What Going To A Virtual Sex Club Is Actually Like

“You ready?” I asked, adjusting my cleavage in my old costume corset before turning toward my husband. He peered at me through the black, lace mask (recently purchased as a two-pack from Amazon), the mixture of excitement and uncertainty I felt mirrored on his own face. We were about to attend our first virtual orgy, something I never even knew existed until coronavirus stripped us of our means of sexual expression. As an exhibitionist, a global pandemic made getting it on in ways that excited me quite literally impossible.

Maybe it was growing up doing competitive dancing, maybe it’s just something more deep-rooted and fundamental about my personality, the point is: An audience is what turns me on, and with zero human contact other than each other, I was getting desperate for some means, any means, of sexual stimulation. Which is why a few Saturdays ago, you could find me and my husband getting ready in our cramped single bathroom for our first “date” in months, him shaving his stubble and me poking myself with eyeliner. We were going to a virtual sex club, a first for us and many others, as a result of the pandemic making in-person clubs impossible.

So, after learning about NSFW’s virtual sex parties from a Google search along the lines of “I’m so f*cking bored at home and my vagina is developing cobwebs,” I immediately requested to join the member’s only club I found. The process of joining basically consisted of answering a few questions to prove I was a real, non-creepy person. Though there are other companies that have similar events, I opted for the one with the most press and reviews (and yes, solid social media presence). While it says it can take weeks to get approval, I was accepted within a few days (hair flip). Also, in case you’re thinking of taking the ~sexual plunge,~ you can get a Traveler’s Pass which gets you into one party to test things out. Anyway, when the weekend finally arrived for my first party, the old jolt of pre-event adrenaline was pulsing through my veins. My hair was curled, my makeup was perfect, and my tits looked phenomenal—I was ready for a show.

As soon as we “entered,” 12 different squares greeted us, some screens hidden like ours and others showing singles and couples in various stages of disguise and undress. The host, Lorrae, was in a black teddy negligee, her blonde hair down and her face unhidden. Her brand is sex-positive, and with close to 270k followers on her main Instagram account, showing her face is elementary. 

Lying on our stomachs side-by-side on the bed like two kids at a sleepover, my husband and I casually clicked on each square, checking out who else was in the party. Single girls with perfect contours and sultry lighting, couples in dark rooms wearing elaborate masks, and everyday people in everyday people clothes yelling at their dogs to stop barking—all of us conspirators in sexy crime. 

Lorrae greeted each person as they entered and asked hidden guests to reveal themselves—it was a safe space, after all. (How safe, I’m still unsure. Anyone could have easily recorded the event from their phone or computer.) With a glance at my husband who smiled and shrugged, I unmuted our mic, turned on our camera, and officially entered our first virtual sex party. 

“Hi, Hungry,” Lorrae said as soon as our mask-clad faces appeared on the screen. We had selected my husband’s gamertag as our nickname because we were drunk and nervous and as he pointed out, people would think we were hungry for sex and not just junk food. “Where are you two coming from?” She asked. 

“Orlando,” I said, after a quick glance at Jon. It was a lie, but not too off-base since that’s where we went to college. I’m not sure if it was the shock of being semi-naked on-screen or a fear of my identity being immediately broadcast, but something about saying my actual location felt risky. Looking back, I would have said the truth to better connect with guests and maybe even find like-minded friends in my area. Also, people started exchanging IG handles and ya girl never likes to miss out on potential followers. 

As more and more guests arrived (a total of 40 at the time of the most attendees), the host greeted each one with her quiet, soothing voice, setting the stage for an intimate affair. 20 minutes and two drinks later, I was officially drunk and pulsating with a need for attention. So, when a casual game of truth or dare was suggested, it seemed like a no-brainer. It was an easy way to eliminate the awkwardness and say “I’m interested in you” without so many words. 

Guests took turns daring each other to take off items of clothing, dance for the camera, and do body shots off of their partner’s torsos. One couple did naked jumping jacks. Another had to do a strip show. “Hungry,” a busty brunette said, after giving an artful blowjob to a banana. “I dare your partner to spank you 10 times for the camera.” 

“Easy,” I flirted, bending over so my ass was in view of the webcam, my forearms on the bed, waiting for my husband to begin. The entire party counted as he hit me, alternating cheeks and waiting in between each one to build the suspense. With each hit I moaned, playing the eroticism up for the camera. I caught a glimpse of our bedroom highlighted as the main screen on the chat, the twinkle lights from the headboard glistening off of my hair. 

“Whew,” Lorrae breathed as I strained up and grinned at the camera after the last spank, endorphins causing my cheeks to heat up. “I don’t think we can top that, so we’re going to move into our first show of the evening…”

The main focus shifted to a man holding a whip and standing over a woman wearing a leather bodysuit and a ball-gag. While the main screen showcased a BDSM tutorial, watching the rest of the guests watch the show was oddly erotic. Some were already making out with their partners while others were pouring drinks, milling about their homes, or leaving their screens momentarily to deal with life outside of the virtual event. The voyeuristic appeal was strong as we observed others from our king-sized bed in our make-believe Orlando, Florida.

After the tutorial (which was more or less footage of a couple striking each other with various whips), Lorrae came back to ease the party into the rest of the event, the reason we were all there: the virtual orgy.

“Now,” the breathy blonde said after thanking the performers and casually noting their Venmo handles, “it’s time to break into the play portion of the evening.” 

Despite being spread out across the world, the sexual tension was palpable. The different couples excitedly glanced at each other, and singles tossed back their drinks and adjusted their hair. “I’ll be posting the links to different rooms you can attend,” the host told us. “I’m staying here in the singles room. Feel free to jump around, find a place you feel comfortable, or set up a private chat with a new friend you’ve connected with.”

