I took down an excessively grouchy post. Sometimes I fall into the trap of going "ugh, men" when what I really mean is "ugh, assholes." Since I'm a straight woman, most of the assholes I deal with in the sex and dating arenas are men, but there are plenty of nonassholish men and assholish women out there, and I don't want to imply otherwise. I don't want to be an assholish woman myself.
---
Elsie has written yet another story based loosely on my sexual fantasies. Which is very weird for me, but very cool.
---
To a weird degree, I find that serving others' kinks is, for me, a kink in itself. The archetypal example is foot fetishism. It does, really, nothing for me. Feets is feets, and might as well be elbows or nostrils for all I care. But when a guy is into feet--that does something for me. The nothing-in-particular I feel having my toes sucked turns into an oh holy God YES when I see what it does to him. I don't want my toes sucked, but I want my toes sucked by a foot fetishist.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Milestone.
Last night marked the first time a stranger actually tried the "you're a submissive, right, so I order you to suck my cock" gambit on me.
It didn't go so well for him.
It didn't go so well for him.
Monday, August 2, 2010
I don't want cock.
I got a random message on OkCupid today, and checking it meant my status got reset to "Online Today," and that meant that I got clusterfucked with messages from dudes. (I'm hot. Oh yeah.) Which led to making one date (Wednesday, and it's more of a "let's be friends" thing, but hey, I like friends) and ignoring about fifty guys in disgust.
Why? Because they wanted to fuck me, and nothing else. They were, to be fair, very clear about this. On some level I appreciate that. But on another level I can't help but be insulted by guys offering their cocks but specifying with a sort of terrified urgency that this doesn't mean they would date me or anything.
It made me realize that, at this point in my life, I don't want cock. Whaaa? That is, I don't want just cock. The offer of vanilla sex without strings means nothing to me. Not to call a thousand MRAs down on my ass, but I can get laid. (That's Thursday night.) If "laid" comes with absolutely no other benefits--BDSM play or a relationship that's at least friendly--it's really not interesting to me.
I also have issues with any guy who's too vociferous on the "but I wouldn't date you, are you crazy?" I'm not opposed to friends-with-benefits arrangements, but that means friends with benefits, not frosty strangers with exactly one benefit. I also like my friends-with-benefits to find a way to negotiate the arrangement without practically spelling out that I'm not good enough to date but this is my exciting consolation prize.
I have an OkCupid account to meet people. I've got two penises in my bedside drawer already, and I guarantee you at least one of them is bigger than yours.
Why? Because they wanted to fuck me, and nothing else. They were, to be fair, very clear about this. On some level I appreciate that. But on another level I can't help but be insulted by guys offering their cocks but specifying with a sort of terrified urgency that this doesn't mean they would date me or anything.
It made me realize that, at this point in my life, I don't want cock. Whaaa? That is, I don't want just cock. The offer of vanilla sex without strings means nothing to me. Not to call a thousand MRAs down on my ass, but I can get laid. (That's Thursday night.) If "laid" comes with absolutely no other benefits--BDSM play or a relationship that's at least friendly--it's really not interesting to me.
I also have issues with any guy who's too vociferous on the "but I wouldn't date you, are you crazy?" I'm not opposed to friends-with-benefits arrangements, but that means friends with benefits, not frosty strangers with exactly one benefit. I also like my friends-with-benefits to find a way to negotiate the arrangement without practically spelling out that I'm not good enough to date but this is my exciting consolation prize.
I have an OkCupid account to meet people. I've got two penises in my bedside drawer already, and I guarantee you at least one of them is bigger than yours.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A brief glossary of PUA terminology.
For future reference and current amusement.
PUA: Pick-Up Artist. A man who believes that fucking and (to a lesser extent) forming relationships with women is a matter of outsmarting and manipulating the women in very specific ways. The basic premise is that your behavior affects whether you get laid, which is obviously true--but the behaviors they recommend adopting, and the mental framework they use to justify these behaviors, range from absurd to horrifying. PUA also refers to the activity of Pick-Up Artistry, also called "Game" or "sarging."
1-10 scale: This is how women are rated. Despite the fact that it's called a "scale," it consists almost entirely of 1-3, which are hilariously monstrous, and 7-9, which are hottie supermodel beach babes like in Daddy's secret magazines. This scale is absolutely objective and entirely physical, and to suggest otherwise would be laughably Beta. (10 is customarily not awarded, as to do so would imply that you had lost your manly objectivity and discernment.) A woman in the upper range may also be an "HB"--"Hot Babe"--or ranked as HB8, HB9 etcetera.
Alpha/Beta: This is how men are rated. Betas represent 80% of all men and cannot get laid ever. Weirdly, this is generally held against women even by purported Alphas, as if it's really unfair and cruel of women to be more attracted to men who are more attractive. A man's Alpha/Beta status is almost entirely determined by his behavior--an Alpha is high in "status" and a demanding, demeaning asshole. A Beta may also be known as an "AFC": "Average Frustrated Chump," the specific implication being that the average non-PUA man on the street has never even heard a description of a vagina. Or a Beta may be a "Nice Guy," because being good and kind to humans is like being allergic to pussy.
(Note that the idea that "no Alpha would want anything less than a 7" and the idea "all the women are sleeping with Alphas" coexist quite comfortably.)
Approach: The only way to meet a woman is to come up to a complete stranger at a bar with a prefab opening line. This is the only way. It is within the bounds of possibility that you'd be at a club or maybe even a house party, but that's as far as it goes.
Close: This is how you win the game. Ideally it means you have sex, but getting a phone number or a kiss are also "closes" of some sort. There's even a "name close" for the truly desperate. I'm Holly, you win, congratulations, now go home.
