Content note: There’s some depressing stuff in here about climate change, fascism, etc.
February 7th
A Spiritual Practice for Quarantine
wake up, take your meds
stretch & pee & check your phone
stretch & sigh, ignore your phone
brew some coffee, clear some cobwebs
set some goals & test your brain
watch the news, turn off the news
feel grateful you’re not on the news
don some ruby lipstick no one will see
take butt selfies in bed
suck cock every lazy morning
scribble notes to future selves
let haters tire themselves out
slither into slim-cut sweatpants
comb your hair for no one
read a book for pleasure
drink a boozy revelation
squint your eyes until you see
a pale unfocused vision
of the You you want to be
April 19th
Life all feels so absurd when you’re living through a global pandemic and a fresh wave of fascism and the end of the world due to climate change. I really don’t know how we are supposed to deal with it. There’s not even a frame of reference, a touchpoint in human history we can point to and learn from where we idiot’ed ourselves out of being able to even inhabit this planet anymore. It’s all new and a lot of it is bad.
I think one of the only things you can do to cope with all this is to do what the existentialists did and accept the liberating but terrifying meaninglessness of it all. I can’t affect humanity’s problems on a scale that would be effective, so I may as well feel pleasure and create joy where possible. I don’t mean it’s okay to be selfishly hedonistic all the time. I mean that we’d go nuts if we never allowed ourselves to be selfishly hedonistic. We’d be squandering the best parts of the very world and civilization our anxieties are trying to save.
May 29th
Lately I keep looking at real estate listings of 2- and 3-bedroom houses and condos in Toronto and New York and dreaming of what it would be like to furnish and decorate my own office in my own home. There would be lots of framed photos and art. An altar featuring citrine, blue topaz, and perfumed incense. Big white bookshelves displaying books, old journals, striking sex toys, and a rainbow of vintage typewriters. A smallish piano and my ukuleles and guitar. A luxuriant daybed for lounging and naps. A big plush armchair for reading in. Stacks of empty notebooks waiting to be filled with thoughts and ideas. Organized drawers containing my entire sex toy collection. A sex toy charging station à la Piph. Sophisticated coasters for having drinks at my desk. An array of fine pens and pencils. Tons of natural light, plus several lamps for atmosphere. Ahh, bliss.
June 9th
I bought a secondhand digital piano yesterday. Been wanting to get back into songwriting. It has been about 3 years since I’ve written a song. It’s just so weird because in high school I wrote multiple songs per month. It no longer feels like a skill I can access. I try playing and singing improvisationally but everything sounds terrible and doesn’t flow out of me the way it used to.
I think if I asked younger-me for advice on this, she would advise me to spend more time just idly messing around on my instrument(s); inspiration can’t show up if you’re not there to greet it. But I can’t shake the feeling that I was connected to some divine source of musical ingenuity and I no longer have a stable connection to wherever that came from.
I guess part of the reason for this is that my life now is fairly settled and content – I am married to the love of my life and our relationship is stable and healthy, so the main sources of interpersonal angst and sadness I used to pull songwriting inspiration from are just absent. I guess this means I have to carve out new ways of being a songwriter, ways that don’t rely on romantic drama. Writing from fictional characters’ perspectives is often helpful for this, I’ve found.
July 7th
Things to remember when I hate myself and feel like a failure:
I will have had 2 books published by the time I turn 30.
I am happily married to the love of my life, who is perfect for me on every dimension I can imagine.
I live comfortably on the money I make as a self-employed person/freelancer in the sex media field. Dreamy.
My work means a lot to people and they tell me so nearly every day.
I am working through my traumas and flaws with a therapist, and I’m making good progress.
I have a cozy home that I love and have put a lot of effort into making it feel as comfortable as possible.
I achieve an amazing amount every single week for someone living with an invisible disability/chronic illness.
I have made a lot of art that I think is good, and I will make a lot more.
There is always more to learn, to see, to experience.
Every single thing in life could change in an instant so the only thing to do is appreciate it when you have it.
July 26th
I’m emotional tonight, for a couple reasons. Firstly, today 11 copies of my first book showed up in the mail, and I got to hold it, and read it, and sniff it, and take selfies with it… I am truly so fucking proud of myself, and the pride feels unusually tangible to me today. It’s a really good book and I think people are going to like it.
The second emotional thing that happened is I went for drinks with T___, who I met several years ago because they were friends with L___ when I was dating him – and they told me that basically they never really liked him that much. They felt he was “a sad man who sucked” and didn’t treat his partners very well. (Uh, can confirm.)
My mind is honestly kinda blown. All this time I had believed what L___ said, which was that the two of them were very good friends, maybe even best friends – and I had felt that L___ must have some essential goodness or coolness because T___ thought he was cool, but in reality all this time they’ve seen him the same way I saw him on my most self-righteous and self-possessed days: as a sad, selfish, confused and confusing dude who wasn’t a very good boyfriend at all.
He was a person who frequently represented himself as perpetually right and good, as if his way of doing relationships was the best way or the only good way, and as if I was in the wrong for ever taking issue with anything he did. He was an extraordinarily bad boyfriend to me but framed himself as a generous and tolerant caretaker and protector.
