The Protagonist interviewed several New Yorkers this week with the goal of better understanding the incredibly complex psychology behind the act of subway reading.

Anticipating primarily tales of the embarrassment surrounding reading something too “trashy” or juvenile, or, alternatively, something too pretentious, and how all this is impacted by the omnipresence of e-readers, or even how hard it is to focus on one’s book at all with all these coursing thoughts, I stumbled across a different, more prevalent phenomenon altogether.

While New Yorkers are overwhelmingly most embarrassed to be caught reading the “dorky” stuff, the fact is this: subway reading has gotten too damn sexual.

If it’s not the subway-reading-pickup-game — with book as mere conduit for something much more improper — it’s secret or not-so-secret pornographic reading, a whole universe of secret sex codes, presumptions about others’ sex lives and so on.

Kambri Crews, an author herself, who publicly reads whatever she wants (including Harry Potter) reserves judgment of what others read…for the most part.

“I always notice what others are reading but usually don’t think much of it,” says Crews. “Unless it’s some young kid with fake glasses reading Anna Karenina or something lofty and I think, ‘Yeah, right. Whatever,’ and sprain my eye muscles from rolling them so hard.”

Does anyone show an interest in what she’s reading? “Only men who are looking for action ever comment on what I’m reading,” says Crews.

According to comedian and prolific subway-reader Dan Nainan, “The thought of having to sit on the subway with nothing to do is unacceptable.”

Nainan doesn’t care what people think of his literary choices. “A friend of mine, Steve Chandler, wrote a fantastic book called 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself,” Nainan explains. “One of his tips asks, why should what someone else thinks affect how I feel?”

But then the plot thickens. “I will say that reading Fifty Shades of Grey on the subway has been quite interesting,” says Nainan. “Would you believe that I’ve had a few women start conversations with me about that book? One of these conversations even led to a date.”

Nainan offers an observation: “I see many women reading this book, all of them are reading it on e-readers – I think they are too embarrassed to actually read the physical book itself…some of them glance around furtively to make sure that nobody is seeing them read the book.”

“If a man were looking at pornography on the subway, or anywhere else in public, he would be excoriated,” he says. “Apparently, it’s okay for women to read pornography on the other hand.”

Another subway reader, Emily Glickman, echoes Nainan: “Recently I saw a woman openly reading Fifty Shades of Grey, the physical book, and thought that was a little off.”

Brooklynite Shelley Chapman, who says: “Electronics nowadays emit levels of radiation that can bother [her] after a while,” to explain her support of physical books, is not afraid to advertise her presumptions about others based on what they read.

“If I noticed someone reading a book titled My Baby Daddy Part 3, I’d wonder how in the heck they even managed to read Part 1 and 2,” says Chapman.

“Admittedly, there are a few books depending on the cover illustrations that I won’t as readily read on the train,” she says. “Such as my books on Tantra.”

With all the judgment, it’s no wonder some readers are a little self-conscious. Dustin Nelson remembers reading Nicholson Baker’s House of Holes on the train and feeling “a little weird about [it.]”

“I thought someone was going to see one of the chapter titles sitting next to me, since the chapter titles there are pretty dirty,” Nelson explains. “Maybe they’d think I was coming onto them with my book.”

Hunt Ethridge, on the other hand, isn’t afraid to confess his literary interests aren’t exactly pure: “I subscribe to the Erotica Center on my Kindle and on slow, cold days, I may read something spicy on my way home. That’s when it’s the best!” Others agree they use e-readers if they plan to read something a little personal, like a self-help book.

Hashim Locario, a dating coach and author, has even more aggressive intentions. Locario wrote a book for men called How to Have Sex with 2 Women a Day.

“When I first got the hard copies of the book printed I would read it on the train so people could see what I was reading,” says Locario. “Women would give me strange looks and men would always ask me where I got the book.”

“I actually sold a couple on the train that way,” he says.

Locario adds: “I actually used to pick up girls by approaching them and asking them about what they were reading.”

In fairness, some New Yorkers interviewed also had far more innocent intentions when they sparked up a conversation about books, or approached subway reading in general.

