Monthly Faves: Geeks & Tweed

I feel like my mental health picked up a bit this month after being somewhat abysmal since my breakup in August, so that’s been nice! A new job and a new crush are reinvigorating me. Here are some of the sexy things I enjoyed in October…

Sex toys

• I like the new Je Joue bullet more than I was expecting to! It has this great motor that’s rumbly in a different way than I’m used to; it’s hard to describe. I’ll write a full review eventually. When I want a pinpoint clit vibe, lately I’ve been alternating between my Tangos, my ScreamingO Vooom, and this li’l purple bullet. They all have a different quality of vibration, so it’s a good mix!

• I’m also enjoying the Satisfyer Pro Penguin lately. Satisfyer sent me most of their range earlier this year, and to be real with you, my clit is not discerning enough to have a preference between the three (!) Satisfyers I own – but this little pink one wins my heart based on ergonomics and aesthetics alone. The suction-y sensation makes a particularly great pairing with cunnilingus porn!

Fantasy fodder

• There’s a porn company called “Fuck the Geek” which has given a title to a genre of porn I’ve long enjoyed: unreasonably hot woman bangs incongruously schlubby dude. I would imagine the guys who watch this like it because it’s a form of wish fulfilment, much like sitcoms where a Kevin James-lookin’ motherfucker is married to a Leah Remini-lookin’ stunner. But for me, the appeal of these scenes is the dude’s utter incredulity. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be getting sucked/fucked by a classically porny starlet – and he and his boner respond with suitable enthusiasm!

• Been thinking a lot about salt-and-pepper daddy doms in tweed jackets (what else is new, right). If a dude looks like a professor from a dramatic teen movie set at a New England boarding school, I probably have a crush on him, and he should really consider spanking me with a wooden ruler. I’m just sayin’.

• This mom-and-son roleplay/blowjob video absolutely fucking delighted me. Mrs. Mischief has such a sense of humor about the whole scene. Plus, she’s a total babe and a dick wiz – I don’t normally eroticize mom/son dynamics very much but this one noticeably turned me on while also making me giggle and applaud.

Sexcetera

• Some of my work elsewhere this month: I wrote about toxic sex toys (including ones containing CHLORINE!) for Glamour. I reported on the orgasm gap for Herizons. I offered some Halloween sexy roleplay suggestions over at Ignite. I wrote some smutty Brooklyn Nine-Nine fanfiction. I discussed ways to introduce a sex toy into your relationship for Peepshow. I talked with Inspirational Songstress about my music, my favorite place to write, and my confidence journey. I guested on What’s My Body Doing? to talk dominance and submission with the ever-adorable Eva.

• Orgasm stats: as of time of writing on the 30th, I’d had 30 orgasms this month, making it an unusually libidinous month for me and bringing my total for the year up to 279 so far. 300 is within reach!! #nerd

Femme stuff

• Autumn always reignites my fondness for dark lipsticks. Lately I’ve been swooning over Sephora cream lip stain in Blackberry Sorbet, MAC lipstick in Fashion Revival, and (the cream of the #SpookyFemme crop) MAC Retro Matte liquid lipstick in Caviar.

• I bought a black crop top at H&M for about $8 and it’s perfect: simple, flattering, easy, and versatile. It pairs well with leggings, skirts, shorts, and even just underwear when I’m loungin’ around the house. I love how it offsets any necklace I wear (including my hot pink internal clit).

• The scents I can’t get enough of this month: Memoirs of a Trespasser by Imaginary Authors is comforting, yet adventurous, like a rugged explorer recounting his journeys to his wife in their cozy house upon his return home. Sir by D.S. & Durga is over-the-top stately masculinity, like I’m snuggled up in the aforementioned fantasy daddy dom’s tweed blazer, sipping whiskey by a roaring fire. Rachel Syme says Cuir by Mona di Orio is the perfume Rosa Diaz would wear, and I am inclined to agree: it’s leathery and fierce and doesn’t care what you think.

