Cosmocking: June '12!

Blue cover!  Pink!  I mean... er, you know what I mean, there's a picture!  "Where to Meet a Guy in June!" Thanks, Cosmo, for tracking the migration of the flocks of men as they enter their northern nesting grounds!  "When Your Period Makes You Cra-a-zy!" I hate the "ladies be crazy on their periods" meme because I get depressed during my period and I don't like having my efforts to act normal and responsible despite crushing sadness described as "cra-a-zy!"  "Wild Sex Stories! You'll Die When You Read What These 'Normal' Guys Wanted Once Their Pants Hit the Floor!" Ha ha, pervs, serves you right for trusting your sexual partner with your sexual desires!

Order a cheeseburger: There are times when you've just got to order a Quarter Pounder, and that's really attractive.  It shows a girl is laid-back.

I'm all for this!  Except that it's in the same magazine with pages and pages of tummy-firming tips and diet recipes and "eat this not that."  Apparently women are supposed to look to men like they're laid-back about their eating, but God, not actually be laid-back.   Also, have you ever been on a restrictive diet and then suddenly eaten a huge cheeseburger?  It's... well, it's not always glamorous what happens after that.

Experts we spoke to say that you should say no when he asks you to do something you won't enjoy more often than you say yes.

Wow, those must be some really fancy experts.  Somehow Cosmo manages to make a page-long "The One Time to Never Tell Him Yes" article out of "when you don't want to do a thing, tell your boyfriend you don't want to do it."  I mean, I totally agree, it's just... does it have to be justified in terms of love experts and secretly strengthening your bond?  You goddamn well don't want to do it. That's all you need.  You're a person and you get to choose things.

["8 Ways To Send Him Away Screaming"] Use baby talk... in public.  Guys love being verbally castrated in front of other guys--it brings out their feminine side. While you're at it, ask him to pick up some tampons and diet iced tea for you.

Guys.  Real talk.  If you identify as a man, then you're a man.  That's not something you can accidentally lose by doing the wrong thing.  It's not something someone else can take away.  It will not be revoked if you forget to man around like a manly man at all times.  Your manhood is safe.  Fuckin' relax.


Also, I have nothing but the highest respect for a cis guy with tampons in his bathroom.  That doesn't say to me that he's feminized.  It says he expects visitors with uteruses and he thinks things through.

Q. My guy and I have attended lots of weddings, and he won't dance. I know he's self-conscious, but how can I get him to loosen up? 

A. [after dumb "get him drunk" joke"] Many guys feel unmanly on the dance floor, so you'll need to start slow--literally.  Get him to slow-dance with you one night at home, where he won't worry about a crowd watching.  Put on music when you're making dinner one night. Then give him a lingering hug, start swaying, and tell him, "Hey look--you're dancing!"

This is like how you teach a toddler to swim.  Unfortunately, this is not how you teach an adult that it matters to you when they say "I don't want to do this."  Say the guy never dances at a wedding in his entire life--what then?  He's not telling you not to dance. He's not making a scene out of not-dancing.  Why not just let him be his undancing self?  Unfortunately, the secret theme of this month's Cosmo is "people don't get to make choices just because they choose to."

Q. How do I let a new guy who I'm seeing know up front that I am looking for a relationship without freaking him out? 

A. Well, if you say, "I'm looking for something serious" on the first date (or even the second), you'll probably never set eyes on him again, because even men who are looking for a committed relationship will think you're superclingy. [...] If you usually sleep with men after just one or two dates, stop.  [...] Generally men put you in the just-a-hookup category if you give it up early.

So... the way to tell a guy that I want a serious relationship with him and I want to sleep with him is to tell him exactly the opposite at every opportunity.  Boy, that's a solid foundation for a long-term relationship.  You know, once you're past the "I have to have her, she misrepresents herself like a lady" stage, eventually you're going to have to start having relationship negotiations in forward-language, and  isn't it sort of scary to commit to a relationship with no idea whether the two of you are capable of that?

And there's a deep sadness in the message, "You have to hide your true intentions from your date, because he'd be disgusted if he knew how needy and horny you really are on the inside.  Your pathetic human needs are secret shames to bury deeply."

...For some reason I can't stop reading that in the voice of Pinhead.

"My ex was really into having me wear his clothes in bed--button-downs, tee shirts, boxers, that kind of thing. But one evening, he rolled over and said he had always fantasized about me wearing his jockstrap.  Yeah, we didn't last much longer after that."

There's nothing wrong with breaking up with someone because you're uncomfortable with their fetishes.  But the smug, forgone-conclusion tone of this story (like all the other ones in this article--it's full of guys with harmless fetishes and girls going "ewww freeeak") makes me sad.  Like he should've known better than to even ask, because obviously no woman would wear a jockstrap for him.

I would.  I wear men's clothes pretty much exclusively these days, and although boxer-briefs are more my style, I'd totally wear a jockstrap in bed.  Women who are able and willing to indulge various fetishes, who have fetishes of our own, exist.  Telling guys that they're gross for ever asking anyone to play along with their fetishes isn't just cruel, it's flat-out wrong.



It also encourages guys to not ask at all.  If all women are sure to laugh you out of town if you ask "can I lick your armpit?" (another one in the article), and you don't want to live your whole life without ever tasting armpit, the only apparent solution is to pressure, trick, or outright force a woman to go along with it.

One of my core beliefs is that spreading the word that women sometimes do want sex is crucial to explaining why it's important to respect when women don't want sex.  If you think women always just tolerate sex, then forcing them to tolerate it doesn't seem like such a big deal.  And if you think women never really want to indulge fetishes, why would "no, I don't want to indulge your fetishes" slow you down?

[When you go skinny-dipping with a guy] "Forget" to bring a towel for him.  He'll just have to stay naked a little longer.

That'll be one awkward walk back to the parking lot.

Real consent.

tumblr user laceandcombatboots

I'm starting to have a problem with the phrase "enthusiastic consent."  It's well-meant, certainly: it's supposed to connote consent where the person consenting really means it, as opposed to situations where someone says "yes" out of fear or obligation or confusion or some other crappy reason that isn't "actually wanting to have sex."  I'm all for that, obviously, but the phrase sucks.  The phrase implies that you have to be horny to consent to sex, that the only real consent is consent given when not just agreeing to sex but craving it.

The problem is that this doesn't respect the agency of the person consenting.  It ignores the ability of a sober adult to say "I don't want this with my crotch, but I'm agreeing to it with my brain."  It tells people "You say you're consenting, but I know better, you poor dear."  And that's pretty shitty.  As someone who consents to things most people would consider gross or unpleasant (I've heard way too many times a woman can't really want to be punched black and blue) I'm in no position to tell someone else their consent isn't real. If you're unsure if your partner wants it or is just going along with it, lack of enthusiasm definitely means you need to stop and clarify--but it doesn't mean they can't clarify "yes, actually I do want this."

Which is not to say "yes" is a magic word that always makes everything okay.  But what matters isn't "enthusiastic consent" but simply "real consent"--consent that's given freely and sincerely.  Consent that someone gives because they're afraid they'll be physically or emotionally attacked if they don't isn't real consent.  Consent that's given when someone is incapable of understanding what they're agreeing to (because they're drugged, or they're a child, or they're saying "yes" to a different thing than will actually be done to them) isn't real consent.  And obviously consent that's withdrawn or never given at all isn't real consent.



But here are some examples of consent that can be very real, yet not enthusiastic:

• Consent to sex in order to conceive a child.

• Consent to sex or play to make a partner happy.  This is a tricky one, because the line between "I wanted to make them happy" and "I was afraid to make them unhappy" can get messy.  But consent to "I don't think I'll get pleasure from this, but I still want to give pleasure" definitely can be real.

• Consent to sex work. Sex work can be coercive, but it's not inherently, and drawing that line at "sex work is coercive if the sex worker isn't horny" is absurd.

• Consent to sex or play for curiosity's sake, despite a lack of physical desire.

• Consent to sex in a D/s relationship where the submissive agrees to sex they don't want as sex, but do want as an act of submission.



Grown-ups can decide why they want to have sex, and judging those reasons and whether they're "enthusiastic" enough is, frankly, none of my damn business.  All that matters is that they get to decide.

Asking.

I've mentioned a couple times that Rowdy and I, despite being together almost two years now, always ask for consent before sex.  I feel like sometimes that comes off a little pious, a little bit like this unsexy ritual we go through (or claim to go through) so we can achieve ISO 9000 Consent Compliance or something.

