Tag Archives: sex

Relationships

Debunking the Three-Date Rule

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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

Relationships

Being the Sancha

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“She be wifed up for not even a hot minute and she already lookin’ for a sancha.”

Coming from a small university town and moving to the big city was an adjustment in many ways, the least of which was the language.

“A what?” I asked. Thankfully, this friend was my Urban Dictionary: the one who recognized I was a little white girl from the middle class who knew virtually nothing of slang.

“A sancha*—you know, a woman on the side. Sancho, a man on the side—like that.”

“Oh, like Sancho Panza from Don Quixote!”

“Yeah, okay.” Complete with weird look of “Nerd.” Little did I know I was about to spend the next year being the sancha three times over.

A few months later, I hooked up with a woman from my hometown. We spent a fabulous weekend in bed, followed by promises to meet up again once I returned to school, since school wasn’t too far away from home. I got back to school only to experience radio silence for the next week. Finally, I saw on Facebook that she had gotten back together with her ex. She’d never mentioned they were talking. This was my first experience being the person on the side: not too bad, granted, but I still felt sucker-punched upon finding out that I had been played. See, I’m usually fine with keeping things casual, seeing other people, whatever. But if someone’s going to leave out facts to make the situation seem simpler, well, that’s lying by omission in my book, and I’m not okay with being lied to.

A little while later, I made a Mistake. It was one of those mistakes that I knew was a mistake going in, but I still had to do it. A friend of mine had recently come back into my life after a long hiatus. He was one of those people that would go MIA once he was in a relationship and the rest of us would only see him again after the relationship started to go sour. He and I had long-standing sexual chemistry, and him showing up on my doorstep was no coincidence. He said he was still in a relationship, but that he was in the process of talking his girlfriend into opening up. (Open and polyamorous relationships are a pretty common thing in my world, so this didn’t come as a surprise.) We hung out all night, the air thick with unsaid wants, and if there had been matches anywhere near, I’m pretty sure one spark would’ve sent us up in flames. The next night he came back, but I wouldn’t let him in until he cleared it with his girl. I knew I wanted him enough that I wouldn’t care that he had a girlfriend once he came up. He told me he sent her a text with the request, and read the reply aloud, “I don’t care—do what you want.” Now, most monogamous people would take that as, “You do and I’ll kill you,” but in my world, where people say what they mean and sleeping with people outside the primary relationship is both okay and common, I was thrilled. A hot, kinky, sweaty, sexy hour later, I found out the text had actually come from his best friend. His girlfriend had not signed off, and I was officially the other woman. Like I said, I’m not okay with being lied to—I didn’t talk to him for another nine months.

Not long after this Mistake, I found myself in the most egregious of all my sancha-ing. I was heading back home for the summer break and I wanted a snazzy summer boyfriend. I had just the guy in mind: dark wavy hair, dark eyes, killer smirk, an edgy streak and a great sense of humor. Problem was, he and his girlfriend, while having been on the rocks for a year, were still together. My actions here are the most heartless I have ever committed. I wanted him. I knew they were going to break up, but I wanted them to break up on my timeline, so I could have him for the summer. Everything fell exactly into place a mere two weeks behind my preferred schedule, and he and I were together. I called him my boyfriend, we were together with all of my friends, but every time we saw someone he had known with his ex, we were “just friends.” This might sound trivial, but it’s a small town, so most of the time we were in public, we were closeted. Here I was in an opposite-sex pairing and we were closeted. Oh, the irony.

As everything was falling into place with this boy, I had this odd feeling that I should feel guilty, but I didn’t. Rather, I felt guilty that I didn’t feel more guilt. I knew I was hurting this girl, but from everything I knew of their relationship and the horrible way she treated him, I felt justified. I was offering him the kindness she didn’t show him, the love that she refused to give him. I did not think highly of her, and my strongest emotion towards her was apathy.

Three months later, Summer Boy and I broke up, right on schedule. It took me a while to process the anger that I felt about the relationship, but once I did, I realized some important Life Lessons:

  1. By golly, it’s not good to thwart the intentions of the universe! I was able to make events unfold exactly how I wanted them, despite all the signs that said I shouldn’t do it, and I wound up with a thoroughly unsatisfying relationship.
  2. Being referred to as “Her” feels like I’m some evil deity. And as much as I like things going my way, I don’t really like feeling like the villain in my own story.
  3. Respect is not necessary for relationships, but it is necessary for good relationships. I didn’t respect any of us involved—the boy, the girl, or myself. I was playing with power that wasn’t mine to take, and that was a misuse of my humanity and integrity.

