Make Love, Not Porn

Cindy Gallop has created a website, Make Love Not Porn, whose goal is to educate people, primarily men who have sex with women (though also a bit for women who have sex with men), about how sex in real life might differ from sex in porn. She did a brief, very enjoyable, presentation at TED about the website and the reasons that she created it.

Here's part of that presentation (self-transcribed. Apologies for any errors!):

In an era where hardcore porn is more freely and widely available on the internet than ever before, and where kids are therefore able to access it at a younger and younger age than ever before, there's an entire generation growing up that believes that what you see in hardcore pornography is the way that you have sex.

And this is particularly exacerbated because we live in a puritannical double standards culture where people believe that a teen abstinence campaign will actually work; where parents are too embarrassed to have conversations about sex with their children; and where educational institutions are terrified of being politically incorrect if they pick up those conversations. And so it's not surprising that hardcore pornography de facto has become sex education.

Now as a mature, experienced, confident older woman, when I encounter this, I have no problem realizing that a certain amount of re-education, rehabilitation and re-orientation has to take place.

The website right now is mainly about straight porn (or should I say "different-sex porn?"), but I think it's a great idea, and perhaps it would be great for people who have sex with those of the same sex to think about how real sex and porn sex differ as well. I have one thing to offer up for man on man sex vs. man on man porn:

Porn World: Bottoms can be feminine or masculine, but tops are always masculine, and either talk dirty, don't talk at all, and only pause to ask "do you like this?" to which the answer, of course, is always "yes."

Real World: Some tops are feminine, and some bottoms love that. Also, it's ok as a top to ask non yes/no questions, and it's great for bottoms to let a top know when they don't like something, and to suggest something else that they would prefer.

Weekly Savaging

So ManOverBored and The Boy About Oaktown are not, in fact, Dan Savage fans.  This might have something to do with the fact that Dan Savage, advice columnist and editor-in-chief of the Seattle Stranger, is one of those rich white gay dudes who has little interest in political organizing that doesn't affect rich white gay dudes.  In short he has been consistently biphobic, transphobic, sexist, fatphobic, and racist and shows no desire to not be these things.

On the other hand, he's the first really sex-positive advice columnist, can be extremely funny, and is usually very good at giving sound, practical relationship and sex advice.  For this reason I have a soft spot for him (and by soft spot I mean, "I own autographed copies of all his books, read his column and download his podcast religiously, and would very much like to have sex with him") but despite my weakness I too recognize that Savage fucks up frequently and have no problem calling him out, as ManOverBored did in this post.

So we've decided to turn our Savage Hate into a weekly column in the spirit of Bitch Magazine's "Petty Jane Criticism Corner."  Enjoy!

For our first official installment, I'm taking issue not with Dan being a dick, but rather with plain ol' bad advice.  In the Savage Lovecast #186, a couple that has been dating for two scant months calls in with a serious issue.  They are a new couple and dig each other, but one wants to live monogamously, while the other wants to be polyamorous.  Neither has indicated a desire to compromise on the matter, and were calling into Dan for confirmation about what their heads were telling them - "We're fucked," as they put it - contrary to the desires of their hearts, because they are clearly infatuated with each other.

Now the Dan I know and love (with reservations) is a big proponent of Dumping The MotherFucker Already (DTMFA) and has repeatedly said that people with irreconcilable sexual differences should not be in relationships with each other.  So I was prepared for Dan to reinforce what this couple already knew - that they shouldn't be together.

Instead he calls them back and suggests they "compromise."  What?  Compromising on being monogamous is like being "kinda" pregnant.  It's not really possible.  He went on to say that couples in long-term relationships can often compromise on these sorts of issues, because they really want to be together.

This is true - in the context of, a couple has been together for a really long time, and one of them wants to make a major change, like becoming non-monogamous - to the relationship.  With the basis of trust that is built up in long-term relationships, this can sometimes work.  It can also end in giant flaming disaster.  But to suggest that a new couple proceed in the relationship for "six months to a year" to see if they could decide to compromise was some of the worst advice that I've ever heard.  While it may be painful for them to break up now, it will likely be far harder for them to disentangle themselves after a year of serious dating when their irreconcilable differences make it impossible to continue.

