My favorite aspect of my most recent romantic relationship was our level of communication. Both he and I are exemplary at interpersonal communication in romantic contexts, and one of best ways we kept our relationship fortified was with three simple words: (more…)
Listening to the radio the other morning, a woman explained how her boyfriend recently caught her cheating on him — twice, in the same day. She and he shared a studio apartment, and he came back during his lunch break one afternoon to find her having sex with someone. He left the scene and returned to work, only to come home hours later to find her having sex with a different person. (more…)
I hate that phrase. Oh, how I hate that phrase. To caution someone to not interpret something “the wrong way” is to imply that there is a “right way” to think: the speaker’s way. The phrase assumes a position of entitlement that blames the listener for not understanding the speaker’s intention. But, that’s just it. (more…)
A friendquaintance recently propositioned me for casual sex. He and I hadn’t spoken in a long time and had a few phone calls to sorta-kinda reconnect, where we discussed our mutual physical attraction toward each other that had built over the past few years. However, I was explicit in the reasons that I would not be consenting to sex, first and foremost for the damage that it would cause to one of my other, much closer friendships, but also because I did not think he and I were sexually compatible. We’re both very dominant in bed, and I foresaw an obnoxious power struggle that was worth neither my energy nor traumatizing my aforereferenced friendship. (more…)
This past weekend, a friend and I attended the 8th Annual Careers in Sexuality Conference at Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania. Although the event was geared largely toward aspiring sex educators, there was so much insight to absorb on a general level. Besides, two of the presenters wore dog collars. Dog collars! How cool is that?!
Since the last time I visited the Hirshhorn Museum in D.C. a few years ago, which was the first time I’d been since I was maybe seven years old, one work of art has remained fixated in my mind and left within me a lasting, emotional impression.
Big Man, by Ron Mueck, is a larger-than-life sculpture of a round, hunched, naked, scowling man. In person, I found him to be breathtaking. He bears a look of tired frustration across his brow and jaw, and fleshy curves across his abdomen. His skin is wrinkled, dimpled, and splotched.
In college, I was once in a class of mostly women and found myself inexplicably drawn to one classmate. She had a feminine name by birth, but her friends called her by a masculine nickname, which I thought was awesomely badass. While I didn’t know enough about her to be attracted to her personality, she was visually captivating. Something about her harmonic voice, sweet smile, svelte figure, and soft, highlighted blonde curls regularly captured my attention. I used to feel myself blushing when we would occasionally make eye contact. (more…)
Yesterday when I came home from work, my mom confronted me. She told me that she read my previous post this week — the first post I have publicly shared on Facebook — not to be nosy, but to inspect my grammar. She then noticed a few of my racier titles and wound up reading more personal, intimate articles, like the first time I had intercourse. I was flattered when she whimsically compared me to the legendary Samantha Jones, though I express my sexuality far too lazily to be anywhere near Samantha’s reputation.
What my mom saw inspired both a disturbed horror and curiosity, especially for someone of her generation. (more…)
Recently, someone remarked that I date pathetic men. To my ex-partners who may be reading this, I certainly don’t think any of you are pathetic, and I apologize that this person has perceived you as such. While I bear a strong preference for sexually-inexperienced men who prefer to play an exclusively submissive role in intimate relationships and have ample emotional baggage, I would like to clarify to onlookers that fewer than half of the men I’ve dated meet these qualifiers.
My feelings aside, that comment got me thinking — what does it mean to be a pathetic man in our society? (more…)
A friend was fingering me the other day and evoked from my body an orgasm like none I have ever felt before. It was through explaining my experience to another friend that I learned that I’d had my first g-spot orgasm — or, at least, my first one strong enough to get my attention.
My partner and I discovered this pleasure on accident. I perched my gently shivering vibrator against my clitoris, as usual, but instead of the standard external fingering I prefer, my partner and I took advantage of the convenient receptiveness that my vagina presented that afternoon to spelunk inside me.