Vagina Stuff
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  • Is Your Vagina A Dictator of Love?

    Well it’s official. I think every one of my friends believes that I live inside a giant gaping vulva. The impression seems to be that my house is in fact the folds and billows of a massive pink vagina that I deliver myself out of every morning – covered in birth cheese. In truth, at this exact moment half my body is still inside my uterine abode, because it is just so warm and gooey in there!

    Otherwise how can it be explained that not one, not two, but four people sent me this article entitled “The Pussy Test: How to Tell If You Are With The Right Partner.”

    The author suggests that in order to tell if your relationship is truly working, you should be able to ask your partner to “sit comfortably between your legs and explore your pussy. I mean really look and touch you sweetly and slowly and take her or his time. Ask her or him to take a look around, spread your pussy open, slip her or his finger up and down and around. Not in just yet. Have her or him massage your outer lips and pull back the hood of your clit and admire you.”

    The author’s rational is that a woman’s lotus flower is an often under appreciated organ, and it should be revered as the magical blossom it is. She also suggests that if you do not feel able to ask your sexual partner to bask in the glory of your yoni, then you are probably with the wrong person.

    “If you don’t feel comfortable asking the person you’re with to do that, you have to question your relationship with your body and your sexuality. If that relationship is in question, if you’re not whole in that way, how can you be expecting to find a relationship with another human that’s whole?”

    Now here is my question. How can I intellectually agree with something so wholeheartedly, yet have ZERO interest in doing this in my life EVER…. with anyone.

    I feel my disinterest in this ritual has nothing to do with my feelings about my body, or the kind soul trying to penetrate it, but rather there are so many other things I would rather do with my time. Maybe my problem is that I know my body too well? I am pretty much a two pump chump… meaning it doesn’t’ take that much to get me off. So why not do something else with my afternoon like say, read about the prison industrial complex.

    Although I support this effort philosophically, I also am not convinced that it is the only barometer of love for the other, or the self. Feeling comfortable doesn’t mean you yearn to be probed like an alien abductee. Although the quest to glorify all things pussy related is a righteous one – I don’t think the kitty between your thighs is the exclusive decider of your ideal committed relationship. Maybe your perfect partner unloads the dishwasher and does their own laundry?

    Sexuality is complicated, fleeting, hypocritical, finicky, and temperamental – especially for women! We have our monthly moon cycles to contend with. There are a lot of things I would be down for when ovulating – but then a few days later all I want is to watch Netflix and eat brownie batter. That is just the way it is. There are ebbs and flows to desire, and a variety of factors that influence it. Not every person that you would want to gaze inside your love gorge is someone you want to hang out with at Home Depot.

    So by all means – engage in this ceremony if it speaks to you, but I would also suggest the Bed Bath and Beyond test.

    (Maybe this is all you want? Some modern romance!)

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    February 23, 2015 • Current Events, Health, Musings, Relationships, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 6187

  • It Turns Out Women Are Just as Perverted as Men!

    Life if full of contradictions. We need the sun for vitamin D, but too much sun can cause cancer. Sunscreen might help prevent skin cancer, but it also might cause cancer from all the fucked up chemicals in it. Nothing is exactly how it seems. The universe is a hazy shade of grey.

    Perhaps… 50 shades of it?

    Sorry… I had to go there.

    The media’s portrayal of female sexuality remains a great paradoxes. We are told we can sleep with guys, yet not too many guys, but as many guys as we want as long as we “lean in” while being a “Tiger Mom” who lost all our baby weight! I read a lot about women and their lady parts because you know… I have a vagina, and get my period, and gross!!!