If they go forward as Dan suggested, the monogamous partner will always feel as if she is trying to "be enough" for her polyamorous partner.  She will never feel secure.  Meanwhile, her polyamorous partner, if he agrees to monogamy for the short term, is going to feel resentful at being forced into a lifestyle that he's clearly not interested in.  That is not a solid foundation upon which to build a relationship.  It's hard enough negotiating non-monogamy within the confines of an established, previously non-monogamous relationship - but these kids aren't even going to have the chance to build it.  They were right - they're fucked, unless one of them magically becomes OK with a lifestyle that they are currently adamant they do not want.

Bad Dan!  Bad!

Biphobia: Real and Relevant

"...For homo and hetero define themselves as opposites, however social science instruments like the Kinsey scale and the Klein grid keep demonstrating that purity is a cultural artifact.  And identity politics as well as science has an interest in keeping them opposite.  To add "bisexuality" as a third category here is not in fact to refine the terms of analysis but instead to expose the radical limitations of rights-based arguments when linked to a concept of fixed identity." - Marjorie Garber, "Bisexuality: The Eroticism of Everyday Life"

There was a recent discussion in a friend's blog in which a lot of people understandably lambasted bisexual activist Kyle Schickner's "report" (I use this term loosely) about the lack of bi visibility at the 2010 GLAAAD awards in Los Angeles.  The article, in addition to being poorly written, had some problems, notably his description of trans folk as having "leapfrogged from the bottom rung of the queer community past bisexuals by developing a community and iconic celebrities."  The mainstream LGTBQ movement is at best dismissive of, and at worst, actively hostile and transphobic to trans people, and to set up this false dichotomy of trans versus bi (ignoring the many bi people who are trans).  This can best be described as playing the "oppression olympics," and unfortunately colored what otherwise was a very fair point: that bi visibility has been significantly reduced since the 1990s, and that this is due to many factors, the most significant of which is a lack of a cohesive, political bisexual community within the LGTBQ movement. 

But as the comments over Schickner's piece raged on, it became clear that many people who are queer or queer allies were incredibly dismissive over whether biphobia even exists, or whether bi activism is necessary or valid.  The reasoning being that if one is visibly bisexual then the only  oppression one experiences is homophobia And if one is not visibly bisexual (the assumption being that someone in a "heterosexual" pairing cannot be visibly bisexual, which is problematic in and of itself) then that person receives straight privilege, thus invalidating the concept of biphobia.

The argument goes that gay and lesbians, being part of an oppressed group, cannot have any institutional power over a privileged group - bisexuals being assumed to generally fall into the latter.  And yet when you have examples like a self-described LGTBQ sports organization actively discriminating against bi people for "not being gay enough," it makes me wonder if the traditional model of privilege becomes too simplistic when talking about issues within queer communities.  It seems that this is an area where a model based on intersectionality would be a more functional way of analyzing these issues as opposed to a black and white view of "real queer people" (i.e. queer people who are not partnered to other-sex people) versus bi people, seen as people who automatically benefit from an uncomplicated straight privilege due to the assumption that they are or will end up in opposite-sex partnerships and have no other visible markers of queerness.

Part of the problem is that I think most of us, within queer and queer ally spaces, do buy into a particular stereotype of the "typical bisexual" - a cisgendered young white woman who is partnered to a man, and either had some sexual interactions with women when she was single, or occasionally has threesomes with her man and another woman.  I admit, one of the reasons I am still wary of describing myself as bisexual despite knowing, intrinsically, that my sexual desires are very queer, is because I fit into that stereotype.  I know I have experienced very little homophobia in my life (although it would be incorrect to say I haven't experienced any) and don't anticipate facing much in the future, so taking on an oppressed identity felt like appropriating.  But how bizarre is it to define an orientation by the amount of oppression one faces as opposed to who you are?  The underlying sentiment that I see behind the stereotype of the typical bi person and the reaction to Schickner's piece is that bi people are sexual tourists, privileged people who get to flirt with a queer identity in an appropriative fashion who always have the ability to retreat into straight privilege.

