STD: Sick Twisted and Demented Relationship Problems

MOTHER-IN-LAW PLAGUE

Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 07/18/2008 - 09:06.

I truly do love my boyfriend's mom like she was my own, but sometimes when we're visiting I have an uncontrollable urge to down all the Tylenols in the house and sit quietly on the couch, waiting for nature to take its course. It all started while I was living with my dude's family last summer and the following statements caused me to contract a near-death case of Mother-In-Law Plague:

1. When you get married you should ask all your guests to wear cream-coloured outfits. It will look better in the pictures.
2. I can't wait to be in the room when you give birth to your first child!
3. Are you really going to eat that whole box of cookies?

But the ones that bugged me the most…

4. What do you mean you don't garden?
5. What do you mean you don't clean?
6. What do you mean you don't cook?

Even if you're in a monogamous long-term relationship there will always be another woman – his mother. And usually she's there to stay, so you better find a way to co-exist at least semi-harmoniously or else you're in for a looooooooong and bumpy ride.

In my case the other woman often verbalizes personal fears I have about certain aspects of my personality (namely that I'm so far away from Suzy Homemaker on the domestic-adequacy scale you might as well call me Dirty Harry), so I often have a hard time laughing off her comments and moving on. But the thing that sets me free (besides a two-drink minimum) is realizing these are MY issues and I was using her comments as a scapegoat for not feeling grounded and secure within myself. Once I realized that and started looking inwards instead of outwards for approval, I tapped into the kick-ass Goddess I am.

So now every time Mother-In-Law Plague creeps up I fight it off by constantly reminding myself -- I don't like gardening, cleaning or cooking (who the fuck does anyway?), but I can write up a storm, hire a cleaning lady and have three orgasms in a row. And I feel good about THAT!

And come on, give her a break. After all if you've done your job right you're the girl that has sucked every last drop of innocence out of her little boy.

LEASEOPHOBIA

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Mon, 07/07/2008 - 13:01.

After 18 months as a twosome, my dude and I made the decision to try to make it as a foursome with our good friend and his sister. It wasn't because we were getting lonesome on our own, it more came out of a desire to branch out and experience wild new things with exciting new people.

And so the house hunt for the four of us commenced a few weeks ago (what did you think I was talking about, you pervert you?) and finally ended this past Saturday with an adorable place out on the East end. However signing yet another lease with my boyfriend has caused some fundamental reservations about living together to resurface that, thanks to my Catholic guilt, are pretty much wired into my genetic code.

According to Dr. Joyce Brothers in her 1984 book "What Every Woman Ought to Know About Love and Marriage" (given to me by my mother practically as soon as I started menstruating) couples who live together have much less of a shot of walking down the aisle together one day. I try to tell myself that's because living together is hard (it is) and it's much more challenging to stick out sharing a bathroom indefinably than stick out sharing a pizza and a movie every Friday night until one party is finally ready to propose (true without a doubt). I also try to tell myself, who really cares anyway? I love living with him now and I'm not even close to being ready for marriage, so why worry about it?

But the truth is there is a sinking fear inside of me that ol' Joyce might be right, that by the time I figure out I really do want to marry this man all the romance and passion and wonder will be sucked dry from our relationship. At this point I imagine I'll wonder why I felt that urgency to live with him in the first place.

The truth is, living together so far has been awesome. Yes, we now have to work harder at certain things (keeping our sexual misadventures alive and healthy definitely one of them), but it has fostered a sense of community and family between us that I relish coming home to over and over again. So put that in your pipe and smoke it Joyce! This cow may be giving the milk away for free, but she loves having her udders worked so much that she just doesn't give a flying fuck! Hmmmm… Now that's a nice image.

How about you, fellow She does the City-ers? Who is cohabitating in dirty sin with their dude and whose got an incurable case of Leaseophobia? I'd love to hear your symptoms and your cures.

Adventure Allergies

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Tue, 06/24/2008 - 11:00.

This weekend my dude and I hit up my cousin's wedding. We danced like chimpanzees on speed, took pictures like we were the paparazzi and sucked back cake (and booze) like nobody's business.

