cock, that's exactly what gets them off in loads. And loads. So not only is it easier to give blowjobs here in Europe, but Irish women still can't do it???
If a man is nice enough to you and treats you right, it's not a bad thing to kiss his cock with a little appreciation, especially when he practices the 'she comes first' philosophy and is willing to be caring, pleasant and kind. You know, a lot of the Irish men on FriendFinder-x are here due to an unsatisfactory sex life at home and are looking for a ray of hope. I think all they need is a half decent blow job.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
After four months in Ireland...
|
Posted:Nov 19, 2006 6:57 am
Last Updated:Nov 21, 2006 6:22 am
1989 Views
|
I have learned the value of the words 'NO' and 'GO AWAY'. Why? Because there is no other website on earth that has more losers in it masquerading as nice guys, than here. See, at least in instant chatrooms like alternativeireland.com, the jackasses immediately filter themselves out asking me for jerkoff material, instantly proving that their social skills are more retarded than those of a pinhead from eastern Montana. I can then close their little chat window and gleefully make fun of them in the main chatroom. Then, just occasionally, I find someone capable of holding up a conversation about things that matter.
Whereas here, guys can plan out their interactions with profiles and mails...and THEN prove to be jackasses in the test run when I've already wasted my time emailing back and forth and think FINALLY they're trustworthy enough to get my mobile number. Then what happens? They text me constantly...day and night...hi and hello, and at the worst moments like in the middle of work or when I'm putting my to bed...the phone beeps, wakes her up, and it's a picture of some dork's small cock taken in bad lighting with a grainy camera phone.
Yeehaa. Aren't I fucking turned on. Can't you tell, I'm fingering my pussy RIGHT NOW getting all fucking wet and horny for you when you annoy me with dumb shit! I CONSTANTLY am fingering my horny wet girlfriend while we wait in schoolgirl's uniforms for us to take pictures of it and send them to you, just because we have no fucking idea who you are. My goal in life guys, is to LIVE for your below average hardons and the two and a half minutes it takes you to reach orgasm...then you disappear POOF, in a sparkling cascade of guilt because you either lied on your FriendFinder-x profile regarding your marital status, or feel that you've had a shallow sexual experience. Oh, really! Could you have guessed beforehand, perhaps?
OH YEAH GUYS that shit REALLY turns me on. Can't you tell? Can't you just see that my low standards are so easily reached and I'm aching for action? Come on now, mail me! Barrage my FriendFinder-x inbox with pathetic entreaties for pictures of me playing with myself, beg me for a quickie, try your damnedest to find a female who is so horny that she will let you do what you like while you keep your wallet shut.
Because that is the goal of FriendFinder-x isn't it... you, gentlemen, wish to find a female that is both uncomplicated emotionally and who will validate your virility by giving you a freebie! As author Brendan Behan said to effect, 'It is far cheaper to buy a woman in the short term than it is to marry one in the long term.' You, FriendFinder-x males, desire both...a woman who will screw you and not love you, and just wants the screw for free.
Well, here's my take on it, boys. A year ago, my marriage was in the toilet. I was stuck celibate and in my hometown, did not want to sexually experiment due to the fact that I knew everyone and their brother. My husband had not touched me since we had conceived our ...who by that time, was over a year old. I was so horny I could have fucked a picket fence and gotten off on it. Compound that with the fact that I was getting ready to move overseas, and knew that I had to get some action in Ireland somehow.
So I put my profile on FriendFinder-x and get a shitload of responses. Hundreds. But one of them stands out...a male who addresses me respectfully and with consideration. Was this a rare thing? I have concluded a year later, after he insists that I remain sexually free due to his medical condition and work demands, that the man I chose for a real relationship was one in a FUCKING MILLION, and that occasionally, just rarely, if you put up something out of the ordinary whether it's FriendFinder-x or any other meat market, you *might* find someone who is just as special.