Christina DiRusso says she “love[s] giving out recommendations and always asks for ideas back.”

Bob Madison and his husband often read aloud to each other on the subway.

“This can sometimes raise eyebrows when it’s something like Tik-Tok of Oz,” he explains. “Just a couple of weeks ago we were reading Fer-der-lance, the first Nero Wolfe mystery on the train, and found a bit that was so smartly written and so funny that we were howling all the way to Chambers Street.”

Madison adds: “Then my husband was reading The Gods of Mars, an old adventure novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs, and he read a particularly over-the-top bit to me that I’m sure must’ve raised the eyebrows of anyone listening.”

While using books to pick up dates is far from a new phenomenon, The Protagonist is left wondering if the ubiquity of e-readers puts a damper on the process, or facilitates it further. One thing is for sure, e-readers make it more difficult to form an assumption based on what’s being read, though as some point out — at the very least they do make a statement about someone’s disposable income level.

Whatever the motive, it’s safe to say, when people idly read on the subway, they usually aren’t just idly reading. And the people casually not looking? Well, you know.

By Alisa Vitti

Hormones affect everything. Have you ever struggled with acne, oily hair, dandruff, dry skin, cramps, headaches, irritability, exhaustion, constipation, irregular cycles, heavy bleeding, clotting, shedding hair, weight gain, anxiety, insomnia, infertility, lowered sex drive, or bizarre food cravings and felt like your body was just irrational? It’s not, it’s hormonal. Yet women remain mystified at their bodies’ seemingly random display of disconnected symptoms, never thinking that they are connected and hormonally based.

Mentioning the word “hormones” usually elicits blank stares or comments that it’s relevant only to women over 50. The reality is, hormones influence you in utero, throughout childhood and adolescence and most importantly right now as you are reading this sentence. Do you know what your hormones are doing, how you might be interfering with their attempts to stay balanced and keep you symptom-free, and if you are dealing with an imbalance, where to begin to get your body and your life back? Your health depends on it.
Having worked with so many women with reproductive health issues, I know how overwhelming it can be to deal with a hormonal imbalance like PCOS, fibroids or infertility.

The good news, however, is that nutritional research has been catching up to some long-standing wisdom about the powerful effects food has on your body and most importantly, that you can learn how to use food to change and improve the way your endocrine system functions, so that you balance your hormones and eliminate frustrating symptoms.

At FLOliving.com, I’ve pioneered a five-step nutritional protocol that eliminates period problems, helps women get pregnant naturally or improve IVF cycles, and increases sex drive. In the 10 years since opening the FLO Living center in Columbus Circle, I’ve helped women shrink fibroids, regulate periods, lift anxiety and depression and get pregnant after IVF failed. I’ve helped women transition off the pill without having pre-pill symptoms return, and I’ve helped women recover their energy and uncover their passion and purpose in life. It’s time for a new conversation and a fresh start for an area of women’s health that has long been overlooked—and food is the answer!

This food-based approach works and can be used in conjunction with what your doctor is recommending.

Here are some of the strategies I’ll share with you in my forthcoming book, WomanCode: Unlocking the Secrets to Your Optimal Period, Fertility and Sex Drive (HarperCollins, April 2013).

FLOliving.com’s Nine Nurturing Food & Lifestyle changes for easier periods, improved fertility and supercharged sex drive:

1. Dramatically decrease white flour and refined sugar to keep insulin levels stable for better ovulation and to decrease exposure to gluten, a studied fertility inhibitor.
2. Choose organic produce, pasture-fed animal proteins and natural beauty products to reduce exposure to endocrine-disrupting chemicals, hormones and pesticides.
3. Eat one cup of steamed dark leafy green vegetables per day to help keep estrogen levels balanced. They are rich in calcium, magnesium and vitamin E—all extremely important for healthy cycles and fertility.
4. Have organic, free-range eggs with the yolk for a boost of the following fertility and sex drive enhancing nutrients: vitamins D3, A and K2—all essential for hormone production.
5. Eat avocados for improved IVF cycles, natural conception and improving mood and energy for sex.
6. Reduce soy products; the phytoestrogen in soy can exacerbate estrogen dominant symptoms and conditions like PMS, PCOS, fibroids, endometriosis, infertility and low libido.
7. Eat wild salmon. If you’re struggling with anxiety, depression, irritability and/or insomnia, these all indicate lower levels of Omega 3 fatty acids which help promote healthy progesterone levels and reduce PMS.
8. Take a B-100 complex. B vitamins are essential for stabilizing hormones, mood and energy. I like Jarrow B-right best (must be taken on a full stomach).
9. Swap coffee for Rooibos chai tea. The combination of cinnamon and other spices has a benefit of increasing blood flow to the reproductive organs and can help you get in the mood faster.

