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In science there is a constant debate over whether or not the G-spot orgasm actually exists. Think of it as a vaginal witch-hunt. I know, science can send a particle faster than the speed of light  but they can’t confirm my orgasm.

Well…my maybe-orgasm. I think I’ve had a g-spot orgasm. Maybe. I’m not really sure, even as it is happening. And I hear this from my friends too: G-spot orgasms don’t feel like clitoral orgasms. They are different, or something.

But somewhere along the way I got the message that this is how I should be getting off. (Thanks science?) Partly, this message– and the research backing it–  has a very hetero seeming PiV-obsessed agenda (Jesus <3  penis-sex.) But there is also a glossy magazine sex-positive liberalism here too. (The Beverly Whipple school.) And either way, it isn’t helping.

Being in my late teens and identifying as sex positive, I started to feel like being truly liberated meant getting off in every way imaginable, but especially the g-spot way. I also felt like I should be exploring anal sex and viewing porn competitively, as though I was training for the jack-off Olympics. I had fabricated some super sex version of myself—- a manic pixie haired  feminist whose imaginary sex positive life I had to live up to.

So, I obsessively read articles on the g-spot (a come hither motion with the fingers, ooh lala)  (a small walnut?? what?) I even watched a film about squirting, hoping to discover my maniac pixie-cum potion. “See, like that, feel that?” A sex partner might say, who was trying to help me out.“Yeah…” my voice would be unsure, I’d probably be frowning, “I kinda feel like I have to pee”.

I thought, if I were really that sex possie pixie haired girl, I would have probably relaxed into the pee feeling. Who cares if she actually pees! Her queefs are cute and hilarious!

But because I am an actual human, my sex life looked like me being in my head feeling feelings and thinking things like: “I am totally not going to orgasm until like the fifth time we have sex..”

But then randomly, during penetration… holy shit was that my g-spot he was hitting? It built to a sort of plateau then came back down. I moaned, it  felt good but I was confused. “Did you just have an orgasm” he asked? “Yes? I think so?” Was this it? Or was I faking it without even realizing it? It happened a few more times, this maybe orgasm. But now I was in my head so much that they stopped happening at all.

My friend Faith may be that maniac sex positive dream girl. (I mean that in the best way.) She throws kissing parties and hosts masked bang-gangs. On her Facebook profile photo she wears heart shaped pasties and a lace mask. I instant message her and ask what she thinks about my maybe go-spot orgasms: “You feel the build up and it feels good, why would you second guess that? It can be hard to let go emotionally, and even physically, but if you push through a you can exhaust yourself to immobility and complete wetness.”

Why second guess myself? Well… isn’t that what this science and the media coverage is making me do? As much as I like science about sexuality and our bodies, the whole thing feels like rumination. It also points out how little women are made to feel at ease their bodies, if there were such doubt cast over the clitoral orgasm, would I would wonder if that was real too?

So much of sex is not logical. Sex is whatever you feel and what you make it. It is weird and dreamy and in your head. And when I’ve been able to have them, I have enjoyed the maybe-maybe-not orgasms. Whatever they are, they are real to me. So I guess that is what matters. Probably?

What are your experiences with g-spot orgasms? Have you had a maybe-one? Does it matter?

50 Shades of Gray is truly the gift to sex writers that never stops giving us time-pegs. Weeks ago for TheFrisky I wrote a guide to dipping your perfectly manicured (not-at-all-creepy) toe into the world of BDSM, with it’s sounds of German Industrial music and gallons of lube. Okay, I am trying to scare you. But (if you want) you can avoid dog-collars and guys who call themselves “Master DragonBallZ”–I promise.

Here are a few (bonus) ideas that didn’t make it into the piece, from sexologist Carol Queen and BDSM sex educators Maggie Mayhem and Mollena Williams and Kitty Stryker on how to get a little kink in your relationship.

What do you even do? Maggie suggests you brainstorm it out. “Think back on the (kinky) sexual images that have turned you on. What elements stick out and what parts you could do without? Is your goal to feel the physical sensations involved in a particular act or are you more interesting in the emotional side of the fantasy?”