    I recently came across this article on Jezebel, where the author tricked her boyfriend into seeing a German movie called “Wetlands.” If you know anything about German movies that involve sex, you know that shit is going to get weird real fast. The movie narrative (based off a book) uses flashbacks to tell the story, because the main character, Helen, is stuck in the hospital from cutting her ass open while shaving around her hemorrhoids. A common mistake! The Jezebel author describes Helen as “sexually empowered” and “knowing what she wants” – which involves rubbing her gaping genitals on a toilet seat covered in feces, shoving an avocado up her twatt, and my personal favorite “putting the shower head inside herself and filling her vagina with water until she feels like she’ll burst. Then she pushes until the entire thing feels like it’s going to fall out.”

    Now call me old fashioned, but seriously WTF????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    As a feminist I am supposed to clap my chubby little hands at all things women do to express their deepest desires. Yet I am pretty sure that if this story were about a man I would have just as many questions. Mainly, were you hugged enough as a kid?

    I am happy that women’s sexuality is being depicted as complex. This is progress. You wouldn’t have seen this film or read the novel in the fifties (although it would have made for a pretty epic “Leave it To Beaver” episode). Truth be told, this type of sexual behavior makes me want to hurl. Not because I am some prude who thinks they shouldn’t do it…. BUT HOLY HELL DOESN’T THAT HURT AND ISN’T THAT DANGEROUS??!!

    This is my question: when people’s sexual identities are so intense, doesn’t that border on obsession? Sex is cool and all and should be a priority, but it takes a lot of time to shove a variety of vegetables inside your body. Time that could be spent learning how to farm organically, or petitioning politicians to stop Fracking. Isn’t there a balance between getting freaky like how Helen “fingers her ass until her fingers are brown with butt sleaze,” and not having your sexual preferences take over your life? Is this really a depiction of what “sexual empowerment” looks like? It just seems to me that when people have such vastly extreme tastes, that maybe they are working out something that is much deeper that what can be achieved through aggressive masturbation.

    Sex is just as addictive as any drug, and just as powerful of a distraction from facing reality. Society is struggling with vast terrifying predicaments and like sex and pornography are a few of the key ways grown-ups check out from dealing emotionally with our lives.

    Of course this logic applies to TV, smoking pot, or watching sleepy cat videos on Youtube – soooo cute!!!!! We all run from the responsibility of figuring out how to revolt from the 1% Lizard-People elite who control the planet and will soon be using our blood to fuel for their rocket ship to Mars after this planet has been destroyed by their greed. Yet the more we spend our time jerking off, the more we are not participating positively to the collective effort to better the world for the future.

    I’m glad people are finally waking up to the fact that women can be just as perverted as men. That said, I don’t jump up and down every time I hear about a guy wanting to a martini glass full of a women’s shit; I also won’t be moved to hear about a chick eating a semen covered pizza. Perhaps if the dude was having his diarrhea cocktail while presenting his plan to end sex trafficking at the United Nations, or the woman was munching on her delicious treat up in a tree in the rainforest to protest the degeneration of our most precious source of oxygen, then I would want to know all about it!

    (I mean I guess wiping your menses on your face is a good idea?)

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    January 7, 2015 • Current Events, Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 21997

  • Losing My Virginity

    I am not sure why I feel compelled to tell this story. Maybe because I spent an ample amount of time watching Madonna videos with my child over the weekend? By the way, if you ever want to challenge yourself intellectually, try watching “Like a Prayer” with a four-year old who expects you to explain the symbolism of making out with a black Jesus statue that cries blood.

    When we got to “Like A Virgin,” and I watched as Madonna writhed around Venice with a lion, I began to think back to my own virginity. Where had that pesky thing gone, and could I get it back for this networking party I am going to?

    Virginity is sacred. I say that not from a religious or moral perspective, but rather an observation of its impermanence. There is innocence to virginity because you are protected from the absurdity of mashing your genitals against another person. Although at times if can be hard to appreciate, it is still something to maintain and cultivate like a bed of flowers – even if you want someone to garden with. Virginity deserves to be cherished. Once you start having sex, you never stop. Everything after it is colored with a different context. A kiss no longer begs the question of if it will lead to sex – but when. That is the main reason to hold to your virginity is once you let go, it never comes back.

