Cast Blog: #MISSADVISED

How Soon is Too Soon?

Wake-Up Call

Just Say Yes

Self Sabotage?

Breakdown Breakthrough

Changing for the Better

Dinner Date

Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde

In Treatment

Prom!

Blindsided

Threesomes Please Apply

Witchy Woman

The More the Merrier

Fear of Rejection

Fire Away

Great Lake State

Your Love is My Drug

Never Initiate

Horrifically Brutal

Stripped

Carrie Bradshaw Complex

You've Been Advised

No Exceptions

How Soon is Too Soon?

Emily Morse shares her thoughts on how long to wait before sex.

Have I mentioned that I love what I do for a living? I mean, I really do. For so many reasons, but I’ll pick one for now: one of the best parts of my job is hearing from my listeners. I read all your emails and try to answer all your questions during my podcast and radio show Sex With Emily on my website. One of the questions I most commonly get asked is: “When should I sleep with him?” This question has come up several times over the past few episodes of Miss Advised and again tonight.



“Are you going to sleep with David?” Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was asked this question by every single person I encountered on tonight’s episode. So I figured you probably wanted to know as well. Well, I can’t tell you until next week’s finale episode, but I can tell you this about the notion of sex and timing: it’s always best to wait as long as you can. Sure, we all get attracted to people and want to sleep with them. It’s human nature. While I don’t believe in the stereotypical dating rules, I do believe that when it comes to sex, it’s best to wait. Here’s why.

There are emotional consequences involved when we sleep with someone too soon and not all of them are particularly desirable. Sex does change the relationship dynamics by nature of, well, nature. Meaning we immediately get biologically hooked on the sex. When we start having sex with someone too soon, specifically women, we immediately become attached.

The “love” drugs (including oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine) fire rapidly, bathing our brains in these “feel good” hormones. Which is exactly why they say love is blind: sex can literally shield us from seeing our new partner as they truly are. This is especially bad during a time when we need to see them most clearly, so you won’t miss major character traits (for example those pesky red flags). These crazy love drugs are released after we have sex with someone and can sometimes prematurely attach us to the wrong people, because we are really attached to the sex.

Making the decision about when to sleep with someone should be taken with greater mental acuity than just following what feels good in the moment. Take the time to get to know someone, see if you’re on the same page about what you want out of your new “connection,” and take it from there.

Talk about where the relationship is going before you sleep with someone. Even if the “relationship” is a one night stand, you should speak up ahead of time. Sex does change the dynamic. There’s no way around it. Tonight’s episode also highlights the age old question, “Do you believe in the one?” I believe there are many “ones.” People come into our lives for different reasons. They can teach us lessons about ourselves and our world if we choose to pay attention. Some of those people are in for a lifetime and others for a few days.

The notion of finding one person to fill all our needs is what’s most troubling. There is no “magic bullet” of a perfect person. No one can fill all our needs, it’s just not possible. So the belief that goes along with “the one” has potential to be a giant fallacy or disappointment sending legions of women on wild goose chases to find their soul mates.

There are people who mate for life. In fact, I’m in awe of these couples. But just because there are happy, lifelong couples doesn’t mean there is only one person for them.

For example, think about divorce or death of a loved one and finding love again. Does this mean the past partner wasn’t really the one? I believe there are many ones for all of us. We might only find one person, and that sure saves a lot of time, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there who could fit the bill.

I’ve found in my life that I’ve had many meaningful, intellectual, playful, sexual, and non-sexual relationships with people that have felt soulmate-esque.

You know, those people that you connect with on another worldly level throughout a lifetime who come and go. I believe that love is infinite, and we have the ability to truly love many people. Oh and what's with Menace’s interrogation of my date. “Have you masturbated to Emily yet?” he asks David over drinks. Did I really just hear that? I thought they were going to get out a ruler and measure their um... feet after that conversation.

You can always email your sex and relationship questions to me, through my website, on Twitter @sexwithemily, Facebook, or feedback@sexwithemily.com. I love hearing from you. You can also listen and subscribe to all of my podcasts here.

Can’t wait to hear what you think about Miss Advised and tonight’s episode.

xxx,
Emily

Breakdown Breakthrough

Julia Allison think Andrew did the right thing being honest with her.

Well, hello there! Welcome to the penultimate episode of this first season of Miss Advised. Only one week left until the finale in which... Oh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? This episode finds us back at my house in Marina del Rey surrounded by my ELLE editor (Keith) and a lovely ELLE photographer who can’t stop laughing at my ridiculous bedroom/closet/home/life. Sigh.

Photo shoots with new photographers make me self-conscious as it is, but to have one conducted by ELLE (in my own home, which tends to veer toward the eccentric) was beyond nerve-wracking. My mother was in town at the time, and I felt like she wouldn’t be thrilled with the concept of a photoshoot (She thinks they are “frivolous” and “self-indulgent” -- even though the shoot was my editor Keith’s idea). My nerves stemmed from that, along with anxiety thanks to a confluence of stresses, most notably my blocked writing. So much so that I was breaking out and stress eating. Not exactly what you want prior to a photo shoot.