However although I had no problem public partying like it was 1999, our private romantic relationship took the opposite path. It seemed being surrounded by my family for the weekend totally killed my desire to attempt anything remotely kinky.

My guy on the other hand was all about experimentation. Wanting to play hide the salami WHILE we were sharing a double room with my parents. Suggesting we fornicate beside the vending machine under the hallway stairwell. Egging me on to pursue a friend we made at the wedding, who seemed to be flirting with the both of us all night long (she was adorable by the way, and after the fact her Facebook page indeed confirmed she was into both men and women).

But the potential excitement of these acts was totally sucked dry for me, as all I could focus on was the stress of trying to hide my sexual misadventures from my parents. I was time warped back to a time of high school romances, of sharing first coonodles with the then-boyfriend on the downstairs couch and not being able to enjoy it because of my complete paranoia someone would walk down the stairs undetected and catch us in the act (and not to mention the built-in Catholic reflex I had been groomed with since birth – overwhelming guilt). Unfortunately this left my boyfriend grumpy and complaining that I never want to live on the wild side.

So what does a girl do when she wants to keep adventure alive in her long-term relationship without having a heart attack? Well, I think it's best to start small with something slightly scandalous, something that makes you feel like you're walking with at least one foot on the wild side for a short period of time.

In my case I clocked not one but TWO baby scandals this weekend. At the wedding while "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" blasted out from the speakers, I hopped up to ride on my dude (well, ride on his back that is – but still!) dans la middle of the dance floor for all to see. Then, during our last evening when the two of us wandered off for a nightcap at the abandoned hotel bar, I gave him a full on flash show for an entire two seconds.

One small step for my breasts - one big step for girls with Adventure Allergies everywhere.

So what kind of delicious scandals (baby or grand) have you participated in lately?

BRACE-O-PHOBIA

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Tue, 06/17/2008 - 14:01.

I can't kiss in braces. Or at least I can't kiss properly. You know the open mouth, running tongue on teeth, desperate, breathless oh-so-delicious, oh-so-I-want-you-inside-me-RIGHT-F'IN-NOW kiss? Yeah, I can't pull those off anymore.

Something else I can't pull off with metal mouth? Going – well – erm – you know where I'm going (or where I used to be going anyway). Sucking, licking and/or blowing down there has become a dangerous sport, one only played when I'm extremely horny, extremely drunk, or feeling extremely cruel.

On top of these new romantic relationship faux pas I have also turned into a bonafide drool machine. Apparently in a gesture to welcome my braces my regular saliva has invited over a slew of non-regular saliva and they are all sloshing around together happily in my mouth, having a beach party. Well, at least I won't dehydrate on hot summer days.

So what do you do when your worst braces fears become realized? When you need a hard, passionate movie kiss with every fiber of your being and when your boyfriend is so desperate for a slurp of any kind, anywhere, that he's considered making better buddies with your cocker spaniel?

Well, on my own journey, I have a feeling the first step is acceptance of my new chomper-straighteners and what they've done to my love life; acceptance that sucking face will simply not be the tried and true sensation I'm used to. Once I've come to terms with that I must remind myself every ending marks a new beginning and remember to open myself up to brace sensations I have been ignoring or downplaying simply because they were different.

My prescription for this week? Figure out ways to make my metal mouth kinky. So hang onto your dental floss (ok, that was bad) and I'll report back!

PLAIN OLD ITIS-ITIS

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Mon, 06/02/2008 - 13:38.

Last week my dentist extracted two of my teeth, subsequently turning me into a drooling, whiney, unable-to-eat-solids baby – then he sent me home to my boyfriend. Now this wasn't the first time my dude has seen me lie helpless on the couch, groaning that I'm without a doubt on my deathbed (read: cold, flu and the time I sprained my neck), but as I watched him prepare smoothie after smoothie and keep me stocked with fresh spit-Kleenexes I realized he had once again risen to the challenge of playing my night in shining armor.