 

I can already hear the outrage of some of you reading this: “How could you hurt that poor girl like that?!” “Have you no shame?!” And my answers are: relatively easily, and no. Self-interest makes a lot of things very easy, and shame is a useless emotion. I did not feel shame at the time these events unfolded, and I feel no shame now, looking back. I know many people will want me to feel ashamed of my actions, but if I were a man who had broken up an abusive relationship to get with a woman, I would be hailed as a hero. If I felt shame for all these situations still, all these years later, I would not have actually learned anything. The lessons are worth more to me than self-flagellation.

Of all them, the most important lesson in my own development, though, was my realization that I’m actually okay with me making mistakes. Being the perfectionistic Virgo that I have been for so much of my life has kept me on a pretty short leash, and I think my series of sancha-ing was my own rebellion against myself—my way of proving that I can fuck up and be okay, and still think of myself as a good person overall. I can have those moments (or months) of selfishness and not think less of myself.

I recognize my mistakes, and I learn from them, but I refuse to dwell.

Author’s Note: The term “sancha” is used here as insider language, which means that because of my history with Mexican / Latino culture and because of the cultural and racial diversity within my social circle during the time of these events, I am using the permission of my own Latino-American community to call myself a sancha. This does not give White people in general permission to use such terms, nor does it give me permission to appropriate other people’s cultures willy-nilly. Feel free to continue this conversation in the comments.

Photo by Meggyn Watkins

Photo by Meggyn Watkins

Sex

Me and My Strap-On

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I wasn’t born with my dick. In fact, it took me about three years, lots of money, and a lot of emotional baggage to get it. Now I have it, and I love it, and as I write this, it’s sitting happily on my nightstand: my own phallic muse.

As a budding bisexual at 18, I thought I had done my research on my new queer world. Really, I was just starting to learn about the infinite possible ways to describe myself. I picked up fun words like “queer,” “transgender,” “genderqueer,” “femme,” “butch,” and all sorts of different definitions that people give them. My partner at the time was female-bodied and male-minded, so a lot of my first sexual experiences focused on how to make her dick real for both of us. It was actually really easy. Pretty much anything we wanted could become her dick, given the right mindset. Being incredibly broke lent itself to great ingenuity on both our parts: fingers, cucumbers, even double-bagged rice-stuffed condoms became the dick-fantasy part of our play. (It should be noted that much of this ingenuity stemmed from my then-partner’s punk-DIY attitude, and although it is possible to make a strap-on harness out of bike tires, I would not recommend it.) It wasn’t until we broke up and I delved into an exploration of my new self outside of this relationship that I found some really important literature.

By literature, I obviously mean smut. Smut that triggered all of the internal stuff I’d been deliberately ignoring since I was six years old. After years of playing with trans-masculine folks and helping other people realize that their non-biological dicks were real and felt good and could induce orgasm, I read a smutty story and realized…. I wanted a dick. I get mentally sucked into stories easily, and this one felt so natural that it freaked me out. The characters in the story switched genders halfway through: the Big Bad Daddy became submissive, and the Femme Bottom became the Bad Boy topping. I went right along with that switch: I was the Femme Bottom who started topping halfway through the scene, her dick pumping in and out of her partner’s ass. I wanted to feel my dick during sex. Part of me really was that boy that I’d been ignoring for so long. I promptly freaked out, started crying, and put the book away, as one does when one is closeted from oneself.

Here’s the thing: strap-ons can be a pretty complicated issue, especially in the world of queer women. Some people are strongly in the camp of no-penetration; some people like it but would never in a million years want anything that looks remotely realistic; some people will only strap on if it is realistic. Not everyone who straps on is genderqueer, but it’s been consistent in my experience that if a female-bodied person is in the genderqueer (GQ) realm—that is, not strictly identifying as female—they are more likely to want or have a realistic-looking dildo. And everyone I had seen who identified as GQ had been masculine-presenting. So I was freaking out because I didn’t meet that idea of what I thought “genderqueer” was supposed to look like. But I was genderqueer. I knew I was because of how scared I felt to tell anyone. I look like a girl. I call myself femme. How could I come out as genderqueer? No one would believe me.

I felt ridiculous. Here I was, one of the most active queer students on my college campus, having defended time and time again people’s right to express who they are with whatever word fits for them, and I was scared to tell my best friends that I was genderqueer. I felt like a hypocrite: all that talk of being myself and living my truth, ffttt—gone. It took a little while, and some reading, and some emailing with the author of that smutty story, for me to come out to my friends, but eventually I did. It got easier each time, but I was still nervous about incorporating this part of me into sex.

