Author: Kate Sloan

How to Make a Long-Distance Goodbye Easier

Kate Sloan

You know how they say “sadness is the price we pay for love”? I’ve never felt that more strongly than in a long-distance relationship.

Saying goodbye to a local partner is NBD; you know you’ll be seeing them next Tuesday anyway, and that if an emotional emergency before then necessitated their presence, you could just swing by their place. But goodbyes with long-distance partners can be heavy: you’ll soon be once again unable to touch and kiss this person you love to touch and kiss, and you may not even know when that gap will be closed again. There’s no way around it: it sucks.

This melancholy interaction may be inevitable, but there are things you can do to avoid falling into a pit of despair every time. I say this as a woman who, nine months ago, broke down in tears on the floor while clutching my partner’s leg because I so desperately didn’t want them to leave: things need not always be this dramatic! Here are some habits I’ve picked up that have made these long-distance farewells easier to handle…

Stay in the moment. It’s very easy, the day that one of you’ll be headed back home, to spend all day long fretting and crying about how sad it is that you have to part ways. But that’s a trap, and it robs you of the thing you’ll miss most once they go: quality time with your beloved. Try to stay focused on your partner right up until you have to start dealing with travel logistics – it’ll be easier to let them go if you know you made every moment count.

Sort out your travel well in advance. Nothing kills the good vibes at the end of a long-distance date faster than freaking out about last-minute travel mishaps. Plan your route to the airport, bus station, etc. during a calm moment so you won’t have to do it during a sad, scary one. Check in for your flight on your phone so you don’t have to rush. Make sure you know where your passport is. The more of this stuff you get out of the way earlier, the longer you can enjoy your sweetheart’s company for.

Reminisce on the highlights of your date. My partner and I do this as part of a ritualized “debrief” at the end of each of our dates. We go back and forth listing our favorite things we did together on that visit, both sexual and non-sexual. It lets us process those experiences together while lifting our moods and getting us excited about things we want to do again sometime. This is one way we try to leave our dates on a happy note.

Plan your next date. This isn’t always possible, because travel is a fickle mistress (not to mention expensive), but if you can figure out when you might next see each other, it helps. Life might well throw a wrench into your plans, but at least it’ll give you something to look forward to in the meantime.

Exchange tokens of affection. Temporarily losing your physical connection with your partner is really hard; exchanging physical gifts of some kind can help mitigate that feeling of lack and loss. You could lend them a T-shirt that smells like you, or leave them a bruise on their ass as a badge of honor; they could give you a stuffed animal to cuddle, or write “Remember I love you” on your arm. There are a lot of ways to leave a little piece of yourself with someone so they feel like you’re still there even when you go.

Say goodbye alone and in a quiet place, if possible. I learned, after one particularly painful goodbye in a New York City subway station, that farewells in loud, public areas make me feel disconnected and unresolved. I need concentrated time with my partner right before our paths diverge. This could be as elaborate as an intimate last-hurrah date in the corner booth of a fancy restaurant, or as simple as sleuthing out a quiet alcove in the train station for one last heart-to-heart before “all aboard.” You’ll feel better if your last few minutes together feel just as connective and intimate as the high points of your date.

Reflect and process. You’ve already discussed your date with your beau; now it’s time to sit with all those feelings on your own. Journaling on my homebound plane ride is always my favorite way to do this – I’ll write about the best parts of the date, any questions or worries it left me with, and how it all felt. This process helps me transition back into my “real life.”

Be gentle with yourself. It is totally okay – normal, even – if you feel sad for a few hours or days after bidding your love adieu. Try not to beat yourself up if it takes you some time to “get back to normal” emotionally. I often find that this type of sadness comes with a bodily sluggishness that makes it harder for me to accomplish anything once it sinks in that we’re apart again, so I try not to schedule anything rigorous or anxiety-provoking within the first 12 hours of my arrival home, if not more. It’s an act of self-love to observe your own patterns in this way and set boundaries or make adjustments accordingly.

