So, I have been reading cheesy lesbian erotica out loud to my partner, I highly suggest it! It’s fun to fantasize and play. Perfect for spicing up an already hot situation. I channeled all of the paperback romance novels I have ever read. It’s all about pretty words baby!

Here is my attempt at true tumultuous titilation. I recommend trying it yourself. Read it to your lover, fuck them gently, then write about it in detail!

Single? Then describe the best sex you have ever had!

Virgin? Then describe your biggest fantasy, usually your imagination is better than reality anyways. 😉

Enjoy…

The bed hole illuminated by lust and a stained glass salt lamp. Laying under the blankets and now wet stained sheets with my fully charged hot pink sateen swan wand (or flaminga tingla as we like to call it) between my legs on the lowest fluttering setting.

Thinking of her smooth, warm body next to mine gets me off every time. Good vibrations feel more than fine.The small side gently cupping my clitoris. Pure bliss. Slowly undulating on it as I ponder my sexual prowess.

I rose from the bed, now fingering through my clothes. As a burlesque performer it is very easy to be this sexy creature on stage.

Once the illusion is over my partners get to see a much more vanilla version of the vixen they courted. I needed to dress up for her. The other day she commented on the sexy red plaid school girl skirt hanging on my rack.

With intention I put it on with a lace garter belt and thigh high fishnet stockings. Patent leather heels. Red lace bra and corset tight with tits held high. No panties, obviously.

I put my crimson overcoat on and it was barely long enough to cover me up. This was the same skirt I got in trouble for wearing in high school because it was too short. I felt like a straight up hooker for hire walking over to her place late at night. (Not judging/shaming sex workers, it’s the oldest profession and I respect them all.)

We had both just gotten out of work and she was tired. She deserved to be served up a little fantasy on a golden platter. Should I pack? Should I put on her strap and seduce my lover with her own devices?

Whenever I have writers block I will picture her wearing that rainbow cock (the time she packed it and fucked me in the tub of tranquility) my Venus with a store bought intergalactic rainbow penis.

She gave it to me (good) for my birthday. Eight inches of pure homosexuality. Seven would be heaven. I put it in the bag just in case we needed it.

I then quickly made my way around the corner, to her warm, loving embrace. The cold air rushes under my daring skirt making my lady bits tingle with excitement.

She was surprised when she saw my painted face creep into her safe space. She just got out of the shower, hair dripping wet. Clean and ready for the bliss she is about to get. Spread her legs like a blossoming flower as I went down on her with a graceful power.

Beautiful budding labia petals drip off of my lips like every sweet surrender kiss, a magnetic endeavor. I am hers to keep, even as she drifts asleep.

I think of her riding my face, I wish I remembered my dreams because I am sure that is what I’d see. I want her on the roof, in the tub for two, or in her car with the moonroof open.

Legs are as open as our relationship. I know in this moment that I need her. I can only speak in poetry after we make love.

Its snowing in April
big flakes falling from the sky
as her hands slip between my thighs
I move up
venus mounts
good times sprout
grinding on her strong jawline
inhibitions fall in rhythmic time
chasing waterfalls
a sirens call
smother
squirt
my juices in her hair
filling her mouth
then we flip
more than drips
she holds my hips
flush to her flesh
as the girl gush comes again
electric rush of nerves
activated by her curves
I am in awe
her full breasts (usually bound in a sports bra)
smack me in the face as
She
fingers one, two, three
penetrate my soft spot
this is so hot
hot sex
then the hot bar
I love that we have the same car
Lets fuck in the HHR
on top of a mountain
with oxygen running low
there is no place to go
but down

(I will forever think about my juices in her hair)

Browsing through the endlessly diverse gauntlet of humans bearing their soul and persona for your consumption.

He has real pretty eyes, she has a great smile, welp thats a mighty fine torso shot, fuckable for sho, not looking for a hookup? WTF are you doing here? Is that person even real? Ew, he is holding a dead deer in his pic and those guys all have fish they murdered. That one likes their truck more than the earth. Military or cop not for me. She seems cool but she has seven kids. That one doesn’t like cats. He’s seems ok but somehow lives 200 miles away. That’s just a blank screen. Lots of couples looking for unicorns (usually a female that will fuck both you and your partner), then the jerks who say they are lesbians when they are actually straight cis men, and then BOOM out of the blue someone you know in REAL life. HMM…

Imagine a friend or acquaintance coming up. You have always found this person attractive but never spoke up. Maybe you just never really got to know them.

They look super hot in these photos, fuck it, swipe right. Ok, whats the harm? Let’s see what happens, they probably swiped left anyways, oh well, here goes nothing, drumroll… IT’S A MATCH!

Holy fuck! Wait, does this mean they are DOWN? Or is it just like yo bro, what up I KNOW YOU! Like are you trying to fuck though? This is a hookup app and we are on here for the same thing right?

It’s super awkward the next time you see them. Do you bring up the match? Do you say anything? How does one put these kind of feelers out?

It’s so hard to do this face to face (like people have done for fucking centuries, hope you can hear the ironic tone there). What did people do before dating apps determined compatibility?

So you match with your super duper sexy friend on Tinder… but what now? They like you back, how do you know if they are DTF or JK lol?

It’s downright scary to approach people sometimes. Hiding behind the little itty bitty screen seems like a cop out, like it is just too scary to be rejected in person.

Swiping away on the hottest hook up app seems so second nature, it is so easy just to place judgement on those we don’t know (or want to know better) based on several photos and a tag line. It is dangerous and sad to merely say I like you or I don’t based on only looks alone, hot or not.

I really think its sad that we have come to this. People sitting next to each other in bars swiping when they should be interacting with other humans in the same room.

My friend matched with a bartender he knew, she was his friend, they always laughed a lot, but until faced with the absolute yes or no of this app he had not pondered the idea of sleeping with her. After all, a lot of people in the service industry use Tinder to bring people into their bars.

“I bet she swiped right for everyone,” he thought. She’s cute, really funny, yea, that’s something I like! So he super liked her at 4am drunk.

The next time they hung out it was obvious that the feelers were being put out on her end. He may not have been entirely serious about the super like, but is still down to fuck if she is. It came down to an awkward moment at the end of the night, she stuck around until closing time and they were the only two left.

The ball is in his court now. Now you have to go deeper than just bullshit ice breakers. You are already past this. It’s now or never, take the plunge and see if she bites.

He did not pursue, figuring that if she liked him for realzies she would have moved in. He must have not liked her that much to not ever really notice it or say it out loud, right?

An impossible filter that I wish was on Tinder is the EX’s and EX’s of your besties. It’s a real bummer to come across someone who is hot and interesting and then realize that your best friend had a bad breakup or hookup story with them. Then you come to the EX’s of your current squeezes and that builds a whole new level of crazy.

Also relatives, that just creeps me out. I would never want to come across one of my cousins on a dating app.

The moment we have all been waiting for, the other day I came across one of my crushes on Tinder. I have always liked her lots, but never felt like I was her “type” (whatever the fuck that means).

She’s hot and talented, we have an incredible friend chemistry, it’s so easy to talk to her, but I never ever imagined she would like me back. I was afraid so I swiped left. Days later she told me that she swiped right.

FUCK! I done screwed up. I told her that I didn’t even see her pop up. I lied. In that moment I should have confessed it all, but I didn’t and now I feel like the moment has passed. Now I will never know if she actually likes me or not, woe is me!

Actually, no, cut the shit, if you like someone tell them IN PERSON. My roomie saw one of my other long term from a distance crushes on Tinder and I literally swiped for two hours straight to find him to no avail. I hope I didn’t go too fast and accidentally missed him!

I won’t pay for this app, not even to go back and swipe the correct way for my future soulmate. What if I go through all of that and we don’t match after all?

Tinder keeps coming up in my regular conversations. I am new to polyamory, so this is one of my new outlets for exploration, although I have not met a single person from it, mostly just small talk.

I got called out for not messaging a friend/acquaintance I matched with. He clearly wants it. This doesn’t mean I am required to go on a date with this person. It just means that I thought they had a cute photo. I was going so fast that I didn’t even know it was him.

I put all this faith in a swipe from someone I like and then I don’t think too hard when swiping myself. There are reasons why I never pursued this dude to begin with, so why now?

Knowing that a person likes you should not be the only reason to go for it. You must like them back and be honest, I am really good at making things awkward and really afraid of rejection.

But how will you know if you don’t just throw it out there? Why are we all so goddamn afraid of rejection? If someone doesn’t like you like that then just accept it and move on. You don’t need them to find worth and love yourself.

I must learn to be my own primary partner. There will always be someone else to date! I swear.

It’s a little more weighted in this case. If you have an established friendship and then are faced with the “Wait, if they want it, do I want it?” moment then you really have to put your cards on the table before you make an irrational move.

I have had a few friendships where I thought that I was unrequited with my feeling shift for years, too scared of losing the friendship over one awkward confession. It would have been awesome to read their mind, and know that even for the moment of the swipe I was an option.

The moral is don’t be scared to tell someone you love them. Life is too short.

If you rely solely on a silly dating app for your happiness you will not be a very happy person. True love, passion, and continuous joy are sparked by real life moments: catching eyes, brushing knees, petting the same cat, volunteering at the same shelter, reading books at the same coffee shop, or just a chance encounter on the street can bring you to your soulmate of the moment.

Keep your eyes open. You never know when they might come up!

* Featured image by Denis Bocquet via Flickr via Creative Commons

Its so easy to get stressed out when fighting with and/or god forbid in the process breaking up with your partner. You both think you are right. They said things they will probably regret later, calling you all the names in the book, and now accept no fucking blame for this whole thing. You look them in their stupid dumb ridiculous goofy beautiful fucking face and just want to smash it into oblivion.

In that moment it is hard to imagine how much you actually still love them because you are blinded by the rage of right now. It burns bright.