Our relationship was this fraught mirage, always seeming like it had the potential to be so good and healthy and satisfying but never actually allowing that reality to materialize. He paid lip service daily to the kind of boyfriend he wanted to be, and wasn’t. He was a complete and total fuckboy, who would’ve been appalled to hear himself referred to as such. The only reason I stayed with him after he seriously hurt my feelings was that I believed deeply that he was desirable and special and “a catch” and that I was incredibly lucky to be with someone like him. That’s all it was. I mean, yeah, NRE makes idiots of us all, but I really think most of my poor decision-making in that relationship was directly related to me 1) assuming his inherent worth because he was a man who expressed an interest in me, and 2) thinking so poorly of myself that I couldn’t see how valuable and desirable I myself was. I didn’t know I deserved better, or that I was allowed to expect better, but I did and I was.
It’s time for the most self-indulgent instalment of this series: the one where I show you my fave selfies of the year and tell you about why they were meaningful to me! Let’s jump in…
Content note: There will be nudity in this post! You’ve been warned!
January 9
I’ve had such a hard time staying in touch with my femmeness during the pandemic. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve waded more deeply into fancy loungewear than I ever had before, I’ve bought myself cute slippers and robes and chemises, I’ve attempted to make “hanging out at home day after day” into something glamorous and aesthetically pleasing… but that stuff can only go so far when you’re depressed about not being able to go out, see people, and do things in the world.
On this night, my partner and I got dressed up to sit at home on the couch watching a livestream of Bawdy Storytelling. A friend of mine was telling a story that night and we wanted to be there to support him (virtually, from afar). Bawdy offers a thing in their virtual shows where you can pay extra to be an “exhibitionist” or a “voyeur,” meaning that your camera can be on during the show so other people can see your look, and/or that you can see other audience members (who’ve consented to it) throughout the show. It’s a really fun way of motivating audience members to dress how they would if they were going to an actual Bawdy show – and to make the flirty personal connections that often at least partially motivate such aesthetic choices.
It felt good to put on lipstick and lashes and a sparkly dress, even if it was “only” to watch an online show. I’m glad to have had opportunities this year to occasionally cosplay like we’re in the Before Times.
February 14
Valentine’s Day selfies often end up making their way into this post, because I love to dress cute for Valentine’s Day. It’s one of the few days of the year when I can really “get away with” wearing pink, red, and a whole lotta hearts!
Matt and I usually go out for a fancy romantic dinner on this day, but we decided to do a COVID-friendly version of that this year and ordered delivery from the steakhouse BLT Prime. We sat down at their little dining room table in our pink finery and ate an excellent meal, and it was almost like being at an actual restaurant.
There are always ways to celebrate special occasions even if your options are limited, and I found that dressing up was a major way I celebrated holidays and accomplishments this year. Even in an era where my most frequent and robust socialization happens via Twitter and Discord, there are still times worth dressing up for – and eating a steak with my sweetie in celebration of our love was one of those times.
Side note: Check out that grin. They really do make me this happy. 🥰
April 26
When Matt received the sex doll they were supposed to review for my site, we couldn’t stop laughing about how tiny she was. Like, yeah, we knew she wasn’t full-sized, but I don’t think either of us really fully understood just how small she would be until we took her out of her box.
I immediately had a very specific vision for the photo I wanted to take to go along with the review. It needed to convey what we had realized in that moment of opening her up: that she was hilariously, almost disturbingly petite.
But also, having done a fair bit of writing on sex dolls and sex robots and the like, I’m kinda fascinated by the “uncanny valley” and the differences between human sexiness and slick technologically-engineered sexiness. I wanted this photo to convey that tension as well: my tattooed and cellulite-dimpled thighs next to her tiny flat-planed ones, my gravity-affected boobs and her perfectly round ones, my skeptical expression and her total lack of human expressiveness. It’s an odd photo and I like it more every time I look at it.
April 30
Upon returning home to Toronto in April after a 7-month stay in New York, I had to go on a long and (for my chronically ill body) arduous journey. I had to take a cab to the airport, go through security, get on the plane, fly, get off the plane, pick up my suitcase, drag it onto a link train, ride the train to my quarantine hotel, check into the hotel, stay there for 3 days, and then trek to my parents’ house to complete the remainder of my quarantine. It was pretty exhausting.
I took this photo, sleep-deprived and mildly manic with anxiety, on the link train between the airport and my hotel, by which point I’d been traveling for something like 7 hours. I was surprised to get a car to myself on the train, and wanted to let Matt know I was doing okay but barely had the energy or brainspace to formulate a coherent message. So instead, I lifted up my shirt, snapped a surreptitious public nude, and sent that.
The wildness in my eyes makes me laugh, because I was really on a different planet mentally at that moment than I am in normal everyday life. I was just So Over It, and you can tell. This isn’t really a sexy nude. It isn’t really a funny one either. It’s just… weird. But I like that about it.
May 16
Both of my vaccine shots happened somewhat suddenly and unexpectedly – I’d hear about a pop-up vaccination clinic way up in North York or way out in Scarborough, do a little scoping online to see if it was for real, and then hop on the subway or in an Uber and get my ass there ASAP. It was quite a rush, like the public-health equivalent of managing to score tickets to your fave band’s big arena show just moments before it sells out.
Upon arriving back home after my first shot, I was glowing with happiness from having been able to get this thing I’d been (like most other people at that time) desperately and impatiently hoping and wishing for. So I decided to take a nude, of course.
This photo is such a 2020/2021 mood. I love that about it. In no other years so far in my lifetime would it make sense, let alone be hot, to take a lewd selfie with a band-aid slapped onto your arm like a sexy accessory. And yet, this is probably one of the most sensual photos I took all year, if just because of what it portends. After all, wouldn’t you rather kiss someone who’s got their shot than someone who hasn’t yet?
