Thought Catalog

This Donald Trump Parody Of ‘The Office’ Is Actually F*cking Hilarious

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 08:15 PM PST

There hasn’t been a ton to laugh about this past week, but this parody of “The Office” staring Donald J. Trump is certainly one of them.

Posted to Twitter by Brandon Smith, the short clip is the opening sequence for the would-be TV show known as “The Oval Office.” the video is a 32 second clip with music that’ll probably sound familiar. It introduces some characters on this Office parody.

Like Donald Trump himself,

Twitter / Brandon Smith
Twitter / Brandon Smith

His Vice President,

Twitter / Brandon Smith
Twitter / Brandon Smith

And many more.

Twitter / Brandon Smith
Twitter / Brandon Smith

See for yourself! You’ve already come this far.

I can’t believe this only has 3,000 Retweets! TC mark

100 Things You Should Sext Your Man If You Want Him To Cum In His Pants Immediately

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 08:00 PM PST



Why aren’t you cumming down my throat right now?


Even when you’re not here you give me the best orgasms.


I’m naked in bed waiting for you.


I want your cum dripping out of me.


Just so you know, you can cum anywhere, anytime.


You make me so wet.


Can you please cum on my tits next time?


I miss your cock.


I’m stressed. I need you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name.


I’ve never been this wet before.


My pussy misses you.


I want to do something with you sexually you’ve never done before.


I just thought about you and I swear I got wet immediately.


My nipples get hard when you text me.


It’s been so long since I’ve sucked on your balls.


I don’t know why, but all I could think about in my work meeting was kneeling in front of you and getting you off.


I can’t wait to get home so I can sit on your face.


I’m sore in the best way from last night.


If I come to your office for lunch, which way do you want to fuck me on your desk first?


All I can think about is how you taste.


I just came so hard thinking about the way you pull my hair when you fuck me.


I’m not wearing panties today.


I’m ruining the panties I wore today thinking about you.


I just got a wax, wanna see?


I get to suck you dry before we go out tonight.


I miss hearing you cum.


Pretty sure my neighbors can hear when I think about you.


If you say one more thing I’m going to have to finish myself right here right now.


Is it wrong that just seeing those blue dots next to your name gets me wet?


Your cock is literally perfect.


Just so you know, you can have me any way, any time.


I’m at work and all I can think about is your cock.


How many times do you think I can make you cum tonight?


I couldn’t decide which panties you’d like best, so I decided not to wear any.


Can I give you head while you play video games later?


You have no idea how bad I want you to fuck me right now.


As soon as you walk in the door tonight I’m getting on my knees.


I was looking at my tits in the mirror and thinking about how much better they’d look with your cum on them.


Why aren’t you fucking me right now?


You make me think the nastiest thoughts.


I’m really craving your cum right now.


You made me make such a mess in my bed.


You made me cum so hard last time I swear I was going to pass out.


How long am I supposed to wait until I tell you how much I want your cock again?


You fuck me so good.


I just made myself cum thinking about you, but I’m down for round 2 if you feel like coming over.


Your cock drives me crazy.


I think it would be really hot if I could tie you up and tease you for hours before I make you cum.


I keep thinking about the way your cum tastes. I need to taste it again.


I think I’m in love with your cock.


I would suck your dick every morning if I could.


I wanna see your handprint on this ass.


You’re not leaving your bed this weekend.


I could never get tired of fucking you.


Ever since I met you I can’t stop touching myself whenever I’m in bed.


I wish you knew all the bad things I want to do to you tonight.


I ordered us a new toy.


I never knew I was so perverted until I met you and you made me think of all the ways I want you to make me cum.


Can you be showered and in sweats by 8? I have a list of naughty things I want to do to you tonight.


Cum over and don't say anything, I want to blow you for at least a half hour before I make you cum harder than you ever have before.


No one makes my panties wet like you.


Pull my hair tonight.


When is a good time to tell you how bad I want you to fuck me from behind right now?


Just so you know I’m going to make you cum at least twice when you get home tonight.


I just read that semen is supposed to be good for your skin. Can we test it out later?


I have expensive whiskey and I want you.


I love how sexy you look when you’re making me cum.


I was just thinking about how hard you made me cum last time. When can I see you?


I can’t decide if I want you to cum in my mouth or in my pussy more.


Fresh from church and ready 2 sin.


Can we go skinny dipping?


Here’s a picture of my boobs just because.


Here’s a picture of the panties I was wearing before I got them too wet thinking about you.


I can’t stop thinking about what you feel like when you’re inside me.


Tonight: fuck me like you hate me.


Tonight: make me cum while your cock is in my mouth.


Don’t talk tonight, just lay back and let me do all the work.


The only words I’m going to say tonight are ‘yes sir.’


Cum over.


Your hands and your dick can do no wrong.


I’m not usually this horny. But here I am sending you sexts in the middle of the afternoon because you’ve turned me into such a slut.


I’d give up netflix forever just to feel your fingers on my clit right now.


I’m dripping wet for you.