Now we gals don't NEED a night in shining armor to rescue us from our ITIS' but lets admit it, it's a comfort to know our dude at least knows how to don a helmet and protective shield every once in a while. Here is a list of what my knight does that actually makes staying home sick now and then enjoyable:

• Soft little kisses on the forehead to show his concern and affection.
• Gently covering me with extra blankets as I doze on the couch.
• Finding amusing video's on YouTube to keep me forever entertained (like "Titanic in 5 Seconds" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LtYk7wsFnk).
• Scrubbing out the toilet when I tell him I feel like I'm going to be sick so I can at least retain some of my dignity while I yack. Following this, holding my hair and rubbing my back while I eject my lunch (now THAT'S love).
• Asking what I have cravings for, then rushing to buy it, prepare it, and serve it.
• Giving slow massages and back scratches in bed.
• Loading my favorite movies into the DVD player while I play dead on the couch.

What all these little things add up to is that he gives fully and completely, even when I'm not in any kind of state to reciprocate. Knowing that gives me such a comforting feeling and makes me feel safe and cared for, something every woman has the right to experience. So if your dude fails to perform at least a few of the above affections when you're in need, it may be time to move your cute, sick little tush onto someone else's chaise. On the other hand, if he passed with flying colours (and even created some of his own comfort tactics to boot!) treat him extra well when you recover - he is most certainly a keeper.

VITAMIN BEER

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Thu, 05/22/2008 - 13:51.

As you've probably gathered from previous articles, my honey and I aren't exactly the rip-each-other's-underwear-off-and-go-at-it-like-rabbits type. But there is indeed an exception to this – when we're smashed off our asses.

Enter May 24, the weekend that stands for beer, bad weather, and bumping uglies (which usually occurs in a tent while under the influence of the first two factors). Now if you're in my shoes you'll find that partaking in the first staple greatly improves your chances for experiencing the last; or, to put it another way, while Vitamin C boosts my immunity, it's VITAMIN BEER that boosts my "you're pretty when I'm drunk" sensitivity.

But beware, if you find yourself in any of the following situations it is likely you, your dude, or perhaps both of you have overdosed:

1. In a moment of drunken passion he tries to rip your tank top off like people do in movies (what movies I can't recall, but I'm sure there are some out there). The problem is you're wearing that really elastically kind from Smart Set that is basically indestructible, so he ends up just tiring himself out and falling asleep before even attempting to insert flap 1 into slot 2.

2. He actually manages to touch down (or in, or whatever) but you pass out halfway through the deed. When you regain consciousness several minutes later you find, like the champion he is, he's still thumping away.

3. He's just about to bring er' home when you leap out of bed without warning so you can run to the bathroom to yack. After that you gurgle Listerine in the bathroom and accidentally swallow it (oh well, there's alcohol in there right? Little more couldn't hurt…) and bound back to bed without missing a beat.

The bottom line? If you find yourself in a long-term relationship where the passion has waned somewhat, an occasional dose of VITAMIN BEER can't hurt (that is, as long as you're pointed at each other when the side effects kick in). Just remember to screw responsibly, and for god's sakes don't screw and drive.

SEX STEROIDS

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Tue, 05/13/2008 - 11:39.

Recently I was whisked away to Florida on a family vacation, leaving my dude to fend for himself dans our shoe box Toronto apartment. Upon my return we forged into a solid three-day stint of frantically ripping each other's clothes off. It was awesome.

However this sexual smorgasboard was as out of place in our apartment as the dead Fern beside the television (a Christmas gift from his mother that we inevitably killed a month after receiving it). This was because while our cohabitation habits (me wearing his socks, me wearing his sweatshirts, him wearing my underwear - ha kidding! I hope…) had skyrocketed over the past 8 months, our coital count was steadily decreasing. But aside from maxing out my bank account to fly far, far away from him so I can eventually enjoy a brief sexually charged reunion – what's a girl to do?

To solve the problem I tried popping a few of these SEX STEROIDS and low and behold a few other things around the house started "popping" too…

• Take one of the many amazing workshops offered at "Come as You Are" or better yet, make him take one. I highly suggest the "How to Eat a Peach workshop with Mirdori", which gave my dude a whole bag of new licks – I mean tricks. ;-)

• Go on a proper date. Trust me, I know how friggin' tempting it is to grab pizza on your way home from work and spend the evening half-passed out on the couch together watching Dancing With the Stars, but seriously, dates do make a difference. Get guessied up so you feel like the sexy vixen you are (trust me, he'll notice), and enjoy the new conversation topics that inevitably materialize once you've gotten outside of your cohabitational comfort zone.