Stay in touch. Like a kink scene, a long-distance date shouldn’t end with you just disappearing – there’s gotta be aftercare! Try to be available to your partner for texting, emails, phone calls, or your other conversational medium(s) of choice – maybe even more available than usual. Both of you might still be feeling pretty mushy-hearted, and there might be more to talk about and process. Plus, of course, knowing you can still talk to someone easily can make it a lot easier to stomach their physical absence.

Notice what works and doesn’t work for you, and adjust. If you have some goodbyes that particularly suck, or some that are unusually easy, it’s worth discussing together: what factors contributed to this outcome, and how can we adapt our future approach with this new knowledge in mind? All the above tips are practices my partner and I have come to after many, many months of trying different strategies and talking about our feelings. It’s half-trial and error, half-scientific method. It can’t erase our pain entirely, but it offers us a toolbox for managing that pain.

How have you handled goodbyes in long-distance relationships? Got any tips (or warnings)?

The Case of the Disappearing Safety Pin Fetish

Kate Sloan

Being a sex journalist whose work often has a psychological bent, I’ve read many a research study in my time. Usually I’m just combing these PDFs for facts to bolster my argument, but occasionally I find one so consumingly weird or interesting that I read the whole thing, agog – like that time I live-tweeted reading Dr. Chua Chee Ann’s groundbreaking study in which he “discovered” the anterior fornix.

I had one such experience recently when, combing through theories of fetish formation as research for a client project, I stumbled across a case study from 1954 detailing the wild woes of a man with an unusual fetish. Buckle up; let’s get into it…

The study opens by introducing us to our protagonist, a 38-year-old man who suffers from both epilepsy and a lifelong fetish for safety pins – specifically, “bright shiny” safety pins. I say “suffers” here not because fetishes are inherently bad (they’re not) but because his interferes with his relationship, as we’ll see later. In spite of this, he admits that looking at safety pins gives him what he calls a “thought satisfaction” that is “the greatest experience of his life – ‘better than sexual intercourse.'”

If you’re wondering where his epilepsy comes into all of this, here it is. The man, the study goes on to say, started to notice “blank periods” of memory when he looked at safety pins starting at around age 8, but because he would always retreat to the privacy of a bathroom before indulging in this carnal habit, no one ever actually observed him blanking out until his wife did when he was 23. On subsequent viewings, it became clear that looking at safety pins reliably brought on some kind of epileptic episode for this man: he would look at the pin for a minute, go glassy-eyed, make humming and sucking noises with his lips, and sometimes walk backwards “while his right hand plucked at his left sleeve.” For all this time, he would be unresponsive. Sometimes this type of episode also induced “postictal confusion” severe enough that he would dress himself in his wife’s clothing afterward, the study mentions offhandedly. (Was he into crossdressing too, or was he just disoriented?! The world may never know.)

To dig even more deeply into this poor man’s sex life… He most often felt the urge to look at a safety pin during “sexual stimulation and anxiety-producing situations,” which gels with my experience of my own kinks: I think about them when I’m turned on, sure, but also when I’m stressed out and seeking comfort. Occasionally he would have an epileptic fit of the aforementioned sort if he fantasized about safety pins during sex or masturbation, suggesting, interestingly, that it was the thought of pins moreso than the reality of them that induced these episodes. (But then, aren’t our kinks always “all in our heads,” fundamentally?) In classic 1954 fashion, the study notes, “Most frequently the fits occurred soon after awakening when, with a full bladder, adult sexual outlets were sought but refused by a frigid wife.” (Dude, you’d probably act “frigid” too if your husband had a unique fetish in a world lacking proper sex education and kink-positivity. Yeesh.)

Also standard for the 1950s, the study goes on to blame the man’s “over-affectionate mother” for him being “effeminate.” In the same section, it describes his childhood habit of collecting and playing with safety pins. Apparently, on one occasion, he clearly saw a safety pin in his mother’s discarded underclothes, an event which my inner fetish detective wants to guess is the origin of his kink, but we can never know for sure.

In detailing his sex life during adulthood – which is relevant insofar as a psychological “aberration” like a fetish is often only considered a problem if it causes the patient distress or impairment in their life – the study mentions that he has “voyeuristic tendencies, with emphasis on women’s breasts,” suggesting that he has at least some sexual interests outside of safety pins. However, it goes on to say that within the last five years he has increasingly suffered from impotence, “claiming that the safety pin had replaced his need for a genital outlet.” This, we might reasonably call an impairment – though it depends on your understanding of what a healthy sex life is, doesn’t it?