I could explain how horny you make me, but I’d rather you stick your fingers inside me and feel for yourself.


I want my tongue over every inch of your cock and balls.


I want to sit on your face until I can’t cum anymore.


You know what happens when you first get inside me? That’s all I’ve thought about at work today.


I need a good fucking.


I want to cum for you so badly.


I wish I was waking you up with a BJ right now.


Spank me later?


Be naked when I get home.


You. Me. No clothes. All weekend.


You’ve turned me into such a dirty little slut.


I need your tongue on my clit immediately.


I get turned on just thinking about your cum on me.


Tonight I’m going to tease you until you fucking beg to cum.


Last night I got myself off thinking about how I want to choke on your cock tonight.


The only thing that’s getting me through this day is the thought of your tongue on my clit.


You made me work all day in wet panties. TC mark

For more R-rated content follow Thought Catalog After Dark here.

13 Men Describe The Most Appealing Thing A Woman Can Wear On A First Date

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 07:01 PM PST

Image – Shutterstock
Found on AskReddit.

1. All about the lips.

Red lipstick. Wicked!

2. Sweater weather.

An oversized thick sweater.I have a fetish for women in sweaters so this would drive me crazy with lust through the whole date.

3. Something simple. Something fitted.

Not much make-up and something simple that fits your body. The same way a skinny lady wouldn’t benefit from saggy clothes, a chubby one wouldn’t benefit from skinny clothes. Just grab something simples that fits your body and wear a smile on that face. :)

4. Don’t be too hot?

I won’t notice her clothes at the first date unless she really made an effort to look hot. I am mostly focused on her lips, eyes and facial expressions. If she, however, dressed to be the hot femme fatale, then I’ll probably see her as a sexual and not a romantic partner.

5. No Granny panties.

Sorry but most men are not very into fashion. I will say however I always take hints from the underwear a girl wears. Cotton is just for friends on a casual night out. The nice stuff tells me she picked that out because she wants it to go somewhere. And the thick waistband granny panties tell me to stay away because a tampon has beat me there.

 6. Dress for the occasion.

Just dress appropriately for the venue.

At a nice italian place for a first date and she shows up in running pants and an athletic top. Feels a little awkward when I’m in pressed slacks and a button-up.

Come to think of it, this has happened a few times.

7. Classic LBD.

Gotta love that little black dress.

8. Good smells.

Nice smelling perfume and a smile.

9. Normcore. 

My opinion may not be the popular one here, but I usually prefer them to dress normally. While I personally make an effort to dress up because I know it’s most girls would like, I’m actually not a fan of seeing a girl caked with make up wearing something super sexy on the first date (barring like a really fancy dinner date). It kind of makes me feel like they’re trying too hard or are vain. I simply prefer something cute and stylish.

10. Seems easy enough.

A sundress if its summer. Conservative but sexy.

11. Dress like you’re a white girl on her way to Starbucks.

Yoga pants. Sexy and leaves nothing to the imagination.

12.  Um, that’s weird.

A pearl necklace and nothing else.

13. Good vibes all around.

The most appealing thing we can wear on a first date is an excellent attitude and a genuine smile! Get out there and be somebody today! Stay gold. TC mark

I Did My Best Friend A Favor By Sleeping With Her Husband While She Was Pregnant

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 07:00 PM PST

Shutterstock, Jose AS Reyes
Shutterstock, Jose AS Reyes

From the moment I meet Rebecca's husband Stan, I know he has eyes for me.

Not that I am dressed to kill. Far from it. For dinner with my old school friend and her husband I've chosen a simple knee length grey skirt and a white blouse. I’m wearing my glasses instead of contacts. I can't help that my breasts fill out my blouse, however.

Stan smiles confidently as he shakes my hand. He doesn't offer a hug, and I don't offer a peck on the cheek. We exchange a clear message through our eyes, silently.

My dear friend Becky is eight months pregnant, stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey. Her beauty is marred by the current puffiness of her face and she moves with the slow deliberateness of a ship.

We are having dinner at their posh suburban home and I’m seated right across from the happy couple. Becky's mother, Minnie, who sits next to me, is there to take her daughter back home with her for the remainder of her third trimester. A retired government servant, Minnie approves of my school teacher looks and my eye glasses.

Becky is chatting incessantly when Stan makes his move.

I feel a sock clad foot on my calf. I am about to jump up but his toes clamp down on my shin as if to warn me. Stan doesn’t even turn to look at me. He stares directly at his wife as she prattles on about Michelle Williams in My Week With Marilyn.

“I feel a sock clad foot on my calf. I am about to jump but his toes clamp down on my shin as if to warn me.”

Stan’s foot inches north, from caressing my shin to parting my knees beneath the dinner table. Instead of brushing his foot aside, I press my legs together. Stan massages my inner thighs. I draw breath sharply enough for Minnie to turn abruptly. Then I plead with Stan with a telling glance and he withdraws his foot suddenly.

A hot flush creeps over me. Stan is my friend's husband. What am I supposed to do?

