Ahhh, that’s the spot…

Done everything except send out the CSI: Missing Pieces Unit looking for your G spot (y’know that ooh, ahh tissue located somewhere in the front wall of your pink bits)? Positively flummoxed when female friends talk about having vaginal orgasms like they’re having a cup of tea? Then this is the post for you.
Scientists in Italy have been in the lab cooking up some very interesting findings on the female G-spot recently. Apparently, the unlucky among us don’t actually have one. How’s that for the ultimate genetic short straw? They reckon, by scanning the location with an ultrasound, they can now sort out who’s at roll-call... and who’s decided to take the day off. It must have gone something like this: “Amanda’s G spot? Present!... Sophie’s G spot... not here!”
The white coats say women can now check their G status by simply booking in for an ultrasound. Apparently a simple scan can show that gals who are blessed with vaginal orgasms had slightly thicker tissue in the front wall, whilst those who were struggling to feel much more than a pleasant in-out sensation, well, er, they didn’t. Fancy that? For those struggling to locate the damn thing, it would be a quick way to call off the search, pack up the torches and head back to the clitoris.
Detractors to the study did throw up a counter argument. They reckon the G-spot is something we have to take the gym and give a jolly good workout. Every day. They say, the G-spot muscle can be trained to perform ... much like a monkey or an Australian Idol star. That we can all achieve mind blowing sex through a bit of daily practice.
You can check out more on the study here.What do you reckon folks? Is the G spot something you’re born with, or something you have to work on? When did you first discover that special spot? Come on – let’s crank this column up to an R rating! Must fly, I’ve got kegel exercises to do...

To tell or not to tell... that is the question

Definitely a situation we all hope we’ll never be in is discovering that a friend’s partner is doing the dirty without our friend’s knowledge. Do we tell? Or do we – usually rightly – expect that our friend will shoot the messenger?
Anyone who watched Cashmere Mafia the other night will know where I’m coming from. Zoe spots Juliet’s cad of a husband in a public clinch with another woman, and bands together with the rest of their gal-pal group to deliver the news. Cashmere catfight? No, Jules takes it quite well, giving a sad little speech about how she prefers her life to the alternative (single), but later socks it to her hubby by revealing she will be taking one of his friends as a lover. Ouch. OK, so it’s not exactly how most people would like their marriages to operate, but whatever revenge tactics float your boat.
Anyhow, it’s the ‘telling’ that got me. Would you, should you, could you? My friend Amanda says she’d only tell if she saw the evidence with her own eyes. “Rumours about how a friend of a friend saw so-and-so’s boyfriend with someone else wouldn’t cut the mustard,” she says.
Ellen, on the other hand, says she’d prefer to approach the cheating partner and clobber/convince them to ‘fess up. “If they didn't, I’d tell.”
And it’s not always cheating that you’re torn over telling. Spare a thought for this delightful little triangle of deceit I experienced many years ago. I was royally dumped – at my own birthday party no less – by my boyfriend who was planning to go back to his home country to work. Nice timing, I know, but the thing that left more of a bitter taste in my mouth was the fact that my very good friend and flatmate knew of the dumping before I did. My boyfriend had announced his plans to her prior to the fact and asked her to ‘look after me’. At the time, I wanted both to fall under a bus, but over the years I have come to see she, too, was in a conundrum: here I was having a ball; in telling me she risked wrecking my night – especially if he chickened out and never went through with the said dumping. Also, he was a jerk for involving her in the first place. Would I have held my tongue like she did? Who knows. I hope I never have to find out.
Sooooo, gang, spill it: have you ever been in a situation where you witnessed or heard something you really should confess to a friend? Did you? Or when would you?

How do I flick my office fling?

Recently, I had a short-lived fling with an already-attached work colleague. It was fun for a while, but a few months ago I met someone single I really liked and started seeing him seriously. The problem is, my fling from the office is still flirting with me and asking me to meet up with him, even though I’ve made it clear I’ve moved on. What should I do? One’s Enough

Dear One’s Enough. Sure, you had some after hours' fun with a workmate, but that doesn’t mean you promised this guy anything more than that. And seeing as he’s already spoken for, how dare he try to stop you moving on with your new bloke? You’ve made it clear you’re a one-man kind of girl, so he should respect that and move along. You need to be ultra firm here. Don’t meet up with him alone, don’t allow any sort of flirting or touching and, if you really want it to end, tell him you will lodge a formal complaint if he doesn’t cease and desist. Any chance you might be able to get a new job? That might help too!

