Archive for sexploreum
My company has a name for these kinds of calls: “Hot & Sexy.” Hot & Sexy calls are best defined by what they are not: no force, no gender play, no butt play on him, no foot licking, no homo-eroticism, no overt expressions of dominance in either direction. But calling the Hot & Sexy calls “vanilla” doesn’t do them justice, because there are many ways to do vanilla. We kinksters might like to pretend otherwise, but actually there are many possible positions and activities for “vanilla” sex.
For face-to-face sex, this is great news. Lots of terrain to explore, my vanilla people! For phone sex though, this can be BLARGH, and I hadn’t really remembered How Much Blargh until last week, when I took a 7-minute, new(-to-me) caller, who “just wanted some hot, wet sex.”
That’s it, that was all he would give me, even after 30-45 seconds of questioning. He didn’t seem frustrated or anxious about not being able to tell me something more specific; he stayed jovial and raunchy the whole time. He just thought that I could step in and manifest, out of thin air, his own personal paradise of good “hot, wet sex.”
This is what casual entitlement looks like.
He didn’t want to do any work for this call, because hey, he’s paying for it and trying to articulate one’s turn-ons does in fact take a certain amount of psychological exertion. I’m doing the emotional labor here—that is an unspecified and variable but ever-present part of any sex worker’s job—and I knew damn well that if I didn’t suss out his sexual desires, and fast, he would hang up. If he did call back the company, he would blame it on me.
So I did what I always do with these free-floating H&S calls: pick as vague a scenario as possible, launch into it with conviction, and then tailor it down on the fly with whatever feedback I can wring out of him in the moment.
For this caller, I offered girl-on-top; I figured anyone as lazy as this probably would have similar tendencies in preferred sexual positions as well, and yep, I was right!
But wait, I said, are you hungry? (This of course is code for oral.)
“Oh, yeah, I am so hungry.”
Then lie back and let’s 69, I murmured. You’re about to get a really good breakfast.
So we wound up with a fairly straightforward progression from 69 (girl-on-top) to cowgirl, which I figured out from just knowing the one thing: how little effort he wanted to put into the encounter. It’s not psychic, it’s psychological, and holy crap, is it a pain in the ass.
But I couldn’t help coming off of that call with a sort of pride in my abilities. This had been the first call of the morning, only 10 minutes after I had signed in, the day after the first late-night cabaret of the Montreal Fringe. This was at my mental low point of the day, is what I’m saying, And I still managed it.
My instincts are working, even when the rest of my brain isn’t.
Just kidding: MY BRAIN IS WORKING ALL THE TIME, bringing you the best I can do from the worlds of sex, relationships, and theatre. Honor the work by patronizing me at Patreon!
The headline was problematic, so when I saw that this piece was authored by a “Dr.”, well, I HAD to do a background check. Dr. Cadell has a doctorate in Human Behavior from Newport University, which is pretty much an online diploma mill, as far as I can tell from the web site. She’s affiliated with some reputable sex-ed programs, although I don’t know in what capacity. She’s got a list of media appearances as long as an average-sized third leg. And she writes like a church lady on ecstasy. Who talks about becoming your husband’s mistress anymore? I’m pretty sure that went out in the ‘70s, which THANK GOD. I mean, LOOK AT THIS TERRIBLE SHIT:
1) Look good for him and for yourself.
I’m all in favor of dressing up. If you’ve got the closet space, go on and bring out your sex play costumes as often as you like (although how a pair of high heels “enhances his sense of sight” is a mystery). But this expert is not encouraging him to play dress-up. She doesn’t even mention him changing his underwear, never mind putting on a pair of high heels. She suggests the apron-only outfit “when serving him breakfast in bed.” Way to fold a couple of subby stereotypes into one! Oh, and this: “Getting dressed up is also a great way for a woman to get into a juicy frame of mind after a rough day at work or exhausting time with the children.”
<insert angry emoticon here>
2) Flirt with your husband.
Start by giving him a physical compliment daily and touch him when he least expects it.
I get that it’s easy to take your partner for granted, but … why does the woman have to be doing all of this? Why can’t they sit down and agree to hit on each other in a more egalitarian fashion? One tip from this section points out the basically anachronistic tone of this whole piece: “squeeze his butt playfully just before he leaves for work.” Right. But what if you are also a money-earner? What if you’ve got presentations all this week and your slide shows are crashing? What about the kids screaming about the choice of cold cereal this morning? If “your man” is regularly down in the trenches with you, then yeah, he deserves a butt squeeze. Otherwise, fuck him.
3) Make dates spontaneous.
But then the writer goes on to say, “Make it memorable by recreating some of the dates you went on before you got married.”
Are you kidding? Those dates early on in the relationships can be some of the highest prep-to-outcome events ever! Here, she addresses that by putting the responsibility for picnic-ordering and site selection in the woman’s hands. Again.
4) Be adventurous.
What is adventurous here? The woman making the first move. Reading 50 Shades of Grey to each other. Taking a class at the writer’s own online Loveology University. “Adventurous” is relative, and this tells you everything you need to know about the author’s scale.
