Quartier Pigalle is a fabulously seedy part of Paris around the Place Pigalle, on the border between the 9th and 18th arrondissements. Named after the sculptor Jean-Baptiste Pigalle, the neighborhood’s raunchy reputation led to its World War II nickname of “Pig Alley” by allied soldiers. Artists like Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, Pablo Picasso, and Vincent van Gogh have also been attracted to this neighborhood, no doubt drawing a wealth of inspiration from it’s colourful inhabitants.

Today Pigalle is an eclectic mix of sex shops, peep shows and pizza joints. It’s also home to the most famous cabaret on the planet, the Moulin Rouge. I’ve been to Paris a few times before and always assumed the show would be geared towards tourists but I was finally charmed by the flaming red facade and iconic windmill, so I snagged a ticket to see for myself.

The club is still adorned with decor reminiscent of turn-of-the-20th-century France. The moment I entered the lobby I imagined how deliciously glamourous it must have been to be there in its heyday. Once nicknamed “The First Palace of Women,” the show certainly exemplified this sentiment. The costumes, the stunts, and the dancers delighted for over two hours while my champagne glass seemed bottomless. The majority of the crowd was indeed made up of tourists looking for a thrill, but don’t let that deter you as it truly is a great show.

Another site not to be missed while exploring Pigalle and Montmartre is the Musée de l’érotisme, commonly known among Anglos as the Paris Sex Museum. A salacious mix of contemporary, popular and ancient art, visitors are subject to some of most honest representations of sexuality and human nature. As I meandered through each section, sharing bashful stares and flushed cheeks with my fellow erotics, I had to compose myself and not appear to gawk at some of the pieces. I loved the sacred art exhibit as many of the artifacts suggested a link between sex and religion, which as we know, is quite the opposite today. Some of the imagery captured of 19th-century brothels was mesmerizing while the contemporary art was a bit more kitschy. Pussy on a platter anyone? I think I spent the same amount of time exploring the Musée de l’érotisme as I did the Louvre! As any good sex blogger would.

Next time you’re in Paris — even if it’s your first time — don’t get caught in the crowds along the Champs-Élysées or lost in a lineup to go up the tower. Instead, explore the mysterious streets of Montmartre and Pigalle for a sexier perspective of Europe’s most romantic city.

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I love film festing in Vancouver. We’re really fortunate to have such a diverse representation of films from across the globe screen at our festival, and once again VIFF staff and volunteers have put together an incredible program. If you haven’t snagged your tickets yet, visit www.viff.org to purchase online (which I highly recommend — why wait in line?).

After rushing home from the office to primp and prep for my packed evening ahead, I hoofed it to Granville to catch the red-carpet arrival of Deepa Mehta for the gala screening of her film Midnight’s Children at the Vogue Theatre. Looking stunning in an embellished green salwar kameez, she arrived with producer David Hamilton, Satya Bhabha (who plays the lead in the film) and local rising star Anita Majumdar.

I squished my way through the cluster of photogs to get a few pics, then dashed across the street to Empire Theatre for the world premiere screening of Griot, Volker Goetze’s documentary introducing audiences to Goetze’s soulful trumpet stylings and the extraordinary voice and calabash harp artistry of Ablaye Cissoko. If you missed the film, Goetze and Cissoko are performing a special live concert at 9 p.m. at the Vogue. Tickets are still available.

Post film, I stopped to have a few drinks catch my breath with some fellow festival-goers, before heading home for another quick wardrobe change. After squeezing my bootie into some leather pants, strapping on my heels and powdering my nose, I made my way to the Salt Building in the Olympic Village for the gala party. What a sight to behold.

VIFF aptly chose a South Asian theme to celebrate the opening gala — a wonderful homage to the film that officially kicked off the festival. The room was decked out in vibrant colours, which matched the ultra-colourful crowd. Guests were treated to live Indian and traditional music, bhangra dancers and delicious Indian fare. I felt like I was in the middle of a Bollywood dance sequence … except with Vancouver socialites and vodka cocktails.

While mingling through the crowd with fellow Province blogger Sandra O’Connell, I spotted Ablaye Cissoko from Griot, so I stopped to congratulate him on the film. He was such a lovely, gracious guy and completely glued to the musicians’ set. If you get a chance to see the film, you won’t come across many musicians as passionate about their music and artistry as Cissoko.

After a few more photo ops and one last unnecessary glass of wine, I tucked my leather-clad self into a cab. VIFF is known for putting on some pretty wild parties, and this year did not disappoint.

Midnight’s Children screens again on Oct. 3 at the Vogue Theatre. For more on VIFF, follow my film reviews at urbancowgirlvancouver.com

I’ve never considered myself to be a pretty girl. I’ve had men tell me that I was sexy or attractive but I can’t say the word “pretty” has ever been uttered by someone I’ve dated. There was a time where I envied the pretty girls. I’ve always had a lot of male friends and in some circles behaved like one of the guys, so being thought of as feminine or someone you’d bring home to mom was always a bit of a stretch. Until recently…

Luckily, my male friends have offered me unrestricted access into the male psyche. For example, one little gem that has always fascinated me is the notion that there are girls whom you bring home to mom, and there are girls with whom you just fuck. What is it about a woman’s appearance that determines which category she falls into? Are we reverting to the Madonna-whore complex or is it something else?

I’ve sat and watched in awe as an otherwise unassuming girl has waltzed into a bar, commanding the attention of every man who looks her way. Not in an overbearing, tits out kind of way, but a subtle and welcoming allure that men can’t seemingly resist. Now enter the most drop dead gorgeous girl in the joint, but for some reason she sits with her harem of otherworldly beauties without attracting so much as a few stares. Are men intimidated? Or, could it be that most men are out on the town looking for that girl whom you just fuck?