Friend Zone: If closing is a man's goal in the game, friendzoning is the woman's goal. Women do not want, initially, to date or fuck men--they want to be "friends" which means that they will assert their dominance by continually not fucking you. Not-fucking a man is the cruelest thing a woman can do without using a chainsaw, and for that reason women love to do it. Rumors that friends engage in any activities or relationship dynamics other than not-fucking are completely worthless propaganda spread by feminazis.
Neg: This is probably the most famous PUA technique. You tell a stuck-up hot bitch that she ain't all that, so she'll fuck you to prove that she is all that. There are many related techniques that have their own stupid names, but all basically come down to withholding your affection so that the woman will jump all over you to get some of it.
Is this unkind or manipulative, or does it deliberately select for women with terrible self-esteem and the intelligence of a damp rock? Yes. Yes it is and it does. But hey, denying men sex, that's what's really unkind here. All this shit wouldn't be necessary if women would just be reasonable and have sex with literally every and any guy who asked. Or who didn't ask but wanted to.
Cocky and Funny: This is the attitude a PUA is supposed to project, and for once I don't have anything really bad to say about it, because I do like guys who are cocky and funny. Although when attempted by guys who have absolutely no internal confidence or sense of humor, it often turns into "Arrogant and Cheesy."
Kino: To touch a woman you're picking up in a totally natural and subtle and not creepy at all way. For example, you could just naturally happen to run your hand through her hair or rest your hand on her leg, the way normal people always do during normal conversation.
DHV: Demonstration of Higher Value. Talking about how super special and important you are and how in-demand your cock is. And if that works, you might as well tell her that "gullible" is written on your dick and see where that leads.
IOI: Indication Of Interest. (Also "DOI" for "Demonstration" or SOI for "Signs" or whatever.) This is how a woman shows you she's interested: by making eye contact, smiling, laughing at your jokes, talking to you, or acknowledging your existence in any way. Latch onto any IOI like a lamprey and refuse to be shaken off until you've sucked all her fish guts out.
Shit Test: When a woman insults you or tells you "no," she is testing how you'll react. It never ever means she actually doesn't like you. The way to pass the shit test is to sarge right ahead and show her that her little tricks don't fool you, you know she wants you.
If a woman asks you for any kind of favor, this is also a shit test--if you do anything for her, she'll see you as submissive and never fuck you. Therefore, if a woman says "could you watch my bag?" or "could you get me a drink while you're up?", the only correct answer is "HAHA NO WAY BITCH I'M ON TO YOUR LITTLE GAME." She'll love it.
Bitch Shield: Basically the same thing as the first type of shit test, this is where a woman acts deliberately unfriendly to get rid of you. As with shit tests, this just means you need to try even harder. Women don't get to just say no to your attention like they're in control of the whole world or something.
Anti-Slut Defense: One possible reason a woman might say "no" to you, other than game-playing or sheer insanity, is that she doesn't want to seem like a slut. Yeah, that must be why she doesn't want to fuck you, that's the only explanation that makes sense.
Peacocking: Wearing fucking ridiculous clothing.
PUA: Pick-Up Artist. A man who believes that fucking and (to a lesser extent) forming relationships with women is a matter of outsmarting and manipulating the women in very specific ways. The basic premise is that your behavior affects whether you get laid, which is obviously true--but the behaviors they recommend adopting, and the mental framework they use to justify these behaviors, range from absurd to horrifying. PUA also refers to the activity of Pick-Up Artistry, also called "Game" or "sarging."
1-10 scale: This is how women are rated. Despite the fact that it's called a "scale," it consists almost entirely of 1-3, which are hilariously monstrous, and 7-9, which are hottie supermodel beach babes like in Daddy's secret magazines. This scale is absolutely objective and entirely physical, and to suggest otherwise would be laughably Beta. (10 is customarily not awarded, as to do so would imply that you had lost your manly objectivity and discernment.) A woman in the upper range may also be an "HB"--"Hot Babe"--or ranked as HB8, HB9 etcetera.
Alpha/Beta: This is how men are rated. Betas represent 80% of all men and cannot get laid ever. Weirdly, this is generally held against women even by purported Alphas, as if it's really unfair and cruel of women to be more attracted to men who are more attractive. A man's Alpha/Beta status is almost entirely determined by his behavior--an Alpha is high in "status" and a demanding, demeaning asshole. A Beta may also be known as an "AFC": "Average Frustrated Chump," the specific implication being that the average non-PUA man on the street has never even heard a description of a vagina. Or a Beta may be a "Nice Guy," because being good and kind to humans is like being allergic to pussy.
(Note that the idea that "no Alpha would want anything less than a 7" and the idea "all the women are sleeping with Alphas" coexist quite comfortably.)
Approach: The only way to meet a woman is to come up to a complete stranger at a bar with a prefab opening line. This is the only way. It is within the bounds of possibility that you'd be at a club or maybe even a house party, but that's as far as it goes.
Close: This is how you win the game. Ideally it means you have sex, but getting a phone number or a kiss are also "closes" of some sort. There's even a "name close" for the truly desperate. I'm Holly, you win, congratulations, now go home.
Friend Zone: If closing is a man's goal in the game, friendzoning is the woman's goal. Women do not want, initially, to date or fuck men--they want to be "friends" which means that they will assert their dominance by continually not fucking you. Not-fucking a man is the cruelest thing a woman can do without using a chainsaw, and for that reason women love to do it. Rumors that friends engage in any activities or relationship dynamics other than not-fucking are completely worthless propaganda spread by feminazis.
Neg: This is probably the most famous PUA technique. You tell a stuck-up hot bitch that she ain't all that, so she'll fuck you to prove that she is all that. There are many related techniques that have their own stupid names, but all basically come down to withholding your affection so that the woman will jump all over you to get some of it.
