One of the weirdest things about being a sex writer is the cognitive dissonance between the sexual person your readers think you are and the sexual person you actually are.
It’s important to keep in mind, always, as you’re scrolling through your social media feeds and your RSS reader (if you still use one of those antiquated things like I do), that comparing yourself to people you see on the internet is comparing your insides to somebody else’s outsides. You’re never getting the full picture, even if you think you are.
And that’s not as bad a thing as some people would have you believe, either. “Authenticity” and “transparency” are only useful up to a point; y’all don’t need to know about the chin hairs I pluck or the ins and outs of my fibre intake. I mean, maybe some of you want to know that stuff (I know plenty of my readers have unusual fetishes!) but I am by no means obligated to share it all with you. The people who make me the most uncomfortable in this business are the people who insist that my openness and honesty in certain areas mean I’m required to be open and honest in every area. Nope. Fuck that. Fuck that forever.
All this to say: I’m probably not as horny or as sexually adventurous a person as you might imagine. In fact, if not for phone sex, I think these days I’d only jerk off 2-3 times a week, tops, if left to my own (vibrating) devices.
That caveat – “if not for phone sex” – is what I want to talk about today. As you might know, I keep a sex spreadsheet, so I have stats on my IRL sex life for the past several years and my phone-sex sex life for the past year and a half. My partner mb – who is delightfully chill about the whole “recording detailed data on our intimate encounters” thing – recently pointed out to me, as we were totalling up our sex numbers from the 4 months they spent quarantined with me, that despite having phone sex nearly every night when we’re apart, we didn’t have sex every single night we were physically together. We had sex 84 times in the 121 days they were here – so, about 69% of those nights (nice). I had noticed that too, and had been pondering the possible reasons.
When we discussed it, we came to 2 overall conclusions about why we’re more prolifically horny over the phone than IRL:
Sometimes the “point” of sex (or one of them, anyway) is to establish intimacy and connection. When we’re together IRL (especially when quarantining), we’re already getting a lot of that throughout the day – not to mention throughout the night, when we cuddle and touch and kiss and can smell each other and feel each other’s warmth all night. Sex isn’t less appealing, necessarily, but it doesn’t feel like as urgent a need when part of its “purpose” is getting fulfilled elsewhere.
In-person sex takes more energy. Phone sex is comparatively chill.
That second one is really the crucial one for me, I think. As a person with depression and chronic pain + fatigue, sometimes I just don’t have the energy for sex, despite knowing it would almost certainly improve my mood and my pain status. It’s not only the physical motion involved – which can be reduced or almost entirely eliminated when I’m fucking a capable and enthusiastic top, like mb – but also the mental energy involved. No matter how comfortable I am with a partner, it still saps some of my energy to constantly wonder if my sex faces look weird, or if my body is actually as attractive as my partner claims it is, or if my roommate can hear the impacts when I’m getting spanked.
It’s a lot like how Zoom video calls can be utterly draining for me (I’m sure many of you can relate) while audio-only calls are comparatively blissful. I just don’t have enough brain-spoons to simultaneously manage not only the conversation we’re having but also how I look while we’re having it. Let’s turn our video off so I can forget, briefly, just how ugly I secretly worry I am.
Phone sex with mb is so good that I’ve pondered many times whether we can continue having it when we’re eventually living together. And fortunately, they’re the type of inventive, considerate, GGG partner that I honestly feel like we might. I can imagine us residing together in a tiny one-bedroom New York apartment and me saying at the end of a long day, “Hey, I’m super worn out. Can I go to the other room so we can have phone sex?” I’d bring some sex toys with me and slip back seamlessly into that pleasantly agitated headspace I so often inhabited when we had just started dating and our romantic nighttime phone sex sessions were the fuel that propelled me through my difficult, depressed days.
I’ve had a wide range of opinions on long-distance relationships over the course of my life, but I never really thought I would prefer them, or at least prefer elements of them. Maybe it’s a bad sign about my relationship with my body that non-corporeal forms of sex seem to appeal to me more, and rev my sexual engine more consistently, than types involving my actual fucking body – but honestly, the world is a mess right now. “Whatever works.” That’s the phrase I keep saying to friends on the phone and via text when they tell me about some supposedly “weird” coping mechanism or distracting hobby they’ve picked up since the coronavirus swept the world. “Whatever works.” Whatever makes you feel happier and more at ease and more functional is worth at least considering.
I’m so blessed to have a partner who understands and accepts all of my limitations, and not only knows how to work within them but also actively gets excited about finding new ways to work within them. I am so lucky to be in love with someone so good, so kind, so accommodating. And I am so lucky to have access to a type of sex that bridges gaps, raises my self-image, requires very little energy on my part, and makes me feel like a scintillating stunner even when I’m lying in bed with day-old pajamas on and a cavalcade of unsexy pillows cradling my aching body.