I glanced at my husband in confusion before muting the mic and placing my hand over the webcam. “Private chat?” I hissed, forgetting immediately that the rest of the party couldn’t hear us. “Are people private chatting? Why didn’t anyone chat us?”

My husband, nonplussed, shrugged and poured another shot of bourbon, his face flushed and eyes glassy. “There has to be some mistake,” I slurred. “We were the best during truth or dare. People have to want to chat with us!” I frantically scanned the screen, my hand still covering the camera, as the host broke down the different rooms again. Horrified, I watched as different guests disappeared, off to their preferred new chats.

“There’s the boy’s club, for gay and curious men—or anyone looking for lots of guy action, and the ladies room for queer or curious women,” Lorrae said. “Then, of course, is the couples room, for any duos looking to make some special friends.” 

“How do I talk to people?! How do I join these rooms?” I groaned, the shots we took to limber us up causing me to completely forget how Zoom worked. I glared at the host’s smiling face and frantically clicked the different icons on my screen. 

“All of the different rooms are now available in the chat on the right, so feel free to explore, have fun, and find what feels good,” Lorrae said. My eyes immediately darted to the corner of my screen where a small number “48” was flashing above a hidden chat icon. Eagerly, I clicked. A flood of messages appeared from the group chat with callouts to us, links to the parties, and requests for private rooms.  

“You and your partner are so hot.”

“Ouch, you’ve been bad! Do you need a hand?”

“Come chat with us. We dare you…”

“Oh my god,” I said, clicking to see each of the guests who had reached out. “People like us,” I murmured, not even caring how cliché the pickup lines were. “Jon, look!” I nudged my husband who was now lying back on the bed, scrolling through Reddit on his phone. “Cool, cool,” he said, without glancing away from the snowboarding video he was watching.

“Should we talk to someone?” I asked, noting that the singles room was filled mostly with men in various stages of masturbation and women dancing and undressing for the screen. After going back and forth on what we wanted to do (me, wanting to be the center of attention and him, wanting to order food and call it a night), I clicked on a young couple who had reached out and started a private chat. We went back and forth with pleasantries—yes, it’s our first time too. No, we didn’t know what to expect either. Sure, we’d love to take this to the next level.

The rest of the night‚ which ended around 2am, was a drunken PG-13 blur. We made out for the couple, showcased some of our famous spanking, and mostly, just watched other people feel themselves on-screen. 

As a couple whose past Saturday nights usually involved takeout and falling asleep mid-movie, the concept of having sex on-screen turned the heat up on our relationship. Granted, asking my husband to attend the party with me was one of the most stressful moments of my life (it’s like proposing, but instead of asking for marriage, you’re asking them to show their genitals on camera), but after he said yes, it opened the door for communication in a way that’s been missing from our lives. It allowed us to chat about concepts we never considered before in a non-judgmental way, and having the aid of professionals, tutorials, and other people in the community there grappling with the same coronavirus-induced sex slump made it that much easier. Whether it’s isolation-induced insanity or the need for something to scratch that quarantine itch, virtual sex parties are here to stay, and I will always RSVP. 

When we woke up the next morning, we tried to process what went down over coffee and bagels. It felt like a scene out of a movie. Shot glasses littered our sticky countertop and our thoughtfully selected costumes lay in a heap on the kitchen floor. We had passed out exhausted-yet-satiated sometime between the last chat and the pizza I forgot I ordered that was covered in ants on our doorstep. Granted, we didn’t even explore the other rooms and no, we didn’t do more than a steamy makeout for the viewers—that’s for next time. Even without an on-screen orgasm, though, it was a night like no other. The next time we join the party, we plan to up the rating to something a little more NSFW.

While going to a sex club on-screen is pretty different than one IRL, it scratched the “my libido needs a jump-start” itch that coronavirus caused. No, there wasn’t the option to hook up with a stranger or use new toys, but the feelings of sexual attention, soaking up flattery from strangers, and having an excuse to drink and flirt with randoms was there, even without the physical component. Even after the pandemic (knock on wood and still stay TF home, people), virtual sex parties would be an awesome way to dip your toe into the taboo.

Images: Artem Labunsky / Unsplash; Giphy (4)

Is ‘Too Hot To Handle’ Sexist?

In the time of quarantine, one of the few things keeping us going is trashy television. That might seem dramatic, but being able to watch wannabe influencers normal people f*ck their lives up on TV is a blessing unlike any other. While the production of basically every show in the world has been placed on hold due to The Virus The Must Not Be Named, we’ve still been graced with a few gems to guide us to mindless joy. The most exciting of which is Netflix’s newest dating show, Too Hot To Handle. What’s not exciting, however, is the narration throughout the entire series. At best, it’s made me not even remotely attracted to these painfully attractive people, and at worst, it left me feeling kind of, well, sh*tty.

In case you haven’t been spending all of your free time pantless in front of the TV, allow me to explain. Too Hot To Handle is Netflix’s newest reality show with a sexless twist. Released on April 17, the premise is basically that a whole bunch of hot people who are for some reason really cocky about how often they get it in (so 2010, btw) are put on an island, given alcohol and sexually charged situations, but aren’t allowed to bang. Or kiss. Or masturbate. There’s a $100,000 prize, from which money is deducted each time a rule is broken. Keeping the group in-check (or shamed, if you will) is an Alexa-style robot named Lana who (is most likely just a producer voiced over, but who am I to be cynical in the name of reality TV love?) spies on the contestants and narcs on them when they break the rules.