Plus, Keith sort of...rolled his eyes at my closet. It’s not often you have your boss in your closet, but when you do, you definitely don’t want him to react like that. Especially if he works at a prominent fashion magazine. You start wondering if you just aren’t cool enough to exist, let alone write for said magazine. In a misguided attempt at "cool," the first outfit I tried on for the photo-shoot was this Rachel Zoe maxi skirt in blue (not pink!), which I paired with a simple white tee. It was a look that felt a lot more hip than I actually am. Ironically dressing that way made me uncomfortable. It just didn’t feel ME. But when I put on a vintage pink dress and sat (upon Keith’s request) in a pile of pink tulle on my bed, tiara in my hair, somehow I felt like myself again.

My editor chastised me about my taste (both in fashion and in home decor), but at the end of the day, I sleep in my bedroom every night, and I have to live with myself. Keith doesn’t! I figure it’s more important I like my own space than if anyone else does. Besides, it’s a great litmus test. If something as silly as a pink bedroom or a proclivity toward occasionally wearing frothy dresses scares a guy away, then I’m not convinced he was worth the trouble in the first place!I hope every woman realizes this: you don’t have to smooth away all your “eccentric” personality traits to find the right man. If he’s right for you, he’ll love you FOR those eccentricities, as long as you’re not counting “being a total bitch” amongst them.

As for the writer’s block I discussed with Keith: I DID eventually get through it, although it took some serious work with therapists regarding my anxiety and self-esteem issues. So far, I’ve published seven columns on ELLE.com (it will be eight by the end of the Guinea Pig of Love series, next week) each written at 2,000 words (they ended up getting edited down to 1,000 or so). You can read them all here. For someone who has been as tortured by writing as I have recently, getting through these is a victory for me. I know it could always come back, but at least I’ve won the battle. Next up: trying to win the war!

Ah, and now for the slightly more depressing portion of this episode -- my ill-advised (if you will) trip to San Francisco to see Mister Andrew. So, about Andrew. Sigh. I don’t know where to begin, but suffice it to say that although it seemed that trip was fast, it really wasn’t. Since the first “PROMMM!” date, we had spent time together, including weekend trips. We talked frequently on the phone and sent zillions of texts and emails. He played me music on his guitar and cooked dinner. I had met his friends and he had met mine. It was time to have that talk. You know, the dreaded “where is this going?” talk. I’m not a huge fan of those talks, but things were getting (as Andrew put it during that conversation) “to that depth” where we needed to discuss it. But Andrew did me a favor, and as much as it hurt at the time, for that I thank him. He didn’t feel that he could fall in love with me, and while that wasn’t what I wanted to hear then, it certainly was the right thing for him to say, because it was true. What if he had led me on, allowing me to develop deeper and deeper feelings that he didn’t reciprocate? That would have been brutal and kept me from being able to heal and move on to find someone who COULD fall in love with me. Andrew is a good man, and he couldn’t do that.

I cried quite a bit when Andrew broke up with me. (Oh, let’s be honest, when Andrew dumped me.) But it wasn’t just over Andrew. I started crying over Andrew and segued into crying over every guy who had EVER dumped me, and then from there into every relationship that hadn’t worked out, and from THERE into a future filled with men who would dump me and relationships that wouldn’t work out. It was quite a cry I had, and poor Andrew sat there rubbing my back, wondering what the hell was going on. Had he accidentally killed my puppy? No, I explained to him later. This is simply how women grieve (some women...sometimes). We stack all of these terrible things on top of one another, one after the other after the other, until it feels like our romantic lives are doomed, like we won’t ever succeed, like we won’t ever be loved. It was as if everything I’ve ever feared I looked at and felt completely and totally throughout my body. I grieved for every end I’ve ever had.

And here’s the strange part -- after I sobbed for about half an hour (and drunk half a bottle of champagne), I felt inexplicably better. Like I had gotten it out of my system. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was certainly cathartic. I had been holding in so much pain, so much fear, so much disappointment and regret over my love life, and Andrew was pretty much the last straw to a mini-breakdown. A breakdown I needed to have, as it turns out, to have a breakthrough.What breakthrough, you ask?

Oh, about that. Well, you’ll just have to wait until the season finale for that!



P.S. That slap? That was just a joke. Even in moments of sadness and disappointment we can (and should) laugh.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME ONLINE (if you want to read more!)

Me: @JuliaAllison / Facebook.com/JuliaAllison / www.JuliaAllison.com / JA@JuliaAllison.com: email me!

 

My roommate, JP: @JuliaPriceMusic / YouTube.com/JuliaMusic1 / Facebook.com/juliapricemusic / www.JuliaPriceMusic.com