Alisa Vitti, HHC, AADP is the founder and CEO of FLOliving.com, functional nutritionist specializing in women’s reproductive endocrinology. Go to FLOliving.com to learn more about balancing your hormones using our Hormonal Sync System. Special to Manhattan Media readers: email us at info@FLOliving.com to schedule a FREE consultation with one of our FLO expert coaches.

It’s the kind of thing that happens to all of us now and then.

Just the other day, I was having lunch with a somewhat imposing young film student to talk about the possibility of his doing a YouTube video to promote my novel. He was both handsome and British, which is a combination that tends to unnerve me. He was describing a particular kind of film montage technique and I was trying hard to follow him.

“You know what I mean,” he was saying, “It’s what ______ often did at the beginning of all his early films.” The student dropped the name of a director who, I could tell from the confident tone of the student’s voice, I was supposed to know. So I murmured “Uh-huh,” though I had no idea at all who this director was.

This kind of bluffing can be risky, even though in many instances failing to confess one’s ignorance will cause you no trouble—the reference is touched upon briefly, the conversation goes on to something else and no one is the wiser. However, in this case, we stayed on the subject of said director for some time. The result? I felt lost, with a growing panic inside even as I smiled and nodded. And of course it is much worse to confess after five minutes has passed. Every second you let the pretense go on, the more ridiculous you feel when you have to admit, “Actually, I don’t know what you are talking about.” I was a prisoner—a prisoner of my lie.

There are many reasons why pretending you know something you don’t is a bad idea. The two most important of these are: 1) You are no longer a full participant in the conversation, because you are, to a certain extent, faking it. The quality of the conversation is affected, especially as you are now spending some of your energy trying not to get caught. And 2) You may actually get caught, when your conversational partner suddenly asks you something specific about the subject at hand. (“Which is your favorite of his films?”) And getting caught pretending to know about a book, a director, a town in Italy, a trendy restaurant or a politician can be much more embarrassing than acknowledging your ignorance in the first place.

It’s better to come clean. For one thing, if you admit your ignorance, the other person gets the pleasure of enlightening you. Most people like to teach people things; it makes them feel slightly superior. You are also indicating to the other person that you are actually listening to every word he is saying, that you are committed to having a meaningful conversation, not one where you just skate through. You are willing to sacrifice your ego for the benefit of the exchange.

After all, whatever the reason that you are having this conversation—with the possible exception of a job interview—it will be more successful if you are connecting as honestly and as fully as possible. And you can’t really do that if you are only partly aware of what the other person is trying to say. If the other person is describing how a particular author made her feel when she was young and you only pretend to know the author in question, you are not going to be able to empathize as much as you should.

Some people in this situation will interject something like, “Wait—have I seen her/him/it in the news recently?” in the hope of getting enough additional information that it will either jog their memory or they won’t really need to know more to continue the conversation. Others will just change the subject as soon as they can.

But ultimately, covering up takes too much energy and confessing is the best way to become better informed. After your initial embarrassment, you will feel relieved at not having to pretend. The other person may even respect you more for admitting you don’t know what they are talking about.

At lunch with the film student, I finally steeled myself, looked right into his handsome face and said, “To tell you the truth, I actually don’t know that director. I don’t know why I said I did, actually.” (I tend to use the word “actually” a lot when I am with Brits.)
“Oh, he’s fairly obscure,” he responded with a reassuring smile. And then he went on to describe exactly the kind of opening montage he meant when he brought the director up.