Please take a moment to ponder not killing them, step back. Be the stronger person and hold back your fierce rage fueled fury.

Although it seems like a not so gentle punch to the gut, a stinging slap in the face, or swift kick in the nuts would cause you instant satisfaction, you probably should take a step back and remember that you are both adults here. It is so healthy to express your emotions, even if it is uncomfortable, but do it with words and not fists. Violence is not the answer!

1. Breathe

Its always best to step back and breathe. Oxygen makes our brains work. Even chug a glass of water.

Make sure all of your things are lubed and ready to be wise. Get your body calm and relaxed.

Tension isn’t healthily for anyone. Stepping back and focusing on the in and out of your lungs will make you feel so much better.

2. Smoke a joint

After you take some deep breaths, breathe something else in. The best thing I can do to chill the fuck out is to smoke a little bit of sweet maryjane.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, well then have a cup of tea? I don’t know what to tell you, but weed is the number one killer of shitty feelings and bad arguments.

I feel 100% better about every situation when I light up. It’s like all my troubles melt away for that short second.

Offer the person you are fighting with a puff. Perhaps you will reach a resolution over this thoughtful peace pipe offering. You will both be more calm and collected.

3. Scream as loud as you can into the abyss

I once had a co-worker who would go into the back room and yell at the top of her lungs like she was on a roller coaster when a customer pissed her off. It is the best way to blow off steam.

Scream into the cave of infinity. It will feel like a thousand orgasms, releasing all the negativity into the world instead of yelling at a person. Primal scream therapy is real.

4. Eat dark chocolate

It is proven that chocolate triggers the same things in your brain as sex. Dark chocolate is really good for you, especially if it’s the vegan kind.

It is antioxidant rich and actually lowers your blood pressure. Also I read that you get higher if you eat it 40 minutes before you smoke weed, so maybe try this step before step #2.

5. Masturbate

Hate sex is one thing, but hate jerking off is a horse of a different color! Nothing is more stress releasing than diddling your own skittle.

Nobody knows what you want or need more than you baby! Everyone needs the good touch, especially when angry or emotional. Get that vibrator out and tell the world you are your own lover.

Masturbating is healthy and helps you with sexual discovery. Think about the random person in your sexy dream or that Greek god that you saw at the grocery store. Your hand or dildo is all you need to be happy. Independent bliss.

Other things I can think of are going to the beach or wherever your happy place is. Being in nature is so calming and grounding. It makes us remember how small we are.

Listen to music, the louder the better, and dance your ass off. Exercise, yoga, and cleaning are also positive ways to blow off negative energy.

Use the energy for good instead of evil. If distraction is your game then look at boobs on the internet, there are an endless supply.

I also like to write. Writing angry poetry is a great way to get over someone. Look up new adjectives to dislike them with.

Fuck that asshole and focus on the positive! Self love and care is what you need. Take time to think about how good the sun feels beating on your skin or how good it tastes to bite into a juicy tangerine.

Take a bath or get a massage. Think about the feeling you get right after a new hair cut or when you get a really good hug from someone.

Hold your head high and let your mind be free. Now that you are cool and collected you can turn the argument into a conversation, and if you get mad again, go back to #1 and start over.

* Featured Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis via Flickr Creative Commons

Now that society is acknowledging the widespread problem of sexual harassment, assault, and abuse thanks to the #MeToo movement, it is more important than ever to discuss what healthy expressions of sexuality are. They are not the expressions of willful ignorance and internalized misogyny of morons like actress Catharine Deneuve, who cannot tell the difference between consensual and non-consensual sexual conduct. They ARE what you will see, explore, and learn about at Montreal’s annual Salon de l’Amour et de la Séduction.

Held every year at Place Bonaventure, the event hosts vendors of sex toys and lingerie while a stage at the back shows you the world’s best in erotic performance art and burlesque. A Fetish corner has members of Montreal’s alternative sexual community who will talk about BDSM and why it’s a far cry from the abusive behavior you see in Fifty Shades of Grey.

A lecture section hosts renowned experts like Dr. Laurie Betito and Dr. Jess who discuss everything from sex after 50 to the anatomy of the G spot and clitoris. Non-profit groups like the Sexual Health Network of Quebec will answer questions, hand out condoms, and tell you why teaching kids about consent and STI prevention and contraception is so important.

Porn stars and cosplayers are there for meets and greets and the floor is peppered with the occasional vendor of non-sexual wares. Innovators in sexual technology are there to sell and tell you why their products are different from what’s already on the market.

One such vendor is Chip, representing Boy Butter, an innovation in lubrication technology. His product is one of the few lubricants originally designed for men, though he told me many women enjoy it as well.

He explained that most sexual lubricants take for granted that women produce their own naturally – though anyone truly familiar with female anatomy knows that this is not always the case. As Chip demonstrated, his product is designed to stay slick without getting sticky and while the original Boy Butter isn’t condom safe, his other product, You’ll Never Believe It’s Not Boy Butter, is.

Dr. Laurie Betito is an author and the host of a radio show on CJAD 800. In addition to giving a lecture on sex after 50, she was there to answer questions about sex and sexuality. She provided this reporter with valuable insight on sex with disabilities and explained that after the age of 50, sexual problems are largely emotional in women, and primarily physical in men.

Dr. Laurie is also a member of the Sexual Health Network of Quebec, an organization devoted to teaching sex ed in public schools throughout Quebec. The Network had their own booth at the Salon, represented by volunteers led by Stephanie Mitelman, a certified sexuality educator.

Their work focuses primarily on the prevention of unwanted pregnancies and STIs, though they also cover consent and what constitutes healthy relationships. They are ready and willing to provide lessons even in schools with existing sex-ed curricula and whether or not schools welcome their help depends on how important said schools consider sex ed. They are currently in the midst of a huge fundraising drive so if you believe in the importance of teaching kids about healthy sexual behavior, the Sexual Health Network of Quebec is a group worth supporting.

If you go to the Salon to shop, do so carefully. Though most sex toys are on sale, the larger booths tend to overcharge for even basic model vibrators and dildos. A clever shopper can however find a deal at smaller booths that will sell you vibrating bullets and massage candle for as little as ten dollars. One vendor on the outskirts of the salon sells beautiful quality corsets in a variety of sizes for thirty-five dollars each.

If you want to see a show, you are definitely in the right place. Performances from burlesque artists Scarlett James and instructors from Montreal’s Arabesque Burlesque Academy are a dazzling display proving that you don’t need to be anorexically thin with balloon boobs to be sexy. It was however, one male performer at the Salon who for me stole the show.

Brent Ray Fraser is an erotic performance artist like no other. Classically trained in fine art, he got into stripping as a way to overcome his shyness and boy did he ever succeed.

Though he is a stunning specimen of man and a very talented painter, it is the way he paints that is particularly fascinating. An artist myself I am always interested in learning about new styles and mediums, but Fraser takes this to a whole new level by painting with his penis.

He is the only painter I’ve ever seen to seamlessly combine painting with stripping. Not only does he move effortlessly but the finished painting at the end of his performance is just as beautiful and expressive, though part of me wonders how he successfully washes the acrylic paint off his member without hurting himself scrubbing. If you get a chance to see his act, DO, you’ll be dazzled for days to come.

For those of you interested in exploring an alternative sexual lifestyle, the Salon de l’Amour is best place to do it. The fetish corner has dominants and submissives from Montreal’s fetish scene who will happily teach you about healthy BDSM and even demonstrate some tools used in play.

One representative of the community explained that the Fifty Shades of Grey books brought people to them, some of whom stayed, while others found that it wasn’t for them. The clubs welcome almost every fetish except scat and blood play which can pose hygiene risks.

If you’re interested in becoming a swinger, you can explore that too, but be wary of some of these groups. One organization I would not recommend is SDC.com, a dating site for swinger couples that is attempting to break into the Canadian market. Unfortunately, their attitude is not very Canadian and against the spirit of the Salon itself.

Though the Salon is wheelchair accessible and has a designated rest area for disabled attendees, the representative of SDC I spoke to was rude and elitist. The regional director I met said they refuse the disabled and insisted they have strict (aka snooty) criteria.

Whether this is his own prejudice or indicative of his company’s broader culture of bigotry is unclear. If it is the latter, it has no place at the Salon, which clearly prides itself on inclusion. I recommend that those interested in swinging look elsewhere.

If you’re a prude, a body shamer, or an LGBTQIphobe, stay away from the Salon. You are not welcome. If you’re over 18 and respectful, then check it out. You’re guaranteed great bargains and breathtaking performances.

* Photos by Kerry Ann Cannon

We all know of the dirty 30 expression, what about clean 31? This show marks a full decade of burlesque.

I have been a Stripteaser since my idea was to strip down to a bald cap and all white and be the sexiest Mr Clean the world has ever seen. My outfit was complete with the only pristine white panties I have that say “fuck it” on the ass and a pair of pink fishnets from the floor.

Since it was my birthday I decided to hit a bowl before the show. Of course I coughed, and of course I peed a little. The show must go on.

Depeche Mode “Clean” came on in the red lit bar. I lost my virginity to a different Depeche Mode song, kind of silly. I love this bar. Nietzsches is as filthy as me, the cobwebs and memories.

It was really crowded for such a cold December night. I came out as a goofy housewife and vacuumed the bar. Then the reveal, wig off, crowd roars, and Mr Clean took the stage with a dirty rubber fist (which I licked). Killed it.

Afterwards upstairs we were chilling and changing. I looked down and to my whorer and dismay my formerly pristine white panties were now blood stained! What? I couldn’t have gotten my period! I just had it last week!

Wait. Last week I wore these pink fishnets, last week when I realized after the show that my lady in red was raging. I threw the tights to the floor where I found them a week later, in my haste I did not notice the stain.

