Tag Archives: having sex

Debunking the Three-Date Rule

Having a script for how we’re supposed to behave can be a great security blanket. Someone asks, “How are you?,” and you say, “Fine.” You see someone you haven’t seen in a while, and you say, “Well, it was great running into you,” at the end of the conversation. These social scripts smooth out social interactions.

Limiting the possibilities for our interactions to these scripts can cause trouble, though, and the biggest arena I see this trouble play out is in the world of sexual relationships. The dating world is ripe with confusion regarding how we’re supposed to behave versus how we need to actually behave in order to have healthy and satisfying relationships. In the realm of dating, the timing of sexual acts is frequently seen as one of the indicators of how serious a relationship is, or as a predictor of how long the relationship will last (i.e. “why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”). So let’s just take a few minutes to debunk one of the most common dating scripts: the three-date rule.

What is the Three-Date Rule and Who Uses It?

The three-date rule states that one must wait three dates to have sex with a new partner. This rule plays on some very basic assumptions we make about sexuality in general. First off: this rule applies almost exclusively to heterosexual people. Queer folks have their own stereotypical rules of dating (like gay men and one-night-stands, or lesbians and U-Hauls*), most of which contradict heteronormative sex rules.

Responsibility and Shame

Because this rule applies mostly to straight folks, it heightens the gendered expectations in relationships. The three-date rule plays on the idea that men always want sex, while women are the gatekeepers, which puts women in charge of men’s sexuality and causes a whole slew of problems. If women are in charge of whether or not men have sex, it takes all the responsibility for acting like compassionate human beings out men’s hands and likens them to animals, acting out of instinct and completely incapable of reason. Besides being demeaning to men, this mindset also supports rape culture, because it creates the reasoning that if a man rapes a woman, then she must have done something to open the gate. She must have flirted with him, or worn a short skirt and heels, or taken the ring off her finger—because those are signs that “gate is open—man can have sex now!” (Do me a favor and read that in a caveman voice, because that’s exactly how devolved this mindset is.)

Another problem caused by the notion of women as gatekeepers of sex is the denial of female sexuality. Men are not the only people made stupid by the human drive for sex. Many of us have felt that brain-fog when our crush in junior high noticed us, or that rush of “I don’t care what happens afterward” right before that first kiss. At the very least, we’ve seen people swoon over each other in movies. It’s a human thing, not a guy thing. Female bodies are actually more responsive to sexual stimuli, and denying that lends support to the shame surrounding female sexuality. Imagine taking shame out of the equation surrounding sex—how much freedom would come from it?

Now take that lack of shame and put it into the three-date rule. It doesn’t fit, does it? That’s because the three-date rule is centered around “appropriate” and “proper” times for women to say yes to sex, when in reality there is no “proper” time. There’s only the time that fits well for that given relationship. For some partners, sex is the first thing to happen, and the getting-to-know-you bit happens much later. For other couples, one or both partners need an established emotional intimacy before anything remotely sexual gets introduced. And for a large amount of the U.S. dating population, we need something in between those two. Hard and fast rules don’t work when we apply them to very individual and unique contexts.

To Each Their Own

I like to think of each new relationship in my life like water: it seeks its own level. Each relationship is like a different container, but ultimately the surface is level because I’m seeking the same respect and love. Sometimes that love comes in the form of sex, sometimes in the form of abstinent cuddles. Ultimately, whether or not I have sex with someone depends greatly on a number of factors, predominantly chemistry and trust, not on how many dates we’ve had.

Side Note: the following are tales of three loves. I am purposely avoiding gendered pronouns because no matter how enlightened you are, everyone puts gendered expectations and explanations onto simple “he/she” language. I’m disallowing you, dear reader, to assume I’m treating a given partner a certain way based on their gender as part of my exercise in debunking this dating rule.

The first lover, I hated right off the bat. I thought they were an arrogant know-it-all, and I couldn’t have been less impressed with them. A year later, we met in a different context, and I found that we actually had a lot of similar life experiences. We got to talking and I loved the way they thought about things. I started running into them at clubs, and finally one night, amidst the pulsing bass and the crush of hot bodies, we kissed. And, oh my—that kiss. That’s how it went for several months: meet up with friends at clubs, dance, kiss, go home. Then, one night in November, our friends were heading out and I knew: tonight was going to be the night. …which frankly sucked, because I was sick with a cold, and I knew that I should be home in bed, having soup and going to sleep early. But this person wanted me to come out—texted me specifically to make sure I was going—and I knew that if I went, I’d get laid. We met at the club, we danced all night, we drove back to their place, and we spent the night entangled in each other. No official dinner-and-a-movie dates involved. We’d spent copious hours in discussion groups, in hangouts with friends, in all the getting-to-know-you moments with other people around, and it wasn’t necessary for us to date before having sex. I knew how they took care of their sexual health, how many partners they’d had, and their STI status before we had sex, and to me, that was more important than waiting for three “official” dates.

