Thought Catalog

10 Women Reveal What It Is About Certain People That Can Make Them Have Multiple Orgasms

Posted: 12 Aug 2015 07:42 AM PDT



“With my last boyfriend there was just something about him. He was the least experienced man I had ever been with and a lot of the things we did together he was doing for the first time. Once he learned how I liked things he could get me off at least twice or three times in one session, depending on how long it lasted. The other guys could never do that.” – Megan, 33.


“His tongue. God bless that thing. Most guys begrudge going down on girls. But not this dude. Man, give him 5 minutes and he’ll have you screaming louder than ever before. I wish more guys were better or more interested in learning oral techniques.” – Kelly, 27.


“Am I the only girl who is all about the way a man’s hands look? This one guy I dated in college for a short time had the sexiest hands and he knew how to use them. He had a small penis and maybe that’s why he learned to get better in other ways. Who knows. His dick was great but seriously – those hands knew how to work my clit. He’d let me come 5 or 6 times then after I couldn’t take it anymore I’d show him my appreciation in whatever way he wanted.” – Berri, 31.


“I wasn’t able to have multiple orgasms until my mid-20s. It doesn’t happen with every guy I date and I can’t really plan it or try to make it happen. Sometimes my body’s just very into the moment and whatever’s happening and it happens over and over.” – Kristen, 28.


“This is kind of embarrassing to admit but I could never have an orgasm with anyone until I got with my girlfriend. By myself no problem, but with others, it seemed hopeless. She’s great at knowing all the right pressure points and how to give me what I want when I really need it.” Cameron, 26.


“Big penis. Obviously.” – Jessica, 34.


“Honestly, being able to make a woman come several times doesn’t have much to do with the person’s dick or the size of anything. It has to do with the connection and passion the two people have, if the woman knows her body well enough and is connected with it enough during sex. When those 2 things are present any woman can have multiple orgasms. Trust me. I know from experience.” – Veronica, 31.


“There was this bi-girl I fooled around with for awhile. She was so beautiful and every time I was around her I became this idiot who could barely speak because she was just so gorgeous to me and everything about her turned me on – the way she spoke, her laugh, the freckles on her collarbone. She’s how I knew at that time that I was at least bisexual. I’ve been with other partners since then but she was the only one who could make me feel the way she did. We would have these long lovemaking sessions where we’d go for hours and we’d both orgasm several times. It was a beautiful experience.” – Rebecca, 25.


“My boyfriend’s really into trying anything and everything with me. I’m the first girlfriend he’s had in awhile and he’s never been very sexually adventurous but because I’m more open and willing to try new things, he’s discovering what he likes and what he’s good at. It’s perfect for me because the excitement and passion we have for our sex life always helps me get off every time, usually more than once. I don’t think there’s any magical reasoning behind it. I think it just comes down to chemistry.” – Ellen, 32.


“I’m the kind of person who gets more turned on when I know my partner is turned on, so by pleasing my partner and seeing how happy I make her, it naturally just makes me more able to enjoy my time over and over.” – Jordyn, 24. TC mark

The Greatest Sex Of My Life Was When It Was Illegal

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 09:47 AM PDT

andres carreno
andres carreno

I remember the first John I ever fucked. New Jersey hotel room. Black suit. Bareback. He was nice; gentle. Maybe he could sense my nervousness or maybe he was like that with all the girls. He asked me if I’d go Greek and I said no. First of all, I didn’t even know what that meant…not until I Googled it later that night when the last John had left and I was drinking a glass of wine alone in my hotel room. Second of all, once I did know what it was I couldn’t imagine ever letting someone put it in my ass.

Isn’t it sort of funny how the things we tell ourselves we’d never do because of our morals we end up loving in the end?

This was years ago. Back when Craigslist let college girls and professionals put ads up advertising a quick fuck for $200 an hour. I don’t really remember (or care) how I found out about this or how I started doing all of this – all I know is that once I started I didn’t want to stop.

That summer was the summer of Rihanna’s “Umbrella” and that song permeated my ears every time I came to NYC. I was just a shy girl from the South but when I flew to the East coast – usually JFK or Newark, depending on who I was working for – I transformed into Alexis.

Alexis was cunning, confident, and knew how to take care of men in the way they needed. She wore short skirts and cute outfits that were nice enough to look business casual but just slutty enough to steam the mirrors. Sometimes they wanted to fuck. Sometimes they wanted a blowjob. Most of the time they just wanted to talk.

What was I, a 21-year-old college girl from Georgia, doing in a New Jersey hotel room? That’s what the first John asked me. At the time I didn’t have much of an answer but eventually, over time, I learned to rehearse the kind of ‘woe is me’ victim answer that always seemed to please them. I also learned after the first John to never EVER go bareback. Rookie move on my part. Luckily, I was safe. The married guys always were.

When I say the greatest sex of my life was illegal I’m not saying it was great because I was a young girl in a hotel room getting fucked by men twice my age who had the cash to pay for a little relief on their lunch break. I’m saying the greatest sex of my life was illegal because the men who paid, the men who needed it the most, the men who didn’t talk and just slowly unzipped their pants for me to take care of them – those men gave me exactly what I needed – cash, mostly, (obviously), – but power.

What do I mean by that, by power? I mean that there is nothing more powerful than a woman on her knees giving a man a blowjob. You can dehumanize sex workers all you want but there’s a reason why sex work exists and why it will always exist. There’s power in making a man cum because as much as he thinks he doesn’t need you, he does, and when he’s hungry enough for that release, he’ll go to desperate measures to get it.

The thing about sex work is that many sex workers eventually find it tiresome and tedious. Like any job, yes, it gets this way. Some Johns try to intimidate you. Some try to cheat you out of what they owe you. Some think they’re in control in the situation. And I get that. What boss isn’t that way? But getting a man so horny he’ll open his wallet and hand you every last dime in his checking account is a beautiful thing.

