12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 6 Journal Entries


April 11th

So here’s what I learned from this break-up:

Firstly, sex and feminism are two hugely important issues for me and they need to be ironed out with a partner before we get serious, put labels on each other, make promises, etc. I can’t date someone who denies or perpetuates the patriarchy, and I can’t date someone who’s not as libidinous, sexually adventurous, and communicative as I need them to be.

Secondly, I need to stop rushing into things. I jumped on this opportunity because I desperately wanted a boyfriend and S___ seemed (through my rose-colored glasses) to fit the bill. My mind filled in the blanks and paved over some problems to round him up to boyfriend-worthy material, when he is so clearly not a good match for me. In future I should give people a trial run of at least a month before we jump to labels and/or commitments, because that’s how much time I need to get a sense of compatibility and problem areas.

Thirdly, like many people in our sex-shaming culture, I have internalized the notion that sex problems aren’t a “good enough” reason to break up with someone. As if sexual resentments don’t bleed into the rest of the relationship. As if sex isn’t an important mode of expressing affection, attraction and adoration. As if sex isn’t vital to my career, my community, my identity, my happiness. I should not let anyone bully or slut-shame me into de-prioritizing sex, because it is important to me and that is not a bad or unreasonable thing.

Fourthly, maybe I am not as desperate for an emotionally committed partnership as I thought I was. Being emotionally intimate with someone is work and it requires time, effort, emotional labor, and vulnerability. I will be ready to go there again when I meet the right person and when my mental health steadies a bit more, but at the time being, I’d kind of rather my sex life be primarily fun and flirty and light and breezy, rather than weighed down with partners’ feelings and baggage. (Cruel, perhaps, but true.)

Fifthly: my friends and family’s opinions on my beaux are of great importance to me and color how I perceive said beaux. For the most part this is good, because they have my best interests at heart. But I should be careful not to introduce beaux to the other people in my life too early; it makes it even harder to end things if I need to. They feel so entangled in my life.


August 20th

This morning C___ and I talked over a Sneaky Dee’s breakfast about how I think I have to break up with B___. I lamented to C___ that I fear I’m too picky – I never seem to stick with anyone lately, no one’s good enough for me – but he told me that a lot of unhappy marriages and nasty divorces could be avoided if folks were pickier. He also said (I’m paraphrasing hugely) that every relationship has a cost attached to it – time, energy, etc. – and if it doesn’t replenish/uplift you, then the cost may not be worth it.

It’s amazing how C___ can be such a wise mentor to me at times, despite often being a key source of my emotional distress. I started to feel nauseously heavy and sad while discussing B___ with him and it was partly because of the words at the back of my throat that I couldn’t say: “No one is as good for me as you. I’m scared that no one ever will be as good for me as you. I’m sad that you still don’t want me.”

The way in which I like him is dumb and all-consuming.


August 31st

I am constantly and newly amazed by the ongoing discovery that the way I think about a thing – the words I use to describe it, the mental categories I sort it into, and so on – can have such a huge effect on my perception of that thing. See, for example, how drastically my opinion of blowjobs changed when I sort of just decided I liked them. See, too, how these past couple days I’ve sort of just decided that C___ isn’t my crush anymore, and it seems to be working.

Granted, things may be different when I see him in person again. But I’ve been so good. I haven’t looked at his tweets. I haven’t texted or sexted or snapped him, though I’ve wanted to. When songs of his have come up on shuffle, I’ve shouted “NOPE!” and skipped them. The times he’s crossed my mind, I’ve felt less smitten and more annoyed, disillusioned.

And interestingly, I’ve felt sane, even lacking the anchor of a central focus on this man. I’ve been reflecting on how, for a literal year, this crush has felt like the biggest thing in my life. Nothing else has received so much gossipy dissection, creative unpacking and mental energy, so many tears, journal entries and hopeful daydreams. A year is a long time to be that singularly focused on something that was never going to lead to anything. It feels like I’ve – at least for the moment – broken the spell, escaped the thrall, untangled the web and stepped out of it. It feels like such a relief. It feels like I have so much more love to give and so much more emotional energy at my disposal now that I’m not actively spending it on some insensitive dingus who doesn’t deserve it.


September 2nd

Reflecting a lot lately on the patriarchal myth that the romantic and sexual attention of men is a scarce resource for which women should clamber and compete. It’s such bullshit. “Dick is abundant and low value,” as Alana Massey would say – and also, the abundance (or lack thereof) of dick in my life is not a reflection of my worth as a human being.