I say neither. There are two factors attributing to the pretty versus sexy girl theory. The first is simply that some girls have a natural ability to flirt and engage men, while others don’t. The second is that some of us have to learn how to appear open and approachable. Some girls smell like sex while others are reminiscent of Sunday dinner at mom and dads. For those of you who fall under the latter of these two categories, here’s a few tips to consider…

Make eye contact – don’t perch at the bar and play coy all night. If you’re sincerely out on the town to meet men, and someone throws you a friendly gaze over a glass of bourbon, meet their gaze and flash them a smile.

Be fearless — if your intention is to meet new people, don’t sit in a corner table with your friends all night. Walk the room. Engage a complete stranger in conversation. Think of something completely non-sexual and creative to say. Take them off guard!

Prove the Vancouver girl stigma wrong — nothing pisses me off more than hearing how there are no men in this town. Fuck that noise, ladies, stop getting all dolled up and strutting down Water Street if you have no intention of attracting the opposite sex. You quite clearly are trying to be noticed, so when you are, don’t act surprised or annoyed. Give the guy a chance!

Don’t take yourself too seriously – despite our best efforts, we all strike out sometimes. Don’t let this discourage you. It’s better to take a chance than to stand by the wayside wondering what would have happened had you the courage to approach that cute boy you can’t get out of your head.

What do you think, fellas? Do you prefer the pretty girls or are you forever chasing sexy?  Would you say my theory is spot on, or am I full of shit? Post a comment below or tweet me @urbancowgirl

Image source: ClintJCL

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Never have I dropped trou in front a guy to have him reject or ridicule me. I have a decent rack and I take good care of myself, but by no means do I have what society might call the perfect bod. Not even close. One thing I’ve observed over the years is that it doesn’t matter how banging your bod is, it really comes down to confidence.

I’ve come across girls with the most gorgeous of forms who, for some reason, are terrified to bare their bods in front of men. You know what I’m talking about, ladies, the girls we love to hate. Long legs, perky boobs, a great ass. Women who have been so blessed by the beauty gods they must never feel insecure or unsure of their appearance. Yet for some of these blessed beings, baring it all to the opposite sex is a terrifying task. So what gives?

I’m willing to wager that 50% of a woman’s allure is attributed to her confidence and a fearless sense of sexuality. She could be the best-looking girl in the bar, but if she doesn’t have an edge, a sense of humor, or the capability of keeping up with a conversation that exceeds 2 minutes, are men still going to pursue her? Some men will, for sure, if they’re interested in exiting the bar with nothing but a bit of arm candy. But the boys worth dating aren’t going to care how small your waist is or what size your jeans are.

In surveying a few of my male friends, not one could recall a time where they were disappointed having a naked woman standing before them. It’s completely primal. What man in his right mind is going to turn away a woman who confidently emerges from the powder room to stroll across the living room naked? What guy is going to be turned off by a woman who sends sexy pics via text or prepares a few cocktails in nothing but her birthday suit? I doubt many of these men exist.

So ladies, if you think you need to hit another hot yoga class before a guy will notice you, think again. Be bold, be confident and be fearless when it comes to meeting new people. A girl with confidence is far sexier than a model-esque stick figure with no soul.

Images source: emersonquinn

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In today’s digital age, the opportunity to connect with new people has increased tenfold. All one has to do is pick up a smartphone, scan their Twitter feed and flirt with the first person who tickles their fancy. It’s just so easy and accessible. Let me give you a scenario. If you’re married and sending private messages (DMs for the Twitter heads out there) telling someone how attractive they are or how you fantasize about how they’d be in bed, is that considered cheating? If you’re in a relationship and send a flirtatious, yet innocent, text to someone telling them that you fancy them, is this an acceptable practice? In my humble opinion, if you can’t share these DMs or text messages with your partner, then you’re hiding something, thus on your way to Cheat Town.

Another excuse I’ve heard often concerning infidelity, is the drunken hookup. You’re out, at the bar, your guy hasn’t given you much attention as of late but the boy giving you eyes at the bar is satisfying your need for affection. One thing leads to another, and you find yourself in bed with another man. However, booze was involved – and lot’s of it – so is this still considered cheating? Did alcohol fuel a poor decision that deserves consideration? Booze or not, we were all born with a little something called will power. It’s your choice, should you choose to employ it.

Given I’m about to tie the knot, infidelity is something I think about. If either of us were to be lead astray, would that be the ultimate demise of our relationship? Or would it depend on the circumstance in which said cheating took place? Given the time, love and effort we’ve put into our relationship, couldn’t a drunken slip up be forgiven? Maybe. Is some flirtatious tweeting cause for divorce? Probably not. From my perspective and experience, emotional cheating is usually deemed more harmful than a physical act. If my partner came to me and said he snogged another woman but it meant nothing, this may be something we could work through. If he said he had feelings for someone else, but hadn’t yet acted on it, this would probably mean the beginning of the end. However, until you’re faced with the reality, it’s tough to say how you’d react.

What do you think? Are there loopholes where infidelity is concerned, or is it pretty cut and dry? Post a comment or shoot me a tweet @urbancowgirl

Image source: Brigham Brown

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Inhibitions tossed aside, you maneuver your way through drunken douche bags and burn-outs until you’re standing eye-to-eye, face-to-face. Then, right there, in the middle of perfect chaos you kiss…and the asshole who accidentally poured his beer on you somehow doesn’t matter. Somehow, he fades away, because in that moment, you’re free.

If the last two paragraphs resonate with you at all, you’ve a) dabbled in substances b) are high on life, c) have attended LIVE at Squamish, or d) all of the above. If none of this is making sense, but you’re dying to know what I’m on about, consider taking a short trip north of the city this weekend for a festival like no other.