This way of viewing bi identity is typical of the main issue bi people face that is actually separate from homophobia: invisibility.  Bi people who are non-gender conforming, who date primarily same-sex partners or are in a same-sex relationship often do not get read as bi at all.  So their existence as bisexuals is invalidated and shoved into the tent of "real queerness" and we're left with the most privileged bi people as the unofficial representatives for everything bi.

I recognize the problems with drawing comparisons between different kinds of oppressions and I will attempt to resist doing that here.  But "passing" is a word that is used in various communities to define how much a person is able, intentionally or unintentionally, to "hide" a socially undesirable identity from mainstream culture.  In most discussions about "passing" (and I acknowledge the word is inherently problematic for multiple reasons) the idea is that any privilege one receives from passing is a double-edged sword.  Someone can pass as something they are not and receive privileges for it, but that doesn't negate their core identity and forces them into a constant cycle of having to chose whether to continually out themselves or not.  The very stress that has to go along with having to constantly make that choice, day in and day out, is largely ignored in the context of most discussions I see about bisexuality.

This factors in with the current accepted narrative that claims that homosexuality is inherently an inborn trait, as is straightness.  What would follow from conclusion, which is simplistic but may be based in some degree of fact, is that bisexuality is similarly an inborn trait, but it isn't treated as such.  It often seems to me that the notion behind a biological root of homosexuality is the idea that no one would choose gayness if they were able to.  Bisexuals fuck up that narrative by having the ability to "choose" to live either a gay or straight lifestyle yet by the very act of acknowledging themselves as bisexual they refute and refuse the binary.  This is obviously threatening, primarily to straight people who don't want to confront the issue of sexual behavior as a choice, but also to the modern mainstream gay rights movement which depends on the idea that gay people really just can't help it - they're born that way.

How does this relate to biphobia?  One of the main reactions to someone coming out as bisexual is a "yawn" or "why does this matter?"  Those reactions are telling.  Because bis have the ability to choose, their queerness is invalided, both by straights, and yes, sometimes by gay people as well.  It's a "yawn," as in, "Why would you tell me this?  Your sexual behavior doesn't concern me.  You're really straight and looking for attention."  Or it's "Why does this matter?  What you do with your sex life is of no concern to me."  While gay people get these reactions as well, from what I've seen it's more pronounced with regards to bi folk, because their sexual orientation is conflated with their sex lives.  There was a time when gayness was reduced to same-sex acts, but mainstream gay rights organizations have gone a very good job of presenting gay people as a"just like straights" - married, picked fences, and so on.  And this works, because if we "heteroize" gay behavior to be "Just like straight people, - biological, inborn, but with the same sex instead of the opposite sex," then it's less threatening to straight people as they don't have to really question their own potential queerness.  This has been defined as "homonormativity" by Lisa Duggan.  From Wikipedia:

"According to Penny Griffin, Politics and International Relations lecturer at the University of New South Wales, homonormativity upholds neoliberalism rather than critiquing monogamy, procreation, and binary gender roles as heterosexist and racist.^[30] Duggan asserts that homonormativity fragments LGBTQ communities into hierarchies of worthiness. LGBTQ people that come the closest to mimicking heteronormative standards of gender identity are deemed most worthy of receiving rights. LGBTQ individuals at the bottom of the hierarchy (transsexuals, transvestites, intersex, bisexuals, non-gender identified) are seen as an impediment to this elite class of homonormative individuals receiving their rights.^[31] "

You'd think it would be a big "duh" to say that defining a queer person primarily through how they have sex is horrible, but this is the common way that bi people are spoken of on mainstream gay blogs and communities, even though this is exactly the same line of thinking that has dehumanized and sexualized gay people within straight society.  Bisexual behavior is far to often treated as a kink, or a sideline sexual interest, as opposed to being part of someone's identity.  Mainstream gay rights organizations may have been somewhat successful in desexualizing gays, but this has never happened for bis, and won't be able to happen until we move past the simplistic narrative of being "born gay" or "born straight."  The inherent radicalness of bisexuality forces everyone to confront the full spectrum of human sexuality, and for that reason it's threatening.  Bisexuality, as something that is not just a biological imperative but an active choice, resexualizes the narrative of queerness. 