Little things

Smoking a joint in the bath while wearing a sheet mask (truly peak #StonerFemme). Big cheap breakfasts at my local diner, where they don’t mind if I sit for hours sipping coffee and writing about kink. The word “yikes.” Being kinky Powerpuff girls with Eva. Spotify algorithms. Improv crushes (fucking always). Merciless to-do lists on pink paper. My dad buying me sushi. Playing sad blowjob songs for Anais on her piano. Attending my high school reunion. My new part-time job at a luxe sex shop! When I told my FWB I kinda wanted to call him Daddy and he reacted with utter nonchalance. Puppy kisses. Sharing pizza, wine, and a huge cookie with Suz in her beautiful apartment. Laura Antoniou’s kinky murder-mystery The Killer Wore Leather. Feeling abundant. Giant donuts at my fave café. Crying with laughter at Catch23. Afternoon naps in my sunny bedroom.

3 Versions of Myself I Access Through Fragrances

“John Varvatos” by John Varvatos

I am a cisgender woman, but it is just not that simple. Gender never is.

In high school, I used to describe my eclectic personal style as a mix between a 1950s pinup girl, a 1980s teen queen, and a British schoolboy. Elements of the latter only snuck into my outfits occasionally – a collared shirt here, a silk striped necktie there – but I always felt that schoolboy somewhere below the surface, particularly as I came into my queer identity. Pursuing girls, giggling and blushing at girls in the school cafeteria, training my gaze on girls in an unabashedly desirous manner – these all brought out a butchness in me, for lack of a better term; a hard sharpness on the edges of my otherwise plush femininity.

I wondered – and still sometimes wonder – whether my once-in-a-blue-moon dalliances with dapperness are more an homage to a person I want to be, or a person I want to fuck. But then, maybe those two categories are always a Venn diagram, and it’s just a question of how much overlap exists in your personal version.

When I peruse fragrances online, I’m most drawn to notes I associate with masculinity: leather, oak, tobacco, sandalwood. It all sounds terribly sexy, for much the same reason I sigh and swoon when I encounter phrases like “blue striped button-down with the sleeves rolled up” or “freshly shined leather wingtips.” These aesthetic elements sit right in the centre of my Venn diagram of attraction and aspiration: a sweet spot where I can equally imagine myself pinned against a wall by a ravishing man who is kissing me, or being that man.

I ordered a sample of John Varvatos’ self-titled fragrance because a male xoJane writer described it as smelling “[like] you spilled a chai latte into an old leather jacket.” I could see it so clearly. Flirting with a leather-clad heartthrob in a bustling café, all waxy hair pomade and smug bravado – or being that heartthrob, and not needing to ponder petty concerns like gender, because chai and leather and flirty nerve are genderless and always have been.

There are some “men’s” fragrances that feel like drag when I wear them, coming off incongruously boyish on little ol’ femmey me. But John Varvatos melts into my skin and my gender with an uncomplicated ease. It’s masculine and powerful and sexy and bold, but coexists peacefully with my femininity and softness and docility. It’s like a men’s leather jacket I might steal from a boyfriend, that looks beefcake-handsome on him, but adorably spunky on me. It’s masc but it’s not a mask. It’s the brashest kind of boy this cis femme lady can ever be.

I love it. I want to wear it every day. I want to feel this attuned to all my gender-peculiar facets at every moment. I don’t ever want to lose that.

“Carnal Flower” by Frederic Malle

Like anyone who’s lived in a particular city for a long time, I have personal rituals tied to certain places and activities in my city. Like any introvert, many of my personal rituals involve being alone.

There are some activities I will not do alone. Though I love attending improv shows at places like Comedy Bar and the Bad Dog Theatre, I cannot go to a show solo; sipping a beer in a claustrophobic bar before the show cranks my social anxiety up to eleven, as my bad brain hallucinates judgmental eyes lingering on me from across the crowd. Likewise, I will not go to local sex club Oasis Aqualounge unless I am meeting at least one person there; the libidinous glances and bold advances of disingenuous lotharios aren’t worth enduring, even to languish in Oasis’ beauteous heated pool under the stars.