August 26
Another sexy one! Damn, there are a lot of those this year.
I had a bunch of ideas for photos I wanted to take when copies of my book first arrived on my doorstep. I wanted to line them up in flat-lays with whips and chains, hold them between my legs like a naughty secret, surround myself with them like I was drowning in my own words. But also, I wanted to put one on my ass.
Something I like about this photo is that I would have no idea how to interpret it if you showed it to me-from-10-years-ago. I wouldn’t immediately clock this ass as my own, because I didn’t have those distinctive tattoos back then, and I certainly wouldn’t know how to parse the sight of my own name on a beautiful book like this.
In many ways, this is a photo of the version of me I’ve manifested into existence over the years, the me who I’ve fought to become. A good girl, an inked-up queer femme, a freelance writer lounging half-nude at home, a published author who doesn’t have to care if people online have seen her butt or not. It’s essentially a self-portrait of some of my favorite things about myself and my life.
Plus it’s made a great promo shot for the book. I mean, if you saw this on a billboard or something, wouldn’t you be curious?!
October 24
Because we’re romantics, Matt and I celebrated the one-year anniversary of them proposing to me by returning to the place where it happened, the High Line park.
We walked the entire length of the park twice, first one way and then the other, stopping in various spots where we’d had romantic moments on previous visits: places where we kissed, where we held hands, where we laughed at odd things we’d overheard other people saying.
But the most meaningful spot in the whole High Line for us is the picturesque lookout where Matt got on one knee and asked me to marry them. They’d chosen it specifically, over any other place in the park, because it was so beautiful. So we returned there and took a selfie to document the moment, and our joy.
I love them so much and I’m still so glad I said yes to them that evening in the park, late in 2020. I think our smiles say it all.
At time of writing, I’ve read 44 books this year – yay! Reading has given me so much pleasure during the pandemic, with its ability to sweep me away into worlds that aren’t wracked by quick-spreading illness and quicker-spreading fascism. (Well, sometimes I do read books where those things are happening, but not typically ones set in our world.) It’s been a much-needed respite from the grind of life.
Here are 8 of the books I loved best this year. You can check out the full list of books I read in 2021 here. Would love to hear from you in the comments if you’ve read any of these, or if you have others to recommend!
She decides for the ten thousandth time that heterosexual cis people, while willfully ignoring it, have staked their whole sexuality on a bet that each other’s genders are real. If only cis heterosexuals would realize that, like trans women, the activity in which they are indulging is a big self-pleasuring lie that has little to do with their actual personhood, they’d be free to indulge in a whole new flexible suite of hot ways to lie to each other.
This book absolutely exploded this year. It became a national bestseller. The New York Times and Entertainment Weekly called it one of the best books of the year. It got longlisted for the Women’s Prize (to the chagrin of transphobic bigots). And the praise is well-deserved, if you ask me.
Trans writer Torrey Peters’ debut novel is a witty, dishy tale of three people with vastly different relationships to womanhood, who ultimately discover their similarities and find some common ground. Reese is a brassy, world-hardened trans woman who desperately yearns to be a mother; Reese’s morose ex Ames was once a trans woman, but has since detransitioned for reasons that become clear later in the book; and Katrina is a no-nonsense cis woman who Ames accidentally gets pregnant, which is the catalyst that kickstarts the events of the story.
It’s a blazingly funny novel about womanhood, motherhood, the absurdity of gender, the mutability of family, and so much more. I loved it.
I have come to think of my experiences with masochism as a kind of biohacking: a way to use the electrochemistry of my body in a deliberate way for the purpose of curating a specific experience. Something about my response to pain is different, be it inborn or learned (or both, I suspect). It’s something that allows me to craft a little pocket of joy for myself, an engineered release, be it through running a few miles uphill, getting a tattoo, or getting slapped in the face for fun until I cry.
I’ve read a fair number of books that explore sadomasochism through various sexual and romantic lenses, but Hurts So Good is a different kind of book. It investigates a much broader range of masochisms, from kinksters getting whipped in dungeons, to ultramarathon runners exhausting their bodies for the fun of it, to competitive hot pepper eaters scorching their mouths to get an endorphin rush. This is a book about “pain on purpose,” in all the various ways humans seek it out.
I’ve been more and more interested in reading about pain since it became an everyday part of my life due to fibromyalgia, and there’s a fair bit of nerdy pain science in here that scratched that itch for me. But it’s also so much deeper than just brain imaging and neurotransmitters: Cowart examines the psychological, social, and even spiritual reasons that humans have pursued pain through the ages. It’s a fascinating read, whether sadomasochism is a part of your sex life or just a topic you find intriguing.
Historically, what heterosexuality “is” has been a synonym for “sexually normal.” Early in the history of the term, it was even used interchangeably with the term “normal-sexual.” And there, as they say, is the rub. “Normal” is not a mode of eternal truth; it’s a way to describe commonness and conformity with expectations. But what is most common and expected, in terms of our sexual lives or any other aspect of the human condition, does not always remain the same. Sexual expectations and behaviors, like all other social expectations and behaviors, change over time.
It’s always good to re-examine the things you think you know, to figure out whether they are actually true. More often than not, you’ll realize you’ve gotten it at least partially wrong all along.
Astute scholar Hanne Blank examines heterosexuality that way in her excellent book Straight. Our current society takes for granted that straightness has always existed, because it is the natural order of the species and a procreative imperative, blah blah blah – but has straightness always existed? Blank argues, quite convincingly, that it is a relatively new construct we created for ourselves, and that sexuality is now and has always been much more fluid and vague than the strict category of “heterosexual” would lead us to believe.