I met the second lover through the first. My first impression of this lover was that I wanted nothing more than spend many long hours having glorious, athletic sex with them—they were the athlete, not me. I started getting to know this one very slowly as the end of my first sexytimes week with my first lover rolled around. My first time with this lover was actually a threesome with my first lover as well, which was nice because I was still recovering from being sick and having someone else there gave me a little bit of the rest I needed. Two years of having sex later, my second lover and I finally went on a date. But we did it completely backwards from how dates are “supposed” to go. You know that script for dinner-movie-sex-walk of shame? I went over to their place the night before, and we had sex, started the movie, slept, woke up, had sex again, showered, and then went out for breakfast and a walk around the park. For us, the sex needed to happen first in order to get to the point where we felt comfortable enough talking about the rest of life.

I met my third lover, the most recent, through a mutual friend. This lover was just out of a long-term relationship, and I figured I was going to be the rebound. We started out having chaperoned dates with our mutual friend as the buffer, because we did not know each other at all. A few dates in, we took off the training wheels and went on our first un-chaperoned date. I remember sitting on my hands so that we would actually talk. Similar to my second lover, the chemistry between us was electric and I found it difficult to do the get-to-know-you bit with my tongue down their throat. We started having manual sex before they were tested, and after we knew the results, we proceeded on to the many other types of sex.

I specify manual sex here to highlight another shortcoming of the three-date rule: it doesn’t define “sex.” Many people tend to think of “getting laid” as penis-in-vagina sex, but there are a whole range of sex acts that can be considered “sex” (i.e. manual, oral, anal). What one person classifies as “sex” may be completely different and no less valid than what another person calls “sex,” and waiting on one type in particular doesn’t mean you aren’t having sex in general.

Looking back at the rest of my dating life, I have never followed the three-date rule, and you know what? I’m still here, I’m still standing, and I’m only as slutty as I call myself. I am living proof that the timing of sex between two people does not revolve around what other people think. I expect my partners to be responsible for their own sex drive, and respectful of my humanity, and I think that’s a much better rule for when to have sex than measuring out three dates.

* Author’s Note: The jokes typically run along these lines: “What does a gay man bring on a second date? …What second date?” (Because gay male culture is stereotyped as only capable of one-night stands.) “What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul.” (Because lesbians are notorious for moving in together very quickly after starting to date.) Warning: if you are straight and you tell these jokes, that is considered homophobic. 

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

When a Sexy Secret is Not So Sexy

I’m a virgin.

There—it’s out there. Shocking that it might seem so shocking, but whenever the topic of sex comes up, somehow the most intriguing thing isn’t who did what where but that I’ve never done it anywhere.

People often say I don’t act like a virgin. What does that entail exactly? Should I faint when I see a bare chest? Or maybe I should just recline on the edge of an active volcano and await the villagers?

When my virginity comes up, it has to be analyzed extensively. The easy solution would be to not bring it up, but when I’m at a bachelorette party or casual social gathering and people are divulging intimate details and asking me to respond in kind with my sexual exploits, I’m candid about the fact that I don’t have any. Lying about my sexual activities would mean I’m ashamed of not having them. I’m not.

I was raised knowing sex is fun and babies are great, but if you’re not willing to raise a kid with a dude, maybe you should hold off.

Very few of my peers are virgins, and those who are seem to have the same obstacles navigating the chaste path. Their reasons are their own, but the obstacles we face in today’s sexually candid society are similar. We’re often asked if we’re religious fanatics. When do we actively decide it’s time to lose it? Are we waiting for marriage? People sometimes expect sex when they’re not seriously dating, so should we tell a guy at the “talking” stage before we get to the “not seriously dating” stage?

At the end of the day, I’m a virgin because I’ve never loved someone romantically—call me naïve but my first time should be with someone I love and trust. And even though I don’t exude the virginal aura, persona, scent that I apparently should, people become very invested in my virginity and when I will lose it.

Dating can be tricky. You’ll hear people say they have the five-date rule or the ninety-day probationary period. All I can think is once I become sexually active, I’ll probably stay that way. So if I keep to the three-month rule and don’t get married, I could have 102 sexual partners by the time I’m 50. I’m just personally not comfortable with that calculation, so ninety days isn’t going to cut it for me.