The LIVE at Squamish music festival kicks off tomorrow, in the most picturesque setting in the province – my hometown. Squamish, or Squatamala as I affectionately call it, is the perfect backdrop for this 3-day music spectacle. It’s also the perfect setting for a festival hookup. Where else can you breathe the mountain air while grooving in a field to bands like the Tragically Hip, Wintersleep, The Sheepdogs and City and Colour, just to name a few? The LIVE at Squamish festival also attracts an exceptionally attractive crowd. So as your resident ‘sexy time’ girl here at The Province blogs, I offer you some helpful tips towards hooking up at LIVE at Squamish:

1. Don’t dismiss a guy for wearing skinny jeans. You are at an outdoor music festival, after all. Hipsters are abound. Embrace them.
2. Make sure you pack protection (condoms…and sunscreen).
3. Don’t forego hygiene. Just because you’re camping, doesn’t mean you can’t brush your teeth and sport a clean pair of knickers (fellas, I’m looking at you).
4. Be discrete. Outdoor sex is sensational, but in the age of smartphones and social media, you don’t want your festival sexcapades splashed across someone’s Tumblr the next morning.
5. Don’t poo-poo public displays of affection. It’s a festival. Enjoy nature. FREE LOVE.
6. Be safe and have fun.

I’ll be covering LIVE at Squamish for UrbanCowgirlVancouver.com, so watch for me, possums – I’ll be the gal going gaga for Dallas Green, sporting an Alexisonfire shirt and dancing in the crowd.

LIVE at Squamish starts tomorrow and runs through Sunday (early Monday) in beautiful Squamish, BC. Tickets are still available. Check out their website for more details.

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In a previous post I explored anal intercourse from a female perspective, offering some tips to help my ladies prepare mentally and physically. Something that has no doubt been analyzed, scrutinized and written about by sex bloggers the world over. But what about the men? What about all the straight men out there who are curious about employing the use of butt plugs and anal beads? Don’t be shy,  fellas, you know who you are…

A male friend of mine approached me and begged me to blog about this topic following a guys-only trip to Vegas. He told me how he spoke quite openly about butt play and the other guys were not at all onboard. He tried to convince his friends to be open, explaining that it’s not gay, it’s just kinky, the best way any straight guy could. They still weren’t buying it. Unfortunately for these unevolved homophobes, they’re missing out. It’s not uncommon for a man to achieve climax from prostate stimulation alone. So one could argue that these guys are only achieving 50% of their orgasm potential.

Some men, on the other hand, are highly evolved when it comes to anal antics. In some cases a little too evolved. A gal pal of mine was recently complaining about a lover who wanted her to take him to Tukus Town. Tukuslingus is a topic that requires a post unto itself, but let’s ask ourselves, ladies: Is it really unreasonable for a guy to get us to lick his asshole? If he has good hygiene, I don’t see why we would turn a guy down. But that’s just it with sex, isn’t it? Everyone has their soft limits and their hard limits. In this case, tukuslingus was definitely a hard limit my friend wasn’t willing to forego.

Personally, my experience with butt play has always garnered positive results. Some men are a little taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of a butt plug and lube, but if they’re open most men realize the rewards quite quickly.

So fellas – are you open and willing to go down this path with your partner, or are you happy with your status quo O? Post a comment or tweet me @urbancowgirl

Image source: Dr John2005

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There seems to be a stigma these days around the wedding night romp. Most couples consummate their relationship after the first few dates, never mind waiting until you walk down the aisle. Which made me wonder…how many people are actually getting it on the night of their wedding? All too often we hear of couples being too drunk or too exhausted to perform post-nuptials, so I surveyed a group of my married friends and colleagues and this is what they said…

Nada

“After the wedding, we stopped at home to grab our luggage en route to the airport. I remember he had this fantasy of doing it with my dress still on but we were rushed so it didn’t end up happening.”

“We were tired, but we still tried. Bit of a no go as it was painful for her. It was her first time.”

No dice, but morning sex prevailed

“We are a statistic, I’m afraid! We were so tired from the day’s festivities that we collapsed into bed the minute we got to our hotel. We consumated our marriage in the morning and it was awesome!”

“HECK NO! There was no sex on my wedding night! We wed in Mexico and after drinking all day and night, around 3am I literally crawled out of the elevator to return to our newlywed hotel suite in my filthy wedding dress still clutching our personalized tequila bottles. My bridesmaid had to carry me to my room, change me into my pj’s and remove all the bobby pins from my head (god bless her!) But not all was lost…we woke the next morning and made sweet, sweet married love!”

Sealed the deal

“We totally did it, with my dress still on, nice and drunk. Mostly because we felt like it was the right thing to do. But not before I had my groom walk through the A&W drive-thru for a couple of baby burgers with cheese. The limo wouldn’t fit.”

“We did it, in spite of being tired…and downing one last bottle of wine in the bathtub at the hotel. I do recommend the wedding night romp.”

Wedding night with…kids?

“My son was with us on our honeymoon night as we were all flying out the next morning, and yes my son joined us on our honeymoon. We had to constantly sneak quick quiet shags! We even left him in the pool alone, thankfully he didn’t drown!”

“We didnt have a typical wedding. We got married in Hawaii, and it was just me, my fiancé and our son. To be honest, I can’t remember if we “wrestled” that night. It’s our code word in front of the kids. Shit, I really can’t remember if we actually had sex on our wedding night. When we did have sex it was great, but not mind-blowing.”

Based on my findings it’s fair to say that wedding night sex is, in most cases, unachievable…unless you’re a sexual deviant with the stamina of a porn star. It’s not surprising most people don’t hit it after a full day of family, feasting and photographers up in your grill. Either way, I’m happy to report that people are still trying to seal the deal on their wedding night and it would seem the tradition of marital consummation lives on.

