Geek Sex

I think about sex, sexuality, gender, and dating a fair amount, and so I write about it too.

I used to be the co-host of Geek Sex radio show (CFFF 92.7 FM), but after two years and a great listenership, myself and my co-host moved on to other projects and weren't able to continue with the show. It's always been in the back of my mind as a project I'd like to continue, so we'll see where this takes me.

Please feel free to post replies or ask questions; I'll do my best to answer.

I tend to write longish articles, so be forewarned.

I'm 32, white, a woman, a Canadian, and a liberal feminist. I work for a living in the music industry, and am also an actor, singer, and writer.

I have a degree in English Literature, so I'm not exactly qualified to give medical or psychological advice.I'm writing and speaking from my own experience, but it's all opinion.

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Reblogged from 17percent
hauntedwood:

……..
Dear teenage girls of the world,
Maybe in ten more years you will have a wildy successful career. Maybe you will be an activist. Maybe you will have studied something incredibly interesting at school and will be working your way to becoming the leading scholar on that subject. Maybe you will be drafting a proposal to get an important grant that will help the lives of people in your community. Maybe you will become a triathlete. Maybe you will travel the world and meet hundreds of beautiful people. Maybe you will do something that you absolutely never imagined you would ever do as a 16 year old.
Ten years ago I thought I would be married, engaged or having babies by this age. Ten years ago I sat in the hallways of my high school and had a very serious discussion with a girlfriend about why she didn’t want to be one of those “old moms”, and how we should pledge to have babies by the age of 23 and raise them together.
When I was 23, I found myself alone in the middle of a country that was not my home doing things that were so wildly unlike 16 year old me. Like climbing mountains. I climbed my first mountain when I was 23. I did it by myself and the whole time thought, “I can’t believe my life has taken me here.” I felt full of the entire world and capable of anything.
It’s only scary if that is not what you want. At 16, you do not have to pledge to be married, engaged, or have little babies. You do not have to promise that to anyone. It is not inevitable. You do not have to want that. If, in ten years, you are scared by that thought and don’t want it, then don’t do it. Your life will take you a million and one places you never thought it would.
In ten more years you might be married or engaged or having little babies. Or you might not. Either way, I hope whatever you are doing fills you with joy, that you feel like you are full of the entire world and capable of anything. That’s scary.

hauntedwood:

……..

Dear teenage girls of the world,

Maybe in ten more years you will have a wildy successful career. Maybe you will be an activist. Maybe you will have studied something incredibly interesting at school and will be working your way to becoming the leading scholar on that subject. Maybe you will be drafting a proposal to get an important grant that will help the lives of people in your community. Maybe you will become a triathlete. Maybe you will travel the world and meet hundreds of beautiful people. Maybe you will do something that you absolutely never imagined you would ever do as a 16 year old.

Ten years ago I thought I would be married, engaged or having babies by this age. Ten years ago I sat in the hallways of my high school and had a very serious discussion with a girlfriend about why she didn’t want to be one of those “old moms”, and how we should pledge to have babies by the age of 23 and raise them together.

When I was 23, I found myself alone in the middle of a country that was not my home doing things that were so wildly unlike 16 year old me. Like climbing mountains. I climbed my first mountain when I was 23. I did it by myself and the whole time thought, “I can’t believe my life has taken me here.” I felt full of the entire world and capable of anything.

It’s only scary if that is not what you want. At 16, you do not have to pledge to be married, engaged, or have little babies. You do not have to promise that to anyone. It is not inevitable. You do not have to want that. If, in ten years, you are scared by that thought and don’t want it, then don’t do it. Your life will take you a million and one places you never thought it would.

In ten more years you might be married or engaged or having little babies. Or you might not. Either way, I hope whatever you are doing fills you with joy, that you feel like you are full of the entire world and capable of anything. That’s scary.

