Because here’s the thing about realizing you’re into girls. Hardly anyone I know has ever said, “Am I gay?” in the same way they say, “Hey, do you know what the weather’s supposed to be like tomorrow?” Like they just need to figure out how to dress for the occasion. No, when most people ask, “Am I gay?” they ask it with the kind of urgency they would usually reserve for things like, “Do I strap this parachute to my back and jump from this free falling airplane or do I nose dive into the ocean and hope the sharks don’t eat my remains? SINK OR SWIM? LIVE OR DIE? QUENCH THE FIRE OR BURN ALIVE?” It feels so urgent, and the reason it feels so urgent is because you’re probably not just asking, “Hey, do I want to make out with other girls?”
You’re also probably asking: What the hell are my parents going to say when I tell them I want to kiss other girls? And my friends and my co-workers and my classmates and everyone at my family reunion? And what’s that girl going to say when I tell her I want to kiss her? And how is my life ever going to be OK, and how can I go on being the same, and am I the same, and what else do I not know about what’s alive inside me? And who will still love me and who will start hating me, and is God involved, or the government maybe, and what if it’s only one girl I want to kiss, and how do I label myself and must I label myself, and what if I change my mind and, really, what if I do burn alive?
A Day in the Life of a Sexologist: My most WTF sexologist moment to date: An open letter to the guy who called my PARENTS regarding whether or not I have...
Dear Ralph Kaplan,
When I checked my email yesterday morning, I found that I had a new email from your firstname.lastname@example.org email account with the subject line “your condom advocacy”. Given my profession, it seemed perfectly legit, and I opened it. Turns out, it was anything but…
there are almost no “canonically straight” characters because writers don’t feel the need to explicitly state heterosexuality everyone always forgets that
bilingual my ass. you’re either heterolingual or homolingual
Stoya on the Metaphysics of Cocksucking (via VICE)
“What’s your number-one tip for giving the best blowjob?”
This question drives me insane. I usually pause to shoot murderous looks at whichever PR person has set up the interview before responding. I have two sound-bite-sized answers: “Don’t chomp down on the dick unless the person it’s attached to has expressed a desire for that sort of thing,” and “Experiment, communicate, and pay attention.” Usually the reporter doesn’t like either answer. They want to hear something about Altoids or strawberry-flavored lube. They want to know some secret for controlling a man through his orgasm, as though making your boyfriend ejaculate at will is some sort of way to turn them into the perfect mate. They want a detailed description of the magical three-button move that works on everyone. If something like putting slight pressure on the taint with my left thumb while using the fingers of that hand to gently cup the balls and slurping on the head of the cock with the exact suction tension of my mom’s twelve-year-old Hoover worked like a charm on every single penis, I would never, ever spend 45 minutes of my life on a porn set trying to be understanding and sensitive, while the male talent I’m working with struggles to maintain an erection or ejaculate because he’s having a really bad day.
My Brother Mansplains Female Sexuality
The other day, my brother, who has always thought my feminism and queer support is something fun to mock, ended up having a conversation with me about female sexuality. We got onto the topic by talking about lesbians, during which my brother said he “didn’t get them, because how do they know when to stop?”
Disbelievingly, I suggested “when they orgasm?”
And my brother, thinking he knows more than me, goes “yeah, but woman can have multiple orgasms, so how do they know when it’s time to stop?”
“Well, how do you know when sex is over?” I ask.
“When I orgasm,” he says proudly.
“But what about the woman? What if she still hasn’t orgasmed?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I stare at him in disbelief.
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Wouldn’t you return the favor and bring her to orgasm?” And my brother laughs at me.
“No, see, the thing about woman is they don’t care about orgasms—they’re just as happy snuggling.”
“…so if a woman got off and then stopped having sex with you, would you be happy?”
“But you wouldn’t go down on a woman who hasn’t gotten off yet.”
“No, because then I’m not in the mood anymore, and it’s gross!!”
When I told him that assuming a woman is content with just snuggling and not reaching sexual fulfillment is a very flawed assumption, he accused me of not knowing anything because I’m a virgin, and obviously therefore don’t know what female sexuality really is. And that, anyway, “most girls get off in the middle of sex anyway so it’s not a problem.”
As a recap, my brother mansplained that: a) lesbians apparently can’t figure out when to have sex because a man’s not there to tell them he’s orgasmed and it’s time to stop, b) that woman are always always content with snuggling over reaching sexual fulfillment, c) a guy should never have to get a woman off after he himself has orgasmed, d) my opinion on female sexuality is totally null because I’m a virgin, and e) women almost always get off in the middle of sex and it’s a rarity if they don’t finish before a guy.
‘which vegetable wears the strap-on’ is what they’re asking. the answer is all the vegetables.
I took this last year, but in retrospect, I think it’s my strongest piece from high school.
Working on this project really made me examine my own opinions, preconceptions and prejudices about “slutty” women and women who choose to cover all of their skin alike. I used to assume that all women who wore Hijabs were being oppressed, slut-shame, and look down on and judge any woman who didn’t express her sexuality in a way that I found appropriate.
I’d like to think I’m more open now.
Source: Flickr / roseaposey
How lesbians signal for other lesbians.
if you look closely, in the background, there is a faint second rainbow. here we see the response of a second lesbian. this lesbian will soon sense the response and make her journey across the unforgiving terrain in hopes to mate. let’s hope she makes it. the future of the lesbian population depends on it.
I always thought they shouted “YOU’RE A WANKER NUMBER NINE” to signal each other.