The truth is, though, that it's an incredibly simple and casual thing.  I mean, I ask "honey, do you want to go for a walk?" too; I don't just grab him by the arm and start dragging him down the street.  It's natural to ask someone before involving them in an activity.

We ask in different ways, too.

Sometimes we ask casual, and the answer is "well alright, sounds like a good time to me."
Sometimes we ask sexy, and the answer is "oohh God yes please now."
Sometimes we ask silly, and the answer is "yes, but without the ferret, okay?"
Sometimes we ask in whispers, and the answer is "...uh huh."
Sometimes we ask through kisses, and the answer is "mmmfffyesmmmfff"
Sometimes we ask pervy, and the answer is "yes Sir."

Sometimes we ask and the answer is "no."  Most of the time we're okay with that and cheerfully go on to other things.  Other times we're not okay with that and we feel unwanted or deprived or frustrated. But those feelings are still better than the way I'd feel if I realized I'd forced my beloved into something he didn't want.

I don't think I've ever made someone stop desiring me by asking.  I've only found out that they didn't desire me.  And holy shit, am I glad I did!  Whether as serious as keeping me from becoming a rapist or as bittersweet as turning sexual tension into "at least I know now," only good things have ever come from finding out someone doesn't desire me.



I've heard people say it's not sexy to ask.  I can't think of anything sexier than knowing my lover wants me.

I've heard people say it's not romantic to ask.  I can't think of anything less romantic than making your lover decide whether they're going to to yell "stop" at you or push you away or tolerate sex they didn't want.



I've heard people say "consent is sexy," but say it in that resigned sort of way, like "safety is sexy," that doesn't really mean it's boner sexy, just it's something they're sort of trying to promote.  I think they're doing it a goddamn disservice.

For me, consent isn't just sexy.  Consent is the only sexy thing.  My partner's desire, the fact that he wants me and wants this, is the only reason sex is better than masturbation.  I've got dildos, you know? I've got dildos in multiple sizes that vibrate and never go soft.  So my partner's body isn't a big deal to me.  The ego rush, the head rush, the racing heart and the throbbing crotch I get from sex all come from his enthusiastic participation--from the joy and the umf of knowing he wants me and the things he does because he wants me.

So fuck yeah Rowdy and I ask every time.  That's not a chore.  That's when I start getting wet.

Fairly unfair.

Rowdy and I are not officially a mono/poly couple, but we're pretty close these days.  I've only had sex with other people a handful of times this year (so, uh, super monogamous) and no real dates, whereas he's seeing several other people on a regular basis.  More than once he's gone to a sex party while I've stayed home; many, many times he's been on a date with someone else while I've hung out with friends or watched DVDs.

This is awkward, because I used to disapprove of mono/poly relationships.  They struck me as unfair and kind of icky, especially when they were between a polyamorous man and a monogamous woman--"boys will be boys, stand by your man" has all kinds of really nasty sexist implications.  I always worry there's a coercive element, that the man is too jealous to let the woman spread her wings and have her own fun, or that the woman wants monogamy but is too powerless to negotiate for it.  ...And now it's my life.

But here's the choice I was faced with:

A) Run out and date people just to be dating them, so I could go "ha! I'm polyamorous too! our relationship is symmetrical!"  Crappy for me, double crappy for the people I'd be using just to keep my Poly Enlightenment Cred.

or

B) Embrace the asymmetry as something that, despite looking the same as some really shitty unfair situations, works for me.  I don't want other partners right now, I'm happy for my partner that he does, and that's good enough.

So screw fair.  I'll settle for happy.



Our favorite stupid joke to make before sex is "Dude!  I just had an idea how we can both get laid!"  And then we fistbump and go "score, bro!"

That's what being partners really means to me.  It's about beating the system, the ugly sexist system that tries to pit us against each other, and working together to build our own system.  Sometimes it's a messy and patched-together system, the way homebuilt things tend to be, and it takes constant tinkering, but it's custom-fit to us and our weird contradictory ways.  And when it works, god damn do I feel like I'm getting away with something.

Name change.

I'm changing my name!  Yep!  I shall henceforth be known as Cliff Pervocracy.

Details:
a) I'm still going primarily by "Holly" in real life, but I'll answer to "Cliff."
b) My pronoun is still "she."
c) No big deal if you call me "Holly" from time to time. I realize this is an abrupt change, that not everybody reads every post, and I won't be upset or anything.  I expect to be "Holly/Cliff" for a while and that's okay.


Reasons:
a) Anonymity.  "Holly Pervocracy" is too close to my real name (my real name is "Hailey Bervocracy") and I've had some privacy scares recently.  A new name will help maintain the division between my real life and my work/school/family life.

b) Gender, part 1: Holly is a rather unambiguously feminine name, and I am a rather ambiguously feminine person.  I'm more comfortable with a masculine/neutral name.

c) Gender, part 2: I'm curious if my treatment on the Internet will change what I appear male to the casual viewer.  I've heard a lot of stories about women being engaged in discussion when they posted as "X" but treated with condescension or cynicism when they posted as "LadyX," and I'm curious if I'll have experiences mirroring that.

d) Maybe it'll stop skeevy dudes from thinking this blog is a personal ad.  NO I DO NOT WISH TO SEE YOUR PENIS SIR NO THANK YOU.

e) I like the idea of a chosen name.  In my despotic utopian fantasies, everyone would have to change their name (or consciously and explicitly choose to keep their birth name) upon reaching adulthood.  (Or better yet, every ten years.  This would result in a lot of middle-schoolers named Rocketship Dinosaur McExplosion and that's awesome.)  It's such a big and important part of your identity, it seems odd to just go with whatever you were handed.

Especially with what you were handed as a baby, when your parents couldn't know the sort of person you'd grow up to be.  Certain names fit certain sorts of people, and it's hard to predict that fit from a newborn.  "Cliff" is a name that's tough but dorky, macho-outdoorsy until you remember it's short for "Clifford," and that seems to fit me far better than "Holly."



f) The big one: I want to.

I've been having issues with wanting things lately.  Something in my brain, part from my family and part from society and maybe part just me, tells me that simply wanting a thing isn't a good enough reason to do it.  It tells me that wanting is inherently selfish and unbecoming, that wants must always be placed below all other considerations.  I can do a thing because it's healthy, because it's feminist, because it makes other people happy, because it's educational.  I can't do it just because I want to.

(This has not made me a beautifully selfless and giving person.  More "neurotic and passive.")

Honoring our own desires is not something we're taught to do.  It's assumed that kids are balls of cheerfully self-indulgent id already, that all you have to be taught is how not to eat everything and hump everything and name yourself Rocketship.  The lesson on "actually, indulging yourself in safe and considerate ways is not just okay but necessary" never really comes.

So it's something I'm learning as an adult.  I'm learning that eating delicious things makes me healthier than diet-and-shameful-binge cycles.  I'm learning that asking for sex doesn't always get me laid but it has a much better track record than not asking for sex.  I'm learning that when I have the time and money I'm allowed to go out and do silly things.  (Did you know Boston has a trampoline park?!)  I'm learning that well-considered self-indulgence is not half as annoying or gross or immature as allowing yourself to turn into a big bitter ball of frustrated desires.

I've wanted for months to start using this new name, and my "Wanting Isn't Good Enough" brain kept digging up objections.  It'll be inconvenient for people!  It'll be confusing!  It'd be okay to change to a masculine name if you were trans but since you're not then you're not allowed! It's frivolous!  It's self-indulgent.

Damn skippy it's self-indulgent.  It brings me happiness and does nothing else for the world, and that's okay, because bringing me happiness is something real and important.

So call me Cliff.  It'll make me happy. :)

Cosmocking: May '12!

Man, I wish I could write more often. :(
But Cosmo's here, and Cosmocking stops for nothing!

Pink... um, tomato?... er, salmon? ...reddish cover!  Some sort of Kardashian!  Featureless black dress presumably pitched as "slimming" but coming off more like "black hole"!  It's the Sex Issue, although it doesn't have particularly more or different sex than any other issue!  "Feel Great Naked--9 Foods That Burn Fat While You Eat!"  I feel great naked just as fat as I am, thanks!  Also I don't think you will burn fat by eating unless maybe you're eating a lot of ice but I really don't recommend that!

The one word a majority of dudes wish you'd say more during sex: "Harder."