In any case, the epileptic fits (if not the fetish itself) had evidently caused the man sufficient distress that he sought treatment. (He’d also experienced a few episodes of psychosis, presumably epilepsy-related, in which he believed himself to be a relative of the king or a messenger of God.) After confirming epileptic activity with brain tests in the lab, both before and after showing him safety pins, doctors surgically removed the part of his anterior temporal lobe that the tests had determined were the problem area.

16 months after surgery, the man came back into the hospital for a follow-up. Amazingly, he reported he had had no further epileptic fits and no further desire to look at safety pins. His boner issues had even resolved; he was now able to have a full and satisfying sex life with his (frigid??) wife. Further brain tests were done and confirmed that, unlike before the surgery, nothing major changed in his brain activity when he looked at a safety pin. The fetish was effectively gone.

Reading this study left me with the question: Is it good – morally, practically, or otherwise – to take away someone’s fetish if it’s causing them consternation? Obviously there are cases where reducing or removing a particular aberrant desire is arguably necessary for the greater good, like when pedophiles with a history of committing sexual assault are chemically castrated; I’m not totally sure how I feel about these measures, but many healthcare professionals and even some pedophiles themselves think this is the best option. In cases where a fetish isn’t causing harm, however – or is only causing harm insofar as it’s stigmatized and creates friction in the fetishist’s relationships and/or self-image – can we really say it’s “good” to take away the locus of someone’s passionate desire?

Like the kinky equivalent of conversion therapy, many methods have been suggested for “removing” people’s kinks from their brains. But also like conversion therapy, it seems to me that this line of thinking only comes up because we live in a world that so deeply stigmatizes some people’s perfectly acceptable desires. Who is harmed by this man having a safety pin fetish? Maybe his wife, who wanted a better and more conventional sexual connection with her husband – but perhaps then she should’ve picked a different partner, or learned how to use his fetish to arouse him during sex. Maybe he himself is harmed, in that he felt inadequate and weird because of his fetish – but arguably that’s just a function of cultural kinkphobia. Both of these people were probably just trying their best, within a time period that severely limited the ways one could think about fetishism – but this attitude often still persists today, at a time when we’re much better-equipped to handle and think about fetishes, and it’s sad.

While I’m glad that the man in this study was seemingly cured of his epileptic episodes, I wish he had been able to hang onto his fetish – without it upsetting him or troubling his relationship. Looking at safety pins, after all, was “the greatest experience of his life,” even if he no longer cared to do it after his surgery. It saddens me to think that anyone could see that type of exquisite “thought satisfaction” as anything less than healthy, wonderful joy.

8 Pieces of Useful Wisdom From Sex Workers

Kate Sloan

Each time I’ve dabbled in forms of sex work, like putting on cam shows and selling my used underwear, one of the best things about these endeavors has been connecting with other people doing similar work. I can’t think of a group more passionate, open-hearted, and resourceful than sex workers. They provide crucial services to people who need and want them, despite frequently encountering crushing stigma and legal roadblocks like SESTA/FOSTA. (See the last point on this list for more on that.)

So I’m delighted that I’ve partnered with Escorts & Babes – Sydney Escorts to put together this list of some of the major lessons I’ve learned from genius sex workers in my social spheres. Anyone who says you don’t need skills or smarts to do sex work is fooling themselves.

Trust is hot. Sex and kink, in my experience, just seem to get better and hotter the more trust there is between the participants. I imagine it must be hard to establish this trust as quickly and thoroughly as you would need to in a sex work context, which makes it all the more impressive that so many service providers do it on a regular basis. Their work invites me to look at my own sex life and ask: Where could I be more trusting, and how might that improve my experiences? And, inversely, where am I being too trusting, and how can I solve that?