Is this unkind or manipulative, or does it deliberately select for women with terrible self-esteem and the intelligence of a damp rock? Yes. Yes it is and it does. But hey, denying men sex, that's what's really unkind here. All this shit wouldn't be necessary if women would just be reasonable and have sex with literally every and any guy who asked. Or who didn't ask but wanted to.
Cocky and Funny: This is the attitude a PUA is supposed to project, and for once I don't have anything really bad to say about it, because I do like guys who are cocky and funny. Although when attempted by guys who have absolutely no internal confidence or sense of humor, it often turns into "Arrogant and Cheesy."
Kino: To touch a woman you're picking up in a totally natural and subtle and not creepy at all way. For example, you could just naturally happen to run your hand through her hair or rest your hand on her leg, the way normal people always do during normal conversation.
DHV: Demonstration of Higher Value. Talking about how super special and important you are and how in-demand your cock is. And if that works, you might as well tell her that "gullible" is written on your dick and see where that leads.
IOI: Indication Of Interest. (Also "DOI" for "Demonstration" or SOI for "Signs" or whatever.) This is how a woman shows you she's interested: by making eye contact, smiling, laughing at your jokes, talking to you, or acknowledging your existence in any way. Latch onto any IOI like a lamprey and refuse to be shaken off until you've sucked all her fish guts out.
Shit Test: When a woman insults you or tells you "no," she is testing how you'll react. It never ever means she actually doesn't like you. The way to pass the shit test is to sarge right ahead and show her that her little tricks don't fool you, you know she wants you.
If a woman asks you for any kind of favor, this is also a shit test--if you do anything for her, she'll see you as submissive and never fuck you. Therefore, if a woman says "could you watch my bag?" or "could you get me a drink while you're up?", the only correct answer is "HAHA NO WAY BITCH I'M ON TO YOUR LITTLE GAME." She'll love it.
Bitch Shield: Basically the same thing as the first type of shit test, this is where a woman acts deliberately unfriendly to get rid of you. As with shit tests, this just means you need to try even harder. Women don't get to just say no to your attention like they're in control of the whole world or something.
Anti-Slut Defense: One possible reason a woman might say "no" to you, other than game-playing or sheer insanity, is that she doesn't want to seem like a slut. Yeah, that must be why she doesn't want to fuck you, that's the only explanation that makes sense.
Peacocking: Wearing fucking ridiculous clothing.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Handjob World, or why it matters that women like sex.
One of the original tenets of this blog was simply that women like sex. (Or that I do, which has been amply proven.) But this statement isn't merely of prurient interest, isn't just a chance for me to go "whoo boys I'm the fun kind of feminist." It matters. One of the things I briefly touched on at Dating While Feminist is why it matters.
Imagine a world where women really didn't get anything out of sex: let's say a world where there was no sex act other than the handjob. It's mildly unpleasant, a lot of work, and you don't really feel anything physically. If you're really into a guy psychologically, if you're in lust or love, you can get kinda excited that he's excited, but only kinda. If you're submissive, you might get into it as an act of pure service. And if you're none of the above, you're going to have to be paid, tricked, or coerced into getting jizz all up in your manicure for no good reason.
Sex, in other words, would have to be a transaction. You'd have to get something, real or emotional, for it; being told "the way your hand feels is your reward!" would be a slap in the face. And even in relationships where initially lust or love was enough, eventually the thrill of that would cool and your handjobs would get kind of bored and perfunctory--yeah, you understand he enjoys it, and nothing against him, it's just, you know, rough on the wrists and you wish you could have the TV on or something.
Do these attitudes, the ones that would develop in Handjob World, seem eerily familiar?
But sex isn't just handjobs. Sex is a beautiful array of actions that feel fucking fantastic to both sides. Female orgasms don't just exist; they're earth-shaking, reality-changing, mind-shattering. Hell, even apart from the orgasms, getting fucked is just awesome. Boom de yada.
It's true that orgasms usually aren't enough. Sex comes with risks and can be a bit draining, and although some people do have purely orgasm-based sexual relationships, even I can't really sustain that. But sexual pleasure, like every other part of a relationship, is mutual. She's giving him sex and he's giving her sex; it breaks even, so no one owes anyone anything for that.
This isn't just about dinner whoring, although that's the archetypal example. (Quick digression: the pricing there always bothered me. We're talking like $15 if we go for Chinese or Applebees, maybe $30 if you're a little swankier, and then you want full service and an overnight? Shit, that costs like $1500 from an actual escort! You should be feeding me for a month!) It's about every gesture men do to "get laid." I'm getting laid too, buddy, you know? You don't have to sweet-talk me into bed, so sweet-talk me because you mean it. You don't have to buy me gifts to get me into bed, so buy me gifts because you want me to have them. (In the interests of really not having a double standard, I'll buy you gifts too!) You don't even have to clean the kitchen to get me into bed, so clean the kitchen because it's freaking filthy dammit.
I don't think men and women can be equal if sex is unequal. As long as sex is a thing, a transaction, something women give or sell to men, women are put in a really weird social place. (So are men, but it's a more powerful one since they have more than one thing to bargain with and it's not their own bodies.) If women are just as likely as men to fucking love sex, then sexual relationships start out on an equal basis, with the sex itself not a factor in either partner's favor. And that is why my neighbor-disturbing pillow-destroying orgasms matter to feminism.
Imagine a world where women really didn't get anything out of sex: let's say a world where there was no sex act other than the handjob. It's mildly unpleasant, a lot of work, and you don't really feel anything physically. If you're really into a guy psychologically, if you're in lust or love, you can get kinda excited that he's excited, but only kinda. If you're submissive, you might get into it as an act of pure service. And if you're none of the above, you're going to have to be paid, tricked, or coerced into getting jizz all up in your manicure for no good reason.