How should you start? Shocker? Spanking (and all other sexy time acts) feel way better when you are turned on. “Start with the kind of sex you like that gets you going. If it turns out that you are turned on and into the spanking, it can be foreplay in the future, but for now, do something else that will be foreplay for it”" says Carol.

What does your partner want? Carol suggests the Exchanging Fantasies Game.  Together with your partner, make three lists: “One is the things you know you like or definitely want to try; the second is maybes; the third is Oh Hell No. Both partners make the lists and then compare — the yes list items on both people’s lists are a great place to begin.”

I also suggest the Seven Matrices of Submission a scale I’ve blogged about that helps subs figure out what they like and don’t like. And check out Debby Herbenick’s list of 60 things to do with a partner. Print them out, fill out separately and them come together with your lists. From here, I recommend making some “action” items, things to put on your sexual-to-do-list.

But wait, one more time, what does being kinky mean you actually do? All of the educators interviewed agree that role-play is a good start. Mollena Williams suggests starting with things that don’t require big props or purchases: “Can you do a role-play where one person gives all of the orders that night? Maybe a playful spanking if the obeying partner doesn’t obey fast enough?”

Or maybe blindfold (and/or tie up) your partner and tantalize their senses. Maggie suggests bringing “a surprise tray of fruit, wine, chocolate. There are the obvious sexual acts but you can also play with senses in other ways: rub your partner’s body with furry, feather-y things, line up scary looking dull kitchen utensils to graze over their skin, use ice cubes. How about ear-plugs or a white noise generator for further sensory deprivation?

Consent is Sexy. Kitty Stryker along with Maggie Mayhem started Consent Culture– a workshop series on consent. Stryker suggests BDSM players (and everyone really) learn something about body language. “If you are asking someone to do something with you, but  their arms are crossed and they are looking away they might mean ‘no’ even if they say ‘sure’.  We talk so much about verbal consent, but non verbal consent is important too.”

“And if someone says ‘no’ the best thing to do is smile at them and say ‘thank you for taking care of yourself’” adds Kitty. Additionally, Maggie suggests coming up with hand-signals in addition to safe-words.

If you really want to try things, workshops and books are probably the best way to get started. Here are  Carol Queen’s  picks for books to check out:

Sadomasochism: How to Talk About It and How to Do it Safely by William Henkin and Sybil Holliday
The Topping Book by Janet Hardy and Dossie Easton
The Bottoming Book, same authors.
Especially great for beginners:
Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns: The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism by Molly Devon and Philip Miller
Sensuous Magic by Patrick Califia.

Oh hiiii. So, okay, I am writing over at Jezebel!

Here are some things I’ve written so far, which you should definitely click on and read and enjoy:

• Phone Sex still Exists? And people still make Money from it?
• Backpage isn’t the problem, say Sex Workers
• How does Ovulation Affect a Strippers Income? Oh wait, it doesn’t.
• Woman wants to have sex with Animals, Reddit Strangely okay with That
• Asexuality in the Mainstream: Some People Don’t Want to Have Sex.
• Female Clown Porn Pioneer goes Through Chemo. Also Clown Porn is a Thing. 

I would love to talk with you guys about these topics. I mean, I had to think about whether not I consider bestiality to be wrong. Which was strangely, kinda hard.

Zoophilia (or bestiality if you’re nasty?) is — I think safe to say — considered an act of sexual deviance. Just, you know, one of the worst things human being can do sexually. No big deal. But we have solid reasoning. Animals can’t consent, and sex positivity worships at the altar of consent; consent is our idea of what healthy sexuality looks like.

And yet strangely, the female bestisexual seems pretty accepted by the Redditors. One commenter says, “I just want to say you have my support. Rock on, freaky girl. We need more people like you.” 

Not to get all Pervy Carrie Bradshaw on you guys, but reading the thread, I couldn’t help but wonder: What would the response have been if she were a guy?

So, this was–oddly–hard because I don’t think fantasy is wrong, necessarily. And also, there is the whole eating meat thing. Right? I implored you guys on twitter and one woman sent me her snake fantasies. She wrote: “ A woman fucking a carpet python? Erotic. I read Emmanuelle and remember a scene where a stripper fucks a white python. To my mind, bestiality is purely women being fucked by male animals, or phallic shaped animals, while if a man fucks an animal, that’s just sex, or more likely, rape.”