After dinner, I head upstairs to the bathroom. On my return, Stan and I cross paths. I’m smiling as we pass each other on the steps when he grabs my wrist and turns me around to push me against the bannister. Up close it's impossible not to notice how handsome he is, and how gloriously dark his skin is.

"Stan, what is this?" I stammer.

He presses my face into the wall, then he lifts my skirt up until he can squeeze my butt cheeks through my panties.

Dammit, I think. Why did I wear a lace black low-rise thong to dinner with an old school friend?

"School teacher outside, slut on the inside. Mmmmmmm, I like that," Stan whispers as his hand traverse my upper thighs and ass.

He slaps my rump hard and the sound is loud enough for me to fear Becky might hear it. I bite my lips and push him away.

"I'll scream," I warn, but my breasts are heaving with arousal and Stan knows it.

"I have a cock thicker than your wrist, baby. Screaming is a given," he says, and pins my hands over my head and kisses my lips, slowly at first.

Then, as he feels my resistance weakening, he swoops in for the kill. His hand slips inside my skirt from the front.

Why am I getting excited by the idea of this dark skinned hunk atop my smooth white body?

“His hand slips inside my skirt from the front and he caresses my thighs till he reaches the elastic of my panties.”

"Stan, let go of me. Becky might come around the corner any minute," I say, pushing him off me.

He smiles the smile of a predator and walks upstairs.

On my way home in the taxi I receive a text from Stan. It reads: "Those school marm thighs are dying to open up for my hard cock. Why don't you give up the struggle?"

I bite my lips and press my legs together involuntarily. My response: "You are my friend's husband. Feel shame."

"Come off it baby, you know you want it. Tell you what. When I do you, I am going to take everything off except those stupid glasses."

His last message includes the address of his downtown penthouse along with a note that he'll be there tomorrow evening at 6pm.

The following day, I ring the doorbell at Stan's penthouse right at 6pm. He answers dressed in a white silk shirt and skin tight jeans. He looks good enough to eat. I am dressed in a short black dress.

In his living room he tries to take me in his arms, but I push him away firmly.

"A couple of things first. Rebecca is my best friend. She must not come to know about this, ever," I say.

"Yes, honey," he says as he takes a seat on the plush sofa.

I remain standing.

"Second, this arrangement will only last until the time Becky's back from maternity leave."

"Agreed. Are we done yet?"

"Lastly—and most importantly—you don't get to fool around with anyone but me. I am not kidding, Stan. I teach, so I can detect a lie in under a minute. If you cheat with anyone else, I will find out and so will Becky. Deal?"

“I take my dress off in a single smooth motion. Stan whistles softly when he sees my black lacy bra and panties with garters.”

Stan is pensive for an extended beat. Then he nods, "Deal. Now get down on your knees"


"On your knees, baby. Suck my cock while you're wearing your stupid glasses," he says and unzips his jeans.

Grimacing, he pulls his cock out. I feel weak in my knees as his hard, thick manhood springs free. He is certainly the most well-endowed man I have seen and my lady parts tingle at the thought of submitting to him.

I take my dress off in a single smooth motion.

Stan whistles when he sees my black lacy bra and panties with garters. I leave the glasses on and sink my knees into the soft carpet. He holds my hair and shoves my face towards his meat. Before I can open my lips to take him in he holds his cock in his hand and rubs its wet tip against my face and lips. I open my lips with a sigh and let him put his cock in my mouth. He moans as he feels my tongue slide across the base of his shaft. I touch his balls with the tip of my tongue once and then settle into a steady back and forth rhythm.

Stan leans back in the sofa and spreads his legs wider. He messes with my soft dark hair. I unhook my bra, letting the straps fall from my shoulders. Stan lazily cups my breast with one hand. His calloused palm triggers goose bumps on my soft skin and my nipples flush.

Eyes closed, Stan moans as I go about my work. Right before climaxing, he stands up, holding his cock in his hands. I know what he wishes and even though I find it disgusting I let him spray my face with his juices.

When I return from the washroom after cleaning Stan's come off my face, he is lying with his eyes closed on the sofa again. The sight of his toned abs and muscular thighs make me shiver.

“He watches as my nipples perk up again to his touch.”

Smiling, he opens his eyes. I stand before him in my panties and garters—and my glasses, of course.

Stan walks up to me and strokes my breasts with both hands. He watches as my nipples perk up in response to his touch. He slips his hand between my legs and strokes my pussy lips through the thin fabric of my panties.

"Turn around and bend over," he says.

I obey. I feel his large palms against my ass cheeks. He strokes and separates them a little. It’s humiliating to be inspected like some fucking piece of meat.

"This ass could use a little spanking," he says, and slaps me hard.

I try hard not to fall over but do not get up from my bent position. Stan administers quick slaps to both cheeks and then pulls my panties down.

"Ok, time to make you my personal bitch," he says.

I feel his erection pressing on my womanhood. I spread myself a little and Stan thrusts hard. I cry in pain and pleasure as his battering ram spears my tight cunt and settles in. He holds my thin waist in both hands and starts to pump. He starts slowly but soon he is hitting it so hard that I am struggling hard to stay on my feet. I turn to face him and he strokes me as if I were his pet.