Sex, in other words, would have to be a transaction. You'd have to get something, real or emotional, for it; being told "the way your hand feels is your reward!" would be a slap in the face. And even in relationships where initially lust or love was enough, eventually the thrill of that would cool and your handjobs would get kind of bored and perfunctory--yeah, you understand he enjoys it, and nothing against him, it's just, you know, rough on the wrists and you wish you could have the TV on or something.
Do these attitudes, the ones that would develop in Handjob World, seem eerily familiar?
But sex isn't just handjobs. Sex is a beautiful array of actions that feel fucking fantastic to both sides. Female orgasms don't just exist; they're earth-shaking, reality-changing, mind-shattering. Hell, even apart from the orgasms, getting fucked is just awesome. Boom de yada.
It's true that orgasms usually aren't enough. Sex comes with risks and can be a bit draining, and although some people do have purely orgasm-based sexual relationships, even I can't really sustain that. But sexual pleasure, like every other part of a relationship, is mutual. She's giving him sex and he's giving her sex; it breaks even, so no one owes anyone anything for that.
This isn't just about dinner whoring, although that's the archetypal example. (Quick digression: the pricing there always bothered me. We're talking like $15 if we go for Chinese or Applebees, maybe $30 if you're a little swankier, and then you want full service and an overnight? Shit, that costs like $1500 from an actual escort! You should be feeding me for a month!) It's about every gesture men do to "get laid." I'm getting laid too, buddy, you know? You don't have to sweet-talk me into bed, so sweet-talk me because you mean it. You don't have to buy me gifts to get me into bed, so buy me gifts because you want me to have them. (In the interests of really not having a double standard, I'll buy you gifts too!) You don't even have to clean the kitchen to get me into bed, so clean the kitchen because it's freaking filthy dammit.
I don't think men and women can be equal if sex is unequal. As long as sex is a thing, a transaction, something women give or sell to men, women are put in a really weird social place. (So are men, but it's a more powerful one since they have more than one thing to bargain with and it's not their own bodies.) If women are just as likely as men to fucking love sex, then sexual relationships start out on an equal basis, with the sex itself not a factor in either partner's favor. And that is why my neighbor-disturbing pillow-destroying orgasms matter to feminism.
Jack asked me to post this.
Okay, quick question: why does everyone here seem to hate Jack? (Quick orientation: Jack = Lord Snuffulupagus = the guy who hosted that party = one of the guys who accompanied me to the feminist thing = the guy who took the hatchet photo.)
It seems like the blog commenters, even people who are usually cool with the crazy shit I do, seem to regard Jack as the corrupter of my innocence, the patriarch of patriarchs, and You're Not My Real Dad. I don't understand this. He's a pretty nice guy. Like, one of the nicest guys I know, in being kinky but also tremendously concerned not just about consent and enjoyment but also about the emotional health and social discord issues that can arise from BDSM. Maybe he's nicer in person or in private communication, but he hasn't really been that much of an asshole on the blog. And yet he seems to have gotten dogpiled like hell this last week. Which makes me sad because Jack's made it an awesome week for me.
There's a weird part of me that thinks 20 Internet commenters can't be wrong, and maybe people with an outside perspective see something I don't. I keep reexamining shit. I don't really see it though. Sure I've done stuff I wouldn't write to Gramma about, but I haven't done anything I didn't consent to and enjoy.
So my theories are down to:
A) Jack is an evil corrupter and I just can't tell because I'm distracted by all the orgasms.
B) People expect me to be only theoretically kinky and are disturbed by hearing that I actually do shit beyond black corsets and sensual flogging.
C) People see me as an innocent little girl whom Jack is getting in over her head.
D) I've been bad at communicating some of the things I've done this last week, and in trying to make them sound exciting and outrageous, inadvertently made them sound disturbing.
I think, or at least I'm hoping, that the answer is D. And I'll try to work on that. It's always awkward for me to put little safety catches in my writing, to remember to write "he [put on a condom and] rammed me deep" or "[after negotiation and consent] two guys [whom I knew and trusted] held me down and fucked me," but I'll try to do so. I do have to remember that the people reading here don't have anything to go off but what you read, and I'll try to respect you by giving you the whole story on things that could sound bad.
(That title is just there to mess with you. Although it's also true! OH GOD THE CONTRADICTIONS THEY SWIRL IN MY HEAD.
In the interest of context and reader respect I'll say the truth, which is that Jack suggested it in a semi-joking manner but I wrote it on my own and was already considering doing so.)
It seems like the blog commenters, even people who are usually cool with the crazy shit I do, seem to regard Jack as the corrupter of my innocence, the patriarch of patriarchs, and You're Not My Real Dad. I don't understand this. He's a pretty nice guy. Like, one of the nicest guys I know, in being kinky but also tremendously concerned not just about consent and enjoyment but also about the emotional health and social discord issues that can arise from BDSM. Maybe he's nicer in person or in private communication, but he hasn't really been that much of an asshole on the blog. And yet he seems to have gotten dogpiled like hell this last week. Which makes me sad because Jack's made it an awesome week for me.
There's a weird part of me that thinks 20 Internet commenters can't be wrong, and maybe people with an outside perspective see something I don't. I keep reexamining shit. I don't really see it though. Sure I've done stuff I wouldn't write to Gramma about, but I haven't done anything I didn't consent to and enjoy.
So my theories are down to:
A) Jack is an evil corrupter and I just can't tell because I'm distracted by all the orgasms.
B) People expect me to be only theoretically kinky and are disturbed by hearing that I actually do shit beyond black corsets and sensual flogging.
C) People see me as an innocent little girl whom Jack is getting in over her head.