As I've said before, I am not anti-identity politics.  It has been an incredibly valuable way to inspire individual and community pride, as well as an essential organizing tool for achieving tangible political gain.  But when speaking in a holistic sense about "sexual orientation" or "sexual identity" identity politics does not provide the tools to speak about someone's full experience.  A cisgendered bisexual person in a heterosexual relationship may often pass as straight, and in that sense they absolutely have privilege over many other queer people.  Yet that passing is fraught.  Bisexual people are constantly judged on the basis of their sexual and relational choices, not just by a homophobic straight society, but by the queer community that demands they prove their queerness as the price of admission.  Bisexuals are the "other" in both worlds.  Straights wonder why bisexual people would choose to be out as bisexual, when they could easily pass - as in, "Why are you wasting the straight privilege you could have?"  It seems like no one cares how bis actually experience privilege.  Tomorrowshorizion wrote about this experience on Feministing: "My experience is that being initially granted straight privilege often just makes the backlash more vehement than if we'd just be read as queer in the first place. We're not just seen as weirdos, but also as traitors once they figure it out."
 
Meanwhile, there is real emotional pain and frustration associated with the difficulty of not being accepted in the queer community while being rejected by the straight world that is ignored in the larger discussion about privilege and power.

I'm not saying we shouldn't call out bis in queer spaces when they engage in homophobia or act in privileged ways.  Of course we should, and bis, particularly those of us who benefit from striaght privilege, have a responsibility to own that and know when our voices are oppressive to other queer people.  That said, the way I see things framed in current discussions about privilege ignores the complexities of bi identity and lives. Identity politics have been very helpful, but what happens when it bumps up against individualism and shitty Internet behavior?  We get a narcissistic version of the oppression olympics in which the less privilege you have, the more you "win" - win at what, I haven't quite figured out yet.  It seems obvious that oppression isn't a zero sum game, but in many queer and feminist spaces online and in the real world, it's certainly treated as such.  Thus someone is who is bi and out becomes a target, because being bisexual, they are admitting to having access to straight privilege, and thus their experience of queerness is made irrelevant.  If that's not biphobia, what is?

The Fine Line Between Feminist and Asshole

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More dealbreakers

So, a day or two after I posted about online dating dealbreakers, I found out about this book/TV show: "Undateable: 311Things Guys Do That Guarantee They Won't Be Dating or Having Sex." Unsurprisingly the book was written by a lady who lives in Chicago (who should know that dudes in Chicago commit these offenses all the time and get laid anyway), but the TV show relies heavily on the opinions of cast members of Jersey Shore and Real Housewives, so I'd advise on taking it with a grain of salt.

What kind of amazed me though, is how many of the "undateable" qualities my WORST BOYFRIEND EVAR exhibited, down to the crocs, man boobs, bad facial hair, squalid apartment, and cat ownership (this isn't actually a dealbreaker for me, I'll get to that in a second). Let this be a lesson to the ladies- never date a man for his "mind" alone- there is no need to be altruistic with your pussy. There are plenty of hot smart guys, there's no need to settle for a gross one. At least that way you won't hate yourself when/if it ends in a text message breakup (it did, and I wanted my money back).

Back to the cat ownership- so not a deal breaker- I would totally date the guy on the bottom left hand corner of the book cover, and the cute boys with cats tumblr is basically the BEST THING EVER. What is a dealbreaker is when you date a dude (like WBE) who doesn't clean the catbox until the entire apartment stinks to high hell. Not ok.

Anyway, I think straight women can get around most of these by dating straight or bi men who look/dress/act like gay men. That's been my M.O. and it hasn't failed me yet.

The Problem w/ Poly, Part 1

My boyfriend's poly. I'm not.

Sounds like tagline for a Valtrex commercial, doesn't it? (Actually, let's stop while we're ahead with that train of thought.)