One thing I do love to do alone, however, is go to the theatre. In particular: Soulpepper, in the Distillery District.

There is something classy, mysterious, and refined about attending the theatre alone, at least in my imagination. I select shows carefully every year, spacing out my tickets so I never have to go longer than a couple months without one of these pilgrimages. It’s a special, pre-planned night out, like taking myself on a date. I get dressed up, do my makeup, spritz on some scent. When I used to live in the east end, I would get on the King streetcar, clutching a little leather purse and walking with purpose, and ride it down to the Distillery. Once there, I walk along the dimly-lit cobblestone streets, sometimes wobbling in heels (the theatre is one of the only occasions I deem worthy of heels), until I reach the warm, bright, elegant lobby of the Soulpepper theatre.

The crowd is different there from my usual haunts; it’s a lot of older people, married couples, mature professionals. Whereas swilling beer alone in the crowded Comedy Bar makes me feel like people are staring at me and think I’m weird, sipping a pint of Tankhouse in Soulpepper’s lobby gets me almost no attention at all. Everyone bustles softly around the space, waiting for the house to open, cooing gently at the posters of coming attractions, greeting each other with warm enthusiasm. There is no culture of cruising, scoping, judging or partying. I am almost always the youngest person in the room, but am otherwise invisible.

Stripped of other people’s projections, then, I am free to be whomsoever I please, and to be that woman in peace. And at Soulpepper – a brick and wood haven full of quiet theatre devotees – I am a mature, sophisticated young woman, elegant in my little dress and little shoes. I am precious and put-together, confident and collected. I am a nonexistent but aspirational vision of myself.

Frederic Malle’s Carnal Flower is often described as a “dangerous” or “sexy” scent, but I don’t get that from it at all. On me, it’s floral, summery, and feminine in a way I have never quite been. Helena Fitzgerald describes the woman evoked by this perfume as “the kind of woman I had once thought could wear perfume while I couldn’t… I am not her; through perfume I could try on her life as a costume.” I feel this too: when I wear Carnal Flower, I can gather up my guts, my smudged eyeliner and scuffed boots and crooked teeth, and compress myself into a lither, lovelier little lady. A lady who might – for example – waltz up to the bar in the Soulpepper lobby, order a glass of white wine, and sit sipping it on a leather chaise without once worrying what anyone thinks of her.

“Acqua di Gio” by Giorgio Armani

I’ve told you before about my conflicted love affair with Acqua di Gio. It’s the signature scent of someone I used to love, who never loved me in the same way. My heart’s year-long tussle with this man was all wild hope tempered with crushing disappointment. One followed the other, like a dance. We’d have a good night out, laughing over beers and sandwiches – and then I wouldn’t hear from him for days. We’d share sex so intimate, it made me believe those who use “intimacy” as a euphemism for sex – and then he’d declare how much he valued my friendship. He’d tell me that we were on the same wavelength, that we were meant to stick around in each other’s lives, that our connection was special and deep – and then he’d go off grinning goofily on dates with random women from OkCupid, looking for “the one.” I remained the one he left behind.

If I’d never been in love with someone who wore Acqua di Gio, probably its inhalation would strike me only as mildly pleasant. It might remind me of oceans, cucumbers, or musky muscled strangers fresh out of the shower. But I have been in love with someone who wore it, so when Acqua di Gio crosses my nostrils, it’s a guilty hit of glee. An endorphin rush I quickly work to suppress. Wild hope, as I’ve said, tempered with crushing disappointment.

This is a problematic reaction to have to a fragrance as ubiquitous as Acqua di Gio. I rarely go a week without passing someone on the street who’s wearing it. Every time, every damn time, I’m struck with the pins-and-needles feeling that haunted me throughout that ordeal: Will he ever love me? Why doesn’t he love me? How do I make him love me? Why doesn’t he love me? That love has since faded, but the scent is a time trigger, dragging me back into that pit I spent so long clawing my way out of. It’s a lot to grapple with, on a street corner, surrounded by strangers.