When I coughed my pee reactivated the shark week and I definitely earned my filthiest person at camp title. Mr Clean dancing around with last week’s period stained underwear is pretty much my life in a nutshell.

I really am gross and don’t know how I spend all of these decades existing in my own filth and bad taste. It’s the best. New year new me, another revolution around the sun, thirty fucking one.

The party is for me and everyone can see my stains. I wear them with pride. I always say I am going to get my shit together, clean my room and purge the clutter from my disorganized soul. Stop wearing ditty clothes off the floor, or at least checking the crotch.

Top notch filth queen. Red crusty funk goddess. Crotch like pennies. I am the hottest mess and my own biggest distraction. Beauty in the rubble of former brilliance. A smile with cracks always lacks. Dry lips and elbows, some dreams forgotten, some achieved, and a whole lot more experience needed. Living life one day at a time, just trying to get high and feel good vibes.

My new years resolution? My birthday wish? I don’t know. Revolution. Be a better person, give even less fucks about what others think. Shock more with my art, really say something meaningful and be smart.

Be brilliant. Ge naked. Eat Shit. Inspire others to break out of the box and onto the streets. Realize you can accomplish everything. Food not bombs, homes not jails, trapped in the middle of an apocalypse, the rise of assholism and the fall of being quiet.

This year I will raise my fist higher and I will make more soup for my friends when they are sick. I want to be the most vitamin enriched veggies bubbling in a pot of hot broth and spices. Reborn.

My neighborhood is changing just like my aging body. It is creaky and sagging. Nobodys/Filigrees is gone. It was just the shell of a former artspace but I cried a little when it was just a pile of rubble. Colorful spaces and history smashed into a pile.

I became ME in that building, it was the safest place to be a majestic fuck up, a misfit that can only fit in at a place where nobody is president. Just like Dreamland, it has got to be an idea.

No. I can’t let gentrification bring me down on my birthday. The future terrifies me.

This is my actual birthday, the day I was cut out of my mothers womb, the celebration of my first breath and a butt slap heard round the world. Am I what I wanted to be when I was five? Do I have all the things I wanted? I never got a Barbie car, but I have happiness.

My bliss is the safety of warmth on a cold winter night. I am blessed in gifts beyond presents. The presence of real compassion and passion.

I got a weed cake, a glorious hot pink sparkle unicorn, handmade rainbow earrings, a giant rainbow dildo, and some eco friendly glitter!  My loves really know me. They are so kind, I feel selfish in comparison. I am a Capricorn, I work hard and care with all of me.

Sure I am a mess, but who isn’t? Humans are as gross as they are beautiful. Embrace the yuck in your own life, fight hate with supreme love, celebrate your imperfections and create a world where we all laugh at the face of insecurity.

2018 is our year! Make a wish when you blow out the candles and kiss that pretty girl at the stroke of midnight.

The rocks are being turned over and the scum doesn’t know where to scatter. Its beautiful to see these predators exposed. The problem is that there are so many. It feels like a constant struggle to unearth them all.

Original Post that Sparked the Flame

Yesterday I was scanning the book of face and came across a post from my beautiful bestie that put a dude on blast for blatantly saying that women DESERVE to be disrespected! What the actual fuck?

She did a screenshot of his comments on a post saying that a woman needs to be loved and respected and then shared them with her friends and tagged the guy. There are over 300 comments and counting.

We went at him in real time for almost an hour, his feeble attempts to justify his actions were shut down with wisdom and swift justice. So many men were calling him an asshole and women tore him a new one.

He said that it was a joke but then continued on trolling all women and talking down to us. He dug his grave by enacting a fury of feminist rage. Good luck with that hell mouth buckoo! One of my woke male friends said that he is scared to talk to most women because he knows that men suck and its hard to prove you aren’t like them.

This scumfuck said that a “real” lady likes being disrespected from time to time, my bestie responded simply with “EW!” and he escalated it quickly.

Scumfuck: “I mean shit, now a days you show a woman some gentlemanlike class and respect they think you want their pussy. Only way to assure them that you don’t is to show a little disrespect. Like listen bitch, not every dude wants your stank ass pussy. Lol. Sometimes disrespect is needed to put bitches in their place. And thats not me being any kinda way other than real.”

Bestie: “And what place exactly of you think bitches need to be put in? Please tell me oh wise man.”

Scumfuck: “When y’all act up because you don’t get your way, you need to be talked to in a certain way that makes you lose that dumb attitude. Like the one you have now”

Bestie: “OHHHHH! right cause its 2017 and women are supposed to be subservient and inferior to men. Me and my dumb little lady brain are so forgetful sometimes.” *twists hair around middle finger*

Scumfuck: “You don’t think that sometimes there are shitty women? Women try to belittle and control men with psychology and this whole post is the perfect example. So its okay for women to treat men like shit and talk shit but when a guy does it, its wrong. Double standards are great and all but grow up. I’d also like to add, ladies, the women who go on power trips and think they’re better than men because they think men are stupid and only think with their cocks, are the women I despise and have strong a dislike for. And sadly this seem to be a large portion of women. Not all men think with their cocks and alot of us have have hearts that are reserved only for the right people.You girls obviously didn’t have a good father figure in your life and feel the need to take your anger out on men you don’t know. Im sorry you went through whatever you went through, but take a chill pill. Not every guy is bad. And my opinions of putting people in place with words when they step put of line is more than okay in america.”

Bestie: “Bigots are the ones who need to be put in their place. Maybe seeing what everyone else thinks of your sexist rhetoric would help you rethink how much of a garbage human you are? And haaaaaaaaa bring my dad into this. He’s a mother fucking hero. I don’t hate men. I just want to see them do better. And you could do MUCH better.”

(Ed’s Note: While we strive for correct grammar on this site, we have decided not to copy-edit Scumfuck’s comments in order to preserve authenticity)

Meme ℅ Grovey Cleves

Daddy issues? Really bro? He just freaked out when called out. He has a girlfriend. I wish I could send her this convo, I’m sure he untagged himself to hide. He also said that we both probably steal and also place false accusations on men.

And why we so upset? WE ARE ALL UPSET WITH YOU and that smug little attitude, and yeah she is right to put your ass on blast!

We live in a world where we have to look out for each other because so much bullshit – like the comments you made- is out there. So many men think its ok to just “DISRESPECT” women by raping, murdering, mutilating, and ya know just normal stuff like that.

Try living life in fear. Try being a woman. You don’t have what it takes dude. He also said “Womens rights? Why is that even a thing? You have the same rights as a man in america. Lol.”

Mistreatment of women (or any human) and sexual assault is nothing to laugh at. This is not a joke! See how well its going for Louis CK, Kevin Spacey, Bill Cosby, and all the others. Real funny.

Guys like this are the festering puss in the pimple that is the Donald Trump era, and ladies/ woke gentleman/ humans we need to POP THIS BITCH! Let the white nasty goo ooze out so we can put some antibiotic ointment on it and start the healing process. Toxic masculinity is a rampant disease

Gender is just a social construct, sex is a sliding spectrum, and forget about all of the archaic archetypal attitudes that have been destroying people since people existed. Asshole is not a gender identity.

Not every person who identifies as a man is an asshole, just the evil ones. I never ever claimed to “HATE ALL MEN” this is not the S.C.U.M. Manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men by Valerie Solanas). Believe me, I love all humans, I am pansexual and yes, I love men.

My dad is a prime example of how a man should be. He treats my mother with love and respect and takes care of his family. I do NOT have “daddy issues”. My only issue is that I have not met any men who are as awesome as my dad.

It’s like saying every asshole dude who thinks with his cock has mommy issues. His mom probably dislikes him as much as we do. Perhaps she has no idea and her pedestal really is encouraging him, but he made his choices.

I am definitely not saying that all “women”or female identifying humans are perfect either. My friend who is a stripper said that the people who often disrespect her the most are women. They think that they can get away with doing things that men are not allowed to do.

Sex workers get all of my respect. As women we need to be supporting each other and lifting each other up, not tearing down our sisters and degrading them in order to impress the guys or fulfill your own twisted ego.

I have several people in my life who have survived abuse and now want to call out their abusers. I want to create a dating profile that is completely honest. It will not be slander because the jerk will know it’s all true. It will be anonymous, the EX or person who was abused by them can submit the photos and answer all of the questions truthfully. We can call it OkStupid.

Hobbies: Punching women and destroying their self esteem and sense of worth, video games, , and watching anal gang bang porn.

What do you do on a Fri night?: Emotional abuse and torture with a side of forced sex on the rocks. Netflix and chilling with sexist comedians and my dog Bruiser, drinking brews.

Ideal date?: 100% American woman, big tits, big ass, no brains, no voice, subservient, great at blow jobs, no self worth, great cook, into being a side piece, jail bait preferred.

Career: Well since I got fired from 711 for doing whip its and expelled from community college I guess it’s sleeping in my mom’s basement and eating meatloaf while jerking my lil ween off obsessively until it blisters.

Favorite Song: Smack My Bitch Up

What do you do when knowing that someone raped your friend but she doesn’t want to come forward, she is too scared, blames herself, it’s her fault that she was drunk… well she didn’t take her own pants off and stick his cock inside her unwilling vagina. She didn’t put those bruises all over her body. She didn’t say YES! But she wanted it? She was too drunk/drugged to function and she WANTED IT?

The most important thing is to report rape right away, get the rape kit before you take a shower, physical evidence is important. Plan B can be administered as well as emotional support from a professional counselor. I would be scared too, embarrassed that I was the girl who was drugged and gang raped behind a dumpster.

Rapists hurt more than just the physical body. Survivors are violated, that scene in a movie where a woman is rocking back and forth in the shower is not shocking. Rape culture is normalized. Abusers are heroes and presidents!

Glorifying abuse on women, trans, and non-bianry humans is a terrifying truth. It is out in the open. Women get stoned to death for being promiscuous and men can just do what they please.