It’s been years since I left New Jersey, since I left New York, since I said goodbye to that kind of life. It was a fun, strange, if not interesting time of my life. And out of all of it – the cash, the jewelry, the expensive dinners and clothes I treated myself to – what I miss the most is the sex. TC mark

Biking The City: 9 Surprising Things Biking Can Teach You About Love, Fear, And Life

Posted: 12 Aug 2015 05:32 PM PDT

Instagram / Kovie Biakolo
Instagram / Kovie Biakolo

After years of being terrified to bike in the city, I finally bought the above baby from a girl moving out of my building in March. It’s the best $100 I’ve spent this year. Also, here are a few things anyone can learn/be reminded of, from biking:

1. Everyone thinks the road belongs to them.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a biker, a pedestrian, or a driver, everyone somehow thinks the road belongs to them; everyone thinks they have the right of way. It becomes a reminder that people are probably not thinking about you much of the time – they are mostly thinking about themselves. Remember that the next time you think a stranger is doing something to you that has the potential to ruin your day. It’s probably not to you or about about you, it’s about them. Once you realize that, it’s easier not to sweat the small stuff.

2. Courage is more important than skill.

Skill, for the most part, can be learned. Many of us learned how to bike when we were kids. And biking the city, whether you’re a child or an adult, does take some skill. But more importantly, it involves courage: The courage to do it knowing that you are smaller than the SUV next to you, or to get on your bike the next day even though you got caught in the rain yesterday. This courage teaches you that if there is something you want – whether it’s the romantic attention of someone, or to make a difference in some way, or a new career, or a new life – how “good” you are is not as important as how brave you are.

Quote Catalog 1

3. Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it does make you get better.

Dispel any notion that one day you’re going to be perfect. Sure, you become familiar with certain routes and you know the psychology of drivers better with each passing day. But no matter how good you are, you’ll never be perfect. Not only because of the unpredictability of the day, but because perfection is not really the goal. It’s really about getting from one point to another, and with a certain kind of freedom as you ride. Life is sort of like that, isn’t it? Getting from one point to another, and with a certain kind of freedom. And you get there…without perfection.

4. Don’t try something new half-heartedly – really give it a chance.

Trying anything new starts in the mind and heart before anywhere else. Even something like biking. Loads of people want to bike, and some people might even try it out. But only with half a heart in it. And much like anything else, if you put half your heart into it, you won’t get much out of it. Think of all the things you’ve done half-heartedly. What if you had put your whole heart into it? Would you have enjoyed it better? Could it be something meaningful to you now? It’s hard to be half-hearted when you’re on the road anyhow. And not only that, it’s kind of dangerous too. You’re either in or you’re out. What if we participated in the things in our life with that sort of attitude?

5. Loving something is the easy part. Committing to it is what is difficult.

I can’t say that I love (city) biking yet. I mean even biking for fitness is not my go-to. I’m a runner – running will always be my first love. And walking in the city still feels more my speed. But you know what? I could see myself loving biking too if I do it enough. But committing to doing it regularly is what will make all the difference. It’s sort of like being in a relationship in that way. You can fall in love and it can be the grandest love you’ve ever experienced. But if you don’t commit to the other person, chances are, that relationship has an expiry date.

QC 3

6. Even the best fall down sometimes.

For the record, the above line is from the Howie Day song, Collide. It’s really interesting that when you become a city biker, you all of a sudden become part of this weird community of people who tell you stories about themselves in relation to biking. You discover quickly even the best bikers, the most bad-ass of all, the veteran bikers, etc. have all been in some near-death accidents. Did that stop them? No. You fail, you fall, you get hurt, and you decide if that will mean you get on your bike again. Why do we expect life to go smoothly? We will fall, we will fail, we will get hurt. It’s okay because we can get up again. (As long as we’re not dead.)

7. A little kindness goes a long way.

At this point, I would like to give a personal shout out to every driver on the road who probably saw my facial expression of, “Please don’t kill me,” and by their motions, made it known they were aware of me. I was eternally grateful for this in my earliest days. And because of that, I try to do the same sometimes when I bike – letting pedestrians or drivers pass through ahead of me. Or while I’m making a turn, seeing how I can make life easier for them. Or maybe just waiting patiently. Taking that off the road, how much better is life when you and I can put others ahead of ourselves? If only a little bit every day.

8. Don’t be obsessed with the outcome.

Let’s say you try biking and you really give it your all, and it’s just not for you. Guess what? That’s okay. Or maybe it’s okay that even after many months and years of biking, you’re still not as hardcore as you’d like to be. Maybe after trying your hardest, the only time you ever really want to bike is on a warm summer day and with all the time in the world. What matters is that you tried. We become attached to the person and the things we conceive in our heads must happen – that we must have a certain kind of life, love a certain kind of person, and be a certain kind of person. But when you try something, the important thing above all, is a discovery of what you really want and don’t want. Let the outcome be.

9. Fear is an enemy you can turn into a friend.

Fear, believe it or not, is something you can turn into your friend. In fact, a little fear is healthy. It’s good for the soul, for self-preservation, and for one’s own humility. The key of course is to not let fear cripple you. It’s been said a million times and in different ways but overcoming your fears in spite of them, is where the amazing truly begins. I was afraid of biking, and sometimes when I get nervous about a big truck in front of me or wonder if I’m going to make the light, or when I’m trying a new route, I still get afraid. But that fear keeps me vigilant and focused. And when I overcome it, it frees me. When we think of how we interact with people, how we want to love them, and how we want to live with them and with ourselves – our fears can hold us back. Or they can be the very reason we say, “I’m afraid but I’m going to keep going anyway.” TC mark


A Bitter ‘Call Of Duty’ Player Placed A Curse On Someone For Beating Him, And I Was Called To Check It Out

Posted: 21 Jul 2015 09:03 AM PDT

Amazon / Call Of Duty
Amazon / Call Of Duty

Logan wasn't a great student, but that fact never really seemed to bother him. He wasn't good at any traditional sports either, and at 14, he was still too young to have had any real time to develop a sense of humor. What Logan WAS good at was Call of Duty. Of course, he was still in middle school and didn't have a job or any bills to pay, meaning he probably had a lot more free time to devote to the game than most. But it was more than that. When it came to video games, Logan had always naturally excelled.

