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.

TMI... uh, Wednesday.

My Internet's being very on and off, but while it's on, some silly meme-questions stolen from figleaf...

1. Are you truly politically correct? Be honest.

Not really. I try to be a good person, in the ways that count, and I try to be at least sort of aware of the political implications of my words and actions, but... I also like to be sarcastic and use mean words, and although I don't want to be a total jerk I also don't believe in a right to not be offended.

2. Will you ever streak in public during rush hour?

Will, or have? I've run the Naked Mile, buddy. That was a group event though; I'm not sure if I have the nerve for solo-streakery. I probably do though. I hope so.

3. Would you ever do something sexual in public (more than 20 people around)?

Would, or have? I've literally had sex up on a stage in front of people. I'm, um, not shy. (Actually, I kind of am shy. But not about my body.)

4. Do you ever not have good table manners?

I know how to have good table manners, but a depressing number of my meals are eaten off a dashboard or my lap; when I'm at a table I have manners, at least.

5. Do you ever fantasize about a public sexual act? Describe.

I always wanted to sit out in the park with a guy on a warm sunny day, me in a skirt with no panties and him in pants that unzip. And I'd sit in his lap and wiggle and grind and there would be people around us who wouldn't even know what as going on.

In a bind.

On the one hand, it's nice to have a boyfriend who reads the Pervocracy, because it means I'm not keeping a secret from him. On the other hand... it makes it sort of hard to write frankly about the things we do together. I can't very well give a detailed description of his sexual performance in front of him, can I? Even though I'm entirely pleased with it. Just don't feel right to share that amusing analogy I always use for his penis.

I will say, though, that one of the things I really really like about sex with Tommy is that he wants to hit me. It boggles my mind, in a good way, that he gets turned on by exactly the thing that turns me on. That shouldn't feel so novel, but it does. He's not hitting me as a favor while he taps his foot and waits for me to be ready to fuck. He seriously gets off on it. That's so cool.

Also, I really, seriously, not-just-a-favor get off on sucking his cock. That's pretty damn cool too.