Love, reality chick

Must I party with his paramours?

Reality chick, help! I broke up with my husband because I thought he was doing the dirty with the receptionist from his work – mobile phone bills showed they’d been messaging A LOT. He denied it all, so now we’re back together. However, he’s now insisting he invite the receptionist and one of his ex girlfriends to a huge birthday bash I am throwing for him AND paying for. I’m not comfortable with this, but he says it’s his party and he can invite whoever he likes. Jen

I’ve met a few dodgy husbands in my time, Jen, but yours sounds like a real piece of work. First, he enjoys a little offshore drilling with his receptionist (I know I haven’t seen the mobile bills but trust me, I’ve got a gut feel on this one). By some miracle, he worms his way back into your life by denying the whole thing. Then, during a time when he really should be kissing your feet, cooking you gourmet meals, unselfishly tending to your sexual needs and apologising profusely for putting you through the agony of a break-up/make-up, he instead demands that he be allowed to whoop it up with both his bit of fluff AND an ex-girlfriend, at a lavish birthday party you’re throwing for him? Funny how you’re not feeling comfortable about your home life these days, Jen. My advice? Give Mr It’s-My-Party-And-I’ll-Invite-Who-I-Want-To a hefty kick where the sun don’t shine and find a sexy divorce lawyer. Stat.

Love, reality chick

PS. Can I have Party Boy’s number? I feel a prank call or ten coming on.

Are you fit to date?

Here’s a question that flew into RC’s in-box lately….
Dear RC, I’ve exhausted all dating possibilities from speed dating to online sites. How else can I meet a decent bloke? Single in the City

Dear S&C. Have we found the answer for you. That is, if you like getting a sweaty, sexy aerobic workout on the first date. Oh tut, tut. I wasn’t talking about that kind of workout… RC has been informed there’s a new dating venture that’s sprung up in Sydney (and soon to be in Brissy and Melbourne) it’s called Fit2Date. The clever little venture gets sixteen sporty singles together once a week for a one-hour outdoor training session that involves just as much flirting as your average Friday night bar in the city. Methinks this new trend has sprung up for the 30something among us whose livers (and waistlines) need a break from bars and pubs. It begs the question though. Is this a good way of meeting a match? Whilst groaning through crunches, grunting though step-ups and gritting through sprints?
On the one hand – you get to test the endurance skills of your potential date, as well as checking out their goods in a pair of bike-shorts. And there’s nothing like team sports to get closer to your target (I mean, just look at how much groping those rugby player do…)
On the other hand, it means you will have to be prepared not to look at your date-ready best (unless you look like Maria Sharapova and have the heart-lung capacity of Phar Lap) If you sign up with Fit2Date, you can forget about the wonders of GHD or trying to put together an outfit to flatter your thighs. By the third push-up, you’re going to be downright bedraggled.
Personally, I like to think it could work. Perhaps by being prepared to get a little down and dirty, it’s actually going to endear you to your potential partner. And hell, the only way is up from limp hair and blotchy cheeks. Just think how dashing you’ll look when you get to drag him/her off the oval and into a 2 hat restaurant…
So, let’s hear it people. Would you be prepared to mix personal training with dating? Or have you already had a close encounter at the gym/running track/yoga studio? Do tell.
Oh, and if you’re itching to throw on a tracksuit and meet that special someone. You can find out more here. Tell them RC sent you...

It's the thought that counts. Sort of

V-Day is over, and landfill is no doubt fit to burst with ugly plush toys, cheap chocolates and fake jewellery your cat wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. I know it’s the thought that counts, yada yada yada, but surely I’m not the only one to have sometimes wished that the thought hadn’t occurred at all? Like years ago, when my boyfriend at the time presented me with a laminator (“So you can make your own greeting cards!”) for my 30th birthday, despite repeated hints that I like: a) flowers; b) classy jewellery and c) saucy underwear, not necessarily in that order.
Now, I’m not taking pot-shots at male gift-givers. No matter how much you know and love someone, it can be hard buying them a wicked present – and we probably all get it wrong some of the time. Take last Christmas. I pulled out all the stops to get my guy the perfect gifts – and he was suitably chuffed about everything he got, bless him. However, when the topic arose just recently he admitted he’d dropped numerous hints about how he’d hoped Santa would bring him the entire Sopranos box-set. Santa obviously had other ideas (or she wasn’t really listening), because he ended up having to buy it from Blockbuster. (And can I just take the opportunity to say that, while Tony Soprano may be porkier than the average bear, he has a certain something.)
Anyway, I guess it begs the question: Is a bad gift better than no gift at all? My friend June – whose boyfriend Harry broke the cardinal rule of not giving her a birthday present – thinks so.“Presents… it’s a point that fails to get across to the modern man,” she says. “Harry was like, ‘How am I supposed to get to the shops during a working day when I don't even have time for a lunch break?’ and I was like, ‘THAT'S the point! You make time! You take 5 minutes out of your hectic week to think about another person!’”
OK, so maybe it is the thought that counts (unless, of course, you’re unwrapping a laminator). You tell me, kids...