I used to have this problem.  When I was a teenager, I watched too much porn, and I got the idea that "harder" was this generic expression of enthusiasm.  So I'd be having sex and moaning "harder, ohhh, harder," until the poor guy was dripping sweat and crying "for God's sake I can't go any harder."  Took me a while to figure that one out.

Anyway, their poll says 45% wanted to hear "harder," so Cosmo could use a little help with the concept of "majority."  I guess they weren't sure delicate ladybrains could handle "plurality."



There's an article in here by Sandra Fluke about "Why Do Women Need to Speak Up About Birth Control?"  It's awesome and I'm not going to make fun of it.

...And shortly afterwards there's an article about how if your boyfriend is having a bad day you should ask him to open a jar of pickles for you.  Oh Cosmo.

I guess if I don't have a pickle jar around I can just come up and hug him and say "Hey, I know you're feeling sad right now, but your triceps are statistically likely to be slightly stronger than mine."  That'd cheer anyone up.

Make a Hottie Hit on You
[The steps to making a hottie hit on you:]
Rock bold earrings or a shirt with an eye-catching graphic
Do the Cosmo heel dangle
Give him sexy eyes... twice

This issue does have a theme, as it turns out, and it's not sex.  The theme is "the alternate universe where men are incapable of hearing women's voices."

...Wait, that's the theme of every issue.  Shit, they even made it explicit in the last one.  But the "don't meet guys, present yourself for them" thing is really bad here.  Bad to the point where they suggest standing in front of the bar's men's room, because all the guys walk there at some point, therefore you're sure to get picked up.

This isn't socializing advice.  This is product display advice.

How should semen taste and smell? 

Slightly sweet and a bit chlorine-ish.

I think Cosmo's just fucking with us now.

Is there a move I can do to get him extra hard? 

Grab the base of his penis and give it a few firm pumps while talking dirty to him.

Isn't this just the time-honored method of getting a guy regular hard?

And you know, there's nothing wrong with that.  Nobody's born knowing how to work a penis.  A lot of Cosmo readers are pretty young, and learning some basic "works for most people" sex tips might not be the worst thing for them.  (Kinda breaks my heart to think of them getting the "stand outside the bathroom and your Mr. Right will find you" advice, though.)  But why package it as ultra-super-duper-mega-kinky secret sex secrets?

Maybe if Cosmo could admit to their readers (and themselves) that a lot of what they do is actually basic sex ed, they could do it more responsibly than this.

If I don't want to kiss my BF right after he performs oral sex on me, what should I do? 

Kiss other parts of his body--his neck, lower stomach.

In The Terrible Universe Where People Ruin Everything By Talking: "I don't want to kiss on the mouth right now, 'kay? But I'll kiss you here... mm, and here..."

In The Cosmoverse: [turns head away from kiss] [turns head away from other kiss] [tries to kiss boyfriend's neck while he's trying to kiss her, bashes their faces together] [ends up holding boyfriend by the face to try to muscle away from him] [finger accidentally goes up his nose]

I will never understand people who think that talking isn't suave.  Shit, you should see the stuff that happens when you don't.

Why does he always tell me he loves me during sex? 

Chemicals released in his brain make him feel attached.

This is the saddest thing Cosmo has ever printed.

I mean, okay, technically it's correct, although it's also a valid answer to "why does he tell me he loves me during a long serious discussion?"  But I don't think Cosmo meant it like that.  I think they meant it like... God, Cosmo.  That's fucking terrible.

How can I get him to slow the pace when he's on top?
Press your hand against his butt to slow him down.

He's not a horse, Cosmo.

The scene is not safe.

[Trigger warning for rape and BDSM abuse.]

I went to a sex party not long ago.  I talked to a bunch of the members and organizers of the group, and heard all around that they really value consent and they're super aware of feminist issues and the danger of abuse in sex-positive spaces.  I had a pretty good time, met a lot of people, hooked up with a dude, fit a humorous number of naked people people in a bathtub at the same time.

Days later I found out, almost incidentally, that one of the guys at the party had been ostracized from another scene for "some problems."  Some problems with boundaries.  I was a little ticked that no one had identified this guy to me.

Later still, I found out that the guy had raped a woman.

Oh, but, like, she only said he raped her and no one was there to see it and it was really confusing and stuff and anyway what do you want us to do, like, treat the guy like a leper?  He got kicked out of one scene already and that was like a couple years ago and we're trying to help him change and now he's okay as long as someone keeps an eye on him at parties.



Originally I had written a rant here.  I'm angry about this, is the short version.  I'm quite angry.  I'm angry because this isn't the first time I've been around a known abuser and nobody told me; I'm angry because I've been abused under the aegis of BDSM; I'm angry because so damn many of my friends have been abused in the scene; and I'm angry because if I used the guy's name in that story above, I'd be kicked out of the scene.

If you want the long version, Yes Means Yes spells it out here, in a post I think everyone in the BDSM/swinger/sex-positive communities should be reading.

The first step is admitting we have a problem.  And we do have a problem.  I’ll skip to the end: there’s no shortage of stories that start “I was abused” and end “when I tried to say something the community closed ranks around the abuser and I was frozen out.”  It’s happened to friends of mine.  It’s happened in communities where people insist that the community isn’t like that.  And almost always, you have to actually know the participants to know what happened because nobody talks about it.  It’s all secret, there’s no sunlight and no transparency.  You, you out there on the internet, can search blogs until you’re blue in the face for a record of some of these stories, or some indication that you shouldn’t play with some of these people, and you’ll never find it.  Even when “everybody knows,” the “everybody” is very narrow.

And much more.  Go read it.



In the meantime, I like the BDSM scene.  I like the sex-positive scene.  I love that spaces exist where I can be myself and spend time with people like me.  I don't want to leave.  I especially don't want to leave and let the abusers have it.

I also don't know how to fix it. I find the efforts to do so alternately inspiring and utterly frustrating.  I understand the problems that "expose and expel anyone with any accusation against them" would create and yet I hate the default solution of "therefore, keep all abuse secret and consequence-free."  And I also understand that anything framed in terms of accusations is only cleanup after abuse has already happened--a real "fix" would cut down how much it happens in the first place.



I have a few small suggestions that don't require involvement in the question of accusations*:

1. Let new people know the scene is dangerous.  Newcomers shouldn't be hearing "BDSM is all about consent."  Newcomers should be hearing "BDSM should be all about consent, but there are a few people here who won't respect that, and we don't know who they are."  We shouldn't be teaching new people to relax and take it all in stride; we should be teaching them to be wary as hell.  I'd rather feel like I'm scaring people off than feel like I'm luring them in.

2. But don't assume all newcomers are only potential victims; newbie education should also include teaching people how not to become perpetrators.  (I'm going to hopefully write my own thoughts on this soon.)  For three reasons:
a) It may, in fact, prevent some of them from becoming abusers.
b) Seeing things from the other side may make them better at recognizing abuse.
c) It takes away the "I didn't know that was a problem" excuse in a hurry.

3. Make audience-visible consent a part of BDSM classes and demonstrations.  I've seen this done right a few times and wrong a lot more.  Right is when the presenter negotiates with their demo-partner right there in public, or makes it explicit to the audience that they've negotiated privately.  Wrong is when the presenter just jumps right into throwing rope (or whatnot) on their demo-partner, and as far as the audience can perceive, the "consent" is that the demo-partner doesn't safeword or run away.  Wronger than wrong, and not at all rare: the presenter gets "playful" with their demo-partners (or audience members!) in ways that clearly weren't pre-negotiated even in secret.

Taking thirty seconds to make it clear that you always ask, you don't skip it because "it's just a demo" any more than you skip it because "I know they'll like it," would make a big difference in BDSM education.

4. Most parties have special rules that you have to talk to the host about before doing fireplay and bloodplay--the host will direct you to a location where you won't set the house on fire or ruin the carpet, or simply say "no, we don't have facilities for that, this is a no-fireplay party."  We need to have these same rules about resistance and "consensual nonconsent" scenes.  If you're going to do something that looks just the same as abuse, you should be required to run it by the host first.

That way, if a host sees something that looks just the same as abuse, even if they're afraid/unable to shut it down with a "hey, is that consensual?", they have an excuse to shut it down with "hey, you didn't get clearance to do that!"