Why? Because not before or since, through wading through emails and last first dates, and liaisons, and quickies and a few second dates, have I found one man who compares to the one I love. And the main thing that made me love him was respect. He respects me...treats me with consideration...makes sure that what I do is only what I want...but at the same time is so passionate about me that regardless of whether he can achieve orgasm, I still end up cumming over and over and over again...and this man is NOT RICH. He is, put very simply, gentle, considerate, imaginative, interesting, and charismatic.
It's really a shame, pathetic, that there are so many men pissing and moaning into their FriendFinder-x profiles about how little they recieve responses when they correspond. At least I have tried to be polite...and ended up with a stable of jackasses, half of which don't even have cocks of jackass size, and the ones who do, see themselves as stallions...when, in fact, they are just a fucking jackass with no other virtues; no politeness, no humility, no job, no personality, no charisma, no talent, no god damn nothing. Just a big cock. Whoopee, fucking, do. You're a human dildo! Congratulations! You get a bronze turd. As much as I have been tempted to make the dumbasses who have met me for a fuck from this website open their wallets and give me a stipend for wasting my time, I do realise that is a career move for me way way WAY down the ladder of self-respect. So I have instead chosen to limit my interaction to couples.
A woman who has anything resembling standards will marry a man who is worth her time. What better way than to enjoy no strings sex with two people who love each other...and want a bit of flavor in their committed sex life. The married man has virtues that 99.9% of the single men here do not. Either that, or the single men here were, at some point in the past, raised right...but through the online sex industry, now subscribe to a mistaken impression of the constant availability of free, emotionless sex as a relief from dysfunctional marriages, or their own celibacy induced by a lack of genuine virtues including courage.
Hey guys...those women on the websites are PAID to do what they do, sometimes upwards of several thousand dollars an hour. The online porn industry is so BIG that everyone wants in on the financial action as a model; that is why there are so many of them. They're not out to fuck YOU, they're out to MAKE MONEY. If fucking you isn't going to make a woman MONEY, or be worth her time in the long run, then your role is little more than that of a recreational drug: a quick boost of jizz between other things that matter more. Is that what you want? Then move to California with the rest of the beautiful jackasses and brainless bubblehead porn stars who think just like you, and proceed to be flattened by an earthquake in your small expensive car while it drops off into the ocean. The rest of us will continue to pursue natural human pair-bonding with a set of logical and ethical priorities.
Because the fact is, the horny woman like myself who finds an outlet and takes on a few candidates will inevitably be disappointed by most and seek out one who makes her happy. And that is when you realize that your wallet is empty, your talents are mediocre, and your charisma is dull, and your male instinct to inseminate females is counteracted by your low status in life. Because for every one of us horny females, there will be a few experiments, a few liaisons, a few fun fucks...but not only do you outnumber us 20 to 1, you only have a short window of time to get any.
The man I fell in love with was a rare man stuck single and shy after the end of an ugly divorce, and it took a long time to chisel off the garbage that other people have dumped on the both of us. But I am proud to say that both of us are still together and in love after a year...and still, to this day, FriendFinder-x still gives me a ton of humor material in the category of single males who overestimate the value of the DNA nestled in their balls...and underestimate the value of some genuine decency, consideration, charisma and respect.
Starting with...not sending me pictures of your cock on my mobile when I'm doing something far more important...not bugging me with hi and hello every hour on the hour...not asking me for sex pictures when I haven't even fucking met you and you haven't made effort 1 to make a good impression, you loser...not stealing 50 euros out of my purse and my phone when I won't become your girlfriend, because I was just using you for a fuck and I'm too nice to tell you you're a total rude egotistical loser with no virtues other than the big cock...not going south of the border to cheat on your wife because you're a chickenshit who wants an easy screw in the EU and then has the nerve to vote DUP back home...that's like where I'm from in the US, some Republican born-again whitey going for black booty and then saying the cocoapuff tyke isn't his.