As I got more comfortable with my identity, I started to think about getting my own strap. I’d strapped on with other people’s harnesses before, at their request, but this was the first time I was thinking of getting one for me. I was nervous. I’ve gone shopping for harnesses a few times now and, every time, I get embarrassed. I always walk in and head straight for the vibrators; for some reason, I’m much more comfortable around vibrators. After a little while, with much hand-holding from my designated support person, I walk over to the harnesses. Then, only after much staring and hand-holding, do I go to the desk and ask the staff for help.

Here’s some of what I learned during the search for my perfect strap:

  • Which material? Harnesses typically come in leather, but there are also fabric and rubber ones out there. Many times, the fabric and rubber ones are advertised as “vegan.” Fabric’s easier to clean, and sometimes the metal on the leather ones rusts after several uses.
  • Briefs, one strap, or two? Briefs come in your standard XS-S-M-L-XL, but they might stretch out a little depending on how much you sweat during sex and how often you use it. One strap means that the harness fits like a thong; two means it fits more like a jock strap. With one strap and brief styles, there’s limited access to the goodies underneath. Two straps opens up access to the goodies, and they tend to be more adjustable, but they don’t always have as much control.
  • Dildo: Realistic or not? For me, obviously, I wanted the realistic one, but some people like sparkly better. Texture is another big consideration: there’s more variation in non-realistic dildos, and the materials tend to be easier to clean than imitation-skin.
  • Material? Most dildos designed for strapping on are silicone, because it holds its shape under a variety of stressors, but other materials are available. “Dual-density silicone” is also out there, which means the inner core is hard and the outer layer is a little squishier, so it keeps its shape, but it’s not as hard going in. Anything silicone can be cleaned by boiling or with warm water and a sex toy cleaner, but the tricky part about imitation-skin is that everything sticks to it (pet hair, dust, etc.).  Elastomers and “gellies” are tricky that same way, but if you boil them, they’ll disintegrate. Unfortunately, because these materials are more porous, any cleaner will stay on them as well, so always use a condom with these ones. (Using condoms over any dildo will extend the life of the toy, too, so that’s just good practice.)
  • Lube? Choosing the right lube depends on the material of the dildo and in which bodily orifice you’ll be playing (i.e. silicone-based lube should not be used directly on silicone toys because it will disintegrate them, and only water-based lubes should be used with vaginas). Ask the staff for help if you’re uncertain. Dildos tend to dry up lube a lot faster than flesh-dicks do, so make sure you have some handy.
  • Dimensions? Choosing the girth is more important than the length, because you can control how much goes in, but if it’s too wide, it won’t fit at all.
  • O-rings? O-rings are the rings that hold the dildo in place. In most one- or two-strapped harnesses, the ring snaps on and you can change it out easily, which is nice if you have more than one dildo you want to use. O-rings for briefs are not easily changed out, but they are pretty flexible and can accommodate several sizes.

For beginners:

  • Start with one of the cheaper styles of harness and dildo so you don’t spend inordinate amounts of money only to find out you’re rather have another style.
  • Go to sex-positive stores, like Good Vibrations or Babeland, where the staff understands that sexy things can be embarrassing sometimes. Friendly and nonjudgmental staff went a long way to helping me feel comfortable when shopping for my still-slightly-closeted intimates.
  • Ask to try on whatever harness you’re considering in the store (over your clothes!) so you don’t go home with the wrong size. But not every store will let you, so know your hip, butt and thigh measurements before you go in.
  • You can buy harnesses online, but you won’t get a feel for the material, which can be important since it will be rubbing on sensitive skin, even when worn over undies. I suggest finding one in-store and looking for the same brand online to save your pockets from too bad a burn—straps can get expensive fast.
  • Jump-start your search:
    • Briefs: Rode-oh (for those with smaller hips) or Tomboi (for those with curvy hips)
    • One-strap: Simply Sexy
    • Two-strap: Malibu Terra Firma
    • Dicks: Silk (3 sizes, smooth), Mistress (smooth), Cadet (realistic silicone) and Mustang (realistic VixSkin)
    • Remember: searching for the name of your preferred dick or harness with “sale” and checking out online warehouses will also likely save you a couple bucks!

Ultimately, coming out as genderqueer has done wonders for my sex life. I was actually able to be upfront when I started dating the person who is currently my partner, which worked out even better than I expected because she turned out to be GQ, too! Sex with her sometimes feels like that movie Zerophilia (the main character switches sexes every time they come). I’ve gone through two harnesses and I’ve found the dick that fits me perfectly. It’s amazing how much better everything gets when I’m actually honest about who I am and what I want.

If a strap is what you want, I encourage you to strap on and enjoy the ride!