When I’m interested in someone, I bring up the issue early on. In my first few quasi-relationships (repeat dates that did not lead to exclusive or long relationships), I didn’t bring it up until they did. One said I had insecurities I needed to deal with. One asked how long I expected him to wait. Now I bring it up early, and if it’s a deal breaker or the man shows anything besides respect, I move on—no harm, no foul. I’d like to say I don’t obsess over it, but I do. When you’re enjoying a flirty relationship with someone and know this may be something that they won’t be able to adjust to, it’s uncomfortable; and if it turns out to be an issue, it’s upsetting. But I’ve discovered that not all guys act like the first few did, and I’ve actually been privileged to date a few men who not only showed the utmost respect for my boundaries but also didn’t feel the need to continuously check in to see if I was ready or not.

While dating poses its challenges, the greater obstacles I face are actually from my friends. All my close friends are invested in my sexual status in some way, either trying to sexually liberate me or protect me from the predators I’ll undoubtedly date.

Maybe they’re confused because my sense of humor is more than slightly vulgar: I make sexually explicit comments and gestures; I tease and play. This somehow leads some of my friends to conclude that I need to get laid. When I point out that they are just as vulgar and sexually explicit as I am, and they are getting laid, I’m told it’s “different” and I’ll understand when I’m getting some. News flash: virgins can still discern hypocrisy. They may be right—maybe I’ll mellow out after my first sexual encounter—but I doubt it. Either way, I’ve learned to take it on the chin.

On the other side of the friend spectrum, there are the friends who all want to know if the person I’m currently dating is being respectful and not pressuring me. They offer their words of advice and urge me to wait. Some tell me about their first time as a cautionary tale. What will these friends say if I get sick of waiting for love and one day decide that I want to have a slightly reckless, future-cautionary-tale first time? I know it’s because they care, so what can I do but reassure them that I can handle the situation.

Our society seems progressive concerning sex, with TV shows and movies perpetuating one-night stands or casual sex, while critiquing those that deviate from whatever the norm is in media like TLC’s “Virgin Diaries.” So how do virgins navigate a culture that seems to look down on their entire life experience because they lack one experience? When I think about who I am and what makes me me, “virgin” never makes the list. Yet when attempting to cultivate a relationship I hope will last the rest of my life, it’s the one facet of my identity that those around me and, admittedly, even I get caught up on.

Photo by Rob Adams

Photo by Rob Adams

We Don’t Know: I’m Gay, So When Did I Lose My Virginity?

“Can we get rid of the term virginity? Because it’s basically bullshit.” – Laci Green on the history of “virginity,” the misconceptions around hymens, and your “sexual debut.” 

We’re talking a lot about “first times” and virginity this week, but what does “virginity” mean to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer individuals? We started asking some members of the UE community about their first times and soon realized that this wasn’t going to be a Let’s Ask. Because, clearly, We Don’t Know:

What do you consider your “first time”?

“The first time we were both naked.”
“The first time there was some type of penetration.”
“The first time it felt like a mutual event, rather than a foreplay type situation.”
“The first time I orgasmed in front of someone else.”
“The first time I had butt sex.”
“The first time genitals were touching with eye contact.”
“The first time I enjoyed it.”
“I haven’t felt the need to define it.”
“A pre-planned date we had both chosen.”

Some people consider the act of lesbian sex to be having oral sex: do you?

“I don’t understand why ‘lesbian virginity’ is third base? Then again, I have no idea what home plate is either.”
“That doesn’t make sense to me. So many couples do so many different things.”
“I don’t like giving or getting head, but I love having sex.”

A lot of people consider the act of gay sex to be anal sex: do you?

“I do. But it isn’t for everyone! I have friends who have been together for years and aren’t into penetration.”
From a ‘Dear Alice’ on Go Ask Alice: “All gays do not engage in anal sex. I know many men who prefer not to engage in this sex act. I don’t think enjoying anal sex is synonymous with homosexuality. This might comfort some of the straight men who write you and say they enjoy anal stimulation. I believe being gay is about having emotional relationships with men and not necessarily about the type of sex acts one engages in.”

If you’ve had straight sex, do you consider that your first time?

“I did at the time, but I do not now.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, but then I also had a ‘gay first time.’”
“Sometimes I think, ‘Technically, I guess I’m still a virgin, because I’ve never had straight sex.’ But I have sex all the time, so I don’t really know.”

We’d love to hear your thoughts!