So I became interested in reclaiming the scent, reworking its fraught associations, like exposure therapy. I read an xoJane article about this a while back, and the idea resonated hard. When friends go through breakups, I tell them to make new memories in the locations that remind them of their ex – why not do the same with a scent?

There are times, while I’m wearing Acqua di Gio, when I catch a primal whiff and sink back into nostalgic sadness, wanting that Prince Charming and the promise of happiness he dangled just out of my reach. But then there are other times when I breathe deep and realize I am that Prince Charming, I can be happy, and I can and will save myself. There is hope. There is always hope.

Monthly Faves: Hearts, Wands, & Tears

It’s been a tough month, but I feel very loved. Here were some of my fave things in August…

Sex toys

• Swoooon: this month I was gifted a red glittery Doxy Die Cast wand vibrator. Beyond just being stunning to look at, it’s also a remarkable wand. The vibrations are rumbly and shockingly strong, and I just love the way this sexy aluminum wand feels in my hands. Full review to come!

• My other exciting acquisition this month was an Njoy Pure Plug 2.0. It’s massive, and I haven’t been able to get it inside me yet, but I’m holding out hope that someday I will!

Fantasy fodder

• I received a four-hand erotic massage from some local sexological bodywork pros this month and it was fucking divine. This type of massage pings a lot of my kinks about sexual service and partners having intimate knowledge of my preferences, so I found it super hot at the time and continued to find it super hot when I revisited it in subsequent fantasies. (Side note: a hookup asked me how the massage went, and when I said it was so good that I wished I could get one every week, he replied, “Play your cards right and you just might…”!)

• Since I went through a pretty traumatic break-up this month, I’ve had to recalibrate my fantasy life a bit so it doesn’t just constantly make me cry (*sad trombone*). This has meant seeking out new porn, dirty fanfiction, and erotica, as well as cultivating crushes on new people (both celebrities and IRL folks) to ponder in private moments. Masturbation is no longer an emotionally painful process for me, so that’s something!

Sexcetera

• Some of my work elsewhere this month: For Kinkly, I wrote about how an erotic massage helped me get over my break-up. I investigated the new at-home HPV test for Glamour. I wrote a Letter to the Editor about female orgasms for the Walrus. I identified some killer sex toy combinations and common “taboo” fantasies for Ignite. Peepshow asked me to chronicle some weird things people have put in their butts. I was interviewed by Coffee & Kink. I hosted Sex City Radio, interviewing sex toy reviewer Epiphora, break-up coach Natalia Juarez, and asexual sex blogger Taryn. On our podcast, Bex and I interviewed our friends Suz and Claire, and talked about conferences, Woodhull, and dominance.

• Orgasm stats: This month I had 27 orgasms, 7 of which (25.9%) were from partners. I’m surprised I still managed to have so many, despite terrible depression wracking me lately!

• Like I said, I went through a devastating break-up a few weeks ago, and while my heart is broken and life has felt very difficult this month, this experience has reminded me that I have lots of people in my corner and my friends are always there for me. I’m very, very lucky.

Femme stuff

• As per usual, I’m experimenting with various perfume samples lately. Though I’ve mostly been sticking with my perennial favorite, John Varvatos, this month I’ve also been enjoying the Tom of Finland fragrance from Etat Libre d’Orange. It’s supposed to be masculine but on me it’s just femmey, warm and comforting. Good stuff!

• My new hot pink Tarina Tarantino heart necklace is giving me life. It’s HUGE and VERY SPARKLY. God bless Tarina and her magpie proclivities!

• I am looooving my new “Submissive” T-shirt from Pen & Kink. I ordered one in the tri-blend material, so it’s suuuper soft and comfy – truly the ideal garment for a lazy babygirl to lounge around in!