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Sex

We Don’t Know: Communicating Below the Belt

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There’s probably no feeling in the world more powerful than knowing you’re wanted, especially by somebody you want in return. That feeling in and of itself can serve as a pretty magical aphrodisiac. What you want is sexy, and what you’re going to get is sexy. Even if the first time you sleep with someone you really like isn’t that great, it still feels great because you were with a person you really wanted to be with. Hormones do all the dirty work. That’s just science. Sexy, sexy science.

But what about the next time you do the deed? What about six months down the line? Or heck, six years? We typically give our new paramours a mulligan if they don’t deliver the Cosmopolitan-front-page mindblowing orgasm we’re craving the first time around… But everyone reaches a point at which they absolutely must speak up. Your partner isn’t a mind-reader, even if they’ve gotten to know you insanely well in every other department. If there’s something you like better than other things, or if there’s something you really do not like at all—you need to use your words!

Ugh, but that’s the worst, isn’t it? That feeling of “Oh my God, if I ask her to do this thing, will she think I’m some kind of pervert?” or “If I tell him I don’t want to do it in that position anymore, will he be unable to have an orgasm? Am I ruining sex for him?” This kind of self-doubt can send anybody’s sexual confidence into a tailspin. And we all do it.

But here’s the surprising thing: you know that powerful feeling of being wanted by someone? There’s also that powerful feeling when you ask for something and you receive it. What a high that is! And what about when someone asks you to do something? Isn’t it sexy when a person knows what they want? Confidence is the most underrated turn-on in the history of mankind. Forget all the weird little things people focus on: sexy lingerie, gorgeous makeup, a body that’s a walking replica of Michael Phelps. In the end, if Michael Phelps’ twin can’t ask for what he wants in bed and autopilots through his sexcapades, he will be far, far less admirable than the regular Joe who worked up the nerve to ask his girlfriend for something kinky.

It can be scary to communicate and tell someone what you want in bed, whether it’s a confession about a secret fetish or even the simple “less that, more this.” But if you stay silent, your sex life (and as a result, your relationship or potential relationship) might never fire on all cylinders. Think of all that wasted potential! That’s no way to go through life, for either party. So find a way to say what you need to say, whether it’s in the heat of the moment or in a totally mundane setting. Whatever’s easiest for you, as long as you’re able to get brave and use your words. And who knows? You might learn some very interesting things about their desires as well, leading to better sex for everyone involved. Everyone wins, big time.

Readers, what are some awesome ways that people can learn to be more open with their partners? What has your experience been?

Photo by Andy Sutterfield

Photo by Andy Sutterfield

Sex

Oh Baby! Sex During & After Pregnancy

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The first time I saw D, I knew I had to have him. We worked at the same hotel, in different departments, and would flirt constantly. I would confidently tell my co-workers “I’m going to fuck him.” They would laugh, but I wasn’t joking—he was going to be mine. After a few months of flirting I finally had an opportunity to nonchalantly ask him out to a bar after work. It was a month before my twenty-first birthday and he snuck me in by giving a twenty to the bouncer (it’s like a bro-code: you have to help your fellow bro hook up with the underage girl by letting her into the bar). During the first few months of dating, all we did was eat, drink, and screw: it was bliss. When things got more serious, and people would ask when we were going to have kids, my boyfriend would always respond “We’re just practicing” and wink at me. But all of those years of practicing didn’t prepare us for the reality of sex after a baby.

I’ve always been DTF (if you have to look that up, I’m sorry) and was not at all concerned about getting down while pregnant. My boyfriend, on the other hand, got a bit apprehensive towards the end because the baby had dropped considerably and he didn’t want to “poke an eye out.”  Positions started to become a challenge with my ever-growing bump. Pregnant women are not supposed to lie on their backs (apparently as your uterus gets heavier, it can potentially cut off the circulation to a major vein going through your body), so that ruled out a couple of  standbys. Then, my belly got too big for me to be on top without it pushing into him and him feeling our daughter’s kicks, which totally freaked him out. But, overall, I remember very much enjoying myself, often even more so than our pre-pregnancy romps. The sex dreams weren’t bad either…

We tried to have “relations” before my due date because we knew it would be quite a while before we could again (longer than we had ever gone before… it was depressing to think about). Doctors recommend that women wait six weeks after giving birth to have vaginal intercourse again and I knew I couldn’t wait that long to get it on. After two weeks, neither of us wanted to wait any longer, but D had witnessed the distress my lady-parts had been put through, and, despite his desire, forced me to wait. We made it another week before we couldn’t take it anymore. I won’t go into vivid details, but it was really great—that is, until we changed positions, and my va-jay-jay was not having it. The most embarrassing part is that we had to put our daughter down in her swing on the floor, and she would not stop crying (she did eventually, but it was awkward for a little bit). Sometimes we have to take drastic measures to fulfill our carnal desires, I guess.