This past year, a year of sluttiness, has taught me many things, including that I am more than capable of attracting dudes – and now that I know that, I can kind of relax. I don’t have to constantly prove my desirability to myself or to the world. I can be pickier in my romantic and sexual decisions because I know I have options. Good dick isn’t a resource I have to desperately grasp at whenever scant handfuls of it appear ephemerally in my vicinity; it’s a free-flowing river, and I can dip into the constant cascade any damn time I want.


September 4th

T___ was flirting with me on Twitter last night, and I was into it, and it made me ponder my own (limited) gayness. I still don’t really have a sense of how much of my vagina-reticence is an actual lack of attraction and how much is just anxiety and uncertainty. After all, there was a time, just a few short years ago, when the idea of sex with dudes held very little appeal for me, because it scared me – and now I’m like, GIVE ME ALL THE DICKS! So I wonder if I would take to pussy like a fish in water if I were to dive in and try it out already. Frankly T___ is a total babe and I would be DOWN. Hmm.

What I’d really like is a situation I briefly talked about with C___ earlier this summer: I want the two of us to threesome with a pretty lady (N___ or T___, ideally) and for him to watch over me and give me advice/direction as I do stuff to her. I don’t know what it says about my kinks or my “daddy issues” or my concept of C___ that I want him to play a watchful-mentor role in my sexytimes, but to me that just sounds so lovely and comforting.

(I know, I’m not supposed to be writing about him or thinking about him, etc. but this is in a mentor capacity and not a person-I’m-in-love-with capacity, soooo…)


October 24th

So, I don’t feel especially romantic or sexual toward C___ anymore, but I do still feel emotionally fixated on him, and it’s weird to parse and process that distinction. Every moment I spend with him feels critically important and worth memorizing, and once I say goodbye to him, I typically enter into a mini-depressive episode that lasts 12-48 hours or so. I keep trying to figure this out. I think it’s for two reasons:

1. My brain is just used to responding to him in this way, like how alcoholics probably get a little boost of dopamine when they see or smell booze. Habit and conditioning and all that. Bex compared this to how my iPhone thinks I mean “duck” when I type “fuck”; there’s nothing for it but to keep gently correcting its mistake until it learns. And likewise, I just have to keep gently reminding my brain that C___ is not the perfect, everlasting source of comfort, happiness and rightness that I once believed him to be.

2. We have almost the exact same sense of humor; he is really funny and smart in a way that just jives with my brain – that’s not my dumb crush talking, that’s just factually true, unfortunately (?) – so the emotional “drop” after that intense level of joy and amusement can be rough. But I guess I just have to reorient my thinking around that. When I go see an improv show that makes me laugh a lot, I don’t mope around afterward because the show is over and I’ll never get to see it again; I just appreciate that I DID get to see it, and I pursue yet more things that will make me happy. Life is a processional; you can’t stop or look back. It doesn’t work. You trip and fall and get trampled and hurt yourself. Keep walking, ya dummo.

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

It’s the 21st century, so our lives are documented most vividly in hastily-snapped smartphone selfies. Flipping through the selfies folder on my phone is an emotional journey: big smiles, momentous days, fond memories. It was hard to choose just seven selfies to tell the story of my year, but I think these are the best ones to do that.

img_1329In April, I went on a road trip to Minneapolis by way of Chicago, with Bex, Taylor, and Caitlin. There were some long, long days of driving – days when we’d be on the road for 10 or 11 hours at a time. We rarely got bored, because we had each other’s company and our phones to keep us entertained (except when Bug Tussel fucked up our cell service briefly), but at one point the road became so monotonous to me that I began sexting a fuckbuddy back home out of sheer desperation. He politely requested a boob selfie from me and Bex, and we reminded him, “Subs respond better to direct orders!” The reply came back, “Okay: topless pic. Now.” In the middle of a rainstorm on a highway somewhere in Wisconsin, we whipped our tits out and snapped this silly shot (with Caitlin in the background). “That was like the boss fight of nudes!” Bex declared afterward.

imageRemember that time I met one of my lifelong heroes, Kidder Kaper, while visiting his hometown in the midwest? Remember how he drove me back to my Airbnb and then asked me if I wanted to kiss?! Remember how, immediately after that kiss, we got out of the car and took a bunch of goofy selfies together? I will treasure these shots forever, I’m sure. This one, in particular, makes me smile. Kidder looks as impassioned as ever, and my facial expression is the exact blend of delight and astonishment I was feeling about the whole situation.

