Fantasist.

I've mentioned before in passing that there's a big overlap between perverts and geeks. There are always people wearing their collars at the Ren Faire and people getting into animated discussions of Joss Whedon at fetish meetings. I'm kinda geeky myself--I bet you, uh, never guessed.

Why is this? Well, there are a couple common themes to geekhood and perversion. One is tinkering. Vanillas say "normal sex is so good, I'm happy with it as it is"--geeks know that science must always move forward. Sure, sex is awesome already, but it could be better! We can rebuild it, make it better, stronger, faster. We have the technology.

Another is the lack of inhibitions. Geeks don't care what the world thinks of their 5-months-in-the-making furry cosplay masterpiece; they know that it's awesome and the people who matter will agree. Well, geeks don't care what the world thinks of their sex either.

There's probably some compensation in there too. Geeks didn't get laid in high school--or even if they did, they were still mocked for being unsexy and they probably felt they weren't getting nearly as many sexual privileges as the cool kids. Well, we're grownups now, so in your face, cool kids!

And the most important, probably, is fantasy. Many perversions are really enactments of sex as high drama. Probably the one defining feature of geekery, more concrete than any other, is escapism. So naturally, we have to escape ordinary human sex. My bedroom is a dungeon, my lover a beautiful monster, violence making our sex so much more intense and passionate and dramatic than reality. Perversion creates a heightened world, sexier than mere sex, a world insulated from reality, (a world where you're really awesome cool and sexy) a world you can be swept away in.

I used to run around with my friends and get bruised and dirty playing that we were grand mythical figures. Now I do... really, the same thing, but with less pants.

Self-defeat.

I keep putting off looking for a boy because I feel like I'm not attractive enough. I know this is dumb.

A) I'm not getting any more attractive anytime soon, so it's not "putting off" so much as "avoiding."
B) I've met lots of nice boys while wearing this very same face.
C) The worst thing that could happen is that I'll still be single. It's not like if I get rejected too much I'll be doubly single. Or something.
D) You know what's really unattractive? "Wah wah I'm ugly" self-pity.

I don't like being single, and random sex, though fun, leaves a lot of needs unfulfilled. Gotta get back up on that horsie.

Silent night, holy night.

Silent night

missletoe or a camel toe lol

holy night

Exhibitionist male seeking voyuer females to watch me shoot my load.

All is calm

If you aint freakin we aint speakin ;)

all is bright

Well this year was not expected to spend Chrismtas alone but here we go. Life and its surprises.I am french with a big african dick.

Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

Classy Sassy Cougar Seeks Sweet Daddy Chubby Honey

Holy Infant

Sub pussy boi looking for TOP GUYS to come over pull my panties to the side and fuck my pussy hole !!!!

so tender and mild

Done with family - time for cocks

Sleep in heavenly peace

Anyone want a nice christmas candy cane to lick. I have one that's real sweet and you can lick and suck on it all day long.

Sleep in heavenly peace

YOU WANT MY SMALL DICK? - m4m - 19

Beluga.

I was at the zoo the other day (the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium--Zoolights are on 'til the 4th!) and I saw a Beluga (a white whale) and my first thought was "it looks like a penis."



And I was ashamed.

But then I thought about it. What I mean isn't just that it's an elongated shape, but it's a shape of strength and sinew, of sleekness and grace. There's a lovely symmetry to a beluga's muscular underside, a sense of great power gracefully shaped. They're beautiful animals, and the way they glide their three-thousand-pound bodies through the water with just a flick--and just for the sake of play!--is awe-inspiring.

"Looks like a penis" isn't always goofy or insulting or potty-humorous. A beluga looks like a penis because it is beautiful in the same ways that a penis is beautiful.

1897.

Nakey.

I love being naked. I sleep naked every night. (I put on a bathrobe to leave the room, even just to the bathroom--my roommate puts up with enough eccentricity as it is.) Sometimes alone in my room I'll just hang out naked, reading or doing crafts or whatever, just enjoying the feeling of freedom.

One of the many things I love about being in a relationship is hanging out naked together. Even watching TV is more fun without pants, and cooking naked is a blast as long as you're not working with hot oil. (Naked + apron is a pretty sex look too.)

And one of the best damn things in the world is being naked outdoors. It's hard to arrange though. I live in an apartment where the only outdoors space is an extremely visible balcony, and I'm not on nakey terms with anyone who has a private backyard. I've been naked in the tent while camping sometimes. Chilly but fun. Maybe in the summer I can backpack to somewhere sufficiently remote, hopefully with the company of a special friend, and be nakey there.

There's no way to say this without sounding like a creep (and, uh, having a sex blog with 400 posts bragging about what a horny pervert I am probably doesn't help), but I really wish nonsexual nudity was socially acceptable. I wish it was a sociable thing--hey, we're having a party, bring a six-pack and a towel to sit on!

In my sexual utopia, nudity is like taking off your shoes. It's unusual to do in public, but no big scandal if you do, and it's a sign of relaxation to do in private, but no judgement if you don't. And it's true that you usually take off your shoes to have sex, but that doesn't make shoelessness sexually menacing or vulnerable or inviting, it's little more than a coincidence.

As I type this, I'm wearing nothing but glasses and a hairtie, and I am so damn comfy.

Bad ideas for sex toys.

It's sex, so your mileage may and does vary. Hell, I can't keep the same mileage myself for two weeks running. But certain things are just silly.

Like sex dolls. ("Love dolls"--a case in which the euphemism actually makes things worse if you think about it.) I've got no objection to artificial vaginas--Lord knows I've got enough faux penises lying around--but somehow an entire artificial woman seems different. It feels like at that point it's filling an emotional rather than a purely physical need, and that's creepy.

And on a more practical level, they always look freakin' terrible. You get a box that looks like this, holding something that looks like this. (Also available in racist!) If you are trying to replicate the full-body experience of sharing yourself with a woman, this seems somewhat lacking.

Less "silly," and more "peritonitis," there's some very poorly thought-out bondage gear out there. Dear God, what happens if he trips?

Speaking of peritonitis, who among us hasn't pondered the irresistible erotic appeal of a home colonoscopy?

Hey! Haven't you ever wanted dildos modeled after the genitalia of various animals? Of course you have! Try the "Orca," it's life-size!

While you're doing all these terrible things to your butt, make sure and lube it up with some nice anesthetizing benzocaine! Because there's just nothing sexier than "oooh baby, I can't feel that... oh yeah, it's so fucking numb!" (Well, there's one thing sexier: "huh, blood. I didn't feel anything...")

This next one isn't offensive or dangerous, it just looks hilarious.

Even if it weren't being modeled on the slack, pale genitalia of a corpse, this doesn't seem like a good idea either.

I guess it doesn't make a difference here since the fingers are just squishy foam stuff, but does anyone actually have sex like this?

I can't tell if this one is racially insensitive or just baffling. (I once had a rather, ah, "suburban" friend try to tell me "black men have white dicks!" We had to go through eyewitness testimony and multiple photo references before she'd believe me.)

At least the owners of this site know how weird they are. (The entire "Strange Sex Toys" category--and the shameless editorialization therein--is one hell of a read.)




Finally, just be glad you're not a horse. Or the person who provides the "manual stimulation" to the horse.

I've got analogy to this post.

Here's a question I still haven't quite learned to answer like a grown-up:

"So, uh, what're you into?"

Imagine going to the fanciest restaurant in the world. A single meal costs $1000 and you have to wait months for a reservation, but everyone swears that enjoyed properly it's worth every penny. You get there and find there's no menu, just a waiter asking "So, what'll it be?"

Except that they can't make everything, and they might laugh at you if you order something gauche, and might kick you out if you order something that really offends the chef. Other things they'll make but will be bad or mediocre. Some dishes are the best in the world. You don't know what ingredients they've got, what they're good at, or what cuisines they scoff at. There are some almost-safe bets--they've gotta do a decent steak, right?--but absolutely no sureties.

If your answer is "Well, what do you like to cook?", you look like a total dork and they just ask you again.

Order! QUICK! And sound sexy while you're doing it!




By the time I've dealt with the pressure and the risk-reward trade-offs and the urge to weasel-word them until they give me a clue, I've completely forgotten what kind of food I actually like.

Cosmocking: January '09!

Purple cover! Amanda Bynes! Funny, I always thought it was "Byrnes" until now! Wearing a leopard-print dress thing that looks like really tacky old-lady lingerie! One of the cover stories is "Have an Orgasm Every Time" and that strikes me as hyperbole because even I can't do that and if I can't, no one can!

I think this is going to be a short Cosmocking because this issue is really, really, really, really boring. Like, more than usual even.

Surprising Things that Turn Him Off
Being Kinky in Bed (At First)
There's nothing wrong with showing enthusiasm. But when it comes to off-the-wall sexcapades, setting the bar--or stripper pole--too high the first few times can make guys wonder what else you have in common with Jenna Jameson. "It feels weird to say it out loud, but I really don't want a girl to be completely uninhibited in bed when I first start sleeping with her," says John, 27. "I like to feel like we discover some stuff together and then work up to the really experimental stuff."
I'm actually about halfway with John here--it's awesome to discover new ways to have fun together--but only if you're actually discovering them. If you're just biding your time as you reel out the tricks you already knew, it's not experimentation, it's pretense.

Likewise, I know from experience it's bad to take a candy-shop approach to a new partner ("And you should use this knife on me and here's my biggest dildo and how do you feel about pee and and and..."), but overambition is bad for sex at any stage of the relationship, and that's not the same thing as declaring that the first time must be pseudo-reluctant mish or he'll think you're a ho.

Touching a man near his package in any way--with your hand, with your mouth, with your grocery cart at the store--is usually good enough to rev his engine.
I can't tell if they're joking.

Men with blue eyes are more likely to choose a blue-eyed woman as their partner. The reason: since blue eyes are a recessive genetic trait, two blue-eyed parents can only have a blue-eyed kid; a child with any other eye color must have been fathered by another guy. Blue-eyed men subconsciously know this and select women with blue eyes so that they can spot if they've been cheated on.
Or it could just be that people tend to date within their own ethic group. Otherwise I want to see the stats on guys with attached earlobes.