I vowed right then and there to try never to fake it again. There is too much to learn and too little to lose.

Jeanne Martinet, aka Miss Mingle, is the author of seven books on social interaction; her latest book is a novel called Etiquette for the End of the World. She can be reached at JeanneMartinet.com.

I’ve started dating someone and we get along really well. We have romantic dinners, great conversation and so much in common. Problem: the sex is well…boring. I’m a girl who likes to have fun in bed and I’m just not gelling with his…ahem, style. Do I run? Do I say something? Sex is important but I really like this guy!

It doesn’t sound like you really have a problem. It sounds like you have a friend… Or a puppy. Or a kitten for that matter. Maybe a well domesticated monkey, which should absolutely be a legal pet and companion.

“Sex is important,” for single people. It’s something that is craved, desired and needed. It sounds like you’re looking to nail this guy down to a solid future, a relationship (cue the scary music). In which case “sex” is not “important.” GOOD sex is important. Necessary really. If you’re unsatisfied in the boudoir, it’s going to lead to passive aggressive tendencies. It might manifest itself in snide quips that you brush off as a little joke, but it will then transform into bigger and worse problems and eventually one (if not the both of you) will feel very shitty and end things for good. No relationship. No friend. Not even a domesticated monkey.

If you are the introverted type who believes that it’ll be all hunky dory because you’ve got a really great guy to talk to, and hey, “what’s a vibrator for anyways?” Don’t be so smug. If you’re not enjoying yourself, eventually he’s going to catch on, which will lead to his lack of enjoyment. He’ll start questioning his abilities and feel like less of a man, and since men have too small of a brain to compute that this could in fact be their wrongdoing, he will take it out on you rather than himself. Or he’ll take it out on you verbally, and psychologically take it out on himself leading to a dinky winky when engines need to be a-booming.

Don’t fret, there are ways to deal with this. If you’re really clicking with this guy and want it to work, confront him. Dude sounds like a dreamboat, so I’m sure he’ll be able to have an adult conversation about matters in the bedroom. If he’s the sensitive (i.e. Macho) type, try talking about it in a way that sounds sexy. Suggest trying something different. Role play. Dirty talk. Whatever gets your gears in motion.

Of course you should also keep in mind that perhaps it ain’t his problem, which is NOT to say it is yours. Some people don’t have the chemistry, and if that’s the case nothing can be done. I don’t buy into the whole astrological sign vs. sign bull shit, but I do believe in bodies telling you what feels right and what doesn’t. Listen up, she might be trying to tell you something…

In May, I moved home after a semester abroad, where I left a hopeful and loving boyfriend who wanted to “make it work.” Being a realist, I was fully aware that thousands of miles is an insurmountable hurdle at this point in my life. Being a complete coward, I could not and still cannot be the one to break that poor boy’s heart. So my current relationship status is lingering in limbo and my sex life has been basically nonexistent.

If you’ve passed the 2nd grade and can count, you’ve probably put it together that this makes almost six months since I have had any kind of encounter with the opposite sex. I’m not looking for sympathy, I just want to convey the desperation of my situation. I am not the kind of girl who will go home with the first guy who buys me a drink at the bar, so with my tight schedule and lingering boy troubles, I have had zero opportunity to find someone to, ahem, help me out.

Friends have offered several solutions to this problem, the most frequent of which is to cruise the world wide web to find a little viewing material and some self-love. Watching porn is not really my style, but I figured I would give it a go just to see what all the fuss is about.

Diving into the porno-sphere was difficult enough just in the execution. Am I the only person who didn’t know that there are about a zillion websites featuring everything from foot fetishes to needle play (yikes)? I had no idea what I was getting into. My Google search history is now fairly hilarious—and pathetic—with queries like “normal porn” and “regular sex scenes.” I didn’t know where to look for standard stuff, sex that doesn’t involve vegetables or riding crops.