    Fly little virginity bird… fly far far away!

    We all have our “losing our virginity” stories…. This just happens to me mine.

    I was in the 8th grade, and one of my best friend’s was the “bad boy” of our class – so obviously I was into him. By the way… I went to a really preppy school, so being “bad” meant he took French instead of Latin. One day we were on the phone talking about sex while I was doing my math homework.

    Toni: What is the big deal? I don’t get it. Anyway… do you know what 30% of the square root of whatever is?
    The Boy: I don’t know… Hey, so maybe we should just do it and find out what it’s all about?
    Toni: Okay fine.

    I actually didn’t really care what it was all about, or what the big deal was. I had never even kissed a boy except once while playing “truth or dare.” It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but I also found that experience to be less enjoyable than eating skittles. I guess I was curious about sex… but I think my real motivation was that I was bored.

    The Boy came over while my parents were at the movies. He brought some weed and condoms even though I am pretty sure neither of us had any STDs, nor had I even gotten my period yet. We smoked a joint, and reality melted in that unique way that it does when you get high at 14.

    We went over to my bunk bed, and he went down on me. It lasted for about an hour, and I know that because I was looking at this pink radio clock next to my head. It would play “Here Comes The Sun” to wake me up, and I remember thinking how that song was probably my least favorite of Beatles – except for Revolution! That one really sucks. I didn’t hate what The Boy was doing, but I also wasn’t really paying attention. I knew it was a nice gesture though.

    Eventually I got up, and we sat next to each other wondering what to do next. We talked a little bit about how our English teacher was an asshole, and how science class would be okay if we dissected more stuff. We then decided that They Boy should take off his pants. Now, I had never seen a penis besides my brother’s when we were kids in the bath, so I didn’t understand why The Boy’s was pointing upwards rather than hanging down. I asked The Boy “Why is your penis floating like that?” and he looked at me REALLY confused.

    You guys this was the 90-s!! There was no easy access to porn! I had never seen an erection before!!! The only adult nudity I had ever been exposed to was my grandfather’s Playboys – and those were all naked girls. I had heard of boners before, but I didn’t really know what it meant in the flesh.

    After staring at his suspended penis for a while, we then discussed the concept of my giving him a blowjob – which also needed an explanation. I felt this was a fair trade considering The Boy’s previous effort, but I was also tentative about actually putting a penis in my mouth.

    Toni: But you pee out of there?

    I then had the amazing idea of going down stairs to get coffee ice cream to put on his penis so it would taste better. I guess had a lot to learn about the laws of physics, and the effects of cold on tissue… but I was right about the ice cream tasting delicious.

    We then had sex. At least we both thought we did. At one point he told me to turn around so we could try doggy style. I still had braces on my teeth.

    We then swore each other to secrecy and went back to being friends. I feel lucky that I happened to have a partner who was not only kind, but also prioritized my taste buds over his shrinkage. Even though we were both WAYYYYY to young to be having sex, at least he spoke French.

    (Here is my braces clad 8th grade self)

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    November 10, 2014 • Musings, Old School Stories, Relationships, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 12114

  • Feminism in Not A Plot Against Penises

    If you have a vulva, you not only have to learn the ins and outs of tampon usage, but you are also expected to stand on one side of the feminism fence or the other. You cannot straddle the middle – that would be not only unladylike, but also quite uncomfortable. Yet is perpetuating the idea of feminism helpful, or just further creating a chasm in the gender divide?

    While the majority of women promoting a feminist agenda are not man-hating amazons frothing at the mouth to castrate males with their teeth, this remains the dominant stereotype. Men’s Rights activists are the fastest growing civil rights group in the western world, and are gaining many women supporters along the way. Recently a campaign was launched promoting women who don’t believe they need feminism, which was followed up by a Tumbler blog where kitty cats agreed. If women don’t have the pussies on their side, we have serious problems!