It isn’t the (most likely fake) robot, the cast of characters as unoriginal as they are hot, or the tame-yet-taboo intercourse that made the show unsexy, however. It was the narration. Granted, it still a solid train wreck of a watch, and if you’re a fan of trashy reality television (guilty), some over-the-top commentary is to be expected. After filming for hours and filing down the events to mere minutes, viewers sometimes need someone to explain wtf happened in the parts they cut. While The Bachelor does it in a cheesy-yet-endearing way, Too Hot To Handle’s is snide to the point of cringe-worthy, and worst of all, it’s borderline sexist.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good diss, especially when it’s at the expense of people whose bodies I could never obtain. But between comments about the contestants’ interests, remarks concerning femininity and masculinity, and general slut-shaming, I finished the show feeling supremely unsexy, and not because I don’t have a midsection like Francesca’s. With nonstop remarks throughout the entire 10-episode season, there were times I considered muting it and just watching the sexual tension silently unfold. 

In regards to some of the female contestants, the narrator, Desiree Burch, made comments such as, “they’re talking about their favorite topic: The environment. Just kidding, sex.” Because apparently, you can’t be interested in sex and care about the environment. Or I guess if you are sexually adventurous, you don’t have the mental capacity to think past your own libido. If that isn’t detrimental enough, the narrator went on to say things like, “The girls are showcasing their personal growth by objectifying the men,” and, “What a minx. She just can’t help herself.”

These offbeat comments weren’t just targeted at the women, though. Time and time again it was indicated that men generally aren’t in touch with their emotions and that these guys are d*cks because they like getting laid. I just want to say that in 2020, no one is an asshole for liking orgasms, no matter what a weird robot who spies on you says. 

Something about it all just felt very “sneering old guy in a Trump hat telling a girl to smile.” Acting like enjoying sex takes away from your emotional, intellectual, or romantic intelligence—or that if you’re sexually adventurous and active, your urges are so strong you literally don’t have any control—is absurd. While the general concept was interesting—put hot, horny people on an island and tell them they can’t bang—the stated reasoning behind it felt very backward and as a result, was a major turn-off. 

As described in Wired, ” basically says that physical intimacy is a barrier to emotional intimacy, that liking sex is a character flaw, and that twentysomethings should get off dating apps and just settle down already.” “Chronic swipers” being put in a situation they were unaware of and then subsequently mocked for felt bad. Add to that the fact that there’s nothing wrong with having a “slut phase” (whether that’s in high school, college, or your entire life), the point seemed to be that these attractive people who like f*cking are lesser than others, just because of their preferences. Did I like watching the show when I was bored and drunk and didn’t feel like rewatching Gossip Girl? Sure. Did I feel good about the outcome, the reasoning, or the way the contestants were treated and portrayed? Not even a little bit. 

Basically, as someone whose only dream is to be cast on a reality show and immediately be shot to stardom for no reason other than appearing in 10 episodes of a Netflix special, I have to say, I was pissed. When my 15 minutes of Instagram fame finally happens, Netflix better pull this sexist stick out of its ass and not do me dirty like that.

Images: Netflix / “Too Hot To Handle”

5 Signs He’s Never Going To Commit

So you’re seeing someone. Getting yourself a little on the side. I see you. And this guy is pretty cool, right? He’s cute, he’s not too shabby in bed, he’s easy to hang out with. Checks off a lot of boxes. A few weeks pass happily enough, then a month or two goes by. Suddenly you’re wondering when this guy became your boyfriend without being your boyfriend. You’re not totally exclusive, but sleeping together semi-regularly, and in frequent contact. It’s hookup quicksand—and you find yourself considering the possibility of taking things to a more serious horizon. This is a good time to ask yourself some hard questions, if there is such a thing as a good time to emotionally torture yourself. But before you start your pro-con list, Rory Gilmore style, keep an eye out for some red flags that what you’re getting from this guy might be all he’s prepared to give.

There’s a good chance that part of what intrigued you about this guy in the first place is his unpredictability. He’s just available enough to make you feel safe, and just unavailable enough to keep you wanting more. But now, his inability to be nailed down or tell you what tf he’s doing a week from now is less exciting than it used to be. It’s hard to move forward with someone if he makes it so you can’t let go, but you also can’t get any closer. Here are some more signs that this is going to be a guy who’s always the hookup, never the boyfriend.

He Never Makes Plans That Don’t Involve Sex

He brings food over to your place, but is noncommittal when you suggest grabbing dinner out sometime. A simple question about what he has planned for the weekend can send him into a tailspin since he tends to prefer making last-minute plans. Maybe he acts like he’d be down to see a movie or grab drinks at a normal time instead of around 1am, but he never follows through. The sex in general really seems to be enough for him. He’s content with the physical connection you’re sharing and isn’t acting like an emotional one is missing.

He’s Making You Work Way Too Hard

Dating guys in their 20s is an unpaid internship

— cecilia (@waple_cyrup) November 28, 2018

This is the kind of guy who keeps you in a perpetual attention tug-of-war. For every bit of effort you put in, he puts in half as much, so it takes more of your energy and time to coordinate with him than it should. When he does respond, he’s great, but the rest of the time you’re forced to debate a dreaded triple text just to get a simple answer. Plain and simple, this just makes your pseudo-relationship easier on him. The more effort you put in, the less he has to do, and he wants to keep the balance of power in his favor.

