Dating, humor, Online Dating, Sex

Good American


Let’s talk about butt sex.

Like all other dates, I met this one on Tinder. Let’s call him… English.

English was the man most girls dreamed about — tall, dark, and a jaw line so sharp it could cut glass.

We arrived at the mutually agreed upon location in New York’s lower east side. Like clockwork, the hostess sat us next to a married couple who mirrored our… characteristics. The wife was an Asian woman who sat beside me while her husband was a tall white male who sat on the opposite side.

I watched as her husband struggled with his pair of chopsticks. “Oh. Yeah. I know, it takes a while to get used to…” I awkwardly consoled the husband while catching English wrestle with his own pair from the corner of my eye.

In an alternate reality, this couple could have been the future of English and me. Little did the universe know, English and I would never speak to each other again after tonight.

Dinner labored on as any other date. The usual questions and topics were discussed and complements were given in a timely manner. After we split the bill, we began to walk towards his Airbnb which was just around the corner from the restaurant – convenient.

Following a few minutes of dodging traffic, we arrived at a 4-storied brick building. English buzzed us into the lobby and we made our way to the top floor. We tried to access the roof but failed due to locked doors and an unknown security code. English grabbed my face and we began to kiss like high school kids hiding in a dark corner on prom night – sloppy, awkward, and horny.

He took me back to his Airbnb and asked if I wanted to “do something fun”. Fun? I immediately thought to myself that he was going to murder me.

“Let’s take a shower”, he said after he pulled a towel out from behind the door.

“Uh, what?” I replied. I naively asked myself why we needed to shower? We hadn’t even had sex yet.

He insisted that we hop into the shower and that it was going to be “a good time”. With hesitation and fear that the shower was going to be filled with mold and mildew, I reluctantly agreed. After all, he was only visiting form England and I wanted to show him “a good time”. I didn’t want the rest of the world’s malignant accusations of American girls to hold true. I wanted to be the good American.

Cold and wet.

He lathered my body and slowly worked his way down.

Blind to my surrounding with soap in my eyes, I felt him grab my butt cheeks and spread them apart – disturbed and shocked. I jumped before I heard him drop to his knees and thrust his face into my butt.

“Mother of Jesus pray for my soul because this is not holy!” I thought to myself.

It was all happening so fast. Did I like this? With slippery hands, I literally pulled his head out of my ass. Still blinded by the soap in my eyes I attempted to do a sexy hair flip which would hopefully position my butt away from his face. I ungracefully slipped and nearly hit my head on the shower wall. The shampoo bottles came tumbling down and the possibility of salvaging any remains of dignity were washed down the drain.

Fast forward to the bedroom – he had my knees wrapped tightly around my ears. With my legs sprawled out like heaven’s gate, he leaned back and gazed at my underside.

“Wow” he exclaimed with excitement. “WOW!” he said again. It was as if I was the latest Netflix obsession and my butthole was the star of the show. English nose-dived in.

I will save the details from this post for those readers with a faint heart. By the end of the night, I was drench in a pool of sweat and saliva, and confronted with a flaccid penis.

All this is to say that I think we as a society shy away from any indication that sex can happen in the less trodden terrain of your body – the butt. Roaming in the forsaken territory is considered unclean or appalling. However, in the heat of the moment, as long as both parties are privy to other’s actions pleasure is just pure pleasure.

XXX babe

Attractions, Dating, Dating Challenge, Girl Trip, humor, NYC, Online Dating, Travel, Uncategorized

Babeland Stamp of Approval: Woodstock


Need to get out of town with your lady gang? Go to Woodstock. It’s cute as shit and everyone is so gosh darn nice and the air doesn’t smell like diesel and stewing garbage. It’s the perfect get away to remind yourself, “Hey, nature exists outside of Central Park and it’s fucking magical.” So here are a few pics and tips from our trip to Woodstock:

Where should I stay? So glad you asked. We stayed in an Airbnb about a mile from the center of town. This house had so much going for it- tree house, forest, living room with disco ball and lava lamps big enough for a serious dance party, projector screen hooked up to a dvd player (might I suggest Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and She’s the Man), big kitchen, great host, super graphic books about sex, amazing location. Click here for the house.


While we were there, we fell in love with the Catskills so much that we made a reservation for our next trip 10 months in advance (you read that correctly- Babeland is comprised of serious planners who get off on iCal notifications) at The Graham and Co. It’s a cute hipster Instaworthy motel-y paradise in the middle of a lush forest. It’s also typically booked several months in advance so get on it. Bonus: there was a cute boy with a beard chopping wood out front when we were snooping around. He works there. Go find him and ask for wine and more fire wood.


What should I eat? We at Babeland would tell you to eat everything. But for those of  you who don’t order 4 dishes each when you go out with your girls, you can still trust that these recommendations are delicious.