Back before his older brother Michael had gone off to Afghanistan and died when his Humvee was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade, Mikey used to con his friends by betting they couldn't beat the then-nine year-old Logan in a 1-v-1 match of Halo. Logan would let them pick the map and set whatever variables they wanted…launchers only, double health, unlimited sticky grenades. It didn't matter. Logan always beat them.

It was Michael who first introduced his little brother to Call of Duty and these days, Logan was a top-tier player. Ranked third in the Under-17 division, and those rankings were worldwide. Unfortunately, Logan's "l33t skrillz" and pubescent voice caused a lot of older players to lash out at him.

As upsetting as it is to admit any cliché, the Call of Duty community isn't exactly known for its level-headed sensibilities and discovering they had been bested by "a squeaker" was usually too much for the players ranked at Logan's level to take in stride. Obscenities and vulgar threats were lobbed his way on a daily basis. Though to Logan's 14 year-old ego, they might as well have been giving him a standing ovation.

That is until "XxxtHeFaCeSiTtErxxX" sent a private message to Logan's XBox Live account one evening after a particularly heated match. The Face Sitter's message contained an audio recording of what sounded like a grown man screaming, "You little shit! You're gonna teabag me?! I'll summon a demon to eat your fucking soul!"

Logan had become so desensitized to receiving these kinds of threats, he really didn't think much of the message until later that night when the whispering started. He was in his bed and was about to fall asleep when he heard what sounded like a person quietly calling out his name.

The TV in his bedroom was still on and Logan assumed the movie he had been watching was the source of the sound. Without opening his eyes, he managed to grab the remote from his nightstand and switch off the TV.


The voice was coming from under his bed. It seemed to be coming from deep beneath him, as if the cluttered stretch of floorboard below his bedframe had somehow been replaced by a cavernous void. And somewhere within that void, a man was softly calling out Logan's name. He was calling out Logan's name because he was coming for him.

Logan realized all of this in the span of about two seconds, which was the same amount of time that it took for the man to whisper Logan's name once more. And this time, he sounded a lot closer.

When he was little, Logan never had much of a problem with the dark or sleeping alone. He was something of an anomaly in this respect. That's why, when Logan came barreling through his mother's bedroom door that night at 1AM looking terrified, she assumed someone must have broken into the house.

Logan's mom shot up into a sitting position.

"What?! What is it?!" she shouted.

Logan was still staring back through the open bedroom door, gazing into the darkened hallway as he exhaled.

"Nothing, sorry… I had a bad dream."

"Damn it, Logan, you know I got a double tomorrow…" His mother let out a weary sigh and lifted the end of the comforter. "If you keep me up, I'm kicking you out," she said.

Logan climbed into her bed and spent the rest of that night pretending to sleep, his eyes glued to the bedroom door. The next day, he googled certain keywords while researching how to get rid of a demon and this eventually led him to contact me.

I should disclose that I actually knew who Logan was before he emailed me because he belonged to a professional-level CoD clan that was based in New Orleans and I was subscribed to their YouTube channel. I was subscribed to their channel because I also play Call of Duty. Not as much as Logan (and I don't take it nearly as seriously), but I do waste more time watching videos about it than a grown man probably should.

Anyway that's why, even though Logan's story had come with an extra-large pair of crazy pants, I was intrigued enough to follow up on it. This wasn't the first time I had been asked to investigate what essentially amounted to a haunted house but usually when I do, 99 percent of the time what happens isn't very interesting.

My laser thermometer might detect a few cold spots or the EMF app on my smartphone will jump around a bit and maybe I'll catch a weird visual artifact on video, but it's rarely much more than that. This time, however, was no bullshit.


I arrived at Logan's house at about 7:00PM, expecting to be greeted by concerned parents wanting to know what kind of guy made plans to hang out with a boy half his age that he met over the internet (and rightfully so), but it was Logan himself who answered the door.

"Hey, are your folks home?" I asked, not wanting to actually enter before I knew for sure. I had seen enough Dateline and didn't want to accidently walk into a Chris Hanson segment.

"Yeah," Logan said with a nod and then pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. "My mom's laying down in her room. She says if you're hungry, we got lots of cereal and Eggo waffles, but there's no butter, so you might not want the waffles."

"I ate before I left. Thank you, though," I responded and slowly took a step inside the house. I was still afraid to go much further than that, but I did move aside to let Logan close the door. "So, what does your mom think of your whole…situation?"

Logan glanced at the hallway leading off from the dimly-lit den.

"I tried to explain it to her but she's been pretty distracted with work and stuff,” he said.

"Does she know you invited a complete stranger here to film you while you sleep?"

"I told her who you were. Like three times but she never said anything so whatever. I read some of your stories. I like 'em. They're pretty messed up, but you don't seem like the kind of guy who would molest me."

"That's good to know."

"Besides if you try anything, I'll just zap you with this," Logan said as he held up a taser.

"Is that a fucking taser?"


"Bad ASS!"

"Yeah, my dad's friend is a cop."

"Clearly not a very good one," I joked.

"I also got a bunch of ninja stars and Airsoft guns, but my mom says we have to go outside if we're gonna mess around with those."

"Nah. I left my ninja stars at home and those are the ones I trained on. It wouldn't feel right."

Logan shrugged. "Your loss,” he said.