He Gives You Just Enough To Keep You Interested, But Never Enough To Actually Rely On Him

Just when you’re ready to write him off, he’ll call you or send a sweet text, and you’re reeled right back in. It’s hard not to respond to him when he’s being charming or asking if he can stop by later, and you always seem to give him another chance to prove himself. But then you wake up and he’s gone again, even though last night he swore you guys would grab breakfast, and you’re back to square one. He never fully ghosts you, but he’s not the first person you’d call if you got a flat tire on the freeway, either. He’s not interested in being the first one you call with your problems, because then you seem less like the girl he’s just sleeping with and more like a girlfriend.

He Doesn’t Ask You About Yourself

He doesn’t text back.
He breaks promises.
He doesn’t instigate conversation or check on you.
He only messages when he needs something.

Me: pic.twitter.com/8ZvLKWcmta

— Tolly (@tolly_t) September 24, 2017

You know his siblings’ names, where he was born, and the sport he played growing up. Meanwhile, he still acts surprised when he brings over takeout and you have to remind him you’re allergic to onions. Again. He doesn’t seem to have any issue answering questions about himself, but he doesn’t really reciprocate—and if he does, he’s likely to forget what you told him the next day. The fewer personal things he knows about you, the easier it is for him to stay detached and keep things casual.

He Wants To See Zero Emotions From You

sex is cool but have you ever had someone give you so much emotional safety that you were able to break down & process trauma right in front of them without fear of being judged or ridiculed?

— Bruna, CPC & ELI-MP (@brunanessif) August 22, 2018

This is no Victoria F. on The Bachelor situation; if you cry on a date with this guy, he’ll send you home in a limo stat. He wants you to be the cool, chill girl he hooks up with, and the rest is just “drama”. When you do get emotional, even if it’s as simple as you tearing up in the scene where Warner breaks up with Elle, he’s likely to bail or put up walls without seeming to be affected by the way you’re feeling. Your emotions are really seen as complications to him that get in the way of you two having a good time together, which at the end of the day, is a bigger priority to him.

All of these characteristics don’t necessarily add up to this guy being a bad person—for the most part, you probably enjoy yourself around him, and he’s not hard to be around. And as long as the two of you are on the same page with that, it’s all good. But the key thing to remember about his actions is that they don’t indicate he’s feeling any of the necessary things that normally work to move a relationship forward. And this is a situation where actions really do speak louder than words. Especially if he’s a sweet talker, ignore what he’s saying and look at what he’s doing. If he wanted more with you, it would be pretty clear and straightforward. He’d make it easy for you to reach him; he’d make plans further in advance than one night; he’d remember the little things you tell him about yourself. (Granted, he’d still probably get freaked out by how easily you cry at commercials with dogs in them, but chances are he’d think it was endearing or at least handle it with a reaction other than panic.)

Bottom line is there’s nothing wrong with wanting more, Anastasia Steele, and there are guys out there who genuinely want to get to know all of you, even the version of you who consistently blacks out on bottomless mimosas. This particular person, on the other hand, is keeping a certain amount of emotional distance between you two. It could have nothing to do with you at all. He could have hangups from an old relationship, or just be skittish about the commitment game. That doesn’t make him a bad guy, necessarily. It just makes him a bad guy to try to turn into a boyfriend. So, be honest with yourself, and make the decision to do to him the same thing he does to you: take him as he is, at face value, or not at all.

Images: Brooke Cagle / Unsplash, Giphy; @brunanessif, @tolly_t, @waple_cyrup / Twitter

What I Learned From Going On A Sex Cleanse

Back when I suggested writing this story to my editor, I was in week three of a sex cleanse. I’ve never been a fan of cleanses because, even though they’re allegedly good for me, they always leave me feeling a little unsatisfied. Honestly, what inspired my sex cleanse is the gorgeous guy I’m seeing, who can be… difficult. Let’s just say he’s definitely given me a few reasons to walk away, but honestly, in my optimistic mind where the KY bottle is always half full, his pros outweigh his cons, which is why I always ended up back in bed with him. The problem? After the sex, like right after, I would be on cloud f*cking nine, but then the next day/week/month would come and we’d speak about as much as two neighbors on the subway do. In other words, we would not speak at all. It felt like I was back in seventh grade when my crush would ignore me…except now it felt a little worse because we aren’t 13 years old, and getting ignored by someone who was just inside you feels pretty sh*tty.

And why feel sh*tty when I could feel like Princess Margaret in the White House? If you don’t get that reference, watch The Crown, like, yesterday, but the important thing to know is that Princess Margaret lived her best life without the lure of multiple orgasms dragging her down, and I decided that’s what I needed to do. So per my sex cleanse, I would stay in and binge The Sopranos instead of venturing out into dangerous territory (aka the Upper East Side), where Monsieur Best-I’ve-Ever-Had lives. I also swore off other sources of both toxic and non-toxic d*ck.

Because I am a loyal member of Domino’s Piece of the Pie Rewards program, cleanses are obviously not really part of my lifestyle, so I was a little fuzzy on the rules, but two things I knew I needed were an expiration date and a goal. For the length of time my cleanse would last, I gave it a month, because I’m a #strongindependentwoman. And as for the goal, I wanted to prove to myself that I’m not as hooked on sex as my tall drink of water would have me believe. And to explain the science behind what I was doing, I asked author of Don’t Sleep with Him Yet clinical psychologist Dr. Nancy F. Lee, PhD to help me out.

I learned a lot from my cleanse and want to share those lessons. First and foremost, practicing willpower and just an ounce of self-control feels really good! Secondly, not doing something that feels really good for a second and really horrible for much longer (like, I don’t know, drugs?) is always a good thing. I mean, sex is cool, but have you ever made a bold decision and it ended up paying off? 