5. Get survivors to real resources.  I don't think we should be creating internal, informal resources in our community for this.  The "we'll handle everything internally and informally" mindset is how we got in this mess in the first place.  What I do think we should be doing, however, is making a concentrated effort to connect abuse survivors with resources like the following:
The Boston Area Rape Crisis Center
The Network/La Red (GLBTQ- and kink-friendly organization against partner abuse)
The National Leather Association Domestic Violence Project
The National Domestic Violence Hotline
 The National Sexual Assault Online Hotline

And, frankly (although I know damn well the barriers there can be):
The Fucking Police

When people report abuse, we should be referring them to outside, professionally run organizations with trained specialists who can help them through the painfully complex process of decision-making and escape and recovery.  We should not be encouraging them to keep it in the community.  We see everywhere from churches to colleges to the military what happens when abuse survivors are told "we'll handle that internally," and it's always crap.  Let's handle this shit externally for once.



The first step is to admit we have a problem.  So in a way I'm glad to see my community doing that.  Even though it's upsetting and causes a lot of strife in the short term, I'm really happy to see all these conversations about the dark side of the BDSM community coming out in the open.  I just hope we can go from conversations to actual change.



*I really fucking hate saying "accusations," by the way, when I think it's "reports," and I fucking hate acting like it's a big tough question.  As far as I'm concerned I know the vast majority of these accusations are true and that not inviting someone to sex parties is such a mild goddamn punishment we should just fucking do it when we know damn well someone is a fucking rapist.  But I'm never going to sell that opinion to the community.

What am I?

I've gotten a whole bunch of emails lately that read like the following (with various combinations of gender/orientation/activity):

"Hi Holly, 

I'm a man who considers himself straight, but sometimes I imagine being tied up and sucking other men's dicks.  I don't want to date them or have sex with them; I just want to get tied up and suck dick and that's all.  Does this make me gay? Does it make me bi?  Does it make me kinky? Does it make me submissive?

Help me, Holly: what am I?"

So I'm going to answer these questions in one fell swoop here:
You are what you are.

You're a straight man who fantasizes about being tied up and sucking men's dicks.  What else is there to say?  What would a label add, what would it clarify?  Whether you'd like this in reality or leave it in the realm of fantasy, or whether you'd like to do other things with men or with BDSM, can't be answered with a label.

I'm not just telling you that I can't extrapolate from a letter.  (Although, seriously, I can't.)  I'm telling you that most likely you can't extrapolate.  Sexuality isn't symptoms that give you clues to your syndrome; sexuality is the symptoms.

I don't think words like "straight" and "gay" and such are completely useless.  But they're only descriptions.  If you're a man and everyone you've felt attracted to has been female, eh, you might as well call yourself "straight"?  But that doesn't "make" you straight.  It doesn't tell you anything about which women you'll be attracted to, or give you a guarantee you'll never be attracted to any men, and it sure as hell doesn't mean that you "should" be attracted to women.

The people who write me these letters seem very aware of what their fantasies, desires, and actions actually are--much more acutely aware, it seems, than most people who simply have a label.  Frankly, I'd hate to see them trade in this awareness for "I'm a kinky bi man."

---

I don't mean to just give this as advice from on high; it's something I'm wrestling with myself right now.  I've been trying very hard lately to hold the lines of:

-I play because I want to, and this makes me kinky; I don't make myself play because "I'm supposed to be kinky, better live up to it."

-I play with people besides Rowdy sometimes, and this makes me non-monogamous; I don't make myself play with other people because "what kind of crappy non-monogamist am I if I don't fuck this dude?"

Both of these have been struggles. Once you establish the persona as this kinky poly super sexy sex person, it's hard as hell to violate that and say "you know what, I'm just not feelin' it."  The pressure to live up to your labels is both internal and external.  There are times when I really want to relabel myself "kinkyfluid" and "polyfluid" or something, just to emphasize that these are things I do sometimes in some ways; they're not things I've made some sort of commitment to doing.

Fixing the label isn't the real solution, though.  The real solution is to fix the expectation that the label can ever speak for me.



I'm a person who sometimes likes some kinds of kinky play (list available on request) and sometimes likes to play with certain people who aren't my boyfriend (now accepting applications).  That's what I am, and trying to figure out what that "makes me" isn't a recipe for happiness; it's a tragic oversimplification.

Boiling Frogs and Family.

flickr user DonkeyHotey

I spent the weekend with my family.  It was not a pleasant experience.  It was an experience that made me wonder: "How did I ever live with these people for twenty years?"

Because I thought it was normal, of course.

The "boiling frog" experiment goes like this: throw a frog into a pot of boiling water, and of course it'll panic and immediately jump out.  Put a frog in a pot of cold water and slowly raise the temperature, and the frog will boil to death while never noticing anything's wrong.  (This isn't actually true, by the way.  Frogs in real life will jump out when the water gets hot, no matter how slow you go, because frogs are sensible like that.  But it makes a great metaphor.)

And the "boiling family" experiment goes like this: visit a family where every mundane conversation is an emotionally charged battle of wills and passive-aggressive posturing is the only way to express emotions, and you'll think "these people are fucked up!"  Grow up in a family like that, and you'll think "I'm fucked up!"

For a long time, I thought I would never have any social skills.  I just wasn't good at people.  Couldn't make friends, couldn't figure out when or how to talk, kept creeping out or annoying people without understanding why.  Then this weekend I had a little mini-revelation: I was bad at social skills because I never learned any at home.  (I am naturally awkward, but nowhere near as much as I thought I was.)  I had to learn things like "how to make small talk that isn't grossly inappropriate references to suicide" and "how to say what you want instead of giving bizarre hints and then screaming when people don't read your mind" starting at about age eighteen.  No wonder I was in my twenties before I could have such a thing as a casual conversation.



When you're immersed in an environment, especially when you're immersed in it from childhood, it takes a lot of time and distance to realize it was an environment, and not "just life."

It sounds like a sad or angry discovery, but it's kind of a wonderful one, because when you're in the frog-boiler you honestly believe that you're never going to be any happier.  That every relationship you'll have as an adult will be like the ones you grew up with.  That every time, in your entire life, that you knock over a glass of water, you will be screamed at and sometimes slapped for it, and this is right and normal and the only way to avoid it is to never be clumsy ever.

Finding out that this isn't so, that in the real world most people just go "oh darn, I'll get a towel," is one of the giant ongoing joys in my life.  And reorienting myself so that I expect people to go "oh darn, I'll get a towel" is one of the giant challenges in my life.

It's work, and work I definitely have not finished, to shake the habits and ways of coping I learned growing up.  (I still have way too much of the "conflict means violence so hide or cower at the first hint of conflict" stuck in my head, and a little bit of "people only tell you what they want via secret signals so constantly evaluate everything as a signal.")  It's also a tremendous source of power and confidence when I get it right.



...Yeah, I can't really connect this post to sex.  I mean, it's got lots to do with sex, considering how much the shift from "people communicate by incomprehensible hints followed by hissyfits" to "people communicate with goddamn words" has improved my sex life.  But I don't think I can work "vagina" into this one.

My next post will be all about vagina.

Orientation speech.

[Oh God it's been too long since I last posted.  I meant to!  But then I moved into a new house!  It's not far from the old one but it's much nicer and it's also a kink-friendly space.

Which is something I didn't want to be important to me--hey, I'm not "a kinkster," I'm just a person who is kinky!--but it turns out to be huge.  The feeling of having nothing to hide, of being able to tell my roommate honestly about my weekend, of not needing to censor the contents of my room before opening the door, of not needing to constrain the way I interact with my boyfriend in the house... turns out that's not a silly whim.  It's something that takes a gigantic weight off my shoulders.  I feel safe in my home, and I'm just now realizing I didn't before.

...I also didn't feel safe in the old home because apparently my roommate was letting random people shoot up in the house.  I found that out as I was leaving.  Lovely. But not my problem anymore.

Anyway. I only just now got Internet in the new house.  So I've got some posting to do this week!]

This started as a joke.

"Welcome to Holly's vagina!  Please stay seated for this important briefing.

"Very little foreplay is required, but in the event that insufficient moisture is available, artificial lubrication is available in your seat pocket or beneath the seat ahead of you. Make ample use of this lubrication, as it greatly enhances the experience and reflects in no way on your performance or her enthusiasm, and can be used as a floatation device. 

"Roughly one inch above your seat you'll note the clitoris, illuminated with red and white indicator lights.  Tampering with the clitoris is a federal offense and may result in a fine or jail time.  Unauthorized clitoral stimulation will result in delay of our trip, and continuing to manhandle the clitoris and claiming 'but girls like this' may result in cancellation of your ticket. 