    The definition of feminism is “equal rights for women.” Yet there is a difference between actual definitions of words, and cultural concepts. What does “equal rights” mean for women in America when feminism is no longer addressing constitutional amendments? On paper, men and women do have equal rights. The modern challenge of feminism is much more nuanced than in the past. There are still wage gaps, abortion rights threatened, and absurd policies when it comes to maternity leave – but the current most persistent battle against women is that of public perception. Yet how do we demand equality within the more subtle context of psychology? Feminism is not just about addressing public policy, but the role of femininity within society.

    Femininity is devalued across the spectrum, seen as more of a weakness than an asset, and considered fundamentally irrational. This ethos is deeply engrained, as being feminine is thought of as “less than,” or an insult. This is a corrosive consequence of systemic sexism. Yet we are becoming hypersensitive to a point of PC blandness. Parents are petrified of anything that will contribute to potential gender stereotypes and are in a constant state of panic to impose on their children. Yet just because a little girl wears pink and likes princesses doesn’t mean she will grow up to dot her i’s with hearts, or become a stripper in Tampa. I don’t think the answer is to blend the sexes completely to breed omni-gender babies with Barbie crotches – although that would be advantageous when it comes to changing diapers.

    We can’t obliterate gender completely, yet to deprogram the socialization of thousands of years is proving to be an almost endless challenge. How do we inspire people to “think different” and why didn’t Apple address this issue with the iPhone 6? We can’t force people to change their opinions by saying “Hey sexist men – respect and honor women now or I will shove my lady-gun up your pee hole.” Or “Hey sweetie who doesn’t think you need feminism – your opinion about not needing feminism is only valid because of feminize so…” We don’t live in a post racial or post sexist world because our minds are still holding on to the sentiments that have shaped our history – even when officially the structure has evolved.

    Many men and women are still attached to past paradigms when it comes to gender roles. I don’t think they consider that their definitions of masculinity and femininity are ultimately constructs that have been created through centuries of conditioning. I am pretty sure they assume this is the way things are because this is they way they are supposed to be. Convincing someone to reevaluate their understanding of the world is complex. Once someone has a conviction, it takes a lot to open minds and hearts.

    Even though feminism is not trying to take over the world to create a matriarchy where men are subordinate to women as we spend the days flicking their balls and making them carry heavy bags – a lot of people are scared of change. They don’t know what it will mean for them personally, and fear the effects will be negative. These aren’t evil people, but they are unconsciously afraid that within this this ever-changing landscape they will lose their identity.

    Feminism can paint the picture of what the world will look like within this new frame. The conversation shouldn’t just be about what we are against, but what we are for. A feminist future is not an apocalyptic crisis where the family unit is destroyed as women pillage the earth for the remaining cotton for their ever-flowing menstruation. It is one where both genders have the freedom to pursue their true essence in an authentic way. The pressure for men to be one way and women to be another is oppressive. Rather than living our lives as we are supposed to, we can start conducting them as we choose to. Feminism is not a plot against penises, but rather an opportunity for a cultural episiotomy to sew up the tear between the genders so we can collectively evolve.

    And now my present to you… a picture of the penis snake.

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    November 3, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 5940

  • Manicuring Pubic Grass

    Kids these days are waxing off their public hair so their genitalia looks like Daddy Warbuck’s head. Ripping out their private fabric so they’re as smooth as a marble countertop at an ice cream shop.  It is all the rage in porno culture and has become so pervasive that having a full bush is as rare as an honest politician. As a feminist, I am not supposed to be into  because said hair has a functional/sanitary purpose, and  removing it leaves women vulnerable to bacteria.  At the same time, it can block our little man in the canoe, so that is something to consider…. just saying.