“If you find yourself regretting and/or resenting sexual encounters, which both reflect confusion and can be considered detrimental to your emotional wellbeing, by all means, do an all-out sex cleanse,” Lee says. It’s my personal opinion that unless you’re Samantha Jones, it’s impossible to not get even slightly emotionally invested in someone you’re sleeping with—especially if it happens almost on the regular. I’m not saying all women f*ck a dude a once and spend the next day writing their wedding vows, but I have never slept with the same person a few times and not started liking him at least a little bit. That’s where I’m at: I’m sleeping with this person who is annoyingly amazing in bed and I like him. As Shakespeare would say, I’m in a pickle.

In my opinion, the benefits of a sex cleanse are many, but first, you feel at least slightly more in charge of yourself. For me, that’s really important since I usually feel very much at the whim of whoever I’m dating at the time—mostly because I hardly ever click with someone who’s into me, so when I do find myself finally crushing on someone, I can’t help but hold on a little. (By the way, I’m using the term “dating” generously here.) Even though my bed felt a little lonely over the last few weeks, it was nice knowing that I was actually happy about getting a good night’s sleep in lieu of pretending that I’m REM cycling through my bedroom door slamming shut and my entire bed shifting in place when he comes back from the bathroom at 4am. Lee says, “It’s worth doing an all-out sex cleanse until you develop insight and clarity regarding what it is you truly want.” 

Most importantly, even if you’re really casual about sex and don’t limit yourself to only sleeping with people who call you their girlfriend (hi, hello), deciding you’re taking a break from something that stresses you out is never a bad thing. Even if you’re just along for the (literal) ride, sex isn’t like playing tennis in that once you’re done, you just carry on with your day and don’t think about it again. So taking a little timeout is perfectly fine and may even be good for you! Lee adds, “If, for whatever reason you and an partner simply want to take a ‘break’ from sleeping together for a while, there’s an exciting way to enjoy a whole new form of ‘sensually focused sex’ that is guaranteed to heat things up!” Like with my favorite vibrator.

Look, no cleanse is meant to last forever, so I ended mine when most people end theirs: when you need to put something of substance back in your body after a long enough time without it. Gross? Sorry, but it’s been a few weeks and all of these puns are just falling into my lap. In all seriousness, the point of a cleanse is to rid yourself (mind and/or body) of anything toxic that came its way, so when you feel like you’re back in a sound place, that’s the right time to end the cleanse. Everyone will go on different cleanses (except juice cleanses because those are a bunch of lies) for different reasons, but all of them will teach you some valuable lessons and that is the damn truth. 

Sadly, before this article went to press, yours truly was in serious need of some Vitamin D and broke the cleanse with, you guessed it, the same guy who inspired me to embark on said cleanse in the first place! Ya hate to see it. Generally, when you break your word to yourself, you don’t feel great. If you can’t even rely on yourself to keep it together, who can you rely on? But honestly, I feel better than I did before I went on the cleanse because I am going into this clear-headed as opposed to d*ckmatized. 

Even though I am clearly a weak bitch, I did learn a lot from my cleanse and would definitely recommend it to those stronger than myself. 

Images: Giphy (2); Unsplash

What To Do When Your Friend’s Boyfriend Flirts With You: Ask A Pro

Head Pro will only flirt with your friends in private, like the extremely women-respecting gentleman that he is. Email your questions for him to [email protected], and follow him on Twitter and Insta at @betchesheadpro.

Dear Head Pro,

As much as I love this column I never thought I’d have to write in to it, but here it goes. For clarification, what’s done is done, but I need to know if/how I could have handled this clusterfuck of a situation differently.

I recently handed in my notice and will be moving out of the country, so with a month left, I thought I’d fire up the swiping apps and have some fun. I ended up meeting this guy for drinks who I found myself really physically attracted to, though I knew he was just looking for a fuck buddy and took my leaving the country soon to mean I’d be down too. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it but I’ve never really thrown caution to the wind so I decided to go with it.

I first met him on a Tuesday. Flash forward to Friday and we’ve been texting all week. I get a bit drunk and so does he and we end up going back to my place and having sex. To be honest, it wasn’t mind blowing, and at one point he jokingly told me I was ‘not even an object, an inanimate object,’ but I let him stay until morning and give me massages/cuddle because why the fuck not.

After that we continued our texting through the week, though he wasn’t exactly jumping on the opportunity to see me again. Finally on Sunday afternoon he asks if he can come over and against my better judgment I say why not. When he arrives my roommates are all home and I tell him it’s too awkward, so we go for coffee where he’s simultaneously all over me yet talking about his ex gf and how hard it was to break up with her A YEAR AGO….please. Just when I’m thinking OK, it’s fine, we can just go back to my place and fuck and at least I’ll get something out of it…the crimson wave arrives. Great.

I was so awkward about it that I still brought him back, ended up just making out with him and cuddling and pretending like I just didn’t want to do anything more. When he said he had to go, I begged him to stay like some kind of psycho girlfriend (why did I do this?! I have no idea?). Unsurprisingly, after that performance he texted me saying “You’re nice and that was nice, but I don’t think we should see each other again. We’re clearly very different people looking for different things right now.”

My question: am I a total psycho for what I did having him come over for a presumed booty call and then pulling that shit? Why, if I knew this was just gonna be a fuck buddy situation, didn’t I just leave it? The entire thing is so unlike me and I feel completely mortified/confused.


