Tag Archives: talking about sex

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

I had an end-of-the-night chat on Twitter with my friend Tris Hussey (@TrisHussey), one of Vancouver’s best WP blogging smartie-pants, about the strange life of being a vanilla girl in a sex-blogger-world.

It’s had me thinking since, which is why I like smartie-pants like Tris.

See, he thinks the world needs more sex-positive voices — especially from everyday-peoples like me, I guess.

Me, I still have a hard time swallowing the role. So to speak.

That’s what my whole journey in sex-blogging was about. Discovering my own sexuality in a more positive way, where I no longer judged my tastes or worried what things might suggest about me ethically or morally.

It was a hard fucking battle and I’m not even sure where I am on that road right now because I’ve been abstaining for too long. Just… because. I didn’t want to think about sexuality. I had to think about me.

But I’ve thought about me. I’m a better “me” than I’ve ever been. Now I’m ready to be more. Again.

I think the reason my sex-writing has been so successful at being applicable to the average person is because I am one. I’m not interested in burlesque. I couldn’t give a shit if I ever experience a threesome. I don’t have anything too crazy going on in my closet, can’t tell you about any really freaky encounters or swinging parties. I don’t have really odd kinks, I don’t need to push any boundaries. I don’t need more/crazier/harder to get off than I used to.

I like a little bondage, a little kink, trying creative positions, and have a little thing about sex in interesting places if time/lack-of-visibility allow. That’s about it.

I’m not off-the-charts with my sexuality, and I’m not even promiscuous. I’m old-fashioned.

But I think into every sex life a little doggy-style must fall. Or maybe a lot. It’s open for debate — let’s bang-out a plan of attack. What can I tell ya?

I think sexuality is probably one of the biggest journeys we all take.

How many people ever truly get comfortable in that context? How many people not only get comfortable with being truly sexual, but do so in a healthy way — they don’t overconsume porn, hurt others in their quest for fulfilling needs, or develop unhealthy dependencies on any particular activity, person, or lifestyling?

The world doesn’t have enough oft-laid happy “average” people skipping through life with a “I”ve been shagged SILLY” bounce to their step. How many accountants do you see walking bow-legged on Monday morning, huh?

The attitudes we DO have about sex, unfortunately, are being shaped by really fucked-up messages on the media, in Hollywood, and the internet. Sleeping around’s more popular than it’s been since the ’70s,  STDs are on the rise, people are experimenting left, right and centre because media’s showing all these alternative approaches to us…

But where’s the heart?

Where’s the emotion?

Why’s there such a profound disconnect between what we’ll let ourselves feel in the crotch versus what we’ll allow our hearts to feel?

What the hell are we thinking?

Sigh. Don’t ask me, man. I’m only beginning to even attempt to crack that nut.

For the last 2-3 years, I’ve not been considering sexuality and society as much as I once did. Re-reading my work has reminded me of why I’d been so angry about it all in the past, and has rekindled my interest in being one of the voices to bring some reason to the argument.

I think so much of what’s wrong with us as a society can be explained through our skewed perspectives on sex.

I’m not suggesting getting laid equals world peace.

I’m suggesting that it’s the attitudes we associate with sex that matter, not necessarily about whether we’re getting laid or not.

When we do get shagged, how vulnerable do we truly let ourselves be? How willing are we to let our loved ones into our deeper darker places we’re scared to admit exist? How ready are we to open the doors to where we keep our skeletons?

Sex is the physical realm of mental trust. What you’re willing to do mentally SHOULD translate sexually, vice versa.

Yet how often is that true?

Are you open to others, do you accept all ways of life, can you trust those around you, are you comfortable expressing your needs? Tell me what kind of lover you are, and I’ll tell you the answer to those questions. Again, vice versa.

If everyone was open, trusting of others, accepting of other lifestyles and worldviews, willing to be versatile, able to be vulnerable but also strong when needed, and could let others lead when necessary but follow when called for, what kind of world do you think we’d live in?

Don’t tell me sex can’t heal us.

Don’t tell me sex isn’t an important statement on who and what we are as a people.

And don’t even think of telling me we’re okay.

I’m not crazy about standing up here and being the sex-positive poster-girl. I’m not enthused about the judgment or speculation it promises to hold for me. I’m not happy this job needs doing by anyone.

But there’s no one out there talking about sex for ME.