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

I Had Casual Sex With My Roommate

There was a brief period in college where I was having what might have been seen as a sordid affair with a good friend. It was great. We were part of a big group of people who all worked together, and were all attached at the hip. Weekend trips to the beach, late night drunken karaoke sessions. I would find myself belting the lyrics of Moulin Rouge’s most soulful duet from the sunroof of a car with an Oreo shake from Jack in the Box in my hand and my friends leaning out the windows singing backup. And, as if eating poorly and consuming trash media weren’t enough, I decided to add what would eventually become an emotionally disastrous relationship to the mix.

I honestly don’t even really remember how it started, but a few nights a week the two of us would find ourselves alone, in one of our rooms, and things would get steamier from there. At first, it was fabulous. The best part about this “affair” was that it was so casual. There was literally nothing beyond hooking up, and after the terrible breakup I had just gone through it was such a relief to have something easy with a friend I trusted so much. There wasn’t any interest in dating, so we could dispense with the awkward so-what’s-your-middle-name conversations. Hell, we already knew all those things about each other.

Come spring quarter, our entire group was moving off-campus and we were all deciding where to live. A piece of our little group organized itself and signed a lease on a fantastic party house off the main drag and got excited about a whole year of playing and dancing and late-night heart-to-hearts. This friend and I, still in the midst of our precarious relationship, found ourselves staring down a twelve-month lease. But we trusted each other, and were really enjoying our rendezvous. Wouldn’t it have been smart to take it a little easy once that lease was signed?

Because, as it does, the other shoe dropped on me. My friend-with-benefits met and fell in love with someone. Which, under any normal circumstances, I would have been absolutely thrilled about. In fact, I was thrilled, except for two tiny details, which ended up having not-so-wonderful effects. First, I was not actually told that things had changed in our arrangement until things were already underway with this other girl (which made me feel not totally valuable and as if I was being kept on the line just in case). Second, I didn’t get to choose. I felt like I was being broken up with when the whole point was that we weren’t dating. Oh, and bonus: she had the same name as me.

I must say, I may not have handled this situation perfectly. My entire feeling was, essentially, “Who the fuck are you to go and date someone else with the same goddamn name?” Really helpful, trust me. But I felt like I had been blown off. It is not very productive to dwell on feeling worthless. And then to have to spend months listening to her moan from their room (oh, the thin walls), and watch their stupid fights… I wasn’t envious of their relationship, I just hated having been rejected. I hated that I was second string. I hated that I was the one who didn’t get to decide when it was over (control freak, much?). I never said anything about this to any of my friends, benefits or otherwise, because our relationship was never more than physical: I never felt like it was my place to explore what had happened. I think things would have been better off if I had allowed myself the space to really work things out. Instead, I stayed angry for the entire year.

This wasn’t jealousy. By then, I was dating someone else, but unfortunately I’m not exactly the type to let bygones be bygones. Tiny forgivable offenses like not cleaning up the dishes turned into character flaws and major issues. I was hypersensitive about everything, and I played a major part in dividing the house. Because we were living together, there was no space to cool off, no opportunities to stop picking at the wound. Our friendship never really recovered.

All in all, the actual sexy-times part of this lasted about a month, maybe, but the effects were long-lasting: four years out, I don’t really keep in contact with this friend even though I am still very close with my other roommates.  I really regret not maintaining that friendship, and the fallout from our not-actual-break-up-break-up. In the moment, there were really no downsides. We knew each other well, trusted one another, and could have a really good time. It was exciting and fun and we could ignore all the cliffs we were skirting. Until, of course, we teetered over the edge. Afterwards, it was all downsides. Awkwardness, uncomfortable feelings within our friend group, heightened tensions around quotidian issues.

Would I do it again? Probably. But this time around I would add a little more sunlight into the equation, and work harder to make things less awkward once it was all over. I would let go of my pride, and be open about how I was feeling. And maybe not sign a lease together.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Let’s Ask: Lies My Mother Told Me About the Birds and the Bees

My mother is a pretty awesome human being by all accounts. It’s important that I make sure all of you know this. She’s been through a lot of crazy, tough stuff over the years and has clawed her way to the other side like a fucking grizzly bear. But what she did not do was prepare me in any way, shape, or form to have any semblance of a functional adult sex life.

All the sex “advice” my mom ever gave me had but one simple through-line, one motive: to convince me to never even think about having sex. EVER. For any reason. To instill in me a crippling fear of the anatomy of the opposite sex. “I’ve been there. I was a teenager in the 70s, okay?” And I had to believe her, how could I not? Now, to be fair, most of these pearls of wisdom were handed down to me when I was only about 10 years old, the year my mom awkwardly left the “What’s Happening To My Body?” book on my pillow and never spoke of it. So… maybe the whole G-rated fright-fest makes sense. But a G-rated lie is still a lie!