Someone who needs their citizenship revoked

Lmaoooooooooo. No, I don’t think you’re psycho, but you’re not, like, not psycho? I think we sell a shirt for people like you. And not for nothing, this guy sounds like he has a whole shitton of his own issues, without the excuse of an impending move overseas. Like, what’s your excuse for calling a willing sex partner an inanimate object, fucko? And I’m sorry, if a grown man over age of, oh, 25 or so can’t get over an ex within a year, he’s fucked up. We should implement a nationwide minimum swiping age of 30. I fully expect the NRA’s support in this initiative.

Anyway, some people respond to uncertainty by clinging to routine. You, apparently, do like the COMPLETE opposite and try some shit you wouldn’t ordinarily try. I think that’s ok. Most of us would probably be better off using big life changes to try new things, provided those things aren’t black tar heroin or thinking you can pull off bangs. Really, all this ended up being was you misreading a dead-end hookup situation and biting off a little more than you could chew—what little plan you had fell apart, and you short-circuited in the moment.

I’m no doctor, but I think that’s basically it: looming uncertainty about a new chapter in life combined with the uncharted waters of the NSA hookup scene. At least you managed to kill two (or more?) birds with one stone, and have learned the perils of being a clinger.

Hey Head Pro!

A few months back, my friend starting dating a guy she met on Tinder. After a few hang outs, she invited me to meet him and I immediately received flirtatious vibes from him. The next time I saw him, about a month later, he was openly flirting with me at a party while my friend was in the other room. He kept finding ways to touch me or to make me touch him (“feel my hair, there’s like no gel in it!”). When his girlfriend (my friend!) sat on his lap, he made seriously creepy eye contact with me.

I always try to brush it off, assuming I don’t really know him and perhaps it’s just his personality, but many of my other friends have noticed him staring at me or talking to me for too long or finding a way to bring me up in conversation. We’re now at the point where everyone but his girlfriend notices his behavior.

Here’s my question: do I bring it up to her and risk losing my friend or do I try to let it go and continue to act oblivious? Better yet, should I bring it up to him? What would I say in either of these scenarios?

I’m not sure how long they’ll last, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be going anywhere any time soon.

Thanks for your help!

Flirting with Disaster

Ok first of all (and I mean no offense by this), if you’re getting flirty vibes after seeing him a month apart, I gotta assume it has a lot more to do with him than you. Like, the odds that he’s just flirting with you and not other people in that timeframe are extremely low. Unless your friend is dating a horny 13-year-old boy and is ALSO a bridge troll (who he’s dating for some reason, probably because she buys him beer), there’s no way he’s carrying a torch for you (and only you) for that long. I think you’re dealing with a standard-issue creepy person.

Regardless, no, you can’t say something. If you do, all your friend is gonna do is immediately accuse you of coming onto HIM, which is obviously untrue but people tend to trust the people they’re fucking. And don’t get grand visions of forming a united front and intervening that way, either—someone (possibly several people!) in the group likely doesn’t see his creepy advances in as poor a light as you do, and would probably defect and take her side in the argument. Oh god, that would be so much worse. Because then EVERYONE thinks you’re horny for him, and it would eventually get back to him, and then next time you see him (if you’re not ostracized from the group), he’d think he was Matt Dillon in Wild Things. “Matt Dillon in Wild Things” is how every creep ALREADY pictures himself, and you don’t wanna fuel that fire.

Instead, I would do your best to give him the benefit of the doubt and view him as one of those assholes who’s “just really friendly to everyone!” You know the type—guys who hug every female friend they have (why no love for the bros, Sir Hugs-a-Lot?), sound like politicians whenever they talk to new people (“so like, tell me your story”), and generally try to endear themselves to everyone by being insufferably, performatively nice. These guys are almost exclusively under 5’10” tall, for some reason.

If you can do that, you can practice the standard neutralizing tactics practiced by quasi-introverts like myself. Avoidance is the general rule; specifically no touching. His cringeworthy “touch my hair” bit is actually perfect, because you can dodge it without looking like a dick (unlike, say, a hug). Just be like “cool, yeah, I can tell” and refuse to play along further. Those people HATE when they can’t dictate the terms, and will usually lose interest if they feel they don’t have you under their spell anymore.

Also, figure out a way to get your friend to stop sitting on his fucking lap in public. This is a group outing, for chrissakes.

Head Pro will only flirt with your friends in private, like the extremely women-respecting gentleman that he is. Email your questions for him to [email protected], and follow him on Twitter and Insta at @betchesheadpro.
Images: Shutterstock; Giphy (2)

15 Signs You’re Dating A Fuckboy

Fuckboys are not always easy to spot in the wild, given their highly adaptive nature and ability to blend in. Any betch that’s been through the Amazon jungle of dating knows that meeting a fuckboy now is like finding a Rattata in the original Gameboy Pokemon—it’s common AF but you always hope it’s something better. The key to getting rid of the fuckboys in your life is to know how to identify early signs of fuckboyism before you get too attached. Here are some telltale signs the guy you’re dating is a fuckboy you should def ditch.

1. He asks you to hang out but doesn’t text you to follow up, and when you ask if you’re still on he’s just like, “sure where should I meet you”.

2. He says things like, “we should hang” but never initiates an actual date.

3. He says things like, “let me know when you’re free” rather than proposing an actual time and place.

4. When you ask him if he’s seeing anyone else, he avoids answering and says something like, “you don’t have to worry about that”

5. He uses phrases like, “keep me posted” and, “let’s stay in touch” when you invite him to come out instead of just giving you a straight answer.

6. His friends don’t seem to know who you are, which means chances are slim he’s raving about you to them.

7. Or his friends all know who you are but act like they know something you don’t because they do: They know he’s seeing other people.