I'm not poly. My desired level of exclusivity isn't tied up in my identity. More than anything, I want emotional intimacy and connection, and I find it’s easier to get that on a deeper level if I have a commitment with one person, regardless of whether or not that’s an exclusive commitment. I am comfortable with occasional consensual dabbling outside of that commitment, but I don’t need it to be happy. I was very, very slutty in my youth. I'm mildly slutty now. Once upon a time I struggled with monogamy and thought I just couldn't do it. Now I find monogamy pretty damn easy. I work full time. I have friends, a home, hobbies, and a relationship with myself. I am lucky if I find one person I want to date regularly. Just thinking about trying to maintain multiple love relationships makes me tired.

I am not hating on non-exclusivity. I understand the benefits perfectly well. But for me, my ideal non-exclusive situation involves having the open door in those situations that make monogamy challenging- like when someone hot wants to make out with you at a party, or when you meet someone so enticing that it tempts you to stray. But the idea of actively seeking out additional partners when already in a steady relationship? IE, continuing to play the dating game once I’m already in a relationship? No thanks. For me, the whole point of having a boyfriend is that I no longer have to go on awkward dates with a lot of people. When I was younger, less experienced, and had more free time, it was a much more appealing prospect, but I also was a lot less particular about what I wanted from the people I dated.

I understand that for some folks, this “abundance of possibilities” keeps their relationship(s) exciting. But if I'm already getting laid regularly by my hot boyfriend, and I have a choice between going on a date with someone new or staying at home and watching True Blood and having a beer after an exhausting day of work? I'll take the latter (like I said, ten years ago, it would probably would have been the former). And if I'm at a play party and someone cute approaches me to play, that's rather a different story. But the reality is, I don't have time for multiple relationships in my already rather crowded daily life. Or rather, it's not a priority for me at this point of my life.

I will preface all this by saying I spent my twenties being rather slutty, and though I've lost count of my exact number of sex partners, it's probably somewhere in the eighties. I've fucked men, women and transfolks of all races, ages, shapes and colors. Kinky, vanilla, oral, anal, vaginal, fisting, pegging, group sex, snowballing, professional phone sex, golden showers, public sex- even if I didn't like it, I've at least tried it. I've drawn the line at animals, scat, snuff and children- otherwise, I've probably done it.

I've had more sex in my twenties than many people will have in their entire lives. I know my tastes and the nuances of my sexuality very well, and I've satisfied any number of curiosities. And I can tell you, with no regrets, that if I met the right person (and they would have to be as freaky as me), I would be very happy to be married and monogamous, as long as they were committed to having an active ongoing sex life with me. There was a point in my life where fucking a lot of people was a really exciting prospect. Now I'm a lot more turned on by going deeper with one person I have a really intense bond with. Because the truth is- I will play rougher, dirtier, nastier and more intensely with someone I trust, who knows me fairly well. Novelty and variety just doesn’t compare to that, for me.

The problem is, the people who are as freaky as me are generally not monogamous. Monogamy has come to seem borderline passe in the queer and kinky communities of Chicago. And I know from firsthand experience that trying to force somebody to be monogamous when they don't want to be doesn't work very well, having been on the other end of the equation when I was younger and hornier. This seems to be the sad irony of my life- I seem to attract monogamous people when I want to be non-monogamous, and vice-versa. I became involved with my current boyfriend even though he was seeking polyamory and I wasn't, because I liked him enough as a person and a sexual partner that this wasn't a deal breaker. As long as he prioritizes our relationship and handles himself well, his polyamory is not a deal breaker for me. And even if I am less interested in pursuing concurrent relationships, I still enjoy having the freedom to play with others as opportunities arise.

However, I do not call myself poly. Occasionally non monogamous or non exclusive, yes; poly, never. This all ties in to my earlier post "why I am not bi." To say I am non monogamous has a neutral connotation to me. To say I am Poly has an entire lifestyle philosophy hitched to it, a lifestyle I find myself at odds with on a regular basis. In part two, I’ll go into my specific issues with polyamory, and why I once embraced the label and lifestyle and why I now find it doesn’t work for me at all.

Until then, if someone could please explain why a bunch of stick figures riding a broomstick together represents polyamory, I'd appreciate it.

Online dating dealbreakers

I don't necessarily believe that it's safer to date people you meet in person as opposed to the internet. Some of the biggest crazies I've dated I've met in person. If anything, the internet allows you to screen people a little more thoroughly ahead of time and opt out faster.