"Directly inside the vagina, on the front side, you will find our exclusive The Happy Place™ facility.  Feel free to enjoy The Happy Place™ throughout your trip, but please bear in mind that this facility is designated primarily for rubbing and massaging, and extensive or forceful thrusting in this area may not produce the desired effect.  If at any time during your trip you wish to thrust forcefully, please activate your call light for assistance and we will direct you to the most comfortable positions to do so. 

"In the event of an emergency orgasm, please assist those around you with their orgasms before securing your own, bearing in mind that the plastic bag may not inflate. 

"Enjoy your trip!  You may use approved electronic devices at this time."

Truth is, though, having an orientation spiel for my vagina is damn useful.  Simply sitting down and writing that, airplane jokes and all, clarified things.  To have good sex, it helps to know what you like--and to know what you like, it helps a whole lot to actually put it down in words.

Giving a little speech on The Care And Feeding Of My Vagina is one of those things that seems awkward, until you realize how awkward the alternative is.  Getting someone up to speed on my physical quirks makes the difference between constantly interrupting sex with "whoa no not that" (or worse, politely enduring "whoa no not that" things) and having things just flow.  It's not just about catering to my own needs, either; letting my partner know what's up with my body gives them an idea of where to start and relieves some of their performance anxiety, and it gives them an opening to tell me what's up with their body.

Obviously I wouldn't really do it flight-attendant style?  (Or I might.  Mixing "sexy" and "hilarious" is underrated.  This weekend I watched a couple have a pillowfight while having sex.  It was adorabawesomesexy.)  But I really would make a little speech out of it.  A breathy speech right in my partner's ear, given between deep kisses, with my hand running through their hair, maybe.  Or a cheery, matter-of-fact one over dinner.

...Or one posted on my blog, under the clever guise of talking about how to clarify sexual needs.



Sex for me is a three-step process.
1. Find out what you want.
2. Make sure your partner knows what you want, and you know what they want.
3. Dirty sweaty monkey love.

Step 3 gets all the glamor.  But it's rare chemistry indeed that makes Step 3 just work out without any planning.  The awkward, talky, using-the-word-clitoris-without-giggling process of the first two steps is where the real magic happens.

Why have sex?

Rowdy and I had another little relationship summit last night.  We're trying to make it a monthly thing.  It's quickly gone from "well, that's a little silly, we can talk whenever something comes up" to "oh my God I'm so glad we have a designated time to air everything out."  Doing it once a month also means that the airing-outs are relatively small; with only a month of conflict backlog, there's no big "here's everything about you that bothers me, all at once" emotion-dump.


We had two important discussions at this meeting.  (Well, two that are any of your business.)

The first one went a little like this:

"I feel like we're not having as much sex as I'd like lately."
"Yeah, me too, I'd like to have a lot more sex."
"Really? I haven't been initiating because I thought you weren't interested and I didn't want to pressure you!"
"...I wasn't initiating because I thought you weren't interested and I didn't want to pressure you!"

So that was nice to clear up before our little sexual "who's on first" turned tragic.


The second big discussion came when I whipped out my kink worksheet for us to do together. Again, it seemed a little silly, considering we've been together a year and a half.  And again... turns out we've been together a year and a half and there were still things we didn't know about each other's sexuality.

The most interesting one had very little to do with kink.  Rowdy and I found out that we have sex for completely different reasons.

The question of "why do you want to have sex?"* sometimes sounds silly--because you've got a sex drive, right?  Hormones and stuff.  And because you're attracted to your partner and hopefully like them at least a little. Emotions and stuff.

It sounds self-evident, but when you start asking "okay, so why do you want to have sex, rather than just masturbate for the hormones and cuddle for the emotions?", it gets complicated fast.  And it gets diverse.

In my case, it's about escapism.  I'm a person who spends a lot of time in my head, criticizing and analyzing, and I love something that yanks me out of my head into my body, puts me in the here and now, narrows my focus to nothing but sensation.  For Rowdy, it's about pleasing.  He's very much of a service top and even something of a service fucker--he wants to see me come more than he wants to come.

And for me it's also a little bit about validation--about knowing someone finds me sexy, holy shit, sexy enough to actually fuck, whoa.  (Somehow it's still a surprise.)  And for him it's also a little bit about sensation; a very specific sensation, the muscularity of our play and sex, the whumph of muscle on muscle, the dull thudding impact of fucking.

The sex we had after this little meeting was amazing.  It went whumph and it drove me out of my mind.


So I think "why do you want to have sex?" is a good question to ask your partner and yourself.  When you treat it like a foregone conclusion then it's harder to know exactly what you want out of sex.  When you think "I want it for the usual reasons" it's too easy to have what you assume is the usual sex--instead of your sex.

Plus I just think it's sort of funny: when I tell someone (outside Kinkland) I like to get punched and flogged and thrown around like a ragdoll and kicked in the crotch, the first and most obvious question is "why? what's in that for you?"  But when I tell them I like to have a penis in my vagina, nobody thinks to ask.

Why not?



*All this is assuming that you do want to have sex.  Which shouldn't be a foregone conclusion either.  There's also a universe of reasons to not want sex.

Cosmocking! April '12! Part Two!

Okay, let's get this out of the way so I can write real posts again.  My jaw is finally healing (it seriously was horrible for a while there, I had wounds going down to visible bone in my mouth) and I got no excuse.

Cosmo's idea of "If Men Edited Cosmo." They don't think much of men I guess.

Do Women Wrestlers Know Something We Don't?

...How to wrestle?

(This turns out to just be a bunch of bad metaphors about how you should "never let your guard down" and "roll with the punches" and I think these are actually boxing concepts but whatever.)

You are out with pals and want the last bar stool but the chick in the adjacent chair has her purse hanging off it. Don't ask to sit there--it implies you think you're doing something wrong. Just take the seat.  She'll get the hint to grab her stuff.

Or there's someone sitting there!  For a magazine that tries to project an ultra-sophisticated, master-manipulator facade, Cosmo can be pretty dense about basic human interactions.  Anyway I'm pretty unclear on what happens if I "imply I think I'm doing something wrong."  Total ostracism from human society?

The Crazy Thing My Gyno Said to Me

This is a genuinely disturbing article.  It's a mix of the merely goofy:

"My gyno used a mirror to show me my cervix, which she called my 'pink doughnut.' Gross!"

And the completely inappropriate and borderline criminal:

"While doing an exam, my OB-gyn, his face closer to my hoo-ha than it needed to be, told me how beautifully groomed I was, then patted my butt.  I was so floored, I just mumbled 'thank you' and prayed for the exam to be over."

The upsetting thing is that Cosmo doesn't make any distinction between the two, nor any suggestion that the latter is something that you can take up with the doctor's employer or the state licensing board.  It's just another wacky hijink!  Just another thing that you're expected to put up with and shrug off.  The concept that sometimes shit is wrong and dangerous only exists in the "very special socially aware story of the month" section of Cosmo, and absolutely nowhere else.  Everywhere else, sexual harassment is a hijink.

My guy is small down below but gets really big when he has an erection.  Is this normal?

Yeah, it's called an erection.

The weirder part here, though, is the question of "normal."  I mean, clearly this isn't the symptom of a disease or some horrific genetic defect.  So does it really matter in some big anxiety-provoking way whether "small but gets big" is a common way for penises to be?  Unless you were considering whether to submit him to Ripley's Believe It Or Not, I guess.  Then you definitely want to do some research beforehand.



There wasn't much bad sex advice in this issue.  Cosmo, I am disappointed.  When you don't give me bad sex advice, I'm left with nothing but sexism and social buffoonery.  It gets depressing!  At least tell me something amusing I could do to testicles.

Cosmocking: April '12! Part One!

It's that time again.  (And it's totally Tuesday, just like I promised.  Shhh.)  Thanks to Rowdy and Star for co-Cosmocking!

White cover! Megan Fox! Bizarre giraffe neck pointing a whole different direction than her head, as per Cosmo standard practices!  "Megan Fox: Naughty or Nice? You Decide..." Cosmo, I don't know her!  "What He Wants to See During Sex!" I thought the answer was "a naked person" but it turns out the Cosmo answer is "his own penis"!  Too bad, because having sex can make it really hard to see your penis!

[in the letters section] Wow, the February story "Deadly Decisions: How Smart Women Put Themselves at Risk" opened my eyes. No way will I be heading home alone at night anymore."