• Go out with girlfriends and leave him home alone. This will leave you feeling re-juiced and refreshed; plus who doesn't love crawling into bed with a slight buzz on from those two glasses of dinner wine, knowing you have someone to seduce?

• Once a week (bare minimum), tell him you need the place to yourself for a few hours. Then do and eat whatever the hell you want without having to worry about pleasing or appeasing anyone else. I know every time I'm granted some extra space it's much easier to see that I do indeed have room for someone else in it.

Feel free to share any other SEX STEROIDS you use to pump you up, I will use all the drugs I can get.

INAPPROPRIATE INFLUENZA

Submitted by laurenvalentine on Thu, 05/01/2008 - 12:30.

My boyfriend and I share a close group of confidants to whom we divulge an excessive amount of relationship information. The other day after one of them made a crack about one of our (very) private kinks I had to ask myself – had we revealed too much?

If your group of friends is privy to a similar list of unmentionables you may consider yourself infected with INAPPROPRIATE INFLUENZA:

1. They know you have sex on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays - plus if you're away on vacation or if it's a statutory holiday.

2. They know he has a mole on the inside of his butt cheeks that you once mistook for a piece of feces and totally flipped out over.

3. They know after a night of excessive partying he goes to the drugstore to pick up a pack of gravel for you (and no, not just any gravel – exclusively the gravel that goes in your bum). In fact, they usually accompany him.

4. They know he jokes your breasts would be perfect - if they were slightly bigger. They know you tease him back by letting him know it would be ok if his penis magically grew an inch or so.

5. They know that the reason he's walking funny is because last night you felt "experimental" with a certain sex toy of yours. They also know this sex toy has been deemed: "The Purple Monster".

The cure? Well, if I had that figured out I wouldn't be continuing to share these tidbits with my friends, or writing about them in a weekly SDTC column for that matter. However for me it all comes down for showing respect for your partner and their wishes. Luckily I'm dating a dude who also relishes sharing these intimate details in order to disassemble and dissect them, and not to mention experience the delight of testing people's shock-o-meter to the limit (I know, we're freaks). But I run everything by him before I make it public - and vice versa - and would never post anything he was uncomfortable with.

So if like us you're comfortable with airing your private life in public, go for it. If done within your personal boundaries and limits (however lax they may be) INAPPROPRIATE INFLUENZA isn't a terminal disease – it can in fact be surprisingly liberating. Personally I think it's absolutely fascinating to learn about others experiences, the rawer and realer the better.

DISCLAIMER: To live with INAPPROPRIATE INFLUENZA it helps to develop the proper antibodies to sustain one's overall well being. These include a thick skin and fantastic sense of humor.

THE 3AM HUMP BUG

Submitted by Anonymous on Wed, 04/23/2008 - 10:44.

I have an infestation of the worst possible kind in my bed. It's called THE 3AM HUMP BUG and is also known as my horny boyfriend who, every night unfailingly, tries to seduce me while he's half asleep.

The routine goes something like this:

3AM - I groggily register he has shuffled from his half of the bed to mine and is now spooning me in a sloppy, half-hearted embrace. I assume something is up but am WAYYYYY too tired to do anything about it.

3:02AM - He slowly starts kissing my neck. Actually it's more like tired puppy dog licking because he's too sleepy to really form his pucker properly. I'm falling in and out of consciousness and suddenly my dream I'm caught naked running down Queen West in a rain shower seems much more real…

3:05PM - He has found his way to my breasts and is engaging in full fondle mode. Ok, ok, so that does feel kinda nice, if I wasn't so exhausted there's a SLIM chance that I MAY entertain the idea.

3:07AM - He starts grinding me from behind and I can definitely feel how ready to go he is (that ain't a banana sister). I am now officially turned on, but it's so late, and I'm so tired, and I have to be up for work in four hours, and -- OH, HELLO, well that feels good...

3:09AM - I am no longer a bit sleepy. I roll over in total lust and heat and passion and with a "lets do this baby!" mentality.