Valentine's giftage... what do men want?

Yes us girls expect roses, or any flowers for that matter, a nice gift, being taken out for dinner, you name it, but what should us woman be buying our men to show them we love them? Wondering

Good question, Wondering. Because when it comes to V-Day, it's all about what women want. I mean just LOOK at the merchandise. Fluffy white bears, red ribbons, pink roses, mushy cards, boxes of chocolates. There’s not much there for the blokes, is there? Well, that’s where you have to get creative. At the risk of sounding like Bree Vandercamp, cooking is always a way to a man’s heart. Bake a batch of his favourite treats or make him a special dinner. If cooking isn’t your thing, maybe burn him a CD of his fave tunes, buy him a bottle of nice red or a ticket to a concert he’s been eyeing off. And there’s always Rebel Sport or Bunnings vouchers if you get really desperate!

Love, reality chick

Happy Valentine’s Day to all my reality chicks and reality dudes! Scroll down for messages of lurve...

Firstly, I hope you’ll all forgive my extended hiatus. Even superheros need time out from dealing with the lovelorn, but now I’m back and ready to tend to your every need, blog my little heart out and think up polls to tempt and torture you when you probably should be doing something else. Like finding true love, filing those reports in your ‘ignore’ pile or figuring out how to cook the perfect risotto. (It’s all about a sneaky glass of wine, folks. One for you, one for the rice. One for you, one for the rice. One for you... OK, OK, you get the picture.)
Where was I? Ah yes. During my break, I was deluged by a number of nakedly honest queries (sadly, via email) from readers about a variety of topics – everything from how to talk dirty in bed, to guys and gut feelings and whether Grey’s Anatomy season 3 has really jumped the shark. For RSVP veterans convinced all blokes online are either a) married, b) freaky psycho stalkers or c) going to turn up to first dates wearing socks and sandals, I’ll also be revealing a nice, novel way to hook up online.
Ask Reality Chick is also going to get a helluva lot more action this year. People, I’m here to help. I can’t stress that enough. And my voyeuristic side is, frankly, desperate to hear what the heck’s going on in all your relationships, so bring on the curly questions. Stat.
So, here’s to V-Day – a time of joy and heartache, cheesy cards and whinging maitre‘ds. Apparently restaurants hate couples. What’s up with that? If you’re coupled, you have my blessing to demand the window seat, feed each other and smooch away to your heart’s content. If you’re single, you don’t have sit at home and watch Remains of the Day. V-Day parties are bound to be bigger and hopefully better than last year. (Two words: pole dancing competitions.) And if not, a vodka shooter or ten will make it all better.
I’d love to hear what you got up to – drop me a line. And don’t forget to pop in next Tuesday for all new blogs, Q&As and much more.
Love,
reality chick

PS. Want to send a message of lurve to your partner or a hottie you've got your eye on? Email it to me and I'll post it up - and if you include the receiver's email address, I'll personally let them know they've got a message waiting on the website!

4.45pm
Oh Owl, my elegant fowl. Let's go to sea in a beautiful pea green boat. Love you madly, your pussycat. x

5.04pm
nat... I know you know I think its a marketing ploy, but L-O-V-E, I love you, even when you burn my toast all is forgotten when you bake a delicious roast. Even when you accidently kneed me in the balls I know it was because of the rush to get off my clothes. So when I say I love you, its not just you but everything you do! pip

5.06pm
Love you truly, madly, deeply for always. Happy V Day, Anon.
P.S. and I don't even mind that you gave me the clap.

5.09pm
P...Whoever invented long-distance lurve is a real a-hole! So good thing you're here, rocking my world with your baby blues and berry smoothies in the morning. Love you chicken licken. Rx

5.21pm
DD, Roses are red, violets are blue, without you, I’d be in the poo. Love you bub.