Well, that's going to be pretty goddamn inconvenient.  I mean, if you go out with female friends, I guess the last two friends have to have a sleepover so neither of them goes home alone?  And if you go out with a man you have to commit to letting him take you home?  (Which, to take a brief real-world-break here, puts you at far greater risk than walking home alone.)  And if you go out alone that's just unthinkable because woman?

...And if your friends all leave before you then I guess you have to sleep at the bar.

The Naughtiest Thing I've Ever Done: "I hacked his email and then hooked up with his friend"

Cosmo always runs these "Naughtiest Thing" stories and they're always incredibly fucked up.  The one last month was about a girl gaslighting her roommate by secretly moving the roommate's car to illegal spots.  And this month it's about a girl who steals her boyfriend's password (like you do) and finds out that he's cheating on her, so she books a plane flight to the guy's long-distance-best-friend to fuck him.  Without telling the best friend.  I don't mean without telling him about the cheating, I mean without telling him anything.  Her first contact with the guy is a text from the airport:

"I've got the lace panties covered. You might want to pick up some condoms this weekend."

Fortunately, in Cosmoland all men are both indiscriminately horny and mildly psychic, so of course they have  awesome wild revenge-sex, instead of him texting back "I think you sent this to the wrong number. o.0"

Researchers found that the vibration of women's voices are more complex for men to hear, so dudes end up using the part of the brain that interprets music. Translation: You have to be direct, since he may be at a biological disadvantage when it comes to listening--and processing--what you say.

[incomprehensible high-pitched lady noises]

[listening closely, you can make out a strange warbling tune that sounds oddly like the words "FUCK YOU."]

[signs your friend-with-benefits wants to date you:] He lingers in bed postbooty for cuddle time. If he's only in it for the s-e-x, he'll nearly leap off the mattress when you're finished.  Sticking around shows he's into you for more than your bod.

Okay, I get that there are some people who just don't enjoy cuddling, but not cuddling because you think it'll mean you're getting attached? Actually kind of a giant dick move. Guys who spend the entire time trying to keep you at arm's length and protesting "BUT I'M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND" make terrible fuckbuddies.  If you don't have the maturity to trust that your "this is just sex, kay?" negotiations were real and that women aren't all secretly trying to entrap men in their relationship-tentacles, you don't have the maturity to be a fuckbuddy.

Friends with benefits are supposed to be "friends with benefits," not "strangers with body parts."

Girlie Stuff Guys Don't Get

This feature is amazing, because it's not so much misogynistic as just... strangely unfamiliar with basic Earth activities.

Long baths: Lying in a lukewarm tub of your own filth? No thanks.
Bed skirts: Your mattress doesn't need cute clothes.
Emoticons in texts: Typing eight frowny faces after telling us you're running late doesn't make us think you're really sorry. It makes us think you're an emotional wreck.

And so on.  Other impossibly girly things he doesn't get: brunch, tote bags, space heaters, bobby pins, phone cases. I've seen a million "ha ha, frivolous feminine things" articles, but this is the first one to just start naming random household objects and activities.  He's overdoing his misogyny so hard he accidentally overshot women and hit the entire human race.

...Which is a pretty good description of Cosmo in general.



But wait... there's more!  Unfortunately.  But I have an anatomy midterm so I'll finish this later.
(Anatomy: Come on ladies, having body parts? Really? Grow up!)

Brief hiatus.

Why haven't I posted this week?

Because this:

xkcd

I had two badly infected teeth pulled on Monday, and well, without getting graphic, it has not been a smooth recovery.  I've spent the week in a state alternating between Vicodin haze and "oh God I don't want to have a mouth any more."

I'll try and have new content up by Tuesday at the latest.

Five Things You Might Not Know About Contraception.

Contraception's been in the news lately.  Which is so weird.  I mean, it's the 21st century!  We have iPhones and robotic surgery and Roombas and Segways!  How is this even a thing?

In a sense, it's not.  The real issue is "will religious organizations be required to include free contraception in their healthcare plans?" which while still an important issue, isn't at all the same thing as "should contraception even exist?"  And yet it seems to have drawn all the creeps who want to yell "contraception shouldn't exist because SLUTS!" out of the woodwork anyway.

I don't want to expound too much on how I feel about this, because I think it's pretty obvious where I stand.  You think I'm going to spring the anti-birth-control stance on you here?  Seriously.

So instead, I'm going to expound on some relatively little-known, and hopefully useful, facts about birth control.



1. You can use regular birth control pills as an emergency contraceptive.
If you have access to birth control pills but not Plan B, you can take extra pills to prevent pregnancy after having unprotected sex.  Here's a table of the correct dosages.  This is not an abortion method and won't stop an implanted pregnancy, but it's effective for more than just the "morning after"--although sooner is better, emergency contraception can work up to five days after unprotected sex.  (It also doesn't appear to cause any birth defects, so if it doesn't work, keeping the pregnancy and having a healthy child is still an option.)

2. You're probably paying too much for condoms.
Drugstore prices are highway robbery.  (Or at least highway rubbery.)  $15 for a package of 12?  Maybe $10 for the crappy brand?  Yep, still cheaper than diapers, but you can do way better than that.

If you have a credit card and a mailing address, you can buy a giant bag of 100 for less than $19 here.  I can personally vouch for that brand being reliable and comfortable on the vagina side, and I've gotten good reports on the comfort for the penis side.  I can't vouch for these, but they're even cheaper--under $14 for 100.  At that price, you can afford to have sex and make ballon animals.

3. "Pulling out" works better than you think.
Withdrawal has a bad reputation; most people think it's more of a bad joke than a birth control method.  But actually, if it's done correctly, it works better than a sponge or a diaphragm.  Interruptusing your coitus is 96% effective over the course of a year--if you do it right.

That's the catch, though.  Pulling out is trustworthy; penises often are not.  And if you have an "oh oh OHHHHH oh shit" moment, or if there's residual sperm in the urethra, your risk of pregnancy goes up to 27% over the course of a year.  (You can remove residual sperm from your urethra by always peeing before sex and after any time you ejaculate.)  So I don't really recommend this method--except that it is by far the most effective method that requires no money, no drugs, no trips to the doctor or drugstore, no pre-planning.  All you need is your bodies (and some trust and ejaculatory control).  It's not the best birth control method, but it's the best one that you can do entirely on your own.

Note: I am not advising you to rely on withdrawal for contraception.  It is not a very good idea.  It provides no protection from STIs and 27% is not great odds. Condoms can be gotten for free or dirt cheap and they protect you from infection as well as being much more effective protection against pregnancy.

4. Spermicide is way, way, worse than you think.
The pregnancy rate (over a year) with typical use of spermicidal foam/jelly/film is 29%.  That's not great odds.  It's certainly better than nothing (85% risk), but it's worse than condoms (15% typical risk), worse than the pill (8% typical risk), worse than the rhythm method (25% typical risk), even slightly worse than pulling out!

Also, if you have a vagina, using spermicide can put your health at risk.  The most common spermicide is nonoxynol-9, which has been found to increase the risk of HIV, HPV, trichomonas, and vaginosis infections.  Sex workers are 50% more likely to contract HIV if they use nonoxynol-9.  And the reason is nasty--because it can cause ulcers to form in your vagina, which creates open wounds for infection to enter.

As pregnancy prevention, spermicide is crappy, but better than nothing; as infection prevention, spermicide is actually worse than nothing.

5. If you're on birth control pills, you don't get a period.
It certainly seems like you do, at least if you're on the 28-day-cycle kind of pill.  But the "period" you get between pill cycles is not a period at all--it's withdrawal bleeding from the change in hormone levels.  Unlike a true period, there's no uterine lining buildup and no egg in it.  It doesn't perform any cleaning or renewing function. It's just bleeding.

So why do pretty much all conventional (and the most affordable) birth control pills make you bleed every month, if it doesn't serve any purpose?  The answer pretty much comes down to "tradition."  "Normalcy."  I've heard claims it gives users "a sense of well-being," which is slightly hilarious.   Confirmation you're not pregnant--I guess that's nice-ish, but is it really worth a week's worth of cramps and stained underpants?  Ultimately, I might have to chalk this one up to "male doctors."

So calling Lybrel "the birth control where you don't have periods" isn't quite right.  Hormonal methods all stop you from getting a period.  Lybrel is really "the birth control where they don't make you bleed for no reason."