Garden Cafe: Vegan and amazing. We went here for brunch on a chilly Saturday morning and it was packed (not NYC packed, but very full and we had to wait 5 minutes to sit down).


Vinny’s Farm Market: Want to make a nice home-cooked meal? Go to Vinny’s Farm Market. They have amazing produce and random German desserts and mind-blowing ciders. And if you’re lucky and go in September, you might catch them when they have GARLIC DONUTS. Sound weird to you? Then you’re not worthy of the pure bliss that is a donut that will stink up your entire car in the best possible way.


What should I do? Live the simple life. Go to the flea market. Sit in a cafe and drink some matcha/chai/coffee/whatever. Visit the local shops. Smoke some weed. Hike. Drop acid. Just live your best life.

Bottom Line: Go to woodstock. Go alone and find yourself or go with a group of people you love and laugh your asses off. You can’t lose.


Art Babe



The Biker at the Bakery



This date actually occurred during prior the challenge but thought it didn’t hurt to mention it. Mostly because it reminded me (again) just how small this darn city is.

It was a few days after Thanksgiving and of course it was a bit chilly, but not as chilly as this date was about to be. He was about 10 minutes late and luckily I picked one on my favorite bakeries so I proceeded to munch of my just-baked scone. Finally, he arrived. Now, this man was beautiful. In a romance novel, bad rom-con way. But unfortunately, the character who plays the villain. Or maybe I was biased. He had dark features, very tall and a nice smile. He just parked his bike outside so he seemed a bit frazzled.

We hugged, he got a coffee, and one of the worst dates commenced. Now, don’t be scared he didn’t leave me on the side of the road or in a dark bar, but he was just plain rude and needless to say, very patronizing. “Oh, you eat out a lot? You should really cook at home to save money.” “Oh you take baths? I only take showers.” It also seemed that every response I had was shot back with a rebuttal. I had to get out. But no excuse came to mind.

Luckily, I coincidentally got asked out for another date. Shrug. Why not? Just a hunch, but I don’t think rude biker would mind. My coffee was already paid for so I ruffled up my belongings and said I had to go. Date tip: you don’t have to say where you’re going or why! We hugged at his bike and no texting exchanges occurred. Except for that random Xmas text. Silly boys.

Now as luck would have it, I now see this fellow quite often out in Brooklyn. And I’m sure I’ve seen him on a date. At one point I just said hi, because we’re all in some type of challenge and it doesn’t hurt to wish an old contender good luck.


Tea Babe


So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye!

Where do I begin? It has now been several months since the BBLand Dating Challenge, but this one encounter still lives fresh on my mind.

Perhaps it’s because it was the only date from the challenge, during which I felt any form of a connection, or perhaps it’s because he wooed me with his Smart Car — hey, a car is a car, and if he’s willing to travel up to Harlem for me, that’s a major win!

Regardless of why, my dates with Smart Car Boy stood out. That’s why when our two-date tryst ended (a mere 4 days after it began) I was surprised by my devastation.

It all started late on a Tuesday in March. I had just celebrated my birthday and decided that this 27th year of life would be the year that I get my ass off the couch and actually put some effort into dating and meeting new people — and that meant going on late-night weekday dates. That’s why, at 10:15pm, I strapped on my first-date boots, grabbed my keys and headed out the door to a new bar by my house.

When Smart Car Boy walked into the door, I immediately knew that I liked him. He was cute (in a nerdy kind of way), and we had great chemistry and conversation. By 12:45am, I decided that it was time to call it a night and politely suggested we end the date.

“Oh, you’re ready to go? What are you doing after this?”

Ummm… what?! It’s a work night. You think I can just stay out all night? What’s your game dude? Do you think this is a booty call?

“Ha ha nah, I have to work early tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Well let me grab the check.”

And with that we parted ways with a polite hug goodbye. But of course, that wasn’t the end. As soon as I got home I sent him a text, thanking him for the drinks and letting him know that I had a “nice time” — to which he responded “I’m glad you had a nice time.”

In my 27 years on this earth, I have always prided myself on being able to text with boys. I mean, I’m no boy-whisperer, but I have always been able to hold an intelligent texting conversations and get my point across. Well apparently, I was wrong. According to one of my best (and bro-iest) guy friends, my “I had a nice time” text signaled that I thought Smart Car Boy was boring — so not the case! His recommendation was to be more straight forward, and ask him out on a second date. And so I did.

We made plans to meet up on the following Friday. While we were supposed to grab drinks at 7, he had to push the date to 10:45pm (late again, I should have seen this red flag).

Since I wanted to see him again (and I wanted to get that second-date point), I agreed to the new meet-up time and arranged to grab dinner with some friends. As you can imagine, one margarita turned into five, and it soon came time for me to meet up with Smart Car Boy.