We turn a little so I can bury my face in the sofa cushion and muffle my screams. Stan bends on top of me and holds my breasts through my armpits. I steal a look in a full length mirror and go crazy at the sight of this dark skinned man using my soft milky body. Stan is biting and scratching my back and buttocks and I don't care. The feeling is at once liberating and shameful.
Stan finishes with me there and then carries me to the upstairs bedroom. He lights a fire and we lie on the rug with blankets wrapped around us. My whole body aches pleasantly as I fall asleep. He wakes me in the night once and does me in the missionary position. Then we fall asleep again.

“Stan is biting and scratching my back and buttocks and I don't care.”

The next morning, I cook him breakfast. Before leaving, I kneel to give him head once more as he sits like a king on the living room sofa. Then he lets me dress but does not let me wear my panties.

"You can have these back when you come back tonight," he says.

"Oh Stan, I am so sore I don't think I can manage."

"Baby, you hold your end of the deal and I will hold mine," he says and kisses me hard.

When I hail a cab in front of his apartment I am dying of shame at being pantyless in public for the first time in my adult life.

That noon, I go to a chic café downtown for a late brunch. Rebecca is already waiting for me.

"Maya," Rebecca says.

"Ms. Tyler," I say. Now that Stan is no longer around, we are back to being formal.

"I wanted to ask if the plan was successful, but then I noticed how gingerly you walked in and how pale you look. Been there, done him. Congratulations," Rebecca says with a smile.

I smile back but say nothing. Rebecca slides a check across the table. The sum is large enough for me to keep servicing her husband throughout the next several months while she’s absent. Rebecca knows it’s impossible for her cock master of a husband to go without sex for so long, so she’s hired me to help keep him satisfied.

"Of course you will keep photos, you know, just in case," she says.

Standing, I pocket the check and put on my glasses.

"Yes, I will, but if it comes to that we’ll have to negotiate the additional cost of the photos."

Rebecca thinks this over and nods. Then I exit the café, stepping out into the noon sun. Stan has sent me a message: "Bet your pussy is still sore from my rod. Tonight I am going to do you till you beg and cry for me to stop. Be prepared."

Laughing, I tuck the phone into my bag. Men. I've always suspected that the man-on-top position was invented by some clever woman. A few minutes of bearing a man’s weight and you can fool them into anything—like the notion that they're actually in charge.

What a ridiculous idea. TC mark

How Buffy Saved Me In 2016

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 05:55 PM PST

Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Buffy The Vampire Slayer

"Strong is fighting. Its hard, and its painful, and its everyday."

Since the election, I've, honestly, been checked out. No news. No twitter. No sharing my anxieties and fears and frustrations online or face to face. (I've told many people of all the things I lost in this election, my morning NPR fix has been the most surprising and depressing.)

I went to a local organizing meeting and gave money to causes I care about, because those actions felt purposeful and tangible, but everything else, all other ways I've come to engage in justice work over the past four years, have been too painful. Too terrifying. Confronting the reality of our country right now sent me into a literal panic.

In all that free time, I've instead been watching 144 hours of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, a show I long-resisted watching for vague reasons related to not liking scary shows and thus thinking I'd be too afraid of creepy demons and bad special effects or that it was a show I was glad existed but one that wasn't "for me." I'd been told, for years, by two of my closest friends and my sister, whose TV taste, collectively, I trust more than anyone's, that I should watch it and would love it but had for about 10 years resisted. Because of that years long resistance, I am not sure what made me finally press play on Episode 1, "Welcome to the Hellmouth," the first week in December, but I did. And I haven't been able to stop. I careened through seven seasons in less than a month.

The reason why has been bubbling beneath the surface of my viewings and hit me in the gut upon watching the season 5 finale last week: Buffy has been a true catharsis for me this month. It has been unbelievably healing (and I mean this with all sincerity) to watch a petite blonde teenager (and then woman) beat up and triumph over tangible and defeat-able forces of evil, forces that could stand in for the oppressive forces of patriarchal control and weak, basic, human fear that are running roughshod over our country right now. I have been completely sucked in as I watch Buffy wrestle with the work she knows she has to do while also mourning what she loses in the process — love, connections to her friends, a normal high school and later college life, a sense of safety and security, her childhood.

But she has to, because she is the force that stands between our world and its total destruction. To quote her (spoiler alert) tombstone, she saves the word. A lot. At great personal sacrifice.

But she reminds us over and over again that this is the work that must be done. She reminds Angel, when he is about to give into the death he thinks he deserves, that it isn't strong to take yourself out of the equation to "help", that "strong is fighting. It's hard and its painful and its everyday." Buffy reminds her sister Dawn, as Buffy is about to make an unbelievable sacrifice, again, to save the world and Dawn, that Dawn must be the one to be brave and go on, because "the hardest thing in this world," is not to die, but, "to live in it."