If you’re scoffing as you read this (“How could that possibly be true?! Straightness is real! Science says so!”) then I think you are the type of person who mosts needs to read this book. It is my view that some of our most significant growth as humans happens when we’re able to soften our rigidities, blur the boundaries we’ve drawn, and apply a lens of nuance to the world – and this book is a challenge to do exactly that.
I wanted to protect you, but I’m starting to think that the best thing you can do for people is teach them how to protect themselves. Every girl needs to be at least a little dangerous.
Kai Cheng Thom is a transcendently brilliant writer, whose work I first read in her advice column for Xtra. This book is a bit of a departure from her typical style: it’s a surrealist novel and a “biomythography” of Thom’s life, meaning that it draws elements from her own life story but is vastly more magical and absurd.
It’s the tale of a young trans girl coming out, moving across the country, finding community, and fighting back against the transphobic powers that be. It has a lot to say about how we grow and change as people, the transformative power of good friendships, and the beauty of stepping into your true self.
What makes casual sex casual? What makes sex sex? It’s a fraught subject, raising issues of morality, pleasure, risk, trauma, and choice. My job is not to convince you one way or another, but rather to give you good information to use to make up your own mind. I promise I won’t shame you for your choices, and I hope you don’t shame other people for theirs.
Gift this book to any young person you know who is interested in, or is pursuing, casual sex for the first time. Gift it to your recently divorced friend who hasn’t dated since the pre-Tinder era. Gift it to anyone whose relationship to casual sex seems tricky, confused, or painful. I really think it’ll help.
Everything that sex educator Allison Moon writes is delightful, but this book is really indispensable. It’s a guide to just about everything you need to know to have satisfying and healthy casual sex, from figuring out what you want, to finding dates, to setting boundaries, to navigating consent, to dealing with tricky feelings that come up. It’s a blueprint for the best sex of your life, whether casual or not.
I deeply wish I’d had this book when I was 22; I could have spared myself a lot of bad sex and broken hearts. But at least it’s out in the world now, and can help a whole new generation of sex-positive cuties.
The first time August met Jane, she fell in love with her for a few minutes, and then stepped off the train. That’s the way it happens on the subway—you lock eyes with someone, you imagine a life from one stop to the next, and you go back to your day as if the person you loved in between doesn’t exist anywhere but on that train. As if they never could be anywhere else.
Wanna read a quirky butch/femme romance novel that takes place primarily on a subway train, weaves in true queer history, features time travel as a prominent plot point, depicts rich and realistic queer friendships, and contains countless LOL-worthy jokes? This is the one.
I got somewhat obsessed with Casey McQuiston’s writing this year, devouring this novel and their other one, and starting to read an advance copy of their next one (being a member of the press has its perks sometimes!). Their work is sharp, full of heart, and shot through with a deep reverence for queerness and queer communities. I laughed and cried my way through this novel and almost wish I could erase it from my memory just so I could experience it for the first time again. It’s a beautiful love story for the ages.
I describe mine as work for fat justice. Body positivity has shown me that our work for liberation must explicitly name fatness as its battleground—because when we don’t, each of us are likely to fall back on our deep-seated, faulty cultural beliefs about fatness and fat people, claiming to stand for “all bodies” while we implicitly and explicitly exclude the fattest among us. I yearn for more than neutrality, acceptance, and tolerance—all of which strike me as meek pleas to simply stop harming us, rather than asking for help in healing that harm or requesting that each of us unearth and examine our existing biases against fat people.
As a massive fan of Aubrey Gordon’s podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase, I don’t know why it took me so long to get around to reading her book, but I’m very glad I finally did. It’s a thorough skewering of our society’s rampant anti-fat bias and all the various ways it manifests. It’s compelling and impeccably well-researched, and it should be a required text for anyone studying to become a doctor, therapist, social worker, or policymaker.
Fatphobia and diet culture are horrendously potent forces in our world right now, affecting how fat people are treated on both macro and micro levels every day. What this book points out, using evidence collected from a staggering amount of different reputable sources, is that anti-fat bias is largely predicated on the false notion that significant, sustained weight loss is possible for the majority of people. In reality, being fat isn’t all that different from being tall, in terms of how genetics create that condition and what can be done about it – but the discrimination and harassment fat people face is obviously far worse. If you’ve ever fat-shamed anyone for any reason, you should read this. If you’ve ever stayed silent while someone else was being fat-shamed in your presence, you should read this. If you’re feeling resistant to reading this because you disagree with its argument, you should read this.
It’s 2021. There’s no excuse whatsoever for being a bigot anymore, and that includes being a fatphobic bigot.
For almost a decade I’ve given myself over to someone who doesn’t dignify me who acts like he’s the prize and I’m the lucky recipient. No motherfucker I’m the prize. Always have been, always will be. Somehow I forgot that. Or I never knew that. How could I? Got so wrapped in you so wrapped up in your presentation. That I forgot myself because when someone presents themselves as a prize you receive them as one.
I was lucky enough to see this play twice on Broadway, and also decided to read the script so I could absorb the words more deeply. It is a truly unique piece of theatre.
At the centre of this story is “race play,” an edgy and controversial kink in which racial differences and/or tropes are eroticized. I first learned about this style of play from Mollena Williams-Haas, a submissive Black woman who identifies as a slave in her D/s dynamic with her partner. (She has a new podcast, by the way – it’s amazing.)
