Pardon me, I think I’m becoming a California quasi hippy in the brain despite years in New York and in London. So, yeah, planets, valentine’s, masturbation, the weather and shit…
Ah, February – when sexually active people inflicted with the Western plague that is “Valentine’s Day”. The gifts you’re supposed to buy your beloved already lined the shelves as soon as Xmas was over. Forlorn boys and girls wonder if their seasonal snuzzler can be converted into their mid-February flame to be emblazoned upon their memories. It works in NYC sometimes since the weather is relatively still cold and people stay in the mode for a bit longer. It all depends on Punxsutawney Phil. This is my theory that your sex life in the early part of the year is determined by a groundhog, so who wants to do an actual scientific study on this for me? In LA, it’s 80 degrees F, “F” as in warm enough to see people wearing next to nothing and easy enough to find someone new to fuck. When you have no seasons- do people really come into your life “for a season or a reason”?
As for me, I’ll be filming a horror short film- preserving what Valentine’s Day is really about- a massacre. I just like history better than hysterical and the choices on the apps ain’t been so hot lately. Love. Blood. Death.
Personal friend news this week: With the coming of the recent triple moon transit of Jupiter of late January which won’t happen again until 2032, I get told some interesting things. My lawyer friend is knocked up with twins by an artist. My friend who says she ran out of people on Tinder is flying from LA to NYC for Valentine’s Day with her old college flame who lives out of town. By 2032… 18 years from now. My friend’s twins will be in fucking college. Will sex be obsolete by then? Kids, don’t you know that masturbating will never go out of style, no matter how much the church tells you? Another friend is flying up the West Coast to hook up with an old friend of her ex. WTF.
What this Mercury retrograde that also started in late January has brought me- some guy friends, who text me on the weekends- no hanky panky though, k? Just got propositioned by guy friend of ten years and offered to be flown up the coast to hang out with another one (who coincidentally is friend of one of my exes). I’m declining these offers. This is what a sex/love based holiday does to people. I’m staying immune, damnit. No fall backs for your columnist, no moving the lines of the friendzones in the Pacific sand (+ I’ve got film pre-production to do, people. I can’t take time off to help my friends get off). New people I’d hook up with communication? Null. Ain’t it the way? Why? Because you can’t start hooking up with someone before V-day? Why? Because they might get the wrong idea. This is another way American made up holidays restrict American sexual freedom.
Next up: St. Patty’s. Random hook-ups permissible and more accepted. It’s an Irish holiday though, so point for Europeans really.
Hollywood news this week: Patrick Dempsey and “his wife” (name?) are getting a divorce. Mandy Moore and Ryan Adams are getting a divorce. This stuff is uber public, but you know what’s not allowed to be? Women and various non-conventional (ie. He puts it in her) ways of doing it.
Why does Hollywood just love to hide the truth about the most interesting parts of female sexuality? Tampon scene cut from 50 Shades. And they cut the Evan Rachel Wood beating off scene cut from Charlie Countryman. Blood Sugar (make sure they’re level). Sex. Magik. Add some Red Hot Chili Peppers, not the luke warm frienzone variety. Spice it up.
Americans, stop worrying about sizes of things- go have more sex. American men worry about penis size. Women don’t so much- did you guys not learn anything about the “motion of the ocean” and all?
Women worry about butt size. Seems by google searches- men like big butts more and more in the US.
Why are Americans so angsty about sex? Maybe because they’re still scared of naked people art. Europeans have had extra centuries of naked people in art. And we’re not allowed to see certain things in American movies. That’s just another theory of mine.
Good luck to all. Tell me your tales of Valentine’s lust or of Valentine’s woe. Get over your parts. Take part in something you need to do more of because life is too short. Take it out, put it in. Repeat while the planets spin. No more just lip service.
Cornelia grew up in the wooded lands of The Blair Witch and the times of the nineties. She's learning the trials and tribulations of phone app dating on the dirty streets of Downtown Los Angeles, whilst making sure Hollywood stays Satanic and playing the theremin.
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