There’s no one *I* get. No one echoes the battles I’ve fought, the lessons I’ve learned, and the thoughts I’ve had in a way that really resonates.

And I know how alone I felt and how fucked up and self-judgey I was, and for how long.

Someone needs to speak for me.

So I will.

And hopefully it’ll mean a few other people feel spoken for.

Because I’m getting real fuckin’ tired of the people who’ve been doing all the talking so far.

A Case for More Communication

Still not convinced that better communication will up the sexual ante? All right, then read on.

Imagine you get a job. You’re excited about it. It’s dynamic, exciting. Oh, the possibilities, you think. So, you show up, wing it, and you think, “Hey, it’s okay, after I’ve been here and they’ve seen what my stuff is, they’re gonna wanna invest in me. They’ll want to really school me and get me groomed for something better. I’m a contributor. Yeah, they’ll tell me what they really want, when they’re ready to.”

And the management’s over there, across the way. “Wow, you know, he may have something to offer. Hmm. We could use someone like that around here. I know what we’ll do. We’ll wait. When he’s ready to know more, he’ll come to us. Then we’ll really know he’ll be able to deliver. We’ll let him… acclimatize, for now. I mean, hey, he’s doing just fine for now.”

Trouble is, “for now” doesn’t have a shelf life. Do you know when “for now” expires? I sure don’t. And “just fine,” well, it never really makes the cut, does it?

The employee in this scenario? Fucked. Rightly. Right fucked. Why? Pretty simple. Without clear direction, without a clear understanding of how he should perform his duties, he will never have the confidence to take risks that might better his performance, he’ll never really know where he stands, and he’ll never put his all into it. Worse yet, he won’t know how to do his job better, nor what management desires him to do.

If you have a relationship where you’re not telling each other how to satisfy you, you’re going to be like the players above. As a receiver, you’ll be the management — getting loyal, dedicated service that suggests potential and even possibly alludes to brilliance, but always somehow slightly misses the mark, or even worse yet, is highly inconsistent because the areas of excellence go unspoken.

As the giver, you’re just a lowly employee, and you’ll never really know what your strengths or weaknesses are, nor what areas the management perceives most essential to get done. You might just never really know what you should deliver, and maybe, just maybe, you won’t ever really fill the order, if you know what I’m saying.

So, if you manage to get things sorted and discussed, here’s what I propose: Bi-weekly run-downs. Or however often you might enjoy a performance review. Have a conversation over dinner — a private dinner — and discuss the things you’ve enjoyed, the things you’re feeling more of a craving for these days.

Sex is so much like food it’s crazy. We all have cravings, and many of us go through a two-week period where we’re eating Chinese every couple days. Well, maybe sex doggy style’s fitting the bill this week. It’d be nice to share that, wouldn’t it?

We foolishly seem to talk about fantasies only in absolutes. I’d frickin love a Mercedes conververtible from the late ’60s, y’know, but this week I’ve been feeling a little more like taking the bus since the weather’s so dodgy and the traffic so frantic. We go through flavour stages, and it’s there in our sex lives, too, but often in such small, almost inconsequential ways that we often sooner ignore it than address it.

This conversation doesn’t need to be clinical. In fact, I say nay to that notion altogether. I say make it dirty, irreverent, sexy, fun, coy, suggestive, romantic, passionate, perfunctory, whatever gets your rocks off. I say do it over a decadent meal you cook together, and then eat it together in various states of undress with a fine bottle of red wine. (May I suggest throwing some really suggestive footsy into the under-table games? Footsy may not be the most sexually satisfying act, but Jesus, it’s erotic, isn’t it? Mm!) Or skip the food and sit naked on the couch, sipping wine, as you perform demonstrations on each other’s body of what it is you’re discussing / wanting.

You get the idea. Play with it. Play is fun. Play doctor like you did in the bushes as a kid. Hmm. I wonder how T’s doing these days, anyhow. Been a while. Ah, nostalgia.

Anyhow, there’s a New Year’s Resolution for the couples in my audience. Periodical sex reviews. No negatives — only constructive criticism, but really, really try to focus on positives, and try to go with the moment. And never, ever shy away from demonstration… or narration. And if you narrate, be suggestive and coy — this can really add a little of the sizzle bang-bang I’m always talking about.

“And his hand traipses delicately down her torse, lingering over her honeypot… And oh, its owner notices that she has begun to…”

Getting What You Ask For

Words hurt. What we say can hurt others. It can traumatize them. It can lead to unthinkable acts. Without a doubt, words can hurt.