This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.
One oft-repeated truism about tattoos is that once you get your first one, you’ll just want more and more. Obviously this isn’t true for everyone, but it has certainly been true for me. I got my first tattoo 5 years ago and have gotten about one per year since then.
When I got my first book deal last year and submitted the completed manuscript earlier this year, I pondered tattoos I could get to memorialize the experience. Several linguistically-inclined friends of mine have writing-themed tattoos – an ampersand, a typewriter, a pen nib – and I always oohed and aahed over them while knowing that they weren’t ideal images for my own scribe-centric ink. I don’t use typewriters (at least, not since a multimedia zine project in 2010), I don’t often pick up a fountain pen, and plain punctuation just doesn’t jive with my preferred tattoo style: colorful, quirky, and fun.
However, over the past couple years, two writing implements came into my possession that I thought were pretty enough to get tattooed on me: the pink and silver limited-edition Blackwing Volume 54 pencil, and the peacock-blue Retro 51 Tornado pen. Both have become desktop staples for me; I make scribbled notes with them during podcast recordings and journalism interviews, write in my journal with them over steaming cups of tea, tuck them into my bag when I go out incase of a writing emergency… These two tools have fast become some of the most beloved (and most beautiful) members of my collection.
I vaguely knew they might look good in a tattoo together on my upper left arm, perhaps with a purple background to bridge the color-spectrum gap between their pink and blue hues (and also to mirror the shades of the bisexual pride flag!), but I didn’t know exactly how they should be arranged on my skin. So I emailed Laura Blaney – the Etobicoke-based artist who also did the pink bows on my thighs and the stunning flowers on my right arm – and attached some reference images. We met up for a consultation at her studio, and I felt – as I have every other time I’ve gone to see her – that she 100% understood what I wanted, and would be able to provide it. Yay!
Unfortunately, then we had to postpone our appointment for 4 months because of the pandemic. But it wasn’t really that frustrating, because I got to spend those extra months thinking about the design and making sure I really, really wanted it – which I did. By the time we finally rebooked in July, Laura’s studio had put health and safety measures into place to keep the environment as COVID-proof as possible – and reputable tattoo parlors are also, by necessity, already pretty damn safe and sanitized to begin with.
On the day of my appointment, I took all my usual safety measures (mask, hand sanitizer, obsessive hand-washing), and took an Uber to the studio. The tattooing stations were appropriately socially distanced, and the few other people present were all wearing masks the entire time. Laura wiped down my phone and Kindle to sanitize them when I arrived, so I could use them safely while getting tattooed. We discussed layouts and colors a bit, settled on the design I wanted, and then started the inking process.
I had been worried it would be more painful than my previous tattoos, because my chronic pain disorder has gotten worse over the past couple years and some say it’s a result of increased neurological sensitivity to pain overall. But it barely hurt, and certainly not anywhere near as badly as my thigh tattoos, easily the most painful ones I’ve gotten (that skin is sensitive!). The only bothersome parts of it were the tops of the pen and pencil, where they curve slightly onto the bony part of my shoulder. Everything else was just a low-level scratchy feeling that I easily tuned out while losing myself in my e-reader.
The final result is exactly what I wanted: colorful, eye-catching, and meaningful. It’s a similar size and color palette to the floral tattoo on my other arm, so I look (and feel!) more symmetrical. And it’s also an instant conversation-starter about one of my favorite topics to discuss: writing!
Thanks so much, as always, to Laura for her tireless and meticulous work on this piece of art. I know I’ll adore it for many, many years to come.
My daily routine is more affected by my chronic illness than I’d like to admit. Work can’t start until I manage to forge a path through my fatigue with the requisite amount of coffee and good music; task-switching and location-switching are informed by which positions my body can tolerate that day and which it refuses to; and when my pain decides that the work day has ended, I usually have to listen.
It’s – to say the least – a bummer, especially since I used to be renowned among my friend group and my online communities for my productivity as a writer. The same impulses still come up as before, the ones that pushed me toward creativity and stamina and long sore-eyed hours in front of the computer, but my body cannot enact my mind’s wishes on most days now and it makes me feel like a failure. Like I’m failing not only myself but also all the people who taught me how to write and all the people who believe (or believed) in me as a writer.
I seem to come back to Esmé Wang’s blog The Unexpected Shape over and over again as I wade deeper into the chronic illness life. Esmé is one of my favorite writers, and – like me – she deals with pain and fatigue (among numerous other symptoms) as part of her daily life. She’s written a lot about “creating a healthy writing practice when your health doesn’t want to cooperate,” and I’ve found her suggestions helpful, so here are some of mine, incase they can help anybody else.
