Author: Amy Albert

Inventive Moments to Have Sex When You Have a 6 Month Old

by Amy Albertin Sex

Here are my three favorite ideas I’ve gathered about how to get that nookie when your kids aren’t looking!

My husband and I have a six-month-old baby. We love the crap out of this kid. She’s delightful and hilarious and for all intents and purposes, a great baby. However, she is, and I feel no remorse in calling her this, the ultimate cock block.

As two working adult comedians it’s hard enough to find time for sex even without this beautiful bundle of distraction, but with a kid it’s almost impossible! I quickly discovered as I asked around to our other be-babied friends, that we were certainly not alone in this sexual conundrum. So here are my three favorite ideas I’ve gathered about how to get that bootie when your kids aren’t looking!

The first is what I like to call “nap time nookie”. This can get tricky as some parents, ourselves included, only have one bedroom which usually means throwing down on the couch (though my husband is 6’4”, so it’s not always comfortable), or as one hilarious parent referred to it, “12 minutes on the den sofa after they’ve gone down”. Sometimes this attempt can get dangerous if you’re trying to squeeze in a few moments to yourselves. You see babies, at least mine, are born with excellent timing. They can sense your unbridled, adult-time happiness so their eyes spring open and they start squealing for your attention, thinking “oh no Mommy, this is not the time to enjoy yourself, it’s time for you to sing to me and let me breast feed until your boobs look like two tube socks filled with sand!” Luckily I’m not alone in this experience, and as one mom revealed she and her husband decided to take advantage of nap time and even though their baby had awakened, they let the little one cry for a few minutes and try to fall back asleep on her own for a bit. This would’ve worked had their neighbor not heard the baby and burst into the apartment to let them know she was up! Thank you neighbor! We know! And also how the fuck did you get in here? Did you make a key for yourself? We’re moving for sure.

Anyway, the moral of this story is, when the kids go down, you can also.

Another tried and true method is utilizing the babysitter. I mean, you’re paying them so why not add a few moments onto your grocery run with hooking up in your car, or as another mommy friend of mine told me, doing their “taxes” in the garage office. Taxes can be complicated, what with all those deductions and donations and what-not, so this seems like something the sitter may have to stick around for a couple times this month. And next…actually, it turns out we’re filing late this year! Maybe we should pencil you in for a few times this week alone! This story also made me realize I now know the true meaning behind product “TurboTax”.

Finally, try referring to the letter of the day, which will always be S, as in Sesame Street. My baby is mesmerized by this magical show, which gives me and her dad approximately five minutes to go the bedroom and jump all over each other. It’s a very efficient five minutes indeed. Some parents may be against TV for their babies, but I justify it by telling myself Sesame Street is educational, adorable, teaches kindness, has fabulous musical numbers, and most importantly enough stimuli to distract even the most active six month old.

The point is, keeping the romance in your relationship can be challenging enough, but taking time, even a very productive five minutes, can keep your partnership strong and full of life!

Sharing Milk

by Amy Albertin RELATIONSHIPS

Breast milk is amazing, it’s full of antibodies, and helps babies develop, and there have even been studies recently that show breastmilk can help cure some kinds of cancer.

Recently on the website LittleThings an Australian mom named Meg Nagle posted a picture on Facebook of her breast feeding her nephew while her sister was away at work, and the baby was very hungry. Meg had the milk, and didn’t think twice about it. It should also be mentioned that Meg is a lactation consultant who happens to know a thing or two about the subject, and also got permission from her sister beforehand. Oddly (please note the sarcasm here) people lost their minds over it, and it caused a firestorm of Internet remarks, some that were supportive, and many others that were not.

So why do people have such strong opinions about this? Wet nursing as a concept has been around for hundreds of years, and women donating their milk to infants in orphanages, or simply to other mothers who for whatever reason can’t breast feed, or produce enough of their own milk. Breast milk is amazing, it’s full of antibodies, and helps babies develop, and there have even been studies recently that show breastmilk can help cure some kinds of cancer. So why does the idea of a woman who is not the baby’s mother breastfeeding them freak us out so much?

Maybe it’s because in America boobs are sacred, sexual, hidden images for the most part, and viewing them as a source of food for a newly born human isn’t sexy. Americans LOVE our sexy, but not if it’s served with a side of breast milk. A friend of mine just the other day asked me after I remarked on how sad my breasts will be after I’m done nursing my baby in a few months said, “well, yeah, but you don’t really care about that, right? I mean, their real purpose is to feed your child, and you did that!” She’s right, I did do that. I fed my daughter from my breasts just as I was supposed to. Good job boobs! But if I’m being honest with myself, I still don’t want my once perky, small nippled, perfectly sized C’s to look bad! My husband is a big fan of my boobs, and I worry he won’t be attracted to me after they stop producing milk and I wake up with what can only be described at “porn star D’s”. Will my breasts resemble a hastily discarded sock puppet, thrown to the side by a child who has no interest in playing with is anymore? Is that even a thing? Even the thought of that makes me have panic sweat. Oh great, so I’ll have pancake boobs on top of my flop sweat. Not sexy.

