r e a l i t y c h i c k

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372871282009-04-28T10:57:03.201+10:00r e a l i t y c h i c ksetting the record straight on sex, love, dating, romance, relationships and everything in between!reality chicknoreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-1157204017550021632009-03-23T08:16:00.004+11:002009-03-23T08:35:00.103+11:00The art of the random pick-up

When you think about it, the casual pick-up is usually a long shot. Someone spots you in the supermarket and does the bananas-facing-up in the trolley thing (did ANYONE ever try that?), zeroes in on you at the bar or tries to start a conversation by the barbell station at the gym. If these out-of-the-blue pick-up merchants come off as a little creepy, you generally leg it as far away from them as

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-43328607094377263012008-07-16T13:38:00.004+10:002008-07-16T13:49:29.104+10:00Yes, even superheros need holidays

Hey there folks. Just wanted to drop you a quick line to say that I will be packing away my cape for the next five or six weeks as I jet off overseas to rest, revive and drink as many cocktails as humanely possible.But do not despair: I will be back with news of my many adventures at the end of August. Keep safe peeps.Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!Love,reality chick

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-16405157304686557552008-07-09T16:38:00.005+10:002008-07-09T17:03:54.642+10:00A scrub in time...

The other night I tried very hard to avoid eavesdropping on my neighbours as they fought about who should wash up the breakfast dishes. OK, I’m lying; I totally opened the window so I could hear them better. But seeing you all know about my inexcusably nosy side already let’s focus on the issue at hand: how the sexes view the dishes. Her overall tack was: ‘Why can’t you see the dishes are sitting

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-81272059671691504432008-07-02T12:24:00.004+10:002008-07-02T12:36:13.553+10:00Meet the parents

Meeting your partner’s family is a biggie. And trying too hard to make a semi-decent impression is a surefire bet that something dodgy will go down. I’m about to meet my boyfriend’s family for the first time and while I’m hoping I won’t accidentally set fire to the house or give one of his siblings a black eye (a la Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents) there’s a good chance I’ll spill food on my

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-20399527618265093912008-06-03T13:56:00.004+10:002008-06-04T09:32:51.788+10:00He says, she says

Women will never understand men. And vice versa. Think about it: just like they don’t get our eyelash curlers or our pre-menstrual weeping at toilet paper ads with cute puppies, we’ll always be baffled by their weird little quirks. But I’m not about to do some bloke-bashing without letting the other team have their say, so RC regular Captain Canada has kindly offered his caveman logic. (Emphasis

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-74983835953818818642008-05-29T11:45:00.005+10:002008-05-30T16:00:23.951+10:00Make mine a Brazilian

If the title didn’t tip you off, here’s a second warning: stop reading if you’re at all squeamish about that hallowed hallmark of womanhood: The Brazilian Wax.I used to have a friend who’d routinely book Brazilian appointments for me, while I’d routinely cancel them. She was pro-Braz; I was anti anything that involved wax and/or pain anywhere near my privates. She swore it would change my life. I

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-51090090455061000422008-05-23T11:19:00.002+10:002008-05-23T11:21:47.008+10:00Movie Sex

So, the SATC movie is upon us. Hallelujah. I’ve just about grown tired of Arena’s Ground Hog Day re-runs, so I’ll be hot-footing it to the cinema to buy a giant bag of Malteasers and see how the Manhattan quartet are faring. But I’m not going to go all Margaret and David on you. I’d like to talk numbers. Yes, that’s right. Statistics. Oooh. Sexy. Some very interesting stats have come to my

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-26758100501382267172008-05-09T11:39:00.005+10:002008-05-09T12:09:28.987+10:00Brutal honesty?