I'm sick of single guys in Ireland. They apparently, worldwide, are as pathetic as anywhere else. The ones who aren't are, well, much rarer than most...and me, much luckier than most...let's leave it at that.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
The Fenian Gun, final episode
|
Posted:Dec 9, 2005 3:20 pm
Last Updated:Nov 19, 2006 7:05 am
2285 Views
|
He whipped his hand out of my pussy and I stood swaying, gasping in response, as he grabbed both his sweater and shirt from his back collar and yanked it over his head. He stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside, stanking naked in front of me as hairy as a caveman, gripping his gigantic cock, and pressed himself against me again, this time squeezing my ass with his other hand and gently kissing me again. My trousers were soaked with my own cum. He began to push me toward the bed, kissing me the whole time, lying me on my back and then peeling off my soaked pants and knickers together in one move and tossing them flagrantly to the other side of the room.
I could smell him now. The musk of his balls and back of his neck was mingling with the scent of my cum and the sweat under my breasts, as rich as the smell of coffee, of baking bread, of roast. He smiled and in one move took both my knees and pushed my legs into the air, and I spread for him in glory. He was hairy and spreadeagled over me with both his hands behind my knees, bent nearly to my ears, and looking at my pussy, glistening with streams of cum, the hole and my clit still twitching. He exhaled and groaned, taking that moment to enjoy what he was seeing, and then with his eyes looking up into mine as I craned my neck to look, he bent himself down and buried his face in my canal, tongue flicking my cherry red inner labia and plunging into my pussy, then out to once again mercilessly caress my clit, which was terribly sensitive and aching with the last orgasm. The five o’clock shadow on his chin prickled my anus and it tightened in reflex. I was already slicker than seaweed and showed no signs of stopping the trickle of heady arousal.
“You want me?” he whispered, lips glistening, heaving his great furry chest, looking up into my eyes, and raising himself to press down on my knees. He slipped a finger into me and gently circled, making it smack hungrily, and I shuddered.
“God yes,” I whispered back, and gasped. He smiled gently to himself, looked down, and sighed; and released the grip on my knees. Then he brought his knees up to my ass and took hold of himself, and slowly pushed his cock into me, biting his bottom lip, staring into my eyes the whole time. He passed my g-spot and I shivered, and with one final push he shoved himself straight into my cervix, and my whole belly heaved with the pleasure of it. His soft balls were tickling my anus. I was as tight as a virgin, it had been a long time since I had it myself, not out of lack of opportunity but out of cynicism and self-righteousness; and finally my own ego and fear had lost the fight and allowed this passionate man to fuck me to pieces. It was almost painful, but not quite; just a sharp sensation of all my frustrations fighting his cock for all of five seconds, then suddenly I relaxed and he slowly took another thrust.
“Jaaaaaaaaysus you’re toight woman…” he shuddered, “uhnnnnnn!” he thrust again. “Fuck me, you’re squeezin’ the life out of him…,”another thrust, I couldn’t stand it, my g-spot was sighing, my cervix was grinding itself toward him for the french kiss of the head of his cock. “Keep this up woman and I’ll be gone in two minutes…oh FUCK!” his hands clenched into fists on the bed on either side of my breasts, dragging the comforter up with them. He bent his face down, eyes squeezed shut. I recalled that the bullet vibrator which I had used and eventually broken out of excessive use the week before, was used on my clit and when I orgasmed with it, I had kegeled like mad in simple response. Now my pussy had turned into the tightest silk glove a man could hope for because of it, and I felt every inch of his cock inside of me, every detail, every vein, every quiver, and felt it harden like oak, hot as a bonfire and sweet as chocolate. I had to feel more of him, every sensation. I relaxed and instead of tightening inward, I finally pushed out and groaned as my cervix came down to meet him in one luscious embrace. “Is that…better?” I sighed up at him, and he thrust again. Something in his eyes began to burn while he stared at me, and he gripped my ass with both his hands as he lay on top of me. For one moment in the light I saw in his dilated eyes not the darkness I saw earlier in the bar, but a china blue ring that ached from the deepest and most hidden side of his soul, and felt his hardness twitch inside of me as he slowly thrust the raging head of his cock with all his force straight into my g-spot and kissed my cervix. This time it was not my breasts that kept him focused, which were heaving and bobbling under his chin, releasing the scent of my arousal, but my eyes. He stared at me ceaselessly, biting his bottom lip, then began to thrust faster, making quick little breaths each time he slid into me. He relaxed himself and lay the bulk of his body on top of me, sliding his hands up behind my back, with his nose and mouth next to my ear. Then he began to say my name.