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That Tape! and My Triggered Flood of Shame Memories Starting At Age 6

by Amy Albertin LOVE

I felt the over bearing weight of shame that I did not deserve or provoke….Have you ever felt that?

Shame doesn’t really care who’s taking it on, even if it’s not deserved.

When I was asked to write about the Donald Trump media leak of him bragging about sexually assaulting women, I thought it wouldn’t’ be hard to conjure up some opinions on the subject. I am, after all, a woman who has a vagina that could possibly be up for grabs by him, so yes please, I’d like to tell you what I think. However, as I sat down to write about it, my thoughts became all jumbled and messy, and I would begin draft after draft only to erase the whole thing and start over. Why was I having so much trouble writing an objective piece on hearing a man who is running for President of the United States talk so openly about grabbing and kissing women?

I took a long time to sort out my thoughts, and when I finally did, what I discovered was an ocean of bad memories of my own sexual assaults, with the first being when I was six years old. I pushed these memories out of my mind, covered them up with other happier memories, like my wedding day and the birth of my daughter. But now, here they were. All dusty and dirty, occupying space in my mind. So now I guess I have to deal with these feelings. Fuck.

The first memory from when I was a little girl happened around my home by a kid I knew. He didn’t rape me, or molest me, but he did expose his penis to me and grabbed my hand to make me touch it. He was 13.

While I don’t remember many details of what lead up to that event, I do remember the feeling that came over me that I later recognized as shame. For the first time at six years old, I felt the over bearing weight of shame that I did not deserve or provoke. It was thrust upon me and in a span of no more than 10 seconds; this feeling became a part of me, and reared its ugly head a lot over the years.

I felt shame again when I was 10 and a brother of a kid in my school chased me and grabbed my chest really hard, then ran away laughing, and again when I was 19 and a guy in my group of friends pulled down my top to expose my breasts then jammed his hand down my pants, and again when I was in my 20’s and the manager of a fine dining restaurant I worked at for a few years harassed me, sexualized and bullied me so much I started to feel nauseous on the way to work.

When I sit down and define what the feeling of shame actually is for me, it’s a combination of fear that I will somehow be in trouble if I report it or don’t go along with it, that no one will believe me anyway, and that it will automatically be assumed that I did something to provoke this unwanted behavior.

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Adult Preferences vs. Real Life – Millennial Women Respond to Adult Content…Take 2

by Amy Albertin Sex

Whether we like it or not, explicit film is a big part of our culture. Millennial women weigh in on their viewing experiences, responses and red hot opinions. Do you agree?

I, like most women my age, have watched porn at least once or twice in their lives. Like it or not porn is a huge part of sex today and it’s never been simpler to check out with the ease in which to access it. Gone are the days of having to walk into a video store while pretending to have interest in the New Releases wall before peering into the “back room” and forging a “aw, this should be amusing!” look on your horny face. Then attempt a casual perusement of VHS tapes with the well worn boxes with catchy titles like Tiger’s Wood, or How Stella Got her Tube Packed, all the while chucking audibly as if to inform the other customers that you’re in that room “as a joke” and “boy, this would be such a fantastic gag for my buddies to come over to watch a movie and whoops! There’s a porno in here! Ha-ha!” And finally the awkward small talk one would automatically engage in with the clerk with the hope of broadcasting “I’m very interested in the film aspect of this, and in no way am I going back to my one bedroom apartment to lock my three cats in the bathroom and masturbate furiously to this tape! I’m a cinephile after all!”

Now you can Google the word “sex” or simply type in the p and an o and you’re instantly directed to hundreds of sites where you can view your most sordid fantasies while stuck in traffic on the 405. And for FREE! The future is now!

I will freely admit that I am one of those women who likes to watch porn from time to time, and when I do I have a very specific kind of porn that I like to watch. I developed my preference through viewing experience. I put in the work people, it takes time! Here’s the thing about my porn viewing pleasures; the things I like to watch that I find sexy and titillating are NOT the things I like in my actual, real life sex life. In fact, if my husband attempted to recreate one of my favorite scenes, I would probably be freaked out!

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Size Never Matters, Trust Me.

by Amy Albertin Sex

Mark had established a bit of a reputation for himself within the small window of time that he was employed at this restaurant as quite the Lothario because of the fact that he was blessed with what was rumored to be a huge penis.

When I was in my early 20’s I spent a summer waitressing at this sweet, kitschy restaurant in the Bay Area when out of nowhere the guy I had been dating, who I was utterly obsessed with, dumped me. I was crushed! Like, “broken, crying in a Target dressing room, writing shitty sad songs on my guitar that I could barely play, watching back-to-back Ally McBeal episodes to cope” crushed. A bartender, who we’ll call Mark, had been working there for a couple of months, and even though I wasn’t attracted to him, I liked the attention he gave me was, for all intents and purposes, totally harmless. Mark had established quite the reputation for himself within the small window of time that he was employed at this restaurant as quite the Lothario because of the fact that he was blessed with what was rumored to be a huge penis. One of the women who was supposedly impressed with it described it as “a baby’s arm holding an apple” and another called it the “anaconda”. My best gay friend who worked with me would constantly ask questions about said “huge” penis after it was revealed that one of our co-workers would have a run-in with it. He loved hearing all the dirty details about this guys wang. I would laugh and gasp and feign being all into it as they would describe every curve and angle of this man’s anatomy, but really it sort of grossed me out! Why would I want something described as an infant’s appendage grasping a piece of fruit anywhere near my vag? Ew!