Little things

Bex sending me a selfie of them and their Sir. My new Seven-Year PenThe Bold Type. Emotionally cathartic kink with a trusted partner. Doing a live Dildorks recording in front of a crowd at Woodhull! Readers of my blog coming up to me to tell me how much they love my work. Spanking Suz with a bible. Hanging with my blogger babes. Deep sleeps in big comfy hotel beds. Cadence making me a gin and tonic and gently domming me into finishing my work when I was practically too depressed to move. Watching Friends on Netflix with Max for hours on end. Being comforted/supported by my FWB, who then attempted to fuck the sads out of me. A random guy offering me a no-strings-attached footrub at a sex club. Max bringing me Haagen Dazs. Swimming while stoned. Journaling on public transit. Crimson Wave Comedy. Pinegrove’s wonderful album Cardinal. Improv crushes. Making out in an alley with someone who makes me howl with laughter.

Monthly Faves: Vibrations, Vibrato, & Varvatos

Woof. I had a lot of sex this month. Like, a lot. I have a new partner and he is an insatiable perv comme moi, so, y’know, lots and lots of fucking. I hope this trend continues all summer, because frankly, my vagina deserves it. Here are some of the things I enjoyed most in May…

Sex toys

• Full review coming soon: I am loooving my new-ish Swan Wand. Two rumbly motors in an ergonomically-shaped, hot pink beauty of a toy. Très bien!

• Like I told you on Monday, I’m really digging my Sportsheets under-the-bed restraints lately. Nothin’ quite like getting securely immobilized during sex at a moment’s notice. *swoon*

• My boyf rescued an old telephone table and we repurposed it as a spanking bench, obviously. I love the resourcefulness of kinksters.

Fantasy fodder

• Here’s some exciting news: it’s been almost two years since I first realized Daddy Dom/little girl dynamics turn me on, and now I’m dating someone who is into that dynamic too, and I am FEELING SOME WAYS about it. Let’s just say that the “fantasy fodder” column of my orgasm spreadsheet is even more rife with instances of “princess” and “little one” and “good girl” than usual lately.

• In exploring kink stuff with my new boyf, I’ve noticed that a lot of the kink activities I previously thought I didn’t like, I actually just didn’t like with previous partners. Many of the doms I’ve banged before have turned out to be assholes – or, in some cases, abusive assholes – which obviously colored my perception of the things we did together. With my new darlin’, there are some things I’ve always thought I’d hate forever, like being choked, facefucked, and slapped across the face, that actually feel fine (and even hot) because I’m doing them with someone I care about and trust. Kink is fascinating!

• As I’ve told you before, getting fisted is one of my major sexual goals. I’ve known for a long time that I wanted my First Fister to be a dominant person I feel emotionally connected to, who ideally has small hands, and I finally feel like that person has actually come along. This month, me and my beau went for coffee with my friend Taylor to talk fisting logistics (lofistics?!) since Taylor is a fisting expert of sorts. We learned a lot, and now I can’t stop thinking about my bossy boyfriend wearing a black nitrile glove, three knuckles deep inside me, telling me sternly to take a little more for him…

Sexcetera

• Some of my work elsewhere this month: I tried the teddy bear vibrator for Glamour (spoiler alert: I did not like it). I detailed the best and worst parts of being a sex toy reviewer for Daily Xtra. I wrote about realistic dildos, friendships with benefits, and iconic sex toys for Ignite, and powerful vibrators for Peepshow. I had some feelings about my favorite boy band and how they relate to pleasure under patriarchy. On our podcast, Bex and I discussed the porn festival, aftercaresexual astrology, and kissing, and we interviewed my mom.

• In May, I had 25 orgasms, an uncommonly high (for me) 64% of which were from a partner, with the other 36% being from masturbation. I wasn’t too keen on solo sex this month, in part because I’m so hyped on my new partner and in part because I’ve been intermittently depressed and have therefore lacked the libido and motivation to masturbate as often as I otherwise might.

Femme stuff

• I had so much sex this month that I didn’t spend much time wearing clothes, honestly. But MeUndies are still doin’ me right. They make a real good backdrop for spanking bruises.

