Dear Tuffy Luv,

Hey tuffy! I send this to Ryan, but i’m not sure on what’s his status whether he still gives advice or not, so just to be sure since this is driving me nuts i’ll send it to you!

Here’s my prob!

There’s this guy i initially met during training at work who instantly I knew was attracted to me by the little things he did (constantly looking, his friends trying to bring up his name in a conversation/leaving us when we’re together..blah blah blah). After a month or so, the feelings became mutual and our occasional waves when we saw each other turned into him walking me to my car after work, us exchanging numbers (which resulted into convos that lasted in the the early AM), sitting together at breaks, and texting non-stop as well as him telling me personal things about himself.

It’s to the point where everyone think’s we’re together. I kept wondering why he hadn’t asked me out yet, and then finally had to ask the question if he had a girlfriend. With my luck, the answer was ‘Yes’. I found it incredibly odd because he would never mention her, even after he gave me my answer it was almost like she was invisible. Instantly I said to myself I would only keep our conversations at a friendly level, thinking it would get easier since I switched shifts and would not see him as often. I even went as far to tell him that I would not be calling him because I found it disrespectful to call another woman’s boyfriend. Read More »

Sometimes you fall in love. And sometimes you get your heart broken because you fell in love.

You recollect the pieces of yourself that the relationship scattered all over and eventually, you become stronger and you move on. You start to like other guys and you begin to wonder what it was that possessed you to the point of tears over ‘that’ guy before…

He treated you like crap.
He made you cry.
He was the one always screwing up and then the whole thing finally ended — exploding, despite your efforts to make it work.

You get over it.

And then he comes back. Read More »

I know a lot of people who are terrified of sex. I can’t entirely blame them, really. For something that’s one of the most intimate and natural things you could ever do, it’s instinctively just scary for a lot of people. You don’t know what’s going to happen, how it’s going to happen, where it’s going to happen…all of those important things tend to just kind of linger in the air.

But after your first time, you’re usually set in your beliefs: it’s either the best thing ever, okay, or entirely underrated. For me, well, I have no problem with it. It’s fun. It feels good. It can get you into loads of trouble, of course, but all-in-all, I’ve got no real valid complaints. And I suppose that’s a strange conclusion to come to, considering the first time I had sex, I didn’t want to. Read More »

Whore.

I used that word liberally until people starting calling me that. And they’ve used it on me a lot.

I was able to train myself to treat it like any other word, like it wasn’t dripping with spite. Now it no longer affects me, though there was a point in time during which I could have named every single person who had ever used that word on me.

Only women have called me a whore.

Whores aren’t raised. There was nothing that my mother, who was unwavering in her aspiration that my hymen would remain intact until my wedding night, did that made me approach sex so callously. When I was a child, I hated being needlessly touched – poking, tickling, even hugs – and I know that my mother found some solace in that, hoping that it would hold over into my adolescence and adulthood.

It did; I still hate to be needlessly touched, except that my definition has grown from tickling and hugs to include cuddling, be it pre-, post- or non-coital.

Sex has a purpose, so the only touching that I could tolerate was in order to obtain sex. You could say that it was the only poking that I’d deal with. Read More »

Everyone knows the ONE GOLDEN RULE when it comes to best friends that are guys: DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, SLEEP WITH THEM.

After a few drinking games and too many shots of tequila it would have taken a bold letter tattoo of “the golden rule” tattooed straight on my FACE in order to obey it. Tequila makes rules exempt and makes best guy friends the perfect lay. Until the next day…

My best friend was like my brother (insert disgusted face here). He knew everything about me, the guys I dated, my bad habits, my snarky attitude and what I looked like with no make up and how red my zits could get. We would stay up late playing poker and card games, or searching for an ice cream place that was open past midnight and if they weren’t he’d stop and buy me my favorite mint chocolate chip at the grocery store. We had inside jokes and I made fun of his blonde girlfriends and he made fun of my skinny emo boyfriends. We were each other’s exact opposite of who we were typically attracted to.

The first time we slept together the sexual tension was palpable. One day we were speaking to each other doing Anchorman impressions and the next day we were — wildly attracted to each other (blame it on the inebriation). We were so attracted, in fact, that we managed to have sex with Ong Bak The Thai Warrior playing on the screen in the background.

…Nothing like kung fu to get you going. Read More »

So you’re ready to meet the man of your dreams…all you need to do is find him. But you’ve been hanging out at the bars every Friday and Saturday night, been attending all of your business classes, and you’ve even been hanging out at your school’s football, baseball, and track practices daily. This whole trying to find a boy thing is getting tiring, isn’t it?

Well ladies, don’t fear; because as usual, Cosmo is here to tell you how to find the man of your dreams. And they’re telling us that we need to stop going to the bars and frat houses and we need to start hanging out at our local Apple store. Read More »

A friend of a friend of mine once told me that she didn’t see me as the “relationship girl”.“I see you more as the girl who goes to the bar to find random guys to bring home,” she told me. At first I didn’t know what to think. Was she calling me a skanky whore?

“Well, yes. That is exactly what I am calling you.”

The more I thought about it, though, the more I could understand. Our friendship hadn’t extended much past seeing each other at bars or parties, places where I do indeed spend my evening flirting with unsuspecting males.

What this girl (and other people) doesn’t see are the intimate talks I have with these men in my room, and my attempts to turn these randoms into something more. For example, the following story: Read More »

Frat parties: after eight months of their splendor we swear them off for eternity. As soon as freshman year ends and we move out of the dorms we promise never to return to their sweaty sleazy goodness.

Who wants to wait in those long lines freezing to death in a mini skirt and tube top in the middle of winter? Who wants to be packed into a small room with sweaty men groping your ass at every turn?

Who wants to listen to that awful rap music boasting illegitimate children and millions of dollars worth of bling blaring from oversized speakers?

Not me…or so I thought.

Look at me now: freezing to death in a pair of jeans and a button down, waiting in line to get into a crowded room where older and sleazier men are trying to pinch my butt while grinding to awful rap music blaring from oversized speakers.

What’s the difference?

I am now paying for all of these lovely amenities.

Why is it ok to take part in these activities at a bar and not at a frat party? What is the difference, really? And, think about it, which one really is better? Let the battle begin:

Frat
No Toilet Paper- some women have been forced to drip dry or–gasp!–use items such as leaves and notebook paper while taking care of business.
Bar
Usually have toilet paper, but not always a working toilet. Some squatters have even been known to brush up against pre-used TP piled high in clogged bowls. Read More »