img_2890My friend Brent is one of my favorite people on earth. We connected on Twitter by chance last year when I started listening to his podcast and tweeting at him. Then we met in person when he spent some time in Toronto developing Use Your Words, and instantly bonded over a shared love of showtunes, good booze, and bad puns. (Plus he understands that I am the Queen of Wands.) We took a fair number of selfies together this year, at various shindigs, but this one is my favorite. That glowy, giggly grin on my face? That is how happy this dude makes me, with his jokes, his songs, and his friendship. (Sorry-not-sorry fer gettin’ all sappy on you.)

img_1790It was pretty freakin’ momentous for me to meet Gala Darling in person this year; she’s been my hero since I was 15. She was preternaturally kind and encouraging, at a time in my life when I needed her exact brand of tough-love mentorship even more than usual. We snapped this selfie together on an East Village side street while waiting for Gala’s astrologer friend to come meet up with us. It’s cliché to say I felt like I was dreaming, but I did: how else could I possibly be in New York City with my role model/spirit mama?!

imageI was stoked as hell to meet porn legend Nina Hartley at the Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit. She was a total sweetheart and I now have bragging rights for the rest of time. But what I think about, when I look at this photo, is the minutes that led up to it. I’d told Bex I wanted to meet Nina but was too nervous to go and talk to her. Bex, ever an encourager of my dreams, calmly told me that I was going to go talk to Nina; there were no two ways about it. Bex grabbed my hand, led me over to Nina, and introduced me to her. I feel so blessed to have friends who care about me enough to give me tough love when my anxiety is being an idiot. If not for Bex, I never would’ve gotten to tell Nina about that time my first boyfriend quoted one of her videos when going down on me!

When I was targeted by a bunch of misogynist trolls in July, one of them wrote a blog post about me and gleefully linked to this photo of me in my Aslan Nicki harness as if it were some horrible, disgusting thing that could not ever be unseen. I had to laugh when I clicked through and saw which photo he’d linked to. It wasn’t anything I’d consider ugly or embarrassing; in fact, I look babely as hell in this picture. I felt hot that night and wanted to celebrate it, commemorate it. That’s why I took this shot; that’s why I take most of the selfies I take. Never let anyone shame you for expressing your glorious, gorgeous self in a reverential self-portrait; you deserve to be immortalized in this way.

img_3453The night this was taken, my friend Cadence had invited me over to catch up, which amounted to me basically crying at her about boys all night. We ordered sushi, drank a lot of whiskey, and I told her about the rejections, break-ups and betrayals I’d been through recently. Getting that all off my chest, and laughing with my oldest friend, made my problems seem surmountable for the first time in a long while. I ducked into her bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and saw a foxy babe staring back at me, instead of just a hollow, depressed shell of a girl. So I pulled my shirt down, fluffed up my hair, and snapped this shot. I felt powerful, defiant, and uncharacteristically capable. I felt like things were going to be okay.

What are your favorite selfies you took this year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 8 Classic Tweets


Increasingly, I document my life in tweets. When doing year-end summaries and round-ups, I used to look at my journals; now I mostly look at my tweets. They’re wee little in-the-moment expressions of excitement, devastation, contentment, rage. They’re bite-sized emotional journeys. Or sometimes they’re just dumb jokes.

Here are 8 of my favorite things I’ve tweeted this year. It was really impossible to pick the 8 best ones, because I’ve tweeted thousands upon thousands of times this year. But here’s a few that I think are pretty good.

My Twitter followers have come to expect goofy puns and portmanteaux from me – I’ve coined terms like femcouragement, Tindirge, sexthaustion, dilgrimage, and cumedian. “Cocktimism” was one of my favorites this year, though. I just think it’s a nice idea. (The opposite, incase you were wondering, is – of course – pessijism.)

I’ve had this thought so many times. The BJ thirst is real, y’all.

This is not a joke; I really do think that if you’re sexually active, you should consider keeping a Magic Wand on hand, just incase. As I’ve told you before, I greatly appreciate past partners who’ve handed me a Hitachi mid-bang, purely to increase my pleasure. What angels!

This is a sick burn that you can feel free to use, the next time a man slides into your DMs demanding free nudes with the shameless entitlement of a cartoon Donald Trump on steroids.

This tweet is utterly emblematic of my transforming attitude on blowjobs. Where there was once reluctance, there is now only extreme enthusiasm. Funny what a good dick can do.

I think I tweeted this while drunk, because I don’t remember writing it. I just know that every time I stumble across it again, I burst out laughing.

As someone who has met most of my sexual and romantic partners online, I have a lot of feelings about “modern romance.” I get nostalgic about MSN Messenger, sappy about Twitter avatars, and precious about Spotify playlists. Read receipts make my heartbeat quicken; Snapchat notifications light up my smile. Internet-era dating is just gonna get weirder as time goes on, folks, and I am 100% okay with that.