He led me into his bedroom, which was larger than the one I'd had at that age and the massive flatscreen mounted to the wall across from his bed was bigger than the TV currently in my living room. There was something almost surreal about the well-lit bedroom with its quality trappings which stood in direct contrast to the rest of the house's ratty furnishings and gloomy atmosphere.

As if he were reading my thoughts, Logan made a sweeping gesture at the room and said, "My dad's kind of loaded, but his new wife is a bitch and she hates me, so he did all of this when he made me move back in with my mom so he wouldn't have to feel guilty."

There were so many potential landmines of awkward in his statement, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond, so I simply nodded and started to unpack my equipment which consisted of my laptop, an analog tape-recorder, and two GoPro cameras. I set up the cameras so that one was facing the top of the bed and the other was aimed at the space beneath it.

Logan had already started up his XBox and dug out a second controller by the time I was done with my setup. He asked if I wanted to play a round of Zombies and I said sure, but I wasn't familiar with any of the new maps at that point and Logan eventually started to make fun of how bad I was at the game. Then I made fun of him for never having sexually gratified a woman and that seemed to shut him up.

After Logan got sick of carrying me in Zombies, we switched to Multiplayer and took turns playing that until about midnight when I finished a round and started to hand the controller to Logan, only to realize he was no longer sitting next to me. I glanced over at his bed and saw Logan sprawled out on top of the covers, sound asleep and quietly snoring.

I turned off the overhead light and then spent the next two hours or so reading on my phone while I sat there in the dark, listening for any strange voices that might be coming from under Logan's bed. Eventually, I nodded off and woke up just before dawn with a painful knot in my back from sleeping while sitting up.

Logan was still snoring away, so I quietly gathered my equipment and left. When I got home, I went back to sleep for a few hours and then woke up and answered some emails. I was about to send one to Logan when I realized I had yet to actually review last night's footage. That's when shit started to go all David Lynch on me.


I watched the footage from the camera facing the top of the bed first because it was positioned at a wider angle and you could see me and Logan in the shot. I had intended on fast-forwarding to the part where I fell asleep, but it quickly became apparent that the footage I was seeing wasn't lining up with my memory of the night before.

I rewound to where things first started to look weird and watched as I and Logan stood up and began to scream at the ceiling. There was a loud hissing sound, followed by a loud POP as the audio cut out and the rest of the video was completely silent, which made everything that happened next seem that much more surreal.

Suddenly, we both stopped screaming and Logan walked off camera as I got down on my knees and began to punch the hardwood floor. I glanced down at my hand, which I suddenly realized was quite sore, and finally noticed the tiny cuts lining each of my knuckles. I watched myself continue to punch Logan's bedroom floor for almost a minute before a rail-thin woman with short blond hair suddenly crawled into frame.

I recognized her as Logan's mom from when I had glimpsed her walking back from the kitchen earlier that night. She looked different now. There was something wrong with her eyes. The pupils were so dilated that her corneas looked black and she was baring her teeth at me.

Just then, Logan reentered the shot and slapped his mother across the face. She cowered as the blow hit her and then slinked out of view like a scolded dog. Logan, now looking excited, said something to me and gestured to follow as he got down on his stomach and started to crawl beneath his bed.

From what I could tell, the footage on the camera looking beneath Logan's bed lined up with everything on the other angle. I fast-forwarded to where Logan slid beneath the bed, but the space below was too dark to see anything, even from this camera. Logan seemed to completely vanish from view as soon as he was underneath it. I watched myself do the same as I followed him beneath the bed and for the next four hours or so, that's where we stayed.

I fast forwarded to when Logan and I finally reemerged, just before dawn. We were both laughing and I had a patch of blood on my arm that turned out to be a bite-mark. I had it looked at by a veterinarian and, based on the amount and size of the teeth, he was able to rule out human as the source, but couldn't tell me much more than that.

I resumed the first video and watched Logan climb into his bed and close his eyes as I dropped down into the chair in front of the flatscreen and did the same. A beat later, I "woke up" and stood. I stretched and started to collect my stuff, just as I had remembered doing.

Only at the time I hadn't noticed Logan's mother standing in the far corner of the room, almost completely obscured by darkness except for her face and her wide unblinking eyes, which were fixed on me as I approached the camera and switched it off.

I threw a glance back over my shoulder, reflexively scanning the corners of my own bedroom and finding them free of frail blond women. This didn't do much to ease the mounting sense of dread that compelled me to reach for my phone and dial Logan's number as I hurried out to my car. There was no ring; the call went immediately to voicemail.

"Logan, it's Joel. The dude from the internet. You need to get out of your house right now. I'm serious. Call me back and I'll explain everything. I think it's in your mom," I said and then hung up, so flustered by this point that I hadn't even realize how suggestive that last line sounded.

I was still clutching my cell when it lit up a moment later and I looked down to see Logan's name on the screen. I quickly accepted the call.

"Hey man, I'm on my way over there," I shouted.

Logan cut me off, his voice sounding unnaturally calm. "There's no need. We're fine," he said.

"No, listen…"

Logan held his mouth close to the receiver. "Pleasehelpme!" he whispered.

It took me a beat to process what he had just said. "I'm on my way," I said.

With that, I hung up and floored the gas. I arrived at Logan's at least a half hour after sundown, and yet the lights were off when I pulled up to the house. The feeling of intense dread I had been managing to suppress up to this point intensified until it felt like a caged animal was gnawing at the lining of my stomach.

Don't go in there, a tiny voice pleaded inside my head. This was one that I didn't hear from very often — my voice of reason. Please? You know I don't ask for much but seriously? What do you have to gain from going inside that house? You know that kid is as good as dead. Peace of mind is for fucking suckers.

True as that may be, I told Logan I would help him and I had to at least try. I preemptively opened the flashlight app on my phone and slowly exited my car. As soon as I stepped foot outside, I noticed something was off, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what.