But what we don’t say can often hurt us every bit as much. Unfortunately, as you read this, lovers all over the world are having unnecessarily bad sex all because of words they’re not saying.

Words like, “Honey, not so hard.” Or perhaps, “Can you move a little to the left?” Or quite possibly the worst phrase of all to overlook, “I think we could use a little lube.”

I’m making light of it, to be sure, but honestly, I still feel the best way to dial up a sex life is through talk. I’m not suggesting getting into a discourse on the pros and cons of ratifying Kyoto or anything, but rather, an interactive discussion on whether things are working or not. But let’s come back to that.

I recently received a happy package in the mail from my Secret Santa. In it was a copy of the Better Sex Series on DVD. This was Volume One: Advanced Sexual techniques and Positions.

Now, personally, I didn’t find there was anything really new in the DVD, but I really was glad to watch it. I’ll be keeping it around. It may come in handy with a future lover. It’s a “how to” video that explains a whole lot about sex, and I think it’d probably be useful for any new or even intermediate couple. It echoes a lot of things I’ve always believed.

There was a lot of great information included, everything from how every person’s body will respond differently to stimulation, to the uniqueness of different cocks and vaginas, and a myriad of useful position and technique advice. Great stuff.

It also highlighted the necessity of communication. The program’s participants appear to be real couples who occasionally suck at acting (in that they’re just trying too hard to say the lines right) but they sure as hell have it going on in bed. The couples talk on-screen about aspects of their sex lives correlating to whatever topic might be showing at any given time, from cunnilingus to come, and then you see snippets of them getting it on in rather elegant, if sparse, and nicely lit surroundings, illustrating how hot their sex really is.

(An assumption one might draw if they excelled in naivety would be along the lines of, “Dude, they talked about it and then, whammo! They had frickin’ hot sex! Talking is HOT, dude!”)

There are scenes, though, that illustrate beautifully what kind of dialogue can be used to really spice up your relationship. How? It’ll give you a roadmap for your partner’s pleasure zones. Here’s some questions I think ought to be asked in these scenarios, and some are variations of ones asked in the DVD:

“How do you like having your clit rubbed?”
“What part of your cock is the most sensitive?”
“Is there something I don’t do that you wish I did?”
“What part of your body do you think needs more attention?”
“What do I do that you like the most?”
“What do you like the least?”
“When’s your favourite time to have sex?”
“Please tell me when I’m doing something that doesn’t feel right.”
“I wish we could keep doing this longer…”

You obviously can surmise that having information on any of the above questions would give you a little more insight into your lover. I mean, haven’t you ever had that experience where, when you were younger, you had certain beliefs (political, ethical, spiritual, philosophical, whatever) and you happened upon a book that somehow encapsulated everything you ever believed, and you suddenly just had this totally invigorated worldview?

Not everyone knows that feeling, but I do, and those that do, I bet they know what I’m saying here. If, say, you have an inkling that the way you tickle your lover’s anus when you’re making out, playing naked in bed, but it’s one of those sorta odd taboos you’ve never really spoken about, so it’s almost like a guilty little pleasure when you sneak a little tweak for kicks, right?

But let’s say it finally comes up in conversation. They somehow look up at you, all abashed, and guiltily confess, “I gotta say, I get so, so, so hot whenever you do that thing to my ass, but I’ve been too embarrassed to admit it… and I’d like a little more.”

One little statement, that’s all it takes. I couldn’t care less if assplay is a notion that gets you off or not, but you see my point. Confess your desires, inquire as to theirs, and start fulfilling them. What part of this is so hard to understand?

Not much, I gather. It’s just hard to do. At first. One day, you just come to realize that being vulnerable may get you a little more hurt more often, but wow, the dividends it pays in most of your life is frickin’ killer — especially when it comes to sex. You’ll find that the more you open up, the more you will be rewarded in kind. When that happens, a synergy starts to build between you. There’s something there, more tangible, more open, more adventurous. It’s like you’re finally receiving permission to act.

What’s more, it’ll start spilling out into other areas of your life. You’ll feel more comfortable being open. It takes a while to find the right people who are receptive to it, but once you do, then you need to find a way to get them talking.

And if you can’t get them talking, then at least try to get them to watch something like the Better Sex series. There is help out there, kids. It’s a matter of finding it.