Dirty talk is magic. After all the many, many hours I’ve spent having phone sex and being erotically hypnotized, I’ve come to think of dirty talk (and related sexual oration) as a form of literal magic: like casting a spell in the Hogwarts universe, you say some kind of incantation and it has real, observable effects in the body and brain of the person you’re talking to. Sex workers tend to wield this power better than anyone I know; it’s often a sharpened and well-loved tool in their toolbox, and part and parcel of what keeps their clients coming back. Hearing these stories makes me want to step up my own dirty-talk skills!

Disabled people can be (and often are) sexual too! I can’t believe there are still so many people who don’t understand this, but there you go… While it sucks that our ableist world too often tries to paint disabled people as unsexy and unsexual, I know some who’ve sought sex workers’ services and found them immensely healing and helpful. Obviously it sucks that this route is financially inaccessible for many, and that ableism continues to exist, but I’m glad some disabled folks have the option to pursue sexual touch on their own terms by hiring a sex worker. (Did you know there’s even been a recent push in Australia to get sexual services for disabled folks covered by national disability insurance? I hope the Aussie government comes around on this eventually; it could be a big life-changer for many disabled folks, as well as Australian sex workers, like those at Escorts & Babes – www.escortsandbabes.com.au.)

When it comes to kink, more communication is better. I admire the thorough negotiations many sex workers (especially pro dommes) insist on doing before sessions, and I think every sexually active person could benefit from adopting similar practices in their own sex lives. No partner can give you the mind-blowing sex you’ve been dreaming of if they don’t know what gets you hot. Share your likes and your limits – it can only make things better!

Kink can be startlingly intimate. Granted, just like vanilla sex, kink can feel awkwardly distanced, deliciously connective, or anywhere in between. But I find that intimacy and kink tend to go hand-in-hand moreso for me, and I can access depths of connection through kink that I didn’t even know existed back when I thought I was vanilla. I’ve heard from sex worker friends and acquaintances, over and over, that a large part of what their clients are seeking isn’t just sexual gratification but some sense of emotional communion with another human being. That’s what kink feels like to me, when it’s at its best.

Asking for consent isn’t hard. It’s sex workers’ job to ensure their clients have a good time, so of course they would tend to prioritize consent highly in their transactions. We all should take a leaf out of their book, and weave consent check-ins into the tapestry of our sexual encounters. This doesn’t have to be as unsexy as some people insist – as Lo points out here, there are tons of super hot turns of phrase you can use to make sure your paramour is into what’s happening and wants it to continue. You truly have no excuse.

Knowing what you want is half the battle. This is a major lesson I’ve taken from kink and repeatedly applied to my own life: you can’t progress toward the objects of your desires until you’ve identified what those desires are. Sounds simple, but it’s often deceptively difficult to figure out what your heart is actually calling out for. This type of soul-searching is worth doing, and is one of the initial steps on the path to enduring happiness.

SESTA/FOSTA is killing people and must be stopped. This is the most important item on this list, so listen up. If you don’t know, SESTA/FOSTA are “anti-trafficking bills,” signed into law in early 2018, that have actually taken aim at sex workers by raiding and shutting down escort listing sites (yes, this is why Craigslist’s personal ads got slashed) and getting tons of adult content banned from various platforms. It will come for us all eventually – and has already started to – but it mainly impacts sex workers, especially those who live and/or work in the USA. You can help by raising awareness about these laws in your networks, donating to sex work advocacy organizations like Red Light Legal and SWOP Behind Bars, contacting your political reps to demand they take action, and supporting sex workers directly by hiring them, buying their content, and giving them money.

 

What wisdom have you picked up from sex workers in all their industrious brilliance?

 

This post was sponsored by the folks at Escorts & Babes – Sunshine Coast Escorts. As always, all writing and opinions (except, of course, in quoted tweets) are my own.

5 Types of Lingerie to Incorporate Into Regular Outfits

Kate Sloan

Lingerie, like manicures and 9-step skincare routines, is one of those things I’ve always wished I was more into than I actually am. It seems like an important hallmark of a certain type of femme presentation, one I long to embody but just can’t be bothered to pursue most of the time. After all, lingerie is expensive, sometimes cumbersome, and not even guaranteed to be seen by many people – so when I have a little spare cash to spend on feminine treats, usually I’ll go for a new dress or lipstick in lieu of a new bustier or garter belt.