Attackers get violent when confronted with what they have done. Pity nobody has their backs, not even other men. Survivors are gaining power and rising up.

The #MeToo campaign is an incredible shift of power. Use your voice! Rose McGowan and Ellen Page are two of my role models for tearing up the patriarchy they have survived in for so long. They used their fame and following to rip the head off the beast.

Hollywood needed to be exposed and torn to shreds, young actresses (and actors) have always been victimized. Give some head to get ahead, right?

I want to set fire to all the rape vans and free all the people from the cages of oppression that bind them. All us stinky pussy hoes have a problem with you existing in your current state, fragile man children. There is nothing sexy about disrespect. Mothers, sisters, brothers, fathers, lovers, and friends all need to be aware if someone in their life is an abuser.

Together we are the voice for the voiceless. The silenced millions who thought they were in it alone need to know that there is a network of strength behind them, a net of loving arms. Others will have your back. We are a tight knit web of female rage. War paint on. This will not be pretty…

How did I get here? This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife.

On getting so wasted that you have to ask a friend to re-cap your night:

Starting the night looking like a well polished scary neon clown and ending it looking like a juggalette that gave too many blow jobs and has a five o clock shadow. She sat on the porch grinning in the darkness on Halloween night.

“It was a night. Stuff happened. Let’s sleep on the couch and watch scary movies.” Two minutes later she is ass up on her bed with her adorable lace panties (on top of her leggings) exposed. Bloody hands and an unlocked bike.

Goodnight sweet clown, we will talk in the morning. I love that human more than words can explain, as I say in shows, I masturbate over her while she sleeps. Jk.

So, um. What is up with running in your ex on Halloween at basement punk shows?

This holiday seems to bring out everyone you have ever fucked or wanted to fuck and place them in the same crusty basement as you. My bestie once threw a punch at her ex in a mosh pit, “You better be drunk.” She did it because he was an asshole and she was drunk. Runs into the same ex wearing his “appropriate” undersized Misfits tee and acid wash mom jeans.

I remember one Halloween running into someone I excommunicated from my life, he immediately put his arm around me (and wasn’t wearing a costume mind you, fucking pathetic). I quickly lifted it off. I was very proud of myself in that moment. I came a long way to physically lift him off me.

My friend saw it go down and was going to come save me, but I did it myself before she had the chance. It is important to stay true to your convictions.

I am trying to write this while listening to my roomie watch a horror movie, she figured she would get it in the day after. I have such a visual mind that what I am imagining is probably worse than what is actually on the screen. Or not, shit is brutal these days. Horror flicks are all about that gore. I have a hard time with anything past Evil Dead, the first 15 Scream movies, Chucky, Freddie, Jason, and all the classics. Modern horror just grosses me out.

It’s either raining or the Babadook is outside. I was stoned watching scary movies all night and my other rookie’s boyfriend came over, I heard him on the porch and around back, but he didn’t knock, he was texting her and she was asleep.

I picked up a giant stick and was going to beat his ass with it until he said who he was. Real gore on beggars night. Glad that didn’t happen. Don’t scare couch stoners. We are delicate creatures.

I will always be a fan of Tim Curry as It. I based my routine on It for the She Lives Whorer 2 Show. The next day I was Trump and sat on a toilet I had to carry down three flights of stairs with my lady. We were covered in poo water for art.

Trump is more frightening than Pennywise the dancing clown because THAT SHIT IS REAL. News is the scariest fucking truth!

You know what else is real? The Midnight Meat Train, Bradley Cooper’s first starring role and he is a vegan climbing on carcasses running from an evil butcher. I couldn’t stomach it and had to write this blog.

I will watch some stand up or a lighthearted rom com with her after as a reward. Not knowing anything about the movie I decided that the meat train was a drunk forgotten night gone wrong, or maybe a gay gang bang porno, possibly a special steak hoagie, or a GO VEGAN PSA! Yeah thats it.

Spoiler alert…

Weird, it was about lizard people the whole time.

People tell me things they would not tell anyone else, not their mom, not even their therapist or childhood best friend. I get bro status instantly when most girls would not. Guys hear that I like girls too (I like all humans) and assume that I want to hear about all the dirties of their sex life instantly. I’m not mad, always looking for artistic inspiration.

This is what brings us to the topic of erotic asphyxiation. A guy was telling me how he was fucking a girl half his age and she liked to be choked.

Another guy told me about the first girl that ever asked him to choke her and how it felt powerful. One time they were in the act and he was choking her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body went limp. He then slapped her awake. She said “Thank you for bringing me back,” then he continued fucking her.

What the fuck? This disturbed me. Who would want that? Choke out a young girl, thats not making love, thats some carnal strange right there. She asked for it, he said. She wanted it. She was looking for a little pain, a little pause in time and oxygen deprivation.

I bruise easily so I never really wanted to try it. But one time I was hooking up with someone and they were definitely dominant, and knew what they were doing. Their expert hands knew the exact pressure point to hit to cut off oxygen without hurting me. It felt like a whip. I needed to tap out, it was too intense, and not in a sexual way.

Erotic asphyxiation or breath play is when you intentionally restrict the flow of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal. The term autoerotic asphyxiation is used when the act is done by a person to themselves.

Gasper is used to describe a person participating in this fetish. Author George Shuman describes the effect as such, “When the brain is deprived of oxygen, it induces a lucid, semi-hallucinogenic state called hypoxia. Combined with orgasm, the rush is said to be no less powerful than cocaine, and highly addictive.”

When death occurs during auto-erotic asphyxiation often the families will “clean up” the scene and make it not seem sexual, but like suicide. If a partner is involved it can be classified as murder even if there was consent. Thats crazy!

Back to my conversation with the dirt ball. He also added “of course the girls are always younger” as if it would be gross to sleep with a woman his age or older. The other guy stated that he liked older women. I wonder if it was because he wanted to sleep with me.

Daddy complex- so many older men fetishize young girls, like the only creatures capable of sex are young fertile girls. It is absolutely disgusting how children are sexualized by the media for consumption by the scummy old men who rule the world. Goes the other way too when younger people are looking for sexual “guidance” perhaps to make up for a lack of actual parents in their life. A whole generation is being raised by the internet and are incapable of healthy relationships because of this.

Mommy complex- while most men seek out younger women they also take advantage of older women to do things like their cooking and laundry. For the most part they want to be treated like babies and also fuck babies.

Some people also put themselves into the mom role. I definitely do this. This is still problem, but a little less creepy. I will never have children pop out of my body but I will have an influence on younger people. I will help others grow with my wisdom and resources.

I love to feed people, I love having people in my home and cooking them a vegan feast. I will go without to fill someone else’s belly. I care about others in that ever loving maternal way.

For me, I feel funny if someone is much younger than me. When on dating sites/apps I usually swipe away from even 21-22 year olds because I know they are in a much different place than my 30 year old ass.

Do I fuck them to feel young? Is it like Elizabeth Báthory bathing in their blood? Ageism is rampant in porn and the sex industry. Age is a fetish too: nubile lolita vs dried up spinster, youth vs experience, it’s all what you are looking for.

Burlesque is so appealing because there no age restrictions. All bodies are beautiful and inspiring vessels. Everyone is fucking sexy! Old and fuckable are not oxymorons!

I love that people like to tell me the gory details, knowing that not many other people would be as impressed by their filth. I love being the one who knows the thing you can’t tell anyone else. I don’t get grossed out. I do disgusting shit everyday. We all do.

How do you react when you know dirt about someone your friend is thinking of dating though… like they start describing a random tinder hookup that they are falling in love with… same physical description, kinda average, kinda whatever… same job… wait he started what?… awww fuck that’s the guy that ____ to my friend when she was _____ and you think that maybe he _____ to you but you want to justify what happened.

Like staying with a phone company that sucks just to get an angry but loyal customer discount. You asked me if I ever stole anything from anyone.

We ate brunch, vegan tofu hash with a pita, strong coffee with almond milk, you had a bloody mary, we both hate olives. You very loudly told me about all of your sexplotations and adventures spanning the course of continents.

A man sat in earshot pretending to read. I forgot his name but we definitely knew each other. I did not make eye contact.

Hopefully our explicit conversation inspires him to make art. Us talking dirty on the patio of a cafe on a fall morning makes Buffalo that much more sexy. That kind of girl lives there, artists having conversations about art, sex, traveling, ridding ourselves of negative energy, and bonding over coffee and early morning alcohol that’s ok because it’s in tomato juice like a meal.

Talking about choking, fucking outside, and so much more. Things were said that would make anyone gasp. I know he had to read those pages over. We acknowledged each other as he left, he said he didn’t want to interrupt our conversation. You are welcome sir.

It was like being at a playground with no bullies, an island where the mean kids were eaten by the piranhas in the mote. Human centipedes and oversized drag queens ran wild, smiling half naked fat people covered in glitter howling at the moon, everyone was queer, penises had goggly eyes, dildos were flying free, dog shit was on the menu, size 13 heels digging into the dirt as we followed a trail of Tiki torches, whip it remains, discarded wigs, and plastic pink flamingos towards true freedom, the safest safe space, a revolution, true freaks united to exist in a place of pure bliss. Welcome to Camp John Waters.

I drove to Kent, Connecticut from Buffalo NY, stopping to steal a kiss at 4:20 and send my roomie/bestie/ride or die/ down AF off to the NY Burlesque Festival for the weekend (because YES, Camp JW is even more important than THAT).

I remember months ago a few of my friends shared a link about the camp and I knew right away that I needed to be here. Born to wander solitary, I love going places alone, you never know what you will get into or who you will connect with.

I had my costumes ready months ago, we did a show at The Buffalo Infringement Festival called Don’t Go Chasing John Waterfalls. It was a tribute to John Waters.