I felt all of that this year— like it was all too much, like what I could do was too little and, in the end, wouldn't matter. That I was better off checking out — leaving the work to those with more power, more connections, more strength, that self-care needed to take over so I could go on with my life. But I know that wallowing in that place isn't strength. Yes, its necessary at times, to take a step-back, to take care of yourself, to assess where you could be most helpful, but what is most necessary is fighting, knowing it could cost you and pushing forward anyway to do what is right, to save the world from itself.

Buffy also reminded me, when I felt so powerless and alone in my grief, that the power to change the world is more powerful when it is shared. She pushes back against the oppressive forces who want to control and isolate her, who want her to feel that the weight of the world rests solely upon her shoulders, and she changes the rules. She ultimately shares her power, first with her friends, then with all the potential slayers of the world, when she realizes that she alone can't (or rather shouldn't have to) shoulder the burden alone, that the power to change the world rests in all of us if we work together to share the power we have and the burden of the struggles we face.

This all sounds very self-serious and potentially hyperbolic, but I honestly needed the reminder. Before the election, I was prepared to bask in the glow of history, of our changing world bending collectively towards justice. Now, I finally have come to accept that the next four years (at least) are going to require digging in when it feels too hard, giving up some comforts to stand up for what is right, and supporting and standing with one another, together. As one of my favorite Jewish teachings from the Pirkei Avot reminds us, "it is not upon [us] to finish the task [of repairing the world], nor are we free to desist from it." I cannot check out. I have a part to play.

I am actually thankful in this moment that past Amanda thought Buffy had nothing for her, because right now, what she has for me is what I needed reminding of most of all. TC mark

Dear Taylor Swift, When Will You Stop Being A Phony Feminist?

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 05:15 PM PST

Instagram / Taylor Swift
Instagram / Taylor Swift

Taylor, where are you? Are you okay?! Are you hurt? Legs broken? Vocal chord surgery? Brain transplant?!

Where could you possibly be that you weren't marching with your fellow women on Saturday?

Taylor, you have a voice and platform. You have millions of followers on social media— everything you do or say gets picked up by the press and the media and turned into a story. Every song you release is dissected to death. You leave your house for lunch and you get photographed by hundreds of paparazzi. You're on the cover of countless magazines, everything from Vogue to Tiger Beat (yes, it's still around) and your name is splashed around the world.

Little girls, adult women and everyone else in-between look up to you. You have the platform to influence, get ideas heard and spark social change. Yet, you stay quiet.

Very quiet.

We didn't hear from you much during the 2016 election. In hindsight (and as silly as it sounds) Hillary could have used your endorsement—or at least an endorsement from someone in your powerful shoes. 53% of white women voted for Trump—which, I can presume, is also the demographic of the majority of your fan base, as well as the individuals that you cater to the most.

You have privilege. Use it.

Or at least hire someone who knows how to help you use it. Because there are a lot of women out there who are turned off by the very idea of you and your brand of feminism.

You re-modeled your appearance and public image after the boy-crazy, breakup obsessed, romantic relationship loving-notion wasn't resonating with your fans. Fuck the damsel in distress look, you said, making it clear that that was your former, much more immature self; I rescue me now.

So you did. You wrote and sang songs about having fun with your girlfriends—going out, dancing, not thinking about those vicious men who scorned you in the past. You're no longer the victim of your life, you screamed—YOU make the decisions! You made sure that the public knew everything about your "girl squad," that oh-so-famous group of you and your good-looking gal pals, who do everything together, from baking cookies to frolicking in oceans on private islands.

You know, normal girl stuff. No longer did you walk red carpets with a man on your arm, but instead you brought along 8 to 10 of your closest #BFF's.

Because feminism, duh!

Oh and we can't forget all of those countless pictures you posted on social media, of you with your various famous friends – the #girlsquad—everyone from the likes of Blake Lively to various Victoria's Secret Models, to even well-known (albeit extremely random) actresses like Mariska Hargitay and Uzo Aduba.

Your brand of feminism is "all women should support each other." Which is great, don't get me wrong.

But, you say things that you desperately hope will make people believe you are a feminist, when your turn around and your actions then speak much louder and much differently.

Feminism is not about YOU, when you try so hard to make it out to be. You cannot pick and choose feminism when it is convenient for you. That's not how it works. You cannot pick feminism when it helps you win Grammys, sell millions of singles, tell the world you're now single and give passionate speeches about unnamed male bullies (cough *Kanye West* cough); and then not help feminism by speaking out against Donald Trump, speaking UP for Hillary Clinton, or marching and protesting against the likes of our new administration. You're a feminist phony. A pheminist.

Then, at 2:10pm PST on Saturday, January 21, you finally tweeted something regarding the woman's march:

Taylor, not only was this tweet published a full day after President Elect Donald Trump's inauguration and 75 days after election day, but it was more than half way through most West Coast marches, well after the East Coast marches had ended, and hours and hours after overseas marches and the marches of countries all over the world had ended, as well.

Why only join in at the end when you could have been a part of the fight? Why not protest with your fellow sisters?