D) I've been bad at communicating some of the things I've done this last week, and in trying to make them sound exciting and outrageous, inadvertently made them sound disturbing.
I think, or at least I'm hoping, that the answer is D. And I'll try to work on that. It's always awkward for me to put little safety catches in my writing, to remember to write "he [put on a condom and] rammed me deep" or "[after negotiation and consent] two guys [whom I knew and trusted] held me down and fucked me," but I'll try to do so. I do have to remember that the people reading here don't have anything to go off but what you read, and I'll try to respect you by giving you the whole story on things that could sound bad.
(That title is just there to mess with you. Although it's also true! OH GOD THE CONTRADICTIONS THEY SWIRL IN MY HEAD.
In the interest of context and reader respect I'll say the truth, which is that Jack suggested it in a semi-joking manner but I wrote it on my own and was already considering doing so.)
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Dating While Feminisht.
So... I dunno. First of all I should say it was a pretty great event and I am thankful to NOMAS-Boston for putting it on. It was awesome to meet all these cool sex and feminism bloggers in person!
But then we broke into discussion groups, and... my discussion group, at this feminist event, ended up getting hopelessly taken over by a couple of dudes! Very sensitive dudes who flagellated endlessly about how they sinfully sullied women by being attracted to them (and didn't want to hear me explain about how no, we actually like cock sometimes), but complete conversational monopolists. If you didn't want to talk exclusively about how hard it was to be a straight white rich male, well, tough titties, cupcake.
And now I feel bad about not doing more to shut them down, to go "hey, you're navel-gazing out loud for freakin' hours here, let's have a discussion please." And isn't that just the fucking way, that as a woman I feel bad for not stopping men from steamrolling me, because it must have been my fault? LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FEMINISM!
Also, there were interlopers. Two of my friends showed up and, um, stood out. They were both largish black-clad male dominants and somewhat less... timid than most of the attendees. Definitely not timid people. Also one of them was a tad handsy with me while I was trying to be all feministical. It was one of those situations where I kept thinking, "I should tell him to stop, but wait, I don't want him to stop."
Then afterwards we went out and they scratched highly problematic words into my flesh (and somehow sucked my blood out through my skin, wow I seriously have no idea how that happened) and there may have been furtive alley molestation and general Holly abuse. And I'm still not sure, after all this time in the kinky world, what to think of the fact that this made me feel really really really fucking good. Somewhere between the "are they deliberately trying to undermine the feminist thing by doing this?" and "no, no, feminists are allowed to be perverts god damn it" there was just a huge "AHHH AND I'M HAPPY."
You gotta follow your happy.
But then we broke into discussion groups, and... my discussion group, at this feminist event, ended up getting hopelessly taken over by a couple of dudes! Very sensitive dudes who flagellated endlessly about how they sinfully sullied women by being attracted to them (and didn't want to hear me explain about how no, we actually like cock sometimes), but complete conversational monopolists. If you didn't want to talk exclusively about how hard it was to be a straight white rich male, well, tough titties, cupcake.
And now I feel bad about not doing more to shut them down, to go "hey, you're navel-gazing out loud for freakin' hours here, let's have a discussion please." And isn't that just the fucking way, that as a woman I feel bad for not stopping men from steamrolling me, because it must have been my fault? LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FEMINISM!
Also, there were interlopers. Two of my friends showed up and, um, stood out. They were both largish black-clad male dominants and somewhat less... timid than most of the attendees. Definitely not timid people. Also one of them was a tad handsy with me while I was trying to be all feministical. It was one of those situations where I kept thinking, "I should tell him to stop, but wait, I don't want him to stop."
Then afterwards we went out and they scratched highly problematic words into my flesh (and somehow sucked my blood out through my skin, wow I seriously have no idea how that happened) and there may have been furtive alley molestation and general Holly abuse. And I'm still not sure, after all this time in the kinky world, what to think of the fact that this made me feel really really really fucking good. Somewhere between the "are they deliberately trying to undermine the feminist thing by doing this?" and "no, no, feminists are allowed to be perverts god damn it" there was just a huge "AHHH AND I'M HAPPY."
You gotta follow your happy.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wages of sin.
Oh shit. It looks like a whole bunch of people who were at the party have contracted a disease. It's viral, it can be treated but not cured, the effects are uncomfortable and embarrassing, and it's highly contagious. Even condoms don't stop it from spreading.
Yeah... we've got the flu.
(I am still making it to Dating While Feminist! I may come with an oxygen mask and IV drip, but I'll be there!)
Yeah... we've got the flu.
(I am still making it to Dating While Feminist! I may come with an oxygen mask and IV drip, but I'll be there!)
Admittedly a dude probably couldn't get away with anything like this.
The best pick-up line I have ever used:
"I heard you have a huge cock. Can I see?"
"I heard you have a huge cock. Can I see?"
Fucking While Feminist.
The theme of the "Dating While Feminist" event is based on an interview Jacklyn Friedman gave on the subject of "Fucking While Feminist." (Despite the title, she's actually talking about dating, so the euphemism-shift isn't unreasonable.)
I have to admit, the part of the interview that jumped out at me first was:
I feel like the same thing happened with the guy I dated for two years. He liked the idea of being a guy who would be with someone like me, but ultimately it turned out that he wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him as much, a person who was easier and quicker to sweep away. I got evidence of that when, within three months of breaking up with me, he was dating a 23 year old who lists her political views on Facebook as “moderate.”
Because I'm 24 years old, and I list my political views on Facebook as "moderate." So that's just funny.
But unintentionally on-the-nose insults inside, the gist of the interview is: how do you find a man who understands and agrees with feminism, and also makes you all squishy in your panties?