All of my costumes were shoved into black trash bags and thrown into my HHR. This weekend was going to be the biggest audition of my life! When I read the description I imagined Divine on a zipline, Edith Massey on water-skis, or Mink stole with a flaming bow and arrow. I couldn’t wait to do boondoggle with weirdos and tell sexual horror stories around the campfire.

My first look was strong. I considered breaking it out for the costume contest but am glad I chose how I did. I wore the perfect Aunt Ida black jumpsuit. A thriftstore find, I remember putting it on excitedly after finding it on the pajama rack without panties on.

Labia to the crotch of the most perfect vinyl 90’s fetish wear, that was DEFINITELY worn. I inadvertently had sex with that person’s old crusty juices. The dust of ancient crabs couldn’t keep this perfect item of clothing off of me.

That is the kind of commitment I have to a life of true filth. Filth is my life, filth is my politics, filth is freedom and revolution.

I strutted toward dinner, this was a party that everyone arrived late to. The tent felt like a wedding, I sat alone, and then was joined by beautiful people, who would quickly all become my trashmates.

I watched John Waters eat. That felt strangely stalkery, so I then just shoved bread dipped in red lipstick and glitter in my mouth and looked everywhere else. People lined up to talk to him while he was eating. AMATEURS, I thought.

He told us some camp stories, motivated us all to be a little more political, inspired some circle jerks, and made me happy that I came. Where will I be at 71? John Waters has done it, and still fucking does it!

Bad taste is my fetish. That dream lit tent was overflowing with creative juices (and other juices too I am sure). Everyone was sensational, it was a totally empowering celebration.

The meet and greet was incredible, but strangely anti-climatic since I knew my real chance to shine was the costume contest. John asked me if my name was spelled with a C or a K, I told him C but that I would literally change my name if he spelled it the other way. Then he asked me if my mom was a stripper or a hippy. I said both, naturally. My polyester floral dress looked perfect next to his blue toned blazer.

Quickly drunk off of my new friends’ wristbands and whatever the drug fairy was handing out. The music was awkward at times, but the Camp Getaway staff made up for it!

Bluto was our jolly host, he partied harder than all of us. His wonky Edna Turnblad tits were on point. Color wars involved team building exercised like bouncing on a horse, tossing water balloons, and breaking balloons with a pelvic thrust. Team red baby, I bounced us to victory that round. Lunch with Pissy was brilliant, I fucking loved her blue sequins, crowd humping, and flawless mashups.

Except for this DJ. He didn’t get it. This was his reaction while I ate shit on stage. His fucking face is all the justification I need. Shocking, disturbing, out of control, yet still artful and smart.

Beautiful women with boners, vagina dentata, ALL OF THE LEOPARD, sky high drag queens with rubber tits and wigs that touch the ceiling, dykes with frizzed mullets, hand painted shirts, pencil thin mustaches, and pubic hair galore! I even saw a real live tea bagging!

I hear there was a blow job contest too! Does anyone know who won it? Was it in our dreams? Can we also talk about how spot on The Corny Collins Show in the boathouse was? It was perfectly decorated. The staff looked straight out of the 60’s. Integration for all!

They told us to just say our name and who our character was. I could not do that. This is my stage and I have layers on. I was right after the trash can. I ferociously grabbed the mic, put my gun in the air, and screamed KILL EVERYONE EAT SHIT I AM DIVINE!

Then I ripped off my perfect red sequin fishtail dress to reveal white fringe, and lifted the stuffed dog I was carrying, squeezed it, and as the “shit” plopped onto my face I knew that I had achieved my goal. As I bent over to reveal my giant skid mark I could hear him laugh and the crowd roared. I stormed off stage. History was made.

When he announced the winners I was ready. Third place was the best Hatchet Face, he was so good! The makeup, the movements, orgasmic! Then Number 2… THE STRIPPER THAT ATE SHIT! He commended me on giving a whole act.

The 1st place winner was the most spot on Aunt Ida in white, with the bloody hook hand and perfect hair. She looked like Edie back from beyond the grave. He ended with FUCK YOU MISS AMERICA!

Fuck yes! It was such an incredible moment a lifetime in the making. However, it had to end quicker than I wanted. I had to take a horrible shit the entire time I was on stage.

My biggest fear is that my chocolate stain would be an actual dihaerra stain dripping out of my tighty whities. I pooped myself in a Dollar General once while wearing a dress. Luckily it was a long dress and I got out of there before anyone saw.

This was not going to be one of those days. I rushed by my idol to go explode in the shitter. It could not have been more appropriate. In the end, it was all for a lousy t-shirt. That was what I officially won.

I want to call out all of the incredible people I met and experienced, but the list is too long.  A man painted a landscape with his cock and also fucked a stuffed chicken during the costume contest! Thank you, sir.

There were so many wonderful costumes, everyone was truly a star! So many quick changes, every meal was a new look. I was honored to be there.

I also won an audience with the Pope of Trash himself. I am a memory in his mind, hopefully a highlight from his inaugural camp. I knew very well that I really didn’t look like Divine, but I am a method actor like he was. I am an only child weirdo turned glamour queen.

My life changed when I first saw Hairspray and Pink Flamingos. I finally knew what I wanted to be when I “grew up” or whatever you want to call it . My color scheme was set.

I was obsessed with drag queens and all things subversive as a child. It was a definite sign of things to come. I was never afraid to be myself. Just like this night, I had only just begun.

We lingered outside for a long time after the party ended. My new friends sang and I did an impromptu burlesque number down to bare nips. The lights went out, then the real party began deep in the woods (just kidding it was like the first cabin)… it was MORTVILLE!

Our Queen made us all put our clothes on backwards and drink illegal liquor. There soon was a giant Plush Papa Smurf and Moose, that really spiced things up. The goggly eyes from my nipples ended up on the tip of a cigarette smoking dick. At one point there was a sphincter twirling the hypnotist wheel.

Debachery levels were high and so were we. There was so much sequins and lack of fucks. I could live in that time and place.

The Glam Gam gang from Montreal gets my vote for the Filthiest Campers! Especially my bizarro sibling, Michael J. McCarthy. Until this weekend, these wonderful creatures were just something I had seen on the internet.

I wrote a piece about their Odorama show at Cafe Cleo last year and fate brought us together. I can’t wait to perform with them in the future, look out for my triumphant return to Montreal!

I hated to go to sleep, but I had a burlesque class to teach in the morning. Wait, WHAT? How did that happen? I was in the right place at the right time. They had advertised burlesque and the instructor bailed. I jumped at the chance to teach TRASHLESQE right after a late breakfast to a bunch of hungover John Waters fans, my people.

I started off with some Divine into Iggy Pop I Wanna Be Your Dog. During the number I took a jar of chunky peanut butter out of my underoos. That was obviously homage to when Iggy Pop smeared peanut butter all over himself and his fans at a live concert. I saw Iggy for the first time this summer at Burger Boogaloo.

When I was done with my performance I asked if anyone wanted to clean off my cock. Nobody jumped at the chance. I was disappointed to say the least. Nobody lived up to my standard of filth that morning. I then proceeded to take two pieces of bread, wipe of the dick, and made me a sammich.

I then told the class to all remove their shirts and gave them a golden shower (glitter of course). LOVE YOUR BODY… touch yourself like you want to fuck yourself, own your sexuality, flaunt your flaws because they are perfection.

I asked people what they wanted their burlesque name to be, danced with them, and taught a few peeps how to spin tassels (it’s all in the knees). Burlesque is for everyone, just like the whole weekend in general. It doesn’t matter if you are big or small, young or old, male/female/trans/non binary, you have the freedom to express yourself and people will feed off of your positive energy.

Treating life as a stage will transform you to new states of being! You are powerful. Confidence kills all fear. THERE ARE NO BULLIES HERE!

Oh, Camp John Waters, how I loved you so. I was a lifeguard for awhile, floating on the giant inflatable flamingo  with my mullet, magnum condoms in my sweatband, just keeping people safe.

Sadly I am still too big for the zip line (250lb weight limit). Bloody Mary Bingo and Cards Against Humanity for the win.

Next year how about Divine and wine paint party? Make merkins and pasties? Adult balloon animals? Porn collages? Drag makeup workshops?

Yoga should be called Learn how to suck your own cock, Zumba should be called MILF Bod 101, booze should be served 24 hours, the bonfire should be a giant lobster effigy, and the end, there needs to be a Dirty Dancing-style talent show so all of the spectacular weirdos can strut their stuff and show the world that we are unstoppable.

I don’t have the heart to unpack. My car is still full of costumes and there is still crusty peanut butter on my pretty pink strap-on.

It is impossible to come down from such an incredible high. I met my idol AND impressed him. What next?

All I know is that I will be there next year! I am already signed up to perform and teach another Trashlesque class. Dreams to come true!

See you next year campers, I love you all. Stay trashy.

Why do people get turned on by the chase? It is easier to feel tingles for someone who is out of reach. Why are the tingles so fucking important?

When someone is sitting there legs spread, waiting for me in worship, I always hold back. Thinking it’s too easy, it’s too good to be true, too sweet an offer to just blindly accept. Like a free cruise or money from a Nigerian Prince, there must be a catch. This incredible, smart, beautiful human can’t possibly be ga-ga over me, can they? I always feel like the big green monster clumsily making my way through life.

The greatest loves of my life thus far have been unrequited, crushing on the ones who don’t want anything to do with me. Loving those who are out of reach because I am addicted to the hurt. I don’t know my own worth.

Spending years being easy because it is easier to be easy. Love who you can get, fuck the one you are with. Maybe something will grow? I guarantee it won’t be love. Love is more often pretend than achieved, not to be taken lightly or deceived.

I want to worship the one who worships me back. I want to travel the world with someone who is proud to hold my hand. I want to be vegan together. I want to grow. Make art. Make love in beautiful places, touch me under a waterfall, hold me under the stars, kiss me in my car, let me know that I am not alone by simply being with me.