Accomplished playwright Jeremy O. Harris (who also produced the terrific virtual theatre put on by Fake Friends during the pandemic) has weaved a story wherein race play becomes an element of a radical new therapy, aimed at helping the Black partners in interracial relationships experience more comfort, pleasure, and safety with their non-Black partners. It’s a raw exploration of race, class, kink, consent, privilege, power, and so much more. In my mind, the primary message of this play is that self-awareness, and awareness of one’s ancestral history, is crucial if we are to move through the world in ethical and progressive ways. This is a deliberately challenging play – the stage directions on the opening pages counsel the director and performers to avoid any attempt to make the audience feel more comfortable with what they are seeing – and it feels very needed at this time in history. I very much look forward to seeing whatever Jeremy O. Harris does next.
I was sent this toy by the good folks at SheVibe as part of my research for an article I wrote for them on dildo materials other than silicone. In perusing their site, I realized that I’d tried almost all of these materials – glass, metal, ceramic – but had yet to try one of these crystal dildos, which are beloved by the Goop crowd, among others. This one is made of rose quartz, which is believed (by people who believe in such things) to help cultivate self-love and self-compassion, something I could definitely use some help with from time to time.
To my surprise, I ended up really enjoying this toy. The smooth shape of it makes it feel luxurious and gentle when well-lubed, even if I’m not super turned on yet. The slim end can nudge my A-spot on every thrust. The girth is satisfying but not overpowering. And the cool, smooth feeling of the rose quartz is soothing and calming, as you would hope a dildo oriented toward spiritual self-love would be.
There’s some debate in the sex toy community about whether crystal dildos are actually any good (it has been posited that they are porous and also bad for the environment). I don’t know enough about the material and its harvesting process to make a fair assessment of that, but I know I haven’t had any vaginal issues from using my Chakrubs toy. It’s definitely not something I reach for every week or even every month, but when I’m craving a woo-woo experience that’s focused on self-adoration, this is the toy for the job.
I had heard about Lovense for years because of their toys’ proliferation in the webcam performer community, but this year I finally got to try some for myself, as research for various articles on long-distance toys.
The Max 2 is their vibrating stroker, and it does some wild stuff. It pairs a textured sleeve with powerful vibrations, and on top of that, it can also mimic vaginal contractions by rhythmically squeezing your dick while it’s in there.
Best of all, it can be used with Lovense’s robust and reliable Bluetooth technology, so I can control a long-distance partner’s pleasure from far away. My spouse and I used this toy a lot this year while we were separated by distance, but also sometimes when we weren’t, because the interface on Lovense’s app allows me to stroke their cock the way I want to without actually using my hands – something I appreciate as a person who deals with pain and strength issues in my hands at times.
My partner often has super intense orgasms with this toy. We’ve found the Max 2 particularly fun to use as part of chastity play – it’s a wonderful way to give them the release they’ve earned after a week or more in chastity. But it’s also just a fantastic stroker for day-to-day usage. Well done, Lovense!
As I noted in my review, the Balldo really surprised me. I mean, it’s a silicone apparatus that slips over your balls and turns them into a dildo you can fuck someone with. How good could it really be?
Pretty good, it turns out. And certainly unique. While getting it on is a struggle, and it’s prone to slipping out once you actually get it into somebody, it works so well for us when it’s working. My partner’s able to achieve the “ballgasms” promised by the toy, and I’m able to enjoy the utter weirdness of the whole situation, alongside the hotness of seeing/hearing/feeling my partner experiencing a whole new type of pleasure.
If you’re dating/fucking someone who is open to adventure and has a good sense of humor, I think this could be a good gift for them. Or at least a gift they won’t soon forget.
This is a newer acquisition for me, and I’m loving it so far. There just aren’t that many companies out there making body-safe wooden sex toys (NobEssence is the most notable one), so I’m always glad to see new makers popping up on the scene.
I picked this toy over another Dee Lee Doo toy (the G-spot-focused Habu) because I thought it’d be able to hit my A-spot, and I was right. The length and shape of this toy are absolutely perfect for hitting that spot, whether I’m handling it myself or giving control over to a partner.
I like that wood is such a lightweight material, because it’s still easy for me to manipulate when I’m having a flare-up of pain or fatigue. It’s also hard without being overwhelmingly hard like metal and glass can be, making it an especially good pick for hitting a spot that simultaneously craves firm pressure and needs some gentleness. I hope to see more from this company in the new year!
My partner bought me this gorgeous leather strap as a gift after we saw spanking aficionado Princess Kelley May rave about it in a video. I don’t think I’d ever been spanked with a strap before, and it’s been wonderful getting to know that new sensation!
This is such a stunning product, “hand-crafted from beginning to end” by expert leatherworkers. I love the way it feels, both in my hand and on my ass.
As Kelley May points out in the video linked above, this strap is initially somewhat firm and inflexible but will soften with use. Right now, mine is still in the firm stage, so it feels more like a leather paddle – stingy with a side of thud. I’m looking forward to feeling what it feels like when it’s softened up a bit.
Another Lovense toy?! Yep, they really are that good.
This is another one that gets used exclusively on my partner and not on me – but I love using it on them! It’s a vibrating butt plug with two motors: one for the prostate and one for the perineum. Like the Max 2 above, it can be controlled from a distance using Lovense’s excellent app. Notably, you can control each of the motors separately, which makes it great for (as its name would suggest) edging.
This one is tons of fun to use when my partner is in chastity, because I can give them prostate orgasms even while their cock is in a chastity cage, and even when I’m 500 miles away. Truly amazing.