Also, eye color inheritance is complex, and it is possible for a blue-eyed person and a green- or brown-eyed person to have a blue-eyed child. "At least she's not cheating on me with a homozygotic guy!"

Kiss a guy on the right-side of his body. The left hemisphere of the brain, which is responsible for positive feelings, controls the right half of the body. So this way, he will process your presence in the optimistic part of his mind and experience greater pleasure.
Seems like every damn issue of Cosmo has another tip for dating a split-brain patient. I like my men with corpora callosa, yo.

Are you Crazy Enough in Bed?
Hoo boy. There's gonna be a few quotes from this article.

You've probably heard male friends sing the praises of girls who are "crazy in bed." But there's such a thing as good wild (he sees your uninhibited side) and bad wild (he has to see a chiropractor or shrink after the act).
Yes, yes, be kinky, but don't be, you know, kinky. Or something. Fuck, I don't know what this means. I know the chiropractor/shrink thing isn't meant literally, but I'm having a hell of a time figuring out what it is supposed to indicate.

Guys dig women who are enthusiastic in bed. That may mean being up for giving and receiving oral sex, wearing hot lingerie, or asking to go multiple rounds.
Um, wow, that's "crazy?" Isn't it more like "not asexual?"

While men appreciate it when you shake things up in the sack, they do have boundaries (who knew?). Some respondents described such activities as anal sex, playing with their back door, being into S and M, and offering to bring another women to bed as over-the-top for them personally.
Oh nice, we've got a precise line drawn between good kinky (frilly undies!) and bad kinky (actual kink!). For fuck's sake. But this is all really individual. I know guys who'd love to get fucked in the ass but would see a second woman as cheating and beyond their boundaries. I know more guys who'd love a threesome and buttsex but have no interest in pain. The only way you're going to know these things is to ask.

Also, your own desires. Cripes, we could have one damn mention in here of that. Why am I to bend over backwards to be just kinky enough (even if I hate receiving oral) and not too kinky (even if I love it in the butt) and all he has to do is sit there while I make assumptions about what he'd like? Cripes.

Q: I went out to dinner with this guy, and it was great--we got along well, and there was a definite spark. But when it came time to pay, he pulled out a coupon. I'm hardly a princess, but that totally killed it for me. Am I being too hard on him?
If it was a good dinner at a place you liked, why do you care, Princess?

(Completely irrelevant aside: I know two women who are actually named Princess. Some parents...)

Q: I started dating this guy a couple of months ago, but he broke up with me after three weeks. Ever since then, we've been acting like a couple, and he says he's in love with me. But he also says he doesn't want a girlfriend because of "rules" he has for himself. What's his deal?
A: DTMFA. Cripes.

Secret to being a confident chick: Stilletos
Nicole Lapin is one of cnn.com's youngest anchors. Her job--covering everything from going green to earthquakes--keeps her life exciting. Here's her trick for looking put together: "Classic 4-inch black pumps. They go with anything, and they are sexy and professional."
Hot damn, four inches? That's about as professional as clear plastic platforms with sparklies. (And in earthquake rubble? Never mind comfortable shoes, I want some goddamn steel-toes.) It especially seems like overkill for a job where nobody ever sees your feet.

Dunking the same chip into a dip twice is a major party foul. And as a gracious Cosmo girl, you're obligated to call it out. Smile and in a jovial tone say, "I know men want to swap spit with you, but I don't. No double dipping! [Laugh]"
Good lord, that's awkward.

It's been so long!

The worst part of being single right now, the one thing that cannot be replaced by any combination of emotionally intimate friends and physically intimate pick-ups:

Backrubs.

Not light little playful/seductive backrubs, either. Backrubs that dig in and knead and work rock-hard muscles into putty. Backrubs that hurt they're so badly needed. Backrubs that involve fists and elbows. Backrubs that last as long as they need to. (I think maybe some people can get these from their friends? I dunno, I really don't touch my friends much. I wasn't hugged enough as a child.)

Fortunately, unlike most boyfriend services, this can be purchased. I've many times felt waffly about buying a massage and never actually done it, because I get all weird about buying a luxury, I guess. But it's not that expensive, and I can certainly afford just one, and I think it would do absolute wonders for my back and my brain.

Lube!

Shit, a whole week? I've been a very naughty blogger. I should be punished. Spanked. Made to tell you what a dirty dirty girl I am and touch myself in my bad places while you watch.

Anyway. Today I want to talk about lube!

I don't need lube for regular sex; I'm sadly not a squirter but I do get plenty juicy. But for the butt, for unreasonably large objects, for extended play, and for the occasional Mystery Juice Failure, there is lube!

The best lube in the world is, I believe, J-Lube. Because it's a power, you can vary the consistency from super-goopy to nearly-water, and one $10 bottle makes a million jillion gallons of lube. (Also, the whole vet-supply thing just makes it so naughty.) It has a really nice, ungreasy texture that's pretty similar to natural ladyjuices, and it's so slippery and so easy to get in copious amounts that it's the canonical fisting lube.

KY stings me. I don't know if this is just a personal idiosyncrasy/allergy, but anyway I can't use it.

Astroglide doesn't sting, but it never worked that well for me. It wears out in about five minutes and when it does it turns really really sticky.

Slippery Stuff Liquid isn't bad I guess, but it's kinda... subtle. Almost water. It's good for going from dry to wet, but if you need to go from wet to dripping, it's just not enough. I think it's okay for vaginal sex or maybe if you're experienced at anal, but nothing heavy-duty.

I heard a lot of people sing the praises of silicone lube, so I tried ID Millennium and it's got good points and bad points. Good: a tiny amount is soooo slippery and it lasts forever. Bad: it feels kinda greasy and it never goes away. If you spill a single drop anywhere it's a huge pain to clean up--it will not dry, it will not absorb--and even if you don't spill it stays on your hands and genitals for hours. This stuff would be great lube if only it came with an antidote.

(Also, you never heard me say this, but it works surprisingly well for styling your hair. Just a little bit gives such lovely shine and frizz control...)

The lube currently in my nightstand is Wet Gel Body Glide. I like it. It's long-lasting but easy to clean up, has a nice thick texture that can handle the tough jobs, doesn't get sticky at all, and it feels very... clean. If you're not yet at the point in your life where you're okay with buying your sex supplies from veterinary supply companies, this would be a good lube to use.


One piece of lube advice: use too much. I used to get in the habit of using just a couple drops and calling something "lubed" when it was coated all over, no matter how thinly. But it feels much, much better to get things wet as fuck. The correct adjective is not merely "slick" but "glorpy."

It happens to every guy sometimes, I'm sure.

What does it mean when a guy is hard as hell when you slide a buttplug up his ass, hard and dripping and making little "mmm" noises when you make him suck a dildo at your crotch, but goes totally soft when you try to fuck him regular?



Oh well, at least we still had the dildo handy.

Sex Toy Reviews: Nubby G!

Sex toys always have embarrassing names. I'm not really sure what name wouldn't be embarrassing though; none comes to mind. It's either embarrassingly descriptive ("The Cone") or embarrassingly non-descriptive ("The Sybian") and either way I kind of cringe. It's probably my own problem.

Anyway. It is nubby and it is for your, uh, G. And OH MY FUCKING GOD does it feel FUCKING PERFECT. It's thick--maybe too thick if a little stretching isn't your thing, definitely a toy to use with lube--and it has a nice big firm thingy pushing right where it feels great. The nubby things on the bottom are a little frustrating since they almost-but-not quite reach your clit and ass (your perineum may vary), but they still help spread the sensations around nicely.

The vibrator doesn't do much. It's in the wrong place and it's kinda loud. Better to just use the toy with the vibe off and just kinda wiggle it manually.

One caveat: this is not silicone, it's made of some sort of non-Mother-Jones-approved evil demon rubber that will give you cancer or something. (Phthalate-softened rubber, specifically.) Personally I read the scientific evidence and don't think it matters unless you eat a bucket of vibrators for dinner every night, but if you're a paranoid hippie, there are lots of similar things that are made of silicone. Get it quick before they decide silicone gives you cancer too!

I guess it doesn't sound great on paper, but damn, it just feels so goddamn good. Even to just put it in and leave it there, not even touching anything, feels fantastic.

"I'm polymorphous, which should tell you everything you need to know."

Oh man. This right here, this is 90% of the reason I'm taking a break from the kink community right now. (5%: Because my job is sucking my soul out my nose; 5%: Because I can't get away from a certain group of people who apparently have NO OTHER LIFE and will be at ALL events anywhere in the area and continually give me a passive-aggressive hard time about not being kinky the correct way which they have scientifically determined.)

Sex Toy Review: Babeland Silver Bullet!

Someone asked me to do a bunch of sex toy reviews. I live to serve, so here ya go, someone!

Your most basic sex toy.

Okay, for starters, don't pay $15. There are like a million ways to get these things for $3-5 or free, and it's the same product and works just as well.

This thing is really easy on batteries. I've had the same two AAs in it for over a year of pretty frequent use.

And it's silent! If you dangle it in the air or hold it in your palm you can hear it, but press it where it's gonna go and it's damn near 100% muffled.

As far as functionality, it's very pure: a tiny little unit of vibration where you want it. It works on penises (only some guys like it, but the ones who do love it), nipples (very interesting with clamped nipples), clitorises, labia, anything external. I once heard a crazy person say she used it on her "third eye" but I think that would just rattle your skull pretty bad.

This toy works for everything from "it's the end of a long day but I'm horny, let's get my rocks off quick so I can sleep" to elaborate scenes. If you only have one sex toy, this'd be a pretty good choice.

Thanks.

I'm thankful that I've gotten to live so many of my dreams already.

Filthy Details.

We were both surprised at each others' looks when we met at the door. He'd grown a goatee; I'd started wearing glasses. We'd both gained visible muscle. And we both looked, somehow, older. We've been doing this thing on and off for more than a year now and we are older; but we've both been through a lot of changes over this time as well, changes that laid the faintest foundations of lines that will one day wear deep.