I have spoken of radical requited love before, but only now am I truly believing in it. Or am I? I don’t know what I believe. In any aspect of my life really. I spend my days in a cloud of general confusion. But I do know one thing: “My love, my love, my love she keeps me warm.” I have always loved that Mary Lambert song. I have to look in the mirror and tell me that I deserve it. The warmth of arms protecting me, holding something they cherish.

I know I am incredible. I do shit, I am someone, I fucking sparkle. I always knew that someone would come along and compliment me. Not just a color out of the tube, this person must me a mix of all the good, a new shade, completely original, wrapping their soul around mine in a sweet song, a delicate embrace, perfect understanding, and wavelength compatible.

I never want to be a wife. The fantasy still does not cross my mind. That word means property. I am a partner, in crime and happiness, bliss and misfortune.

I have been single for so long that I don’t know what it’s like to be dependent on another. I don’t need to lean on you.

I have been contemplating polyamory for years, since I picked up the book The Ethical Slut in a radical bookshop in Indiana years ago. I never thought it was viable because I couldn’t imagine finding even one person to love me, let alone many. But I see it. I see the beauty in never ending your options, never shutting yourself off forever. There is no be all end all. Love is fluid and ferocious. It is an organism, alive and pulsing, spewing.

Saying I love you is another thing altogether. I wonder if I have ever actually said it and felt it at the same time. I know that I have said it and I know that I also have felt it, but really there is a grey zone. I remember saying it in those early relationships, boys who wanted to wife me, I loved how they loved me. But I don’t think I loved them, not really, I was not capable of it at that point.

I have met someone. She is so kind, a daughter of the earth and stars, she makes my heart smile, she cares about animals, she cooks, she hikes, she is a musician. I can’t find a single flaw in her. It is a feeling like no other, to hold someone who looks at you with wonder, looks at you like the sun rises and sets in your eyes. My flaws fade away when she sweetly kisses them. My beautiful sunflower queen stands now on serene mountain path that she built.

I want something to go wrong. I make things go wrong when I feel like I am not worthy. It is strange how easy this is. Strange how simple it is to just be together. I always feel like something has to give. Instead I need to just let it be, enjoy the bliss like a woman’s hand on a canvas, spreading and pushing paint, blowing it with her sweet lips, spit.

She sent me flowers, big bright yellow sunflowers bursting out of a now forgotten moldy vase. Now dried and shriveled memories on my dashboard. I want to buy her a drum and plant a field of sunflowers for us to dance in. I want to twirl my dress for her.

Let’s eat vegan donuts and listen to Ani Difranco. Let’s dive into each other. Let’s drive across the country. Let’s paint on the same canvas, strapped between two trees in the forest, on a path that you built for me to wander down.

There is room for me to finally be happy. Room to explore. I harbor others negativity, I hold their pain in my heart until it is as unrecognizable as my own. I choose happiness. I want to spread legs and love, spread kindness and open doors of bliss and positivity, open arms to all humanity. Nobody is immune to loneliness. Everyone deserves this loveliness.

How does one exactly “do” lesbian sex? Fingering, fisting, eating out, scissoring? I was told it’s awesome to grind your clit on a girl’s tits. Dildos: double ended strap-on rabbit shake butt plug, give your clitoris a hug. Which is the top tonight? Switch bitch. I just want to touch and rub, rub, rub.

I have never fucked a woman with a strap on cock. I have always fucked women tenderly, not wanting to hurt them, but I know I like to be fucked differently. I need to fuck how I want to be fucked. Dive into masculine femininity, hot oozing butch, luscious layers of genderfuck brilliance.

Love is like an orgasm. Elusive. Freeing. Scary. Easy to fake, but not really. Not as common as you think. I still don’t think I have had one – an orgasm or true love. Or if I have it hasn’t been as earth shattering and mind blowing as the description on the back of the box indicates. Uncommon like the butterflies of blissful ignorance.

Back to the tingles, it always stems back to them. I can remember the moments that people have made me tingle. It lights up your whole body, makes you feel scared and alive. That means you are nervous, right? So the tingles aren’t good? Do I ever make tingles erupt in her body?

Pins and needles in my lady parts, butterflies engulf my insides, flutter softly, swarm sweetly though my whole entire body, out my fingertips when I touch you. Yearning, CRAVING, full desire, want, need, must be with, dreaming in waking life. You are behind my eyes and I can see the future. I will run through our field of sunflowers, stroking the petals and eating the seeds to make sure it isn’t a dream. Guess, I’m not as scared as I thought.

Sometimes things happen, life happens, a kiss on the cheek turns to lust, turns to action, then a break of trust. How can you navigate heartache and bliss within yourself and every other person that your current person has ever slept with?

I am guilty of a disregard or lack in judgement, not caring about eventual consequences while in the moment. I didn’t make anyone want me. They acted first. They wanted me and I am solely to blame? I don’t think so. It takes two to tango sister.

Sure, I could have said something and put the nail in the coffin sooner, but thats not what I wanted. I knew it was going to be the eventual outcome, so I got deeper and deeper into deceit. Keeping out the details.

I lost a friend because I slept with her ex. Plain and simple. I never planned it and certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It happened, I knew that as soon as it came to a head I would lose a friend over it. I just did my best while I was in her life and I hope everything else works out. I know she feels betrayed and thinks I’m a piece of moldy trash.

In reality I thank him for coming clean. I am glad to not be living with a secret, full disclosure is important to any relationship. Losing friends is a good time for emotional spring cleaning. I cannot and will not talk to either of them ever again. There is no coming back from this.

All of the anger and hate is focused on me because she is still in love with him. She can forgive him because she wants to claim him forever. That’s fine, he loves her too, they can be a beautiful entity forever. I never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. It was just a fleeting moment.

It is not right to put it all on my shoulders, that says that he is just an object, thoughtless, incapable of fucking up. We cannot let people off the hook for the decisions they have made. He left her before he kissed me. Of course I am not innocent, I could have said no, but I didn’t. I am not entirely to blame either.

I am a deviant slut and he is an angel. I am to blame for everything. This is everything that feminism fights against. Relationships are not property! I do not claim to manage any of my partner’s sexuality. That is rape culture. I did not force anyone to want me. I did not put a magical spell on them or throw myself at them.

Blaming “the other woman” is toxic, competitive, and oppressive. We are pitted against each other to compete for a small crew of “good men”. Women get chastised and blamed even by other women. Shame the slut and cast her away like a used condom.

How can you hold claim over someone when you had someone else? You can’t “keep” every person that you have ever been with. I know the “bro” code is a thing, but I don’t truly understand because people are not objects. You do not own the person you are dating, especially after a break up. Relationships are a daily choice, a mutual trust, not an obligation. Things change.

Every action has a reaction. I have never pursued a person who was in a relationship, but someone who is single and willing and barking up my tree doesn’t come along every day. I have been single for a very long time, never really looking, just waiting to see what comes next in the adventure.

I have come to the conclusion that this city is too small (I mean this city as any city). This world is too small and everybody is somebody’s ex. I can’t change the past. I will live in the smite zone and must deal with the fact that someone I used to love feels that I am a succubus-swine-dirty-cunt-homewrecking-whore.

I love boobs. All sizes, shapes, colors, big nipples, little dime nipples, hairy boobs, round boobs, perky or saggy, squished in a bra, on my face, or naked in the sun, I love boobs.

It is strange to me how a part of the body is so obsessed over as these bags of fun are. They are mother’s milk, sacred life giving pillows, warmth, comfort, safety, and love.

I share my boobs for a living, I promote their loveliness and love the unique breasts I am privileged enough to see on a regular basis. I touch my boobs in my shirt often. I haven’t worn a bra in over a year, and the only one who has ever called me out on my nips showing is my own mother.

Boobs are so hypersexualized and that often times a woman’s “worth” is placed on what her breasts look like. I want to compile every kind of human’s thoughts on their own boobs/chest and how society fetishizes them in general.

It is important to think about how others view their own bodies and strive for things that some of us take for granted- trans woman, women with implants, a non binary human who binds their breasts, and a transman who had top surgery. It must be an incredible feeling to have your body finally match the gender of your soul.

My grandmother had one breast, she was a cancer survivor. She told me the story of how she went in for a routine check up and then that day was under the knife, she was so confused and scared. My grandfather didn’t know how significant this was. It was in the 1980s.

No woman should ever have to feel so scared. I have seen burlesque dancers with one breast proudly swinging their tassel. It means they survived, they are proud of their body no matter what people say.

Dahlia Dubois- Stripper, Artist, Badass…

On being a stripper with natural breasts:

“I feel like it really depends on what area you’re working in and what type of club you’re at. Like if you were working at the Hustler club it would be almost expected that you would have some form of breast augmentation. But as far as my experience here, it’s really a 50-50 crapshoot. I’ve only ever had one customer tell me my breasts were too small and that was as I was giving him a lap dance so clearly I must’ve not been that bad hahahaha Although I feel like I do want to get augmentation done but not to an excessively large level. Because I do feel like that would increase my profits.”

 

 

Colleen Dunphy- Writer, Burlesque Dancer , Model…

“I had my breast reduction 11 years ago and I know without a doubt that if I hadn’t done it I’d never be doing the things I do today. I would have never become a half marathon runner, I’d never have done nude modeling and I definitely wouldn’t perform burlesque.

My breasts made me very uncomfortable with my body, and especially the attention I got. I still get some of that now because I am still a DDD, but it’s not like it was before.

Getting the reduction took a huge weight off my shoulders, literately and figuratively. I had some body dysphoria right after my surgery, because it was such a big change so quickly. I lost 4lbs from each side. But eventually I was able to become comfortable in my skin.

I have some mental sensitivity with the scarring when I am first with a new partner, because I had someone have a really negative reaction right after my surgery, but that was the only one. I am actually working on getting the worst ones tattooed over now.