8. He’ll disappear for days without you hearing from him, and when he finally resurfaces he offers no explanation, like it’s perfectly normal.

9. When you ask him what’s up, he over-explains why he’s been so busy and offers specific details like, “hey! just been super busy with this work presentation and my cousin’s in town and also my dog is sick so I haven’t been sleeping what’s up with you?” which really translates to, “please don’t ask me to hang out.”

10. When other guys flirt with you in front of him he seems totally unfazed, not in a chill, do-whatever-you-want-because-I’m-a-feminist way, but in the honestly-could-not-care-less-about-you way.

11. When you run into other girls when you’re out, he definitely doesn’t introduce you as his girlfriend, and sometimes doesn’t introduce you at all.

12. He’s always texting other people when you’re together, and they’re def not all bros.

13. He shadily will not respond to you during prime date hours of 7-11pm, because he’s obvs on other dates.

14. His friends avoid direct eye contact with you when there’s other girls flirting with him, and more than likely some of them are also hooking up with him.

15. He’s never initiated taking a picture with you, and he’s never posted one of you guys hanging out on his social media.

If you spot, like, more than three of these behaviors, it’s time to reevaluate your life and your choices (not to mention your relationship). For more dating advice, buy our new book, I Had A Nice Time And Other Lies, and stop falling for fuckboys.

Images: Elsa Donald on Unsplash; Giphy (18)

What Guys Think About The Number Of People You’ve Had Sex With

Hi everyone! I’m a straight dude who The Betches feel is probably a lot like the guy you’re texting/hooking up with. So they’ve been asking me questions in search of straightforward, honest answers that the guy you’re seeing probably won’t be able to give. I’ve broken down the dating apps, one piece bathing suits, and job titles. So grab that phone, go take a poop (don’t worry, I won’t tell) and enjoy The Betches’ next question of the male mind…

What guys think of the # of guys you’ve slept with: I was thinking you could break this up into number ranges. Like, 0, 1-5, 5-10, etc.

This one is difficult. Because it’s kind of an old question. I’m over here licking butt (@jaredfreid on Instagram, ladies…) so who am I to judge some girl’s number? It’s old because our parents can’t really advise us. The average age at first marriage in the United States has risen by like, four years in the past two decades. That means people are getting married four years later than they did in 1997. That’s a big gap our parents never had to deal with. Were we supposed to not have sex those four years? Were we supposed to ignore the fact that sex is everywhere? Were we supposed to not notice how awesome butts have gotten?! So, while you might not be able to rationalize the number to your high school sweetheart parents, don’t assume that’s the same for a guy.

One more thing before a women’s march erupts over virgin shaming or slut shaming or whatever. Guys only really care about a girl’s number as much as she cares. So if you’re a girl who’s been with one guy and that makes you self-conscious, then we’re going to be self-conscious with you. If you’ve been with 100 guys and get angry when that’s revealed and a guy asks a few questions, then we’re going to assume that there’s more upsetting you than just the number. It’s kind of like licking a butt (which I’ve done on occasion after first drinks @jaredfreid)—if you’re ok with it, we’re generally happy that you’re happy.


Ah, the virgin. Our feelings about virgins have a lot to do with the male ego. Which is pretty huge, considering many men go out on a Saturday night wearing cargos and expect to get laid. There are many rational reasons for you to be a virgin. You dated a guy for a long time expecting him to be the first, you broke up before it could happen, and you weren’t just going to waste it on another guy who smelled like fireball and called you dude. Now you’re just waiting on someone to give any form of commitment to swipe that v-card and that’s asking way more than anyone could have expected during this hookup era we’re all living in. Even given that pretty rational scenario, every guy thinks that having sex with you is a contractual obligation to be the love of your life. Our moms told us we looked nice in a suit and now we’re going to think you’ll be looking into your future husband’s eyes thinking, “If only that guy who had sex through the pee hole in his underwear would have committed.” This isn’t fair. But girls get to wear dresses to work in the summer. We all have our things.



There’s an ex-boyfriend that you can’t really get away from. That may be his fault, or your fault, or maybe a combination of both of your faults (most likely). But this guy is the reason you’re half-living your twenties. He’s a distraction. Sure, you’ve been with other guys, but those happened via some sort of stroke of luck. Usually you’re at the bar, face in your phone, wondering why “Ben keeps texting.” Well, Ben is afraid of being alone, too. So he keeps going back to someone who half-makes-him-happy so that he doesn’t have to get turned down by someone who might fully make him happy. You guys are a lot alike, which is why you keep coming back to one another. If a guy hears the numbers 1-5 we know there’s still someone else and he’s stuck to you like gum on a sneaker.

Carrie And Big


I call this the PR range. Like, if a girl got up at a podium and gave a press conference about herself and a male reporter stood up asking about her numbers and her answer was eight, all the reporters would move on. No further questions. They’d all turn to one another and give a nod of agreement that you had a bachelor’s degree in sexual experience. You’ve blown a guy, you’ve had good sex, you’ve had bad sex, you’ve smelled some things. A girls in this range isn’t preferable to the other girls, there’s just less questions.

Not Bad


There’s a point in every relationship where the guy looks at the girl and asks, “Ever thought of doing something new?” And she says, “Sometimes.” And they go back and forth not telling each other what’s really on their minds and they end up having missionary again. Every guys wants to lose a little bit of control in the bedroom and that’s the fun part about the 10-20 girl. We assume she’s coming in with “user settings.” She’s an iPhone with the brightness set specifically and the apps organized to her liking and she knows exactly what will turn her on and off. This is comforting to guys. We sadly ask if we made you cum because we want to be the one who made you climax. This girl knows the password and isn’t afraid to give cheat codes.

