Keep the Neighbors out of Your Sex Life

February 29, 2008

Remember the good old days when the word “neighbor” had a very Norman Rockwell-esque feel to it?  You could borrow a cup of sugar from your neighbor.  They’d bring you a fresh baked pie to welcome you to the neighborhood when you moved in.  You could throw a wave to the guy next door mowing his lawn and give him a great big, “Hiya, neighbor!”


Not anymore.


Today many of our neighbors are strangers put on this earth to annoy us.  They park in our spots.  They dump our laundry on the floor when they want the dryer.  They play “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White Tees on repeat at full blast for hours on end.  Basically torture.


Worst of all, they’re always all up in our business—and when you have an active casual sex life like me, it’s not a good thing.  Nosey neighbors can make life pretty uncomfortable not just for you, but for your sex-guest as well.  And you don’t have to have a flashing neon sign above your front door that says, “Casa De Promiscuous” for the neighbors to take interest in your sex life either.  Sometimes they do it all on their own.  It takes the term “neighborhood watch” to a whole new level.


We try to hide our sexual romps from the neighbors because we don’t want them passing judgment on us.  Just because we have multiple sex partners doesn’t mean we want our neighbors to know it.  Some of you dudes out there might think it’s cool to have the neighbors saying, “Man, he’s got a different girl there every night!” thinking it gives you some kind of studly street cred.  Women, on the other hand, probably don’t want or need that kind of attention for fear of being unfairly labeled as a tramp.  Next thing you know at the association meetings you’re referred to as, “the slut down the hall.”  As appealing as that description might be to me, it probably won’t do much for your self esteem.


But unless your pad has a hidden Bat Cave-like entrance they’re bound to see different faces come and go. They’ll figure out that either you’re running a crack house or you have an active sex life.  Now that only becomes an issue for you; your date generally isn’t aware or affected by the neighbor issue—unless, of course, your neighbors take it up a notch by engaging your guest.  Once as a booty call was approaching my door my drunk next-door neighbor yelled out to her, “So what number are you?”  Guess who didn’t get any sex that night?


What’s worse, not only can the neighbors see your date coming and going, but they might actually see the dirty deed itself.  Of course having sex on the hood of your car in driveway is just asking for trouble but maybe it’s simply an innocent slip like forgetting to close the blinds.  Believe me when I say that there’s nothing more horrifying for your date than looking out the window and seeing your backyard neighbor looking through their window right back at you doing the standing congress position in front of the window (look it up).


You also should be concerned about not only what the neighbors see, but what they hear.  I’ve been with some “screamers” who were so loud during sex that they’d give an opera tenor a run for their money.  That’s a problem when you live in a condo or apartment with walls as thick as a Post-It note.  There’s a group of teenage boys who are always in their driveway playing basketball next door.  One time they obviously heard the sexscapades going on in my living room because they all started laughing and moaning like my date did as she left my place and walked to her car.  Needless to say she never came back.


Sometimes we bring the neighbor issues on ourselves—like when we have sex with one.  It’s a disaster just waiting to happen.  I once had sex with a neighbor and after the relationship went bad every time I saw her she’d grill me about who the car in my driveway the night before belonged to.  It got to the point where I had to peek through the blinds every time I took out the garbage to see if the coast was clear like I was in the witness protection program.  That’s no way to live.


So even though we can do simple things to ward off nosey neighbors like making sure the blinds are closed, we can’t eliminate it all.  I suppose it’s the price we pay to live the single casual sex lifestyle.  It comes with the territory.  The key is making it comfortable for your guests.  Limit their exposure to the drunk neighbor or the mocking teens next door.  Keep scaring them away and trust me, there’ll be no more sex for the neighbors to talk about.


Better yet, deflect the awkwardness back on them.  If you notice a neighbor judgmentally staring at you as your date walks in your house just flash them a big smile, wave, and yell, “That’s right!  And what are YOU doing tonight?!?”


You can find out more about Jon at www.jonibrahim and make sure to check out his podcasts “The Fireman & the Shrink” and all the other cool sex stuff on NBC5’s Better Sex page at  You can email Jon at


Drunk Girls: Should You or Shouldn’t You?

February 21, 2008

Some lessons in life you always remember–like never drink beer and wine in the same night, never fall asleep with gum in your mouth, and most importantly, never ask a woman when her due date is unless you’re certain she’s actually pregnant.  Trust me you only make that mistake once.


Despite my occasional wayward ways I’d say Mama Ibrahim taught me pretty well.  Her biggest lesson was a simple one:  always do the right thing.  Even today as a firefighter I’m expected to always do exactly that.

The problem is that doing the right thing isn’t always easy.  There’s always temptation tugging at that thin line between “should I” and “I shouldn’t.”  Never has that been truer than with sex.