Logan's house wasn't in a bad neighborhood, but it looked like it belonged in one. I didn't recall the peeling white one-story looking QUITE so ratty the day before, but then again, my memory hadn't exactly been the most reliable as of late, so I tried my best to shrug it off and began to approach the front door.

I knocked and the door, which hadn't been completely shut, slowly creaked open as I rapped my fist against it. The caged animal resumed gnawing at my stomach as the voice started up again.

Unlocked front door that slowly swings open as you knock on it? Doesn't that happen in that film? What's it called? Oh yeah, EVERY FUCKING HORROR MOVIE EVER! Seriously, man, take a hint!

I leaned in through the doorway and shouted into the darkness.


I waited a full and very tense 10 seconds for his response and when it didn't come, I waited a full 10 more. Still nothing. I slowly stepped through the doorway and finally entered the house as I continued shouting.

"Logan, man, it's Joel! Are you okay?! Is your mom here?!"

As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I heard movement to my left and quickly swiveled to scan the adjacent room with my phone's camera-light. The room was positioned between the den and the kitchen and was probably intended as a dining area, though it's only furnishings at the moment were several large cardboard boxes positioned so that they concealed one corner of the room.

"Who's there?" I shouted, aiming my light at the box-fort. Familiar music began to blare from somewhere behind me and I jumped. Someone in Logan's bedroom started up Call of Duty and what I was hearing were the opening notes of its multiplayer menu screen.

I turned and slowly made my way down the hall to Logan's room. The door was sitting slightly ajar and I peeked inside. The wall-mounted flatscreen was the room's only source of light, but there was no one seated in front of it. I placed a hand on the door and slowly pushed it open until I spotted Logan's limp body sticking out from under his bed.

At least I assumed it was Logan. Everything from the shoulders up was hidden beneath the bed frame. I hurried into the room and knelt down beside him as I shoved the bed over, revealing Logan's pale bloated face. The boy's eyes were wide and lifeless.

It was all just so…fucking needless. Some asshat gets beat by a kid in a video game and he figures out a way to summon a demon to kill the kid and for what? Are there really people out there that detached from humanity? Are there people THAT cruel?

The flatscreen suddenly switched off and the room was enveloped in darkness. Luckily, I still had my phone-light on and wasn't at a total loss. I aimed the light down at Logan just in time to see him grin at me, revealing a mouthful of needle-tipped fangs.

I tried to pull away as I felt Logan wrap his icy fingers around my wrist and my phone flew out of my hand, sending my only source of light sailing across the room. I yanked free of Logan's grasp as my phone clattered to the floor a few feet away. The flashlight app switched to a slow strobe as it struck the ground, which made everything that happened next look like it was taking place inside one of those old Nickelodeon movie players.

I turned and started to stand, but Logan was too quick. I heard a shuffling behind me and suddenly his arms wrapped themselves around my throat. His weight drove me back to the ground as the possessed child hissed in my ear. I struck my shoulder against his dresser as I was crashing to the floor and something that had been resting on top of it clattered to the ground inches from my head.

I started to try and stand, hoping I could shove Logan off of me, when a jagged torrent of pain ripped through my body. I turned to see Logan biting into my shoulder. I let out a painful scream and reflexively glanced around, scanning my surroundings for some kind of weapon, when I finally noticed what I had knocked off of Logan's dresser.

I jammed the taser into Logan's face and pulled the trigger. Quick tip: the human body is a great conductor of electricity. Meaning if someone is say biting into your shoulder and you shock them with a taser, it's going to shock you as well.

The charge of electricity made us both convulse and I released the trigger. Logan, stunned from the taser, stopped biting me. I took this opportunity to throw him off of me and I zapped him again. I snatched my phone from the ground as I bolted out of the room.

The flashlight app was still set to strobe, which was a bit disorienting, but at that moment, I was too focused on trying to get out of that godforsaken house alive to worry about fixing it. I sprinted down the hallway and back into the den. As I neared the open front door, I heard what sounded like cardboard scraping against the floor of the adjacent room.

Logan's mom emerged from the darkness with her fingers curled into claws but I had been waiting for something to pop out at me as I approached the exit (a reflex of the trade, I guess), and I punched her square in the face as she lunged at me. The blow sent Logan's mom stumbling back and her own momentum drove her to the floor as I hurried out of the house thinking:

Not today, bitch!

And that's pretty much where the story ends. It took me a while to get over this one for a number of reasons, but mainly because of how senseless it all was. If I were a lesser man who believed in things like vengeance, maybe I would've found a way to back-trace the Face Sitter's Xbox LIVE account and get his home address. I would've staked out his house and followed him to work a few times, figured out his routine.

Then I would've waited for him to be vulnerable, say one night after he worked the late shift, and I would've preemptively sabotaged his car so that it gave out on him while driving home. I would've waited for him to pop the hood and then I would've pulled over behind him and gotten out.

He would've been confused as he first saw me approaching, Logan's taser in my hand. After shocking the Face Sitter into unconsciousness, I would've injected him with enough sodium pentothal to keep him asleep for the next phase of my plan, which started with a long drive.

When he did finally wake back up, the Face Sitter would've found himself half shoved under Logan's bed, immobilized by the handcuffs now binding his wrists and ankles. He would've heard me moving around and screamed something stupid like, "Why?! Why are you doing this?! Please! WHY?!"

I would've turned and exited the room as the Face Sitter was suddenly pulled beneath the bed and I would've smiled as I heard him emit a horrified scream from what sounded like somewhere deep beneath the floor. Of course, none of this would bring Logan back or undo what had happened but for what it's worth, that night I would've slept like a baby.

Just to be clear, though, we're speaking hypothetically here. For the record, I do not condone kidnapping or vigilante justice of any kind and did not actually do any of the things mentioned above.