    There’s a lot of rhetoric around men liking women to shave/wax because they want them to look like little girls, but I don’t really think that’s true. Most guys I know haven’t seen a lot of naked little girls, nor do they lust after them.  I don’t think a hairless cootch is a return to some sexual awakening because the majority of eight year old boys aren’t getting any. I think guys like it because it is easier to see what is going on and when his face is buried in the canyon, the hint of pee isn’t lingering in the follicles. Just as there are practical reasons to keep your pubic curtain, there also are reasons to spread it.

    Although there is logic to manicuring one’s pubic grass so it doesn’t get stuck in the teeth of  a loved one, I also think there is great potential in branding your crotch with the shape of your hair.  I mean, can’t we get more creative than a “landing strip?”  Why bother going through the trouble only to end up with a Hitler mustache?

    Why not wax your pubes into an outline of an om to prove your spirituality? Or demonstrate your punk rock personality with a vaginal silhouette of Iggy Pop? I think preppy girls should groom into a Burberry plaid and intellectual women could perhaps coif their tufts into prose from Kierkegaard. There is so much potential that is wasted when the whole mane is stripped away.

    More ideas worth consideration (applicable for men too btw — you don’t want to tickle your lady friend in the nose when her mouth is full of oysters):

    1) An alien landing pad (no explanation needed)
    2) A selfie (obvi)
    3) A bottle of champagne (so everyone knows you are a boss)
    4) Who you are voting for in the next election (so your politics are known before things get too far)
    5) An iPhone (so it gets lots of attention and finger work)
    6) A map (again, no explanation needed)

     

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    September 18, 2014 • Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 4332

  • The Preppy White Hiker

    Walking is like cocaine. Seriously it is. It releases the same endorphins, and stimulates the same of the brain that makes you want to talk.  Walking while talking makes you more open, and facilitates dialogue. If you are ever in an intense argument with someone, go for a walk together and immediately the energy will change.

    When you hike a mountain with someone, not only are you high as fuck from the altitude, but also the walking. Of course on your way up it is hard to communicate because you are trying to breathe while also wondering why you went hiking in the first place, and if you even like hiking at all.  Yet after you bask in the accomplishment of making it to the top, the hike down is prime opportunity for some epic conversations.

    My friend Sasha recently came to visit me, and we went on adventure hiking up a mountain. On our way down, we did what any normal person would do – start talking about sex. For the majority of the hike we were the only ones on the trail, so by this point all our inhibitions melted away as we got intimate – in the discussion… not with each other you pervert.

    We were going on and on about past experiences, fantasies, likes, dislikes – totally oblivious to the world around us.  Now, the way were were traversing down the mountain was in the following positioning. I was in front, while Sasha was behind – revealing herself as I was taking it all in.  Wait… stop begin so gross. I meant she was talking and I was listening.

    Just as Sasha was exposing one of the most personal private parts… of her story you sicko… I saw a man coming towards us.

    He was the quintessential white, New England hiker. I am pretty sure he is the type of dude who chops wood to warm his cabin at night, reads Thoreau with a warm glass of whisky on a whicker chair, and the only time he has ever talked about his feelings is when he said “see you later” to his dad on his death bead. This was not a man who seemed to be in touch with his emotions, nor would he ever share any personal details about his life beyond what brand of wool socks keeps you most warm once wet with morning dew.  He was wearing his hiking boots, shorts, plaid shirt, a back pack with water, and sun hat.  He was that guy.

    We made eye contact through the trees, and I wanted to communicate to Sasha that this man was coming – but I didn’t know how…  I just kept walking forward and letting her talk, sort of thinking everything was going to be okay because she must have seen him too right?  The Preppy Hiker kept walking towards us, and could hear everything that was coming out of Sasha’s hole…. in her face you horny toad!

    Sasha: Every time I have been in a situation where people are having sex right in front of me I get super turned on. I just really get off on watching other people fuck.

    Right as Sasha uttered that last word – she looked up and saw the hiker.

    White New England Hiker: Uhhhhh… Don’t mind me….