Why not march with us side-by-side?

A photo of you holding a sign exclaiming "My Body, My Choice" or "Women's Rights = Human Rights" is a powerful image—and one we truly could have used.

Many of your peers chose to march, including Miley Cyrus, Ariana Grande and Katy Perry. Even if these women were marching for press, the point was that THEY MARCHED.

Little girls looking up to them saw pictures of their idols marching in the streets, and thought to themselves "Hey, I want to smash the patriarchy too." Did they say it quite as eloquently as that? Probably not. But what they most definitely thought was "It's cool to be a girl"—and that speaks volumes.

Taylor, you're choosing to exclude yourself from a narrative; one that we're very much asking you to be a part of.

You yourself famously said, "there's a special place in hell for women who don't help other women." Shall we start getting your room ready there, Ms. Swift? TC mark

Honestly, Sex Is Awesome (And Necessary)

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 05:00 PM PST


I tend to be the friend my friends call when there is a relationship problem. I am certainly unqualified to be a therapist, but I have studied gender and communication for several years. Basically I know enough to be dangerous. Any of my friends will tell you, if you call me because you are having a hard time with your partner, and are certain you don't love each other anymore, my response will always be the same:

When is the last time you slept with him?

Of course at this they snarl. "Sleep with him? I can't sleep with him." And then they go on to list a slew of reasons about why they couldn't possibly have sex with the man they live with. Once they finish, nearly teary eyed, I say the words they hope I have moved on from, "call me back after you start regularly sleeping with your partner."

And you want to know a secret? They rarely have to.

Sex is important. Of course sex alone isn't enough but it also cannot be overlooked. Whether you want to or not, your relationship needs it.

Trust me, I get it, watching Survivor in your underwear and eating double stuffed Oreo's is just as romantic a night to me as any. I have heard many women ask the questions, "does having sex actually matter when our relationship is based on such a deep level of friendship?" The short answer to that is, yes.

If it didn't matter, you wouldn't need a relationship.

Your best friend can hold you while you cry and binge on Netflix with a cup of Noosa (personal favorite). Your partner is supposed to be those things for you, and more. Since I hate trying to convince people of anything by my sheer opinion, let me tell you why I say this.

For starters, sex is the only thing that you share with your partner that you do not share with anyone else…I hope. I am a communications professor, so trust me on this, sex does require a level of communication that you literally cannot experience otherwise.

There is a certain level of trust and vulnerability that comes with the sexual experience that is bar none the more intimate emotional moment you can ever come across.

Think about the things you say to your partner during sexual intimacy. It's the only time in your life you are that vulnerable with someone, and the communication you use reflects it. And let's also dispel the popular myths; studies have shown that while television and movies may depict marriage as the old ball and chain where sex goes to die, it just isn't supported by the data.

On average, 61% of single people report not having sex in the last year while 25% of married couples say they still have sex 2-3x a week. This number is less than 5% when compared to single people. Married people also report having better sex than single people, and according to Dr. Laura Berman, married people even experience oral sex more than single people. Basically when it comes to married sex life vs. single sex life, it's no contest. Someone please alert high school boys.

So what do we do if our relationship is not in the 25% of couples who are having sex 2-3x a week? It's actually a better fix than one might think, you…just…do it? Experts all agree that the cure to craving more sex, is actually having more sex.

Regular sex increases your desire for sex.

The hormones you experience with your partner in sex will actually rewire your brain to want more, even if that desire was not initially there. If you wait till both of you are 'in the mood' you will probably watch a ship set sail. A sad ship. That feels alone and rejected. No one wants to be on that ship.

The problem with sex, is that human beings are hardwired to want it, and if you can't have sex with your partner, it is a painful reality that you may seek sex elsewhere. The actuality of the importance men place on sex is a stark one. Sex is extremely vital to how men show love. Research consistently shows that between 80 and 90% of men say that sex is the most important aspect of their marriage. He isn't being a pervert, it is literally part of how he shows you he loves you.

In a study by marriage experts Gary and Barbara Rosberg, it was found that the vast majority of married men, indicate that female initiation of sex is among their top sexual needs. He doesn't just want to be having sex with you, he wants to know that you want to be having sex with him. This is something women get wrong all the time. Men are actually pretty vulnerable, and they feel more masculine, when the woman they chose to spend their entire life with, still desires them. Remember that. It's not enough for you to just "let him have sex with you," he needs you to initiate sex. For most men, sex cannot be separated from love. So when you reject his sexual advances, you are rejecting love from him. For the average woman, talking, and laughing, and sharing emotional intimacy is how they feel loved. So you can see how so many couples have a problem.

One more piece of data I found interesting, even if your partner is not asking for sex, studies show that men who minimize the importance of sex in their relationships, do so out of past hurt or rejection, and are trying to prevent future pain.

For some of us, we may have found ourselves in a relationship with the 10-20% of men, who don't identify sex as a primary need. It's normal in relationships for one party to be less interested in the sexual provocation of the other party. Do it anyway.