And even if I did, good luck proving a word of it. TC mark

Read This If You’re The Eternally Single Friend

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 09:07 PM PDT


"10 Things People Who Don't Really Have Any Exes Understand"

I've been sitting on this headline for three weeks now. It's relatable. It hasn't really been done before. It has the potential to be really funny.

But it's a lie.

It's my way of reaching out to the "Eternally Single" audience without actually admitting how eternally single I am. Later, I can write fun pieces about casual relationships or dating, and no one will think anything of it.

But the thing is, it's not that I don't really have any exes; I just don't have any. There aren't any shades of grey to the matter. I've never been on a date, and the number of people I've flirted with is very safely in the low single digits.

I haven’t gone on a date with anyone partially because no one’s ever asked, and partially because the idea of dating someone with a “normal” dating history is terrifying when I’m a 22-year-old with as many romantic experiences as my 10-year-old niece. I feel like I need to walk into any Tinder match with a giant asterisk: *BEWARE. THIS ONE HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S DOING. APPROACH WITH CAUTION.*

So each time I sat down to write my “fun, lighthearted” article, it always started out the same, with me extolling the virtues of being blissfully single:

1. You get to occupy every corner of the bed!

2. The only people that will break your heart are George RR Martin, Shonda Rhimes, and a particularly good Bon Iver track.

3. You never have to worry about drunk-texting an ex! LOLOL life's great.

But soon enough, I start spiraling down into the rabbit-hole of singleness. The article doesn't feel honest unless it includes the not-so-great things about residing in Singletown, Population: 1.

4. Friends who've dated or been in relationships will never TRULY understand what it feels like to be a romantic leper.

5. No one takes your relationship advice seriously.

6. You'll lie awake at night wondering what's so wrong with you that romance in any form seems to disapparate as soon as you enter the room.

It's right around this point that I always abandon the article, because it was forcing me to analyze a part of myself that I avoid at all costs.

I like to read books and watch Doctor Who and pretty much ignore any personal soliloquies that my brain runs on repeat like a Law and Order: SVU episode starring a now-famous actor.

Nothing good comes from wondering why I'm single and always have been, but that seems to be the only thing anyone wonders when they hear that the closest I ever got to a relationship was in sixth grade when a fellow 11-year-old LIKE-liked me for a month.

What? But you're such a nice girl! Any guy would be lucky to date you. Someone will come. Don't worry, you're just a late bloomer. There's nothing wrong with that.

Fuck late bloomers. I'm not a "late bloomer" because it implies that there's something wrong. That I fucked up and didn't fall into the same schedule as everyone else, and I'm the one running behind. That I haven't yet "bloomed," and only once other people start noticing how great I am will I finally "blossom" into the person I am supposed to be.

So here's my article:

3 Things People Who've Never Been In A Relationship Need To Know

1. There's nothing inherently wrong with you.

2. Your lack of a dating history doesn't define you.

3. Just because everyone else is doing things one way, doesn't mean you need to follow suit. Life isn't a straight line, and no one's path is going to look the same. Blaze your own trail.

This article isn't meant to be some feminist anthem or "Woe is Me" prose. It's just me finally being honest:

I'm single. I'm happy sometimes and I'm lonely other times. I don't think that makes me any different from anyone else. TC mark

20 People Reveal What They Think Happens After Death

Posted: 12 Aug 2015 05:00 AM PDT


We have all pondered the afterlife—or lack thereof. However, these thoughts and views are not usually material we share with others beyond the context of religion or non-belief. The devout and the skeptics are often the loudest voices on the subject, leaving everyday folks unheard. Suppositions are commonplace, as this topic does not long escape any person's notice; still, the hushed tones in the backdrop of humanity may provide us greater insight than the booming noises overpowering them. The twenty responses below reveal individual analyses shaped by unique experiences and thinking processes.


1. "I strongly believe you go to Heaven, but Heaven is a realm that is an aside to our earthly lives. You don't leave the people here on Earth, but you are here and free from worry; you have a great understanding of how insignificant your earthly presence really is…That's kind of what I want."

—Mary, boomer


2. "I think you become another living organism…I would like to choose what happens to me, so I can wait for my loved ones to die, or become an animal that can check up on loved ones, or reincarnate whenever I decide (there is) something else I really want to experience."

—Daniela, millennial


3. "I don’t think anything happens… but I'd love to freely roam the Universe."

—Michael, millennial


4. “DKH (Dead Kitty Heaven)."

—Ann, millennial


5. "I sort of believe in reincarnation and Karma…I would wish to come back with my same mindset and knowledge as a baby."

—Jason, millennial


6. “Heaven."

—Lorraine, boomer


7. “I think you would be instantly reborn… Maybe reunite with loved ones."

— Dawan, gen x


8. "I think the soul is ever-living, and so it can never die. Once the body dies, the soul moves to a higher place of existence, and from there you choose to either stay in that higher place or go at life again with a veteran soul."

—Danny, millennial


9. "Since I was dead for fifteen minutes back in December, I know exactly what happens: nothing. It's just like a light switch: off."

—Jeff, boomer


10. "You go to a place with peace and harmony…After Death, I would like to keep my family safe and happy."

—Maureen, boomer


11. "Nothing would happen."

— Andrew, millennial


12. "I think the idea of Life after Death is something that a lot of people need to keep from fearing Death every second of their lives. That said, I don't really know what happens once you die; I just hope it's something… As far as what I would choose? I'm torn between being reunited with those you love and starting completely anew via reincarnation. If I were forced to choose, I would hope to see everyone I've loved who has passed—at their happiest moment. For me, the ideal Afterlife is reuniting with the ones you loved most, but at your best self."