Did you have sex on your wedding night? Were you hanging from the rafters or did you decide to tap out? Post a comment or tweet me @urbancowgirl

Image source: yago1.com

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A Book: of Sex and Little Else

Written by Vancouver-based author and filmmaker Danielle Cousineau, this book had me hooked from page one. I first met Danielle in 2010 when I interviewed her for Urban Cowgirl on her short film Tell Me, which screened during the 2010 Cannes Film Festival. Since then, she has come out with her first book, a nonfiction memoir that chronicles her colorfully unorthodox life. When Danielle first sent me her book, I found it a bit odd that a 20-something would already be penning a memoir. But this Alberta-born transplant has overcome some incredible setbacks and engaged in some rather torrid affairs. One tryst takes place between she and a prominent Vancouver public figure, the identity of which she carefully does not disclose. It’s a coming-of-age tale, full of – you guessed it – sex, but also love, relationships, and life lessons all delivered in Danielle’s honest and sometimes self-deprecating style. There were moments where I was laughing out loud, and others where I was gasping in shock. You can pick up a copy of Danielle’s book at Amazon.ca

Fifty Shades of Grey

I know that this couldn’t be more cliche, but I’m half way through this best seller and I can see what all the fuss is about. No, E L James is not a literary genius, and yes, this is the trashiest novel I’ve ever laid eyes on, but no one can deny its entertainment value. James is a gifted storyteller and millions of women the world over are hooked, so she’s obviously doing something right. I do find her leading man Christian Grey rather nauseating, as I’ve dated pompous men like him before. These are the men I used to toy with and toss away just to keep their egos in check. But without revealing too much, I can tell this story is about to unravel into something much more complex than a man with some whips and chains seducing a virgin.

Universal Pictures and Focus Features have announced that Michael De Luca (the producer of Moneyball) and Dana Brunetti (who co-produced The Social Network with De Luca) have signed on to produce the film. Any guesses who will play Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele? My money is on Felicity Jones, who wowed audiences during VIFF last year in Like Crazy, for the role of Anastasia.

Tales from a Bar Stool

Finally, I couldn’t write a post about steamy summer reads without giving a shout out to my fellow Province blogger Sandra Anne from Tales from a Bar Stool. A fine mix of torrid tales, culture, inspiration and advice. As she puts it, “A bar stool is a confessional and a rendezvous point. Throughout time, it’s a place where minds converge and sorrows spill. Where lovers meet and demons lurk. A bar stool is a platform for storytelling.” As mentioned in a previous post, I couldn’t agree more. You never know who you’re going to meet bellied up to a bar with a stiff martini and an open mind.

What’s on your summer must-read list? Anything steamy you’d recommend? Post a comment or tweet me @urbancowgirl

Image source: Guy Jaques

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What is it about a cowboy that gets us city girls all a flutter? Is it the fantasy of being hoisted onto one’s steed and swept away? Maybe it’s their macho demeanor and the smell of leather and larrup. Whatever it is, there’s no denying there’s a certain mystique associated with a 10 gallon hat and some cowboy swagger. Think Robert Redford and Paul Newman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Think Matthew McConaughey sporting assless chaps in the stagette film of the year Magic Mike. Cliché or not, spark me up a Marlboro – stat.

For women, I think the cowboy appeal begins early, perhaps at birth. I didn’t know too many girls growing up that didn’t beg for a pony for their birthday. I was one of those lucky little girls, actually, who was gifted a stunning Quarter Horse at age 5, much to the chagrin of my envious fellow first graders. Horses have this gentle strength about them that women respond to, much like the cowboy figures we lust after so hard.

The cowboy culture has also inspired some saucy sexual positions. We’re all familiar with the Reverse Cowgirl (or at least you should be, possums) in which we cowgirls mount our mates and make love facing south. Or there’s the Broken Cowboy, where no man is needed at all. Just a strap on, some lube and a couple of willing female participants. When you really get down to it, the western culture has cultivated a whole other genre of sexual behavior. Where would a leather daddy be without his chaps and horse whip? I can’t bear the thought.

If you’re not able to make it to the Stampede this year, but still want to keep up-to-date with all the beer slinging debauchery, follow the boys at Brolog.ca who are on the ground covering the event. Check out this post on why girls love riding cowboys. It pretty much nails my aforementioned thoughts.

If you’re heading to Calgary for the final five days of the fest and are lookin’ for a little cowboy lovin’, remember — it’s not cheating, it’s stampeding.

Image source: michaelthomson

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I’ve always liked men, this I know. And the thought of getting into bed with another woman has never appealed, although I do appreciate the female form and admiring such specimen from afar. Women are so much more intricately designed compared to men, as I’m sure many of my male readers will attest to. Despite my love of men, which I suspect will always be, there was a particular buxom blond that crossed my path while partying in the Gaslamp Quarter of San Diego last week. Yes, I just said buxom… like a dirty old man, I just used the word buxom in a sentence.

I was with a male friend of mine that took a shining to an attractive blond gal in a flowery frock. Being the rock star wing woman that I am, I decided to make my approach to chat her up. She was super sweet – from Iowa in San Diego on business – and looking to tie one on. Turns out our girl hadn’t travelled much outside of her state and was married with two kids. Hence the wild woman that was about to surface.

We hit the d-floor and got down to a fine mix of frat house hip house and other cheesy club hits while throwing back some drinks. I usually don’t get on well with small town Americans, who don’t own a passport, but there was something so endearing and honest about this gal that I was eating it up. She was easy on the eyes as well, your typical all-American-girl-next-door. Like something right out of a Tom Petty song lyric. And then it happened… she leaned in for a smooch.

At first I was a little taken aback, but because she was so upfront about her background, I let it slide and chalked it up to a small town girl letting loose, which I fully supported. Then a few moments later, she leaned in for another snog. Here’s when I completely surprised myself. I let her kiss me again and to be honest, I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind at all. She smelled so good and was so soft and pretty, why the F not? It’s not like we threw down in the middle of the club and went for it, it was way more innocent than that.

The rest of the night remains foggy, but my wing man assured me that was the extent of my girl-on-girl tryst. Having never been unfaithful to my fiancé before, I told him about my little encounter the moment we reconnected in LA, and he was unsurprisingly ecstatic.  My girl from Iowa made me realize just how fascinating women are, and despite being those girls in the club, it was well worth it.