In those three weeks pre-nasty and post-baby, I started reading up on it a bit. I was shocked to find out that many new moms wait months, or even a year after giving birth to have sex with their partners again. It can be pretty difficult to feel sexy after having just pushed a tiny person out of your body, dealing with the pressure to lose the “baby weight,” earning chapped nipples from breastfeeding, and getting little to no sleep. Not to mention, a lot of women tear or rip during delivery (I did), which can make you feel damaged or insecure. I have accepted the fact that my vagina will never be the same, but I couldn’t be happier with what I gained. I did my kegels—and I will be perfectly honest that it took a while before it felt “normal” again downstairs. But, since then, sex has felt even better than before.

Even once the healing has completed, and your partner has patiently waited for his or her turn, another road block is put up: being a mom is a legitimate full-time job, especially in the beginning. Your newborn is 100% dependent on you, and your focus and all of your energy goes to them. There were countless nights where we would say that tonight would be the night we would have some “sexy time,” just to pass out not long after getting in bed. I can remember times when D would come up behind me and would try to start feeling me up and I would disregard him or push him away—totally consumed with cleaning the baby’s bottles and my breast pump for the next day so I could finally go to sleep. Some women are hardwired to put their offspring before anyone else, and their partners bear the burden of being forgotten. It took a long time for me to realize that I was being inadvertently negligent and wasn’t giving him the attention he needed in and out of the bedroom.

When you get down to it, sex is a big part of why you got together with your co-parent in the first place, and it’s how you made that screaming child who is now cock-blocking you from having more. Overcoming the exhaustion and chaos of post-baby life can be insanely difficult but, without intimacy, we would just be roommates or really good friends raising a kid together. At first, putting myself ahead of my child made me feel like a bad parent, but I continually remind myself that I can’t be the best mom I can be unless my needs and the needs of my partner are met, too. We may not be humping like rabbits anymore, but we do our best to keep the fire alive and our passion for each other strong through the many hurdles of parenting.

Photo by Willow Rose

Photo by Willow Rose

 

Sex

We Don’t Know: How Do You Define Your Sexuality?

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“For a lot of people, it’s nice to imagine that humans are simple, and that you can know a person’s sex, and then you will know all sorts of things about them deeply and clearly. And if you don’t fit into this nice little box people who do can get really confused and sometimes even angry—and if you yourself don’t fit into one of these nice little boxes and you think that people should, then you end up hating yourself. And that’s probably even worse. I think the best and maybe only way to solve this problem is for people to understand that there are no nice shiny boxes. Or, if there are shiny boxes, there are an infinite number of them, enough to put all of the people who currently exist, have ever existed, and will ever exist. So, together, let’s understand.” – Hank Green

What is sexuality? This is a complicated question. Wrought with personal, societal, political, religious, familial, cultural—we could go on and on—ideas and expectations. It’s not simple. It’s personal. And it’s incredibly complicated. Sometimes in our attempt to find enlightenment, we find a video that tackles answering a question like this so much better than anything we could write here.

In the following 3:48 video, Hank Green breaks down the complex differences between sexual orientation, sexual attraction, sexual behavior, romantic attraction, biological sex, gender roles, and gender identity. How we define ourselves is a unique combination of where we we fall in all of these independent categories.

http://youtu.be/xXAoG8vAyzI

But, as Hank reminds us, “Many people move across these spectrums, sometimes from year to year, sometimes hour to hour. But what’s really important is that we trust ourselves, and we understand ourselves, and we love and respect ourselves—and we grant that same understanding and respect to the people around us.”

Photo by Meggyn Watkins

Special Thanks to Nerdfigheria Wiki for the transcript of Hank’s video. Watch more Vlogbrothers here.

 

Sex

Nobody’s Perfect, Neither Is Sex!

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My boyfriend and I have been together for a year and a half. That is long enough for the flames of passion to turn into a mere flicker without a bit of effort. Nothing kills a good boner (of the lady or manly variety) quicker than pressure, self-consciousness, or criticism. The key to keeping sex hot while in relationship is to settle into the fact that you’re going to be doing this act with this person many, many, many, many times, so there’s no need to put pressure on any one roll in the hay to be the best in your lives. Instead, it’s about learning each other’s bodies and continually raising the bar.