Often women don't need sex to express love. The problem is, that your partner does. So you do it for him. Plus, the more you do it, the more you will start to want to do it. The benefits of sex include, better sleep, better intimacy, less stress, and even a better immune system. Sex is awesome, and you have a partner with whom you could enjoy the intimacy and deep connection that sex can bring.

So the next time you are eating those Oreo's, while watching your favorite episode of Law & Order, surprise him. Hit the pause button, and let him feel desired by you. Turns out, it will be pretty awesome. TC mark

I’m Slowly Learning To Just Let Things Be

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 04:00 PM PST

 Yanko Peyankov
Yanko Peyankov

I'm learning not to force things to happen.

I'm learning to just let them be, to let them align with my life when the time is right, to the let the universe bring them to me without having to run after them; because if you have to run after something, it means that it doesn't want to stand still, it doesn't want to be caught, it doesn't want to stop at your door. I'm trusting God that what's meant for me will eventually find me no matter where I am. I'm not going to be passive but I also won't fight a losing battle.

I'm learning to let love find me.

I'm learning to stop decoding messages and mixed signals and signs and wait for the clear message, the message that is so obvious and easy to understand, the message that doesn't make you question or second guess anything and the message that you're truly waiting for.

I'm learning to let those who don't want me in their lives go, I might even hold the door open for them because I don't want temporary visitors anymore, I don't want to share my bed with someone who doesn’t want to spend every night with me and I won't share my heart with someone who doesn’t want to protect it. I'm learning to let love find me when it's real, when it's simple, when it's mutual and when it's passionate.

I'm learning to be patient with myself.

I'm learning to take it easy on myself and my plans. I'm learning to be kind to myself when I slip-up and patient enough to make my dreams come true. I'm learning to forgive myself for my mistakes and let them be memories instead of labels. I'm learning to let these mistakes prove that I've tried for things that weren't right for me, that I didn't always play it safe, that I went for things I was unsure of and that I took chances.

I'm taking the wisdom I got from all these mistakes; the wisdom that taught me that mistakes often happen because we are forcing something that is not meant for us and we are trying to get something we probably shouldn't have.

I'm learning to stop trying so hard to control my life.

I'm learning that it is okay if I don't have all the answers or if I'm not where I want to be. I'm learning to let life take its course instead of trying to steer the wheel in another direction. I'm learning that I won't always get what I want but life will give me what I need. I'm learning to treat life as a friend; trying to understand it, trying to love it when it's being difficult, trying to accept it even when it's frustrating me and trying to appreciate the experiences it has provided me with, the memories it gave me, the laughter it brought me and the sadness it put me through just to grow.

I'm learning to let things be and I'm learning to look at life as a person; a person who is also still trying to figure it out, a person who is flawed and a person who wants to be better on most days but falls short on other days like everyone else. 

I'm learning to let the force of life move me instead of forcing it to stop. TC mark

Rania Naim is a poet and author of the new book All The Words I Should Have Said, available here.


What It Feels Like To Have An Eating Disorder In A Third World Country

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 03:27 PM PST

Unsplash, Henrique Félix
Unsplash, Henrique Félix

Eating disorders are considered to be a "western" disorder seen in realms that do not predominantly have food shortages. In penurious areas throughout the world, especially in my country, mental illness as a whole is either disregarded or relatively undisclosed to the population at large.

It's hard to recognize eating disorders in a third world country where medical services are so scarce that they can't even keep pace with the most pressing conditions. Plus, there’s the fact that most girls are naturally born petite.

Have you ever felt so hungry that your stomach starts to make noises? Have you ever sat in front of a piece of food, not wanting to tell anyone you can't eat it — not because it doesn’t taste good, but because the voices inside your head say you can't?

Have you ever felt like eating, but forced yourself not to, because you wouldn’t like the reflection you'd see after taking in those calories? Have you ever been terrified of weighing yourself and seeing the numbers increase?

When you finish the day without eating any calories, you can't wait to see the number on the scale decrease. But in my country, where you live with your parents, you have to let them see that you're actually eating. That’s why you have to double your effort in hiding your disorder.

People will still notice the changes in your body, though. They'll start to comment on how thin-as-rake you've become. They'll tell you to eat more and you'll instantly put up a happy mask and nod.

Because studying is everything in my country, they’ll think that it was the main cause of your weight loss. Sometimes, people will tell you how prepossessing you look and will even applaud you for having such self-discipline in maintaining your body.

You can't tell your friends and you can't even admit to yourself that you have an eating disorder, because please, how selfish could you be when half of your population is starving?

How can you seek help for an eating disorder when people in your country barely know what that actually is?

Now, imagine being in a famine-torn place and needing to seek help because you have been bingeing and purging. Can you imagine that shame when everyone else around you was battling hunger and literally killing in order to get some food in their mouth to fill the ravenously hungry feeling? How do you ask help for that?

It makes you feel even worse for having such a disorder in a country where people won't even let a single piece of rice fall on the ground. The guilt will eat you up.