Things I Wish My Sex Ed Teacher Had Taught Me.

I had, by US standards, above-average sex education.  Oh sure, they showed us misleading slides of diseased genitals to try to terrify us out of sex. And sure, they told the girls that we should expect guys to pressure us into sex but that if we had "self-respect" we would always refuse.  And sure, they let the entire class yuck it up during a video on sexual harassment and didn't give a crap if we took it seriously.

(The class reaction to that video was actually a fascinating insight into the stereotypes we held, even as teenagers, on what kinds of harassment are serious and what kinds are sexy/funny/unthinkable.

Video: "Sexual harassment can be male on female,"
Class: [stern silence]
Video: "Female on male,"
Class: [snicker]
Video: "Male on male,"
Class: [laughter]
Video: "Or female on female."
Class: [roaring, pounding on desks, falling out of chairs])

But at least they taught us that contraception exists!  We even had another day where we learned that homosexuality and bisexuality exist.  For public education in the US, that's outstanding sex ed.  In retrospect, someone probably had to fight for that.

And yet it left me, not just lacking in advanced topics, but in the basic understanding of how sex even worked.  I mean, it wasn't until I started watching porn that I understood what an erection was, or that intercourse involved thrusting.  The sex-ed version was so sanitized it had left me honestly thinking men stuffed their soft dicks in women and just sorta stood around until they ejaculated.  This isn't a frivolous pornographic detail.  This is like taking driver's ed and still not knowing about the gas and brake pedals.




So here's some things I wish they'd taught in my sex ed class:
•"I know this is a pretty loaded subject, and a little nervous laughter is okay, but if you're laughing at someone, or if you're making disrespectful remarks, you're out and you can tell the principal what was so funny.  This classroom is not a place to hurt people."

•"Homosexuality and bisexuality don't just exist as some 'other' that you should dutifully tolerate.  Some of the people in this class are gay or bisexual. It may be you. You may or may not know it yet. And all that is okay."

•"Oh hey, you know who else exists? Transsexual, transgendered, and genderqueer people.  They exist too.  Let's make a note of that."

•"Some people want sex more and some people want it less.  These are both normal and okay.  There's nothing wrong with a girl who wants it more or a boy who wants it less."

•"It is not normal or okay to not want sex but to have someone have sex with you anyway.  Whether you're a boy or a girl, even if you didn't stop them from having sex with you, that is not how sex is supposed to go."

•"There's a big debate among adults whether we should teach you about contraception.  So I figure hey, this debate is about you, so you deserve to know about it.  I'm going to teach the controversy! We'll learn the arguments on both sides of this issue and discuss them in class. However, we can't very well have an intelligent discussion on contraception without everyone being on the same page about the basics, so let me give you a quick primer.  This is a condom..."

•"You know what else exists?  Abortion.  I'm not saying you should. I'm just saying that if you're fifteen and you're pregnant and you're not remotely ready to be a parent, you should know this is a thing you can do and have an idea of where to begin the process."

•"Here's a real rough outline of how sexual activity actually works.  It's not lasciviously detailed, but it'll give you the gist.  There's details in there like 'most penises like stroking with a bit of squeeze, but ask your partner to be sure.'  You're going to be doing this at some point in your lives, you ought to know what you're even trying to accomplish."  [I am aware how hilariously impossible this would be to get into a sex-ed curriculum anywhere in the US. I'm just dreaming now.]

•"You can't talk about sex without talking a little bit about love.  Here's some things you should know about love."

•"The most important thing about sex is that it's consensual.  The second most important thing is that it's safe.  Whether you have sex is not important at all."



If you ruled the world, what would you teach kids in sex ed?

A concise kink worksheet.

There's a lot of kink negotiation worksheets out there, and frankly, most of them are a mess.  500-item lists of "animal play (puppy) - rate interest from 1 to 10 or hard limit" and "animal play (pony) - rate interest..." can be interesting ways to learn just what possibilities are out there, but they don't necessarily help you narrow down what you want in a particular scene.

So I've made a kink worksheet that fits on one page.  It assumes you already have a general idea of what you're into, and only need some help condensing and communicating those ideas to your play partner.

The Concise Kink Worksheet! 

(Google Docs PDF)

Notes on use:
•I don't really expect you to write on it; it's more of a jumping-off point for talking and thinking.  It's probably better to talk this over  with your partner than to hand it to them filled out, but, you know, whatever works for you.

•If you're new to kink, it's probably good to think about your answers well in advance of actually playing, when you have a clear head and time to put your thoughts together.

•"I don't know," "maybe," and "let's try it a little and see" are totally acceptable answers.  Don't feel like you have to have a super confident answer to everything.  Knowing that you're not super sure what you want is rarely a dealbreaker, but important for your partner to be aware of.

•It's really a pre-negotiation worksheet; the purpose of these questions to give your partner an idea of where you're coming from and what you're looking for before you work out exactly what's going to happen in your scene.  Once you know these things about each other, it's between the two of you to work out explicitly what you will and won't do in your scene.

Going from "so you don't want to roleplay, do want to use toys, and do want pain" to "so how about I throw you up against that wall and hit you on the ass with the paddle--we'll start slow and see just what you can take" is what happens next.  That's the fun part of negotiation and it can turn damn sexy.

•Clear, explicit scene negotiation is a cornerstone of consent culture in BDSM.  A lot of the recent talk has been about flushing out serial abusers, but equally important is making sure that well-intentioned people don't hurt each other through miscommunications or assumptions.  A cute little worksheet won't guarantee that but I hope it helps.



...Not-kinky people, I will write a totally not-just-kink sex post next.  I have not forgotten you!
...Why am I apologizing for being kinky?  This blog is called The Pervocracy.
...But nonetheless.  I don't intend to be all BDSM inside baseball, any more than I'm all gender or all politics.  I value diversity in my perversity.

Why I didn't just call the cops.

[MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for the nitty-gritty of sexual assault and aftermath. This is not a happy post and it's not one I really wanted to write.  But it's one that a lot of people seem to need to read.]


There's been a lot of talk lately in my local BDSM scene about how to make the scene a safer place.  Which is an awesome thing, but it's depressing to see the pushback it's been getting.  (If I felt safe before, I wouldn't now, not knowing how many people around me like to play the "but if you don't do XYZ then you're to blame if you get raped!" game.)  And one part of that pushback is "hey, public safety isn't our job; if someone has a problem they should go to the police."

This isn't limited to the BDSM scene.  I've heard this elsewhere in discussions of sexual abuse.  Formally report or you have no right to complain.  Formally report or you're to blame for their next victim.  Formally report or it probably didn't even happen.

Like it's that easy.

So I'm going to explain in agonizing detail how I was assaulted by a guy in a BDSM scene, and why I didn't go to the cops.  And I hope this makes a difference to all the people who think "if someone assaults you call the cops" is the be-all-end-all of stopping sexual assault.



The guy was Benny, we'd been sleeping and playing together for a couple years, and he had been throwing up the flaggiest of red flags for a long time.  He'd already done things to me without my permission.  That's putting it lightly.  I mean that I'd said no (last paragraph) and he'd gone ahead and stuck his dick in me.  Which is... I guess it's rape right there?  But I didn't even register that.  At the time it just seemed like... a thing that happened.  I told him "no," he penetrated me anyway, I was like "whoa whoa whoa hey," more annoyed than scared, and in a second he stopped.  It seemed more like an awkward, uncomfortable misunderstanding.  Like someone giving you a noogie even though you're going "hey no."

Which is why I don't believe in giving people noogies if they don't want it, by the way. Sets a bad precedent.

REASON 1: Sometimes assault doesn't "feel like assault." A million movies and news reports had conditioned me to the idea that assault is big and loud and dramatic, that there's always blood and bruises and screaming.  The idea that something quiet and weird and awkward could be literally rape didn't occur to me.  And maybe you can argue that a guy shouldn't go to jail for something that didn't traumatize me, but that's only from my point of view.  From his point of view he had a woman saying "no" and he stuck his dick in her anyway. 

To say that's not rape because I didn't start screaming is like saying it's not theft if you snatch someone's purse and they say "oh well, these things happen, I suppose I can live without that purse."

What did bother me was the time he convinced me to let him come on my face, telling me it would be totally sexy and awesome and badass of me, and then as soon as he'd come he burst out in laughter at how ridiculous I looked with come all over my face like some stupid whore.