You’re creating a sexual relationship with your partner and, like all relationships, it will require communication and a little effort to stay healthy and vibrant. The most toe-curling orgasms aren’t planned out: they sneak up on you. And like many things in life and nature, they’re ephemeral. Subtle differences in mood, context, and connection make each sexual encounter unique. The best we can do is set up an environment that invites this kind of magic.

Here are a few tips to fire up the action in your bedroom:

Unpack your bags. No matter your gender, if you’re over the age of 20 then it’s likely that you have some skeletons of the emotionally traumatic variety hanging out in your closet. It is helpful to know some things about your partner’s history. When you know what the body you’re touching has been through, you can touch that body in a way that subtly acknowledges those experiences. This can be incredibly healing and is the first step to clearing the slate for the relationship that you’re creating now.

The flip side: Don’t feel like you have to rush through this process! At a year and a half, my boyfriend and I are both still working on certain deeply ingrained beliefs and patterns.  If you’re suppressing a thought or feeling because you’re afraid your partner won’t understand, this is either a sign that you need to build the courage to speak up or a sign that this isn’t the right partner for you.

The male ego can be sensitive. In my experience, men often do not receive criticism in the moment very well. I’ve had more than one partner over the years ask me to please bring things up outside of the bedroom. It is so much easier to discuss the anatomical / mechanical aspects of sex when you’re not in the middle of doing them.

The flip side: Men, make sure your lady feels like she can talk to you. Lady parts are highly sensitive and personal preferences are as unique as finger prints; if you don’t encourage your partner to share these details with you (which may feel nitpicky if your ego is in the way), you’ll never fully understand how her body works.

The female sex drive is (often) a slow boil. Men, I suggest you make peace with this fact now. After the initial hump-like-bunnies phase, many women start to feel sexual urges in sync with their hormonal cycle. We’re horny when we’re most fertile, which is a bit of a catch-22 if you aren’t trying to make a baby. The key is to know how to warm your lady up in the in-between times. She may not want to jump your bones on sight, but if you check in with her there are probably many things you could do to heat things up. A few standard ideas: massage, cuddling, kissing, heavy petting, etc.

The flip side: Ladies, your man may sometimes need a reminder that you want him, really want him. Make sure you slow down and lavish your attention on him some of the time, too. It can help to make sure that you proposition him some of the time. Surprise BJs are another option for making your man feel extra happy.

Put your focus on your partner. When either partner is caught up thinking about their own wants and needs, he or she isn’t fully present. The quickest way to get out of your head? Stop thinking about yourself. Put your attention on pleasing your partner and all of a sudden you’ll feel your body light up, too.

The flip side: Don’t focus so much on your partner that you aren’t enjoying what they’re offering. If one of you habitually leads or follows, one way to shake things up is to switch roles and see what happens with a fresh dynamic.

Revel in the beauty along the way. Don’t rush to the big O. As long as time allows, savor every moment with your partner. Remember what it was like seeing them undress the first few times. Remember what it was like to hold each other naked when it was new. Even if you aren’t in the mood to go down memory lane, there are ways to slow down and savor. I once saw an article in a grocery store lady magazine (probably Cosmo or Glamour) that pointed to all the parts of sex that it’s easy to overlook if you’re focused on orgasm: from the moment of penetration to the pleasurable plateau that precedes orgasm—the more your mentality is about absorbing and enjoying the whole experience from start to finish, the more enjoyable it will be.

The flip side: Quickies can be really hot. ;)

A note about gender in this article: this article is written from the perspective of a cis-gender, heterosexual female, since that’s the only perspective from which I can knowingly write. I find the gender binary is useful here in teasing out the differences created by the hormones men and women have in their bodies. That said, I hope these tips will be relatable to anyone anywhere on the gender spectrum.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Relationships

Let’s Ask: Why a Polyamorous Relationship Works Best For Me

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UE Writer Emily Knight’s high school buddy Matthew has always marched to the beat of his own drum. An active participant in a polyamorous lifestyle and the Santa Cruz kink scene, Matthew was the perfect person to shed some light on a little-understood relationship lifestyle. Emily and Matthew sat down to work through some misconceptions, explore the benefits, and understand the details of the polyamorous relationship.

Emily: How about we start off with your individual experience. Describe your relationship life.

Matthew: Real or ideal?

Emily: Both, please!

Matthew: Ideally, eventually, I’d like to be in relationships with a group of like minded people working together for common goals. Right now, I’m living with one significant other. We’ve been living together since August and seeing one another for almost two years. During the course of that two years, I’ve had a few much smaller relationships—I went on a few dates, had a few kink experiences—but nothing you’d call a strong relationship or sexual intimacy.

Emily: And how about your S.O.? She is actively poly-amorous, too, right?