Here’s a scenario I’m sure most dudes can relate to:  a few weeks ago a buddy and I were out at Red No. 5 and we met a couple girls from out of town.  Several bars, shots, and sexual innuendos later the end of the night approached and it was time to seal the deal.  Problem was the girl I was mackin’ with was obviously wasted.  Outside her hotel she either began speaking to me in Portuguese or her speech was just slurred and she was asking me upstairs to her room.  I’m pretty sure it was the latter.

Here’s where that whole “doing the right thing” dilemma comes in:  should you or shouldn’t you have sex with a drunk girl?

Of course that tiny horny devil on our shoulders say, “Hell yes you do!”  But his nemesis, the tiny angel on the opposite shoulder chimes in with, “Come on; you know better than that, little mister!”  Worlds collide.

Of course the most obvious issue is the moral dilemma.  You know—that whole thing about how a guy should never take advantage of girls when they’re drunk–and generally I agree with that.  But is it really taking advantage?  What if I was really drunk too?  Couldn’t the same argument be said that her having sex with me meant she was taking advantage of me in a drunken state too?  So if both of us are equally tanked no one is really taking advantage of either.  Anything to the contrary is a double standard.

And besides, based on the vibes and sexual chemistry that was brewin’ I was pretty sure we were going to hook-up even before she was wasted.  So should all that go out the window just because she got sloshed?

Since morality isn’t really my strong suit I looked at the problem logistically.  Sure drunken sex can be fun because people tend to come out of their shells and get a little freakier, but some pretty horrifying things can happen too.  Like one time a girl was so hammered that she passed out on me while we were going at it.  Let me tell ya, nothing obliterates your ego like hearing your partner snore while you’re going down on her.  And yes, I’ve even had a super-drunk girl throw up in my bed.


And then there’s the morning.  Not only do you feel like someone stuffed a wad of dryer lint in your mouth from the hangover, but you may also have to face the possibility that she feels regret or embarrassment from her behavior.  I don’t really dig the idea of being the source of someone else’s shame.  I do just fine on my own.

And besides, what kind of accomplishment is scoring with a drunk girl anyway?  Part of the excitement of having sex with someone new is knowing you made it happen, but with a drunk girl it doesn’t take much effort.  It’s like a huge rainbow trout jumping into your fishing boat.  Sure you can hang it over your fireplace like you caught it, but the thrill just isn’t the same.

Drunk girls kinda make me sick anyway.  They’re such a turnoff.  You know the ones I’m talking about—the drunken Lincoln Park Trixies with the slurred speech and loud squeaky voices—the ones who spill their drinks as they thrust their glasses in the air to cheer whenever the DJ plays “Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC—the ones who, in a drunken state, make out with other girls just to shock the guys—the ones who are overly hugging you one minute and crying for no apparent reason the next.  Can drunk guys be obnoxious too?  Absolutely.  But hey, my blog, my rules.

So although doing the right thing can be hard, I think it’s a no-brainer in the case of whether or not to have sex with drunk girls.  Feeling a little loose or buzzed is one thing, but when her blood/alcohol content reaches Tara Reid-like levels it isn’t worth the slew of issues that go with it.  You don’t need sex that bad.

I’ll drink to that.


Find out more about Jon at and check out his podcasts “The Fireman & the Shrink” and all the other great sex stuff on NBC5’s Better Sex page at  You can email Jon at

Rage Against the Valentine’s Day Machine

February 14, 2008

Ah, Valentine’s Day:  a day devoted to celebrating the love and adoration we hold for our significant other.  A day where romance fills the air and warms the soul.  A day where even the hardest of hearts can believe that true love is indeed possible.


What a load of crap!


Just typing the above paragraph made me want to projectile vomit.  To me Valentine’s Day is one of the worst days there is, falling somewhere between Income Tax Day and the day I got a colonoscopy.  For years I’ve tolerated Valentine’s Day malarkey like the nauseating Jared Diamond commercials or seeing some chump pay big bucks to get “Bob Loves Michelle” on the scoreboard at the United Center.  As if watching the Bulls and Blackhawks isn’t painful enough.


I refuse to take it anymore!


Now ladies, if you print this out, show it to your man, and ask him if he agrees with me. He’ll probably say, “No way, baby, he’s a crazy man,” but trust me when I say that he secretly dreads the rapid approach of the hell that is Feb. 14th.  Why you ask?  Well for one, it’s the whole gift-giving thing.  It has nothing to do with the cost either; it’s the significance.  They know this year’s gift has got to be better than last year’s, because in a woman’s over-analytical mind, a down-graded gift from last year means your feelings for her have downgraded too.  If you show up with a plastic vase full of the finest flowers Walgreen’s has to offer you probably shouldn’t plan on having sex anytime in the near future.


Audio Podcast: The Fireman and the Shrink Discuss Valentine’s Day


Not only does the poor dude have to worry about his own gift, he has to worry about the gifts his girlfriend’s friends got from their men.  Women are insanely competitive with each other.  She’d love for nothing more than to know that she got the best VD gift than the other women in her circle of friends.  If you come home with a bouquet of heart-shaped foil balloons as a gift for your girl and her best friend got a trip to Cabo, you’re gonna have major issues, pal.


