Is he remotely manly?

Size is no longer the ultimate measure of manliness.

I’ve discovered a fool-proof way of determining how much of a man you’ve got on your hands.

Next time you step into his place, count the number of remotes he owns.

The more remotes, the more of a man he’s likely to be.

There’s one for the television, one for the DVD player, one for the surround sound system, one for the Xbox, one for the (insert name of a second game console of choice. Good bets are Wii or PS3).

There’s also probably at least one lying around from something he used to own but got rid of a year ago, and another with a use that befuddles even him. He probably keeps it with all the useful ones to give himself a manlier appearance.

And that’s the point, I think. You come over and, while he’s getting you a beer, try to accomplish the simple task of watching television.

Next thing you know, you’re rendered helpless by his entourage of controllers and calling his name for assistance.

That’s when he sweeps in to the rescue – double fisting remotes and clicking buttons here and there as you watch in admiration at his technological savvy.

I think real men take pride in their confusing system of controllers and the fact that only they can utilize them with any success. I, on the other hand, end up throwing one of the many remotes across the room in frustration.

Ultimately, if you can figure out how to turn on his TV set, change the component to satellite, change the channel and adjust the volume – all on your own – consider it an assessment, not of your smarts, but of his manliness.

Because real men never cease to confuse you – even when it comes to their appliances. That’s the way it was meant to be.

'Hi, I’d like a tattoo that will make every man I meet go completely flaccid'

I had dinner with a friend Thursday night who told me a great story that I felt compelled to share with you.

As we savored Coronas and cheese dip, she began to tell me of a family friend who had been dating a man for several years. The man recently died in a motorcycle accident, and my friend’s relatives attended the wake to show their sympathy.

They quickly found that the abandoned girlfriend needed sympathy for more than one reason.

In the brief period between her beau’s death and his wake, she had decided the best way to mourn his tragic passing was to get a tattoo in memory of him.

A gigantic tattoo.

Across her entire back.

Of his face.

As icing on the cake, she scrawled the words, “I Will Love You Forever” below his image.

Now, we all understand grief. But my friend and I were intrigued by the sexual repercussions of her eternal memorial, and the possibilities this girl’s future love life holds.

“What happens when the next guy she’s with has sex with her doggie-style, and he looks up to see the Ghost of Christmas Past staring back at him?” my friend queried. “Is that not, like, instant ED?”

And she would know.

Her boyfriend has five tattoos, the majority of which reside squarely on his bum.

His philosophy, she says, is that he should get something incredibly tacky, stat.

“I know I’ll eventually regret one of them anyway. I might as well go ahead and get it over with, so I can say, ‘Wow. I really regret that,’ and move on,” is his mantra, she says.

This, coming from a guy who has Tigger (yes, the Winnie the Pooh character) inked on his ass, and who has seriously considered procuring a permanent representation of the “Ice Age” squirrel on his inner thigh, fervently reaching for his nuts.

As funny as it would be, I’m thinking that might be a Grade A, regrettable tatt.

Perhaps not as regrettable, however, as a freakishly accurate, life-sized, full-back portrait of your dead ex.

The moral of the story is that nothing’s permanent – boyfriends, marriages, life – except the ink you just injected into your skin.

So you may want to rethink getting his initials inside a heart on your ass cheek. It’ll be a guaranteed mood-killer with your next partner.

If you've been hit with the fugly stick...

"Pretty people have it easy, whether they want to admit or not," my friend Phillip recently wrote on his blog.

Yes, life sucks if you're unattractive. It's no secret that it's harder to get out of a speeding ticket or convince an employer to hire you if you've been hit by the ugly stick. Not to mention getting someone from the opposite sex to listen to what you have to say.

But it's not always a party for the pretty kids, either.

I've seen many a personal ad from guys pleading for someone to appreciate them for more than their really, really ridiculously good-looking selves.

"Girls only ever want me for my body," one poor soul lamented on Craigslist.

My, it must be an uphill battle for those who are physically blessed.

But whether hot or not, we all are obsessed with our looks and the idea that our futures depend on them.

We MUST know -- we NEED to know -- whether we are considered attractive, because it assuredly determines what kind of a life lies ahead of us!

Just check out the hundreds of people who pony up their photos for public criticism on HotorNot.com. They can't rest until they know if the world approves ... or recoils.