“Sex hurts. It’s not fun for girls, only for boys. Girls who tell you they like having sex are sluts who are just trying to make you feel uncool.”

Yikes. Way to make sure I’d grow up to be a total bitch ice queen with ZERO friends, Mom. And what exactly was I supposed to think of myself, the day I had sex and realized that I liked it? Was I, too, a slut? Are we all sluts? What’s the meaning of life? Are we alone in the universe? These are the questions.

“If you give him the milk for free, why should he buy the cow?”

Thanks, Mom, now you’re calling me a cow, too? I think this one is fairly common, textbook advice for girls. It’s also fairly ridiculous. I know plenty of people whose stable, happy relationships were borne of a random, sexy encounter one random, sexy night. The act of having the sex you want when you want it doesn’t hold the same cultural weight that it might have years ago. Guys don’t typically “lose respect” for girls if they “put out” right away. Also, can we as a generation sign some sort of pledge to do away with the phrase “put out?” It’s so dated, so very look-at-me-I’m-Sandra-Dee. It sounds so dirty, too: Put. Out. She puts it out there, guys. It. Her vagina. Shudder.

Anyway. I fully support a lady waiting a little while to sleep with a guy she’s just started dating, so she can get to know him better and make sure he’s a solid choice. But that’s different. That’s not a decision made out of fear because you’re worried he won’t respect you anymore if you do the deed. And if that fear turns out to be true, that he does lose respect for you after you sleep together, then this guy might actually be the worst. So… good riddance.

“Ten minutes of good sex is not worth the pain of childbirth.”

Because obviously every time a person has sex it automatically results in a baby being born nine months later. OBVIOUSLY. I don’t doubt that having a baby hurts like the dickens, but that’s kind of neither here nor there. Because of this, for the longest time, I thought that people’s parents only had sex the day they decided they wanted a baby. The concept of birth control didn’t really factor into this discussion until I was several years older, and I already knew what it was thanks to my friends who had courageously bought condoms and put them on bananas at a sleepover.

“Having sex is worse than saying the worst swear word you can think of.”

So… the F word? Wait. Is this what a conundrum feels like? I am ten years old and my brain just imploded. This might be my self-destruct code. Send help.

“You’re not allowed to get married if you’ve already had sex with someone else.”

It’s worth mentioning that my family was not very religious. We were the swing-by-church-on-Easter-and-Christmas variety of Catholics. But for some reason, my mom would rev up the Pope-mobile whenever it came to the subject of pre-marital sex. You didn’t do it. Period. Those were the rules—God’s rules. You can’t break God’s rules because he’s definitely gonna hear about it, being God and all. And that’s not necessarily uncommon: a lot of parents tell their kids that they shouldn’t have sex until they’re good and hitched. But my twisted, 10-year-old mind took this warning to a whole new, disturbing level by assuming that a doctor had to examine you and give you a certificate of “Nope, Never Done It!” before you could walk down the aisle. And the worst part? When I asked my mom whether or not this pre-marital medical exam actually existed, she said yes.

“Penises are really ugly.”

Well… okay, fine. I’ll give you this one, Mom. I’m glad I was prepared.

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

Clear History: Porn and the Long Term Relationship

“All I’m saying is… if we like, move in together or get engaged or something, I don’t want to find out he’s watching porn ever again,” a dear friend confessed to me in a scandalized whisper over a bottle of wine one night.

I was floored when I heard her say this. This was a girl who was comfortable with her sexuality and was always up for dishing about her most recent inappropriate nocturnal activities. I snorted into my glass of Merlot and said, “Yeah, okay. And what’s he gonna do if he ever catches you watching porn?”

“I don’t watch porn,” she said.

“Lies.”

“I don’t need to,” she argued. “Why would I? My relationship isn’t missing anything. Sex is great how it is.”

She then elaborated on how degrading pornography is towards women and that she didn’t understand why her boyfriend, a self-professed male feminist who was down to take his wife’s name when he got married, could allow himself to watch it.

And thus began a long day’s girl talk into night as she and I hashed out the place of pornography in today’s long term relationships. It was a doozy.