We went up to the bedroom immediately but for quite a while we didn't fuck. We just flopped back on the bed together, cuddled, and talked. We slipped out of our shirts but it was more comfortable than sexy. We were both tired as hell. But we weren't there to snuggle; it'd been months since I'd been properly tied up and more months since he'd gotten to tie anyone.

He stripped me naked, threw me over his knee and spanked me, pure heat at the juncture of his hand and my ass. It'd been too long since I'd enjoyed pain. I'd almost wondered if I still would. I did. I enjoyed the fuck out of it.

He tied my hands behind my back, laid ropes above and below my breasts and over my shoulders. He had me kneel on the bed and he tied my ankles to the iron bars of the headboard. He gagged me; I needed it. When I talk too much I think too much.

Clothespins. One on each nipple, more grabbing up little pinches of the meat of my breasts, and--I yelped with each one--more dangling in two neat rows from my cunt. He teased and twiddled them, flicked and tugged at them, and watched me squirm. He tapped the juncture of the clothespins and my skin with the tip of a cane, and I more than squirmed. He ripped the clothespins off, one by one, and made me count them with my voice muffled through the gag. I was in pain in sensitive places and I couldn't speak or move. I felt so free.

Finally he bent me forward and fucked me with a dildo, hard. I was more than ready and was groaning deeply from the first thrust on. I came hard and fast and he didn't stop until I was exhausted.

We rested and talked, and then he lay back and asked me to tease him. I like teasing; it's easy and fun and just a little mean, and you know damn well that the payoff will be worth it. I played with his cock with the very tips of my tongue and fingers, a moment of good firm stroking, a moment of bare grazes, a moment letting him just hang and then stroking hard again. By the time I finally mounted him, he was on a hair-trigger and gone in a few thrusts.

We dozed off together for a few minutes, talked more--he's really much less of a jerk these days--and bade our farewells. I went home and slept like the dead, utterly spent, but for the first time in quite a while, satisfied.

Streak broken.

Well, there's always Benny. Filthy details later because I'm so tired right now.

I was pretty tired during, honestly. It's hard to stay up all night working out in the cold and then get horny. Possible, but not easy.

Oh god not again.

I'm getting desperate. Tonight's attempted fuck managed to actually be fucking me when he had his crisis of conscience. It was literally "oh yeah, oh yeah, mmm... oh god what am I doing I can't do this." Which, along with the fact that he talked about his specific psychological hangups in some detail, makes me fairly confident it wasn't an appearance thing, which is good I guess but doesn't make me any more laid.

It was something along the lines of "I'm a nice guy, so I don't do things like this, but I want to be so aggressive, but that's not me, but I just have these urges when I'm by myself but with you actually here it's different because I don't know if I want to actually act out my fantasies," which I actually do sympathize with and I tried to talk over with him, but... ergh, I'm not a traveling psychologist. And if I were I wouldn't accept payment in the form of blue balls.

I think my ego has actually developed to the point where I can almost handle rejection. I mean, I know plenty of people find me attractive, so if some people don't, that's not a reflection on me, it's just life. Some people like Vegemite and some don't, and if a specific person isn't into Vegemite it doesn't mean that Vegemite is bad or they're making a personal attack on Vegemite.

Still, I'm slightly annoyed that he couldn't decide what he wanted first, and then arrange and initiate sex second.

I think I'm gonna try and screw Mr. Neon. We seem to like each other well enough, I'm sure I can get around the no-pheromones thing if I concentrate. "Hey, Neon, would you mind wearing another guy's undershirt on this date? Let him get kinda sweaty in it first. No, no, I'm serious..."

Sexuality sure is fluid...

It's truly amazing how many men there are on craigslist who are "straight, looking to suck & fuck with another straight guy." On the one hand, I sorta get what they're trying to say--straight in their daily life, stereotypically straight looking and acting--but on the other hand my mind always boggles a little.

It sort of makes me sad too. "I'm not some queer, I just fuck guys sometimes!" shouldn't be something you need to think about yourself. I applaud the idea that sucking cock shouldn't define your entire identity, but I hate that it's done by linguistic denial of the sexuality itself.

I might be measuring from a sample size of one here, but I really believe everyone is a little bit bi. And I believe that's great. I just wish dudes didn't have to be all weird about it.

Rejected twice in one day.

Okay, so in a fit of pique over being stood up I did my usual rational-adult-response thing and got a "random slut wants your random ass" date off craigslist, met the guy and we hung out and talked for like two hours, and then he said "I don't think I can do this, I've been through some emotional shit recently" and walked me to my car. (I couldn't tell whether the "emotional shit" was legitimate, but feh, it wouldn't do me any good to know.)

I couldn't get laid in a men's prison with a fistful of pardons.

Rrrgh.

Stood Up!?!?

Well, tonight's date was apparently Mr. Helium, because he was invisible and flew away.

I showed up to the right place at the right time, he did not, fuuuck.

His loss. Fool doesn't know he could've had Holly Pervocracy.

Friend Zone.

Saw Mr. Neon again tonight. I'm starting to really warm up to him as a person, but there's just no sexual component. All my thoughts on him are along the lines of "God, I'd love to see him get out of those clothes... and into some warmer ones so we could go hiking together." I enjoy spending time with him, but there's something horrifyingly panty-drying about the experience. It's weird because he's a good-looking guy--almost out of my league, he's younger than me and in great shape and super-cute--but I have no sexy feelings about him. Maybe he was born without pheromones or something.

He's certainly not sexually assertive, and it's hard for me to distinguish among shyness, politeness, and disinterest. I was kind of shocked when he kissed me on the lips, because I'd almost convinced myself that he'd friend-zoned me.

Meh, meh, and meh. I've never been this sexually unattracted to someone I respect as a person. He's such a nice guy, I'd love to have him in my life, but I just don't know how I could fuck him.

I think my psyche is saving all its lust for married men, men who live very far away, men who don't like me, straight women, gay men, and fictional characters.


Anyway, I've got a different date tomorrow night. (Really tonight by now.) Maybe this one will be spicier. Maybe he'll be Mr., I dunno, Oxygen!

Huh.

Date with Mr. Neon tonight. I'm washing my sheets and I don't even know why. So they'll be nice and comfy when I come home alone to sleep, I spose. Gotta take care of your own needs, right?

Anyway, when I'm not getting laid or causing Internets Drama I gotta fall back on the recurring cheap stuff like Cosmocking, but that's really only good once a month. So: Search Term Craziness! These are all search terms people used to find this blog.

pervocracy "i measured my hands"
This wouldn't be so weird except that there were thirty-two searches for it, spread out pretty evenly over a month, not all from the same person, and averaging eight minutes on the site. Huh. Anyway, if it's a topic of great interest, my hands are about 3.25" wide at the first knuckle, 8" long from wrist joint to tip of middle finger, and 1" thick. I wear Medium size surgical gloves. OOH BABY TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR HAND SIZE...?

nose cum
cum nose
"Cum nose" wins by a hair, but these two are the second and third most popular searches after "pervocracy." Ahchoo.

"i'm not a slut, i'm just"
...misunderstood!

"started dating at 25"
Better late than never, I guess.

babypop vril
I searched for this, and yeah, it doesn't mean anything. At all. It's not even a misspelling of something that means something. This, my friends, is a phrase that does not exist anywhere on the indexed Internet. That gives it magic powers. (Well, it's indexed now, so don't use this one. Make up your own.)

cosmo should women swallow cum?
Why are you asking them? Anyway, Cosmo would never say "cum." They'd say, like "those unavoidable manly fluids" or "the not-so-fresh side effects of nookie." Something prudish yet icky.

cum evolution
In this specific case, I'm a Creationist.

mara jade bdsm
"Ooh, not the lightsaber, Daddy!"

positive things for swallowing cum
"See, honey, as this PowerPoint presentation clearly shows, there are at least 17 synergistic win-wins..."

what kind of girl swallows cum
Some of every kind, man. You'd be surprised.

swallow "first date" semen
Whoa there cowboy.

shoots cum out nose
KA-BLAM!

Cosmocking: December '08!

Noble Gas Boy has sent me an email gushing about how he really enjoyed our room-temperature date and really wants to see me again. Huh. I'm still undecided. On the one hand, better lame-but-cordial date than Civ IV; on the other hand, I dunno if I should string out something that doesn't seem to have much future. Maybe we can Just Be Friends? Dunno.

Anyway. Jessica Simpson on the cover! Brownish background! Words that appear on the cover: Sex, Sexy, Naked, Orgasm, Skanky, Uncensored, Rapist. Oh, and a little emoticon "orgasm face" that looks like this: :-o

One thing I'd like to make a general comment on because it came up about 500 times in this issue: you know, ladies, guys don't care about five pounds. Guys may care about your overall weight, but I really don't believe any man on Earth gives a damn about the difference between 120 and 125. (Or between 180 and 185.) A thin woman with a little tummy still reads as a thin woman, and a curvy woman with control-top and cincher still reads as a curvy woman. So lay off the OMG A LITTLE FAT SPOT bullshit, your overall body shape is what matters and anyway there are guys who like just about every kind.

My roommate and I have co-Cosmocked in detail and agreed that all of the "embarrassing confessions" are clearly fictional and written by the same person. Nonetheless I'm still going to mock them, because whoever this person is, they're really dumb.
"I was psyched when this hot guy asked me to a formal. It had an open bar, so we were overserved and couldn't keep our hands off each other when we got back to my place. When I woke up, I saw him groggily sitting up in bed and giving me a weird look. Then I looked down and saw my pasties and full-body nude Spanx. I'd fallen asleep in them after removing my clothes the night before. I bolted out of bed to the bedroom."
Why the hell did you go out with a hot guy wearing underwear you'd be embarrassed to be seen in? Who wears pasties to a formal? What are Spanx? (Bodyshapers. I had to look that up.) What happened to a goddamn bra and panties? Could your I-must-never-appear-flawed vanity complex be any bigger? If it were, would you put it in a shaper?

