Musings

27 Great Things to Own Before You Turn 27

Kate Sloan

I’m turning 27 tomorrow. Weird. I’m decidedly entering my “late twenties,” which feels a little shocking – I still think of myself as essentially a baby, still figuring out how to “adult.” A lot of that is due to mental illness having held me back longer than I’d prefer from typical milestones, and some of it is due to the overall trend of millennials taking longer to move out, get “real” jobs, etc. because of the world’s economic situation right now. But it still feels strange to be turning an age that feels decidedly grown-up without indeed feeling that I’ve grown up.

However, in thinking about it, I do have a whole lot of things that I believe I “ought to” have by this age. These absolutely aren’t prescriptive, and I think no less of you if you don’t have them. But they make me feel more assured in my adulthood, and they might be a useful checklist if you, too, are looking for ways to reassure yourself of your continual grown-upness.

1. A well-worn copy of your favorite book. Is it dog-eared? Have you underlined your favorite passages in pen and scrawled responses in the margins? Have you lent it out to at least three friends? Then it just might be your favorite book.

2. A good selfie mirror. Look, it’s 2019; we have to think about these things. A good full-length selfie mirror was one of the first items I bought for my new apartment when I moved out, and I’ve been glad every day since that I made that decision!

3. Several worthy role models. People who, when you’re stuck or scared, you can ask yourself, “What would ____ do?” Personally, I think my biggest one right now is Alexandra Franzen.

4. Playlists for getting pumped up and for winding down. Music is a major part of the texture of your life, and it can have a huge effect on your mood!

5. A place you can go when you need to be alone. I would tell you about mine, but that would be self-defeating…

6. A signature scent. This one’s tricky because of scent sensitivities and such – but even if you only put on your fave fragrance in the company of you and your beloved, or alone in your bedroom, it’s nice to have a comforting scent that really feels like You. Mine is Aimanté, the perfume my boyfriend had custom-made for me by Brooklyn perfumer Stephen Dirkes, and it still makes me swoon, more than a year into owning it and wearing it regularly.

7. A signature lipstick. For fans of wearing lipstick, there are fewer experiences more gratifying than finally finding one that suits you to a T. It makes your face light up (both for color theory reasons and for pure delight reasons), it coordinates with your fave outfits and accessories, its finish and formulation work for your lifestyle, and even the packaging sparks joy for you. Some of mine: “Violet” by Bite Beauty, “Lucky Red” by Armani, and “Midnight Rose” by Lancôme.

8. A few really good handbags. Okay, ignore me if you’re not a purse person – in which case, I salute you and your bulging pockets – but cute bags are one of the most fun parts of outfit assembly! I have a few I love by Coach, Kate Spade, and mid-century companies whose names have been lost to time, and they serve me very well.

9. A beautiful pen. For signing receipts with a flourish, writing thank-you notes on the fly, and scrawling your phone number on cute people’s arms, of course. My partner, a dyed-in-the-wool pen nerd, recommends JetPens – which is where I picked up my Retro 51 Tornado, the prettiest pen I’ve ever owned.

10. A distinctive and practiced signature. See above. I still haven’t perfected mine. I think there are few things classier than a lovely signature.

11. A job title that makes you feel important, even if you have to make it up and give it to yourself. Look, even if you’re a “sales associate” or a “customer service representative” at your dayjob, you can be the CEO, Editrix-in-Chief, or Creative Director of your side hustle!

12. Treasured nicknames/pet names. Both ones other people have given you and ones you’ve given to other people. This is a type of relational currency and is one of my favorite tiny ways to give and receive affection. (Three of the closest people in my life are “bean,” “bruddy,” and “beeb” – and some of my nearest and dearest call me “Sloany” and “little one.” Swoon!)

13. An idea of what you want to achieve in the next 5 years. You should have a list written down somewhere, even if the items on it seem outlandish and implausible. You’ll probably be amazed at your progress when you look back at it in a few years!

14. A manicurist, hairdresser, waxer, shoeshine, etc. who you would trust with your life. These professions are immensely honorable, in no small part because they have to carefully handle things which are either very susceptible to damage or very important to you or both. Having a service provider on speed-dial can give you so much peace of mind.