My side of the argument sounded a little something like this:

It’s important for both parties in a long-term partnership to be able to express their feelings about porn, because guess what: it’s here to stay. We can’t get rid of it as long as the Internet is also here to stay (and I’m pretty sure that’s a given). Gone are the days when a guy would sneak away at 3 pm on a Sunday, pop the collar of his shady looking trench coat, and duck into a dirty movie. As adults engaging in sexual relationships in the 21st century, it would be naïve as all hell for us to pretend that porn doesn’t have a seat at the table (er… in the bed?). It’s too accessible. You cannot pretend that your significant other isn’t ever going to watch it again if he or she is already in the habit of doing so. If my friend came down hard on her boyfriend for watching porn, he would probably just start sneaking it, and then it would turn into this weird, dirty secret he had. Why have weird, dirty secrets if you don’t need to have them? Unless you like having them—but, that’s neither here nor there.

My friend and I then chewed over this idea that, if someone watches porn, is he or she fantasizing about something that is missing in his or her relationship? This was the reason she said she didn’t “need” to watch porn, and one of the reasons she was offended when she found out her boyfriend occasionally did. I guess the thought process goes like this: if your significant other is seeking out a very specific type of fetish every time he or she pulls up the YouPorn home page, you might conclude that he or she wants you to incorporate said very specific fetish into your sexytime routine. But the truth is that he or she likes it because it’s not real life; it’s a fantasy, an indulgence. It would lose its allure if it were part of reality.

“Listen, you don’t watch him play Grand Theft Auto and think he’s going to run around the city jacking cars and running over innocent bystanders, right?” I asked her.

She agreed that the analogy made a lot of sense. Even if her guy was peeping on some kind of freaky stuff, it did not necessarily mean that she was expected to imitate it IRL. After all, porn doesn’t show you what it’s like to have sex with someone you’re emotionally invested in. It’s not a roadmap by any means! It’s important that both people in the relationship know that.

My friend then conceded that maybe porn did have its benefits because it can help people deal with the boundaries of a monogamous relationship, especially if a monogamous relationship is what you ultimately aspire to. Sometimes we have to resist the urge to behave like animals. I wholeheartedly agreed: everyone, male or female, gay or straight, has had to avoid forbidden fruit at one point or another. Porn allows people to keep their shit together in real life; the temptation for forbidden fruit is super rare if said forbidden fruit isn’t looked upon as a super rare thing.

At that point, we circled back around to this idea that pornography is, traditionally, just plain offensive to women. If a teenage boy is caught looking at porn, a lot of parents might write it off as “totally normal for his age.” But if a young lady were caught in the same predicament… well, it goes without saying: we’re kind of not supposed to like porn. Because, as she argued, porn, in the “classical” sense, degrades females. There’s really no getting around that.

However, thanks to the Internet, more varied types of erotica have become accessible these days. It’s no longer 100% for-dudes-by-dudes, I argued back. I encouraged her to give it a whirl sometime and see if there was anything out there that she might like.

We hit the bottom of the bottle about an hour later and found our conversation in a very different place than where it had started. But my friend seemed much happier and far more relaxed now that she’d aired out her concerns. We agreed that monogamous couples don’t have to turn a blind eye to porn in our relationships and marriages if we don’t want to. And it might be healthier not to do so, especially considering it is everywhere!

And as for her boyfriend’s status as a self-professed feminist—his rep can remain intact.  We settled on this: it’s okay for a guy who upholds those ideals to find something sexy even if it goes against the feminist grain. If a person is a champion for non-traditional gender roles at home and in the workplace, the fact that they like guy-on-top sex shouldn’t discredit said championing. Sometimes, the body just wants what it wants—which is also probably what hurts the most for someone like my friend. Why does the body want that? I don’t know. Ask the cavemen, I guess. We also discussed the fact that it seems like a huge percentage of women secretly prefer guy-on-top-type sex as well—women who want their guy to “be in control” in the bedroom. But a great deal of ladies are hesitant to really own up to it because they don’t want to sound like a scab to the feminist agenda. Feminism and pornography have been waging a very complex cold war for years, so I didn’t want my buddy to think of it in such black-or-white terms. If she loved this guy (and of course, she did), she would have to find a way to navigate this question with an understanding, open mind.

If you’re invested in someone and you really care about them, hold their sexuality to the same standard that you hold your own. Don’t put them down if they enjoy certain things. Respect the chemistry, as Walter White would say. Porn doesn’t have to draw a dividing line between two people in a relationship. If you approach the subject in a respectful manner, it might even strengthen your relationship in ways you never expected.

I’m happy to report that my bud is now engaged to this awesome fellow. I’ll take a smidgen of credit where credit is due for this one (though that bottle of wine probably deserves an honorable mention, too).

Have your own opinion? Share it in the comments!

Photo by Sara Slattery

Good Vibes: A Guide to Vibrators

So you want to buy yourself a sex toy. Where do you start? There are so many—how do you know which type is for you? What about how loud it is, how intense it is, what it’s made of? Where do you even go?