"My roommates and I threw a blowout party at our place and were pleased that hot girls showed up. I ended up making out with one in the foyer before inviting her upstairs to my room. She was straddling me on my bed, and we were kissing intensely. I thought it would be sexy if I took charge and threw her down on the mattress to switch positions and get on top. But when I sat up and grabbed her, I swung her body and lost my hold. She flew off the bed and onto the floor, yelling 'Ouch!' I quickly moved to pick her up. She stood up, grabbed her dress, and peaced out."
So you make one awkward mistake and the girl, rather than laughing it off or even yelling at you, just disappears? Dang. That girl was Nintendo Hard.

His Point Of View: "Shocks I Don't Want"
"Please don't surprise me with a kid or a failed marriage. I start wondering what went wrong with this guy who you were committed to for so long."
You hear that, ladies? You're only allowed to get married once. Ever. Because if you can't make a relationship with one person last your entire life, you clearly aren't good for any relationships at all ever again.

"I never want to discover that you're actually a man. 'Oh, by the way, I have a penis.' Or even worse, I don't want to feel something that clearly shouldn't be there."
LOL TRANSSEXUALS LOL YOUR SEXUALITY IS SOOO FUNNY CAUSE IT'S SOOO GROSS LOL. Anyway, does this really happen a lot? All the transgendered people I know are very upfront with potential partners. I've never heard of anyone who enjoys acting as a boogeyman "trap" who goes around triggering fratboy homopobia for yucks.

But if you [have sex with your eyes closed], she'll start to think you're fantasizing about her sister or trying to avoid seeing her fat elbow.
Fat elbow? Seriously?

"I recently moved in with my boyfriend. He always leaves the toilet seat up, which drives me nuts. [blah blah yelling doesn't work blah] When I was flipping through a magazine one afternoon, I ripped out all the ads with sexy, half-naked male models in them and taped one to the underside of the toilet-seat cover. I knew he'd be too lazy to untape the page and that it would force him to lower both the cover and the seat to avoid staring at a shirtless dude. The one time he did remove the picture, I put another back within minutes
LOL HOMOPHOBIA LOL GEE IT NEVER GETS OLD LAUGHING AT HOW RIDICULOUS IT WOULD BE IF A MAN WERE ATTRACTED TO MEN I MEAN EWWWW LOOOLLLLL. If you want to put an aversive picture on the toilet seat, is a good-looking man really the worst thing you can think of?

Also, even if he's being good, he still has to look at the dude while he pees.

The nervous system located along the spine acts like a traffic cop for his brain, directing it to (a) fill his penis with blood and help him stay erect, (b) speed up his pulse, and (c) forcefully contract his muscles until he climaxes. The spinal nerves also connect directly to those on his penis. So during foreplay glide your nails up and down his back or massage him with your breasts--he'll get a rush down below.
Well, only if you manage to crack open some bones and massage him inside his spinal column. (Actually, not even then, you'd probably just paralyze him.) I mean, yes, the spinal nerves connect to almost everything below the chin, and the penis is one of those things, but... NERVES DO NOT WORK LIKE THAT!!!

Surprisingly, his feet--and especially his toes--have a neurological connection with his penis. The area of his brain that regulates foot sensation is situated right next to the region that controls his erection.
So? That doesn't mean he feels foot sensations in his dick; I mean, how could he walk? The nervous system is actually a very organized thing that likes to put foot sensations in the feet and dick sensations in the dick, or you'd feel it in your eye every time you squeezed your thumb. If you want to stimulate his cock, stimulate his cock! If you want to stimulate his back or feet, hey, that's nice too, but you don't have to kid yourself.

[Do] watch the game with his friends. [Don't] cheer really loudly, chug beers, or tell off-color jokes. Let's put it this way: it's really hard for him to be sexually attracted to someone who reminds him of his buddies.
Yeah, it's such a total turn-off when women enjoy the same things that humans enjoy.

Q: I've been with my boyfriend for almost six months now, and we've never had a fight. This might sound crazy, but I've tried to get him mad by being bitchy for no real reason, and he never takes the bait. Does it mean that he's not passionate about me?
A: Yes. Yes, you are crazy. Very crazy.

[How to] claim your space if the person next to you on an airplane is taking up too much room: Approach the flight attendant and say "I'm very claustrophobic, and my seatmate and I aren't fitting in the space. Any chance I could get a new spot?" If that's not possible, stake your territory by putting down the armrest and placing your bag on the floor line that separates your space. Then put your arm on the shared armrest and your head in that hand, so it will be hard for him to invade your body zone. Also, stand up a magazine or folger between the seat cushions to accentuate the divide between you.
If I ever have to sit next to you on an airplane, I will beat you. I will take you out back after we get past terminal security and I will make you eat the tarmac.

Never mind.

Nah, not getting laid tonight. I'm kinda tired and unhorny and I've got work tomorrow and I'd rather just stay in. HOT LAZY BLOGGER ACTION! Oh baby I'm sitting in a comfy chair with my legs up as I type this oh baby.

No sex. :(

The date was a resounding "eh." He's a good-looking and good-hearted guy, and he was nice to me and we had a nice time I guess, but there was just no connection. You know how sometimes you get wrapped up in conversation with someone and by the end of the night it's like you've known each other for years? It was exactly the opposite of that.

So I didn't fuck him. It would've been unbearably awkward, and anyway I wasn't getting too aroused by the job-interview-ish "so, uh, tell me some books you enjoy, and why" nature of the date. He wasn't exactly all over me either. Our chemistry was like mixing argon and neon: nothing bad happens, but...

Welp, now I've had a proper date, fuck that noise, tomorrow I'ma get laid.

Happy Birthday To Me!

I'm twenty-three today!

Gosh I'm old.
Gosh I'm young.

Cosmocking: Not Losing All My Conservative Friends Quickie Edition!

Gotta get politics off the top post. I may be, I dunno, a "moderate independent liberaltarian" or whatever, but deep down my political understanding doesn't go deeper than "why can't we all just hug," so perhaps my piehole should stay closer to my areas of expertise.

Like 67 New Blow-His-Mind Moves. In which I cherry-pick for the stupid ones.

But first, this was on a sidebar:
he's mad that I'm leaning how to do CPR -- he says doing mouth-to-mouth is cheating on him
Wow. (Tell him about barrier masks and BVMs... while you're leaving because he is insane.)

4. “I melt when a girl screams a foreign phrase in bed. I was with one woman who used to yell Mucho gusto! I loved it. Turns out, it means ‘nice to meet you.’” —Gordon, 32
Je ne sais quoi! Mazel tov! Schadenfruede! Das vadanya! La grenouille le melon baisers!

6. “My girlfriend showed up at my door in a trashy outfit and introduced herself as my chick’s naughty pretend twin sister, Candy. She pushed me against the wall, we had mad sex, and then she left. The next day, she acted like nothing happened.” —JR, 27
Hm. She might also be crazy. (Or you might go to meet her family, and Candy will be there, and then shit's gonna get awkward.)

16. “This one girl wouldn’t let me manually guide my shaft into her, so I had to navigate without using any hands.” —Marshall, 23
Again, possibly crazy? Also, I guess a challenge is fun, but I'm not sure I see the erotic appeal of five minutes of "woops", "ouch", and "hangon, that's my butt."

22. “When my girlfriend found a tear in her sheet, she pulled my penis through the hole, and we had sex with the material separating us. The fact that the only parts of our bodies that touched were our naughty bits made it feel forbidden.” —Samuel, 27
I... guess? This is one of those things that might have actually worked in the moment, but for someone to try it because they read it in the magazine is only going to come out bizarre. (Also, your Hasidim joke goes here.)

35. “Try this only if you’re on the floor: When he’s on top, wrap your arms around each other, and rock from side to side. The blood rush he’ll get will amp up his orgasm.” —Sue, 27
It seems like sort of a cuddly romantic thing to do (sorta), but blood rush? Really? Are you a centrifuge?

42. “Take his member into your mouth, and suck hard as you slowly pull back up. Then swirl your tongue over the tip.” —Kia, 30
Nothing at all wrong with this tip... except that they're now listing the very concept of oral sex as a "new blow-his mind tip." "For a real erotic thrill, try taking his penis and putting it in your vagina! Then move back and forth a lot! This will stimulate key nerve clusters in both of you and greatly intensify your orgasms!"

44. “Guys love how it feels to enter you. Next time you have sex, ask him to pull out after 12 thrusts, and stroke his penis for a few seconds. Then let him penetrate again.” —Sarah, 28
"Stop, stop! Pull out! ...What, don't you really like that?"

46. “Sprinkle a little pepper under his nose right before he climaxes. Sneezing can feel similar to an orgasm and amplify the feel-good effects.” —Cindy, 32
I feel like I've read this one before. (Only under a slightly different fake name and age.) It must really be true then! After all, it does make perfect sense.

47. “When on top, lean forward, and cup your hands over his ears. Depriving him of this sense will heighten the others.” —Mary, 29
Huh.

61. During doggie-style sex, lean on one arm, reach back, and scratch his boys in a circular motion.
Yeah, yeah, men like to scratch their balls, but I don't think they like it that way.

Prop 8 WON?!?!?

Why the fuck would you vote against gay marriage? If you're gay you're for it and if you're not you've got no self-interest either way, so what the hell happened? Who is voting against this? Why? How do they justify themselves?

I don't understand people.


But hey, Obama won, and...y'know, I'm not that stoked that he beat McCain, I could've lived with either, but I'm glad as fuck that Bush is going. It was thirty-five degrees in Seattle last night, and this was the scene on the street:

Conventionality!

I have an actual, honest-to-God date Sunday with someone I enjoy socially but have not exchanged photographs or discussion of genitalia with! I'm very excited. Are we going to have sex? I DON'T KNOW! Fascinating feeling.


Also, remember that retarded "Porn for Women" book from way back? I randomly found a page with some scans. Yeah... it's retarded all right. I mean, the models are awful cute, but... my first thought of what I'd do with them isn't "home-cooked dinner." (And even assuming that I go along with the "women's greatest fantasy is clothed cute men being doormatty!" conceit, I don't want a man who pulls over for directions. I want a man who knows how to use the Thomas Guide.)

FYI.