One of my challenges in being in an open relationship is there just aren't that many people I consider dateable or even fuckable. Especially from the online pool. Join me as I share tales of some of my favorite online dating dealbreakers- in these cases I had actually been considering going out with the person until these things happened. Most of these are from OKCupid unless indicated otherwise.

-Aging hipster dude: "I don't expect you to fuck me on the first date, but I expect you to wear nail polish, eyeliner, lipstick and the dress from your profile photo." Actually no, you're not my personal stylist. He also claimed there were "no datable women" in the entire Detroit Metropolitan area, which makes me wonder what he's doing wrong.

-23 year old college student, claimed to be bisexual and kinky. I sent him a text message mentioning I was going to a play party, he replied he "wasn't comfortable with that sort of thing," and then admitted he had virtually no experience with kink, and "is that a dealbreaker?" Yes it is, son. Honesty is the best policy.

-Short Latino Dom off of Craigslist (this was a few years ago). We had a perfectly nice pg rated phone conversation, and the night before our first planned date, he sends me a text out of the blue asking if I like buttplugs. I reply that I feel like it's a bit soon to be discussing this, since I haven't met him yet. "Wrong answer," he replies, and never speaks to me again.

-Bearded poly dude can't stop gushing about how great I am and how much he likes me when he hasn't met me yet and we've barely chatted. I tell him that maybe he should reserve judgment until he's actually met me. (Everytime a guy decides they're "crazy about me" before meeting me, they're generally bad news). He asks me if I have a "self esteem problem" and says I shouldn't be so "emotionally guarded" about showing my deepest feelings to strangers on the internet, because "what's the risk?" Big red sirens going off. BUH BYE!

-Cute, interesting-seeming scholarly punk dude, seemed ok over email, but kept sending me "wacky" nonsensical text messages that I guess he thought were clever but were actually just incredibly annoying, and making up weird nicknames for me. I actually bumped in him by accident at an event and got the BIG CRAZY vibe.

-Super hot bisexual musician guy, sent me naked photos. Found out from a friend that she'd gone on a date with him, he'd insisted on trying on her clothes (without her permission), told her to spank him, then left, never to talk to her again. Never went on a date with him, but one time he spotted me through the window of a store where I worked and asked me if they were hiring.

-Hot, emotionally damaged yet witty underachiever with excellent taste in music. Began bombarding me with tales of his bedbug problem, sexual addiction, and existential misery via gchat on a constant basis, sight unseen. Ok, I actually did hang out with him (and fuck him) after 2 months without sex following a shitty breakup. Probably more trouble than he was worth, but the rebound sex was good, and it got me over my ex. Was deeply confused by his assertions that we were more than fuckbuddies, we were "good friends!" when I decided to stop hooking up with him.

I am continually impressed by how inept people are at crafting online dating profiles and facilitating communication. For example, I recently spotted the profile of a dude I thought was reasonably hot and shared a lot of my more obscure interests, but he kept asserted "this is an act of revenge!" over and over again in his profile, and alluded to a bad break-up. In that case, you're not ready to date- online dating should not be treated as an "act of revenge," though I suspect a lot of people don't understand that.

Maybe next time I'll talk about the worst first dates I've lived through.

The Problem with Sex Rehab

The Red Eye, the Chicago Tribune-subsidized free daily for the Hoi Polloi who find reading a real newspaper too intellectually challenging, had a feature article about sex addiction and rehab today. There seems to be an epidemic of high profile people going into sex rehab lately (Tiger Woods, Jesse James et.al.) For me, it raises the question- is sex addiction real, or a convenient cop-out for getting caught fucking around? More importantly, is the current treatment strategies in place valid, or a reflection of a judgmental, sex negative culture?

The article focused on a local sex addict in treatment whose obsession with internet porn “almost cost him his marriage and his job.” Now he sends his browsing history to his wife and pastor daily to “hold himself accountable.”