• Gawd, I love Yo Sox. They have a brick-and-mortar shop here in Toronto the very sight of which fills me with glee. Ever wanted to adorn your feet with unicorns, hearts, or whales? I certainly fucking have. And now I can. Eee!

• I’ve been catching up on The Dry Down and, as always, it’s making me want to buy/try new perfume samples. Right now I’m really into dark, smoky, “masculine” scents with notes like sandalwood, balsam, and rum. (État Libre d’Orange’s “True Lust” and John Varvatos’ self-titled fragrance are two current faves.) I also like layering leather cologne over whatever I wear, for an extra kinky kick.

Little things

Nathan Stocker’s vibrato fingers and rock-star hair. The way my beau always smells like sandalwood and the scent lingers on my bed/hair/skin after he leaves. Taking friends lube-shopping. Being productivity-dommed. Cuddling with a chill-as-fuck cat. “Apparently I’m a genius!” Sunny park hangz with my darling. Talking about fisting while sipping mint tea in a crowded café. Snapbacks as a way of accessing my tomboy side. That time a barista gave me a spanking so thorough that he bruised his hand and told me he would think of me every time he tamped a shot of espresso until the bruise healed (hnnng). Receiving a “Still thinking about that BJ” text the morning after a hookup. Playing Scrabble with people who are better than me at Scrabble. Honey liqueur. Nutella donuts. Vegan mac and cheese. Tinder boys with good winks. “Dad Squad” jokes at the Victoria Day fireworks with Max. A punny dinner with porn pals. Vanilla cold brew. Good editors.

Monthly Faves: Gloryholes, Glass, & Giggly Girl Gangs

It feels ridiculous to talk about anything not geopolitical at the moment. But I still believe in goodness in the world, in the form of legal and financial supporters of the cause, brave protesters doing what’s right, or even something as comparatively mundane as good sex. If you need to tear your attention away from the news for a while and read about less pressing matters, like dildos and lipstick, I’m your girl. Let’s dive in and talk about what I loved most in January…

Sex toys

Bex bought me the best gift this month: a Standard Glass S-Curve dildo in my signature shade of turquoise. When they handed it to me, they said, “It’ll hit your A-spot,” but I wasn’t sure – the curve looked too extreme for that. But of course, they are a genius and were totally right. My fuckbuddy pounded me with the S-Curve within 24 hours of me receiving it, and he declared it was “like the Double Trouble on easy mode”: it hits my A-spot just as well but is much lighter, smaller, and easier to manoeuver. I’ll never doubt Bex again!

• I bought myself a kinky Christmas present: an 8-ball Billiard Banger from KinkMachineWorks. It’s soooo thuddy, almost like being punched. As always, I can’t recommend this li’l Etsy shop’s impact toys highly enough. (Look how pretty!!)

• I felt a particular appreciation for the We-Vibe Tango this month, both because I used it a lot (including for THREE ORGASMS during a hotel sex-date with my hardworkin’ FWB – swoon!) and because I’ve been selling plenty of them in my new job as a sex-shop salesgirl. It’s still the best, rumbliest rechargeable clit vibe on the market – and at only $80, it’s cheaper than a lot of comparable-but-less-good vibes out there.

Fantasy fodder

• I’ve had a thing for gloryhole porn on-and-off for years, and this month it came back with a vengeance. Right now I’m particularly enamored with “TheCarnivore,” who films himself sucking cocks in his home-built gloryhole shed in Florida. His deepthroating skills are a thing to behold!

• I’ve also been enjoying a fella named CumControl101 who makes videos of himself manually edging dudes til they’re whining and begging to come. Men’s pleasure sounds are one of my biggest turn-ons, so I like the ones who make a lot of noise

• An eccentric confession: sometimes, when I am high, I masturbate to makeup tutorials on YouTube. I am not jerking off over the prettiness of the ladies therein, in the way of that creep who probably wanks to your Facebook photos without your knowledge; there is, instead, some connection my high-brain makes between femme glee and carnal joy. When I’m just the right amount of intoxicated on just the right type of weed, my usually chaste excitement about glitter and lipstick can take on a saucy tone. Brains are strange, man.