I get what she is saying about the fantasy thing. And hearing her describe it doesn’t even seem that creepy. But again– the whole acting on it thing? Total-no-go.

Also–interesting about bestiality being considered morally okay with laaaaydies, no? This is what I found so strange about the Reddit thing. With Reddit, I wrote it off as a part of their sexist-culture. But maybe idea is more pervasive than I thought…

Okay, so follow me on twitter to keep up with what I am writing over at Jezebel–and also, don’t worry this blog isn’t going anywhere.

Now anyone want to discuss sex-with-animal fetishes?  I realize I used a photo of a cat in this post. For that, I apologize

Photog Eliot Lee Hazel (thanks for the tip off, anon!)

So, I got “erotically hypnotized” and wrote a story about it for The New York Observer. The story is in the paper (on news stands now) and all you New Yorkers should totally pick up a copy. Promise?

Okay, well the story is online too.

Here is an excerpt:

My own interest in the subject started where basically everything does, online. I clicked something, and something else, and soon I was knee-deep in YouTube videos of Eastern European models entranced by men in bowling shirts, hypnosis blogs… and forums filled with arguments about proper technique. From what I could gather, erotic hypnosis is a fetish, but if its proponents are right, it is also a new form of sex—safe, certainly, but also dangerous-seeming in its own way. Under hypnosis, it was claimed, a subject could achieve a climax without being touched at all. It sounded a little like Erica Jong’s “zipless fuck,” but better. Sex without the muss or fuss, or, for that matter, the pregnancies, STDs or awkward goodbyes. It’s also a twist on BDSM, an expression of sexual power and submission at its most extreme.

On Fet-Life (a “kinky” social networking service), there are 12,490 people who are “Into” or “Curious about” erotic hypnosis—a one-click function similar to the Facebook “like” button. The Hypnosis New York group has 324 members and hosts monthly four-hour meetings.

Arriving at the prescribed location, a rehearsal space in Tribeca, I approached the receptionist. She looked like an actress. “I am here for erotic hypnosis,” I said, trying to articulate clearly, but not too clearly. She motioned to a cluster of cargo shorts and wiry hair, mostly male. My classmates looked like they might have been to ComicCon, which shouldn’t be surprising, since mind control is such a favorite technique of superheroes (and supervillains). They seemed to be staring at me, perhaps surprised to see a young new female student and wondering, since I was flying solo, whether I might be a potential homework partner.

Or maybe they were already trying to make me come? Yikes! If so, it didn’t seem to be working … or?

Nope, not yet.

Read the story at The New York Observer.

photo by emerald-ginger on Flickr

I want to talk about the age of consent. Does it have gray areas?

I recently saw a new documentary called Are All Men Pedophiles? which is making the rounds at film festivals. The film explores the difference between pedophilia (attraction to children) and hebephilia/ebhebophilia (attraction to teens) and seeks to normalize the latter.

The stance of the filmmaker is that  hebephilia is somewhat natural. A voice-over explains  that teens understand desire. According to the film, most adults are attracted to other adults and some teenagers. After-all successful fashion models are 16. And by 16 most women are sexually mature (for guys it is more like 17 or 18.)

I also recently wrote a controversial piece for The Frisky about hooking up with younger guys. Or rather a younger guy. His name was Patrick, but everyone referred to him as the 17-year-old, which is how he was saved in my phone. I was 22.

I met him visiting my cousin in the burbs. She brought me to a party, where I bought booze for everyone and smoked cigarettes eye-ing Patrick in the corner. He was tall with olive skin and black skinny jeans. He looked like guys I hooked up with in the city.

Are all Men Pedophiles  points out that sometimes 15 year olds look 18. And that some 21 year olds look 16. The film also mentions that the age of consent is different in many areas of the world. The argument here is that the age 18 cap is convenient but not consistent with physical development– nor is it universal. Different areas of the world have different consent laws. What the film seems to dance around is: Is it different in different situations?

Later and drunker I would make out with Patrick on the hood of a car. With the moon looming above us, I said things- how he should move to the city now that he was graduating, how we would have so much fun. I used to say these things compulsively when hooking up with guys I’d probably never see again. “You shouldn’t have done that” my cousin said, shaking her head on the ride home.