Photo source: jasonstaten

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I am, of course, speaking of the Mile High Club, an old adage used to describe ones sexual encounters mid-flight. I was inspired to write about this after catching comedienne Pam Ann’s hilarious one-woman show last night at the Vancouver Playhouse. Her entire shtick is based on flight attendants behaving badly, abusing passengers and having a shag with the captain. Which made me think; not only am I not a member, I’ve never applied to become one!

In all my travels, only once do I remember there being an opportunity for a high-flying hook up, and that was with Singapore Airlines. Not because they encouraged it – although they are known for being the best airline in the world – but because this was a double-decker aircraft complete with a separate lounge and bathroom area downstairs. I remember popping down to the lower deck and not coming across a single other soul. Who’s monitoring this space? The answer was no one. The perfect opportunity for a mile high mingle.

But what if you’re not flying 15 hours across the Pacific? What if it’s a domestic flight or a quick jaunt down to the States? Is there ever an opportunity to get it on in-flight without traveling half-way around the globe? My partner and I have considered it, but there are always some agro flight attendants up in our grill or hanging around in the back of the cabin. And that’s just economy. I’d say it’s even trickier in first class as you have much less room to nonchalantly saunter to the loo without your neighbors picking up on your plan.

If you’re going to join the MHC, you must be strategic. You must approach these sexy situations with a little ingenuity. Here are a few tips to help you get started:

Red eye flights offer ample opportunities for the frisky flyer. Wait until the lights are out, the shades have been pulled and most of your neighbors have already popped their sleeping pills. You still have flight attendants to deal with, but bathroom traffic is minimal, allowing for less interruptions.

Take advantage of chaotic situations. Screaming baby onboard? Perfect. Another passenger being particularly high maintenance, buzzing the cabin crew every few minutes? Thank you annoying woman in 22F.  While the flight attendants endeavor to maintain order, head to the loo a minute or two before your lover and linger until he or she arrives.

Fake out the flight attendants. Scoot over to the WC and make sure your high-flying counterpart is just steps behind you. Make him or her wait for several minutes – great time to tidy up and prep – and when the time is right, have him or her play the whoops I didn’t realize this one was vacant card and pop in to join you.

Have another helpful hint on how to join this elusive club? Are you a member yourself? Post a comment or send me a tweet @urbancowgirl

Image source: dmolsen

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 “Brazilian all the way. Nothing is sexier. My girl does it and I love it.” – AN from Surrey

I bet you do, AN. It’s much easier to navigate down south when you have a clear view of what you’re hunting for. I will share with you, though, on a scale of 1-10, 1 being not-so-painful, 10 being unbearable, I’d say from experience getting a Brazilian is a solid 8 out of 10. You’ll want to express your utmost appreciation when being intimate with your girl for giving you the gift of Brazil.

“Brazilian. Helllllll no on natural, that’s just god damn lazy. If you don’t want a guy’s face in your business, 70s is a good way to ensure that. Haha” – MS from Victoria

Another vote for Brazil. I guess this is still a relatively new deal in North America. I remember when the trend first surfaced in the mid to late 90′s. At the time, it was something you did purely to spice things up in the bedroom. A special treat for your guy if you were going on holidays, perhaps. Today, I’d say it’s the most common treatment. It would seem we’ve become pretty tough in the muff.

 “French or Brazilian is the way to go.” - KV from Vancouver

Ok, now here’s some variation. I appreciate a guy who likes to linger on the French Riviera. Although these men appreciate a well-kept woman, they’re also open to a little less maintenance. Think Playboy pics from the 80′s. Still super sexy, but with a landing strip to help guide a guy in the right direction.

So it seems there is little love for a retro look down under. Understandably so, I too prefer to reserve anything of the disco era exclusively for the d-floor. What do you think guys and gals – agree with AN and MS, or are you in support of KV? Do you disagree with all three? Post a comment or fire me a tweet @urbancowgirl

Looking for the perfect place to get your muff buffed for summer? Check out Sugarbox in Yaletown – these gals are pros. They have a complete selection of treatments for the guys too!

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When I think of all the scenarios in which I have landed in bed with a newly acquainted suitor (read, some guy I met at the bar) a few experiences stand out as exemplary, in terms of etiquette. Then again, there are instances that do not. For example, a stock broker I met at a popular Vancouver watering hole in the financial district comes to mind. Stock Broker was charming and amusing, which awarded him an invite back to my place for a glass of wine. After an otherwise satisfying romp, he quickly popped his gear back on as his buddies were probably still at the bar, and if he hurried, he could catch them. While I’m not a fan of a ONS lingering for too long, a 5 minute post-coital cuddle would have sufficed.

TIP: Try not to bail like you’ve just committed a murder when departing from a ONS. A cool and casual exit is more appropriate.

On the other end of the spectrum, no one likes a ONS who wears out their welcome. For example, spending the night without being invited to do so is a little presumptuous and puts the host in an awkward position. We should all know this by now, but alas I hear from my single contingent time and time again that people are still repeating this offence. On the rare occasion that you’ve experienced an emotional connection – and if both parties are consenting – sure, a sleepover is perfectly ok. But believe me when I say, most people – men and women alike – would prefer that a ONS get out of dodge ASAP.

TIP: The term “coyote ugly” was derived from this kind of behavior. Who cares if you’re tired or too drunk? Pour yourself into a cab and skeedattle.

Once in a while we stumble upon the perfect ONS scenario. There’s a mutual attraction, some witty banter and the decision to get a leg up. After a good session of drunken shagging, your ONS hangs out for a bit and thanks you for your hospitality. But before he makes his exit, he cleans up the wine glasses, fills up your water filter and tells you to make sure you lock the door after he departs. True story and a fine example of ONS etiquette at its best.

Do you have any one night stand etiquette that you subscribe to? Any horror stories of a ONS committing one of the above offences? Post a comment and let me know or send me a tweet @urbancowgirl

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But what about men? Do they appreciate having their hair pulled and their asses spanked? Does it turn a guy on to be pushed to his knees and overcome by a wildly aggressive female calling all the shots? I’m not talking about domination here, but rather trying to uncover which approach men prefer: Women who take the initiative or women who lay down and submit?