This may just be me, but my nipples are almost numb. I can feel it when they're forcefully bitten or pinched (mmm), but trying to gently caress them? Doesn't do much. My breasts can appreciate soft touches; although the nipples are pink and sticky-outy and all, they're actually not sensitive at all.

I still like seeing a dude's mouth on them though.

Your breastage may vary. But it's always worth asking! It's pretty widely known that some men have sensitive nipples and some don't; I'm here to point out that women are the same.

First Date Fucking.

Sorry for no posty, it's been a busy week, with insane amounts of overtime (85 hour workweek, good Lord) and Halloween partyin' duties to boot.

Anyway I've been thinking about dates, and specifically about the third-date rule. Which I've never followed; I live by a first-date rule. Unless it was an unalloyed oh-God-he's-a-creep-when-will-it-be-over disaster, every date I've been on has ended without pants. (Due to the "women are the gatekeepers of sex, men take whatever they can get" paradigm of American society, or possibly my immense charms, no guy has ever had a problem with this.) Every guy I've ever considered a boyfriend has gotten pantsless on the day we met.

I've had a lot of people tell me this is a bad idea. He won't respect you, he won't enjoy it if there's no "challenge" or "chase", he won't think you have relationship potential.

To which there are a lot of answers: hey, he got naked too; my sexuality isn't some prize I hand out; fucking a woman isn't disrespecting her; hey, I've gotten some swell boyfriends out of it.

But I worry sometimes. You can make logical arguments and you can bemoan the dominant paradigm, but that doesn't undominant it and in the end I'd rather have a fulfilling relationship than fix the world. Should I start waiting to have sex? Hold off til the third date, until he puts effort into wooing me, until we've got some sort of real connection? Because I use the word "slut" but deep down I'm not a slut; I'm just a very horny conventional girl, and what I really want is a steady boyfriend I can fuck about eight times a day. If I could achieve this paradoxically by not having sex for a couple days, I'd do it.

It feels so goddamn manipulative though. I really hate that kind of dishonest power differential, the idea that I'm withholding something from him to control him. If I didn't want sex that would make it okay, but I do so it's dishonest to act otherwise. I think the only ethical option is for me to start humping his leg before we're out of the restaurant.

Young ladies must preserve their precious neurotransmitters! DON'T GIVE HIM YOUR DOPAMINE GIRL.

Man, the abstinence movement rhetoric about oxytocin is weird.

Never mind that the scientific basis is pretty shaky. Never mind that it's creepy as shit to assign love to a chemical released at orgasm. Never mind that apparently marriage is so sacred that it alters your biochemistry.

I just think it's weird to A) need any scientific backing for the statement "ending relationships causes emotional pain" and B) use that as an argument against having any relationships at all. It makes them sound like cranky old divorcees. I know, going into a relationship, that it's going to end and that it's going to suck when it does. I just believe that the stuff in between is worth it.

I don't know the name of the specific neurotransmitter involved here, but I'm pretty damn sure that going to bed alone every night for goddamn years isn't entirely emotionally painless either.

Resolved:

To not have one more anonymous fuck or play session until I have been on at least one honest-to-God, clothes-on, actual-conversation-made date.

(Established fuckbuddies are okay, but don't reset the date counter.)
(Fucking at the end of the date is okay, as long as it comes as at least a minor surprise.)
(Five minutes in a coffeeshop is not a date.)

Don't get me wrong, Slut Lyfe 4Eva, but the last couple weeks I've had all kinds of weird discontents, and I think I need to take a break. I've fucked enough dudes; I want to fuck a person.

It's so lame when you call it that.

Shove me to my knees, piss in my face, make me call you Daddy, beat me til I cry.


Let's engage in humiliation, watersports, role-play, and corporal.


I hate fetish labels. They distance and categorize everything that's supposed to be nasty and messed-up and visceral. It's like eating pizza with a knife and fork. Labels give a weird sort of legitimacy to things that are only hot because they're illegitimate. They're useful for detached third-person discourse I guess, but trying to "engage in corporal" when you want to be fucking hit is a miserable thing.

Political Intern.

And part-time indie rocker, hair jet black and spiky, body pale and lean. I met him near his apartment, in a cool part of town, where even on a cold weekday night the streets were packed. We talked over late-night coffee, then walked back to his place and cracked open bottles of beer. We never finished them.

For a moment we just sat on the couch quietly, then I turned toward him and it was all set in motion. A moment later we were kissing, me straddling him and grinding on him, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing the pale chest underneath. He leaned down and bit me hard on the neck, grabbed my hair, and a moment later we were in bed and naked and I was stroking his cock with his hand knuckle-deep in my pussy.

He stood to put on a condom, and I came up behind him, stroking his ass with one hand and his cock with the other, and we went down to our knees on the floor. He pushed me back and fucked me hard. For such a skinny guy he was shockingly strong and he fucked me like he was trying to go through me. It was the way men fuck when they're just about to come, but he didn't, he just kept going. I came and then he did, violently, slamming me against the floor.

We got in bed and lay there just kissing over and over until he was hard again. I kissed my way down his body and sucked his cock, feeling the thickness of it in my mouth, tasting the little aftertaste of his come still on the tip. He grabbed the back of my head, pushed me further down on it, just to the point of gagging.

We rolled over, me laying on my belly on the bed and him on top, and he fucked me again, from behind. He was as forceful as before, almost the edge of what I could take, and lasted even longer. I was moaning, working my hips back against him, and he had a fistfull of my hair and pushed my head down into the mattress.

So, um, I had fun! I think I'm gonna see him again.

The 10 men you meet on Craigslist.

1. Mr. Standalone Dick Shot
"u like wat u see? 8 inches"
[picture of angry purple erection, taken down body, dick clenched in fist and glossy with mysterious fluids, patchy hair scattered on thighs like sagebrush on the side of a desert hill]

2. Mr. Discreet
"I'm married, but she'll be out of the house between 2:30 and 3:00 picking up our kids from karate... you'll have to be precise but I think this'll work out if you come at exactly 2:30 and work fast."

3. Mr. Concise
"hey"

4. Mr. Enormous Prefabricated Story
"...You feel the head of his cock settle at the lips of your pussy. Now tell me you're sorry, he says. You cannot say anything as your breathing is frenzied and your mind is swinging and spinning with what you desire, with what you need. You feel his hand come down hard on your ass, harder than the whipping before and it stings as if a swarm of bees had stung you. I'm sorry, sir, you manage to stammer out, and it is cut off with a moan as his enormous cock slides inside of you fast. It is enough to make you almost come right there. He stops suddenly..."
[like ten pages of this]

5. Mr. There Is a Goddamn Baby In My Picture
"Sorry hun this is the only pic I had. It's my nephew."

6. Mr. Unqualified
"I know you said you were looking for a guy under 35 who could meet today and host, but I'm a really healthy 54 and I'm a little busy right now and we can't use my home but maybe we could do it in the backseat of your car or something sometime next week?"

7. Mr. Suspicious
"I'm sorry but I have been burned before, so could you please prove to me that you are actually a woman? I need some kind of concrete proof that you are not a spambot for a transsexual hooker sting operation before I can carry this discussion any further."

8. Mr. Fucking Scary
"I WANT TO POUND YOUR CUNT ASS WITH MY GIANT HORSE DOG DONG UNTIL YOU SCREAM FOR THE PAIN OF RIPPING SLUT MEMBRANES AND I WILL TEAR YOU APART AND SEND YOU HOME SOBBING AND BLEEDING FROM YOUR HOLE PUSSY ASS CUNT ANUS."

9. Mr. Presumptuous
"I'll be at the Starbucks on Western at 5. I'm a tall guy and I'll be wearing a blue shirt. See you there!"

10. Mr. Suspicious Motives
"I don't remotely meet the qualifications in your ad, but you are gorgeous and I love your ad! Oh well, I guess that's all for now since I don't measure up, I just wanted to let you know how awesome you are and I hope you find what you're looking for.

...If you don't, you could always give me a call."

Cosmocking: November '08!

Lauren Conrad on the cover! Whoever that is! And she's wearing a top that looks sort of like a sports bra and sort of like a corset! A sports corset!

My work partner found this magazine with a bunch of sex tips circled and didn't believe me when I said it was just to make fun of them and he's still giving me shit about it!

Sneaky Signs He's Dating Other Chicks
Before the exclusivity talk, it's tough to tell if a guy is seeing only you.
So? That's the point. If you want exclusivity, you have the exclusivity talk! You don't tell him it's a casual thing and then get offended when he "cheats." Having a secret invisible exclusivity talk with yourself will only lead to broken hearts and dead bunnies.

"My guy is supershy and hates when people take photos of him--he'll duck out of pictures or put his hands in front of his face. It didn't really bother me until I got the idea to make a scrapbook for our one-year anniversary and realized we had hardly any shots of us! I made the book anyway, using the few photos I did have, plus pictures of couples cut out from magazines. When I presented him with the book, he was obviously confused about why I'd included random people, so I explained that his refusal to be photographed meant there was little documentation of our relationship."
Wow, that's... that's really crazy.

Play porn star by bringing a camcorder into bed to bed to view yourselves. But don't record the action--just seeing each other through the lens is a huge turn-on.
It is? I thought that SOP with camcorder sex was a tripod and leaving it on, not wrestling the damn hard blocky camcorder around in the bed with you. That's less "ooh so exhibitionistic" and more "get that thing out of my face, man, I'm trying to get fucked here." Also, I'm generally opposed to this kind of fakeness--if you're going to film yourselves, grow some balls and film it! You can always destroy the tape later, and you won't have to take half a drink next time you play "I Never."

Build momentum by keying into an urban legend that the seventh in a series of ocean waves is the strongest. Lie on your back on a bench and have your man make every seventh thrust his most powerful.
"That was six, honey, you're doing it all wrong, this isn't like the ocean at all! Ugh. Do you just want to stop and watch TV or something?"