The good news is, for me, the two are increasingly the same damn thing. Lately, I've been finding that a guy who acts creepy or disrespectful about women shuts down the panty-squish so fast that it's not even a question. I believe that seeing women as people is the first step in really understanding what turns women on. Something as ridiculously self-evident as "touch her on the vagina" is often beyond the comprehension of guys who are expecting a Madonna or whore, an enigma or fucktoy, rather than a horny human being.
A couple of guys were shocked that I like to play various games in bed, because I’m a feminist. That’s always really interesting to me. I’m always like, ‘Are you kidding me? The feminists I know are the craziest women in bed you can find!” Those are the moments where I feel like a one-woman feminist PR machine. I’m instructing the world one man at a time that feminists are really fun to sleep with.
The "feminists are good in bed" meme is kind of a tricky thing, because I never want to fall into making it sound like that's the point of feminism, or a reason to play along with the silly broads. But it's true, and it's not a coincidence. Feminist women don't worry that being wild in bed will tip them disastrously from Madonna to whore, and feminist men don't think that giving women pleasure is irrelevant or impossible.
How about being feminist, submissive, and dating? Actually, that makes it much easier. Sure, there are dominant guys out there who really think that all women should serve all men, but for the most part, being kinky makes you much more aware of how artificial and arbitrary dominant/submissive roles are. Most dominants are very aware that only subs are submissive, if you get my drift--that submission is a thing certain women (and men) deliberately take on, not any kind of natural state of the gender. Limits, negotiation, and communication are also huge things in BDSM--not only can you not assume a women is submissive, you can't assume a submissive wants a certain kind of sex or play. I'll take this any day over the usual vanilla assumption that sex is a "package deal" and that if any sex at all was agreed to, nothing short of anal has to be explicitly negotiated.
Ultimately, what makes a date "feminist"? To me, it's not politics or labels. It's the simple ability to treat women (and men!) like they're people. People who have their own thoughts, live their own lives, make their own choices, set their own limits, and deserve respect even when you don't understand or agree. If a guy can do that, I think it shows in a lot of what he says and does, and it makes him so fucking sexy.
I have to admit, the part of the interview that jumped out at me first was:
I feel like the same thing happened with the guy I dated for two years. He liked the idea of being a guy who would be with someone like me, but ultimately it turned out that he wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him as much, a person who was easier and quicker to sweep away. I got evidence of that when, within three months of breaking up with me, he was dating a 23 year old who lists her political views on Facebook as “moderate.”
Because I'm 24 years old, and I list my political views on Facebook as "moderate." So that's just funny.
But unintentionally on-the-nose insults inside, the gist of the interview is: how do you find a man who understands and agrees with feminism, and also makes you all squishy in your panties?
The good news is, for me, the two are increasingly the same damn thing. Lately, I've been finding that a guy who acts creepy or disrespectful about women shuts down the panty-squish so fast that it's not even a question. I believe that seeing women as people is the first step in really understanding what turns women on. Something as ridiculously self-evident as "touch her on the vagina" is often beyond the comprehension of guys who are expecting a Madonna or whore, an enigma or fucktoy, rather than a horny human being.
A couple of guys were shocked that I like to play various games in bed, because I’m a feminist. That’s always really interesting to me. I’m always like, ‘Are you kidding me? The feminists I know are the craziest women in bed you can find!” Those are the moments where I feel like a one-woman feminist PR machine. I’m instructing the world one man at a time that feminists are really fun to sleep with.
The "feminists are good in bed" meme is kind of a tricky thing, because I never want to fall into making it sound like that's the point of feminism, or a reason to play along with the silly broads. But it's true, and it's not a coincidence. Feminist women don't worry that being wild in bed will tip them disastrously from Madonna to whore, and feminist men don't think that giving women pleasure is irrelevant or impossible.
How about being feminist, submissive, and dating? Actually, that makes it much easier. Sure, there are dominant guys out there who really think that all women should serve all men, but for the most part, being kinky makes you much more aware of how artificial and arbitrary dominant/submissive roles are. Most dominants are very aware that only subs are submissive, if you get my drift--that submission is a thing certain women (and men) deliberately take on, not any kind of natural state of the gender. Limits, negotiation, and communication are also huge things in BDSM--not only can you not assume a women is submissive, you can't assume a submissive wants a certain kind of sex or play. I'll take this any day over the usual vanilla assumption that sex is a "package deal" and that if any sex at all was agreed to, nothing short of anal has to be explicitly negotiated.
Ultimately, what makes a date "feminist"? To me, it's not politics or labels. It's the simple ability to treat women (and men!) like they're people. People who have their own thoughts, live their own lives, make their own choices, set their own limits, and deserve respect even when you don't understand or agree. If a guy can do that, I think it shows in a lot of what he says and does, and it makes him so fucking sexy.
Dating While Feminist is tomorrow!
Reminder: I will be part of a discussion on "Dating While Feminist" organized by NOMAS (the National Organization of Men Against Sexism) Boston. Here are the details:
Thursday, July 29th
6:00-9:00 PM
Lir Pub
903 Boylston St, Boston, MA (Map)
Facebook Event Page
It's gonna be awesome! Be there, or be... not there!
Thursday, July 29th
6:00-9:00 PM
Lir Pub
903 Boylston St, Boston, MA (Map)
Facebook Event Page
It's gonna be awesome! Be there, or be... not there!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Done.
Although I wouldn't trade my sexual abilities for anything (maybe the lives of a busload of orphans? mayyybe? hm. nah.), in one sense I do kind of envy most men and some women--the ones who can have an orgasm and be done. It must be nice to have even five minutes post-orgasmically when you really can't go again and don't want to.
I don't really finish having sex. I just get sore, tired, out of time, or my partner gets done. (My hips used to be the first to tap out, but I've been getting more exercise lately so usually I can last until my vagina itself waves a tiny white flag.) I can't be satisfied.