I totally get that it’s possible to have an obsession with porn that does cross into harmful addiction territory, such as looking at it at work, neglecting your partner in favor of porn, etc. But what really sticks in my craw about this is the part about sending his browsing history to his pastor and wife. I will bet you money that there’s a zero-tolerance for porn policy happening in his personal life and community. I can’t help but wonder what his relationship with porn would be if instead his wife said something like “hey, it’s cool if you look at porn when you're not at work, as long as you make fucking me your first priority.” It's possible that this dude is so obsessed with porn that there is no middle ground, but there's nothing that makes you want something more than being told you can't have it ever.

I also question the 90-day abstinence sex rehab program at Promises mentioned in the article. 90 days without partner sex, I understand, but this parameter also includes masturbation. A friend challenged me to thirty days without masturbation a few years ago, and I lasted 9 days before I decided it was bullshit. I spent those nine days irritable and constantly obsessed with sex. Is that really productive for someone who is trying to de-emphasize their sexual obsession?

I do believe that sex addiction is real, because the chemicals that sex and new partnerships trigger in the brain are addictive (more so for some people than others, I'm sure)- it creates a DIY meth lab in your brain. I know this first hand, because I've wondered if I'm a sex addict at times. I’ve compulsively had sex with people I knew were bad news because I wanted that high. I've fucked people off the internet the first time I met them. I’ve had sex with several people in a 24-hour period because I got off the sense of power. Ironically I met my current boyfriend shortly after crying to my therapist that I was an untreatable sex addict. But ironically, once I’m in a relationship, I seem to be able to keep those impulses in check, and have a healthy sexual connection. (Yes, I fuck my boyfriend’s brains out on a regular basis, but I don’t see that as a problem). So am I a sex addict, or just human that makes bad choices at times? And does the fact that I’m a woman play into the shamefulness of my past compulsive sexual behavior- ie would these behaviors be considered more “normal” for men?

Sex addiction is clearly a grey area disorder, like food addiction. You can’t get rid of sex or food completely, and it can be harder to manage an addictive disorder when the addictive stimulus is constantly present, and even a necessary aspect of life. I also believe that “sex addiction” can be highly contextual- I think a lot more of us would be sex addicts if we had the option. It’s a given that it’s easy for men with money and power to fuck a lot, I don't know if this really counts as sex addiction or just human nature. OTOH, one of the most successful manwhore/sociopaths I’ve ever met was fat, unemployed, short-dicked, and well into his forties who was an expert at emotionally manipulating women for sex. So what is the ultimate motivating stimulus behind compulsive sexual behavior? The chemical high, emotional insecurities, or in some cases- simply availability?

I am curious how sexual addiction would be “treated” from a sex positive standpoint that didn’t require swearing off masturbation and porn, or if it would even exist in the same way if our society didn’t demonize sexuality and promiscuity.

Memoirs of a Unicorn

I am too GGG for my own damn good.

While I understand and appreciate Dan Savage’s fundamental principal of being a good, game and giving lover, I think there are many times it has led me astray. Like putting up with a crazy boyfriend who insisted on wearing a wrestling suit during sex, every time. Really, sometimes it’s okay to be NOT GGG. Namely, being the unicorn for people that you are not in a relationship with.

Last night my boyfriend asked me if I’d ever be into having a threesome with him. I replied that only if it was with him and another dude. I’ve been the unicorn too many times. The “hot bi babe” the boy-girl couple recruits for the threesome, then sends home in a cab a few hours later after they’ve enjoyed “spicing up” their relationship for a night.

I will admit that I did a lot dumb stuff in my twenties out of curiosity, for the stories, or simply because I like making people happy. FFM threesomes, while occasionally fun, and often problematic, have never really been my fantasy. MMF threesomes, on the other hand- bring it on. They just makes more sense logistically in terms of stick to hole ratio, but every time I get one lined up, someone backs out. And goddamit, karma owes me one for being the unicorn so many times over.

Having reached the ripe old age of thirty, I am frankly bored with being the person who makes someone else’s fantasy come true when there’s nothing in it for me. Oddly enough, although I’d participated in any number of orgies, play parties, and poly triads by my late twenties, I was 28 before I had my first threesome. I had a lot of FFM threesomes when I was 28, enough to pretty much lose interest in FFM threesomes forever.