Well at that point my orgasm had been a while away from the last one, but suddenly his name began to echo through me and I whispered it back to him. I had never, in all my life, for all the lovers I’ve had, for the two husbands I married, never said someone’s name during sex. I simply never did it; my identity was too precious, I could let him go at any time, I could step away and be invulnerable. But this time his name began to surge outward from the head of his cock and rip through the bulkhead around my heart; leaving a fresh and vulnerable conduit of voice to shudder through my lips, and I sang his name again, and my g-spot began to twitch as he whispered mine, gripping me tighter than a straitjacket. My legs were high in the air and as tight as bowstrings, and he began to rage with his thrusts, each one a little ecstasy, each one a sigh, and as he grew harder inside of me and pressed my pelvic floor with his cock, I felt my clitoris harden like a pebble and suddenly I gasped for life, cried out his name, and gushed like a waterfall. He was pounding me like a piston with his eyes squeezed shut next to my ear, whispering my name, and suddenly he was up on his hands staring into my eyes and the plea in them was made with all his soul. I felt myself begin to bloom and harden again, and his whole body began to shake except for his face, which was stone and fire stabbing me with intent. I was in uncontrollable ecstasy, and I sucked the air in through my mouth in the greatest breath I had ever taken in my life; feeling the waves of sensation stab my pussy faster than I had ever known, and with all the fear shaken away, with all the uncertainty gone, and with every nerve ending my fear had ever dulled, my body and breasts rose to him and I cried out his name in the keen of the banshee, pussy blooming like a rose, clitoris as hard as diamond, and gushed an orgasm in his name with the pressure and force of Niagara, squirting as hard as I had ever done in my life. Right at that moment the red heat in his face exploded and he let out a musical snarl and gasped for breath, crying out my name, and the great pounding changed into a shiver while I felt a white hot rod of steel release a massive load of cum straight onto my cervix, whisshing and whispering in great hot heaves while his body jumped and twitched in response, warm on top of me like a great fur coat, and like a man always is in his forties, vulnerable enough for tears to shudder through him, but in this warrior only for all of a few seconds, enough for one to glisten and drop straight onto my cheek before he buried his face in my shoulder. But I was not immune; something within me had broken as well.
He spooned up next to me after we put down all the spare towels onto the soaking comforter and covered ourselves with the extra blanket in the closet. I felt his warm pelt of a body curl into me, with the occasional caress of my breast with his hand wrapped around me, and the nuzzle of his face into the back of my neck. But when I awoke early the next morning, still too late for the train, I had found that he was gone. Something inside of me sighed, but for some reason, I was not sad; I knew why he had left. He had left before I had the ammunition to break his heart. But I knew something he didn’t; I remembered the name of the town where his mother lived, a tiny hamlet on the coast. I thought, why not try?
Two days later I was driving through Kerry and took a little side trip in the middle of the evening. There it was, a gathering of colored houses sparkling in the great open spaces on the coast. There were only three bars and a coffee shop, and luckily I looked in the window of the coffee shop to see him not with a pint, but a cup of tea, back to the window.
His face seemed drawn and waxy and nonplussed as he sipped from his cup. His mother had him get a haircut and his long black locks were now a short, soft, respectable length, going salt and pepper. I watched him from the open doorway for ten seconds, until he looked about and noticed me. Then, in a moment like the sun reappearing from a patch of cloud, his eyes caught fire again and his whole face lit up and animated as if a current had passed through him. I smiled and sat down next to him, and he asked me if I believed that the eyes were the seat of one’s soul. I told him yes, I thought they were.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (rm_tradgirl4u) use [blog rm_tradgirl4u] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
82
|
92
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
171
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
|
|