I masturbated three times today. The only reasons it wasn't four were lingering soreness and the need to do other things with my day.
I'm honestly not sure if this is a whine or a brag, here. On the one hand, I'm awfully jealous of the ability to completely relax after an orgasm and truly be sated with sex for a few minutes of your life. It can be awkward when I'm supposed to be basking in afterglow and he's all relaxed and warmfuzzy and I'm lying there wishing he'd make me come just one more time. Just one more. Or two, you know, if you feel like it.
On the other hand, now and then I get into situations like a couple nights ago, completely sore and completely tapped out and yet... not just taking a man's fingers but fucking back on them and coming on them over and over and over. "You really can't help it, can you?" he asked, and the answer is I can't. It's frustrating and a little humiliating and it leads me into pain and it's awesome.
I don't really finish having sex. I just get sore, tired, out of time, or my partner gets done. (My hips used to be the first to tap out, but I've been getting more exercise lately so usually I can last until my vagina itself waves a tiny white flag.) I can't be satisfied.
I masturbated three times today. The only reasons it wasn't four were lingering soreness and the need to do other things with my day.
I'm honestly not sure if this is a whine or a brag, here. On the one hand, I'm awfully jealous of the ability to completely relax after an orgasm and truly be sated with sex for a few minutes of your life. It can be awkward when I'm supposed to be basking in afterglow and he's all relaxed and warmfuzzy and I'm lying there wishing he'd make me come just one more time. Just one more. Or two, you know, if you feel like it.
On the other hand, now and then I get into situations like a couple nights ago, completely sore and completely tapped out and yet... not just taking a man's fingers but fucking back on them and coming on them over and over and over. "You really can't help it, can you?" he asked, and the answer is I can't. It's frustrating and a little humiliating and it leads me into pain and it's awesome.
Back to work.
Today was all work--a lot of work, actually, which was kind of good. Much as I bemoan my inability to brag about my butt-sluttery there, I do like the feeling of having some value to mainstream society.
And I had my phlebotomy class today! So now I'm qualified to draw blood! Very cool. The only drawback was that it meant I had to get stuck repeatedly with goddamn needles. (I also did some sticking. But the class seemed to be much more about the rite of passage of getting stuck than about actually learning the techniques.) And it was not socially acceptable to groan and writhe and bellow "OH YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER" at my fellow students.
And I had my phlebotomy class today! So now I'm qualified to draw blood! Very cool. The only drawback was that it meant I had to get stuck repeatedly with goddamn needles. (I also did some sticking. But the class seemed to be much more about the rite of passage of getting stuck than about actually learning the techniques.) And it was not socially acceptable to groan and writhe and bellow "OH YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER" at my fellow students.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Burying the hatchet, and other debauchery.
The following are SO VERY NWS and also document why you should probably buy stock in Tylenol today.
Fun with Sharpies!
Question: is it still "humiliation" if you're not just unfazed, but downright proud?
My back, in an early state of deconstruction.
My back with Ronco Rocker.
I do think it's cool that although there's less than 24 hours between the photos, most of the marks from the first one are completely gone. I've got Wolverine Healing Powers. Also note the second "WHORE," of course.
Um.
So yeah, that's a hatchet. It's a fucking hatchet. (Also, I am the kind of slob who leaves her watch on in bed. Ugh, I'm disgusted with myself.)
And honestly, it's a fucking shame that I don't show my face on the blog (and I'm sure as hell not showing it in the same frame as that), because I think the whole tone of the photo is changed when you can see that I'm laughing my fucking ass off. Decontextualized, it looks sort of fucked up and degrading; in context, my attitude was much more "hey dude check this out" than "this is what I've sunken to."
My breasts the next morning.
Christ that's sore! Christ that's awesome.
Fun with Sharpies!
Question: is it still "humiliation" if you're not just unfazed, but downright proud?
My back, in an early state of deconstruction.
My back with Ronco Rocker.
I do think it's cool that although there's less than 24 hours between the photos, most of the marks from the first one are completely gone. I've got Wolverine Healing Powers. Also note the second "WHORE," of course.
Um.
So yeah, that's a hatchet. It's a fucking hatchet. (Also, I am the kind of slob who leaves her watch on in bed. Ugh, I'm disgusted with myself.)
And honestly, it's a fucking shame that I don't show my face on the blog (and I'm sure as hell not showing it in the same frame as that), because I think the whole tone of the photo is changed when you can see that I'm laughing my fucking ass off. Decontextualized, it looks sort of fucked up and degrading; in context, my attitude was much more "hey dude check this out" than "this is what I've sunken to."
My breasts the next morning.
Christ that's sore! Christ that's awesome.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Lessons learned.
-Play piercing is probably not for me, at least right now. It makes me freak out on some hard-to-define "this is not right for my body" level, and it hurts like a sonofabitch.
-Hand spanking and slapping gets a reputation as mild because it's so simple, but I actually find it more painful and harder to take in large doses than most officially designated implements of pain.
-Implements of pain, meanwhile, are pretty fucking awesome. How do people have sex without getting flogged, seriously. Or at least being dragged around by the hair and choked and bitten. That's not even weird.
-My streak of having amazing sex without actually having intercourse continues. I haven't had PIV in like two months, and I've been fucking like crazy.
-"I looked in the mirror... Apparently I'm an EROHW?"
-My orgasmic reactions are seriously getting to be somewhere between "ridiculous" and "rule out seizure disorder." ("r/o sz d/o") I'm not talking "I yelled and squirmed a lot, ooh." I'm talking "I slammed my head on the wall and chewed on a pillow and didn't clearly remember it." (And this immediately after making fun of the sex scene in Breaking Dawn.) Also I couldn't talk after. It was crossing the line from "wow, I'm speechless" to "expressive aphasia."
