Save The Date For The Sultanette Dinner

Dinner at the schlass, Jorge Royan.

Dinner at the schlass, Jorge Royan.

Except it won’t be dinnertime (the most wicked fun happens in the afternoon) and it won’t be a “date”  because that term is stricken from The Male Harem lexicon due to its fostering of bazaar expectations and sex-by-numbers. (Third date? You snooze, you lose.)

Minor details aside, stay tuned for The Sultanette’s fantasy dinner hosted by Courtney Price Design. If you’re not following Ms. Price’s tasty blog on culture, fashion, interior design and the best martini in San Francisco, you’re missing critical factoids on the art of living with style and heart. What better venue to  treat The Male Harem in the manner they’re accustomed than @courtneymprice where Emily Post meets C.Z Guest and Madame de Pompadour pops by for an aperitif? Read more . . .


Let’s Stay Together

Wife hands husband her chastity belt key, Neinrich Wirrich, c1590, British Museum.

Wife hands husband her chastity belt key, Neinrich Wirrich, c1590, British Museum.

Sure they had their marital snags – the usual irreconcilable differences – but was it worth splitting up over? Creating a rift that would upset the world order?

No, The Sultanette isn’t talking about Jay Z and Beyoncé. The Male Harem has weightier issues to mull over than the fate of JayBey (though I’d trade these pins for Beyoncé’s thighs faster than you could say “booty call”). The marriage in question united Scotland and England in 1707. The question now was whether to call it quits after three-hundred-seven years or stay together. YES or NO. Black or white. No surprise, NO won. Read more . . .


Looking For Mr. Wrong


Wolf Bait, WWII B-25 Mitchell bomber, Ed Uthman.

“I’m a very difficult person,” Jeremy Irons.

Untwist your knickers, scandalmongers! The Sultanette is not looking to add Jeremy Irons, aka “serial snogger” aka “the thinking woman’s pin-up” to The Male Harem. Yet. He does however, share one thing in common with each and every harem member along with wicked charm, a shameless love of the feminine form, artful duplicity, and the basic requirement for membership, a penis. They are all difficult men.

I may have denied this last feature even to myself before reading Cristina Nehring’s A Vindication of Love. Women who are drawn to rascals must “secretly believe they don’t really deserve a ‘good’ boy,” writes Nehring. ”It’s chalked up to low self-worth.” But when men pursue women who cause them “trouble and turmoil” Nehring contends, it’s credited to their “high spirits, predatorial adrenaline, to chutzpah, competition, and courage.” Read more . . .


Loving On The Edge

Eyes of a Tiger, Arendra37.

Eyes of a Tiger, Arendra37.

SINGLE MAN SEEKS adventurous female with passion for travel and curiosity for life. My hobbies include fencing and snake charming. Speak twenty-eight languages. Briefly endured Oxford. Enthusiastically agnostic. A fave Saturday night is hosting a simian dinner party to catalog the vocabulary of monkeys. I also enjoy exploring forbidden locales in disguise and have discovered the source of the Nile. Full disclosure: I’ve called marriage a barbarous and indelicate exhibition but am open to it provided you’re okay with random disappearances for indefinite lengths of time. Friends insist I have the eyes of a tiger and the voice of an angel but you’ll be the judge of that. Having done extensive research on the erotic impulses of apes and sexual practices of the Swahili, I can make you very happy. Read more . . .


You Can Leave Your Hat On

Derby Girls.

Derby Girls.

Were it not for my tweeps clamoring for a report on the Kentucky Derby, the following post including sex, nudity, gambling, and the excessive consumption of mint juleps and biscuits with gravy would have been quietly filed away in the annals of The Male Harem.

So first let me say in my defense that none of the following was premeditated. As you all well know, when I chose a life more provocative than predictable, I unloaded past ballast, let go of daydreaming about the future, and staked my tent in the spontaneous present. Read more . . .