(Source: 17percent, via hauntedwood-deactivated20110910)

The G Spot

The more I hear about the G Spot, the less convinced I am that it exists. I think it’s the urban legend of female anatomy, a sort of sexual El Dorado.  Scientists can’t agree that it does exist, nor where it is if it does, and many women aren’t able to locate theirs.  I know I can’t.

I’ve had women swear up and down that they have one and have had G spot orgasms that are incredible+, but every single one of those women have also repeated (in the same breathless tones of wonder) unlikely stories that totally happened to their uncle’s chiropractor’s niece.

So, what’s the consensus, Tumblr?  Do any of the women out there swear to the existence of the G spot in their own anatomy? 

I said something about not posting porn here, right?  Well, maybe I won’t make a habit of posting porn, but I will recommend some websites.

Ladies, if you’re anything like me, you enjoy porn but have a hard time finding any that really consistently appeals to you.  I generally don’t go looking much because it takes too long to slog through hours of super-boring porn designed for men (straight or gay) to eventually find that one video or photoshoot that’s actually exciting.

Time after time, people have assured me that women don’t like porn, and don’t want porn, but my own empirical research suggests that that’s bullshit.  Women have a gaze as lustful as any man; if you’ve ever been to a night of male strippers with a bunch of middle-aged ladies you’ll know that women enjoy the naked or partially-naked-wearing-cowboy-boots-and-a-bandanna male form with gusto.  

Anyway, I’ve recently happened upon some good porn/erotica for women; it appeals to me, in any case, so the list is definitely skewed towards straight women. 

Filament - Okay, I haven’t gotten myself a copy of this magazine yet, but the tone of their website (and the sample photos, hotcha!) suggests that I really ought to run out and find myself an issue.  They’re also looking for photo submissions, by the way, and it occurs to me that the market for female-gaze porn and erotica is pretty well wide open at this point.

Naked Men, Happy Women - Their Male Body of the Week feature is awesome, and the articles are written in a way that I find engaging and interesting.

Sex is not the Enemy - A Tumblr account that I just started following - lots of sexy and/or joyous pictures; not exclusively for women, but 

Nightmare Brunette - Posts hot pictures, and also has lots of interesting and thoughtful things to say about sexuality and gender and a whole range of things besides.

Retrodoll - It’s all retro porn and pinup pictures of women, but I find it surprisingly sexy (y’know, for a straight girl who’s ostensibly not into ladies). 

Reblogged from
retrodoll:

Vintage Girlie Mags

It’s kind-of irresistible; I didn’t really intend to post erotica or porn on this Tumblr, but this is pretty hot, and I figure you kids are probably up for it.  And I totally want that bra!

retrodoll:

Vintage Girlie Mags

It’s kind-of irresistible; I didn’t really intend to post erotica or porn on this Tumblr, but this is pretty hot, and I figure you kids are probably up for it.  And I totally want that bra!

What actually angers me about advice on how to snag a man is that it presupposes that we women have to somehow blunt our personalities or curb our intelligence in order to do it.  It also presupposes that men are, essentially, simpletons, whose only desire is for a simpering sex partner and who can’t take a woman who is smart, independent, and interesting.

In other words, what the advice I generally see bandied about seems to be saying is that women are far superior to men, but that we have to pretend to be far more stupid in order to avoid intimidating the poor dears so that we can keep one almost as a workhorse/pet.

I reject this advice because, while it does work, you end up in a relationship with an idiot, where you are playing a role as a further idiot.  That doesn’t sound like my idea of partnered bliss.  It sounds like an eternity of babysitting and façade-maintaining. I know a lot of people who have committed to it, and they look miserable and bitter and bored. And they don’t leave to look for something better, because they’re convinced it doesn’t get any better.  That’s a kind of despair I refuse to buy into.

