grilled cheese and sex and emmy rossum

ON MY WAY OUT I SAW IT, there at the check-out line. I saw it while waiting in line to pay for my Tillamook Vanilla Bean ice cream: an attractive young woman who could be an actress or a model or a ‘celebrity’ gracing the cover of the new Cosmopolitan (October 2014 issue). Her name? Emmy Rossum. 

Men only need two things—grilled cheese and sex. Oh, right . . . and the ass they deserve.


Rings no bells for me.

I could not recall having seen or heard of her prior to smiling at her picture and a statement attributed to her on that cover: “Men only need two things—grilled cheese and sex.”

I simply dismissed Ms. Rossum’s quip as too silly to think about. But when I got back in the car with Berni, I turned and said, “Honey, men only need two things—grilled cheese and sex.”

Of course the statement was so obvious once said aloud that she agreed and said that she had been providing me with both for years and I’d better appreciate it!


The day after tomorrow

She was in fact an actress I knew, having starred in the critically panned but highly enjoyable movie The Day After Tomorrow. But I am not going to meander off into movie-reviewing when there is grilled cheese and sex to discuss—or as I am beginning to think (fantasize) of it: grilled cheese sex.

Now, in my wild and wooly days, I sampled a little of this and a little of that. It didn’t take long to find out that most of the longings desires impulses obsessions that we call ‘perversions’ (no fun in that term!) or ‘kinks’ (now that’s a fun-loving vein) were a ‘guy thing.’

Not that I had any of that . . .

I only uncovered a few things that more than a few gals were interested in. the most common seemed to be doing it somewhere where we might get caught: in bushes in a crowded park on a Saturday afternoon; in the back seat in a public parking garage; or in her room upstairs during a family get-together.

Not that I did any of that . . .



Everything you always wanted to know

Okay, for an entertaining perspective on this, see the section titled “Why Do Some Women Have Trouble Reaching An Orgasm? in Woody Allen’s 1972 movie Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask. Woody plays a successful, horny (inept) Italian husband newly married to wife seemingly incapable of enjoying sex, played by Louise Lasser.

That is, until one day while shopping in an upscale home accessories store, she is suddenly overcome with passion: “We could get caught.” ”I know, I know! Do it, do it! “Life plays strange tricks on me,” he muses to his friend.

Here’s one every guy believes to be so: that he should get the ass that he deserves and he deserves all the ass that he gets!

Another one was receiving and administering mild forms of pain. For a while in the ‘70s, dripping hot melted wax from a candle upon one another’s naked flesh was ‘in’  for ‘normal’ couples. (It’s called wax play by some adventuresome twosomes.)

This may have been part of the post-Deep Throat/Behind The Green Door experimentation that America’s otherwise staid heterosexual majority enjoyed and got their ya-yas out before early onset reaganmentia set in.

Anyway, the wax was dripped slowly, lovingly, sensually wherever one wanted it or wanted to.

Exquisite pain.

Longing for the surcease from the pain.

You get the picture, oui?

So, nothing says it has to be candle wax in one’s wax play—grilled cheese sex anyone?

Of course, the method of delivery of said grilled cheese to select body parts is something that my imagination seems not to want to address.



Great poster that was part of a great promotional campaign to build interest in the movie. That the movie wasn’t as good as the campaign led too many viewers to judge it negatively—which is too bad, as it was a good movie.

The ass you deserve

The other cover “stories” for the new Cosmo beg for a response: of the eight titles, four are directly about sex while two others come close. Clockwise:

Well now, here’s one every guy believes to be so: that he should get the ass that he deserves and he deserves all the ass that he gets!

Your New Secret Weapon For Hotter Sex (He’ll Love It Too).
Even if it’s your first time, dear Cosmo reader, and you don’t get it right, if it’s “new” how could he not love it, too?

10 Craziest Sex Moves We’ve Ever Tried!
No more—you had me at the exclamation point!

Alas, the first one (“ass”) is actually a blurb for a butt and leg workout. That is probably the only time you will ever read about Cosmo on this site. What’s amazing is all this interest in sex from a man my age just from a magazine cover—and I had forgotten to take my Viagra with my morning vitamins that day!

Oh well and ho hum, back to fantasies of grilled cheese, sex, and Emmy Rossum . . .


The photo at the top of this page of Emmy Rossum is from the Cosmopolitan magazine. Of course.

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One Reply to “grilled cheese and sex and emmy rossum”

  1. I received this as a private email from a friend who granted me permission to post it here anonymously:

    “This post is intellectually interesting to me: one of the strangest and most disturbing (to me) aspects of married life was my ex-wife’s repeated desire to have sex in dangerous places. Dangerous in the sense of potentially being discovered was merely one side of it.

    On top of my boss’ desk at work, in my parents’ bedroom while they were out to dinner, or on a heavily brush-covered freeway median where a cop might potentially stop at any moment to investigate our stopped car are examples.

    But much worse than that, were situations that were physically dangerous—on a beach against unscalable sea cliffs, with the tide rapidly coming in; on a tiled rooftop, while trying to avoid sliding off; and on top of a slippery mountain glacier, literally inches away from a 200-foot-deep crevasse.

    The most irritating thing was that she had absolutely no appreciation for how difficult it is to perform while trying to look over your shoulder and knowing that an instant’s inattention could literally bring death. That is definitely one part of being married that I don’t miss . . .”

Time to get that something off your mind ...

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