Matthew: Yeah, she definitely sees other people. When we got together, she was also seeing a guy with another primary partner, whom she still sees about once or twice a month, and recently she met another person who she sees as well. I’m actually pursuing one of the second guy’s other partners—she’s really cool.

Emily: Wow, that sounds complicated. Are most of the folks in your friends group non-monogamous?

Matthew: Yes, most close friends would identify as non-monogamous or polyamorous—not swingers!

Emily: Oh, really? What’s the deal with that term?

Matthew: There’s nothing wrong with it; it’s just a completely different thing than what we do. Non-monogamous can refer to anyone not in an exclusively two person relationship—including people who cheat on their partners, though that is obviously not us. Swinging, on the other hand, refers to married couples who get together with other married couples and “switch” for the evening. Polyamorous means lots of different things to lots of different people. For me, it means someone who has multiple loving, caring relationships. However, some define it differently. Some folks have one partner with whom they are “monogamous,” but they also have other partners for kink experiences or sex.

Emily: So they would say that these kink and sex experiences they have with others lack the love and care element of their monogamous relationship?

Matthew: Yes. It looks pretty much the same to me, as an outsider, but it’s not for me to define their relationships.

Emily: So is your variety of polyamory more common?

Matthew: Kind of. We look like a standard “couple” who do other things with other people… that makes us more easily accepted. Other polyamorous people often lack that hierarchy of one primary partner and other secondary partners. They try to equally share love and attention among all their partners.

Emily: How is that… calculated? Can you quantify love and attention?

Matthew: Everyone does it differently. And most don’t actually achieve this in reality. People you live with, people who excite you more, those people are going to get more of your attention—just like with friends. But lots of people do refuse to rank their partners. Then, you have polyamorous folks who use hierarchy. Some people refer to their primary or secondary partners—oh, and there are statistically significant others!

Emily: Ouch! What a clinical term!

Matthew: No, it’s actually really interesting. It’s the person you spend the most amount of time and energy on. So it could be a business partner, a roommate, anyone you’re with the most.

Emily: Where do you and your S.O. fit on this?

Matthew: She and I are a little different. We look like primary partners: we buy groceries together, we live together, go on dates, etc. But we don’t really like the idea of ranking. So we view her other relationships (and my future ones) as equally important, no matter how often she or I see them or how long they’ve known each other. It’s not fair to rank people’s emotions.

Emily: That all sounds counter-intuitive and kind of confusing, but I love what you said at the end. When you look at it that way, it makes a lot of sense.

Matthew: But it is important to talk about those emotions. If someone is getting all your Friday nights and the other is stuck with Tuesdays, you should bring it up.

Emily: It seems like there is a big potential for drama. How do you avoid that?

Matthew: I avoid everyone with a propensity for drama—even if I’m attracted to them, even if they’re interesting. If you stick around in the community, you can find out who is with whom and who has had practice in this type of relationship. By living like this, everyone’s communication skills are automatically going to improve. Everyone’s self-awareness and awareness of their own role in a given situation gets better. If you’re in the community for the right reasons, you’ll get better. People who aren’t will not improve and cause drama.

Emily: I know that in high school we would get into arguments and things and a lot of that would stem from poor communication between us. I don’t know about my own skills, but I’ve noticed that your communication abilities have gotten a lot better as we’ve grown up a bit. Do you think that comes from polyamory?

Matthew: Yes, and motivation. I work hard to build up my communication skills and look for relationships where we can work toward common goals. Most don’t see it this way, but… I know my own goals.

Emily: Well you’ve always been that way: very straight-forward and blunt, with clear directions.

Matthew: Still working on it! Seriously, though, I’ve had some really good experiences with people who are really good at communication. The Santa Cruz kink group I’m part of has some very good leaders. One in particular “gets off” at making people feel understood. Seeing how other people do the things that I want to do and do them well really helps. Being a part of the kink group and various other meet-ups, like Poly Pocket—

Emily: No way!

Matthew: Ha, yes, it’s a great name! Anyway, groups like this have social interactions at the heart of them. So we drink tea and eat cookies and just have great conversations. We have the really interesting conversations on feelings and they all took this same route:

Person: This made me feel ______.

Me: Why did you feel ____?

Then, of course, the person gets defensive, but then we have a really good conversation and I understand better where that person is coming from. People would get upset with me for not understanding the basics of emotions, so these conversations were a huge step for me to start understanding and using words for emotions and understanding the emotions of others better.

Emily: This kind of is starting to bring me to my biggest question about polyamory—jealousy. What role does that play in people’s relationships, and how do they navigate it?