In-bed aggression makes sex more exciting, so have him be a little firm with you by pinning you to the bed. Playfully resist by trying to close your legs or sit up. Just don't get too rough, and make sure you have a safe word.
Yes, when engaging in highly edgy perverted kink like light wrist-holding, it's very important to have a safeword. I mean, I don't want to get too harsh on Cosmo here, it's never wrong to have a safeword, but god dammit, stop talking about your uber-vanilla tickle-with-no-slap like it's hardcore kink. It's just a variant on plain ordinary sex, and that's okay, it's actually a really fun one, but stop co-opting the label I earned with blood and bruises.

Show up at his place in a long coat and knee-high boots and nothing underneath.
I get the appeal, but I can't help thinking that would be the one day I get pulled over...

Come to bed wearing nothing but sky-high fetish-style or gladiator heels. Your footwear will give your tryst a kinky S and M vibe.
Cosmo, Cosmo, Cosmo. Let's make a deal. You stop throwing around the phrases "kink", "S and M," and the like until you've been lashed down on a spanking bench while a man slaps your dildo-stuffed ass with tack-studded gloves, and I'll stop calling it "fashion" when my shoes are the same color as my belt. I'm holding up my end of the deal here, Cosmo. Come on now.

In missionary, up the G-spot action by having him rotate his body clockwise, using his arms to support himself, until you're facing opposite directions. From there, grip his waist with his thighs as he thrusts back in you.
I think I need a diagram here. But if this looks the way I'm guessing--he ends up with his head by my feet, still face-down--how in the hell is his cock going to stay in? It sounds incredibly uncomfortable for both of us. Also, wouldn't all the pressure be on the back of my vagina, opposite the G-spot? I suppose I don't know for sure until I try it, but... yeah, I'm not going to try it.

Q: Can a man physically tell when a chick peaks?
A: We definitely pick up the hints. You tense your muscles, you arch your back, you intensify your breathing, and we feel your vagina tighten around our penis as it contracts--signs you can't easily fake.
Actually, you kinda just listed the ways to fake it, and I'm pretty sure I can do all those things. So I guess now I have the tools I need to... oh. Oh. OHHHH. OH YEAH OH GOD FUCK ME FUCKMEFUUUCKKMEEEE AAAHHHHHHH. Mmmm. Ahhh. That was good, baby, really. Honestly. You were great.

The average vagina is 1.3 inches in diameter at its widest; the average erect penis diameter is 1.5 inches. So chances are, your guy in larger than you are. Whew!
How do you measure the diameter of a vagina? Because I never got down there with calipers, but I think my diameter goes from about zero inches at rest to... hangon, lemme get a tape measure... divide by π... about 2.75 inches when properly worked up to it. It's like asking "how open is a mouth?"

I'm guessing they measured the comfortable stretch in an unaroused, unprepared state, for which 1.3 sounds about right, but if "unaroused, unprepared" describes your sex life, you kids need to sit down and have a little talk.

Pick your favorite tree, and have your guy do the same. Then see where your attitudes toward life and love sync up and where they clash.
This was part of an entire page with pictures of trees and text about how if he's an oak he's loyal but if he's a redwood he's stubborn and seriously what the fuck Cosmo.

Finally, from the horoscope:
Thanks to captivating Uranus, men are more attracted to you than ever.

:)

Historian.

Another random fuck today! Sometimes I worry a little that this is a dangerous hobby, and it is, but I think the dangers also get overhyped for "moral" reasons. I certainly haven't had to deal with an STD, pregnancy, or violence yet, and I've been doing this slut thing on and off for years now. I'm religious about condoms, I listen to my gut (untrustworthy, but hell, it's gotta be better than not listening), and I have a lot of naïve trust both in other people and in my luck.

This one was a historian, and sadly, not great in bed. He was just so nervous! I didn't smell girlfriend/wife (although, again, I should probably put less stock in my psychic powers), just that he's not used to having girls pick him up. He kept touching me like he was afraid he'd tear something. Soft teasing touches have their place, but when we get down to business I like to be pawed and squeezed and stretched, and he wouldn't stop being all tentative.

I still feel all good now though. Even when it's not optimal fucking, I still love it. I just feel so warm and happy afterwards. I wonder if I'm an addict? One of my friends told me about someone he knew who quit heroin. He was able to taper off relatively quickly, but he had this constant feeling of wanting something and not even knowing what. I can sympathize with that. I get it after about a week. On the other hand, I also get thirsty when I don't drink, and you wouldn't call me a water addict.

I've copped my fix and I've learned some fascinating things about private companies' role in imperialism in 19th century America.

Celebrity Crush!

FYI: I would lick the sweat from Joel McHale's balls.


Also, Anthony Bourdain! And he probably tastes a lot worse.

Chef.

The last time I had sex it was a one-night stand with a chef with pierced nipples and a charming resemblance to a younger Anthony Bourdain. He fucked me in installments; sixty seconds missionary, sixty seconds doggy, sixty seconds cowgirl, sixty seconds sideways, and by this method managed to last a heroically long time while making me feel very thoroughly fucked. Finally he made me kneel, stood over me, and made me jerk him off all over my face. He moaned louder when he was coming than any guy I've ever heard. (Well, than any guy I've heard coming from his cock. Guys who enjoy getting fucked up the ass make amazing noises.)

Then he bent down and slurped it all up. He licked my face clean and then he licked his lips.

Then, like a true gentleman, he handed me a towel.

My ol' bad habit.

I hung out with Benny and I feel better. We didn't play or fuck, just talked and watched TV all cuddled up. There's probably something wrong about using your (rather obnoxious, although he's gotten a lot more respectful lately; either he's growing up or he actually missed me) fuckbuddy as a teddy bear, but he was cool with it and I do feel better now.

I also made the sad realization that he's now my longest-running sexual relationship of all time. Of course that's mostly due to us not giving a crap about each other, but we have sort of reached the stage where we know each other, you know? "Care" would be too strong a word but we know how to talk to each other and touch each other and that's a little bit comforting. He may be an Axe-wearing affection-spurning douchebag, but at least he's not a stranger.

God I need a real date.

Sigh.

I'm having a lonely. A pretty harsh one actually. I think I need to find myself an actual date.

I've had a bad streak of playing with people who treated it like a professional massage; overcommunicating constantly in sensitive but detached voices while making the play as nonsexual as possible. I certainly respect if someone doesn't want to fuck me, but maybe I've gotta start turning down play in that case, because when I try to do the hitty part without being sexually aroused or emotionally involved, shit just hurts. I want to be mastered and fucked, not just thudded and stinged.

Of course that's a tough, slightly dangerous, and maybe unrealistic thing to be asking of random strangers. But when it works out it's so worth it.

At the moment, anyway, I'm getting this really nasty hollow feeling like I just want to cuddle and kiss a whole lot and have a partner all to myself for a little bit before getting down the mastering and fucking. Again, this is sort of a tall order for the world, but I'm sure I can get it eventually. I'm going to cool off the play parties for a bit and try and go on some actual goddamn dates like a normal person.

Well, not entirely normal.

Guten Tag.

Hallo, die Deutschen! Ich bin sehr sexuell erregt durch Ihre Rasse! Bitte senden Sie mir einige Ihrer köstliche Bier!

Secret Identity.

Unfortunately, at work we're very comfortable talking about our sex lives. No problem if your sex life is basically a binary "I got laid"/"I didn't get laid", but I still feel awkward when I'm asked about mine.

Work friend: "How did that date Thursday night go?"

Real answer: "The guy was kind of a dud although I did like it when he put clothespins all over my breasts and ripped them off. Later in the night, after I'd worked off some nervous energy dancing around topless, I ended up in bed with about eight people lying between a midget and a biker with the midget's naked girlfriend in my lap and a slaveboy rubbing my feet. I didn't technically get laid, but one of my friends who's a puppy player got his paw four fingers deep in me and everyone watched me scream as I came."

Out-loud answer: "Eh, the guy was kind of a dud."

It's like being Batman.

Wuss.

I played with a new top today and sadly I think it was one of the least satisfying experiences since I've been active in the kinky community. It kinda went like this:

Him: Okay, I'm going to start you out with some light warmup.
*ENORMOUS THUNDERING THWOCK*
Me: OW yellow ow ow ow.
Him [crestfallen]: Gee, you're very... sensitive. I mean, not that that's a bad thing, but I wasn't really planning on just sensation play. Hmph. I don't think I brought light enough toys for you.

It's rough feeling sexually inadequate under any circumstances, but when someone ties your adequacy to your ability to be beaten like a carpet and finds you lacking, that really sucks. I'm a masochist; I am not a heavy masochist. I like being slapped and spanked and whipped and pinched; I don't like being royally THWOCKED, and I don't like feeling like having a merely-human pain tolerance makes me a crappy bottom.

The guy wasn't a deliberate jerk, he respected my limits, he was just so transparently disappointed by them that the whole mood of the scene went to Suckland. I left feeling like a wuss and he left feeling like he'd barely gotten to play. If I hadn't gotten into an awesome fun wrestling match with another guy later in the evening, the whole night would've been a downer.

Ah well. They can't all be winners. And in the "men who would like to spank a slutty 22-year-old redhead" sea, there are a fuckload of fish.

The Illusion of Safety.

Don't worry, everything's perfectly safe! I've got one of these!



Not that they're a bad idea, of course, but these things seem to have a talismanic as much as functional value to some people in the BDSM community. When Sir Master RavenLord unpacks his toybag, the very first thing to come out is the shears and they come out with a grand pronouncement that this is now Safe Play. I've seen people haul them out when they weren't even using rope! Are you planning to snip through the quarter-inch leather cuff or the steel chain there, buddy?

This is a little alarmist of me of course, because the truth is that beating restrained people is a fundamentally safe activity that's actually pretty hard to screw up. (That's not really a joke. I'm fairly sure that even among people who have no clue and no education at all, kink-related injuries or deaths are somewhere on the lightning-strike level of likelihood.) It just bothers me that I see these shears brandished as a Totem Of Safety by people who then proceed to hit their sub square on the tailbone, or make them stand with a collar tied to the wall and knees locked, or squeeze their throat shut, or any number of retarded things.