But there are, in fact, things WORSE than being ugly.

You might be bugly (butt ugly)

or fugly (fat and ugly)

or even pugly (poor and ugly).

And you had best count your blessings if you aren't dugly (dog ugly).

If you be so unlucky, however, at least you can take comfort in the fact that you've been informed. Now you can brace yourself for the disappointing and lonely life that's likely ahead of you as a member of the dugly club.

You might want to hit up that hot guy on Craigslist, though. Tell him you'll appreciate more than his body if he'll appreciate everything but yours.

Good enough for me

Lauren: “I think that everyone can change if the right person comes along, and I think that every girl wants to be that person. Every girl wants to be the one girl that can change that guy.”

Lo: “But why do you have to have a guy that you have to change? Don’t you want to meet someone who’s good already?”

Well, that’s the idea – to find someone who’s already a good guy. But it doesn’t always work like that, does it?

What the girls from The Hills failed to mention is that good is rarely good enough. When we finally settle down and decide to marry someone, that’s us saying, "Hey. You’re good enough."

But nobody likes to settle, so when you find someone who has some qualities you like or admire, it’s only natural to try to elicit some others that he's lacking. Every possible beau requires you to weight the pros and cons: he’s got these things going for him, but he’s missing those.

It makes sense that we’d want to tip the scale a bit in a good guy’s favor. That’s why we never stop hoping we can squeeze some more potential out of him.

And I agree with Lauren – it’s a kind of fantastical thought to change a bad boy into a good one. To tame the wild child, if you will. But it is usually just that – a fantasy. The kind of thing country songs are made of.

Don’t get me wrong – people can change. But they have to want to change, and many times the things we hope to alter are too intimately connected to who they are.

You want him to be more frugal with his money, but you love his generous nature.

You want him to be more mature, but you love his silly sense of humor.

You keep hoping he’ll call you when he says he will, but…

wait, he should definitely change that!

The point is, some things about a person aren’t going to change. If you can’t see yourself dealing with those things if they don't change, you’ll have to accept defeat and move on.

Because a healthy relationship means losing the battle.

It means seeing a person for everything he is – the parts you love and the parts you wish you could change – and just accepting him.

It means saying, “You’re more than good enough.”

Dirty Dancing, Indeed

To my deep regret, I stopped into The Loft Friday night.

The spot I once enjoyed (at an earlier time in my life) now offers little more than a sweaty mass of horny freshmen, and no space to move or stand or breathe.

I went to meet up with a group of old high school friends and agreed to dance with one of them, only to discover that dancing with a guy can tell you everything you need to know about what he'll be like in bed.

It's no secret that the dancing we do downtown is just simulated sex, anyway. Like a less-than-complicated mating ritual, we can decide on the spot whether or not it's worth our wild to go home with a guy ... or duck out after one dance.

Because there are no secrets on the dance floor.

We can weed out the assholes and the virgins and the gay guys.

If he's thrusting his crotch around in a lost and confused manner, or if he seems in awe of the fact that a girl is actually willing to rub her ass against his groin for an extended period of time, you've probaby got yourself a grade A virgin.

If he's pounding you mercilessly with his denim cock (to quote Dane Cook) as if he was already doing the deed, he's probably the kind of guy who'd finish in two minutes and then get up and leave, without nary a thought to satisfying your needs.

Because if he doesn't care about your comfort and pleasure on the dance floor, he's going to care even less in bed.

The guy you want is smooth -- he wants to make you comfortable and happy, not get off inside his pants.

His dance style is gentle but firm, and he knows how to put the moves on you without violating your space.

My friend was not this guy.

His dance style -- which amounted to beating me with his crotch -- told me he was both a virgin and a two minute man.

I soon turned tail and moved on in search of better mate material, a little sorer than before.

A word about the mustache

If you are below the age of 40 – nay, 55 – you should NOT have a mustache.

It’s very simple – they are creepy.

I kissed a guy with a ‘tache (against my better judgment) this summer. That was creepier.

You should not have a mustache because they make you look older, but not in a good way.

They make you look like the 37-year-old who left his double wide for the night to crash a college party and eyeball the 18-year-old freshmen girls.