One of my favourite moments in cinema when Tom Cruise is having problems with his deeply unpleasant girlfriend Avery in Jerry Maguire. Just before she punches him in the nose and unceremoniously dumps him, she reminds him they had a deal in their relationship. Avery: “Our deal was brutal honesty.”Jerry: “I think you added the brutal part.”Avery: “There is a sensitivity thing that some people have

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-72648927460438958002008-05-06T10:52:00.002+10:002008-05-06T10:55:39.514+10:00One foot in, one foot out

Crossover cowboys. That’s the term I’ve coined this week for people who don’t bother to finish their current relationship before embarking on a new one. Brazen beyond the pale, smug in the belief there’s no chance of capture and operating by logic inexplicable to anyone but themselves, crossover cowboys are to the dating world what great white sharks are to a beach full of carefree swimmers. Only

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-32391061732610530502008-05-01T11:47:00.010+10:002008-05-01T12:22:41.175+10:00The relationship you had to have

A friend of mine is ultra-successful, talented, famous and beautiful. The sort of person who is stopped on the street for autographs and earns $1000 an hour for doing something legal. Anyhoo. Throughout her life, she’s had a string of relationships she’s been completely in charge of. Her boyfriends have loved her utterly and been at her beck and call 24-7. And so, they bored her to tears. In

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-6125847249734018912008-04-29T09:34:00.007+10:002008-04-29T11:51:45.511+10:00Questions you should never ask

Death by curly question. We've all been there. Compelled to ask, crushed by the reply: it's a brutal lesson not as easy to learn as you may expect - and can easily lead to bad feelings, possible untruths, denials and your evening exploding like a TV dinner you shoved in the microwave before taking the foil off. Let’s examine some types of questions you probably don’t want the answer to. Ever.'Do

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-56597185653758964872008-04-23T20:47:00.008+10:002008-04-24T17:14:19.824+10:00Footwear, schmootwear

Confession: I’m living with Imelda Marcos. Well, the male version at any rate. And can I say just how embarrassing it is having a boyfriend with a better shoe collection than mine. I know it’s largely my fault – getting to your 30s without learning how to teeter properly in impossibly skinny stilettos is disgraceful, much like not knowing how to use a cocktail shaker or blag your way into a

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-20095715941212328992008-04-15T08:45:00.005+10:002008-04-15T09:01:35.712+10:00

Greetings, dear readers. In lieu of a column, RC is answering your burning questions... keep 'em coming people! Under the coversI recently went on holiday with my new boyfriend and discovered we are completely mis-matched in the bookstore. He brought: Don’t Tell My Mum I Work on the Rigs (She Thinks I Play Piano in a Whorehouse), a boys' own yarn by Paul Carter about working in the oil industry.

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-34671694784156050212008-04-08T20:51:00.004+10:002008-04-08T20:55:01.601+10:00Let's go outside

While watching the latest version of Lady Chatterly’s Lover the other day – and jotting down some creative notes about nudity and wildflower usage – I realised it was time I turned my superhero scrutiny onto a topic I haven’t really delved into much before: the intriguing, titillating and downright saucy notion of doing the wild thing in the actual wild. Forget about alfresco dining; alfresco

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-41220146662696151242008-04-03T12:37:00.003+11:002008-04-03T12:43:19.156+11:00By the book…

Reality chick had to cover this little modern day dilemma eventually. Facebook. Don’t pretend you don’t spend half your life on it updating your status to ‘eating cookies and cutting my toenails’, adding the ‘Send Care Bears’ application, posting up pictures of your latest holiday in order to make your 78 friends really jealous or changing your profile pic to a moody snap of a windswept beach.

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-41351991393307364212008-04-01T16:08:00.007+11:002008-07-09T16:59:54.828+10:00Just like a woman... not

Voyeuristic is my middle name, so hearing about other people’s weird sexual obsessions is something of a personal hobby. Couples who dress up as dogs on the weekend and go 'play' in the woods. Foot fetishes to rival Quentin Tarantino’s. But my hands-down favourite is definitely men who buy love dolls in lieu of conducting a real relationship.The Real Doll phenomenon is alive and well in a film

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-61017532379438583952008-03-28T11:58:00.000+11:002008-03-28T12:01:01.722+11:00If the dress fits...