Raven Bachelor


Every guy wants a virgin who’s good with her tongue, and guess what? That doesn’t exist. If you’re in this range, no guy honestly cares. He’s happy for the same reason the guy dating the 10-20 girl is happy—you probably have taste and predilections and that direction is comforting. Just don’t get weird when we ask why you recognized three different guys who looked exactly alike at brunch. Be open, own it, and I’m sure he’ll believe you when you say he looks better than them in a suit.


Read: What Guys Think Of You Based On Your Job Title
How To Avoid Catching Feelings For The Fuckboy You’re Hooking Up With

Summer is pretty much over, according to my lack of summer bod, and that means cuffing season is in full effect, which also means that the only thing worse than potentially catching the fucking plague or whatever other life-altering virus planet Earth will soon undoubtedly dig up this year, is catching the feelings bug *chills sent down spine*.

There’s nothing worse than realizing you’re well into a new season and you’ve wasted an entire summer hooking up with the same fuckwad for four months straight. Sure, you were on a steady diet of accessible dick, you scored a date to a baseball game that one time and you had someone to drunk text every weekend, but other than that, you’ve gained nothing but harbored feelings and maybe three pounds of water weight from masking your stress with vodka. Catching feelings is great for emotionally stable people who actually want to catch feelings, but just because you’re hooking up with someone doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to develop feelings. Like, I’d love to save my second marriage for wealth, but that doesn’t always mean it’s a good idea. So if you’re going to avoid catching anything from a fuckboy who was only meant to be a hookup, let it first be chlamydia, but mostly, avoid catching feelings at all costs. So here’s exactly what you need to do in order to not receive a text message at the end of winter saying, “I just don’t know what I want right now.”

Daniel Radcliffe

1. Be Really Picky

Aka what I’m saying is to go against everything your mom told you not to do when dating because for one, this isn’t dating. And for two, Karen grew up during simpler times when “sliding” was a physical act of maneuvering down a giant play toy, and not a virtual thirst trap. Bitch.


This is the part where it’s socially acceptable to use his flaws as a means of distracting yourself from developing feelings, gag. Stick with your list of usual batshit unrealistic requirements and “hard no’s”, but maybe tack on a few physical things that completely irk you, like his abnormally hairy toes, or idk the way he drenches his body in Axe body spray like it’s insect repellent.

2. Have (Multiple) Backups

Let’s just get one thing straight: If you haven’t had the exclusive talk yet, *spoiler alert* you’re single. When committing to a hookup, you need solid reinforcements. Think of it like a sports roster. When you’re certain one player’s about to fuck up after three strikes, he becomes benched and the next best thing takes his place without any hesitation. This way, if Chad is taking 12 fucking years to text you back, it won’t even phase you because you’ll be too busy staging the perfect half-nude selfie for Dean. And say Alex decides to suddenly ghost you, you’ll have already run out of fucks to give because Jared’s on his way over as we speak.

Bring On The Penises

3. Don’t Spend All Your Time Together

What were you doing with your weekends before you met this guy? Probably strategizing the best ways to day drink without napping and/or screaming at Netflix that YES YOU ARE STILL WATCHING, THX. One thing you weren’t doing was sitting at home waiting for a call, so don’t rely on him. If you really want to test out if absence actually does make the heart grow fonder, try actually being absent and watch yourself give less shits by the hour. Spending all your time with someone will just build up feelings, which scores you a one-way ticket into boyfriend territory. You’re better than that. Take up a hobby or something if you’re really that bored. 


4. Put Down The Phone

This is just as bad, if not worse than hanging out IRL. When we’re feeling drunk brave, we tend to say things we wouldn’t normally say in person, meaning that it’s so much easier to go stage-five psycho on his ass and interrogate him on who that girl was in his Snapchat, all while sitting behind a screen rather than in person. Speaking of which, stay off his social media page. Better yet, don’t even friend him until he requests to friend you first. He’s not your ex. You’ll drive yourself into a psych ward when you use his entire social media presence as a test to see if he’s actually telling the truth regarding his whereabouts. And so help me god, if you give out heart-eye emojis or your slutty bitmoji more than drunk Instagram likes, you’re just asking to get swerved.

Text Back

5. Don’t Take Up All His Interests

Not to brag, but I have an uncanny ability to know every detail down to a guy’s favorite football team, his weird obsession with Aerosmith, and his awful choice in beer. I’m not saying it’s a gift, but like, I kinda am. Just because I know what he likes doesn’t mean I’m going to waste my time memorizing the starting lineup of his precious Raiders. Girls who take up the same interests as a guy are “nice” and nobody wants to be the nice girl who’s walked all over. If you find yourself trying to change something about you so that he may like you more, pop a Xanny and think about this: What will happen when you eventually call it quits? You’re stuck with overpriced sports memorabilia you’ll end up lighting on fire donating to Good Will, and you spent what could’ve been drinking money on concert tickets to see some fossil named Bob Seger.

Karen Smith

6. Avoid Telling Him Your Life Story

Save your best friend drama and how your parents’ divorce is the reason for your emotional unavailability for your fucking therapist. And since I’m assuming you don’t have a therapist since you’re currently reading an article on how to avoid any and all contact with your inner emotions, you probably should get a therapist. The more invested in each other’s lives you are, the more communication you have, and the more communication you have, the more of a connection there is, and the more fucked you’ll be when he decides to throw out the, “I don’t mind if you see other people” curve ball. Consider this your fair warning.

Glass Case Of Emotion

Read: How To Go From Booty Call To Bae Without Freaking Him Out