5.29pm
To Bib, from Bub: It's been 44 years and in the dance of life, lets keep on twirling. Happy Valentine's Day.

9.28am
am I too late? ...Hey D, you're the apple to my pie, the gin to my tonic. I'll be your daggy valantine anytime. P

Racket or romance?

My boyfriend’s not at all romantic so he shocked the life out of me when he asked what I wanted to do next Wednesday night (being Valentines Day). I said that I have my tennis finals, so could we make it another night? He said no, he said I either go that night or not at all! What do you think I should do? Jo

Sounds like your boy is employing the sneaky but effective If-I-Make-Myself-Look-Good-She-Won’t-Be-Able-to-Rouse-On-Me-for-Not-Doing-Valentine’s-Day tactic. He’s pretending to be up for it, but is secretly stoked the tennis finals have clashed with a day most men consider hell on earth. Gooey cards, fluffy toys, declaring their devotion – it’s right up there with dining at the in-laws’ place and working on a Sunday. Your boy knows you’ll be torn between tennis or him, and probably hopes you’ll opt for tennis, leaving him to enjoy a quiet night on the couch with a six-pack and the latest episode of Border Security. So play tennis. Let him have his couch time. In fact, let him assume he has won the V Day battle, hands down. Until Friday, when you’ll announce nonchalantly that you’re busy – playing wing-girl for your single workmates who are all keen on a post-V Day pick-up pub crawl. More couch time for him, only this time he’ll have the green-eyed monster breathing down his neck as he wonders what mischief you’re up to. After all, everyone knows the wing-girl gets chatted up more than the ones on the pull, right? Ha! Ha!

Love, reality chick

Is multiple-dating a bad thing?

I recently dated three girls in one week. I then picked the best of the three to follow up with. After 3 weeks of focussing on the best of the bunch she confessed that she was dating another guy simultaneously. As a guy I then felt a) less attracted to her and not as keen to kiss her and b) cheated of the opportunity to keep dating the other two girls I had given up on to focus on her.
I guess I acted too ‘old fashioned’ by taking a risk on what I thought was the best opportunity. When that date fell apart, it was too late to revive the other two dates. What do most girls think if a guy is dating multiple girls at the same time while dating her? Is it totally acceptable in Sydney to run multiple dating from the girl’s perspective? Peter Pan

Nice to see you again Mr Pan, but three chicks in one week? Holy moly, you’re dedicated (or just have a death wish, I’m not sure which). While I actually think multiple dating is a perfect way to clobber the self esteem of everyone involved, it seems pretty socially acceptable to juggle dates like tennis balls these days. And please, don’t give me that, ‘I felt less attracted to her’ baloney. You were three-timing her only days before you found out she was two-timing you! My opinion, for what it’s worth: ask Girl 3 if she wants to be exclusive, and if she agrees, go to the pub, drink margaritas and commence living happily ever after. Capice?

Love, reality chick

Blinded by ex sex

Reality chick, I need your help. I broke up with my ex two months ago. Last week, he texted me to wish me happy birthday and told me he was still thinking about me and we agreed to catch up on sunday. It was a bit weird at first, but with wine helping, we had a good day at the end. We talked a lot and we tried to see what was wrong and I'm kind of still attracted to him, and him me. Shall I add he's seeing someone else, but can't commit to her coz of me (so he says). Anyway he came back to my place, and the rest is history ... So now I don't know, because I know if I ask him to get back together he will in a minute and even told me he had bought a ring! I know he's not right for me, but he loves me and would do anything for me, I might never meet a guy who really loves me like he does, who knows. But we might end up patching things up and sort things out if I really want things to work out. What's your advice? Confused chick

When I broke up with my ex – who I knew wasn’t the right one for me at all - I put myself on a strict ‘no-contact’ diet. That meant, no texts, no calls, no IM, no emails. For 60 days. That way, I wouldn’t be tempted to meet up with him, and whoops, accidentally shag him. Oh, yes, even superheros have secret ex-sex. It feels great at the time, floods your body with fabulous endorphins and reminds you of all the things you liked about him and how he could always find your hot spots. But – you must remind yourself of why you broke up with him in the first place - and I assume it was you doing the walking sister. In my book, no amount of ‘well, he really loves me, maybe we can make it work? Wine seems to help and he has a nice ring,’ is enough to patch it up if it just ain’t right. PS: After the 60 no contact period, I’d moved on and so had he. Fancy that.

Love, reality chick