This happened after I’d given two BJs in a 24-hour period and then gone to a dentist appointment, so, needless to say, it really threw me for a loop. I don’t think my dad had the slightest clue why I laughed so damn hard.

What were your favorite tweets of 2016?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 9 Best New Sex Toys


I am a lucky, lucky babe: companies are always sending me new sex toys and sexual products to try. However, my genitals are picky as hell, so it’s rare for me to deviate from my tried-and-true favorites and fall in love with something new. However, here are 9 toys I received this year that I liked a lot.

9. I don’t really consider myself a “size queen.” True, some of my favorite toys are big – most notably the Double Trouble and Eleven – but I like those more for their curve than their size. So I’m a bit surprised that the Tantus Sam snuck onto this list. It’s pure girth, and doesn’t really bring much else to the table. But gosh, sometimes I just want something thick and meaty inside me and nothing less will do. And when that craving hits, all I can do is sigh, roll my eyes, pull out the Sam, slather it in lube, and get ready for a good solid fuckin’. Available at SheVibe, PinkCherry U.S., PinkCherry CA, and Peepshow Toys.

8. Dammit, Lelo; I can’t believe I kind of like your Mona Wave. Its come-hither motion is still just as torturously slow as it was when I wrote my review, but I must admit that sometimes I’m in the mood to be edged like that. (God knows I’d never have the self-control to stroke my own G-spot as languorously as the Mona Wave strokes it.) Though I’m hesitant to support Lelo anymore because they’re the worst, admittedly I don’t have any other toys quite like the Mona Wave. Available at SheVibe, Come As You Are, and Peepshow Toys.

7. I bought my hot pink California Exotics mini clit pump impulsively, while taking a friend shopping for sex toys, and I’m so glad I did. Previous shitty cheap pumps had failed me, but this one – while still affordable – actually does what a pump is supposed to do. I find it pairs especially well with weed; when I’m high, the intense suction on my clit feels like almost enough to get me off. And it’s certainly enough to get me extremely wet and turned on. Available at Come As You Are.

img_52396. I’ve owned an Aslan Jaguar harness for a while, but this year I traded my black one for a pink one. Still haven’t had occasion to actually use a harness, despite owning three of them (what am I even doing with my life?!) but my raspberry Jag makes me extremely happy nonetheless. One day I’ll fuck someone while wearing this, I promise. Available at SheVibe, Come As You Are, and Early to Bed.

5. During our road trip to Minneapolis in April, my best pal Bex visited kink-themed coffee shop Leather & Latte without me and came back to our Airbnb with a brand new stone lollipop crop. I tried it out on my arm and then on my thigh, and before too long, decided I needed to pay a visit to the café and buy my own crop ASAP. I’m so glad I snapped it up while I had the chance! It’s the stingiest, bruisiest impact play toy I own, and was an oft-requested hit at our spanking partyAvailable… fuckin’ nowhere except in-person at Leather & Latte, apparently. Sorry!

img_52464. Speaking of impact play toys… My KinkMachineWorks Lexan paddle is my favorite one of all time (at least so far). I bought it after eying it on Etsy for quite some time. The first night I got it, I brought it over to Georgia‘s house and she left some impressive bruises on me. What I like about this thing is that it’s bruisey and pleasantly thuddy without being overly painful. Yeah, it hurts, but it’s rarely too much for me to take. Not to mention, there’s something to be said for a see-through paddle, especially if (like me) you like to look at beautiful butts as you smack ’em… Available on Etsy.

3. I don’t have much to say about the Doxy Wand, ’cause it’s just a good vibrator that does its fuckin’ job. You would be surprised how few vibes I can actually say that about. This thing is rumbly and dependable; it was an easy choice for this list, even though I still favor my Magic Wand RechargeableAvailable at SheVibe, Tantus, and Early to Bed

img_52322. I knew the Liberator Jaz would upgrade my sex life, but I didn’t realize quite how much! I’ve used it countless times during sex and masturbation, to boost my hips for a more comfortable and pleasurable angle of penetration. It also works great for spanking, blowjobs, cunnilingus, and all manner of other fun things. I’m glad I made the investment in this firm little workhorse! Available at SheVibe, Come As You Are, and Peepshow Toys

1. Hands down, my favorite new toy I acquired this year is my Eroscillator Top Deluxe. I’ve said it all before and I’ll say it again: it makes me come super hard, super fast. It fits neatly between bodies during sex. It pairs well with dildos, partners’ fingers, and/or partners’ dicks. It’s quiet-ish, well-made, slightly less ugly now than its previous copper iteration, and a definite conversation starter. It’s remained on my nightstand ever since I got it, which is the highest compliment I can give a sex toy, truly. Available at SheVibe, PinkCherry U.S., and PinkCherry CA.