Date #2 was just as lovely as the first one, if not a bit drunker. We went bar hopping, he took me to some cool new digs, and ultimately we ended the night at his house. Let’s just say that I earned that second-date point, and should have earned the “third-date” point as well 😉

But of course, all New York romances must come to an end. Turns out that Smart Car Boy was headed to Europe for two weeks, and once he returned, he was never to be heard from again.

But wait, you may ask, I thought you had chemistry? I thought you had potential! Yeah, so did I. But whatever, there’s far too many fish in the sea, so I’m on to catch the next!

Bossy Babe



I’m Sorry, Vajay


Date #10

This one is painful.

It’s Friday night at 7 and I sat down at a bustling Harlem dumpling spot with the cutie patootie software engineer from Date #8. Dinner was good- it took a while to explain that I didn’t want meat or eggs with any of my dishes (so high maintenance)- but the veggie dumplings and steamed veggies were delish. After dinner, we couldn’t find any bars in the neighborhood that weren’t loud or expensive so we called it a night and started heading to his place.

I should have known this wasn’t going to end well when he insisted on catching the subway for one stop.

Why? It’ll take longer to wait for the train than it will to walk. 

It’s cold though. And it’s kind of  a far walk.

11 streets and 2 Avenues? 

Yeah, let’s catch the train. 

But that’s not efficient. 


Should have known. Should. Have. Known. There are few things that annoy me more than inefficiency, but it was the weekend! So I was trying to be cool and let loose.

Let’s skip to the juicy stuff…or rather, the not-so-juicy stuff if you get my drift.

We get to his apartment and his roommate is in the kitchen so we make a sharp left straight into the bedroom. He turns on Real Husbands of Hollywood insisting that I’ll think it’s hilarious. Half an epi in, we start making out and it was okay but 30 seconds later BOOM! He goes for the zipper.

Do you have somewhere to be? Are you late for something? Jesus. Slow down.

Apparently he didn’t understand how this was supposed to go and I wasn’t in the mood to educate this kid on how to have proper sexual relations with a woman. So I redirected him back to my lips and told him to back off down there. But it didn’t get better. The kissing was sloppy and saliva-y. At this point I was over it, but the show was funny, and this guy was cute, and I wasn’t about to leave without getting any D. I mean I was already there and had already used up some effort on him…how bad could the rest be?


It started getting heated and then- again with the horrible transition- got up and grabbed a condom.

Oh, no. Put that away, I’m not ready yet. 

Oh, uh, okay.

So he came back and rubbed around for a bit but it was pointless. He was lost down there. So condom it was. BUT THEN HE CAME AT ME WITH NO LUBE. Jesus. I had verbalized TWICE that this was the largest penis I have ever experienced in my entire life and he didn’t think to lube up? Who is letting him fuck them without lube!?? Even if I was juiced to the max, I doubt that would have been enough.

So I had him turn around again, get some lube, and THEN approach the golden chalice that is my sacred lady bit. But it was bad. Every position was bad. When I got on top and told him to literally just lay still, he couldn’t follow directions. So it was over. I got up unsatisfied and went to the bathroom to find blood dripping down my leg. And it wasn’t period blood. My vajay was broken and in pain.

And the bleeding/throbbing continued through to the next night when I went out with Babeland. Dancing with a sad punani isn’t fun. But then I started thinking, perhaps this guy has never had a relationship before. Maybe he’s never been taught how to properly wield his sword because his previous trysts have been with one night stands or flings who don’t have the time/want to teach him. Or maybe he watches wayyyy too much porn and he’s single because he can’t figure out sex irl. Or maybe he’s overly sensitive to criticism and is a horrible sex student and dumps anyone who tries to suggest something new in the sheets. So many possibilities. I could write an entire fictional blog on the sex history I imagine for him.

But the most important part of the Babeland Challenge is to learn- learn about ourselves and learn about the other people in this metropolitan playground. Lessons learned from this date: 1) Big dicks are nothing to joke about. They are serious business and need lots of mental and physical preparation and probably a lot of practice. 2) Sex injuries not funny. 3) I’m too old for guys my own age. Let’s try upping my Bumble age range from 24-35 to 30-35 and see how that works out.

Love always,

Art Babe




Not Sam Smith


Date #9

I had never really considered having a one night stand. All  those STD pictures from high school combined with watching too much SVU has kind of turned off the idea to me. Plus I like to cuddle without any awkward small talk. And I don’t like bringing people into my bed unless they shower first. And I don’t like getting it on in dirty boy apartments. But at least I’m not high maintenance….