In the opening scene, the filmmaker asks people on the street, “when does a relationship become pedophilia?” And many answer, “When the person is under 18.”

17 was the age of consent where I was living…but I knew there was something dark here. It was the power dynamic.

The Summer of Patrick, there had been a string of these kind of romances—one night stands that, for the duration of 6-12 hours I treated like serious relationships. There was another younger who I woke up next to in a dorm room, but mostly they were men my own age. Men I might not date, but could linger around, listening to their stories, having multiple orgasms and forming myself in their minds as something perfect. Something just out of reach.

I think this push-and-pull game of power exists in most of dating culture. It has been present in all the relationships I’ve  had. But power differentials are different with teens. The fontal lobe of the human brain is not even fully developed until age 25.

Two weeks later, I got a phone-call. The 17-year-old had run away and soon he would be at my front door. I grabbed two beers from the fridge and we sat on my mattress, which was in the middle of the living room floor. This would be a turning point.  I realized, I had crossed a line.

Addressing the future of hebephilia, the film-maker guesses it might forgo taboo, like pederasty in Ancient Greece. He asserts this is much more in line with human history. That it is natural. But we need to focus on power-differential and consent. I’m still not sure. Would this make it okay?

My first long-term relationship was with someone older when I was a teen. Stephen was 20 when we met and I was 16. We dated for years. He went to prom with me twice– both times he was relieved when he saw another guy there who graduated in his class.

I’ve looked at this relationship and felt like I should feel traumatized by it– there should be something glaringly wrong. But each time I mentally turn it inside and out it seems like one of the healthiest relationships I’ve had. Maybe it is different in different situations.

And yet, it tugs at me. It is still gray.

What do you think about the age of consent? Is it different in different situations?

photo: unknown

This is an excerpt from a recent interview I did with marriage historian, Stephanie Coontz. Coontz is the author of the book Marriage, a History and here she is talking about how people began marrying for love and how that changed our idea of women, men and, well, all of us.

Here is Coontz:

“The sexualization of marriage happened in the 20th century, when people started marrying for love. The message was that marriage should be based on mutual sexual attractions and satisfaction  and young couples were now told that you needed to be available to each other sexually.

But an immediate reaction to the shift of marrying for love was to redefine marriage and gender in ways that made men and women so opposite that they could not exist without each other. This is where we get the male bread winner and the idea that women can’t do certain work. This is after 5,000 years of women working on the farm and helping butcher the pig and handle sales that went on. Now suddenly women are so weak that they can’t handle finances?  Pre-industrialization, women could sell the farm and drive hard bargains! But the idea was also that now men can’t do emotional work. And so part of this re-definition of marriage as a union was that people are two halves that can only be made whole by marriage.

It took us 200 years to develop the idea that this was the norm. When this romanticization of the marriage relationship began, many people found it distressing. I’ve seen letters and diaries talking about the selfishness of  these relationships and the loneliness and withdrawal people in them felt from friends and family. We also learned if you emphasize love as the basis of marriage it can lead to all sort of dissatisfaction, it can lead to the idea that you can divorce if marriage is unhappy.”

This is an excerpt from an interview for a feature story I am working on. All I want to say about that story is it follows couples living in unconventional ways. But here, I am talking to Soraya and Danges (a hip queer couple from Park Slope) about being too close as partners.

Danges: We do better when our relationship is in public. In socialized places the two of us feel comfortable being our authentic selves and become an authentic unit together. And getting that affirmation from a social group, together, is so necessary to grow.

RRW: It is like a mirror, you can see your relationship reflected back in social situations.

Danges: When we are alone together for too long, there is just only so far we can go. There is only so much that we can get from each other. But also, there are things we need to get from other people while being together, as a couple.

Danges: We can get into these deep analysis zones when we are together, we need something to keep us lighter.

Soraya: There is something in that nuclear family model of being everything to each other that hurts you. Left to just the two of us? Forget it, it is not sustainable.