What, you thought I wasn’t gonna include the dildo I designed on this list?! Not a chance.
Obviously I love the Easy A because it was designed to meet my needs, as someone who adores deep penetration and also has hand strength issues that benefit from ergonomic sex toy bases. But I really think a lot of people would like this toy. The squishiness of the triple-density silicone is delightful, the bright blue color is swoonworthy, and the shape! Oh, the shape! It’s just exactly what I want an A-spot toy to be shaped like.
I remember the jubilation I felt when I discovered that the deep spot that reliably made me come had a name – and, more importantly, that there were sex toys out there (albeit not very many of them) that could target it efficiently and pleasurably. I’m so glad to have partnered with the folks at the Pleasure Tailor to create an addition to the scant-but-growing selection of A-spot toys on the market!
I get excited every time We-Vibe comes out with a new product, because they are truly one of the best companies in this industry right now. Their toys are well-made, aesthetically pleasing, and (best and most importantly of all) have legendarily good motors.
I was especially excited that they decided to update their classic bullet vibe, the Tango, of which I’d been a long-time fan. This new version, the Tango X, is a massive improvement. It has more speeds, easier charging, a travel lock, a silicone finger grip, and just overall feels like a nicer, better toy than the original Tango.
Since it’s pleasantly rumbly and relatively affordable for a rechargeable vibe of its caliber, this is one of my top recommendations for beginners who are curious about vibrators but don’t know where to start. If you like clitoral/external stimulation, you’d probably like this toy. I certainly do!
When I first received this toy, I did not expect that it would end up becoming one of my favorite toys of the year, and possibly my favorite pressure-wave toy of all time. Lelo is a company known for doing shocking things, often in a bad way – but this toy shocked me in a very good way.
As far as oral sex simulators go, this is the only one I’ve found that encases not just the tip of my clit but also my entire clitoral shaft, an oft-ignored part of clitoral anatomy. It’s like the difference between a tongue swirling around the head of a dick and a full-on deepthroat blowjob. (For that reason, it’s also potentially great for trans men and other transmasculine folks, aside from the twee/feminine-leaning color scheme.)
This toy sets itself apart from other pressure-wave products with its soft aesthetic and thoughtful design (especially those flat “lips,” which help the toy create a good seal around my clit). It’s elegant and well-made. It’s waterproof, so I can take it in the tub for a relaxing wank, featuring oral sex fantasies galore. It’s the one pressure-wave toy I would take with me on a desert island, if for some reason I had to do that. It’s just really damn good and I’m glad I own one.
What sex toys did you love most this year?
P.S.: Thanks for buying through my affiliate links! When you do so, I get a small commission at no extra cost to you. It’s basically like tipping me for providing such excellent recommendations 😉
Music was, as ever, a huge part of my life this year – and, as ever, I’m gathering 10 of my favorite songs into a blog post here, and writing little essays about how they made me feel as I listened to them on repeat all year long.
Originally this list was titled “10 Perfect Sex Songs,” but this year I’ve changed it to simply “10 Perfect Songs,” because the way I feel about music is just so much bigger than its applications for sex. But plenty of these are very, very sexy nonetheless.
The best way to read this post is to hit “play” on the embedded player above each song before you read about it, so you can get a sense for the vibe of the track while you read. (Trust me, these songs are gooooood.)
As always, I’ve collected these songs, along with all the previous years’ selections, into a Spotify playlist which you are welcome to check out. I hope you enjoy this year’s picks!
Don’t want to share you with the stars in the night / I only want you to only want me / Now, then and forever / Even jealous of the sun in your eyes / I want you looking at me, only me / I want all your attention
When I got my very first cellphone at age 13 or so – a petite silver Audiovox flip phone – one of the first things I did with it was figure out how to create custom ringtones. I remember spending hours after school painstakingly editing music files into ringtone-friendly lengths and formats, so that familiarly bright musical stings could punctuate my days. One of the very first songs I set as my ringtone was this one.
I’d been enamored with Daniel and his music for quite some time, but particularly with this song. At that age, it struck me as one of the most romantic things I’d ever heard: the narrator of the song (or, in poetry parlance, the “speaker”) is beseeching his partner/crush to let everything else in her life fall by the wayside so as to focus her entire attention on him. This spoke to me deeply at that age; I was struggling with the same desperate adolescent longing to be someone’s central focus in a romantic way, particularly since boys were not exactly flocking to date me, with my blue-bracketed braces, zitty skin, and total lack of self-confidence. I dreamed of someone being as obsessed with me one day as Bedingfield seems to be with his mystery lady in this song.
That said, like many things I enjoyed at age 13, this one barely holds up. To a modern, progressive ear, it lands as selfish, whiny, manipulative, possessive, even abusive – but under the veneer of sexy sentimentality and melodious romance. I still think it’s hot and sweet in its own way, but only when I’m able to envision it as depicting a consensual kinky relationship, rather than real-life scary obsessiveness. Love can make us want to behave in inappropriate ways at times, but that doesn’t mean we have to let those impulses move beyond the realm of thought and into the land of reality.
I’m getting hot at just the thought of what I’d do to you / ‘Cause in my head, I’m in your bed and getting through to you / They made the internet for nights like these / I love you, baby; send a picture of your tits, please
I didn’t know what to expect when my spouse and I loaded up Bo Burnham’s then-brand-new special, Inside, on Netflix and pressed play. Bo is traditionally the king of snarky silliness in song form, as his previous specials can attest, and I figured this would be more of the same. But Inside is so much more than that, as I wrote when I called it a masterpiece on this very blog.