5) Don’t ambush him with complaints.
Men want their wives to be happy, so the last thing they want to hear about after work is complaints about all the things that went wrong in your home.
WUT. This item is LOADED with seriously retrogressive phrasings:
- let him feel like a king
- if he can’t fix a problem, he might feel emasculated
- communicate positive things
- don’t “ambush” him
- “he probably doesn’t want to hear about your shopping spree.”
RULES FOR SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE AS DRAWN FROM SIXTIES SITCOMS.
6) Play into his fantasies.
Yeah, but she follows that up with a warning list: Men’s sexual fantasies are generally more sexually explicit, more physically arousing, about objects of desire, more likely to specify sexual acts, more visual in content and more likely to contain details about physical appearance. Unlike women’s, which are all satin sheets and chocolate and curtains blowing in the night breeze?
7) Ignite your passion to fuel his fire.
When you please yourself, you automatically please your partner because he does not want to work at giving you pleasure and quite frankly it’s not his job anyway.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. Warm yourself up, because men are lazy slackers. Since when should giving pleasure be a “job” for anyone but sex workers? Oh, right. Since forty years ago, and apparently still today.
The takeaway from today’s post? Honorifics and letters around a person’s name cannot save those sex tips, if they are truly terrible.
No one else would delve so deeply into the ocean of Terrible Sex Tips. I do it for you. You can show your appreciation by becoming a patron of mine on Patreon.
I am generally a kind person, especially around matters of sex and gender and sexuality, so if someone came up to me and said, “I’ve changed. I thought I was this and now I’m that,” I would be gentle. I would listen carefully, paying attention to cues about how they were feeling about the change in question, and I would support them in that change. Such things can be fluid, and second-guessing our feelings can be disastrous, and it’s okay to not know, or to suddenly know more than you did before. It’s okay, I’d say, people change.
And yet, I am being downright mean to myself these days, about my own sexuality and how it has changed, both in the past and also really recently. It’s still fresh. My head is still spinning.
In the last year, I swung from enthusiastically non-monogamous (using the sailor-in-every-port model) to a deliberate, chosen devotion to only one (as part of a power dynamic that thrills me to my core). Before that, I had slowly slid along the orientation axis from a butch, bearded dyke (20 years ago) to today’s tomboy-femme, clean-shaven babygirl, who has been attracted exclusively to cisgender men for the past 15 years.
And even while I feel deep satisfaction and profound joy and breath-taking excitement more than I ever have about my sex life, I can’t shake the feeling that I have failed. I don’t even know if that is a transitive or intransitive verb, like, do I need to specify someone or some cause that I’ve let down, or have I just, you know, failed?
I don’t know where this comes from. Maybe a sense that, because my stuff has slid more toward heteronormative, I just can’t speak from the margins anymore. Where am I getting that from? No one has ever said that to me. Do people actually say that? Would they? What would I say in response? Am I scared of being called a poser, a sell-out?
My tingling sense of unease is heightened because I generally have lived so publicly. For years, my sex life has been all out there for the world to see, both in life and in my art. But maybe, if no one ever knew that I ID’d as a lesbian those many years ago, then heteronormativity would ensure that no one would spend any time thinking about who I am now. There would be no change to notice or comment on.
Ditto the poly thing. After years of trying monogamy and tripping up repeatedly, I was DIGGING INTO THE BANQUET, I tell you. I went out on dates, and wrote bold lyrical status updates, and made a concerted effort to give full disclosure to new and potential suitors. I was IN IT, up to my fucking armpits. This is the way I prefer it; in general, I don’t like to hide things. The way I am with my one lover now feels right, but I can’t help thinking that if I had kept my personal life more, well, personal, then my current practice of cleaving to one man only wouldn’t feel like such a major break.
It’s the damnedest thing. I still feel queer as fuck and poly as hell, at least in theory. People still look at me, or listen to me, and make all kinds of assumptions, most of which were true at some point in the past. But I don’t see any of it in my life anymore. I followed my bliss, and this is where it has taken me: into a pool of quiet intensity that, to the outside observer, at least, looks "normal."
Why do I even care what I look like? None of those things that have been part of my identify are contingent on behavior or appearances anyway, right? There are lesbians who have never yet touched a woman, there are poly people who still call themselves poly after years of being in a monogamous relationship, there are trans people still with the genitals they were born with. It’s what’s in your head and in your heart.
At least, that is what I’d say to someone who came to me with this kind of story. And it’s the right advice. It’s the right understanding of the fluidity of human sexuality. Fluidity is the right word.
My desires feel like currents; sometimes they have rushed along until I almost drown in them, and sometimes they stir, still but deep. I wouldn’t want to fight them, nor do I want to deny everything that got me to this point, because I really do like where I’ve been and I like where I am now. I just wish I could internalize it for myself a lot faster.
REPEAT TO MYSELF UNTIL I BELIEVE IT: I haven’t failed anyone, not even myself. I’m just good at feeling and riding the flow.
If you want to see more discussion about delicate stuff like this, plug into the Cameryn Moore machine: become a patron of mine on Patreon!