I still have some nerve damage, where it doesn’t feel the same as it does in areas above or below. But I actually have more nipple sensation now than I did before surgery.

I’ve been told I won’t be able to breast feed, and that was something I willingly gave up. Even through everything I’ve never had any regrets about my decision and I know without a doubt I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

I welcome anyone that wants to talk about it, or is interested in having one. I wish I’d had more people to talk to before I had mine. But it was before the major rise of social media and I just didn’t know where to go for that.”

Janna Willoughby-Lohr – Mother, Poet, Rapper.. 

“My view of the world as a woman as it pertains to my body has changed dramatically throughout my life…from a pre-teen girl when I didn’t even have enough boobs to hold my training bra down, just begging the great beyond to gift me with some curves…to a supple 20-something with cleavage for days who could (and did) rock any low-cut top I could find and often found myself admiring my own boobs in the mirror…to a 30-something nursing mother with 34G breasts that are no longer the same as they were, trying desperately to find a bra that actually fits and longing for the days where I could get away with low cut tops.

I used to want to be wanted for my body, before I knew better. Now that I’m a mom, I see how many ways the world blames women for being too sexual…or not being sexual enough…all at the same time.

I am proud to be a woman, and I’m proud of my boobs that have been able to feed my child for almost two years and even though I sacrificed my amazing cleavage to do so, I still love my body. As Baz Luhrmann says, ‘Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it. It is the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.”

The Salon de L’Amour et de la Séduction aka The Everything to Do with Sex Show is Montreal’s annual sex show. The show is dedicated to being “the innovative force behind spreading openness and appreciation for all the different facets of romance, sexuality, and self-improvement.” The event is part trade show, is part performance show, and part lecture series.

The message is of the show is one of sex positivity. If you’re a self-professed prude and/or thinks that the free expression of consensual sexuality is evil, wrong, or shameful, stay away.

This show is not for you.

If you’re out to have some fun, get some sex toys or lingerie at discounted prices, and maybe see a show, the Salon is a must see. It features top burlesque acts and strippers and a kink corner where people are invited to explore and learn about alternate forms of sexuality.

The show is 18+, no exceptions, not even for babies, though given the loud noises and constant flurry of activity, the rule is understandable. The dress code is “Dress to Impress” and people are welcome to wear latex, leather, or lace. Though in Canada you are allowed to go topless, organizers ask that attendees keep their crotches covered.

In a curtained off corner of the space, there are seminars by sexperts such as Dr. Laurie Betito, a clinical psychologist specializing in sex therapy who has a radio show on CJAD about sex and relationships. She is also works with the Sexual Health Network of Quebec.

The Sexual Health Network of Quebec was one of the many sex positive nonprofit groups present at the show. The Network is an organization that believes that choices about sex are best made freely through education and provide free sex ed to youth in Montreal schools.

At the booth, they gave away condoms and sold T-shirts, bullet vibrators and flavored massage candles in support of their cause. When I spoke to one of their volunteers she told me that the election of Cheeto-Head in the US had not only increased donations to American nonprofits like Planned Parenthood, but also to groups like the Sexual Health Network, a public acknowledgment of their contribution to society’s sexual health.

Another non-profit at the show was the Alternate Lifestyles Community Center, an organization devoted to education, information, and support for alternative and marginalized sexual communities. As one of their volunteers put it, the organization acknowledges that we’re all fucked up and that it’s time to accept and work with it.

Photo by Chris Zacchia (Salon de l’amour 2011)

As the group was among many representing the kink community at the show, I asked the volunteer – Stephanie – what they thought of Fifty Shades of Grey. “It’s abuse,” she said.

On the one hand, she told me the books brought many people into the kink community who would not have explored that side of their sexuality. On the other hand the book gave these newbies an inaccurate notion of what kink is all about.

In the kink demonstrations held at the show, you saw the dominant constantly checking with the submissive, making sure she’s alright and is consenting to what’s being done to her. As Stephanie pointed out, in Fifty Shades of Grey the protagonist says No and uses her safe word but the dominant keeps going.

This is a violation of the rules of BDSM play which actually give the submissive control over what is happening. It is the dominant’s responsibility to take care of the sub and make sure they are ok with what is happening during a play session, also called a scene.

I asked the Stephanie whether BDSM contracts are necessary for play. The notion of having to have a contract for sex play sounds like a buzzkill and she agreed, partly due to the implications of calling it a contract. In their workshops on BDSM, the Center calls agreements about acceptable play negotiations, for calling it a contract suggests that violations would be enforceable in a court of law, which they usually aren’t.

Though many go to the Salon for information and to see a show, many go for the shopping. The Salon showcases vendors of sex toys, lingerie, and adult films, with business owners providing insights into their industries and the challenges they face.

Annick Samson and Jessica Filion are the proprietors of Vices & Caprices, a sex shop in Blainville that also sells online. Though their shop is new, they are already facing persecution from the City, which is claiming that their space in an 18+ tanning salon has not been zoned for their type of business.

There was also concern about exposing their products to children when neither their business nor the tanning salon permits underage customers. As it turns out, the complaint was not filed by parents or clergy, but by their competitor who is trying to force them out of business.

Another vendor at the show was Vid Vicious, an adult film director whose business card features the motto: “Keep Calm and Watch Porn!”

Vicious’ impressive resume includes films and Season 2 of Porn Star Academy, a French language reality TV show where competitors compete to become an adult film star.

I asked Vid about the status of the porn industry in Quebec and he said that it’s dying because Quebec consumers prefer American films over locally made ones. Vid also expressed frustrations about the illegal sharing of his films, saying that within a week of his movies coming out someone will have uploaded a copy onto a free site. When I asked how strictly copyright rules are enforced here, he spoke of the difficulties tracing the original uploader and how quickly people share the illegal uploads.

Montreal’s annual Salon is a weekend of fun, bringing warmth to an otherwise chilly city in the winter. It’s a place where nearly all are welcome, great for the shopping, shows, and lessons about sex that may prove handy someday. Check it out next year!

* Featured image by Jo Gorsky

So it finally happens, I meet someone who is brilliant and beautiful, funny, sweet, and holy shit INTERESTED IN ME. We talk all night, maybe even share an innocent kiss, and exchange numbers. I am excited for the first time in months.

Then BOOM, I do a teenie bit of Facebook stalking through our one mutual friend just to find out that they have a girlfriend. Dude, we live in a place and time where it seems that everyone is polyamorous. There is no need to lie to me or be unfaithful to your partner.

You have to be honest, and if you are poly but your partner is not, that throws a big curve ball into the situation. Perhaps rethink your monogamous relationship before bringing someone else into your shit. I have never cheated on someone I was dating.

My friend has gone through the same situation time and time again. After just ending a relationship where her mate came out as having a pregnant girlfriend at home, you would think her luck would get better. The next person she sleeps with is a good friend, who happens to be in an unhappy relationship that he won’t end. She then meets a handsome man at work, he flirts hard, they exchange info because he expressed interest in her show later that night.

Pretty quickly in he says that he has a girlfriend, he is “disappointed that he has a girlfriend,” waaaait, what? HE is disappointed? Then dump her and live your life! Don’t ever be with someone you are disappointed to be with, it’s not fair to her or you. My friend backed off on the conversation only to be textually bombarded by this same guy drunk a few days later begging her to come fuck him.

NO! Not allowed to do that. How dirty and second rate do you think she feels now? Gross bro, just stop.

I have another friend who knowingly had an affair with a married man. Now she feels like that’s the only people she attracts. It is definitely not her goal, she wants love like anyone else. Like they smell the mistress vibe on her or something. There is something about that, wanting to be with someone with no strings, knowing that they will never want more from you but the secret triste that is keeping them hard.

Often the mistress will get the best parts of their lover, they get the fantasy, the sex without the problems. They will also never get the support or companionship of a real relationship, but if that’s what you are looking for, it might be an ideal situation for you.

I remember hooking up with a guy I met on the internet a few years ago. We went on a few dates, he was so great, a poet, a musician, and a fun human. I called him “Big Jon” so you know the sex was amazing.

He must have written 100 poems about how beautiful I was in the short time we were together, I was smitten. He admitted to driving the wrong way on one way streets to get to my house sooner, he carried my bags and held the door for me. A total gentleman, until one night the truth came out.

After a session he said “I don’t want to smell like woman.” What? We just had sex, what to you expect to smell like? Flowers?

I asked him why and he said he didn’t want his wife to know about us. It must have been the whiskey and weed that made him so honest that night. It was the last time I ever saw him, I am NOBODY’S secret side bitch.

I actually did run into him in a dollar store maybe two months later. He had his son in the cart and a small, beautiful, tattooed woman with him putting stuff in the cart that I assume was his wife. They looked like a happy, functioning family.

I saw the panic in his eyes but just kept on walking without even acknowledging his existence. I am no home wrecker.

It’s a shock that people actually lie on online dating profiles, right? You know the guy who says he is 6’1 and single is probably 5’8 and married. There is no need to lie on these things, people are looking for all kinds of hook ups.

There are  websites dedicated to cheaters. Cheat with other cheaters! That’s a killer concept.

About a month ago I was at my favorite local watering hole when I saw man I had never seen before. He was beautiful, we danced, we chatted. He was a children’s book author!

I was in heaven, he touched my butt and kissed me and I thought, wow, finally an artist! Then all of a sudden he just said he couldn’t do this, no explanation.

I remembered the name of one of his books and googled him when I got home. He is married. Of course him and his wife write books together about their kids. Makes sense.

I do not accept being hidden in the shadows. You love me fully and out loud or you can’t have me at all. I am open to being with a polyamorous partner but have not successfully done so. I want to think that I can be open and communicate my needs, but it is not simple.

I know myself, I am passionate, I am all or nothing. I really want to be in love. I want to take care of someone, I want a human to love me, I want to be their serenity, I want to travel the world with someone who is proud to be with me.