Matthew: Some people don’t get jealous. My S.O. doesn’t at all. Other close friends don’t either. I am not one of them. It’s something to work on, like willpower. I’m analytical, so I look at it this way. I take apart the emotions: why am I feeling this way, how can I stop it? I was in a mono-poly relationship—

Emily: A what?

Matthew: I was monogamous to her, but she was polyamorous—not recommended. I was just hit with all these womps of jealousy—feeling left out, wanting what my partner had, wanting what my partner was giving, feeling not cared for… so those are the worst.

Emily: That’s how I’ve felt it in the past as well.

Matthew: Yeah, and that’s a very common way to feel jealousy. The other way would be anger-jealousy, but I have the “womps.” And I’ve been working on this for… six years. The entire time I’ve been polyamorous. So one thing I do is work to parse out why I’m feeling this way, for each situation. Another thing that’s really common is to take baby steps in a relationship. You set up rules for the relationship and slowly take them away. So I might say, okay, we can go on dates, but no kissing. Now we can kiss other people but no sex. Okay, we can have sex with other people, but no kink.

Emily: So setting up rules on what is allowed physically, that makes sense.

Matthew: Yeah, and there are emotional rules, too. Like call me after your dates, check in with me this often, etc. Or don’t tell me anything; I don’t want to know. This one is often less healthy, but it happens.

Emily: Do most polyamorous relationships have rules?

Matthew: Not always. The healthiest relationships may or may not have rules, but they have always have a groundwork of comfort and communication. So if my partner knows what will hurt me and she loves me, then she’ll just choose to express her polyamory in non-hurtful ways, and vice versa.

Emily: That makes it sound really… doable. It always sounded like something I would never be able to make work, because I knew I would be too jealous. But I love this idea of using rules and setting groundwork to avoid it.

Matthew: And the thing is, all relationships have “rules.” It’s just in polyamorous relationships, these rules are laid out, whereas in monogamous relationships, the rules are implied and everyone is just expected to know them.

Emily: Mind. Blown. That’s true!

Matthew: It all goes back to communication. If you lay out rules, it sets you on a much better playing field. My S.O. and I don’t have rules. We talked about it and we don’t like the idea for us. Instead, we trust each other’s judgment and focus on open communication for what we are comfortable with and what hurts us.

Emily: And that circles back to building up those communication skills to make all relationships better.

Matthew: Yes, definitely. Oh, and one more thing about rules—they are also for safety. So rules like wearing condoms can be important, health-wise. And rules like avoiding sketchy meet-ups. There are a lot of benefits and a lot you can cover with rules.

Emily: You mentioned an idea earlier that I want to get back to—people in poly for the wrong reasons. What would those be? Is the horny bro out of place here?

Matthew: Not necessarily! The right reasons would have to do with having lots of different experiences, wanting to meet cool new people and make new connections, or fulfilling different needs, etc. Wrong reasons would be like if someone is pressuring their partner into it because they want to be poly. You also see people get into it to try to save a relationship, and that rarely works. Some people do it because they have low self-esteem and they don’t think they’re good enough to have their loved one to themselves.  You can almost always spot people in it for the wrong reasons, and they usually don’t stay.

Emily: Okay, I have one more major question for you—how did you get into the poly culture? Is it something you always wanted, or did you hear about it and want to try it out, or what?

Matthew: There are two reasons why people get into polyamorous relationships: 1) Monogamy never worked for them. 2) Monogamy never worked for them.

Emily: Ha!

Matthew: A lot of folks had bad monogamous relationships or somehow knew that they could never be happy with just one person.  But I came to poly in a slightly different way. When I was about eleven years old, I looked at my parents and thought, if two people are this happy together, how happy would three people be? And why stop there? Wouldn’t four people be like sixteen times as happy?

Emily: So from your eleven-year-old musing, how did you get here?

Matthew: As a teen, I laid out some steps. Step One: Get comfy talking to girls. I’m still working on that one. No, I mean I still re-lay out my goals, but it’s less often. I probably did it last maybe two years ago. And the goals are always similar—level up my communication, level up meeting people.

Emily: Since your goal is a loving relationship community that works for common goals, are you actively searching?

Matthew: I am very passive as far as meeting people goes. So much is going on in my life. And you can’t force good connections. I go out to events, meet friends of friends. But when I find the right people, that’s just going to happen.

Emily Knight is a Baker/Teacher/Writer Extraordinaire! She is also overly fond of biking, dinosaurs, Trader Joes, YA fiction, and the city of San Jose. Watch her cook food and talk about books here: Lovin’ My Oven: A Blog of Cooking and Reading

Photo by Sara Slattery.

Sex

When a Sexy Secret is Not So Sexy

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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

Sex

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

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“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