Not to worry, knowledge is power and I am about to share what I’ve learned with you. I hope this will empower you to take control over your own sexuality and sex enjoyment (if you haven’t yet). If you have: hooray, and well done!

A note for males: in this article, I address ladies because I am a lady. However, vibrators can absolutely be for guys, as can sexual empowerment, so I encourage you to read the article and take what you can from it.

Now, let’s talk vibes.

Vibrators vs. Dildos: Choose your pleasure

This can be a tricky one, but it’s a good starting point. Some sexy lady toys are vibrators, some are dildos, and plenty are both. If you know whether you’re more sensitive to clitoral stimulation or G-spot stimulation, that’s a good place to start. If your previous self-sexy experiences have led you believe that the best way to get yourself off is to rub that little nub at the front of your lady-flower (inside the folds of your labia, but not inside your vulva), then you prefer clitoral orgasms. A slight majority of women are with you on this, and you may want to focus your attention on vibrators that are not dildos. However, if you’ve found that you prefer the feeling of something inside you, as opposed to some external rubbing, then you likely have a preference for the G-spot orgasm. In your case, looking at dildos (that are and are not vibrators) is a good idea.

What if you don’t know what you prefer? What if you’ve never had an orgasm before? (Or you can’t say for sure?) Well, ladies, that is just fine! When I bought my first vibrator, it was at the advice of a caring and wise gynecologist, after coming to her worried about the excess pain and lack of pleasure I felt during my first few months of having sex. Her advice: “Take a nice long bath, put on some music, and experiment with yourself. See what you like to do.” Since I had no idea what I might like, I bought a vibrator that looked pretty versatile: The Easy Glider. It can comfortably stimulate the G-spot as a dildo or pleasantly pleasure your clitoris, so I had the versatility to learn more about my body and my preferences. And I definitely figured out how to know if I had an orgasm.

Meet the Vibes:

Bullet, Eggs, and Rockets (Clitoral Vibrators):

  • Pocket Rocket is a crazy popular brand that you can find almost anywhere. I haven’t used one myself, but I’ve heard they are particularly good for beginners.
  • The RO 80mm Bullet and The Go-Go Bullet are pretty typical bullet vibes. I don’t own one (yet), but I like that they seem to be simple and easy to manipulate.
  • Babeland Leaf Life is one of the more fancy-schmancy, design-student-project vibrators. I must admit, I’m always drawn to their aesthetics and the contours tend to help them work well, but they also typically have a higher price tag.
  • The Club Vibe 2.OH is an example of how kooky and fun these guys can get. It’s remote controlled and can vibrate at different speeds to the beat of your music.

 

Just G-Spot Vibrators

  • The Tiger Vibe is a classic G-spot stimulator. Note its shape: that’s the most common shape to look for if you want a solid aim for your G-spot.
  • The G Swirl SmartVibes is another example of a vibrator that is designed for your G-spot. Either of these can probably do a decent job on your clitoris, but that’s not what they’re built for.

 

Versatile Vibrators (use them however you want*; good for beginners who are experimenting)

  • As I said above, The Easy Glider was my first vibe and it was perfect for starting out. Just $20, can be used inside and out, and has a spectrum of speeds.
  • My absolute favorite vibrator right now is another versatile one: the Lelo Gigi. (Explore the whole Lelo site as I’ve heard all their products are excellent.) The Gigi fits snugly wherever I want it and has a variety of vibrating patterns and intensity. The drawback, however, is the price. I got mine on sale through Amazon, though, so look out and snag those deals if you can!
  • If you can’t decide, get a kit! The Babeland Vibrator Starter Kit will get you a Silver Bullet, a G-spot stimulator Orchid G, and a Sonic Ring to put around anything that might be penetrating you and add some clitoral stimulation into the mix

 

*If you want to use a vibrator or any sex toy for anal play, make sure it looks like this, with a safety bit at the end that keeps it from completely entering the anus. Unlike a vagina, which is not super long and gets much smaller as you go deeper, your anus goes right on to your intestines. You definitely don’t want to go to the hospital to get anything embarrassing removed.