Let me set the scene for Date #9. Monday night. There’s a snow storm a-comin’ and schools are cancelled tomorrow (which means no work for me!). Treating this Monday like the Friday it has become, I agreed to go on a date at 11pm with a guy who had a really cute bulldog in his Bumble prof pic. He got off work at the hospital around 10:30 and asked to meet me at a cozy wine bar close by so he could shower and not be late. My first thought was: aww that’s nice of him to shower first. And then I was like: Are you fucking kidding?? Of course he should shower after being in the nasty ER all day. Set your standards a little higher, betch. 

Our previous day of texting had been hilarious but in a friendly, not flirty way. And, I know this sounds bad, but I wasn’t super into him like that. I just figured I’d get a point out of the snow storm. When we met, we got along instantly. The conversation flowed, we had similar senses of humor, and we laughed until 2:0) in the morning. But I never got the feeling that either of us were even vaguely romantically interested in each other. Just cordial.

After a bottle of wine, we got up to leave. He helped me put on my coat and turned to me.

The storm isn’t here yet- if you want to come over I live just 2 blocks away.


And that’s it. THAT’s how my first one night stand happened. Are you breathless?? Begging for the dirty deets?? Yeah, I didn’t think so. It was so casual I almost didn’t realize I was about wonder into uncharted sex territory.

We wandered through the UES streets just as they were collecting a thin layer of snow, awkwardly stepping so we wouldn’t slip. He was a good 4 inches shorter than my 5’6″ frame and at one point he tried putting his arm around my shoulder. It just didn’t work. With the extra cautious walking and the height difference it was just dumb. So he retracted his arm and we approached his apartment.

His dog was cute. And his studio was okay. Pretty much exactly what I would assume every 28 year-old doctor’s apartment looks like: large and empty. We made out for a hot second and then got it on. It wasn’t good. And then I said bye to his bulldog and left.

That was cool. Maybe I’ll do it again sometime. Maybe not. One of the perks of a relationship is getting better at sex together. Unless both people in a one night stand are incredible sexperts, I’m not confident that I can have great sex on a one night stand. Not my cup of tea, I guess.

Love always,

Art Babe


Sound the Siren


Dates #6-8

I’m getting better at this so let’s speed things up a bit, shall we?

Date #6- The Harlem native again. We went back to the hot dog place (not on trivia night) and had a great time. I have a good feeling about this guy. A feeling that this might last a while. We’re not afraid to laugh at ourselves, or each other. And he made a couple references to things we should do in the future. Stay tuned for a third date in the near future.

Date #7- I have nothing to say about this. My brain kept telling my legs to walk out of the bubble tea place but my heart felt bad for being so over it. So I stayed for 45 minutes and had a nice conversation. He texted me the next day. I didn’t respond.

Date #8-

This one is worth talking about in detail because HUBBA HUBBA. This man was gorgeous. And his smile…*drool.

Date #8 was just 2 blocks away from date #7. Yes, I planned that. But because date #7 ended early, I got to the bar early. I ordered a couple Guinnesses and some fries before he got there (on time!) and he did a subtle double take when he noticed I’d been there a while.

Oh, I’m sorry I’m late!

You’re not late. Want something to drink? 

He was so into me. Not to be like that, but hot damn. We were a good pair. Equally hilarious (if I do say so myself) and both with interesting family histories.

He was born in Germany, grew up in a super white part of Florida, had a punk rock band in high school (the pictures of him rockin’ a giant afro AND fall-out boy style outfits AND being so lanky and awkward and skinny are just too amazing for words), and moved to NYC to be a software engineer. He was brand new to the city, so I knew to be cautious. It’s no secret that online dating is a great way to meet people/make friends when you’re fresh to New York and I wasn’t really looking for that casual stuff. Yes, this was just a silly challenge and I wouldn’t have downloaded all these dating apps otherwise, but I was still looking for a real relationship.

We could have talked for hours but I was going to be late for a movie with the rest of Babeland so I paid the bill. He was flustered.

Oh, what? No, I want to pay for it. I- I didn’t know you had a tab open.

No, it’s cool. I was here for a while before you anyway. 

Okay, well I’ll get it next time. 


And he walked me to the train station and waited on the platform with me. This is when things got weird. He stood in front of me. Face to face, almost chest to chest. On the platform. Not okay. Everyone faces the tracks on the platform. That’s just how it is. Now I feel like my space is being violated.

Stand next to me. If you stand like that you can’t see the train.

But I’ll hear it and know it’s coming.

What? No. Just stand over here. 

We held hands but he tried holding both of my hands at the same time…while standing next to me. YEAH. Think about that for a second. It was so awkward.

My train finally arrived and I kissed him goodbye. Up until the train station it was great. Then it was just so wrong. I had to digest it for a bit but I was down for a second date. We were an intriguing possibility.


Love always,

Art Babe