15. A go-to local bar or café, and a regular order there. These places are critical to my sanity (such as it is) – they are somewhere I can go when I don’t want to be alone but I can’t quite handle actual social plans. They can also be great settings for those social plans, if and when you’re so inclined. It’s such a comfort having a place where, as they say, “everybody knows your name.”

16. A list of qualities you require in every romantic partner, and one of qualities that would disqualify a person from consideration. (Replace with “friend” if you’re not looking for a romantic partner.) Personal boundaries are a crucial skill to learn as you grow older; good ones can transform your life. Somewhere around 27 is the age I figure I should stop wasting my time on fuckboys, brutes, and clods, and focus my energies exclusively on kind-hearted charmers.

17. Sexy-as-fuck pictures of yourself. Hire a pin-up photographer, enlist a partner, or just set up a tripod and a remote and take ’em yourself. You deserve to have a record of how gorgeous you are!

18. A chequing account, a savings account, and perhaps a credit card. Boring but true.

19. Good glassware. This is a small thing which can feel huge. I feel so much more settled in my home life now that I have a few decent old-fashioned glasses and big water glasses. A set of 4 cost me about $10 at a dollar store. Brilliant.

20. A nice set of towels. These are a fairly recent acquisition for me; previously I was rotating between a couple of cheap beach towels, but my boyfriend (rightfully) insisted I upgrade to something more adult. I was not prepared for how much more luxurious my life would feel once it had big fluffy towels in it!

21. Bedding that makes you happy. Unless you’re a significant outlier in terms of your lifestyle, you likely spend a lot of time in or around your bed. It might as well look and feel like a nice place to be!

22. At least a handful of excellent sex toys (provided, of course, that sex and/or masturbation are things you desire and enjoy). You don’t need to have a zillion like I do, but you should at least have enough to suit your needs. I tend to think almost everybody needs, at the very least, a vibrator, an insertable, and some kind of fun kink tool (e.g. nipple clamps, a paddle, some under-the-bed restraints).

23. Lube that works well for your body. If you have no idea where to begin, just buy a bottle of Sliquid Sassy (best for vaginas and butts) or Uberlube (best for vulvas, vaginas, and penises) and put it on your nightstand. Trust me, if you’ve never used lube regularly but you make yourself start, you’ll be amazed at what a difference it makes.

24. Exquisite loungewear/pajamas. Another thing that seems small but makes a huge difference. I’m ride-or-die for MeUndies lounge pants.

25. An archive of love letters. If you’ve never received any, then offer to exchange some with your friends!

26. A well-stocked medicine cabinet. A practical (a.k.a. boring) suggestion, but there you go. You probably need, at minimum, painkillers, nausea meds, cold and flu meds, Band-Aids, rubbing alcohol, Pepto-Bismol, and perhaps some vitamins.

27. A stress management toolbox. I don’t mean a literal box, although you could go that route. No, I mean a series of functional coping strategies you can call upon when times are tough. A journaling habit, a CBT workbook, an exercise routine, good friends to talk to, a soothing self-care ritual… All of these could be useful to have in place when stress comes a-knockin’.

 

What did you consider important to acquire or achieve before age 27?

Do I Want Kids? Part 3: The World & The Future

Kate Sloan

I have to admit: this instalment of my “Do I Want Kids?” series has been the hardest one to write, and the one I’ve been putting off the longest. Why? Well, it’s not exactly fun to talk about the demise of the planet.

I’ve had a number of conversations over the past few years with friends and partners about whether I think parenthood is in the cards for me, and one consideration that always comes up is: is it even ethical to create more people at a time like this in human history?

Overpopulation is rampant. There are countless kids around the globe waiting to be adopted already; why bring more into the world when that’s the case? I’ve been thinking about adoption a lot more lately since reading Elsie Larson’s blog with her husband Jeremy, TheLarsonHouse.com, about their experiences adopting two little girls with albinism from China. Obviously this is no less legitimate than biological parentage; no DNA test can disprove that they are these girls’ parents, emotionally, logistically, legally. As much as the ideas of pregnancy, giving birth, and passing on my genes and the genes of a partner all tug at my heartstrings, to me it seems apparent that adoption is the more ethical route, from a utilitarian philosophy perspective, if you have a choice between the two. (Not all of us do. Adoption is ridiculously expensive, and sometimes pregnancy strikes unexpectedly.)