Sexcetera

• I’ve been keeping a spreadsheet of all my orgasms thus far in 2017, like a fuckin’ nerd. It’s titled “Orgasm Registry” in my Google Drive, and yes, it is a separate document from my partnered-sex spreadsheet. It’s been interesting to track the ebbs and flows of my libido (predictably, it ebbs when I’m tired and overworked, and flows when I’m blazin’ on the regs), the toys I use most often (the Magic Wand Rechargeable, Double Trouble, and Tango), and how many orgasms I had in January (30!). But what interests me most is the “fantasy fodder” column – such a pure and true reflection of my innermost perviness. It sure is humbling to have to write down what you were thinking about right before orgasm!

• Some of my writing elsewhere this month: I wrote about the connection between promiscuity and empathy for the Establishment, and complained about mediocre men and femininity-diminishing anxiety on Medium. On our podcast, Bex and I talked about masturbation, social media flirting, shitty sex toy marketing, and being a publicly sexual person (that last one featured special guest Cooper S. Beckett, who was a dream!). As always, you can pledge to my Patreon for regular updates on what I’m up to.

Femme stuff

• I’ve been really into perfume lately, thanks in large part to the influence of The Dry Down and the ladies who write it. I read Tynan Sinks describe John Varvatos cologne as smelling like “if you spilled a chai latte into an old leather jacket,” so, obviously, I ordered a sample immediately. It’s supposedly a masculine scent, full of balsam, coriander, and vanilla, but it wears so beautifully on feminine little me. It makes me feel like a cupcake wearing a black leather ballgown to a kink soirée. I love it so much that when I lost my sample vial of it, I ordered another one immediately.

• Lipstick-wise, I’ve been oscillating steadily between Rouge d’Armani in “Lucky Red” (which I wrote about in November) and Sugarpill’s “Girl Crush.” A cool-toned red and a hot pink – how predictable pour moi! Sometimes I wish I were more adventurous in this realm, but hey, sometimes you just find what works for you and want to stick with it.

• A beauteous turquoise leather Coach tote (the “turnlock tote in crossgrain leather“) was on sale for half-price, so I snapped it up. I am in love: it’s roomy as hell, has secret pockets galore, and is the most brilliant, aggressively bright color. I brought it with me to New York as my carry-on and it comfortably fit my laptop, charger, journal, headphones, travel documents, makeup bag, wallet, glasses, and a book. Amaze.

Little things

Ringing in the new year with a bunch of sex-positive weirdos. Samantha giving us Alka-Seltzer tablets to take home after a rowdy New Year’s Eve party. Respecting and working with the natural rhythms of my mental health. Empathetic friends. My cozy new bedding and fluffy pillows. Good moisturizer. My mom bringing me Jamaican chickpea soup because wintertime makes me grumpy. The mental health mantra “No moment is unendurable.” Hitting 5,000 Twitter followers! My new phone wallpaper. Writing by candlelight. Shooting new headshots with Cadence, forever my favorite person to be photographed by. Good interviews with sweet sources over coffee. My new job at a sex shop! Giggly bralette-shoppin’ with Suz and Rosaline. Editing podcasts in cafés and train stations and hotel rooms. Recording Dildorks episodes with Brent and Kenton (they’ll be out over the next couple months!). Bex showing up to rescue me from an anxiety attack at a New York subway station, wearing a Batman onesie and a collar and carrying a bright yellow box of Kleenex. The Daily Mail writing about me (!). Excellent editors. My new pipe. When Bex and I tried not to burst out laughing while a waiter served me cacio e pepe from a giant block of cheese. Coffee Crisp bars. A boy telling me he can only wear mesh boxer-briefs for a couple hours at a time because they’re “very taxing on the sac.”

What sexy or sex-adjacent things did you enjoy this month, babes?