You might be the nicest guy on the planet, but the ladies won’t know it. They will avoid you like the plague.

If you have been told that your facial hair is the best thing to ever happen to your face, you either:

a) were told this by your guy friends (who are probably incapable of growing their own), or

b) are really ugly, and people are glad to see less of your face.

Almost no guy can pull off the mustache, and I say “almost” for reason and one reason only.

Sean Connery.
He is the only man I can think of whose face is actually enhanced by the ‘tache.

But I promise you will not look like Sean Connery.

You will look like Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. Good luck with that.

Is marriage the new dating?

“I think marriage is the new dating and having kids is the new marriage.”

This is the proclamation made by one free-as-a-bird 21st Century woman in the new issue of Marie Claire magazine.

The article, appropriately called “The Starter Husband,” examines an issue gaining attention in the media, literary and entertainment world -- a nonchalant attitude toward an increasing number of drive-through marriages.

It’s turned up in books, such as “The Starter Marriage” by Kate Harrison and “Not Your Mother’s Divorce: A Practical, Girlfriend-to-Girlfriend Guide to Surviving the End of a Young Marriage” by Kay Moffit.

It even garnered a mini series this summer –- “The Starter Wife" -– starring Debra Messing.

But this article talks to real women behind the phenomenon -– those who have jumped in and out of matrimony, changing husbands like they change their sheets.

Marriage the new dating? It’s a bold statement. A scary one, even. But when you look at today's culture, it makes sense.

We live in a throw-away society, always trading in what we have for an upgraded version. Our televisions and cell phones are perfectly fine, but we want high-def and an iPhone.

We want things until we don’t want them anymore. Why should our spouses be any different?

Many of us have watched our parents split up, too. This can make some who were products of divorces more cautious about choosing a partner in the future, but it also plants a subconscious seed that the option (divorce) is always there. That there’s always a way out.

A few of the women interviewed in the article said they got caught up in planning the wedding instead of planning the marriage. Some, nearing the big 3-0, caved to pressure from family. One said the man she married looked great on paper -– she’d have been crazy NOT to marry the guy.

Most realized they had made a mistake within months of saying “I Do.”

But is that how we should view a commitment to have and to hold ‘til death do us part? As a “mistake” that can be corrected with a phone call to a lawyer?

If this is what’s happening to the 25-30 crowd, I wonder what will happen to Gen Y as we reach the age to start pairing off.

We were pampered and coddled by our parents. They told us we were smart and that we could do anything, go anywhere and be anything. We are accustomed to kicking ass and taking names and getting what we want, when we want it. How will this mentality affect our perspective in a union?

Additionally, I wonder if our "have it now" generation can even fathom the concept of staying commited to someone –- or anything –- for a lifetime.

Our grandparents and even some of our parents held the same jobs or worked for the same companies for decades, maybe even their entire lives. But the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics show workers today average eight jobs before they turn 32.

Do we have any loyalties? Or will we, too, change our spouses, jobs and identities as we grow up?

I hope this isn’t the case. I hope that marriage can still mean something in society today –- that the high divorce rate and the bleak statistics on separating couples don’t disillusion us into the belief that matrimony is no big deal.

When the day arrives for you to say "I Do," I hope you won't be thinking that you can have a do-over.

Everyone loves a happy uterus

The price of safe sex has gone up.

Last week, the Red&Black reported that the price of discounted birth control pills through the University Health Center has risen and will continue to rise due to changes in the federal budget.

I found this out myself when I renewed my prescription last Thursday and paid $17 per pack instead of $14. This is the current rate for Ortho Tri Cyclen Lo without insurance coverage.

That translates to an extra $36 per year -- enough to buy a new pair of Rainbow sandals (currently on sale at Charbon's for about that price!)

Luckily, this is still a discounted rate, but as the price rises, it may discourage girls from purchasing the pills in the future.

And this is a shame, since birth control is one of the best forms of preventing unwanted pregnancy out there.

To draw on Dane Cook, there's no "ha ha" here.

More expensive pills mean more girls without protection.

In the future, young women who are forced to weigh the benefits of birth control against a higher price may start thinking, "I won't be having sex THAT often," or "I don't have THAT much sex."

They'll start deciding that if they only have sex two or three times a month (that's already paying $6 per encounter -- enough to buy an entire box of condoms) that the cost won't be worth it.