Of course, the trust placed in the Magical Scissors is nothing compared to the other safety blanket of the sex-positive world:



Again, a very very good idea. Again, just not the end of the story. They make being a big ol' slut massively, 90-something percent safer in terms of both disease and pregnancy; they do not provide 100 percent anything. And they don't do diddly for you when you go off alone with someone you don't know. Any more than "meeting in a public place" does; unless you're planning to fuck right there under the espresso machine, someone's ability to seem nice enough for 15 minutes in a coffee shop doesn't really provide a guarantee of honesty and safety.

What to do? I wouldn't stop beating or fucking just because they're unsafe; I think that even with goofy misconceptions about safety I'm more likely to get killed driving to a freaky sexual rendezvous than during it. Driving is a good metaphor, really; it's dangerous, you know it, and you do it anyway. But you don't put on a seatbelt and then go weaving willy-nilly down the road with random stomps on the pedals; you're continuously aware of and active in your safety, rather than relying on a few passive devices to do all the work.

Driving is worth it, climbing mountains is worth it, diving with sharks is worth it. Life is dangerous, and that's okay. Despite what they seem to be telling kids these days, calculated, manageable risk is no reason to stay at home with a Nerf helmet on. Just realize that there is a risk, and don't bullshit yourself or your partners about it.

:(

I am, in a sort of amicable and inevitable way, single again. Sigh. It's (I hope) not a "fuck you, you crazy bitch" thing half so much as a "we're too far apart and this was an intense but short thing which is clearly burning itself out" thing.

It's one breakup where I really hope the "we can still be friends" part isn't bullshit, though. Tommy's too damn cool a guy to just disappear entirely.

The "welp, that was bound to happen, kind of a relief in a way, let's get to meeting dudes in my own time zone" part of my brain is having one hell of a battle with the "DAMMIT DAMMIT, wail to the heavens and eat cookie dough" part of my brain.



(DUDES WHO LIVE IN THE GENERAL SEATTLE AREA: THIS IS TOTALLY YOUR SHOT. PERVOCRACY@GMAIL.COM DUDES.)

Woof.

I was playing with a puppy last night. By "puppy," I mean "grown ass man down on all fours going 'ruff' and begging for ear scritches", and by "playing" I quite literally mean playing. He was fetching balls (no, literally) and getting bellyrubs (still entirely literal dammit) from me and a couple other thoroughly amused humans. And he was having an awesome fucking time.

To be honest I can't really see that sort of thing as sexual. Not that he was sexualizing it, at least overtly; ironically, he was wearing a lot more clothing than most humans in the room. I don't know whether puppy-play frequently culminates with going off with someone and humping their leg (or whatever), but this wasn't "oh baby woof at me again OHHH," it was more like... playing with a dog. Fun, cute, not panty-dampening but definitely smile-making. Puppy dude was really kind of awesome.


I'm still not a furry.

Sexpert!

Welp, I shot the bit. It's for a piece about craigslist's beautifully skanky Casual Encounters page and I told stories about meeting guys on there and doing skanky things with them. I'm always glad to put an ordinary-looking, intelligent, unpaid female face to skankery. I feel like our culture is laboring under the perception that random sex is the purview of dumb sluts, emotionally damaged women, drunk women, paid women (either directly or by sugar-daddying), and of course men. And I'm only too willing to make the sacrifices necessary to act as counterexample.

(Actually, I'm never quite 100% sure about the whole emotional damage thing but shhh that would ruin my point okay shhh. At any rate it's at least subtle; I'm certainly not some abused waif or bunny-boiling predator.)

Frequently, I feel like we have a cultural idea that men fuck because they like fucking and women fuck for any other reason in the world. Fuck him cause he's rich, fuck him cause you love him, fuck him cause you're lonely, fuck him cause he's earned it, fuck him cause you owe him, fuck him cause he's your boyfriend, fuck him cause he convinced you to, fuck him cause you're just screwed up inside... but for God's sake don't fuck him cause you're horny.


One of my coworkers was talking about his no-fail seduction technique when a girl says she just wants to sleep on the couch: "Hey, just in case you change your mind, I make a great teddy bear."
My friend was shaking his head. "Any girl who goes for that has got to be retarded."
"Or they just decided they wanted to do him."
"Man, any girl who falls for that deserves to get screwed by Teddy Bear."
"Well, maybe that's the point."

I can't be the only woman in the world who doesn't need a reason to have sex. Just a place.

HUMP!

Every year, Seattle's awesome alternative weekly The Stranger hosts a porn/sexually-oriented-filmmaking-of-some-sort festival called HUMP!

I'm going to be in an entry for this one! I won't be doing the nakey on film, sadly, just acting as a talking head in a documentary, but hey. That's the perfect compromise, right? No theoretically-life-destroying porn taint, but the opportunity to appear in the sexual media nonetheless.

I'm pretty sure that once you talk about sex in a documentary, you officially become a "sexpert."

Casual Encounters.

What is it with firefighters and craigslist? I mean, I know they're manhos and have as much right to be as any profession short of NASA test pilot, but dizamn. Maybe the IAFF has an autoposting system that spams "turnout pants, big red suspenders, no shirt" photos of all members on an hourly basis. Or something.

This cracked me up.

"Hey! You two! No horseplay out here!"
"Oh no, she's a human all the time."

When I grow up...

You know, I don't want to become a cougar when I get older. I just want to be really, really into dudes my own age.

Cosmocking: October '08.

Kate Hudson on the cover! In what appears to be a plaid corset and black corduroy pants. Fashion? Fashion.

ScientificMatch.com, a new website, uses a saliva sample to hook you up with potential mates based on your histocompatibility complex, genes that play a role in chemical attraction.

And for only $2000! I'd be awfully wary of the possibility that they chuck your damn saliva sample in the trash and get out the two thousand dollar dartboard.

Your boy is well aware of the fact that you're perfectly capable of doing anything he can--except, perhaps, recite every line from Old School. But there are certain situations in which he wants to be the man. So when these circumstances arise, hint that you'd like him to step in, then sit back and reap the benefits (including his everlasting, if silent, appreciation).

You know how the best don't advertise and real tough guys don't pick fights? Real men don't need to go around proving it. If he enjoys it when I pretend I'm incompetent on his behalf, I'd say he's being a whole lot more of a boy. Also, "if silent"?

Q: How can I prevent showing my butt crack when I sit down?

A: Wear clothes that fit.

(Cosmo answers that you should buy these weird-ass $40 fake-cami-bottoms. Huh. I don't know why I'd buy the bottom quarter of a cami for more than a whole one would cost, but that's why I'm not a Fashion Expert.)

"It's a buzz-kill when a girl offers me a condom from her stash of open boxes in the drawer next to her bed. Yeah, it's reassuring that she's into safe sex, but she's also telling me that she's been with a rubber-box's-worth of dudes. I'd rather just not know.

Well, what the hell would you like her to do? As with the "let him be the man" article, this is all about pretenses; of course it would be sexist and unreasonable to ask women to actually be helpless virgins, but they'd damn well better act like they are. I can understand how a huuuge pile of sex supplies might startle a straightlaced dude, but this guy seems like he doesn't really want women to have condoms at all. That's... unfortunate.

Internal Tip-Off
The brain actually registers a change when words and gestures contradict each other.

I just like this sentence for the "actually." "When you put your hand on a surface, your nerves actually sense it!"

But sometimes you anger your man without even knowing it. For instance, did you let some dude buy you a drink at a bar--because hey, free drink!--while your guy was off talking to other friends?

Oh come on. "Without even knowing it"? "Because hey, free drink"? Everyone freakin' knows that is not okay.

3 Bogus Excuses [for men not wanting sex]
1. "I have a big day at work tomorrow and I need rest."
Climaxing actually clears his head and can help him sleep--meaning it allows him not to think about sex as much so he can focus on his work.

Amazing. The magazine is actually begging.

2. "Let's wait till this weekend when we have more time."
Few guys ration sex activity, and even fewer would turn down a quickie. So if he feigns concern for your sake, he might be being dishonest.

That's right girls, guys always want sex, aren't concerned about you, and will never turn it down. If it seems like he's breaking the mold, something is wrong and he's a dirty liar.

3. "Sorry, honey--my head is killing me."
An upset stomach? Yes. But unless your guy suffers from debilitating migraines, it's probably what it sounds like: a clichéd opt out.

So apparently a plain old tension headache is perfectly pleasant and comfortable to fuck with? News to me. But of course, men always want sex! Literally! They'd walk away from a Nobel Prize ceremony to stick their dick in a microwaved quiche! And if they don't, it's only because they're cheating on the quiche.

[Q: My boyfriend spends too much time with his friends and I hate this because he's supposed to be mine mine mine!]
A: Just to clarify--are some of these "friends" other chicks? Because I can understand his wanting to have solo bro time to bro out with his bros; that's perfectly healthy. But if there are other women involved in this second life, my douche alarm starts going off.

Bro, chicks can be bros, because it's not like just because a dick's in the same room as a pussy that something's gotta happen, you know what I'm saying, bro?

I've known girls who ordered their boyfriends not to be friends with any other women. My friends and I (i.e., former friends of these men, now banished because clearly we're all mindless hussies who would leap on his cock and cannot be reasoned with) have a phrase for this: bitch crazy.

Holding my tongue.

It's always awkward when I'm with "normal" people--work, family, some of my more uptight friends--and the subject of weird sexualities comes up. On one hand, I'm usually very well-informed on the subject, and eager to share information and correct misconceptions. On the other hand, it's awfully ill-advised (and sort of obnoxious) to come busting out with "well, in my experience with erotic infantilization, it's actually a very loving experience." Even without the direct overshare, helpful factoids like "That's called a Whartenberg wheel and it produces this interesting sensation like being cut without actually breaking the skin" still seem like bad ideas.

Sometimes it's frustrating. Yesterday at work we were listening to someone talk on the radio about swinging, and my partner was all "oh my gosh, how could someone do such a thing, I couldn't live with myself, what about the children," and I wanted so badly to bust in with some sort of chirpy politically-correct sex-positive pep talk about polyamory and open relationships and ethical slutdom, and I didn't.