3:10AM - He rolls towards the wall and goes back to sleep. SERIOUSLY. I try to reverse the routine – nothing. I smack him on the back a few times – nothing. The man has become unrousable.

3:15AM - I'm left wide-awake wondering what the hell just happened. I either take care of myself with my emergency vibrator (who, I might add, is ALWAYS up and ready to go), or try to sleep with my pent up sexual frustration (which I plan to turn into boyfriend-wrath the next day).

8AM - Once he has had his morning shower and is clearly with it, I demand to know what happened last night. He either has no recollection of the incident at all or remembers it vaguely, saying once he finally got me in the mood he realized how much "work" still needed to be done to get me off, and it just made him sleepy.

If you can identify with this chain of events it's likely you've got a hump bug in your bed. If the infestation is driving you as crazy as it's driving me, try the following extermination tactics:

• Put a massive wall of pillows between you and the bug before you go to bed. This will restrict his easy access to late night fondles.
• Turn towards him as soon as he starts his mating dance to scare him off. This way you'll avoiding getting turned on and can fall immediately back to sleep.
• Fuck him so hard before he goes to bed he'll have nothing left for the 3AM HUMP BUG in him. This is my personal favorite remedy.
• After he has roused you and refused to follow through, jump up and down on the bed while yelling, "NOW YOU TRY AND SLEEP THROUGH THIS!!!" He'll think twice about bed humping you tomorrow night.

Good night, good luck and good riddance!

EVEN HOMELESS PEOPLE WON'T CHOKE DOWN MY COOKING flu

Submitted by Anonymous on Mon, 04/14/2008 - 10:34.

The only thing I can sort of, kind of, maybe cook is those Betty Crocker brownies with the swirly fudge thingie in the middle. I pull this off approximately two times per year when the planets are aligned just right and God himself bestows a fleeting sprinkle of culinary mercy upon me. My boyfriend on the other hand possesses a freakish man-in-the-kitchen gene, enabling him to turn sad looking slabs of frozen poultry into Chicken Cordon Bleu (notice the capitals, which mark its foodie importance).

So what's the problem you ask? Well, usually there is no problem. I stuff my face full of Chicken what-ever-you-wanna-call-it and am as happy as a piggie in fresh poop. However once in a blue moon the fact that I'm totally ill-equipped to reciprocate my man's culinary generosity leaves me feeling guilty, and if not dealt with properly that guilt can lead to a full-blown case of EVEN-HOMELESS-PEOPLE-WON'T-CHOKE-DOWN-MY-COOKING FLU. To asses if you're at risk, peruse the following catalyst behaviors that often lead to the dreaded flu...

1. He knows how to roast, sauté and barbeque fine delicacies. You know how to select, call and pay for take out.

2. He uses the oven to whip up homemade four course meals with names like Veal Marsala with Baked Alaska and Duck a l'Orange with Banana Flambé. You use the microwave to nuke Campbell's soup for an appetizer, lean cuisine for an entrée, and Chips Ahoy soft baked cookies for dessert.

3. He consumes one serving of protein, grain, and a healthy fat during every meal. You consume one (or two, or three…) serving(s) of caffeine, chocolate and alcohol during every day.

4. When he's out to dine he can identify the taste of spices that sound like they've popped straight out of a J.R.R. Tolkien novel (tarragon? chervil?). You feel fancy when you use more then one salt packet on your fries at Harvey's.

To keep a healthy partnership and ward off the disease, simply keep things balanced. If he's cooking dinner every night perhaps you can take care of the clean up. Or if you're feeling extra generous, let him know whenever he prepares the main course you'll take care of dessert - and by dessert I mean performing burlesque dances on the dinner table or balancing spoons on your nose and nipples while humming the circus theme song (this can be especially entertaining when you have friends over for dinner). Trust me, this should ensure you never have to cook a meal again.

The truth is if you're lucky enough to have bagged a dude who has cooking down to an art, he probably likes it. So sometimes it's just best to keep your EVEN-HOMELESS-PEOPLE-WON'T-CHOKE-DOWN-MY-COOKING FLU to yourself and simply enjoy your tasty Rump Roasts (both the fancy one on your plate and the delicious one the back of your boyfriend).