I’ve read somewhere that it’s good etiquette to make the outsider party the focus of attention in a threesome, but I’ve never experienced that to be the case. Generally speaking, the FFM threesome is mainly for the benefit of one player in particular- and usually (though not always) it’s the man. At its worse, this manifested as one occasion where I helped a Domme fuck her husband’s ass- until he came and rolled over, and she walked away, and I hadn’t even taken my panties off! (And we’d supposedly negotiated that I was supposed to be the focus of the scene? After he got fucked, of course, and once he got fucked, he forgot all about that…)

On another occasion, I went down on the female primary partner of a guy I was dating while he watched in bondage. Once untied, she fucked him while I sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and I got sent home in a cab without getting off. Later she told me she “viewed me like a sister.” Ouch.

There was one couple I played with where I really felt like everyone had a good time- they were both hot, adventurous, and giving. Until they started texting and calling me non-stop with bizarro, controlling drama and power plays for the entire week following the hookup.

Honestly, I just find it easier to have sex with one person at a time. Margaret Cho once said something to the effect that a threesome is like trying to jam way too much stuff in your mouth at one time. She has a point, metaphorically and literally.

I’m hanging up my horn and relinquishing my hot bi babe duties to the younger, more curious, less jaded ladies. It’s time to be GGG for myself.

Why I'm not bi (anymore)

Hello, I’m GAOT and BAOT’s friend Girl About Chi Town, GACT for short, and will hopefully become a regular contributor to this blog. I'm a 30-year-old Bay Area native, Midwest transplant by way of LA and Japan.

I’m also a genderfluid heteroflexible androfemme queercentric sometimes nonmonogamous but never poly cisgirlfag. Do I sound like an asshole yet? I wasn’t always an asshole, identity politics made me this way.

Ten years ago, I was simply poly and bi, and life was a simpler (naive-er?) place. I've outgrown both of these labels after feeling repeatedly burned by them, and coming to better understand myself and the way these labels don't fit properly. In this entry, I am going to tackle the bi label only.

Ten years ago I didn’t understand why people were so reluctant to claim the bi label or why many former bis ditched the label to fall to one side or the other of the party line. I DO believe that bisexuality is real and I have mad respect for the people willing to put up with the bullshit that comes along with claiming the label. Because IT FUCKING SUCKS.There's already been a lot of talk on this blog about the queer community's negative attitudes towards bi people. The "B" in LGBTQIA feels a whole lot like lip service sometimes.

I will openly admit, I prefer cismen at this point of my life. My relationships with women have been consistently exhausting and drama riddled, no doubt because many of them fell in the context of poly situations where it was never really about just me and that one woman. (The way that the bi community has tied itself up part and parcel with polyamory is another piece of the problem that I'll avoid going into here). I keep saying I'm swearing off women for good, and yet, I never completely do. I still think women are hot, even if I don't currently want to be in a relationship with one. But I have retired the "bi" label, probably for good.

You know what it all boils down to at the end of the day?

You get a lot more shit from the queer community for being a bi woman who prefers men than being a “straight” woman who occasionally dabbles with girls. I could even argue that this sort of dabbling is expected and encouraged in our culture.

I don't consider myself straight and I've always lived, worked and breathed in the queer community. I'm queer oriented, but nothing is going to change the fact that I like dick, and I don't feel compelled to lie about this fact. So I ID as queercentric instead of queer, and heteroflexible instead of bi, and I'm bulletproof. Sorta. (Not really, but it's marginally easier than being bi.)

Nevermind the impressive numbers of lesbians I know of who fuck men on the DL and lie about it. Whatever helps you sleep at night?

I feel like labels are one of those things that generally work better in theory than in practice. Sure, we all agree that in theory, a queer identity can mean any number of non-normative sexual orientations. But in reality, if I claim a queer identity as a ciswoman, people generally assume I’m a dyke, and take issue when it turns out I actually like dicks. This results in a lengthy conversation where I am required to justify my queerness. Really, wouldn’t it just be easier for me to ID as hetero, if that’s what I am (in their eyes)? Why am I making this harder on myself? My queerness is not necessarily about liking to fuck women (which is why I go by queer and not dyke), but the time and energy involved in explaining the nuances of the unique and special snowflake of my queerness gets real tiresome, real fast.