What did bother me was the time he fingered me, I had a blindfold on, and I didn't realize I was starting my period.  He stuffed my blood in my mouth and smeared it on my face without telling me what it was, then took the blindfold off, told me to look in the mirror, and cackled with glee at my predicament.

What did bother me was the increasing frequency with which he played the hold-down game.  The way this game worked was that we'd be lying in bed together and he'd roll over on top of me and not let me move.  He wouldn't do anything to me, just use his size (he had a full foot and 100 pounds on me) to hold me down until he decided to let me up.  Which could be a while.  I'd beg him, I'd try to hit him, I'd "no, seriously, it's not funny, seriously let me go" him, I'd even try reverse psychology and just go limp, and he'd just laugh and keep holding me down until he felt like giving my body back.

REASON 2: I blamed myself and expected to be blamed. So this isn't one of those cases where a nice guy turned into a monster out of the blue.  This is a case where I had a million red flags and I ignored or excused or "that's just his way"ed them.  Was this stupid of me?  HELL YES!  Is sexual assault a fair punishment for being stupid?  FUCK NO.  But because there had been those warning signs, I felt like I had it coming, felt like anyone I told would ask "why did you keep seeing him?" and I would have no answer, and felt like I had no right to report a crime that I had "contributed" to by not avoiding. 

I'd heard (and continue to hear, and future victims are hearing it right now) the same things said about a million rape victims before me.

And then eventually he crossed a line I couldn't forgive or ignore.  I was at his house, late at night, with only one purpose, the only reason I kept seeing him: filthy kinky sex.

REASON 3: Slut! There's a lot of shame in being a woman who goes to men's houses late at night with only one purpose.  Even without the red flags, that alone is enough to get a lot of people saying "well, what did she expect?" 

REASON 4: I said "yes." I did agree to have sex with Benny that night. And there's a huge number of people (some of them cops or jurors) who think that consent to sex is consent to anything, and you don't get to say no once you've said yes.  Or if you do it's only rape by some finicky feminist definition, only "gray rape," not in the same category as "rape-rape."

So he tied me up, spread-eagle to the four corners of the bed, saying he was going to finger me and get me off while I was tied.

REASON 5: Kinky shit.  So how do you explain this to a cop: "Yeah, I said he could tie me up naked, but not tie me up naked and hurt me!"  We're in a cultural atmosphere where most people think going to a guy's room is consent to anything he might do to you; what were my odds of explaining that letting him tie me up was not blanket consent? 

REASON 6: Kinky "crazy" shit. One of the more common stereotypes about women who do kink (especially who bottom in kink)--one I've had people say to my face when they didn't know I was kinky--is that we're "crazy."  Unpredictable, irrational, damaged goods, you know, "crazy."  And it's a widely accepted fact in the misogynist community that a "crazy" woman will make an accusation of rape for no good reason, just because she's so "crazy."  That's not shit I wanted to face.

REASON 7: The kinky shit community. The kink community talks big about consent, but they also talk big about not having "drama".  Calling the cops is the ultimate drama, and if I went back to the kink community after that, I'd very likely get the reputation of "holy shit, she didn't like a scene so she called the cops on her top!" 

That's kink-specific, this isn't: the kink community contains most of my friends and it's a major source of emotional support in my life.  Having a considerable proportion of my friends turn against me when I needed friends the most--that would not be an easy thing to get through.

REASON 8: Kinky shit exposure. If I pressed charges, inevitably everyone in my life would find out about it and the circumstances.  Which would be... not good.  Not good for my relationship with my family. Not good for my job.  Not good with my roommates.  Not good for a large chunk of my future.

Things weren't going well from the start.  I wasn't really into the sex and it was obvious; usually I get off easy and this time I was just tense and uncomfortable and kinda muttering "okay, this isn't working, maybe I should just... I mean maybe we could... can we take a break? Maybe?"

REASON 9: Mixed signals. "Did you actually say 'no' to him when you started feeling pain, Ms. Pervocracy?" "Er... I said maybe could we maybe take a break."

He did not take a break.  He tried to shove his entire fist into me.  I've been fisted and liked it, but this was dry and sudden and forceful.  It was his resentment for me not being a good fuck, for me not moaning and writhing and telling him how amazing he was, balled into a fist and shoved into my vagina.  It hurt.  Fuck it hurt.

I said "red" and he didn't stop.  I said "red, safeword, stop, ow" and he didn't stop.  Like when he was holding me down, this was going to end on his time.  He kept going and I kept saying "no, really, fucking red, fucking stop." I wasn't screaming or yelling--I was feeling weirdly calm, practical, a sense of "do what you need to do now, panic later"--but I was definitely not unclear.  Eventually he did stop.  I looked down to see if there was blood on his hands but I think there wasn't.

He stepped away, but left me tied up.  He went to the bathroom and started washing his hands.  I asked him to untie me.  He laughed and said "if you're tied up, you're at my mercy."

That's when I screamed.  I screamed "YOU FUCKING UNTIE ME RIGHT NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING FUCK LET ME FUCKING GO FUUUUUCK" or words to that effect.  And then I screamed "I'M GOING TO SCREAM UNTIL THE NEIGHBORS HEAR" and he untied me.

And then... I didn't dash out of the house crying.  I didn't attack him.  I didn't grab my phone and call 911.  I got dressed and I talked to him.  Not even "what the fuck just happened?" talked to him.  I just said "hey, this sex thing isn't working out, you know."

He said "yeah, I know.  But we had a good run there. We'll stay friends."

And then I left.  Still not crying, still not acting "traumatized" whatever that looks like, still not calling the cops.

REASON 10: Aftermath. I think I had a brief chance there to be a Proper Rape Victim and I totally blew it.  If I'd gone right to the cops, right to the hospital, maybe I would have stood a chance of being taken seriously?  But I didn't.  I didn't even think of it as sexual assault at the time.  I wrote a blog post right afterwards in which it's clear that I'm angry and shaken up but in which I don't call it sexual assault. 

Going back after a space of time, and saying "no, wait, I realized it really was assault" fits the misogynist idea of the woman who "changes her mind" or "has regrets" just a little too perfectly. 

REASON 11: Doubt.  Was this bad enough to put someone in jail over?  I mean, jail, that's a really big deal.  That's gonna make him lose his job--and he had a good job!--and really ruin his life.  From when I started saying "no" to when he untied me was, I don't know, five minutes tops.  Can I justify ruining someone's entire life over something that only lasted five minutes?  To be honest, even now I can't give an unconflicted "yes" to that question.

REASON 12: Retribution.  Benny had a lot of friends.  I didn't know them well.  I'm sure most of them thought of Benny as the kind of guy who would never hurt anyone.  I'm sure they would take his side if some random girl made some random accusation against him.  What I'm not sure of is how far "taking his side" would go. Maybe they'd just quietly hate me.  Or maybe they'd come to my house at night.  I don't know.

So I went home. I wrote my little blog post. I went to sleep.  Went to work in the morning.  Sat a little funny the next couple days. Got angry or sad a few times. Life went on.

REASON 13: It's over.  I never saw Benny again.  As far as I was concerned, that chapter in my life was closed.  Reporting would mean reopening it, rubbing my nose back in the absolute worst parts of it for weeks or months.  It would mean extending the ordeal from "got assaulted" to "got assaulted, got interrogated about it, got a pelvic exam, got interrogated again, went to court, got interrogated again," and what would I have at the end?  At best, the very mixed (see Reason 11) satisfaction of punishing Benny.  Quite likely, nothing at all.  For that kind of risk-reward, I might as well just let it go. 

Some of the stuff I've listed above may sound kinda trivial, or kinda theoretical, kinda like I'm worrying too much what people will think.  But it's stuff that if I reported, I'd have to face all at once, all the time, for a long-ass time until my life was normal again.  If I didn't report, my life would be normal again right away.

Finally, I just want to say: These are reasons, not justifications. You might see some of these and think "but that's not right, actually that thing you're worried about wouldn't have happened" or "but this doesn't add up, you still should have reported!"  And fuck, you may be right.  But these are the things that went through my head during and after my sexual assault.  These are not reasons I shouldn't have reported the assault.  These are reasons I didn't.

Is there one big fix for all of this, one way to make sexual assault super easy and simple to report?  I dunno.  I doubt it.  Or if there is it's a big, massive, culture-changing fix.  I don't have time to get into it in this post.  I just wanted to answer the question "Why don't sexual assault victims just go to the cops?"

So yeah, there are a few reasons.