I’ve surveyed my closest male friends on the subject, so for purposes of this post we shall call them my merry men. Among them are married men, single straight men and gay men. A solid sample of the male sect. I found their opinions mixed and some of their responses rather surprising. Surprising because I have only my own, personal experience to draw from when it comes to bedroom prowess, and thus my own take on what men respond to and what they don’t. But, as I suspected, many of my merry men were up for a little angst and aggression in the sack.

There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who exudes confidence. Perfect body or not (although, who determines what’s perfect?) confidence and assertion garner top marks when it comes to being sexy. Taking that confidence one step further by taking on the role of aggressor may also yield favorable results for us ladies. However, some men have no idea what to do with this kind of behavior. In fact, I’ve been in a situation where a lover found it overwhelming and borderline emasculating.

On the other hand, we all know that men love the chase. Cliche as this may seem, it’s no secret that the hunter mentality is written into a man’s DNA. It’s hard coded and there’s nothing we can do to change that. So it was no surprise when a few of my merry men said that they preferred being the one who initiated sex. Not all the time, of course, as men do enjoy being taken by surprise, yet they still felt better about being the master of love making in their own domain.

Here’s the tricky bit. When do we know which role to play? I suppose it’s up to all of us – men and women alike – to read between the lines, when it comes to our approach to getting it on. Just what we need, another layer of complexity to our sexual relationships.

Which do you prefer? Are you all about chasing tail, or do you prefer to be overcome with affection? Post a comment or tweet me @urbancowgirl

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I would wager that what I’m about to write may resonate more with men than women, but I could be challenged otherwise. In chatting with a single, male friend of mine recently, we began to discuss all the means to be able to a) have casual sex or b) access sexual content. Of course, there is oodles of porn on the web. There’s also live webcams for an even more interactive experience. But what about having the ability to reach out to other frisky folks in your local vicinity for some late night fornication?

This lead me to dabble a bit on Craigslist, perusing their Casual Encounters listings. My, oh my, some of you may require a cold shower after checking out some of these sexual solicitations. Not only were people overtly descriptive and frank with their feelings of desire, they post pictures too. Just in case you want to examine exactly what you’re getting…in great detail…in high def resolution. But penis shots aside, I had a hay day reading through some of the posts. Here are a few of my faves…

Sexy delivery boy needed? – male looking for woman – 21 years old

Ever had the fantasy of a hot young delivery boy coming to your house with pizza, and you opening the door in your bathrobe? I come in, and while you’re looking for some money your robe falls off. We can make that happen together babe, and after we’re done having some passionate sex we can eat the pizza (will be cold by then though). Email me for pics, let’s have some fun ladies.

This poor chap has watched way too much budget porn, by the sounds of it. P.S. Cold pizza rules.

Four Hours of Pure Bliss – male looking for woman – 48 years old

I am a pretty good looking professional guy with a bod built for sin (the photo is a real photo of my body – the face matches the quality of the body).

This post would have been fine, had it not been accompanied by a photo of you screwing someone (I kid you not). Oh sure, let’s meet up so you can snap a candid pic of us shagging to post for your next Craigslist conquest.

Here are my top 5 subject titles:

Munday make u wanna Cumday
Cuddles and fun
Let’s 420 and play in bed
Perv seeks Perv for making out tonight
Cute eager cub looking for sexy cougar, show me some things

Meow! I do have a few pieces of advice for the fellas posting to this site. First of all, have you noticed the guy-to-girl ratio of people posting to the Causal Encounters section of Craigslist is a little off balance? Yesterday alone saw approximately 150 posts from men compared to two posts from women. You may be searching for a needle in a haystack here, guys. Also, spelling errors. Tons and tons of spelling errors. If you’re taking the time to upload an image of your junk, the least you can do is spell check your post before you publish.

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Personally, I’m not a huge proponent of pearls – literally or sexually speaking. I’m incredibly open to exploring new sexual frontiers, but I don’t see the appeal in being showered with semen. It may seem hot at the time, but after the lust has settled, there’s no sexy way to slither into the washroom to clean yourself up. It’s really a matter of moments where a pearl necklace feels appropriate. Those few moments leading up to ejaculation, of course.

I’ve know women who are all over a c-shot to the face. The gratitude expressed by their guy is so great, why not take a few moments to wash up after being intimate, if it makes your man happy? I completely appreciate their point, as pleasing your partner is something to be proud of. But my mind tends to wander to others scenarios, like, what if I get it in my eye? What if my skin reacts poorly and I end up with a rash? What then – tell everyone I have an allergy to peanuts? Or penis, rather? I’m pretty liberal when it comes to my bedroom antics, but I still say the c-shot isn’t for me.

What made the c-shot so popular to begin with, anyway? Was it really porn that propagated the popularity of this sexual behavior, or have we been doing this since the dawn of time? Some ladies would say it’s demeaning, and I can also appreciate this point of view. But I would tend to agree, that when receiving a pearl necklace from a partner you love and/or trust, it’s most likely all in good fun. Whether you’re on board or not, I have a few tips for those of you who are unsure if they’re ready to rock a pearl necklace:

1. Keep some tissues next to the bed – no brainer. That way you can tidy yourself up and have a bit of a snuggle without b-lining your way to the powder room.

2. Do it in the shower! With the water rolling over you, it’s possible to really get into it knowing that whatever lands on your face will quickly wash away while giving your lover the thrill he so desires.

3. Not sold on the c-shot? No worries. Let your guy climax on your chest or stomach. It’s a good way to ease in to it, and who knows? You may be one step away from wearing pearls after all?

What do you think – pearl necklace yes, or hell to the no? Sound off in the comments below.