I’m a person who likes both to challenge and to be challenged; I like wit, intelligence, and defensible opinions.  I don’t like people who agree too readily with me, or who disagree too completely.  I don’t like people whose conversation consists entirely of the tiresome commonplaces that seem to make up most people’s days.  I like brilliant, interesting, challenging people, and I am polite to but don’t have much time for anyone who isn’t.  Life is short: fascinate me or step aside.

I am not afraid of dying alone and being eaten by wolves; I may end my life without a partner, but what does that signify?  If my life ended today, single, it has been so full of loves and adventure that I would be, in many ways, satisfied to say that I have done much with my time.  If my life ends at 97, and I have saddled myself to an idiot with whom I can’t even have a conversation out of a desperate worry that no one better was going to come along, my life would be a failure indeed.  

Because I’m not interested in having kids, I have a little more leisure time when it comes to dating than many women, and less drive to snag a Mr. Right.  But I think that, even if you are interested in having children, you should stop and consider a little more than these books and sexperts (ugh) and snake-oil salespeople are advocating.  If you procreate with a guy, he’s part of your life forever.  You better like him, because you’re not getting rid of him.  Even if he turns out to be a deadbeat dad, and takes off on you and your kids, you’re not going to be able to shake the memory of that bastard.

Do I want to find the man of my dreams and have a fun wedding and live happily ever after?  Yes, I do.  But these books/mavens/etc. aren’t telling me how to find the man of my dreams.  They’re telling me how to find a man to marry, regardless of what my dreams are.  It’s a recipe for misery.

That phrase, Friends with Benefits, has always struck me as monumentally stupid. It sounds like you’ve got friends who work at a company with a dental plan.  
Fuck Buddy is similarly like, douchey and n00bish. It sounds like you’re 15, and you’re not allowed to fuck without a buddy.  Also, water wings.

I sometimes employ the word dating to cover the range of my non-relationshipped activities, which works fine for most situations where sleeping together is inappropriate. I opt for non-cutesy where ever I can; when you’re dealing with your sexuality and your sexual encounters, it seems personally dangerous to infantilize them.  

The exception, of course, is dirty talk, where all bets are off.  That is, if you can keep yourself from laughing at how ridiculous the things you’re saying would sound to someone listening in (usually I can, but y’know?  Sometimes, it’s just too funny). 

Not to say that I’m trying to be cold, clinical, or emotionless.  I sleep with whomever I sleep with because I love them, or I love what we do together, and I love how I feel when we’re together.  I’m very emotionally engaged, and that engagement is non-negotiable. We’re not necessarily relationship material, and sometimes not even friendship material, but there’s some kind of connection that can’t be replaced or invented.   Otherwise, why the hell am I being physically intimate with this person? Just sex, without a real sense of enjoyment, seems empty, and in my opinion veers off into the territory of mental health issues and self-destructive behaviours.

I mean, you do what you like; it’s no skin off of my nose.  But if you aren’t gaining physical, emotional, and mental pleasure from your sexual encounters (yes! All three!), and you aren’t charging money (I respect that), what are you gaining?  

The antique chair that gives an eye-popping insight into Edward VII’s debauched youth
To lend some support to the notion that there are always people willing to spend money on odd things in pursuit of sexy excesses or something, here’s a picture of a chair crafted for England’s Prince Bertie, the future King Edward VII.
According to the article, he used it so that he could have sex with two women at once, though it also seems to imply that it has something to do with Bertie being sort-of a large man (in the waistline, not the wang).  
Until I see a diagram or something of how it was used, I really can’t figure how this one works, though I’d like to think my imagination is as lurid as anyone’s.
Regardless, I think having a sex-chair built for yourself (and stored at your favourite brothel in Paris) trumps Vajazzling pretty soundly.  I know it’s not a physical adornment, but I throw it into the same category of silliness.  Like, fine, go make yourself a sex chair if that turns your crank, but I doubt most people would’ve bothered.

The antique chair that gives an eye-popping insight into Edward VII’s debauched youth

To lend some support to the notion that there are always people willing to spend money on odd things in pursuit of sexy excesses or something, here’s a picture of a chair crafted for England’s Prince Bertie, the future King Edward VII.

