I have a boyfriend of 3 months and am not happy. I try to break-up with him, but every time he cries and whines that he’ll do better. He’s a bad liar and a cheap date. How should I break up with him?
Pick up the phone. Dial his number. When he answers, say the following:
“Hey asshole, we are broken up. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Lose my fucking number.”
That’s it. You’re done.
Hang up the phone.
Ignore him.
I recently started talking with a guy who is into bloodlust. messy, bloody, cutting, sex. I never understood it before, but the way he talks about it makes me melt. I want to give it a try, but it makes me a little nervous. I feel like I should take this opportunity because I know that it is a rare one. Think I should go for it?
Fine. Experiment with bloodplay. Whatever.
Silly little vampire fangirls and your predictable sexual confusion. I suppose if Edward takes a shit on Bella’s chest in the next Twilight novel, you’ll also be wanting tips on how to film a homemade version of 2 Girls 1 Cup.
Do what you like, sweetie. Just know that when you move beyond entry-level bodily fluids during sex, clean-up can get awkward and very unpleasant.
I’ve found myself dating a woman who does not party and isn’t terribly friendly to the ideals of those who like to get down. Do you think this kind of thing can work out long term?
Sure. Especially in the long term, because after a while you won’t even notice that your balls are missing.
The trick is ignoring the pain of your castration in the short term.
Aside from drugs and sex what activities would you recommend for a girl in her twenties with an interest in mind-expansion?
Get a passport. Use it as often as possible. Read. Books, that is. Ones without pictures. Surround yourself with brilliant and fascinating people. Say yes whenever you can, except to religion and authority. Create things. Fall in and out of love. Never forget that you will die one day.
what are your tips for a perfect pussy, without waxing? i ask you because i feel like you would know.
You have to be clean. More than that. You have to want to be clean. All the time.
Shave everything. I use a man razor. A fucking Mach3 Turbo. Fuck that Venus shit, and don’t even talk to me about disposable razors.
Use lotion. Never be without lotion. Keep it with you at all times. You carry chapstick, don’t you? Those aren’t the only lips you need to keep moisturized. If you’re curious about my situation, I’ve got a tube of Love Shack by Gap Body in my purse right now.
If you’re partying, pay special attention to your pussy. Your body excretes all kinds of funky chemicals when you do drugs, none of which enhance flavor or aroma. Again, lotion is a must.
Shower whenever you can. Change your underwear whenever you can. Keep that shit fresh. Never go out without a spare pair at the ready. In fact, you can’t ever leave the house thinking your not going to get some. You never know.
hi, there. this is going to be a little hard for me to write out, but here goes. i was with this guy for about a year, and out of the blue, he breaks up for me. sure, i was broken hearted, but that i could learn to get over. about a month or so later, i had to abort the child my doctor told me i was likely to miscarry. i hold on to feelings of my ex, but i think it’s only because the thought of losing child always brings me back to him, to happier times. i talk to him on occasion, and he is friendly enough, because he knows. but i’m still in love with him. what should i do?
Oh, please. This is a carefully crafted story designed to suck sympathy out of everyone who hears it. I can spot drama queens like you a mile away, and I’m calling bullshit on your pity party.
You got knocked up. Your boyfriend broke up with you. You got an abortion. That’s the chain of events.
Of course, with girls like you nothing’s ever your fault. You’re never accountable for your own decisions and everything comes from out of the blue, so naturally this is all some romantic tribulation.
You want to know what to do? Well for starters, quit characterizing your abortion as an extrinsic manifestation of your failed relationship. That’s an incredibly unhealthy way to process the psychological trauma of terminating a pregnancy.
Next, quit romanticizing the past. It prevents an honest evaluation of what went wrong and cripples your ability to move on.
Finally, accept some responsibility for the choices you make and do everything in your power to fight off a victim mentality.
Ok, so I’ve done drugs before. I’m not necessarily naive. I’ve had lots of fun doing K, E, and blow for a long time now but for fear of sounding lame I feel like taking my drug habit a bit more legit. How do I go about getting Oxycontin or Dexedrin or something along those lines?