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I was recently boozing with a friend of mine who’s been married for about 15 years. Two kids later, he’s a busy family man in a happy marriage. After a bit of liquid courage, he shared his uncertainty around his wife’s response to oral sex. How do you know if she likes it? How does one know when a woman has climaxed? My response, quite simply, was if she comes close to kicking you in the face, you know you’ve got there. As I stood there waiting for his ah-ha moment, I realized he sincerely had no idea if he was pleasing his wife. How unrewarding is that?! I love the look on a guy’s face after he’s successfully made me orgasm. It’s like he just returned from battle and has been awarded a purple heart.

I don’t doubt that my friend has done his very best to achieve the end goal here, which is why I think his wife is partially to blame. How many men get good at this right out of the gate? I’ll tell you how many: zero. Unless you’re of Latin decent, and in that case it’s genetic, but I digress. The only way a man will know what knocks your socks off in bed is if you tell him. Communicate! It may sound humiliating for the less sexually liberated ladies out there, but once you get into it, it could help heat things up. Tell him what you want, and give him a gentle nudge when things aren’t working for you. If your delivery is diplomatic, he’ll appreciate it — trust me.

When I look back at my single days, I remember being completely floored with some of the tactics my lovers were employing down south. Like, who the hell taught you this? And that’s the very point. Every girl is different. What pleases one may not please the next. We’re complicated creatures, but when you get us there we’ll make it worth your while.

Sorry to get biblical on you, but as the old adage goes…ask and you shall receive.

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I think most of us can agree that any time there’s an element of risk associated with sexy time, things start to heat up. There’s something super hot about the prospect of getting caught with your pants down…literally. I fondly remember my first experience being caught in the act in a public place. The glare of the policeman’s flashlight in my face while my high school boyfriend and I scrambled to put ourselves together in the back of his pickup truck. Good times. This may have started a pattern that transferred into adulthood, because at 33 I still find that level of risk exciting and hard to resist. And with that, I have a wee bit of a story and some expert advice, should you choose to get it on in the great outdoors this summer.

My partner and I had spent a boozy night at the Pirate Pub — one of our fave local watering holes — with a posse of friends. After the umpteenth rum punch among other boozy shots, it was time to stagger home along the seawall in hopes of sobering up. Instead, we ended up under some monkey bars having a shag. What we didn’t anticipate, however, was that our friends would decide to walk off the rum as well.

As they started to trickle by us one by one, we hit the deck, half naked, as though shots had just been fired. There we were, lying still, in the dark, bare asses to the wind, praying no one noticed us. Not the sexiest example, but our intentions were pure. Purely pervy, that is.

While I don’t discourage you from playing peep show at your local park, I would suggest that you be a little more strategic than I. Veer off course a little, or take an alternate route! You never know when the guy who makes your morning latte — or your drunk-ass friends — will stroll on by.

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Having just returned from the Telus World Ski & Snowboard Festival in Whistler, I certainly had my fair share of Aussie antics over the weekend. I consider myself somewhat immune to the Aussie appeal as I lived there for a year and, quite frankly, got my fill. Fair dinkum. Which is why I find it all too amusing to watch women go gaga for these guys. Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of Australian friends, some of which are men whom I absolutely adore. But in my experience, the Aussie male can be a bit rough around the edges and a little bit behind the times when it comes to interacting with liberal women. On the other hand, for girls who haven’t really ventured outside of North America, the Aussie male can seem somewhat exotic.

Aussie men are quite obviously comfortable with their bods, so much so, that they have no problem with public nudity. For example, while enjoying a few beers at the base of Blackcomb glacier Saturday, four Aussie lads breezed by us in the buff sporting only snowboard boots and toques. Nothing like a little schlong with lunch. Later that day, an Aussie friend of mine texted me a photo of himself (as seen above) sprawled out on his snowmobile in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Thank you J. Then we get back to the village just in time to catch an Aussie emerging from the bushes behind the liquor store, having clearly just scored. They’re animals! And women love it.

During the ski season, it’s rumored that 75% of Whistler’s work force is from Australia, here on a working holiday visa. Given the guy-to-girl ratio in Whistler is 2:1, this presents some fantastic odds for all you ladies looking for a little Aussie lovin’.

So why sit on a plane for 15 hours, when you can bomb up to Whistler and hit the d-floor at Buffalo Bills? Chances are you’ll end up having a snog with Mitch from Melbourne or going home with Tom from Turramurra. Never mind the crocodiles, Mick Dundee was a lady slayer…and still is.

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As the mercury inches higher, seemingly so does our sex drive. My gym is as busy as ever, with people gearing up for beach season, but I’m led to wonder – is the thought of squeezing into a bikini or roaming the beach shirtless what’s driving these folks? Or are they subconsciously trying to get fit for the high season of fornication? I say the latter. And here’s why…

Have you ever traveled somewhere tropical and experienced an explicit urge to jump the next cabana boy that breezes by? Have you ever found yourself to be more flirtatious on a hot summer’s night? Well, possums, there’s scientific reasoning behind your urge to merge. Studies show that people can become more psychologically aroused in warmer weather. No kidding. Skinny dipping with a lover or having sex outdoors in a public place doesn’t usually happen in the throngs of winter. Unless you’re a hardcore freak on a leash, and in that case, I applaud you. The ease of a summer breeze makes us feel free and whimsical and, in some cases, more willful when it comes to casual sex.

Some of my best sexcapades have occurred while on hols somewhere hot. But who’s to say you need to hop on a plane to get your rocks off? Vancouver completely opens up this time of year and is teeming with out-of-towners. So get out of the gym and get mingling, Vancouver. Trade those Hunter Boots and giant brellies for a patio and a pitcher of sangria. Belly up to a bar and chat with a complete stranger. Summer lovin’ is upon us.

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As the Canucks kick off round one of the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight, puck bunnies will descend on our city in droves, demonstrating their devotion to our team through a series of rituals. Much like a Band-Aid, puck bunnies are not just there to hooch it up for the home team, hell no. They’re there for the hockey. 

