Despite vehemently disliking the phrase, I’ve been called a “dirty girl” on multiple occasions by various guys since the beginning of adolescence. I’ve also frequently been told that I have a “dirty mind” because I enjoy thinking and talking about sexual topics. I wonder, why do we refer to sex as “dirty”? (more…)
During last weekend’s torrential snow dump, over a homemade orange Fanta snow slushie and after many hours of binge-watching Sex and the City, I started pondering the differences between men’s and women’s expectations and fears in bed. (more…)
I don’t have any secrets, at least not my own. I prefer to live my life as an open book, with relatively few exceptions (looking at you, current employer). I do, however, consider myself a collector of the secrets of others, which is especially fun when I can partake in those secrets.
Most of my friends don’t know what I’m about to share with the world. Tonight’s juice is about the first time I had penetrative sex. It was during my college years with a trusted partner, and despite the college norm, my first time was actually anal sex, not vaginal. If you want to get technical, the more common name for what I transacted is pegging. (more…)
A couple years ago, I read a book called My Husband Betty, about Helen Boyd learning to cope with her husband’s cross dressing. Back then, I knew very little about cross dressing, but my knowledge repertoire rapidly expanded as I delved headfirst into this page turner. Betty quickly became a favorite guilty pleasure the day I checked her out from my university’s library.
The book began with a description portraying the double standard** of how it’s considered sexy when a woman wears men’s clothes, but not vice versa. If a woman rolls around on a bed wearing nothing but her male lover’s button-down shirt, it sounds like the description of a perfume ad. We say she’s sexy, she’s sensual, and she’s acting out of love. In contrast, if a man did the same thing for the same reasons, wearing nothing but his female lover’s satin dress slip, it would be for grins. People would laugh at him, they’d ridicule him, and they might even threaten him with physical violence.
On a lark, I listed some dirty, old shoes on eBay last summer. Years ago, my collection of shoes hit the 130 mark, and I just don’t have the room (or energy) to love and appreciate most of them anymore. I had heard that it’s possible to make hundreds of bucks on eBay selling used shoes to fetishists, so I figured, hey, why not give it a whirl. I artfully crafted a few listings and crossed my fingers. I mean, I love shoes, shoe fetishists love shoes… boom, instant camaraderie and cash. After all, we’d be looking out for each others’ best interests in a sorta-kinda-almost perverted mutualism, right?
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. (more…)
I was perusing through my old Facebook statuses in search of throwback fodder for this week’s bloggage when I stumbled upon this post from a few years ago.
“I feel like there’s something inherently wrong with our society’s narcissistic obsession with physical beauty when we can claim that someone is “not attractive enough to be naked”. What ever happened to just looking away? I’m not a fan of gazing at sagging buttcheeks or excessive body hair, but I can’t say I’d feel right about assuming the authority to tell people they can’t show their less-than-what-I’d-find-appealing bodies in my presence. Quite frankly, I give major kudos to everyone confident enough to bear to be bare, with or without social approval.” (more…)
Believe it or not, foot fetishism is the most common of all fetishes.
As with other fetishes, most of its population is male — like, upwards of 90% — but a small percentage of foot fetishists do identify as female.
It is also common for foot fetishists to have other fetishes (for objects like shoes, toenail polish, hosiery, etc.) or sexual preferences (for behaviors like submission, domination, crossdressing, etc.) alongside their interests in feet. (more…)
The link below redirects to a powerful, eloquent reflection from a former psychiatric nurse on his personal experiences with depression.
Excerpt: Whenever I hear someone talking about depression or read an article or report in the media, the overwhelming impression given is one of blackness, Churchillian phrases such as “Black Dog” or the ubiquitous “Black Cloud“. Not only are these yet more instances of negative use of the word Black, but do not match my own experience of Depression. To me it has no colour, or at best an opaque nothingness, that couldn’t even be described as shadows or fluctuations of light and dark. (Read more)
As I stated in a comment on his post, part of the reason I’m aspiring to become a therapist rather than a psychiatrist is because of my distrust of the overly-medicated “solutions” to mental health afflictions. I recognize that some mental illness are primarily biological in nature and must be fixed with encapsulated chemical concoctions, but medication intended to artificially alter neurochemicals in order to alleviate emotional dysfunction all too often leads to ignorance of the underlying emotional issues at play.
Crying in public gets a lot of unfavorable attention these days — especially if you’re male and over the age of three or four years — yet is otherwise awesome for your brain. (more…)
I will admit that despite my love of periods, I was grossed out the first time I came across washable maxi pads on Etsy. They were the color of caulk and looked like scraps of fabric salvaged from an old dog bed. Ick.