Being single, I do have an active sexual lifestyle. I know I can get laid every day of the week if I really wanted to, but I don’t because I have respect for myself. I know that some people just want to get off and run.

Being single and beautiful makes me a target for assholes who put their wedding rings in their pocket on a Saturday night.

Married folks might be bored and I am certainly exciting. These people are looking for validation, they are looking for excitement, something that can often times be lost in long term relationships.

My availability is NOT an invitation. Just because I am single and looking does not mean I am looking for you, asshole. There is no burly football player boyfriend looming over me saying hands off buck, just lil ol me and my shining smile alone in the world.

I have learned to just hold out for what I want and never accept less. I will not compromise my morals for my libido. I will never knowingly take part in breaking up a relationship or marginalizing my own needs.

Maybe I should stop looking for love at bars? Or just come to terms with the fact that it seems most people over 30 are taken. Sadly, there is no way to safeguard yourself from these advances. Assholes happen, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!

We all deserve nothing but the best even though we must swim through a stream of shit to get there.

Its funny to me that when I am trying to get laid it never happens. I want things to be perfect, I want candlelit romance with fine wine and the sweetest leaf.

If I clean my room, dye my hair, take a shower, gussy myself up, and go out crusin’ lone wolf style it is 100% certainty that I will come home alone, drunk, and disappointed. The nights that I am absolutely irresistible are the nights that my crotch smells like yesterday’s left out cat food, I am wearing a frumpy sweater, no makeup, no inhibitions, possibly bleeding, definitely not looking any kinda way.

Saturday I went out on a whim and never expected to even talk to someone, let alone take them back to my car like the true dirt grub I am. This boy was cute as a button. It was the same night as The World’s Largest Disco, so it wasn’t weird that he was wearing polyester bell bottoms. He looked so young and eager to please. Must have been 21, but dangerously close to it.

He told me that I was his favorite Stripteaser, that he loved how I took chances and was politically charged in my work. Ok, tell me more. He said that he had been coming to the show every week for a few months but was too scared to talk to me. ME?

At this point he had my full attention. We had an incredible conversation about art and the state of politics and the world in general. I was in awe of how much he was in awe of me. It was bizarre for this beautiful boy to be such a fan girl.

The bar closed and he was shocked when I asked him what he was doing after. His friends called him both a “savage” and a “pimp” as they watched us walk away. We were just going to my car to light one up and then started making out.

I forgot for a second that I didn’t brush my teeth that day and had just peed in an ally. It was excellent. He made me feel like a teenager. We kissed, he touched me, I touched him. He kept accidentally bumping into the horn, it was cute.

The cherry on top of this story is when he was fingering me and Nickelback came on the radio, I couldn’t help but laugh. Almost 30 years old and I am being finger banged in my car to Nickleback.

What is this life I live? I wasn’t going to have sex with him in my car, so I eventually bid him farewell. With a hickey on my neck and my heart racing I saw him disappear into the night. Of course I said “See you next Tuesday.”

I feel like an idiot for letting him go without even getting his last name or phone number. I was swept up in the moment. I wonder if I will ever see him again?

I need to be more of an “act now” kind of girl, stop second guessing everything. I let him walk off because my room was a disaster and I was embarrassed. I let him walk off because I didn’t shower that day or feel worthy of his sweetness and affection. He wanted to stay, but I pushed him away.

He did not show up at The Stripteasers show. Well that’s that. For my show I even dressed as Chad (the lead singer of Nickelback). I had done Nickelback about a year ago as a joke and still had the costume. My roommate joked “Bro, you know what this means? You have a NICKELBACK routine!”

It was incredible, I gave every person who tipped me a dollar a nickel back. The bar phone rang an hour later and it was a man calling saying that his girlfriend forgot her nickel and wanted it back.

“It was special because the performer gave it to her” I ran to my car to dig for a nickel that would be special enough to be cherished forever. When I gave it to her later she did not recognize me out of drag.

buffalonickels
I am often paralyzed by my own self doubt, I think that someone so beautiful would never ever be interested in me. I see my flaws like roadblocks with flares shooting off of them. I often feel like the only person in the world who is alone.

I know thats just crazy, but the feeling is real. I feel old and inadequate. Like by now I should be successful. I mean, it is all how you measure success, I guess.

I don’t make much money but I am happy, I love my job, it is stress free and wonderful. I love burlesque, I love the time I spend traveling, I love so much about my life, it would just be nice to share it with someone.

sexychadThe times I have fallen for people it has been hard, always one sided, just me not seeing the obvious, just me getting my head smashed, never their fault, always mine for assuming I will get what I want. I am an only child spoiled girl who also has white privilege and middle class money, so I am comfortable, I am safe.

I was born into middle-class America. I have all the makings of a cookie cutter success, I did well in school and got a college degree. I am beautiful, symmetrical, I have great teeth because my parents got me braces. I am an artist. I am a fucking catch. Single, sleeping alone with my crust skin and my lovely cats, surrounded by piles of costumes.

I get laid when I least expect it, so love will be the same. Love is inconvenient and imperfect, it has no rhyme or reason. You cannot control love. People fall in and out of our lives at random.

I never understood the people who had it all planned out: in 5 years I will be married with a child and a house with a white picket fence, there’s a mini van in the driveway and a golden retriever in the yard. These people will settle for the first available mate, the first person who is willing to also be tied to that plan.

I am insane, I could never plan my life like that, I don’t even know what I want, let alone how to find it. I will never settle, I will never be unhappy or partially happy. I will know it when I see it. I will know who I love when I meet them.

Was it the guy in my car that I sent off into the night? Was it that beautiful girl in Montreal with the pink hair and glasses? Was it the one that got away? It is most likely someone I have never met, but maybe seen in passing, maybe they know me, I am just oblivious.

So I was at work and a young male customer was using the communal computer, totally normal right? I was minding my own business doing work, answering emails ect, and then I noticed a faint but familiar fapping sound that could not be much other than a man beating his meat. I’m vegetarian and not interested, Bro.

I instantly looked up and the sound stopped, he looked forward at the screen, no hands in site. This repeated for a little while, I couldn’t believe it. It was nearing the end of my night, I must just be tired. He couldn’t possibly be jerking off right in front of me right? Naw, no man would be that incredibly rude.

I was able to go into the office and peek through the blinds a little to see what he had up on the screen and there was nothing, only the desktop. I mean come on man, I know I am sexy, you probably have never seen a woman so beautiful and powerful as the one standing before you, BUT that is no excuse to thrash your tiny little manhood in my presence. Your fapping is NOT a pick-up line!

Just because I enjoy pickles doesn’t mean I want yours.

Would I have been less upset if he were watching porn on silent? Probably not, I would have just had the cookies as proof of his guilt. I would have been just as furious.

I wonder if this bizarre shit happens to every woman or just me? Am I more in tune, do I notice things that others don’t? Is knowing that misogyny exists like believing in ghosts? If you know they are real you will experience them.

Ghosts are real and so are shitty men. I’m not saying that all ghosts are evil or that all men are bad, its like saying that all white people are racist or all blondes are less than genius.

It is true that because some men are jerks and some white people are racist that men need to make extra effort in sensitivity and white people need to know their privilege and break the cycle of hate and misunderstanding. I am a natural blonde genius, clearly.

Stereotypes, while not a blanket, do sometimes have a basis in truth. We all just need to learn to be kind and pay attention to break the shitty stereotypes that exist and not feed into them.

Back to the wanker: I was in no way being suggestive. I was being “customer service” cordial. I love my job, it is truly magical, but just like any other service job where you deal with live breathing warm blooded human beings you will find assholes that think the rules don’t apply to them.

For the most part his crotchal region was covered by a sweatshirt on his lap, but then I saw for a tiny flicker of a moment something pink and glistening out of the corner of my eye. Like a dog’s red rocket. Again it was gone as soon as it was out.

I had no solid (or even flaccid) proof that I wasn’t insane and seeing things. If it was out for all to see I would have put on a protective rubber glove and yanked him out into the cold by it like a mom with her naughty son’s ear.

The last straw was the next morning when I went to the basement to change the laundry and he was sitting in the dark alone with a blanket covering his crotch. Again I heard familiar fapping, as if he was just waiting for someone to catch him. Gross dude, now I definitely have to wash that blanket.

There are pages of people talking about public masturbation on the internet, doing it in school, or church, ect. So many people enjoy things better when they think they might get caught. Yea sometimes I poop with the door open, but not at somebody else’s house.

Sometimes when you are horny you just gotta jerk off, it’s natural, it’s totally cool! Do not feel guilty for masturbating or watching porn. Masturbation can be a positive way to release energy, not a social stigma or deviance.

We all do it. Just do it in a private place and not at the expense of an innocent bystander. It is spacial rape and blatant disrespect, you are taking over a public place with your private matter. Do not assume that anyone else wants to see what you are doing, even if being caught is part of your kink, think before you put that on someone.

Consent is Awesome! See :)
I get off with a little help from my friends! (with their consent)

Great places to jerk off:
In your own bed!
In a rented bed!
In the bathroom! (hey some places even have glory holes)
In the shower (easiest clean up)
In the car! (when its parked somewhere remote)
In an abandoned building!
Locked in the utility closet at work.
Under a tree in the middle of the woods (like deep woods, not a park or playground, creeper)
In a shady adult movie theatre designed for that stuff with a person who is knowingly paid to mop jizz.
NOT IN FRONT OF UNWILLING PEOPLE!

If the only way you can get off if by having people watch then go to a sex club! Download some hook up apps or search Craigslist personals. Fetlife is also an incredible resource for alternative sexual preferences. Surf the internet for two minutes and you will find others who are into the same fetish lifestyle you are.

Consent is so fucking cool! Involving someone who did not give you consent in your sexual game is the same as rape, remember that next time.