That said, I’ve read a couple of articles lately on incorporating sexy-wear into your everyday ensembles – this one by Rae and this one by Cora – and it got me thinking about the few types of lingerie I do like to wear, often outside the confines of my bedroom (scandalous!). Here are some of them…

Slips

I love slips, and their closely related cousins, babydolls and chemises. Not all of them are long enough – or opaque enough – to don as outerwear, but when I find one that is, I immediately start plotting outfits.

As you can see in these photos, you can wear a slip in various different ways to make it look like a dress, a skirt, or a shirt, depending on what you layer over top of it. It can appear casual with a T-shirt thrown over it, or you can emphasize the ornate formality of a lacy slip by pairing it with tights and heels. A cardigan is a good happy medium between the two: it “dresses down” your slip a little, so you don’t look like the weirdo who showed up to a frat party in fine silks (although: you do you!).

I particularly like to wear slips in the summer, when “real clothes” can feel oppressively excessive. They can look like a fully thought-out outfit when worn with ballet flats and maybe a coordinating hair accessory, but they’re actually super easy and quick to put on, and comfortable enough to wear all day.

One tip: since slips are intended to be underwear, they don’t always conceal stuff like nipples and panty lines very effectively. For this reason, you might want to layer an additional slip or half-slip underneath, or a bodysuit.

Bodysuits

Speak of the devil… There are tons of gorgeous bodysuits in the world that are only supposed to be worn behind closed doors. Fuck that! If a piece of clothing I own is beautiful, I want to wear it outside, dammit. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to make these items more appropriate for public wear.

My favorite way to do this is to tuck a pretty bodysuit into a high-waisted skirt or a pair of jeans. You’ll probably want to wear a bra or bralette underneath to prevent flashing people, and this admittedly isn’t an appropriate type of outfit for, say, a church service or your grandmother’s potluck luncheon, but it’s a super eye-catching style that makes me feel like a total babe.

Pro tip: when shopping online for lingerie you intend to wear outdoors, always check out the loungewear section first. In my experience, it tends to contain the most street-appropriate bodysuits, camisoles, slips and chemises you’ll find anywhere on the site.

Bikini tops

I think I originally picked this up from teen magazines in my youth and it’s never really left me… If you’re wearing a high-waisted garment on your bottom half, and don’t mind showing some skin, you can get away with wearing a bikini top as a sort of abbreviated crop top. It’s not the most mature or sophisticated look – it makes me feel like a blonde PacSun model circa 2003 – but it works for some casual summery occasions.

If subtlety is more your style, you can also wear a bikini top under a dress or shirt, like a bra (see the rightmost outfit pictured). They usually peek out a little bit, offering a visually appealing flash of color or sparkle, and giving you the air of someone who’s ready for beach adventures at a moment’s notice. Of course, if you do intend on dropping by a beach/lake/pool/whatever, it’s nice to be prepared in the chicest way possible.

Garter belts and stockings

These are usually too finicky for me to bother with, but it’s nice to have them in your toolkit for when you want to feel really sexy and fancy. While currently mostly relegated to the sphere of the bedroom, garter belts and stockings used to be daily-wear items for women in the mid-century and beyond. They add some timeless panache to your ensemble when they peek out the bottom of a skirt or dress.

If a garter belt is too much work for you (and I truly don’t blame you), look for “stay-up” or “hold-up” stockings, which usually have some kind of sticky material on the inside of the cuff to keep them from sliding down your thighs. Genius!

Corsets and bustiers

I wore these in high school when I would go to see Rocky Horror, and they were the ideal thing, styled with shiny skirts, high-heeled boots, and ever-present fishnet tights. But let’s face it: that’s not exactly office attire.

A beautiful corset or bustier under a blazer might be, though, especially if you’re also wearing an elegant skirt or pair of pants, plus ideally heels. A lot of high-end fashion houses have even pulled inspiration from the realms of lingerie and fetishwear in recent years (and, well, recent decades), so – depending on your field – it may not be that weird for your outfit to contain a pop of lace or silk or corsetry. You might even look like the most fashionable person there!