Sure, they may cause a ruckus at The Roxy after a big win, hoping to brush elbows with Alex Burrows. Yes, they may or may not fantasize of a three-on-two situation with the Sedins. And without a doubt, they won’t hesitate to bear their breasts for the Jumbotron if the mood permits. But a flaky hockey fan they are not. You will never, ever bear witness to a puck bunny bouncing her booty off the bandwagon. They’re in it to win it.

Most puck bunnies will embrace a standard game night attire; tight, blue and ready to roll through. Others will adopt a more avant-garde sense of style in heels, a Higgins jersey and legs up to here. Personally, I’ll be rocking a retro Luongo jersey and a glass of chardonnay.

Having been among the puck bunny elite a time or two, I can assure you their intentions are pure. Only once did I find myself behaving inappropriately, when Trevor Linden discovered a gaggle of my girlfriends and I lingering on his front lawn. In this case, I might have abused my puck bunny privileges. Otherwise, I’m proud to report that I’m there to support my team, not to pull the goalie or engage in a little roughing, if you catch my drift.

To all the puck bunnies out there, stand tall and proud when the puck drops tonight. Don’t let anyone call you a game-night groupie or a hat-trick hoochie. Own your puck bunny status, flash the CBC cameras and buy Bieksa a round of shots at The Roxy. Because remember…WE ARE ALL CANUCKS.

Attention single men of Vancouver: if you’re looking to meet women, there’ll be plenty of opportunity tonight, so put on your game face, hit up your local watering hole and be on the lookout for some bona fide bunny.

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I’ve blogged about this before over at Urban Cowgirl, so the topic is an ongoing investigation for me. I’ve surveyed a number of gal pals and heard a series of stories – some successful and some down right demoralizing – and I’ve yet to find a girl who absolutely adores anal sex. Are you out there? Do you really exist or are you a mythical being like a unicorn or the Easter Bunny?

I’m neither here nor there, when it comes to back door debauchery. For me, though, the stars must be aligned. A number of things need to come together for me to let my partner enter the VIP line and make his way beyond the velvet rope. VIP access only, people. I’ve met one girl who claimed to have climaxed during anal, so seemingly it’s plausible. Still, I assume this takes much practice and mastery of the art before ecstasy can be achieved. Not so sure I’m willing to commit.

A friend of mine told me she was holding out for marriage to offer her man a little booty falooty. Interesting concept, when you think about it. Nowadays, very few of us hold onto our virginity before entering a marital union, so why not save a little something for the wedding night? Maintain a little mystique so your man has something to look forward to. Who said romance is dead?!

Another gal pal of mine was complaining about a lover who was shocked to find a little mud on the helmet – if you catch my drift – following a backdoor encounter. Why would one be surprised by this? That’s what you get, when you go rooting around new territories.

The allure is still a mystery to me, but if you do decide to rev up your sex life with a little rear entry, here are some tips for the ladies to consider:

1. Do an herbal cleanse a day or two before engaging in anal.
2. Ask your partner for a massage before things get underway to help you relax.
3. Pick up some silicone-based lube, I’ve been told this works best for the behind.
4. Have a few drinks to take the edge off.
5. Deep. Breathing.

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I can completely appreciate how the infatuation and heart palpitations of a new relationship can fade over time, and in many cases, the lust goes right along with it. I’ve found myself in a place where the thought of shagging my partner — past tense — could not be less appealing. It’s not easy keeping the flame alive, and by no means do I claim to know the secret to keeping things saucy. What I find a tad irritating, however, is single people shitting on those of us who are shacked up, assuming we only have sex on Fridays, under the covers, lights out. Maybe some of us do? But there are couples out there playing pizza delivery man or parking in Stanley Park for a round of peep show. There are couples among us attending fetish parties and practising tantric.

A few of my married friends are fine-tuned fornicators. Their voracious appetite for booty is proof that there is life beyond matrimony. Proof that you can share several years with someone and still knock their socks off in the sack. I aspire to be one of these people … I salute these people! As a blushing bride-to-be, it’s important that I surround myself with said fornicators as it’s reassuring to know that this is possible. That lust and romance can be achieved, even after infatuation fades. Is it easy? Probably not. But I’m of an optimistic mindset, so I’m rolling with it.

As I approach my own nuptials this fall, I realize I could be totally deluded to think that things will be this hot forever. But for all the singles out there, I want you to know that it’s possible. It’s possible to stare at the same penis for half a decade and still be just as pleased as the first time you laid eyes on it. Thank Buddha.

Are you married and having the hottest sex of your life? Or, did things fizzle the moment you said I do? Shoot me a tweet or post a comment below — I’d love to hear from you!

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If this hasn’t happened to you before, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. One of the most unattractive, awkward instances one can experience while being intimate with a partner is to discover your lover’s desire to baby talk you into oblivion. Are there really women out there who enjoy this? Or men, for that matter?

Baby talk in bed is just as unacceptable coming from a woman as it is from a man. Coming from a man, it screams mommy issues. Coming from a woman, it could be perceived as emasculating. Have you ever heard a grown woman ask her male counterpart for help with something in the same voice a new mother might address her toddler? I’m quite certain that doesn’t exactly make a man feel like a man. I cringe when I hear women do this! For the love of god and all things mighty, ladies, stop it. Just stop.

I remember when an ex boyfriend of mine started dropping the baby talk here and there. It began more casual during conversation or if he was asking me to do him a favour. Would you mind picking me up a six-pack of beer, shmookie wookie? At first, I chose to ignore it, until one day the baby talk snuck right into our bedroom. I believe his exact words were are you ready for your close-up Mrs. Deville? Was I what?! I felt like snapping back at him in the most condescending manner with something like is your little peeney weeney ready for a visit from Mrs. Muffin? On what planet is that considered arousing? Nothing says buzz kill like baby talk and musical theatre references during sex.

I assume there’s something psychotic psychological that explains why people do this, but I want to make it very clear for the men out there. Don’t baby talk. Please don’t go there. Nothing is sexier than being with a man who tells you how he feels or what he needs sexually in a normal, adult tone of voice.

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