—Courtney, millennial


13. "It kind of does scare me to think that there's nothing waiting for anyone after Life. It puts me in a place where I want to believe the choices we make in Life lead us down a path that gives us the opportunity to pave the way to what happens afterward. For example, in my past I wanted a chance to live differently. I believe if I had been cut down before my time, I would have been reincarnated and given that second chance. However, I've gotten to that second chance in this life, and now my passion is helping others. I believe if I died today, my soul would go on and carry out my passion, in a way I'm uncertain of and excited by. I look at Life like a college education; you pick your own major for the next chapter."

—Paul, millennial


14. "…If I could pick one to fantasize about, it would be like the image of the Afterlife in the movie The Lovely Bones. Just like that."

—Carrie, boomer


15. "You come back from the dead, at least for a while, not like a zombie, though."

— Bob, boomer


16. "Since no one sends letters or information after Death, I believe that's it. Over and out… But I would rather believe that it's so inexplicably awesome that no one can describe it. I'd like to spend the rest of eternity without pain, stress, worry, greed, jealousy, hate—and just all be the same enjoying every moment equally. The feeling of standing in warm sunshine with your eyes closed and a smile on your face without a care in the world. Yep. That's what I hope to have on the other side."

—Jennie, gen x


17. "I could write a book because I have been investigating this for a very long time. We are energy, and energy never dies; it just changes form. Many people have died and been brought back to life, yet can't talk about it because they are made fun of or called crazy. I think it's another dimension and I think one day we'll know what that dimension is."

— Joan, boomer


18. "I don’t think it is in my human peabrain’s capacity to ever understand it, and I believe it’s pretty self-righteous of the human race to believe they could understand. Neal Degrasse Tyson says the Universe isn't obligated to give me any answers and that pretty much sums it up… But, what do I want to happen? I want to believe in reincarnation the most, I guess. I don’t want to continue as myself, whether I’m aware of it or not. Of course, I’d prefer a supernatural phenomenon but I think it’s probably much simpler than that. Sorry, I can be pretentious."

— Sydney, millennial


19. "As Louis CK says, 'Lots of things happen after you die, just none of them happen to you.' I imagine it’s like shutting off a television, or as some philosophers have said, it will 'feel' or 'look' just as things did before you were born. That is, nothing. Would I like there to be an Afterlife? Sure, that’s a lovely thought. Unlikely, and I shudder to think of the implications — that the supernatural exists, that there is some sort of system of divine justice, etc. That said, the idea of some sort of good/evil dichotomy is both a paradox, as something I noticed in my first few months of training in the church. If 'heaven' is a place free from pain or suffering, and there exists some place that is its opposite, how could you be in this 'heaven,' knowing there are people suffering (in 'hell,' or back on Earth) and still be, yourself, free from pain? To be honest, the idea of an Afterlife opens up so many questions, and I'm not sure there are acceptable answers for most of them."

—John, millennial


20. "I believe that energy can't be created, nor destroyed. I believe Life and Death work in symmetry. I see this as two circles: one represents 'Life' and one represents 'Death.' Once a person dies, that person is no longer in the physical world—the circle 'Life.' That person is instead expelled into another dimension, that is, circle 'Death.' If a person dies feeling he/she left something unfinished in Life, that person's spirit is trapped in both worlds, like the space between two circles in a Venn diagram. However, if the spirit of that person can leave that place of limbo, it can find either enlightenment or darkness, depending on the inclination of its energy. There's a twist: the circle of 'Death' can move into the world of the living, and the spirit may have to occupy another vessel, like reincarnation."

— Manny, millennial TC mark

The Superhero Hack: Why You’re More In Control Than You Think You Are

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 03:07 PM PDT


At some point or another in life, we all hit a wall.

We reach a place where our situation seems hopeless. Our options seem limited. Our motivation wanes and none of our attempts seem to be paying off. These are the times when we're most likely to give up on what we’re working towards. We grow frustrated with our external circumstances and resign to the assumption that there's no plausible way around them. Or at least, no way that we can figure out.

There's a particular mental hack I turn to when I'm feeling especially stuck, and it goes as follows:

Imagine that tomorrow morning, your favourite superhero woke up in your body and was consigned to living your exact life.

What about your life would that superhero change? What would they refuse to keep tolerating? What about your life would your superhero of choice use your body, your resources and your exact situation to combat – in a way that you've perhaps never quite had the courage to?

If Batman woke up in your body tomorrow, would he keep taking shit from your boss? Would Spiderman feel trapped by your finances? Would Thor shy away from asking out the person you've always had a crush on and would Wonder Woman sit at home streaming Netflix for ten to fifteen hours at a time?

Of course not. Those scenarios seem perfectly implausible. Superheroes are, after all, super because they possess abilities that the rest of us do not. We can scarcely even imagine them dealing with our day-to-day struggles because they'd be trivial matters for our favourite idols. And yet, if they were devoid of their regular powers, they'd still find a way to solve our problems. So why can't we?

Here's the difference between you and that superhero or family member: You are confining yourself by the story of your past. You're repeating it to yourself ceaselessly and letting it bleed into your present and future.

The reason Batman wouldn't be afraid to confront your boss is because your boss hasn't bullied, barked at and demeaned Batman for years on end, whittling his self-esteem down into a pulp. The reason Superman would make a decent budget with your money is because Superman isn't accustomed to the $5 latte you buy on your way to work every morning and he'd be motivated to leave your dead-end job in favour of something more profitable. Thor isn't afraid to ask your crush out because he isn't still hurting from the way your ex inexplicably ended things six months ago and Wonder Woman knows that if you want to see your friends on the weekends, you should just text them and ask them to hang out.

We grow trapped by the stories that we tell ourselves: Affirming that we aren't confident enough or strong enough or worthy enough of any of the things that we want. We think that our favourite superheroes, our favourite TV characters, even our favourite loved ones possess some secret for overcoming these trails, but they don't. The only difference between them and us is that they're telling themselves a different story about what's possible.