What were your favorite sex toys this year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 10 Perfect Sex Songs

I’m a music nerd and a sex nerd, so of course, one of the things I get nerdy about is sex music. I have an ever-expanding playlist of sexy tunes, the perfect soundtrack for sheddin’ yer clothes and bangin’ yer babe. Here are my 2016 favorites, hand-picked to facilitate your melodious fucktimes…

Yuna feat. Usher – Crush. At one point this year, a friend gave me some verrrrry potent weed while I was at his house, and I started to “green out.” I was dizzy, paranoid, and nauseous. To calm me down, my friend showed me the video for this song, which he’d only just discovered. It’s such a groovy, juicy slow-jam that it did indeed calm my nerves and lull me into relaxation. I thought I’d like it less if I re-listened while sober, but nope: still a solid sex song.

Campsite Dream – Kiss Me. This dancefloor-appropriate cover of the Sixpence None the Richer classic is sweet, simple, and pretty. I like a raunchy, X-rated jam as much as the next gal, but there is something uniquely appealing about songs that are subtler in their flirtation. Who doesn’t have a fond memory of a kiss that was utterly chaste and yet meant absolutely everything?

Chet Baker – My Funny Valentine. An oldie but a reeeeal goodie, which only just made its way into my sex-song rotation this past year. Chet’s voice is like a droplet of hazelnut coffee dripping languorously down a swatch of dark velvet. There are other renditions of this song I like better (Rickie Lee Jones’ comes to mind), but for pure carnal appeal, this one wins out.

Nick Jonas – Don’t Make Me Choose. Nick’s Last Year Was Complicated was indubitably one of my favorite albums of 2016. It’s chock full of sexiness (“How did our clothes end up all on the floor? Didn’t we just break each other’s hearts?”) but I think this is the smoothest song of the bunch. Nick’s effortless, slightly whiny falsetto is delicious.

Naive Thieves – Anxieté. Another of my most-adored albums this year was Naive Thieves’ Vamonos, which came out in 2014 but took me til 2016 to discover. The lead singer of this band has a voice like molasses; I find it hot any time, but especially when I’m high (a lot of music makes me wet when I’m high, actually). The whole record is full of yummy, jumpy pop, but Anxieté is the song I most want to fuck to. It’s flustered, frantic, and tense – like a memorable quickie in a bar bathroom on an ill-advised Friday night.

Bahamas – All the Time. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” this song begins, and that sentiment is echoed in the music itself: it’s slow, languorous, rhythmically sidling toward its lazy goal. It feels like a Sunday-morning fuck, when the sun arcs in through an open window and makes your darling’s face even more radiant than usual. It feels like being awoken by a boner pressed up against your ass. It feels like your sweetheart bringing you a perfect cup of coffee after they make you come spectacularly, and then snuggling up against you and saying, “Mmm.”

The Neighbourhood – Daddy Issues. Look, if you want your song to get my attention, put “daddy” in the title. But this song delivers, even once you move past the name. “Go ahead and cry, little girl. Nobody does it like you do,” the singer purrs. “And if you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do.” This is the most sexualized version of a daddy/girl dynamic I’ve ever heard in a song, and dammit, it’s lovely.

A Yawn Worth Yelling – Empty Space. This band’s EP Start Somewhere became a mental mantra for me in early 2016, something to listen to on loop when I was anxious or sad and needed to calm down. It’s angry and whiny, in typical pop-punk fashion, but the lyrics are smart and the melodies are clever. There was comfort in thrashing the same songs over and over until I knew them inside and out. I want to get fucked to Empty Space while someone cute kisses my neck and grips my wrists.

Johnny Stimson – So Good. This song is sexy in the way that Marvin Gaye’s songs were, with a splash of early Justin Timberlake for good measure. It feels like an unexpected kiss from your lover in the middle of the street during a leisurely autumn stroll. They back you up against a fence and step right into your space, and for a moment you’re embarrassed, but then you’re too turned on to care.

Alina Baraz feat. Galimatias – Pretty Thoughts. An Alina Baraz song made it onto last year’s list, too; she’s a returning champion. What can I say: her music is dangerous. Play this song in front of someone you find attractive, who finds you attractive too, and just try not to have sex. I dare you.


What were your favorite sex songs this year, darlings?