But beyond that: what kind of a world is this to raise a child in? I’m terrified of climate change, the current political landscape, and what could happen over the next few decades. It’s a critical moment for humanity, one that’ll either be written up in history books or will just vanish, as we do, into the baked-in history of this crumbling planet. Having a kid at this particular moment sort of feels like renovating a house you know is about to be hit by a meteor. Why even try? All good parents want to spare their children from pain, and what worse pain could there be than trying to survive on a dying planet descending into fascist chaos?

That said, I’m admittedly not as much of a pessimist as this is making me sound. Time is tight, but awareness is growing, and it seems there’s a small chance we could save our planet and ourselves. Environmentally conscious leaders like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Elizabeth May are mocked by right-wingers, but they have the right idea, and there will be more like them in the coming years. My inner state-smashing socialist wants us to overthrow capitalism and overhaul global energy systems in one fell swoop, but my inner realist knows democratic process and slow change are the likelier routes to real shifts in how we do things. I see some glimmers of hope on the horizon in that regard; it’s just a question whether there are enough of those glimmers and if they can summon change fast enough to save us.

There’s a quote from Angels in America I think about all the time in relation to climate change and global collapse: “Before life on Earth becomes finally merely impossible,” prophesies the titular angel, “it will, for a long time before, have become completely unbearable.” Would my children blame me for birthing them into a world where they have to live under staggeringly awful conditions? Or would they merely fight for change, and do their best, and make the most of the cards they were dealt?

All I know is that I don’t know. Maybe that’s enough for now.

 

Thanks so much to TestMeDNA.com for sponsoring this series. Check them out for all your legal paternity test needs!

Do I Want Kids? Part 2: Birth & Bodies

Kate Sloan

I’ve had the nightmare dozens of times: I’m in a fluorescently-lit room at the hospital, legs in stirrups, and everyone is yelling at me. Doctors, nurses, my assumed co-parent (though, better get a paternity test, girl, ’cause let’s hope your baby isn’t faceless and amorphic like this dude is). They all want me to PUSH, but what they don’t understand is that I am trying! My muscles barely obey me, and I slump and cry and try to do what I am told. And then, inevitably, I wake up – before I even get to see my baby.

What this recurrent dream shows me is that I’m terrified of giving birth. I think it’s hard not to feel this way if you have a vagina and a uterus, and maybe even if you don’t. The process is depicted in the media as one of the most physically painful experiences you’ll ever endure: I’ve seen soon-to-be-mothers in movies and TV shows screaming at their husbands, weeping in agony, praying for relief from gods they barely believe in. The pain scares me, yes, but in almost equal measure, I’m scared of who that pain could make me become.

There’s also the horror stories you hear about birth’s effect on the body. Parts can rip and swell and puncture and pop. You can pass out, bleed out, or shit yourself on the birthing bed. Having been relatively healthy for most of my life, I haven’t seen my body stretched to its extremes – and I’m not sure I want to. Why can cis fathers confirm their biological parenthood with a simple home paternity test while I have to endure hours of body- and soul-transforming labor to be eligible for mine?

It doesn’t help that my mom has told me all my life about how painful it was to give birth to me, since her epidural didn’t kick in quite right. But then, she does also say that giving birth to my little brother was comparatively painless, so maybe medical advances will be such by the time I’m pushin’ out a baby that I won’t have to break my brain with pain.

On the plus side, I am well accustomed to processing pain. Being a submissive masochist, I’ve written articles and done interviews on cognitive strategies for dealing with pain, and I struggle with chronic pain on a regular basis – so I’m better equipped than the average person for handling an excruciating situation.