    That was pretty much the best moment of all of our lives.

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  • The Mystery Of Miscarriages

    A week ago, one of my closest friends found out she was pregnant. She took the test and her life was changed forever in a moment, punctuated by a blue plus sign. She came to visit me so we could share in this miraculous moment together. We hugged and right away felt I was embracing two beautiful souls. She was happy, scared, nervous, nauseous, tired, and joyous – with her tummy full of a baby. We talked about the future, planned how I was going to be at the birth and just as fast as it all started, the fear of it all ending began.

    At first there was light bleeding. Nothing to be nervous about, as we assumed it was a good sign of the baby getting comfy in its new home as the egg emplanted itself on the uterine wall. Then the bleeding got heavier and we realized that there is such a fine line between “healthy” bleeding and “scary” bleeding. It was hard to know what side we were on, so we searched the Internet for answers.

    There were so many possibilities. Women saying they bled their entire pregnancy yet had a healthy baby, others who had lost a twin but the other baby survived, some who experienced chemical pregnancies, and then of course those mourning the loss of spirit that never came to be. Nothing was clear. The cramping was mild, but who can really tell one person’s pain compared to another? It was hard to self-diagnose and the more we read the more stressed we became.

    The waiting was agony. I sat and watched her curled up in a spiraled fetal position, terrified for the fate of this little being inside her. While a woman gets to experience the great gift of a life growing inside her, she also may sometimes feel a life ending as well. All I wanted to do was cry. Even though we can always look at the metaphysical and biological reasoning for such events, that doesn’t dissolve the pain.

    I felt like we had to do something proactive. We went to the hospital for a blood test hoping to at least learn for sure what was going on. Miscarriages are surprisingly common – a staggering 25% of all pregnancies end that way – yet there is so little we really know about them. The doctor told us it could be a miscarriage, or it could be bleeding, and that there is no way to know unless blood is taken today, and then again in two days to compare the hormone levels. She took another pregnancy test which came up positive, but pregnancy hormones can be present in the body for up to a week after a miscarriage. Everything felt so inconclusive.

    Listening to the uncertainty made me feel outraged. Considering miscarriages are such a huge part of women’s health, why isn’t it a bigger priority in the medical community to understand and preventing? There is a blue pill that wakes up a man’s dead penis, and there is nothing we can do for a baby trying to hold onto life?

    When we got home, The Munch was concerned and wanted to know what was going on.

    Munch: Why did you go to the hospital?
    Toni: Because your Auntie isn’t feeling good, and we needed to make sure she was okay.
    Munch: Why isn’t she feeling good?
    Toni: We are not sure, but something might be wrong with the tiny baby inside her.
    Munch: Is the baby sick?
    Toni: That is what we are trying to find out.
    Munch: Why is the baby sick?
    Toni: Well, sometimes babies get made, but they don’t get to be born.
    Munch: You mean I am never going to get to meet the baby in my Auntie’s tummy?
    Toni: I am not sure yet. We’ll find out on Tuesday. But maybe no, you won’t.
    Munch: Will the baby just stay in her tummy and live there forever?
    Toni: Sort of yes. Part of the baby will live with her forever.
    Munch: That’s good. The baby will be so happy in there.

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    August 11, 2014 • Being Preggo, Mommyhood, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 3615

  • The Expectation of Sex

    When you are in a relationship, there is an expectation that you are going to rub private parts in some sort of a rhythmic fashion relatively often. Part of committing yourself to someone is the guarantee that you can get laid without having to spend a night on the prowl, hunting for someone to fluid bond with. We settle down not only for love, intimacy, and connection – but also so you don’t have to work as hard to get your rocks off.

    Recently, a husband sent his wife a spreadsheet documenting all the times he asked her for sex, and all the times she rejected him. Supposedly he tried to initiate banging 27 times over the course of 7 weeks, and was vetoed all but 3 times – sighting excuses such as “I am gross and sweaty, I am too full and drunk, you are too drunk, I need a shower I am gross, and I am tired.” So this charming husband sent his wife this document of proof, which she in turn uploaded to Reddit for the world to see.