There's nothing wrong with condoms, of course, when they're used correctly. But we can already see how well they worked in "Knocked Up."

Ok, not the best example, but all the guys and gals who engage in hook-up culture after drinking downtown are more likely to forget to use a condom at all or be in no state of mind to put it on properly.

Guys should be concerned, because this affects them, too.

If fewer young women are on the pill, it places more responsibility on the male to take measures to prevent pregnancy.

Some guys out there assume they don't need to provide condoms when they hook up with a girl because "she's on the pill." Some even assume most girls are on the pill, and go around spreading their seeds without a care.

No more, if the price of having safe sex rises. Responsible guys will have to provide condoms or pitch in to help their girlfriends carry the financial burden of protection.

Unfortunately, the bottom line is that birth control is a preventative measure, which makes paying for it like paying for insurance.

Everybody hates paying insurance because, if nothing happens to you, it feels like a waste of money. But when something does happen, that cost seems a small price to pay.

If that something is a bun in your oven, compare more than $250,000 (the average cost of raising a child, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture) to $36.

Those new Rainbows aren't looking so hot anymore.

So, promiscuous ladies, suppress your frugal tendencies and shell out for the pills. Your wallet might feel the crunch, but your uterus will be happy.

And everyone loves a happy uterus.

Debunking the Theory of "The One"

A few years ago, I bought a book called "Is He The One? 101 Questions That Will Lead You to the Truth, Whatever That Is."

Each page has a question a woman supposedly should ask herself to determine whether or not her guy is, in fact, the "One."

It mostly asks obvious stuff that people ponder subconsciously anyway, like:

- "How does he treat his mother?"
-"Does he make you laugh?"
-"Does his plan for children match yours?"

According to Amazon, customers who bought this book also bought "How to Avoid Marrying a Jerk" and "How Can You Tell If You're Really In
Love?"

Basically, really confused people. The kind of people who turn to Dr. Phil for advice.

Unfortunately, "Is He the One?" probably won’t help these people any more than Dr. Phil would. It can help you pinpoint things you like and don't like about a guy, but it won't tell you if he's the "One,” because there's no formula for that.

Let's say he receives positive answers for 60 percent of the 101 questions.
Does THAT mean he's the “One”?

Or should he have received a higher score, like 87 percent? Would THAT score make him the “One”?

And what about 100 percent? If you have good things to say about him for all the questions presented in this book, does THAT mean you should commit your life to this guy forever?

This is why the book doesn't work. Because after you've answered all the questions, you're left with the same glaring question you started with:
Is he the “One”?

And that's only a valid question if you believe there IS such a thing as the “One."

People who believe this theory likely believe in fate or destiny or God's will. That whomever we end up with isn't a choice, but rather, that he or she is pre-destined to be our compatible companion in life.

But there are over 6.6 Billion (with a capital B) people on this planet.

Does it even make sense to think that only one person is capable of making us happy?

I rejected this theory a while ago because following it can cause serious anxiety issues.

No matter who you're with, you'll always be asking yourself if he is that ONE special person out of all the other choices.
Sure, he makes you happy -- but does he make you happy ENOUGH? Or is the elusive "One" still out there who could make you happier?

This kind of thinking only perpetuates a “grass is greener on the other side” mentality. You’ll never be satisfied with what you’ve got while wondering what you’re missing.

The alternative is to believe that there are multiple people with whom you are compatible, and that you could be happy with any one of them. That the person you spend your life with is a matter of settling.

Not quite as romantic, I know, but reasonable.

In this way, when you meet someone who makes you happy and with whom you can see yourself sharing a lifetime, there is no reason NOT to marry that person over the other options. Basically, you acknowledge that others exist who could make you happy, but not necessarily happier than the person you've chosen.

Even this thinking, though, leaves you asking questions. Because in the end, you weren't really wondering if your boyfriend was the "One" -- you were wondering, "Should I marry him?"

And no matter where you turn, be it a book or God or your belief that the "One" for you is out there, no one can answer that question except you.

Just to be safe, though, you might want to read "How to Avoid Marrying a Jerk" before making a decision.

The new and improved SEX ED

Sex ed sucks.

That’s nothing new. It’s all ovary and testicle talk, and it’s delivered to us at a time when we still believe in cooties.