As you know if you’ve seen it, the first half of Inside is rife with classic Bo goofiness that nonetheless hints constantly at the depressed, anxious mess beneath the surface, which we get to experience more directly in the darker, more existential second half. One of the first-act bangers is “Sexting,” a song that makes me scream with laughter every time I watch the video. In his razor-sharp way, Bo lampoons staples of millennials’ textual intercourse, like communicating in emojis (“you send me a peach / I send a carrot back / you send a Ferris wheel / that’s pretty abstract”), wanting nudes from a partner while being too insecure to send any oneself (“you send the pic and say it’s now my turn / Jesus fucking Christ, I guess I never learn”), and worrying about whether the asynchronous medium is breeding misunderstandings (it usually is).
However, then, as only Bo could do, he pivots easily from texty sexytimes into the crushing loneliness that can set in when the technology fails you, or when digital sex feels too starkly different from in-person sex to generate a meaningful oxytocin high, or when you put your phone down and wipe up the cum, only to notice with shocking intensity just how alone you actually are. “Another night on my own / stuck in my home / sitting alone / one hand on my dick and one hand on my phone,” Burnham laments, and to that, all I can say is: been there, Bo. Been there.
No, I’m not a snack at all / Look, baby, I’m the whole damn meal
I was late to the party with regards to Lizzo, because I just don’t listen to that much mainstream/top-40 music these days, but I’m so glad I finally checked her out. It must have been the third or fourth time I heard this song, and found myself physically compelled to dance, that I finally whipped out my phone to figure out what the hell I was listening to.
It’s since become my favorite medicine for low-energy days, for bad-body-image days, for everything-is-terrible days. I’ll put it on, start moving my body, and feel the greyness start to lift. In particular, I think it’s the all-time best song for dancing to while nude in front of a mirror; every time I do this, it feels like someone just injected me with liquid confidence. Sincerely, Lizzo, thank you for the gift that is this song.
My enjoyment of sex, or indeed my very ability to be mentally present during sex, can be strongly affected by my body image du jour. Intrusive thoughts about my thighs and ass and belly frequently interrupt otherwise sexy interludes, frustrating me and worrying my partners. Listening to this song feels like saying a prayer for body-positivity, accepting (and adoring) the things I cannot change, embracing all the parts of me because they’re me and thus inherently worthy. It’s worth putting on every sex playlist I make from here on out, if just because hearing even its opening chords makes my whole body relax, like it finally knows it’s beautiful.
Life after you / Life overdue / My girl, you know that I had dreamed of you
What a lot of the songs on this year’s list have in common is that they seem to send a shot of dopamine directly to my brain. This one is no different.
Violents is a project by my all-time favorite singer/songwriter, Jeremy Larson. Normally he writes songs and a smooth-voiced collaborator sings them, but the EP this song is from, June, is about being a new adoptive father and all the feelings associated with that, so it made sense for him to sing this one himself. And it’s stunning.
“After You” is an open-hearted, revelatory, no-holds-barred love song for Jeremy’s first daughter. It marks a clear delineation between life before her and life after her. I have thought a lot about parenthood this year – mostly because I am reaching the age at which people start insisting women think about this topic, as if it would be a crime if we chose to stay childless – and, while I’m not at all convinced I ever want kids, pieces of art like this song make me wonder if I’d be missing out.
It’s not enough / Keeping up / When my chin is dripping with you / One hell of a view / Hopefully, I can make these legs move if I try
I don’t know what this song is about, but I know that when I first heard Nathan of Brotherkenzie sing these particular lyrics, I blushed. If indeed this section is about cunnilingus, which I believe it is, then it’s one of the gentlest, most anti-bravado and anti-machismo references to cunnilingus I’ve ever heard in a song. In context it sounds gentle, slow, gradual, sweet. The lyrics signal genuine enjoyment of the act and genuine interest in the pleasure it can produce. It’s just… nice.
This isn’t at all a conventional pick for a “sexy song,” and yet there’s something about it that feels to me like slow, familiar sex with someone who knows your body. The dependable rhythm of it. The prodding, plodding sweetness. The way your favorite face fills with rapture as it peers up at you from between your legs. One hell of a view.
I don’t know how to pay for therapy / I imagine if I did, I’d have some clarity / I don’t know how to weather ignorance / Makes me wanna drink wine and eat some cigarettes
I don’t know how to even convey how much Ben Hopkins’s music meant to me this year. But this is a song about not knowing how to do things, so maybe that’s okay.
There’s a certain freneticism to my interactions with other millennials in recent years, a constant low hum of existential anxiety and manic dread. You can’t ask a clued-in millennial a question about their future, or the future of humanity, without them going into a bit of a tailspin.
This is gonna sound douchey but the current state of the world makes me really grateful I got to take some classes on existential philosophy in university, because I don’t know how I would make sense of our current world without existentialist thought to fall back on. One of the biggest revelations I picked up from those classes was this: When the existentialists realized there was probably no God, no “true path” for any of them, no “meaning of life,” initially they were distraught – but then, after a “dark night of the soul,” often there would come a point when the lack of any inherent meaning began to feel less like a burden and more like freedom. The freedom to create your own meaning, your own path, your own purpose.