I’ve also long been curious about vaginal fisting as a potential birth training activity during pregnancy, ever since I heard it discussed on some sex podcast long ago. Equivalent to the perineal massage recommended by many obstetricians, but a whole lot more intense, fisting could be a worthwhile practice for helping vaginal muscles learn to relax, stretch, and open up. Assuming the person fisting me would also be present at the birth (which may not be a fair assumption, what with my polyamorous sluttiness, but let’s pretend), they could even use similar communication strategies on The Big Day as they used in our fist-heavy “practice sessions” to guide me through the sensations. I am a big advocate for the idea that practicing difficult tasks makes them easier, and since you can’t exactly practice giving birth before it actually happens, fisting might be the next best thing.

The birth process seems less scary when I think of it that way: as an intense series of sensations, a rigorous task I’m putting my body through, not unlike a kink scene or a sexual feat. And if it seems weird to you to compare “the miracle of life” to a sex act, I would invite you to read Your Child’s Right to Sex, watch Orgasmic Birth, and remember that babies mostly occur because of sex!

Speaking of orgasmic birth… I am definitely the type of person to bring a Magic Wand vibrator to the hospital on that fateful day, assuming I had enough presence of mind to remember it at the time. (Let’s face it, that might be a job for my dutiful co-parent, whoever they may be.) Hey, if huge things are gonna be moving through my vagina, I want some clitoral vibrations to at least soften the blow! Sex educator Susie Bright famously used her wand to lessen discomfort during the birth of her first child. “I had no thought of climaxing,” she wrote in a 2006 blog post, “but the pleasure of the rhythm on my clit was like sweet icing on top of the deep, thick contractions in my womb.”

So, do I want to give birth? Part of me remains aghast at the thought. But another, bigger part of me is curious – curious how my pain tolerance would hold up, curious about what those “deep, thick contractions” feel like, curious about the extent to which pleasure can mitigate that level of pain. Pregnancy and birth are two magical things my body can (presumably) do that I haven’t yet experienced, and I’m always curious about bodily states I have yet to achieve. Maybe one day I’ll be swearing and sweating in a delivery room, cursing the day I ever claimed to want this – but if common accounts of the post-birth experience are true, the memory of that pain will soon melt away in favor of oxytocin bliss, endorphin nirvana, and the joy of meeting the new little person I’ve just brought into the world.

 

Thanks to TestMeDNA for sponsoring this series! Browse their website for answers to big questions like “What does a paternity test cost?” and “What the hell is a buccal swab?”

Why is Having a Sugar Daddy So Hot?

Kate Sloan

Regular readers of this site will recall that I am a former sugar baby. A handsome, charming man paid me in bimonthly instalments for the pleasure of my sparkling company. (That makes it sound more wholesome than it was. There was also phone sex. And devious sexting.)

I had a lot of Thoughts ‘n’ Feelings at the time about money fetishism, “financial domination,” sugar dating, and how it all fits together. I think a lot of sugar babies who seek their daddies on sites like Happymatches probably just think of these interactions as jobs of a sort – and they’re not wrong to do so; sugar dating is often considered a form of sex work. But seeing as I’m a kink nerd, I found myself delving deeper into the psychology of these transactions, seeking to understand why I felt a thrill of titillation whenever a beefy sum landed in my bank account after a late-night telephone tryst.

After thinking about it a lot, here are some of the factors I’ve come to identify in sugar dating’s hotness quotient…

When you have money, you can relax.

Emily Nagoski writes in her book Come As You Are about how stress puts a damper on sexual arousal. Not only are you mentally distracted when you’re stressed out – you’re actually physiologically less able to get turned on.

Nagoski differentiates between the sexual “brakes” and their counterpart, the sexual “accelerator.” If you’re a naturally libidinous person, having the pressure taken off your brakes can kick your accelerator into high gear. So, if stressing about money has been a regular part of your life and then suddenly isn’t anymore, it could affect your sexual desire levels in positive and surprising ways. That’s certainly what happened to me!

With more money also came more free time – some of which I spent on activities that made me feel beautiful, pampered, and sensually stimulated, like taking myself out for fancy meals, lying around getting high, and – yes – masturbating. All of this can kickstart your libido if it’s been stagnant!

Money is power.