If we had the ability to look at our lives through genuinely fresh our eyes, we'd be amazed to realize just how different things could be. So many things that we view as impenetrable obstacles stand in our way solely because of our own fear of failure or the unfamiliar. What is unchangeable to us is entirely optional to someone else. And once we realize that, it's also possible to realize just how much is within our grasp.

So tomorrow, don't wake up as yourself. Wake up as your favourite marvel, your favourite celebrity, your favourite hero or even your best friend. Think about what they'd do differently, what they wouldn't balk at and what they would consider themselves worthy of.

And then take the first step towards becoming the superhero that your life so desperately needs. TC mark

Hungary For Your Love: 33 Classic Burns From Zsa Zsa Gabor

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 12:57 PM PDT

Publicity photo of Zsa Zsa Gabor from 1959. (Wikimedia Commons)
Publicity photo of Zsa Zsa Gabor from 1959. (Wikimedia Commons)


I never hated a man enough to give him diamonds back.


Being jealous of a beautiful woman is not going to make you more beautiful.


I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man I keep his house.


I know nothing about sex, because I was always married.


I don’t take gifts from perfect strangers; but then, nobody is perfect.


How many husbands have I had? You mean apart from my own?


I love the intellectual type, they know everything and suspect nothing.


Diamonds are a girl’s best friend and dogs are a man’s best friend. Now you know which sex has more sense.


The women’s movement hasn’t changed my sex life. It wouldn’t dare.


The feather in your cap is to get a man you love who’ll marry you.


When I’m alone, I can sleep crossways in bed without an argument.


I believe in large families: every woman should have at least three husbands.


A man in love is incomplete until he has married. Then he’s finished.


You never really know a man until you have divorced him.


I only cook when I’m in love.


Husbands are like fires—they go out when unattended.


To a smart girl men are no problem—they’re the answer.


We were both in love with him. I fell out of love with him, but he didn’t.


Getting divorced just because you don’t love a man is almost as silly as getting married just because you do.


I pay all my own bills… I want to choose the man. I do not permit men to choose me.


Macho does not prove mucho.


I want a man who’s kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?


I like a mannish man: a man who knows how to talk to and treat a woman—not just a man with muscles.


The only way to learn a language properly, in fact, is to marry a man of that nationality. You get what they call in Europe a ‘sleeping dictionary.’ Of course, I have only been married five times, and I speak seven languages. I’m still trying to remember where I picked up the other two.


I don’t remember anybody’s name. How do you think the “dahling” thing got started?


Conrad Hilton was very generous to me in the divorce settlement. He gave me 5000 Gideon Bibles.


To be loved is a strength. To love is a weakness.


As a woman, you have to choose between your fanny or your face. I chose my face.


I always said marriage should be a fifty-fifty proposition. He should be at least fifty years old, and have at least fifty-million dollars.


There is nothing wrong with a woman welcoming all men’s advances as long as they are in cash.


I learned in school that money isn’t everything. It’s happiness that counts. So Momma sent me to a different school.


One of my theories is that men love with their eyes; women love with their ears.


A girl must marry for love, and keep on marrying until she finds it. TC mark

8 Telltale Signs That It’s Time To Get Back On The Road

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 09:58 AM PDT


1. Your original reason for coming home no longer applies.

Maybe you came home because a family member was sick. Or a significant other was missing you. Or your bank account was so severely depleted that you just weren't going to last another day overseas. In any case, your original reason for returning has become hopelessly outdated – and you're not really sure what's keeping you around now.

2. You've lost interest in advancing at work or committing to relationships.

It's not that you wouldn't like to move up at work or get more serious with that person you've been seeing… it's just that some involuntary part of you keeps resisting any form of commitment that comes your way. It's almost like your subconscious mind knows that you'll be taking off soon, even if you haven't specifically decided on it yet.

3. You can't remember the last time you did something that scared you.

You can't remember the last time you did something that really got your blood pumping. It's not that your life is entirely devoid of possibility, it's just that it always makes more sense to play it safe – and you've grown hopelessly accustomed to taking the road more traveled. You're aching to take a risk and get out of your comfort zone in a big way.

4. You spend more time daydreaming than you do living.

We all occasionally zone out at work or during a particularly dull conversation – but lately it's been happening regularly, in situations that never used to bore you. The thought of being back on the road has officially become more exciting to you than almost any other part of your life – you'll skip lunch dates to scour airfares and bail early from parties to go brush up your Spanish skills – after all, you'll probably be needing them soon.

5. Your day-to-day routine is starting to drive you mad.

You've never been particularly fond of routine, but lately it's particularly scathing. If you have to wake up at the same time, put on the same uniform, traverse the same commute and eat the same lunch for one more day, you actually think you might go mad. You'd give almost anything for a change in scenery.

6. Your goals and values no longer match up with those of your loved ones.

Everyone around you is getting pregnant, engaged or promoted. And as much as you're happy for them, you have no interest in doing the same. You feel out of synch with your regular community and you're starved for some likeminded company.

7. Talking to fellow travelers feels like a breath of fresh air.

Hosting a couch surfer or skyping one of your far-away friends makes you feel like you've been jolted awake after months of hazy half-consciousness. You never feel quite as rejuvenated, inspired and invigorated as you do after chatting with someone who shares your passion for wanderlust – and you know those are the people you need in your life every day.

8. You just haven't been feeling like yourself lately.

If there's one trait all travelers share, it must be this: They simply feel incomplete when they've been off the road for a while. It's not that you can't be your adventurous self when you're at home – it's just that you're lacking the unique type of stimulation that fuels and encourages your insatiably curious personality. For whatever reason, you feel like an entirely different person when you're traveling – and if you're being honest with yourself, you just like the person you are on the road better. And you’re ready to bring him or her back to life. TC mark