Wedding dress shopping. If you’ve seen Muriel’s Wedding you’d think it would be a joyous occasion with gorgeous, ethereal gowns, gushing sales assistants and the odd glass of festive champagne. But for many brides to be shopping for a dress for their big day is up there with losing a family pet in terms of emotional distress and need for immediate valium and chardonnay inhalation. I know. I was

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-88364866542929190392008-03-25T18:33:00.001+11:002008-03-25T18:36:02.257+11:00Food fights

Forget money, sex, late hours or family dramas: the latest thing ripping couples apart is... wait for it... food.It’s a bold statement, granted, but just look at all the dietary differences these days. Carnivores, vegans, white-meat-only eaters, gluten-free enthusiasts, to name a few. You only have to look at the woman who put the sex back into spoon licking – gourmet glamour puss Nigella Lawson

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-71851199989322527582008-03-20T11:14:00.002+11:002008-03-20T11:18:57.591+11:00Sweetie…it’s your turn for Choreplay

Recently I first heard the delicious new word – choreplay. For those of you not familiar with the term, the urban dictionary describes it as follows: 1. Choreplay: When a woman is turned on by the sight of her husband / boyfriend / partner doing regular household chores, which she would normally be doing. Eg, "Last night, it was all about choreplay. I was all 'OH YEAH, fold that laundry. Oh yes,

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-76989440006579024082008-03-18T16:50:00.009+11:002008-03-19T09:35:11.962+11:00Was their relationship in the toilet?

I'm always up for hearing about weird and wacky relationship stories. That said, I can't be the only one still troubled by 35-year-old Kansas woman Pam Babcock, who sat on her boyfriend’s loo for two years. She sat there so long, in fact, that her butt became part of the loo itself and she had to be carted off to hospital still attached to the seat. Which sucks.Obviously, Toilet Seat Girl has

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-70658979156911956382008-03-13T12:10:00.003+11:002008-03-13T12:13:20.743+11:00Rise of the freemale

Okay, hands up single ladies! Who wants to be a housewife and mother? No? Come on. Surely you don’t mind giving up watching America’s Next Top Model in your pajamas at 3pm, eating nutella out of the jar and contemplating your Saturday night out with the girls to ferry the kids to soccer training, get dinner ready and pop on another load of washing? It seems that a new trend is emerging amongst

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-64672179766010561762008-03-11T19:17:00.004+11:002008-03-11T19:28:20.659+11:00The fast and the furious

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a nosy superhero, it’s that many of us (yes, yes, myself included) need a serious sex de-brief 101. We freak out that it’s too often/not often enough, we agonise over telling/not telling our raunchiest fantasies and we think something’s amiss if our sexcapades aren’t two-hour flesh-fests complete with candles, appropriate music and enough positions to leave

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-12141783376173683612008-03-06T21:51:00.005+11:002008-03-06T21:56:16.710+11:00Ranger wants a wife

Howdy folks. I’ve been doing a bit of travelling of late ... when you have a cape it’s not too far to fly off to a safari in Africa ... and anyway, whilst I was snapping photos of lions, rhinos and cheetahs, I discovered another endangered spieces: single, straight, handsome men in their late 20s and early 30s, just desperate to meet a nice gal. I was just peeking through my binoculars and there

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-12903453313845228962008-03-04T16:34:00.004+11:002008-03-04T16:53:20.338+11:00Tick tock tick tock

Hardly a month goes by when I don't have a conversation with a friend who is or has been in the Biological-Clock-Ticking-Must-Act-Now Boat (BCTMANB). In fact, it’s fair to say most single thirty-something women stress quite a bit about Mr Right, kids and missing out on both.My mum’s theory is that men don’t really grow up until they’re forty and while I don't quite agree, if she's in any way

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37287128.post-13252796873469980392008-02-28T18:05:00.004+11:002008-02-28T18:13:22.764+11:00Ahhh, 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

reality chicknoreply@blogger.com2