No, no, no. Just because a doctor writes you a note, it doesn’t make getting high legitimate. Don’t fucking kid yourself. Oxycontin and Dexedrin are just smack and speed with a college degree.
If you think your choices are any more appropriate because your dealer works at Walgreens, you are missing the point.
If you’re an adult who understands personal responsibility, feel free to get fucked up and accept the consequences. Trying to shift that responsibility to a pharmaceutical company is bullshit.
A drug is a drug is a drug. Pretending that an addiction is okay because your health insurance covers prescriptions is the worst kind of hypocrisy.
(Just to be clear, my reaction here is based on two words that are red flags: “habit” and “legit.” If you were just talking about experimenting with something new, my answer would have been completely different.)
You wouldn’t happen to know how long after a nose job you can do coke again would you?
Hardcore bitches don’t even remove the gauze.
I just wanted to say thank you for writing dearcoketalk. Yes, it’s maybe what I spent the majority of last night doing… but fuck, it was good. I’ve never done coke before, but when I read your writing, I feel like I’m doing lines of high-quality blow. I get this subtle rush that edges in and realize fuckyeah, life is awesome. Having only done methylone and some psychedelics, I’m only a baby on the drug scene (and only recently started reading up on erowid.) However, from reading your writing, I can tell that coke has quiet effect that sneaks up on you; it covers you and gives you this comfortable yet much needed kick in the ass. I don’t think I’m disciplined enough to actually do coke in real life (I’d get addicted so quickly and become an abuser instead of a user), but I’ll sustain myself with your writing until I can gain self control.
When I read your writing, I remember that there’s this gigantic world out there, so many shiny things to fuck with, and so much shit I can leave my bloody fingerprints all over. I curse more. I think “so what if that happens? At least I did it!” more. I remember what it’s like to be bold and ballsy. I don’t mean all of this in a carpe diem sense, but in a “I’m a thinking person who is fucking ALIVE and can DO STUFF.” Not only do I have thoughts but also I have actions. Those two together are a powerful combination. I know I’m being a bit Captain Obvious right now, but sometimes, the daily grind of life makes me forget that and it’s nice being reminded.
No, I wouldn’t live by your philosophy with 100% purity, but reading your tumblrs makes me realize how much of a pussy cat I’ve been. I’m turning 21 soon and as I look back on 20, I think wow, what an unremarkable year. Yes, it was a good year, but what did I learn? Did I even feel anything? Am definitely going to imbibe some coketalk into 21. I want one or two fearless stories that would make coketalk proud. And I want to read more books and do more shit and just be fucking alive. Not alive in a reckless teenager way but in a thoughtful manner in which I can look back and be proud of.
So thank you for writing again. Reading your entries is like the kick in the ass I need to remember that this is my life and I should grab it by the balls and fuck there’s so much out there to be done. You’re not exactly my role model, but fuck, your writing inspires me to go do shit and be more exciting. Again, the best way I can describe it…. is that it’s like doing coke. Thank you thank you thank you and please keep writing.
Consider yourself lucky. You’re about to spend your twenties in a century entering its teens.
This past decade was a cultural wasteland devoid of any significant artistic or technological breakthrough, a mini dark ages begging for renaissance.
For ten fucking years, our entire country missed the point. We were supposed to eat, drink, and be merry. Instead, everyone got fat, hungover, and riddled with anxiety.
A few of us pagans managed to carry the torch, lit with chemicals and fuck all, and we can’t wait to see what you kids do when we hand it off, because we know you’re ready, and we can taste the impending social revolution like metal in our mouths.
It’s time to have fun again. It’s time for a new school. It’s time for some god damned vision, because something big is coming, and if we’re lucky it won’t be a world war.
It’s as if this country’s fate and culture are hot blooded lovers poised on the verge of an outburst, ready to tear each other apart, and neither one knows whether it will be fighting or fucking.
Either way, some furniture is getting broken.
Exciting times ahead.
My boyfriend has a ridiculously long endurance when it comes to oral sex. How do I make him cum faster?
While you work the shaft, have another girl lick his balls.