I thought about J.L. J.L was in a class I took on emergency medicine, and J.L. was not in the closet about his kink. He showed up to class wearing a triskelion and proudly explained its significance to all and sundry whether they had asked or not. He drew fox-people in bondage in class. One day he came in wearing rubber wrist cuffs and sat in class idly clipping them together. J.L.'s ultimate low point came when he said he wanted to have backboarding (like so, done to immobilize spinal injuries) practiced on him because he was so into bondage. Jesus. If the whole class wanted to know what makes your dick hard, dude, we woulda bought you dinner first.

I would rather experience a little frustration and let a few misconceptions pass than turn into J.L.

Ropin' and Ridin'.

No, no, just ropin'. Mostly. I went to a bondage class this weekend and it was officially the funnest thing since sliced fun. I love it when kinky shit is fun. When the sound in the seedy scary pervy dungeon isn't moans but giggles. Sometimes I feel like this is the single hardest thing to communicate about BDSM to outsiders: that it can be silly. Not always, sure, it can be dark and scary or intense and sweaty, but often play is just that.

(It's probably a little more so in public play, but I've also done some goofy-ass scenes in private. I believe I was once made to yodel while being caned.)

I know that hitty enthusiasts aren't exactly high on the oppressed-minority priority list, but it does sort of shock me the way it's portrayed in the media. I caught the tail end of a CSI the other night where a dominant had killed his submissive during a scene--it alternated between a ridiculously horror-movie-looking flashback of her in a full goddamn rubber suit with hoses coming out of the mouth (don't know about you, but I own three of those!) and the police interviewer berating the killer with "you bastard, she was nothing to you, she was a thing for you to destroy."

At best it's glamorously taboo, at worst it's psychopathic, but the one thing I've never seen BDSM portrayed as is ordinary. If anyone could point me to a TV show or movie or anything where a bondage dungeon contains people in t-shirts or regular cotton underwear and there are people off to the side just chatting and at least some of the scenes are playful--I will fly out to you, wherever you are, and kiss you on the lips. I realize that ordinary chubby folks in jeans having a good time don't make scandalous entertainment, but still... dang.

Anyway. Before I slide too far into "liking spankings is like being a black gay homeless immigrant!" territory, I should mention something cool: I topped! For the first time in many, many months. It was... honestly, I'm not sure how much of a turnon it was, it didn't get to me viscerally like receiving pain and domination does, but it was interesting and enjoyable. I put clothespins all over a cute boy's tender places and tugged on them and twisted them and he grinned like a maniac the whole time.

He was nothing to me. A thing for me to destroy. Obviously.

He's probably a fucking furry.

Randall Munroe has, as always, a good point.

Abstinence.

Since politicians' personal lives are always far more interesting than their policies and values, Sarah Palin's daughter's pregnancy is Big News. Which makes sense as it was undoubtedly Palin's personal decision to get her daughter pregnant, right? Anyway, this whole thing has segued into a discussion of abstinence-only sex education.

The thing that amazes me about abstinence is not just that I would've been expected to be abstinent as a kid (which, in retrospect, might not have been the worst thing, although it didn't destroy me either), but that the expectation would be continued into now. I'm twenty-two, and you can't argue with a straight face that my tender immaturity makes me unprepared for all the big scary adult responsibilities of sex. (Well, you probably could if you knew me, but anyway.) And yet, since I'm not married, I'd ideally be a contraception-ignorant virgin now. This isn't just an issue of kids having sex. This is an issue of how people who are going to be adults are educated.

Or, if I weren't a virgin, maybe I would've married the first guy I wanted to have sex with. Dear God. Whatever emotional damage I might've theoretically sustained from fucking the wrong guy too young and with too many delusions of Eternal Wuv, it sure as hell wasn't as bad as if I'd married him.

Here's a pretty typical debate on the subject and the inspiration for this post. I'm amazed by the people saying things like "teaching contraception doesn't stop unwanted pregnancies" or "Imagine going into a classroom, and instead of assuming they're all a bunch of animals who can't control their urges and pushing condom use, you tell them sex is special."

Hmm. Sex is special. That's why you shouldn't have any for years! Too special for you! Only people who are in real magical special love get to have sex! And teenage couples are always very realistic about knowing they don't have that!

We are animals. We're animals who can control our urges, but not when we see no good reason not to. And in this case, well, there is no very good reason. Nothing about marriage makes "heartache, std's, unplanned pregnancy, etc." impossible and nothing about safe, respectful unmarried sex is wrong. Let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.

Choosy gentleman, ain't he?

This link was on Something Awful and it's priceless:

Man For Young Girl To Become My Wife

Polly wanna OH GOD YES IT'S SO BIG DADDY?

My roommate has a pet African Grey Parrot that replicates sounds in its environment with stunning fidelity. In addition to the usual "pretty bird" and whatnot, it also sneezes, rings like the phone, barks like the dog, and gurgles like the tap.

I can never, ever have sex within this bird's hearing.

Feeding trolls is fun!

They're baaaack.

Dear God, I should never have used the word "feminist." All it's brought me is grief and the attentions of people who are apparently very much morally superior to me. Y'see, when I started using that word, I thought it meant that I favored equality of the genders and opposed set gender roles. But no, apparently it's a very exclusive category that only applies to people who are pure of word and spirit and deed--and who, as befits saints, suffer for their purity.

Perhaps you should stop seeing sex as your path to worthiness - then you wouldn't feel so awful when that option is unavailable.
Feminism should surely provide you with some basic ideas about this.

1) Oh, it's that beloved old sexist canard--men have sex to get their rocks off, but vaginas have no nerves so women will only have sex for an ulterior motive. I don't get frustrated because I'm a horny motherfucker, but because I'm a sad little girl desperate for approval. Christ, man, this isn't my whole life, I have an education and a job and I've saved human lives, I have a few more ways to feel good about myself, it's just that none of the other ones will give me an orgasm.

2) And yet. You know what? Sex does make me feel better about myself. It's not the only way, but yeah, being sexually desired does raise my self-esteem. I don't understand why this is a bad thing. If my whole ego rested on it, it would be, but having your entire self-image based on any one thing is destructive. Liking yourself more when you get laid and less when you can't is human.

So. You've never been groped by someone you didn't want to touch you? You've never been taken advantage of at a party whilst you've been drunk? You've never been told that you can't read a map, play a computer game, drive a car, argue rationally, do maths or tell jokes? You've never wondered why all your favourite bands have male guitarists, and all the gigs that you go to are full of men? You've never wondered why all women on adverts are overtly sexual, whilst the men are just... men? You've never wondered why it is ok for men to talk about wanking in public as a joke, but if you bring up your body it immediately becomes something to make sexual comments about?

I cannot be bothered to go on. To conclude - why even bother to call yourself a feminist, if you can't even see why feminism is needed?

1) Well, to a lot of these things, no. I've never been more than fleetingly groped against my will, I've certainly never been drunkenly raped, and although I'm sure it's happened, I don't get my map/game/car/etc. competence challenged on a regular basis. Do I get treated with perfect equanimity by everyone? No. But I don't live in a jeering Rapeland either. And I believe the same is true for most women--we face challenges, but we aren't in Gender Hell, and it's dishonest and obnoxious to talk like we are.

2) I never said we were living in a Gender Utopia. Yeah, our society is sexist. I never denied it. I just said it was somewhere in the middle, man! That neither victimhood nor complacency is warranted! There aren't enough grrrl guitarists! You're absolutely right! But stop tearing my ass like I said otherwise, coz I didn't.

3) Uh, I'm pretty sure men (over the age of sixteen, at least?) don't get much more respect for talking about masturbation in public than women do. I can't really remember the last time I saw a guy on the street yelling "I LOVE JERKING OFF!" and passerbys heartily congratulating him--in a nonsexualizing manner!--for it.

Transference.

The other night I went out to a party (you know, a party) with my friend J. I was hoping to get him laid, but J is a rather shy and awkward man and a big hulking galoot to boot, so he just chatted and watched. I stayed with him like a good faithful friend for several whole entire minutes, then got swept up in conversation with a new guy and we ran off and fooled around. Not quite sex fooled around, but fun times.

So I came back out, all flushed and mussed, and hopelessly cheerful, met back up with J, and I suddenly started getting really friendly with him. Not sex or even fool-around friendly, but unwarrantedly affectionate. I was touching him way more than I touch a friend, hugging him, ruffling his hair, trading backrubs. I felt like I'd fooled around with him. It was strange, a very chemical feeling.

I really do get high on sex.

(And I worry a little that all this was kind of cruel to J, but I made it very clear to him at the outset that I didn't bring him there to fuck him, so... ah well. I shouldn't be so damn sure he would've wanted my pity sex anyway.)

Using my grown-up words.

Rrrgh. I'm having angst, and I've been trying to write a post, but I couldn't quite articulate myself. The problem was, basically, that I'm having trouble articulating myself. I pride myself--or used to--on being disgustingly frank in sexual matters, but the last couple weeks I've been an "I want you to um my um... no I don't! Wait, yes I do! Wait, no!" girl. Which is terrible.

I think it's an unfortunate side effect of really liking Tommy. With Benny, or random strangers, I could easily voice my desires to cheat and be beat, because I didn't give a crap what they thought--with Alan, I didn't need to voice them because he didn't want to hear about it. But liking the same guy that I'm practicing wacky sexuality with requires that I talk about sex to someone whose opinion I care about. And that's scary. It makes me terrified of his disapproval. Not that he's a disapproving guy. I just get afraid to say things like "I'm gonna go pick up some random dude to fuck" or "I'm not comfortable playing this way, here's how I'd like it"--not because he'd get angry, but because he wouldn't be happy.

The stupid catch-22 is that these things have a chance of making him unhappy, but horrible communication will definitely do that.

At least I've figured out what's going on. Knowing why I'm having an attack of the mealymouths, and how fundamentally pointless it is, will hopefully help me get over it. Tommy's a pervert, dammit! He likes to slap me around and he wants us to fuck around on each other! The things I can't talk about are things we've already freakin' agreed on! This shit is like being embarrassed to tell a butcher that you want meat!

Resolved: to just not be embarrassed. Shame leads to dishonesty and it's not worth it. Um my um? I want you to fuck my ass. And I want some other dudes to do it too. And it'll be awesome.