Ladies, why would you even want a gift anyway?  The sincerity of it is watered down.  He didn’t buy it as a symbol of his affection for you.  It was out of obligation so he doesn’t get in hot water with you.  Pretty romantic, huh?


So to avoid becoming a victim of the Valentine’s Day massacre, I celebrate my own created holiday — Anti-V.D. Day.  How?  By doing the exact opposite of what all those lovey-dovey fools do on VD.  Never take a girl out on a date on VD because she might get the wrong idea and think, “Wow he asked me out on Valentine’s Day; he must really like me!”  I remember a few years ago I made the mistake of asking a girl I was casually dating to dinner on VD.  She got all weird on me afterward because she thought my asking her out on VD was my way of saying that I wanted to dial the relationship up a notch.  Needless to say that didn’t go over very well.  I shoulda waited til the 15th.


The best way to rebel against the Valentine’s Day establishment and celebrate Anti-VD Day is instead of having a VD night filled with romance, cuddling, and an 8:30 screening of “27 Dresses,” have hot uncommitted sex with a casual partner who hates the idea of Valentine’s Day as much as you do. Trust me, they’re out there.  Since lust is the opposite of love it fits into the program nicely.


So the lesson here is to see Valentine’s Day for the sham that it is.  Ladies, don’t get so hung up on things like overanalyzing his gift or wondering if he’ll choose this day to say I love you for the first time.  Don’t take it so seriously.  After all, Valentine’s Day was never intended to be the sappy cheese-fest it is today.  In ancient Rome, on February 14th the men would run through the streets whipping women with bloody strips of sacrificed goats in some freaky mating ritual.  Maybe if we brought back customs like that Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be so popular.  We can only hope, can’t we?


Want to hear more of Jon’s views on Valentine’s Day?  Listen to the Valentine’s Day edition of his podcast “The Fireman and the Shrink,” and check out all the other great content on NBC5’s Better Sex website at  You can email Jon at and find out more about him at


Why the World Needs Me…

February 3, 2008

So check this out:  In that movie, “Superman Returns,” Superman inexplicably up and disappears for a couple years.  A jilted Lois Lane then writes a man-hating newspaper story called “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.”  Talk about a woman scorned, huh?


The sweet irony of it all is that soon the world – and Lois – painfully realize that they really do need him.  The flick closes with a regretful Lois eating her words by writing a new piece called “Why the World Needs Superman.”  This SO reminds me of me.


There’s a bunch of things me and Superman have in common, but the biggest is that, like Superman, the world needs me too.  While I can’t do much about protecting mankind from the evil clutches of Lex Luthor, what I can do is protect you from the frustrations of sex and dating gone bad.  This includes, but is not limited to, casual sex, one-nighters, friends with benefits, booty calls (or texts), and yes, even exclusive relationships if that’s your thing.


How?  Good question.  Well for those of you who know me, you’re probably familiar with my Chicago newspaper sex column, “The Sex Playbook.” For 2 ½ years my column pointed out all the idiotic—yet true to life—little things men and women do to each other in the world of sex and dating that causes way more drama than there should be.  So before I came here to my new home at NBC5, I took a short hiatus from writing, and judging by all the emails from my readers all my tips, lessons, and guidance was dearly missed.  Sex and dating in Chicago took a turn for the worst.  Like Superman, the world needed me.


For those of you who don’t know me, I’m not a PhD.  I’m not a therapist.  I don’t even like Dr. Phil.  I’m single and have never been married.  I date a lot.  Quite often actually. As the title suggests, I’m a serial dater.  That doesn’t mean I’m a player or a womanizer.  It simply means I’ve had the sex and dating volume required to have enough experience to draw from—both good and bad.  You’ll get to learn from my successes and horror stories…and damn there’s a lot of em.  You’re gonna get to know what I know.  What can I say; I’m a humanitarian.


While women will definitely benefit from my insight, my column and blog are geared more toward men.  Being a firefighter we believe deeply in brotherhood so I feel obligated to help my fellow brothers because let’s face it, when it comes to sex men are pretty stupid.  They let Big Willie and the twins do way more of their thinking than they should.  They need all the help they can get because it’s easy to get lost.  They need someone to show them the way.  That’s where I come in.  I’m like a human sexual navigation system.


And don’t agree with my man-dissin’ just yet, ladies.  Just because you think more rationally than us and smell better than we do doesn’t mean you have the upper hand.  You’re stupid too—only for different reasons.  What reasons, you ask?  Well keep reading “Sex 9-1-1” each week and find out.  In no time you’ll agree with me when I say that indeed, the world does need me.


Find out more about Jon at and check out his podcast “The Fireman and the Shrink” and all the other great content on the Better Sex website at  You can email Jon at