    For me, the most important and relevant question that is not addressed is HOW did this man initiate sex? Did he just pull out his cock and balls and say “how about some of dese nuts?” Did he randomly grab her boob while she was watching TV and expect her to get all randy? Was he wiggling his ass in her face and pointing to his anus while she was unloaded the dishwasher? Context is important! If he was making an actual effort to entice her and she kept shutting him down than I think his frustration is somewhat justified, but if he was just pushing his boner against her ass while she was trying to reach for a glass of water, then come on man…

    There are obviously a lot of “red flags” when it comes to this particular “Microsoft Office” relationship, but I think the spreadsheet is indicative of a problem familiar to many couples. Sometimes one partner wants to boff, and the other isn’t interested. Obviously communication is key when it comes to a healthy sex life, but so is romance and courtship. When you first get together you would never assume sex just because your gonads were enflamed – you would put in a little “one two how’s your father” so the person you desire gets in the mood. In a new relationship you wouldn’t act like sex was a given, and there would be attention to sensuality.

    On the one hand if you have been with someone a long time, you don’t always want to cook a 7-course meal and light enough candles to create a fire hazard for a grind session. Yet there is a middle ground between a weekend Paris and pointing at your junk and grunting “now.” Just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean you own their body, nor does it mean they owe their body to you. When part of a couple it is pretty common that someone will give into sex because they don’t want to reject their lover, not because they are actually interested in getting naked. People pout and get offended when turned down, but we also can be really presumptuous that it is something indebted to us.

    Sex should be a mutual exchange that is rooted in mutual desire. If you aren’t getting it enough, that is probably indicative of other parts of the dynamic that need to be addressed. Long-term monogamy isn’t exactly a recipe for lust, yet it is still important to throw a little game at your lover.

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  • How Did We Get From Wet T-Shirt Contests To Mass Blowies for A Beer?

    When I was 16, I went to Cancun for “spring break.” My friend Liz and I wanted to go somewhere where we could drink and go dancing. Mexico was the perfect solution. Of course our parents wouldn’t let us go un-chaperoned, so my 19-year old brother and a priest were recruited. Seriously, a priest came with us. He was a good friend of my parents and, luckily for us, he was also an alcoholic. The needs of all parties involved were met. Liz’s parents were reassured knowing their daughter was traveling with a priest, while the priest was too hammered to give a fuck about what we were actually doing.

    At that point in time, I had already exposed myself to a fair amount of adult living. I smoked pot, had sex, done acid, been to bars, tried ecstasy, and knew exactly how much to drink before I blacked out. I was no stranger to “party” culture. All we wanted to do in Cancun was find the foam parties and shake our asses to Adina Howard’s “Freak Like Me.” I guess we cared about meeting boys, but not really. We were also still pretty innocent. The trip was more about having fun with each other than a quest to make out with horny dudes, or get laid.

    I saw my first wet t-shirt contest in Cancun. I remember standing in the crowd, thinking “this shit is dumb as fuck.” It wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t authentic – it was like being in a Roman coliseum with a crowd cheering on two men fighting each other to the death. I was surrounded by a primal excitement, but I couldn’t tap into it. I didn’t understand the appeal. All I could think about is “why is that girl doing this?”

    When I was 18, I went to Montreal with my boyfriend and his best friend – again so we could drink without me having to seduce pervy guys on the street to buy me a bottle of crappy liquor. On our way up, I was driving 90 mph in a 60 mph zone and was pulled over. The cop brought me to the local courthouse and the judge threatened jail time for my excessive speeding. The only way I could leave was if we paid the $700 bail. It was all the money we had, save $70 bucks. We didn’t have bank accounts or ATM cards, so we were kind of fucked. We were young and dumb so we paid the bail and went to Montreal anyway. We couldn’t afford a hotel, so decided to spend the night at the only place open all night: a
    strip club.