You’ll feel bad about how much food you waste by purging in a country where there are children in the streets begging for food to eat and wishing they had the food that you have. So instead of seeking help, you shut other people out and you let the disorder consume you.

So yes, eating disorders do exist in a 3rd world countries. They just aren't as familiar and not addressed the way they are in the 1st world countries.

But hopefully, one day, that recognition and help will reach this side of the world. TC mark 

I Will Never Understand Women Who Won’t Stand Up For Other Women

Posted: 23 Jan 2017 03:27 PM PST

Flickr / Kathy Drasky
Flickr / Kathy Drasky

In the midst of an already divided nation, the country, and the world came together in an act of love, support, and defiance known as the Women's March. In an incredibly display of understanding and togetherness, speaking to how deeply connected not only every woman, but every human is, millions of bodies came together on every continent to march not only for their own ideals, but for the ideal of others.

This was perhaps the most truly beautiful thing about the march, everybody involved in the march, and everybody living vicariously through IG feeds, live cams, and phone calls. Each person, regardless of color, background, religion, etc. did have their own agenda they were marching for.

Some were worried for their reproductive rights. Others worried for their children's education. Many wanted equal pay and the abolishment of the Pink Tax. So many women marched for general equality spanning across the barrier that seems to divide, not only genders today, but races, religions, and socioeconomic statuses. Everybody cared about themselves, but they also cared about each other, and this remarkable.

While remarkable it may be, I did find myself in the midst of watching these events unfold (on my IG timeline unfortunately, a fact I am still slightly bitter about. Thank you epilepsy) that a display of support such as this was considered remarkable. Why was this not common place? I do not mean hundreds of thousands of women (men, as well), taking over entire cities, but just the general understanding that we are in this life together and because of that must stick up for one another?

Of course, my question was answered almost immediately thanks to the obstinate presence in my life that has become social media. The displays of acceptance and support I saw were quickly taken over by accounts calling the march a march for lesbians, ugly women who couldn't find anybody willing to rape them, and men threatened by women assembling to gain equal human rights.

Now, when men do this I sort of expect it now. Honestly, I'm preparing myself for the words before they're even out, which I realize is shitty because not all men are the same, but SO FUCKING MANY DO THIS that its difficult not to just assume after a certain point.

I understand to those in power, or men who think they are in control, an assembly so large could shake them right down to their bitter core, but to think it would wrench away their masculinity is absurd. Regardless, when men do it, I can actually understand more than when women are against one another. And boy was there women against this march.

I'm fine with women not participating, or being against the march. I'm not fine with some women making negative comments about those involved in the march, however, based simply on the statements like, "real women should be happy at home with their families," or, "These fat skanks don't speak for me."

While these are nasty comments, for nasty women (See what I did their ladies), what I saw most were comments generally saying a march didn't need to take place at all because it was being held by over-privileged brats with too much at their advantage; the real marches should be taking place in areas where women had no privilege.

This is complicated. After rapid-cycling through various stages of confusion over these comments, my only real thought was, "It has to start somewhere," followed by, "Some of these women absolutely do not have the same advantages of others and, quite frankly, shut the fuck up."

It saddened me, greatly, when I realized most of these, "get these privileged brats off the streets," comments were from white women. Because of course they were. If a group of women was going to be the best-off in the U.S. it would be us. Certain groups of women had more privilege than others. Okay. And some women were calling the march and everybody involved a charade because of this, totally missing the point.

These wonderful, smart, strong, beautiful women recognized some of them had more or less privilege than those standing next to them, and that was THE FUCKING POINT. I have something you don't, but you need it. Let me help you get it, sister. You don't need this thing now, but you may one day. Let's secure that right for everybody right now, together.


It appeared women calling anybody marching a fat skank who couldn't find a boyfriend were not only missing the point, but apparently the most privileged of all.

I am happy for women who have never worried about how to afford an expensive box of tampons they need. It's great if they've never been raped, only to face their accuser and be treated like they had done something wrong. It was clear none of these women had ever struggled to afford birth control, or been in a position to need an abortion, by rape, incest, or any other way. Healthcare was not a luxury to them, but a given. They were healthy women with nothing to worry about. And that is really wonderful.

It's unfortunate they didn't want to join, we could have used loud, strong, healthy voices like that assuming they understood the purpose of the march. However, if they didn't, they didn't. More power to them. I still don't see the need to sling dirty words at an event that you insist is pointless and, therefore, will never have an impact on you.

I do not understand the division between women and I never will. My younger self might, because my younger self thought most women were against each other because that's just how women were. That's actually how girls unwilling to get to know other girls are. Women willing to look into the minds of other women are accepting as hell. They're tolerant, supportive, creative, radiant souls that are too good for this world. But they were here and they were marching despite what anybody else had to say.

Despite every hateful thing I've said myself, despite the negativity surrounding recent political events, and despite the depression that set in most of last year, I'd just like to personally thank everybody in attendance at those marches for lifting what I thought were unshakably low spirits. The sun will rise, things will change, and eventually equality will be achieved. TC mark