According to the article, he used it so that he could have sex with two women at once, though it also seems to imply that it has something to do with Bertie being sort-of a large man (in the waistline, not the wang).  

Until I see a diagram or something of how it was used, I really can’t figure how this one works, though I’d like to think my imagination is as lurid as anyone’s.

Regardless, I think having a sex-chair built for yourself (and stored at your favourite brothel in Paris) trumps Vajazzling pretty soundly.  I know it’s not a physical adornment, but I throw it into the same category of silliness.  Like, fine, go make yourself a sex chair if that turns your crank, but I doubt most people would’ve bothered.

Vajazzling.

So, I heard about it, as did most people, via Jennifer Love Hewitt and the Internet.  And I’ve viewed it with a soft humour - I think it’s silly, and probably expensive and a little uncomfortable.  I like to occasionally bring it up because I bring up the Bedazzler a lot (too often, perhaps) and it’s fun to say and it’s a funny, silly thing and a bit of an Internet in-joke.

I’ve seen people express outrage - generally mild, but not invariably - and I get it, sort-of.  But y’know, it’s not unheard-of for men to bling up their privates either: I’m pretty sure that there was a time in the 20th century where the rich were occasionally ordering gilded penis sheaths for themselves or their lovers (yes, you have permission to say “gilded wha?”). It raises a tonne of questions for me about utility and comfort, but I’ve always associated with the indulgent silly richness of 1920s Hollywood stars.

Vajazzling seems to me very much like this: a silly thing for the idle and overindulged and insufficiently imaginative.  A thing which will quickly become a footnote in sexual history - “so, at one time, apparently people did this thing.”  I think to get all het up about it is to miss the many more interesting and important things to get het up about.  

It’s not something I’d ever go in for, but Jennifer L-H can Vajazzle as she pleases. If a lot of people I know start doing it, I’ll revise my position, but I’d bet $50 that most women are more interested in their pubic hairlessness than their pubic glitteriness.   That concerns me more, but still not unduly.  Yes, yes, the personal is political, but fuck - let ladies follow the promptings of their own souls, vis a vis their beaver.  The personal is also personal.  

If you have a question, please feel free to ask, and I’ll do my best to answer.

I haven’t been very active yet, but please do recommend Geek Sex if you like what you see so far.

You’ll notice, in that last post, I used the phrase ‘set aside my virginity.’  It’s a bit affected, I know, but I want to be super-clear that I didn’t lose it or give it; I lose my keys some times, but I’m not going to happen on my virginity between the couch cushions - thinking to myself ‘Oh there it is! And my hairbrush!’

Similarly, I didn’t give it to my first partner, and he didn’t take it; I can give gifts, or germs, or my opinion, but virginity isn’t something one can really give or take.

I’m also not comfortable saying that I got rid of my virginity; that implies that I was impatient to rid myself of that state, or that it was somehow abhorrent to me, which wasn’t the case.

I came to a point, when I was 18, when I knew that what I was choosing was a good option, a good time to make the choice, a good partner to do it with.  We had talked about it; we had protection, we had a space where we would be uninterrupted, we had time, and we had trust.  It certainly wasn’t the best time I’ve ever had in bed (not even close), but as first times go, it was pretty stellar.  

Prior to that boyfriend, I’d dated a guy who was, well, an idiot.  When I turned 18, he offered with all sincerity to have sex with me as my birthday gift (it both cracks me up and fills me with repulsion to remember it).  Firstly, what a fucking cheapskate; at least get a card, dude.  Secondly, who is that a gift to?  I was so certain that I didn’t ever want to have sex with anyone who would be so stupid as to propose with such a thing that I knew then our relationship was over.  

It’s worth waiting, no matter what your friends say, until you can at least have sex with someone who you won’t look back on as a total idiot or a terrible choice.