So much of Ben Hopkins’s music, but especially this song, makes me feel that way. It’s music that commiserates with the listener about the pointlessness and absurdity of [gestures broadly] all this, but at the same time, finds some raucous joy and connection in all that madness. Ben and their collaborator Tsebiyah shout back and forth at one another in this song about all the things they don’t know how to do, and then come together in the chorus to chant, “I don’t know what I’m doing / I don’t know if it’s right / I don’t know what I’m doing / I don’t know if it’s right,” like a tragic, silly, sad, excited, terrified, brave millennial mantra.
Something inside us / Knows there’s nothing guaranteed / Girl, I don’t need you / To tell me that you’ll never leave / When we’ve done all that we could / To turn darkness into light, turn evil to good / Even when we try so hard / For that perfect kind of love / It could all fall apart
I’ve loved watching John Legend’s evolution as an artist over the past several years. A lot of his early music made him sound like a bit of a cad, even if those songs were fictional (I’m not sure if they were or not); he seemed to churn out endless songs about cheating on a partner, wanting to cheat on a partner, thinking about cheating on a partner, avoiding (or giving in to) the temptation to cheat on a partner, etc. But those albums all came out when he was in his 20s; modern-day John Legend is a mature man with a big heart and a beautiful way with words, and his songs land just as sexy for me now as they always have, but much more romantic.
“Love Me Now” is a type of love song I’ve never heard before, a love song arising from non-toxic masculinity and compassionate realism. It acknowledges the fact that even relationships we think will last forever might not, and that life goes on after those relationships end. Most notably, it states: “I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone, so I’m gonna love you now, like it’s all I have.”
You could interpret this to mean that John doesn’t want anyone else to kiss his lady-love when and if he’s out of her life, but I have a different read on it. To me, it sounds like he wants her to always have someone to kiss, because he wants her to be happy. But he knows he can’t guarantee that, so he’s going to do his best to make up for that future uncertainty in the present. This reminds me of every partner of mine who’s taken non-monogamy as an invitation to love me harder, not a challenge to love me “better than” my other partner(s). We all deserve someone in our life who wants nothing but happiness for us. We all deserve a partner who wonders, with hope and in earnest, who’s gonna kiss us when they’re gone.
You make me pace / Make me chase / Make my heart race / I dig you when you ditch me cold / ‘Cause I’m a sheep / I’m a creep / And I’m losing sleep / No, I don’t know what’s right for you, baby / Wild babe / I just wanna be your prey
Cruisr has showed up on this list previously for their up-tempo kinky bop “Kidnap Me,” and I still listen to that one on a regular basis. But “Wild Babe” may have eclipsed it as my fave Cruisr tune, simply because it makes me want to be the wild babe it eponymizes. And when I dance to it, I feel like I’m becoming her.
To me, this is a song about that sunny feeling when a new crush bursts into your life and is instantly all you can think about. That feeling was in short supply for many of us during the pandemic; this song feels like it’d be the right thing to listen to on the walk to your first post-COVID date with your first post-COVID crush, heart pounding in rhythm with the drums.
At the end of the day / Would you do what it takes? / If I fall, am I safe? / Validation hit different when you don’t gotta ask for it / Would you push your pride to the side? / Prove me wrong by doing it right
I’ve included an Alina Baraz song on this list literally every year since I started doing this, because almost every year she puts out stunningly sexy new songs. She’s an absolute queen of the slowjam genre.
This song sticks out to me most on her latest EP because it’s about stating your boundaries, holding your ground, lifting your head high and maintaining your standards. Some of Alina’s past songs have been about melting under a man’s touch, getting lost in the reverie of a new flirtation, bending her life and her self to accommodate a powerful infatuation. But this one is different. “Say you wanna keep up,” she dares him; “If you stay the night, you could change my mind.” It’s the ultimate fuck-you to a fuckboy – and a dare for him to do better, to be better, so he can be with her.
I’ll channel Alina Baraz in this song if ever I need to tell someone, in the future, that they’re not currently meeting my standards but that they’re always welcome to change my mind.
You’re so sweet, so tight / I won’t bite, unless you like / If you smoke, I got the haze / And if you’re hungry, girl, I got filets
My brother Max tipped me off to this one. When he gives me a music recommendation, I listen, because 99% of the time, if he thinks I’ll like a song, I end up loving it.
You know that feeling when you get a “booty call” text from the person you’ve been secretly hoping would send you that exact text for hours, if not days or weeks? That feeling of jubilation, excitement, and promise? That feeling that makes you want to spring out of bed, shed your pajamas in favor of a flashier ensemble, slick on some lip gloss and head out to face the thrills of the night to come? This song is that feeling, distilled into a 4-minute-long radio-ready slowjam. It’s perfection.
The lines I quoted above are my favorites, because to me there’s something genuinely healing about a man expressing desire for a woman in a way that acknowledges that she eats – that her hunger is potentially not just sexual but literal, too. Sounds silly, maybe, but we’ve all heard (or experienced firsthand) those tropes about how women only order salad on dates. I’ve always appreciated beaux who showed zero evidence of fat-shaming or food-shaming, and in fact actively encouraged me to stay nourished enough to have good sex – by making me a protein-packed pre-sex steak for energy, handing me a bottle of Gatorade to refuel my electrolytes mid-session, or (in one case) bringing me a selection of refrigerated chocolate bars on a midsummer night to help pump me up for a round 2.
I have no doubts, after listening to this song as many times as I have, that Bruno Mars is a great person to receive a booty call from. He’s passionate. He’s polite. He’s gonna leave the door open for you. Dreamy.
January 9
February 14
April 26
April 30
May 16
August 26
October 24