-During one of these tonic-clonic orgasms, I somehow cracked my iPod. Dammit. It still works, but dammit.
-I am a human Etch-a-Sketch. Have I mentioned that? If you lightly scratch my skin in some places it leaves bright red lines. It's an interesting feature if you like to leave marks. I was grown in a lab.
-I'm continually amazed that anyone would be generous enough to be a Dom. The fact that there are people out there who want to whip me and humiliate me and wouldn't even like me to return the favor... it's pretty much one of my proofs of purpose in the Universe. (Another one: the fact that on the hottest day of last year in Seattle, in fact one of the hottest days ever there, a rendering truck slowly lost its load over 30 miles of I-5. That's way too perfect to have just happened.)
-Aw dammit, I'm going to a party tonight and my pussy is kind of wrecked. Oh well, I suppose I can always just socialize like a regular person, if I have to.
-Tomorrow's most likely post: "Oh God, I feel like I just got a pelvic from Dr. Cactushands."
-Hand spanking and slapping gets a reputation as mild because it's so simple, but I actually find it more painful and harder to take in large doses than most officially designated implements of pain.
-Implements of pain, meanwhile, are pretty fucking awesome. How do people have sex without getting flogged, seriously. Or at least being dragged around by the hair and choked and bitten. That's not even weird.
-My streak of having amazing sex without actually having intercourse continues. I haven't had PIV in like two months, and I've been fucking like crazy.
-"I looked in the mirror... Apparently I'm an EROHW?"
-My orgasmic reactions are seriously getting to be somewhere between "ridiculous" and "rule out seizure disorder." ("r/o sz d/o") I'm not talking "I yelled and squirmed a lot, ooh." I'm talking "I slammed my head on the wall and chewed on a pillow and didn't clearly remember it." (And this immediately after making fun of the sex scene in Breaking Dawn.) Also I couldn't talk after. It was crossing the line from "wow, I'm speechless" to "expressive aphasia."
-During one of these tonic-clonic orgasms, I somehow cracked my iPod. Dammit. It still works, but dammit.
-I am a human Etch-a-Sketch. Have I mentioned that? If you lightly scratch my skin in some places it leaves bright red lines. It's an interesting feature if you like to leave marks. I was grown in a lab.
-I'm continually amazed that anyone would be generous enough to be a Dom. The fact that there are people out there who want to whip me and humiliate me and wouldn't even like me to return the favor... it's pretty much one of my proofs of purpose in the Universe. (Another one: the fact that on the hottest day of last year in Seattle, in fact one of the hottest days ever there, a rendering truck slowly lost its load over 30 miles of I-5. That's way too perfect to have just happened.)
-Aw dammit, I'm going to a party tonight and my pussy is kind of wrecked. Oh well, I suppose I can always just socialize like a regular person, if I have to.
-Tomorrow's most likely post: "Oh God, I feel like I just got a pelvic from Dr. Cactushands."
Friday, July 23, 2010
Saw.
I always think that being pregnant must be like the Saw movies.
"Hello Holly. I want to play a game. In your life you have sought larger and larger things to insert inside your body, but can you handle the truly large? Let's find out. Implanted inside your body there is a living organism. It will steadily grow larger inside you. You have nine months to find a way to get it out. Every option is painful, but you must choose. How much blood will you spill to stay alive?"
"Hello Holly. I want to play a game. In your life you have sought larger and larger things to insert inside your body, but can you handle the truly large? Let's find out. Implanted inside your body there is a living organism. It will steadily grow larger inside you. You have nine months to find a way to get it out. Every option is painful, but you must choose. How much blood will you spill to stay alive?"
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Aftershocks.
I'm finding that after I have a really intense orgasm--or series of orgasms--God I love my life--sometimes it's not over when it's over. There's a period of time afterwards when my brain is fried and I'm hypersensitive. In a sense I'm still coming, even if nothing is touching my vagina. I can't think; when I talk, it'll be either nonsensical babble or extremely specific directions on how to touch me. I have, I am consumed by, a tremendous drive to be touched. Everything touching my skin--everything, even the sheets beneath me--feels amplified a thousand times. Pain does not feel much like pain at all. I want to make out and I want to be struck.
I am not much use during this time. I don't have the energy to move; I probably won't be sucking or stroking your cock and I definitely won't be riding you. But I am tremendously, exquisitely reactive to anything you do. If you ever wanted to just stroke your finger across a girl's shoulder and have her moan and squirm like she's getting deep-dicked, this would be your chance. (Actual deep-dicking during this time may produce highly volatile results. Further experimentation is warranted.)
This seems to be a relatively recent thing; I don't remember it happening when I was younger. It doesn't happen every time, even if the sex was great, and it almost never happens when I'm alone. But as strange and amazing and wonderful experiences go... yeah, it's pretty awesome.
I am not much use during this time. I don't have the energy to move; I probably won't be sucking or stroking your cock and I definitely won't be riding you. But I am tremendously, exquisitely reactive to anything you do. If you ever wanted to just stroke your finger across a girl's shoulder and have her moan and squirm like she's getting deep-dicked, this would be your chance. (Actual deep-dicking during this time may produce highly volatile results. Further experimentation is warranted.)
This seems to be a relatively recent thing; I don't remember it happening when I was younger. It doesn't happen every time, even if the sex was great, and it almost never happens when I'm alone. But as strange and amazing and wonderful experiences go... yeah, it's pretty awesome.
Pillow Talk.
"Your vagina is like a penis."
"Thank you. I was grown in a lab."
(This was in reference to function, not structure.)
"Thank you. I was grown in a lab."
(This was in reference to function, not structure.)
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