What’s more, do you recall ever once hearing the word “orgasm” in your sex ed classes?

And they call THAT a sexual education?!

In my experience, however, it’s become clear that some people should be made to take a second sex ed course once they actually begin HAVING sex. Perhaps one with more relevance.

I propose a mandatory class on sexual etiquette, since some men and women don’t seem capable of practicing such fundamentals as respecting the people around them once their hormones kick into gear.

The rules differ slightly, depending on where you plan your encounter, but there are rules nonetheless. Any time some person other than your partner has to see or hear or think about you having sex (against their will), it’s only fair to take their feelings into consideration.

So here are some lessons from the new and improved sex et. ed course, which I call
“Well, F*ck Me: A Beginner’s Guide to Getting It On Without Pissing Others Off.”

Chapter 3: Location, location, location

Part I. The Dorm Room

Having sex in a dorm room can be uncomfortable to begin with, but there are many obstacles to overcome if you hope to stay friends with your roommate and hall mates for the remainder of the year.

Number one: you should never have sex when your roommate is in the room. Some would argue that it can be done in the top/bottom bunk if the roommate can reasonably be considered to be asleep, but I disagree.

* First, your roommate would have to be practically comatose to be capable of blocking out your whispering/giggling/heavy breathing/squeaking of the lousy bunk springs under the weight of two people –- two people vigorously squirming around, no less.

* Second, you open the door for your roommate to do the same to you. Let’s see how happy you are when you have an 8 a.m. test the next morning and you’re trying to block mental images while listening to her and her stoner boyfriend wreathing all night.

* Third, for the sake of being polite, I argue that boyfriends should not sleep over at all, regardless of deed-doing, while the roommate is present.
There’s nothing worse than trying to fall asleep while listening to kissing noises and lovey-dovey whispers above/below/around you.

So if you have no other locale to which you can move your love-making session, talk to your roommate about the possibility of her spending the night elsewhere. Or, ask for her class schedule so you can use the room while she’s gone.

Lastly, DO use a system to let her know if you are in the room getting some love -– write a code word on your message board or dig out that scrunchie from 5th grade to put on the door knob. ANYTHING to save her from walking in on you while you’re bumping uglies. Otherwise, you can look forward to a pretty awkward year.

…And yes, the communal futon is OFF LIMITS.

But I know you’ll do it anyway thinking no one will figure it out.

They will.

Part II. The apartment

You think that since you have your own room, you can do whatever you want in it.

But this is only partly true, considering you have a peer on the other side of a very thin wall. I guarantee she doesn’t want to hear you moaning, or even your bed squeaking. (This may be a different story for guy roomies.)

But since you have your own space, this problem can be easily fixed. The simplest thing to do is to turn on some music to a volume just loud enough to cover evidence of your activities.
An even better scenario: take advantage when your roommates aren't at home. Then you can scream your lungs out.

But there are complications to the arrangement, too, if you share a bathroom. Guys should not walk through the hall to the bathroom naked. Your roommate either won’t want to accidentally see that, or (if she does) you won’t want her to see that.

Also, no sex in a shared shower. Ew.

But again, you’ll do it anyway. Just remember, every time you think you’re being sneaky, your roommate is doing the same thing.

Part III. The parents’ house

Some people have truly mastered getting action around the ‘rents. One guy I know received a happy ending on Easter Sunday while his family was in the next room.

But you should start slowly.

Basically, parents don’t want to hear or see you having sex any more than you want to hear or see them having sex.

You can do it quietly, turn on music or go out to the treehouse in the backyard.

No matter what you do, they’ll probably know what you’re doing, so hiding the FACT isn’t the issue, it’s just saving them the disturbance of having to actually ACCEPT the fact.

And I know you were thinking it, but your parents’ bed is OFF LIMITS.

But who are we kidding? You already did it.

Part IV. The Hotel Room

Pretty much anything goes in a hotel room.

You don’t have to wash the sheets or worry about ever again seeing the people unfortunate enough to be resting on the other side of the wall behind your headboard.

The only rule here is to be as loud and crazy as possible without your neighbors calling the front desk to complain.
And even if security knocks on your door about the noise, we both know you’ll just be proud of it later.

Hotel rooms rock.