hot action

Saturday night at the Marquee Club. I get off work, get a drink, sit down, relax. Pretty soon I'm having a conversation that it seems like I've had a couple of times recently:

"Man, Nicole is so hot."
"Hmm. I don't think she likes you very much."
"Yeah. What's up with that? It seemed so awesome when we were together... I thought it was wonderful."
"I think she cared about you."
"I totally cared about her."
"And then you went and slept with someone else."
"Hang on, now... She knew exactly what I was all about. She even used to say things like she found my promiscuity 'intriguing' and stuff like that."
"Well... I guess she couldn't handle it."

Just wanted to say that, if I care about someone, I still care about them while they're sleeping with someone else.

Posted by philip at 01:47 AM | Permalink

Posted yesterday by Andrea over at rocketdreams:

I would like to say to somebody, someday: So, you wanna go somewhere and make out?

I wanted to write about this, since I make a career out of this sort of thing, but first I thought a bit of research was necessary. Here is what transpired between me and a total stranger half an hour ago as I was walking up Barrington Street:

her: [stare]
me: [stare]
her: You're cute.
me: You too. Wanna go somewhere and make out?

And that was all it took and it was totally hot until an embarrassed Sam the Record Man employee came upon us in a doorway.

Andrea, the secret of that question is that nobody ever says no. It doesn't necessarily mean that anything will wind up happening, but as long as you have eye contact and a smile, you can't go wrong. Especially with strangers... making out is the best icebreaker.

I'm running late for work but I hope this anecdote gives you some inspiration. My brain is still singing. Follow your dreams, because life is what you make it.

Posted by philip at 07:03 PM | Permalink

"I was warned to stay away from you." And so begins another successful affair.

While we're at it, I'd also like to propose a toast to my many enemies in Halifax. In your ignorance of female psychology, you make my life so much simpler.

Posted by philip at 10:55 PM | Permalink

Let's have a toast for the oblivious boyfriends of the world.

Posted by philip at 10:27 PM | Permalink

"There are indeed very few things better than truly fantastic food...."

Amen to that. I love food. I have a crazy metabolism and I'm hungry all the time. I could just eat and eat and eat; totally gorge myself and then be hungry again fifteen minutes later. (Similar to certain other of my basic drives.) My weight hasn't changed in ten years--64 kilograms of lean, mean snogging machine--because I burn it all so quickly. I just can't get enough.

The upshot of all this: I develop a crazy crush on any woman who feeds me. We're talking wide-eyed adoration here. "I was just thinking I'd throw together something to eat, are you hungry?" Ohhh yes my dahling.

I have sex in kitchens a lot. Plus, I fall for waitresses like you wouldn't believe. "Care for anything for dessert?"

Posted by philip at 04:01 PM | Permalink

My stomach is one of the most erogenous parts of my body. I don't usually mention this, because it's fun to have women find out for themselves, but what the hell. My orgasms originate in the diaphragm and explode outward to every particle in the known universe.

Posted by philip at 04:01 PM | Permalink

My goodness; the comments pages were getting a little messy. Fortunately, today is garbage day on Bloomfield Street.

Posted by philip at 08:01 PM | Permalink

"Mmm... you smell good."

Five sexy scents to get me going:
-- patchouli
-- Big Red gum
-- bacon & eggs
-- Poison (the perfume)
-- pussy

Posted by philip at 11:57 AM | Permalink

"I'm sure you can remember some opportunities when you really could have been a little bit more aggressive....."

Unfortunately, I have to err on the side of caution these days. I live in a conservative little city (Halifax, Nova Scotia). Even within my hip music scene social circle, people still tend to be pretty uptight about sexual matters. Folks thrive on gossip here.

Now that I've set up shop as a public sexual persona, I feel like my activities are being constantly scrutinized. Imagine how it feels to open up your weekly newspaper and see that anonymous people have taken out ads saying things like "Philip Clark got shot down by three women at once" or "Screw the Philip Clark fan club."

A result of this is that I'm careful about coming on aggressively to strangers. The haters would love to get their hands on a story about Philip the predator making nasty unwanted advances on some defenceless young thing. I don't want to give them the satisfaction.

If I suspect I might be attracted to someone, my initial response is to be aloof to the point of apparent indifference. I'll hang back and make careful observations. Sometimes interest cools quickly. Timing is very important.

A hot woman is one who is impossible to ignore.

Posted by philip at 01:31 AM | Permalink

I will tend to be attracted to women who put me at ease and who make it easy for me to be my natural self. And "being my natural self" involves over-the-top flirting.

So once the ice is broken, yes... I would gladly grab you by the hair and haul you back to my cave.

Posted by philip at 01:23 AM | Permalink

The North End is the hottest neighbourhood in Halifax. You shouldn't have to go all the way to the South End to get laid. It's almost bad luck.

Posted by philip at 01:09 AM | Permalink

Do You Two Know Each Other? Showed up so late, but it's who you leave with that defines a date. I can tell by that look you'll be throwing your romance away again. We shake hands: new plans. I don't think your friends are going to understand. We'll make our escape by smashing through a window pane. You followed me downstairs, and now you can't go back up with all that shit in your hair... we might as well resign ourselves; I'll forgive the last time's suck-and-tell...what the hell. In the taxi, a battle: South Street is too far to travel. I know I'll regret it if I have to leave the 'hood again.

Wipe that memory off your face, like a lipstick trace. Give me something to forget again. Just when I swore that I wouldn't make any more mistakes, a lingering touch kills all my resolve, again.

Shake hands... new plans. I don't think your friends are gonna understand.

Posted by philip at 01:08 AM | Permalink

I can't imagine calling the new A/V disc anything other than "Hot Action."

Posted by philip at 01:08 AM | Permalink

"You're really hot."
"No I'm not."

"You're really hot."
"I'm sure you say that to all your ladies."

"You're really hot."
[rolls eyes] "Whatever."

...On the other hand:

"You're really hot."
[mysterious smile] "Thank you."

Lately I've noticed that I get turned on by women who accept compliments graciously. It implies a certain confidence that seems to translate well to a naked situation.

Whereas when a woman rejects a compliment, it sets up a psychological barrier, a slight dissonance that can throw the whole project off-balance.

I love it when women enjoy compliments because it makes me feel like I'm free to say what I'm thinking. I also feel like I have permission to be generous in other ways.

Posted by philip at 10:29 PM | Permalink

Not too long ago I was having a conversation with a total stranger and all of a sudden I blurted out, "You're really foxy." And she said, "Qui... moi?"

And we looked at each other, and it felt like little birds were twittering around my head.

Posted by philip at 10:29 PM | Permalink

Yes, you're beautiful. Yes, I say that to all my ladies. So what? All it means is that I only hang out with beautiful women.

It doesn't make it any less special. You can be beautiful and still be unique.

Posted by philip at 09:28 PM | Permalink