You may have heard of…

  • Rabbit Vibrators. These little guys have a nice bulbous dildo bit and a delicate little clitoris bit to stimulate both parts at once. I have The Butterfly Kiss, which is a Rabbit variation. One drawback is that sometimes the top of the dildo can be a bit big: Rabbits tend to come in a standard size, whereas ladies come in lots of different shapes and sizes, If you’re interested in trying, though, check out this little guy: My First Rabbit Vibe.
  • Hitachi Magic Wand. “The Cadillac of Vibrators” might look a bit alarming at first glance. The tennis ball–sized head is too big for most people to insert (though there are dildo attachments that are more manageable) and the thing looks more like a massager for shoulders and backs. That’s because when it was first marketed, it was a massager for shoulders and backs. Thank Betty Dodson and Sex and the City for finding its true purpose! The Hitachi is supposed to be very powerful—too powerful, in fact, for many. If you’re interested but intimidated, check out the smaller, less intense Mystic Wand.
  • The We Vibe. This little guy has appeared on Oprah, Dr. Oz, and more! The little U-shaped device fits snugly against your clit and your G-spot, stimulating both at once. Meanwhile, the vibe is small enough that your partner can penetrate you and enjoy the vibrations him or herself. There is a lot going on in there! I’ve never tried anything like this, but it certainly sounds exciting and there are tons of testimonials on the website if you’re interested.

 

Other Factors to Keep in Mind:

Intensity: 

If you’re a beginner to the vibrator world, you probably don’t yet know how intense you need your vibrator to be in order to enjoy it. You might buy your first vibrator only to feel under-stimulated by a little pocket rocket or over-stimulated by the Hitachi. For your first time, look for a vibrator with different vibration settings, so you can experiment. If possible, I prefer vibes with either several settings or a sliding scale of intensity so I don’t find one setting too light and the next one too intense. Also, many vibrators have different vibration patterns, which can be fun!

Volume:

I don’t know your sexy needs so this may not be a problem for you, but some vibrators are loud. Luckily, most websites have both a volume and intensity star rating system, so you can fit your purchase to your needs. And if you’re buying in a store, feel free to take out the vibrator and turn it on and listen to it. I would say that two stars is quiet enough to use if thin walls are all that separate you from your parents or even if you’re in the same room as a sleeping roommate, if that is the sort of daring thing you might do.

Power:

Once upon a time, all vibrators were powered by batteries. Today, you have far more options. Some vibrators plug into the wall. Some recharge with a wall outlet, but can hold their charge for a time (these are my favorite). Some are even solar-powered! Again, keep in mind your needs and preferences when shopping.

Materials:

Different materials give you different experiences, so it’s good to consider what you might want. Harder plastic and metal both transmit vibrations well, but they are also very firm and inflexible. Hard plastic, metal, glass, etc. are also nonporous, and are therefore super easy to clean with soap and water.

Soft plastic and jelly rubber can provide a lighter touch (but these can get powerful as well) and also offer flexibility that allows you to manipulate them easier. The downside of these is that they are extremely porous (so they can trap dirt and bacteria) and need to be washed very carefully and thoroughly, or else used with a condom.

Silicon is becoming a very popular material for sex toys. It is nonporous and easy to wash, and you can even boil it for extra disinfecting if there is no vibrator inside. Due to its popularity, there are now products with silicon blends as well, which can provide more flexibility but also more pores.

Lubes:

This could possibly be an entire article, but for now keep in mind some things about these four types of lubes:

    1. Water-based lubes are the most common and are compatible with condoms and silicone toys.
    2. Oil-based lubes are good for hand jobs, but break down condoms/latex and aren’t good for your silicon toys.
    3. Silicon-based lubes are long-lasting, but hard to wash out and expensive.
    4. Extra virgin coconut oil is an excellent lubricant and doesn’t leave you feeling sticky after, so it makes great massage oil as well.

 

Where to Buy / How to Shop:

Shopping online is my preference because I like to read reviews, check volume and intensity levels, search various sites to see if I can get the same thing cheaper elsewhere, etc. Some great sites to start with are Babeland and Good Vibes. Both are female-friendly, non-skeezy sites with good customer service and discreet shipping labels. I’ve heard that Adam & Eve is good too, though I have never bought anything there myself. I’ve also bought brand-name vibrators from Amazon on sale.

If you’re planning on going to a shop in person, look around for a women-friendly or an upscale sex shop, as you will probably be much more comfortable there than in a dirty room with girly magazines and leering creeps. Have a rough idea about what you’re looking for and know what you want to ask the sales clerk. If you have a friend with whom you’re comfortable talking about your sexy preferences, bring them along to get a second opinion and ease the tension you might feel going alone. Most importantly, don’t be afraid to ask for help! Ask for opinions and advice from the sales staff and have them put batteries in your options and turn them on for you. You can hear the volume and test the intensity on your nose to get an idea of what it will feel like.

In short: be brave, be unashamed, be sex-positive! Good luck!

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