Through several embarrassing and awkward conversations with friends, I did manage to find some sites that have things close to what I am familiar with. I’m no prude, but the websites I have seen do the opposite of turning me on. I don’t know if it’s a girl thing or just a me thing, but the idea of a girl taking it from behind while she robotically moans or, worse, screams like a banshee, basically ensures that I will not be wanting anyone or anything south of my border. Call me a romantic, but I wouldn’t mind a little plot.

Which led me to a revelation that could perhaps simultaneously help lift both the economy and the female libido out of the recession. There is an industry that is (according to my extensive research) completely untapped: Girl Porn. Any lady who has seen the extended version of the sex scene in The Notebook or the library scene in Atonement knows exactly what I am talking about.

I have made peace with the fact that men’s porno fantasies are often a dark and scary place and I have no place in a male porn world. I wouldn’t mind a little visual stimulation, but are my only options hardcore doggy-style or two-hour-length feature films? I am not ready to make a commitment to either, so I propose this: short, but plot-driven films that are graphic but not gross.

I don’t need sweeping romance, but I do need the sense that the two people involved may have met before, and aren’t immediately going at it like farm animals. Is that too much to ask? The first company to produce female-friendly erotica will be a wealthy one. Until then, I suppose I will continue my search for adult entertainment that doesn’t make me want to Purell my brain.

I high-tailed it down to The Metropolitan Pavilion on West 18th Street wearing my flirty, red Ralph Lauren dress and black, peep-toe Christian Louboutins. Actually, I wore flip-flops and carried my heels. As lovely as they are, I can’t stand in my CLs for more than a half-hour or my toes become mutinous and threaten to abandon my feet.

Photo by Andrew Schwartz

The call for non-union talent was at 1:30 p.m. I got there a little late, hence the reason the line was wrapped all the way down the block, up Sixth Avenue then around the block, ending at 19th and Seventh.

The casting description asked for fashionistas, socialites, models—but who turned out? Everyone, in every shape, size, color, age, male and female. There were no casting requests for children, yet some were there. I guess people couldn’t find last minute childcare, but were so intent on getting seen that they brought the kids along for the ride.

Some applicants showed up in very un-SATC attire, like cut-offs and Ts. On the other hand, some appeared in sidewalk-dragging gowns. Many came in dresses so formfitting and short they’d make a stripper blush. Others arrived in costume. Remember that pink tutu SJP wore in the television show’s opening credits? It was alive and well—in yellow—and twirling on 19th Street.

Then there were the women in this city who are truly as beautiful and statuesque as the ones who play us NYC gals on TV. (I tried not to stand too close to any of them.) They were the ones who, from the neck down, could have been the identical twin of Carrie Bradshaw, right down to the shoes. Unlike me, these SATC extra wannabes stood on line the whole two-plus hours in their stilettos. More power to them and the many mani/pedis that keep them from hobbling.

Just like the actresses of SATC fame, we drew a crowd. Pedestrians walked by and asked what we were doing there, then wished us luck. We had our detractors, though. People who knew why we were out enforce and snickered as they passed, as if to say, “This bunch thinks they’re in the same league as Carrie & Co.?” But we had more than our share of admirers. All along 19th Street, across the street from where we were standing, men lined up—a few brought folding chairs—for some prime “girl watching.” But the ultimate compliment was paid by a guy in a hardware van, who slowed down to proclaim, “Yous all look hot.” High praise indeed.

The paparazzi—OK, photographers from various news organizations—walked up and down the line snapping shots of those who struck a pose, as well as close ups of all the four-inch, platformed and wildly patterned footwear.

Speaking of shoes, I put my heels on just as I was about to make the transition from outside to in, only to find not my turn with the casting director, but more lines; ones that snaked around the cavernous hall of the pavilion. Flip-flops went back on.

Now indoors, we were spared the blazing sun, but deprived of air conditioning, as well as windows. Even though it was crowded and rather warm, and people were getting antsy, the atmosphere was generally lighthearted and convivial. With so many headshot sightings, it was fair to say that a lot of actors saw this casting call as an opportunity to get a Manolo in the door with a major star-studded project. Needless to say, there was lots of talk about agents and sharing information about auditions and classes. In front of me, two models, one new to Manhattan, were swapping phone numbers and the 411 on agencies. People were lending each other pens so we could all fill out the paperwork they gave us. But the joking and chit-chat started to come to an end as we inched closer to the entrance of the back room where the Wizard of Oz, I mean, casting agents were seated.