I think as a society we have lost this idea of self care. We’ve lost how to get in touch with what we are feeling. We’ve lost the intuitive knowledge to take care of ourselves. And in return we have become so co-dependent of our partners. It too often becomes, “you have to give me all of these things and if you don’t I am going to hold it over you.” Which is not love. That is resentment and blame.

This all reminds me of something  Stephanie Coontz, a marriage researcher said in an interview about the future of relationships. According to Coontz the modern marriage is the marriage to your best friend, but this is not necessarily a good thing…

Coontz: One interesting trend in the past 20 years is that more people (are) reporting their spouse is their best friend, but the total number of friends people have has been declining. So we’ve become dependent on love to meet more of our personal needs. This diminishes our larger social ties, and it also puts a lot of burdens on the love relationship.

This is an interesting paradox. We expect more of our partner than ever before — deeper love, deeper friendship, more emotional and practical support. But we expect less of other people. This is especially true  for parents, our involvement in intensive child-rearing has led us to neglect the friendship networks and extended kin ties that can supplement and support our relationships.”

** I am curious what you think: What is the future of relationships? Do you think we are becoming more and more isolated as couples? Will that change? How? 

Ask your own question or interact with me on Tumblr!

The other day I looked up from my laptop at a coffee shop and saw that everyone was bent over a screen. I wondered what someone from 1971 would think about this “1984″ business. Each day by mid-afternoon my body aches from this ergonomic failure, but I’ve learned to remedy it with some stretching and yoga.

Yet on this afternoon, when I check the schedule and read the instructor’s name, Matthew, I start making excuses. Would I feel different if the instructor were named Melissa? It isn’t just yoga. I am like this with male dentists, doctors, massage therapists, therapist-therapists….Why am I scared of men?

A home video labeled Christmas 88’ shows footage of the family celebrating at my parent’s house. When the door-bell rings, I open the door to find Santa. I scream and run away, a bevy of cousins following me. Santa was an old man– old men were not to be trusted!

I’m not sure when the transition to adulthood is. It used to be 18 then it was 21 but now it seems to be whenever you stop sleeping on a mattress on the floor and spend more than $15 at a time on marijuana. When that happened for me, I started making my own appointments too: Dentist, Gyno, Doctor, Therapist. I googled for female names.

I would have said this was about supporting female professionals–gender egalitarianism! But then, a blip.

I was getting an IUD but then the female doctor wasn’t going to be able to do it. I had to see a male gynecologist. And here, I realized there was real fear. But I made the appointment, I was an adult now. I wouldn’t scream and run out of the doctor’s office.

The morning of the IUD insertion, I was greeted by the doctor–an older guy with a gentle demeanor. He was really nice and asked lots of clarifying questions, probably trying to make up for the fact that he was a male gynecologist.

As we talked about the IUD procedure, I kept expecting to notice some sexual undercurrent. When no sort of tension arose,  I began wondering what his sex life was like, what he thought of me sexually. I wondered if I was the one sexually objectifying here.

As I waited on the crinkly paper, I began to face my male-gyn fears. I thought about the cultural messages about men. Messages about the “natural and brutal nature” of men. Messages that said every man was a potential predator. Messages like “men only think about one thing”. This wasn’t fair to men. This seemed to only shame men and make women distrustful of them.

Tuning into these messages, had I turned men into an object? A sort of tooth-y, hairy thing concerned solely with sex? Was I the one being sexist here?

“We are going to insert the IUD now” the doctor said. Suddenly I remembered what I was there for and felt nervous again. My cervix cramped and my body, anxious, went into a sort of shock mode. “She is going pale!” The nurses ran to get me some water.

My pondering about gender was gone. I would not have fond memories of this gyn-visit. I would not want to go out of my comfort zone again with male doctors, masseuses, whatever.

But now, in front of the yoga-schedule here I am. I watch my cat stretch into a perfect down dog. Okay, fine. I’ll go. I will explore this. When I get to class, Matthew is talking to a guy outside. I go in and sit on my mat pretending to be zen-like.

Matthew comes in and I sit up straight. “Sorry my boyfriend forgot his keys, I had to give them to him!” Oh. He is gay. Did I mention that negates the anxiety? I close my eyes again. That was close.

Adapted from a Frisky post!

What is up with the fear of men? Is it reasonable? Is it not? Do you know what I am talking about?