Sunday, September 28, 2008

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.

Friday, September 26, 2008


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.



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.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


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.

Monday, September 22, 2008


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."

Sunday, September 21, 2008

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.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

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.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Cosmocking: October '08.

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

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

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.

Monday, September 8, 2008

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.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


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.