Do you like to incorporate lingerie items into your everyday outfits? How do you do it?

 

This post was sponsored by the fine folks at Honey Gifts, which has a robust lingerie section containing all sorts of lovely and luxurious items!

The Joys of Distraction Play (or: I Wrote This While Getting My Clit Sucked)

Kate Sloan

Author’s note: As the title of this post implies, I wrote it while having sex, so in a way, reading this post is entering into a “scene” with me. I wanted you to know that upfront so you can make your own decision about whether or not you want to keep reading.

 

My Sir is the perfect partner for a sex blogger. Here’s one of the ways I know: we were having a conversation recently about the genre of activities we call “distraction play” – people getting deliberately distracted by sexual stimulation while they try to do a non-sexual task – and Sir said, “Why don’t you write a blog post on that topic… while I’m distracting you with my mouth?”

This wouldn’t be our first foray into this particular kink. In the epic sexting sessions of our early relationship, both of us fetishized the idea of me blowing them while they took a business call (dating the owner of a company is hot). Our first time actually trying something like this, they sat in a chair in our room at the James Hotel and read aloud to me from Kinky Trifles while I knelt in front of them and sucked their cock. It was hot to hear them stumble on their words while they were deep in my throat; I liked reducing my normally smooth, golden-voiced partner to a stuttery mess.

This type of kink scene has interested me for years. My first memory of encountering it was the launch of “Hysterical Literature,” a viral video series in which performers read aloud from favorite books while being stimulated by an unseen vibrator. I was immediately entranced and wanted to try this type of kink play from both the bottom and the top. I recall fantasizing about going down on a musically talented beau while he tried to play the piano, and imagining he’d turn the tables on me and finger me with escalating fervor while I tried to play the ukulele. I liked that these kinky games essentially fetishized competence, a thing I already fetishize: the sensation-receiver has to be exceptionally good at the task they’re trying to complete, and the sensation-giver has to be exceptionally good at distracting them. It’s a perverted battle of wits and will. What could be hotter than that?

This type of scene, at least in fantasy and porn, often involves non-consenting third parties: the clients on the other end of a blowjobby business call, for example, or the audience members listening to a piano performance that skips and sputters to the rhythm of a veiled handjob. That element never appealed to me about it, but then, risk and danger have historically destroyed my arousal like a bucket of ice water being tossed over me. I was never the type to enjoy the thought that someone could walk in on me during sex at any time or that I’d be “caught in the act.” I likewise don’t want any uninvolved observers to get grossed out when they realize what’s going on; I’d rather my distraction play be a private one-on-one game, or, at most, that it take place at a small party where everyone present knows what to expect and is excited about it. (God, can you imagine attending an intimate concert at someone’s home, knowing their partner would be sucking them off while they played?!)

A problem with this type of scene, of course, is that you’re doing everything by half-measures. You can’t fully enjoy the pleasure you’re receiving, nor can you fully immerse yourself in the task you’re doing. It’s a wonder this blog post is at all coherent, in fact, given that my partner’s wet lips have been methodically stroking my clit the entire time I’ve been typing this. For this reason, I wouldn’t want “distraction play” to be a regular part of my sex life, because I like to focus on sex as much as possible when it’s happening – but it’s fun to mix things up once in a while with silly, experimental games like this. Seeing your partner in new and different situations is always a hoot, because you get to see as-yet-unexplored parts of their personality or even their sexuality, and this is a great example of that.

Would I ever actually have an orgasm from this type of scene? Probably not – I’m a tough nut to crack, climax-wise, and need to be pretty focused if I’m going to get off. But in fantasies anyway, an orgasm always seems to me like the ideal finale to this type of scene. There’s something unimaginably hot, for example, about the idea of someone’s cock trembling in my mouth, squirting cum down my throat, while their body writhes, their breath catches, and… they finish the sentence they were reading. I always like feeling someone orgasm in my mouth, but I think I would like it even more if I knew my tongue and lips felt so good that they came hard even while scatterbrained and multitasking. A hard-won climax, after all, is sometimes the best and most intense kind.

 

Have you ever done a “distraction play” scene? How did it go?