Photo by Andrew Schwartz

The four lines began to converge into one. People were getting pushed and stepped on, and essentially losing their places. Voices started to rise. For a brief moment, I thought there was going to be a repeat of the now infamous Tyra Banks/America’s Next Top Model casting stampede, but the pavilion’s big and burly security detail rolled in. Immediately, everybody calmed down and behaved.

At last, it was my turn!

My group was let in to our final casting destination. And there were more lines. Three to be exact. But they were short and moved quickly. It was sort of like being on line at the bank. I stood at a safe distance and waited for the agent to yell, “Next.”

I walked up, thinking I’d be assessed and told where I’d best fit in: club-goer, cocktail party guest, etc. But, no. The casting agent took my contact information card, put it on top of the pile and thanked me, then instructed me to “Step over and get your picture taken.”

And? I just had to ask, “Then what?”

“If we want you,” she said, “we’ll call you.”

So, I got my photo snapped. (One picture. Were they kidding? It usually takes several to get a halfway decent-looking one.) After that, I went out to the vestibule, kicked off my heels, slid on my flip-flops and walked to Sixth Avenue to hail a cab uptown.

Apparently, trying to be an extra in the sequel to Sex and the City is just like trying to get a date in New York City. We get all dressed up to both stand out and fit in, hang around trying to meet someone, finally make contact, then somebody says, “I’ll call you,” and we wait by the phone, hoping it happens.
–
Lorraine Duffy Merkl’s debut novel, Fat Chick, will be published in September by The Vineyard Press.

In assembling her first book, Derrow, who is 45 and single, looked for “brave, ballsy, smart, searching” women who could capture the emotional side of copulation, the boring and embarrassing aspects of the too-often taboo subject that she had always enjoyed discussing with friends in her West 96th Street apartment.

Author Paula Derrow said she tried to capture the emotional, boring and embarrassing aspects of copulation.

“I had lots of great talks about sex with women friends who I invited over and plied with cocktails and treats from nearby Gourmet Garage,” she says.

After toiling for more than 20 years behind the scenes at Glamour, Harper’s Bazaar, Lifetime Television and Self, where she is currently articles director, the Harvard-educated Derrow took a two-month sabbatical to work on the book in Rome. She discovered that while she loves working in the background and cultivating new voices, she is excited to finally be in the spotlight. The self-proclaimed “half therapist, half editor” designed the book for “regular” people, those “who aren’t doing crazy sexual things portrayed in magazines like Time Out: New York. This is ‘real life,’ the truth about sex without being exploitative.”

As she read stories from women old and young, lesbian, bisexual and straight, Derrow had a number of personal revelations about lovemaking.

“Sex changes all the time,” she writes in her introduction. “It swoops, soars, occasionally stalls, always evolving, happily often for the better, as we learn what we love and what we won’t tolerate, what we can give and allow ourselves to get in return.”

While the book is geared toward women, Derrow hopes it will be shared with their partners.

“Men will relate to it,” she promises. “They’ll be astounded to learn that coital expectations are neither male nor female.”

In fact, she hopes that all people, regardless of gender, age or orientation, will realize upon reading her book that sex is an unpredictable, distinctly human gift that has progressed well beyond the proverbial birds and bees and needs to be talked about candidly.

So far, the book has been well received. Publisher’s Weekly said Derrow “has selected essays that explore the wealth and variety of female sexual experience, making for a gender-transcending tale of sex lives that manages to be philosophical, poignant—and a great bit of naughty fun.”

Derrow will be reading from Beyond the Bedroom Door at Barnes & Noble (2289 Broadway at West 82nd Street, 212-362-8835) on Jan. 15 at 7 p.m., and as part of a pre-Valentine’s Day panel on writing about sex and relationships at Borders (10 Columbus Circle and Broadway, 212-823-9775) on Feb. 13 at 7 p.m.