As the end of my shift rolled around one eve a couple of weeks after me getting dumped I was glumly cashing out my checks for the night at the kitschy bar of the kitschy restaurant. Mark made me a drink and asked what was going on. I told him how I was heartbroken and just destroyed about it. I confessed that I thought I was in love with this guy, and when I learned that he was seeing someone else the entire time we were dating I was so humiliated! Mark listened intently to my sob story, nodding at the appropriate times while refilling my glass when it got half empty.

About an hour and a half and two thirds into my third drink later, he gently tucked my hair behind my ear and said, “You know, I have a great way to get you over that guy.” He smiled and suddenly looked very cute to me. I laughed awkwardly and told him I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. He agreed, but said he was always available to me if I ever wanted to “have the best night of my life.”

“It’s the only sure fire way to move on, in my opinion. I’ll rock your world, I promise.”

I excused myself to the bathroom and stood at the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had never really done anything like that before, just slept with a guy to make myself feel better. But…maybe he was right? Surely a guy who’s confident like that must be great in bed! Maybe this guy’s legendary dick would be just the elixir to cure my blues! Maybe I was about to have the best freakin’ night of my life and my world rocked! So I marched out to the bar, grabbed my bag and told him I would follow him home.

45 minutes later I’m at Mark’s apartment and we’re making out in his kitchen. We had a little trouble getting on the same page in terms of the kissing, but I figured I was a little tipsy, and he could be too, so maybe that was it. Then he takes my hand and leads me into his bedroom, which had posters of girls with huge hair in ripped half tops with the bottom of their nipples hanging out, like he was 15. “Well”, I thought, “he clearly likes girls, so that’s good!” We start getting undressed and I noticed that he ripped his clothes off with such enthusiasm that he reminded me of a little kid tearing into a Christmas gift. He turns around to face me and I see it. The “Baby’s arm holding an apple”. The “Anaconda”. This “huge” penis. And it’s pointed right at me. Watching me. I felt like if I tried to move around the room it would follow me, like the Mona Lisa.

We get into bed and he immediately mounts me without any warning or foreplay. Just in a, “Hello, welcome to my body weight pressing the breath out of you because women think being crushed is super hot!” type of way. His face was right on my face smashed together, which felt way too intimate for the moment, and now that I think of it is probably way too intimate for any moment ever. He asks me if I’m “good and ready”, to which I reply with a “yup” that I wheezed out because I couldn’t breathe due to his man body carelessly draped across mine, and a thumbs up, always an appropriate way to start sex when you’re getting ready to have the” best night of your life!”

Then it “started” And by that I mean a solid 20 minutes of him grunting and sweating on me while his giant penis went from an “Anaconda” to one of those balloon dudes who alert people to a sale or a new car wash after they had been deflated and were just weirdly flopping around with the wind. He kept slapping it on my thigh, squeezing his eyes shut and whispering, “Come on, man!” to whom I can only assume was his penis.

At one point he abruptly stood up and went over to the corner of his bedroom, like a scene out of The Blair Witch Project, where he got really quiet. I figured he trying to reason with it, talk it out like bros. When he returned to his bed, which didn’t have a fitted sheet by the way, there was a glimmer of hope in his eye, so I assumed they had worked out their differences and were ready to proceed as scheduled. Unfortunately it appeared that the penis and the man were on two different pages completely that evening.

Eventually I told him I had to go. “Early morning.” I said, like I was a regretful fella dressed in a cheap suit in an 80’s movie who just cheated on his wife with his best friends fiancé, “Gotta get my beauty sleep.” I got up and started to get dressed as fast as I could. I didn’t feel the need to hang out and make it even more uncomfortable than it was. He just lay in his bed on his side with his head propped up in his hand, nodding and telling me he “had to get up early too, so it was probably a good move to hit the sack.” I pulled on my shoes and waved goodbye and I exited his place so quickly I practically left a cartoon puff of smoke in my wake. I walked to my car noting to myself that in the future I should ask what one’s definition of rocking a world is, because I probably would’ve taken a rain check in this case.

The next day as I rolled silverware Mark noticed me and sat down at the booth. He casually mentioned that he had a “good time” the night before, but this time when he smiled he had reverted back to the version of himself that I didn’t find attractive at all. He asked me if I’d like to come by for “a little round two action”, which I politely declined. He told me that if I ever needed him again, I knew his number. “Oh, I got your number alright, stud.” I said under my breath as he walked away.

He walked back to the bar where he immediately started putting the moves on a woman sitting there alone,  and I realized that for the first time in a while I wasn’t bummed about the guy who dumped me. And while he certainly didn’t rock my world, or give me the best night of my life, I realized in that moment that I appreciated him and his baby’s arm for taking my mind off things and giving me a pretty decent bad sex story to write about many years later.