This is the thinking upon which all “findom” play is predicated. In the typical dynamic, a male submissive showers a female dominant in cash, because the cash is the metaphor they have both chosen for their consensual power exchange.

Of course, money’s not just a metaphor: it makes you powerful in the real world, too. And for many people, feeling powerful – capable, strong, unfuckwithable – can boost their sex drive.

Interestingly, I was a submissive in my dynamic, as is relatively common in sugar relationships. My sugar daddy found power in his ability to take care of me by handling my expenses and treating me to things I wanted. But there is lots of power to be found in submission, when it’s something you want and have chosen. When someone else puts me in this role I love so much, I feel respected, seen, and understood – and those are definitely powerful feelings.

Payment is evidence of your desirability.

It’s not the only evidence, certainly. But it’s pretty hard to deny that someone finds you attractive if they are literally paying you for the privilege of spending time with you.

Despite knowing on a logical level that many people think I’m cute, I often find it difficult to believe. I have to look for evidence, cognitive-behavioral therapy-style, that I am indeed hot – and even then, I rarely quite believe it. The exchange of money was almost like a shortcut to understanding my own hotness, though. It just seemed so concrete and real to me; there was no way for me to rationalize it away. Clearly this man wanted me; otherwise he would not have gone to the trouble of seeking me out and lavishing cash on me.

With money, you can make yourself look – and feel – hotter.

Last but not least, when you’re cashed up, you can do things like get waxed, get your hair done, buy makeup, and update your wardrobe. These things may seem small, but they can affect your sexual self-confidence and thereby your libido.

In a perfect world, we would all be able to conjure confidence from within ourselves, without having to rely on external factors or extrinsic validation – but until that perfect world comes into being, I’ll take the opportunity to look hot on someone else’s dime if they’re offering. Why the hell not?

 

Have you ever been in a sugar-dating dynamic? Did you find it hot? What appealed to you about it?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

You’re Someone’s Favorite Flavor

Kate Sloan
Eating cinnamon/coconut gelato in Malta

While I’m a strong proponent of the fact that we’re all different and have unique perspectives and experiences, the subjectivity of attraction has always been hard for me to wrap my mind around. I’ve told countless friends and readers who felt unattractive, “There are people out there who would be so into you; you just have to find them!” but it’s often been tough for me to believe that about myself.

On free adult dating sites and apps, it can seem like we’re being reduced to how we look – and this can be discouraging for those of us who feel like our appearance is subpar in some way. I’ve thought of myself for so long as someone whose Tinder bio you have to read to truly understand my charm. This self-perception was so ingrained, I didn’t even believe my partner when he recently told me he thought I was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, the first time he laid eyes on me.

So it seemed like a good time to revisit a lesson I often impart on friends and readers when they just can’t comprehend or accept their own attractiveness. I call it “the ice cream metaphor,” and it goes like this:

Imagine you go out for ice cream with a friend. “I’m gonna get my favorite flavor,” they announce excitedly, rubbing their hands together.

“What flavor is that?” you ask.

And then they name a flavor you find absolutely vile. Cotton candy, butter pecan, rum raisin, whatever it may be… A flavor you can’t imagine anyone eats, let alone enjoys.

But you look at their big grin, and the spring in their step as they march up to the counter at the ice cream parlor, and the expression of total bliss on their face when their tongue first touches their treat. And you realize then that while you don’t agree with them that it’s a good flavor, you believe them when they say it’s their favorite.

This is how attraction works, too. You don’t have to agree with everyone who thinks you’re hot. In fact, when they compliment you, you may feel a full-body reaction of doubt and dismissal, because what you see when you look in the mirror certainly doesn’t register as “hot” to you. But you should still do your best to say “Thank you” and to believe what they’re saying. Their perceptions and tastes are different from yours. This happens in every area where humans can have preferences, from ice cream to music to, yes, people. Suspend your disbelief and allow yourself to accept that you are hot to somebody, even if you’re not hot to you.

You may be a flavor you personally wouldn’t eat if there was no other ice cream left on earth, but there are people who could lick you all day long and still want more. Know what I’m sayin’?

You’re someone’s favorite flavor. Don’t forget it.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.