    Again I faced a cultural phenomenon I couldn’t understand. I get that I am not a man, and far from the intended audience, but still. As I lay my weary head on the cum covered couch all I could think was: “What is going on with these girls? Are they okay?”

    I wasn’t judging the naked ladies. I just couldn’t divorce myself from the empathy of caring about who they were. I was concerned. I saw them as people — not just flapping vaginas. Even though strip clubs are a contained environment and the strippers can make lots of money, they are still symptomatic of a consistently demeaning shadow of our society. At one point in human history, a strip club consisted of a woman showing her ankle and the bottom part of her petticoat. Now it’s commonplace to look directly into her colon.

    Sexual provocation has reached its’ saturation point– at this point, only those shockingly extreme get noticed. I recently read this article which discussed the fact that sexy party games are no longer about a white t-shirt with some nipple exposure, but rather girls giving blow jobs to 20+ guys for a drink. Is this drink made of diamonds?!?! The only way I would ever do that is if said drink was concocted by Nikola Tesla and contained an alternative fuel source that was not only renewable but also so affordable that it would replace our dependency on fossil fuels.

    Again I wondered what is going on with these girls and where is the compassion for them in the midst of this insanity?? Why didn’t anyone step in after seven guys to say: “Seriously girl. That is enough flaccid penis in your mouth for one night. Take a breather.”

    While this subject matter often raises themes around sexual freedom, exploration, and empowerment, I can’t help but think about inequality. Can you imagine a man in tighty-whities dancing on a bar while girls sprayed his crotch with water so the fabric clung to his balls? You would NEVER see a guy licking twenty pussies for a shot of Patron!!

    I guess guys may think “she likes it…” but what if she is just like Mikey, who knew Life cereal was shit, but just wanted to make people happy?

    I don’t consider myself a prude and I acknowledge that people’s sexual preferences vary drastically. Yet I can’t help but wonder how and why things are they way they are. Where is the empathy for women who are shoving two dicks in one ass? How is that sexy and not a moment of horror? I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest girls do things to impress guys more than out of an authentic interest in washing her face with the sperm residue of 17 men.

    I know giving pleasure is a turn-on for many people. Making someone else sexually excited can do the same for you. Fine. Okay. I dig it. I still think there is a stark difference between the genders in these very public moments of sexual activity (even if self-induced). Something doesn’t add up. I don’t buy the argument that men are visual so they are more interested in this type of stimulation. Yeah a schlong and big bongs are kind of funny looking, but that doesn’t explain the discrepancy. Is it as simple as girls like the attention and boys treat them like royalty when they are acting slutty? But what about after they come… how are they treating the girls then?

    I think it has to do more with control. When you don’t feel in control of your own life or feel a sense of autonomy, you look for the other to save, validate, and define you. When you know you can take care of yourself, there is less fear and feelings of desperation. I don’t think women who are financially and emotionally independent are giving out blow jobs to strangers like candy. There is a sense of insecurity which is specific within the female human experience. Maybe because we are physically weaker? Maybe because men are still the keepers of money, power, and politics? Maybe because the psychological impact of having decisions made for us by men for the past 2000+ years still lingers?

    I’m not trying to be divisive or fan the fire of gender wars, but rather wanting to deconstruct a very real and very disturbing aspect of our society. We are living in a digital age when teenagers can not only film several guys in the act of rape, but then make fun of it on Twitter by re-enacting the poses of an unconscious naked girl who was just horribly violated. Sex is neither playful or fun in this context, and it’s getting to a point where we are becoming totally desensitized. Will young girls be shoving a live goat up her pussy for a beer in the near future? Maybe we could start trying to prioritize empathy over exploitation…

    mass-blow-job-blog-(i)

    July 17, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff • Views: 36053