I keep a to-do list almost every day, which boils down my most pressing tasks to an easily digestible form. The desire to tick those boxes and complete the list is sometimes stronger than the downward gravitational pull of my body’s limitations. When there’s only one more thing left to do on the list, usually that fact alone is enough to get me to roll up my sleeves and work on it – even if, by that point, I have to go very slowly and take many breaks.
I have a padded lap desk that I use when I’m in bed, to hold my laptop steady and keep it from overheating on the duvet, or burning my skin (temperature sensitivity is sometimes a symptom of mine). However, depending on where my pain is manifesting on any particular day, it may not always be possible to comfortably work in bed – so I move around, from the bed to the couch to the desk to the chair, looking for a few minutes of relief in which I can type a few hundred words or answer a few emails.
On days when my body is rebelling so much that even sitting at my computer feels exhausting and unfeasible, I’ll use the Notes app on my phone, which syncs to my other devices so I can easily copy and paste the text to where it needs to go later when I’m able to. I haven’t needed dictation software as of yet – the way I write and edit is exacting and particular in such a way that I get frustrated at the very thought of not being able to see what I’m writing as I write it – but am keeping it in mind for if/when my level of debilitation progresses enough to make it necessary. On especially bad days, sometimes I’ll write in longhand (I like Blackwing pencils and Moleskine notebooks; they make this process feel glamorous and easy) and then type up the words when I can.
I rely a lot on pre-scheduling. This was always true, due to the way the hypomanic episodes of my early 20s made me want to write, write, write on certain days while depression kept me uselessly crying in bed on other days. Now, I’m more aware than ever that any day – or even hour – when I feel capable of working is worth taking advantage of, if I can. Doesn’t matter if a blog post won’t be published until Thursday; one motivated and limber-fingered hour on Tuesday might be the right time to get it done. I try, as much as I can, not to leave writing tasks until the last minute before the deadline, because I can’t control what my body will be doing at that time.
I take naps as needed, which I’m fortunate to usually be able to do, due to my freelancer lifestyle. A good eye mask is a must-have for mid-day naps. My body pillow helps keep me comfortable while I’m resting. I use the Clock app on my phone to set timers/alarms so I don’t nap the whole day away.
I have a cheap microwaveable heating pad with Velcro straps that can be positioned on sore body parts as needed. I want to amass a collection of these so I don’t have to choose between treating multiple sore body parts on especially bad pain days.
Comfortable clothing is crucial, especially since my fibromyalgia-esque chronic illness sometimes causes flare-ups of hypersensitivity to scratchy or restrictive garments. I like extra-soft tri-blend T-shirts, MeUndies modal underwear and lounge pants, and (when I’m feeling a bit fancier) modal slip dresses and vintage silk robes. I particularly like loungewear that can be re-styled in an outdoors-appropriate way incase I need to dash out for a coffee or some groceries.
I’ve started using a pain tracking app to keep records of my pain’s intensity, locations, triggers, and treatments. I like this one because it’s super customizable; I can, for example, add “orgasms” as an option in the treatments category, or track my anxiety levels alongside my pain levels to see if they match up, or input impending menstruation as a potential trigger.
I’ll sometimes take a mid-day bath when my pain is especially bad, because I find the hot water gives me some relief for a while. Epsom salts are supposedly good for pain relief because of their magnesium content. Some people write in the bath; I haven’t yet figured out a way to do this that feels safe and sustainable for me, since I don’t want to get electronics close to the water and I worry about dropping my notebook into the tub. Maybe one of those wooden bathtub trays is in my future. For now, if I need to continue working while in the bath, I usually use it as reading/research time – my Kindle Oasis is waterproof and I can load it up with PDFs of my choosing, like scientific studies I intend to cite in an article or books I’m assigned to review.
Finally, one of my greatest tools in the fight against pain is cannabis – which, fortunately, is legal where I live. (By the way, why the fuck hasn’t Canada pardoned and freed everyone who is incarcerated on cannabis-related grounds? It’s bullshit with hugely racist motivations and manifestations. Anyway…) Usually weed makes me too spacey/giggly to work properly, so I mostly leave it until the end of the day when all my work is done, but sometimes my pain is bad enough that I need to treat it in order to focus on any task. In that case I’ll try to pick a strain high in CBD and low in THC, use it sparingly, and schedule my day so that I’m doing highly methodical or highly creative tasks while high – never anything requiring a lot of logical analysis or careful phrasing.
That’s what’s working for me right now. I’d love to hear from other chronically ill writers in the comments (or in your own blog posts, if you prefer – send me a link please!) about how they manage their symptoms and get their work done.
Additional resources I’ve found helpful on this topic:
I did shrooms (i.e. magic mushrooms) for the first time last month! Folks were very curious about it on Twitter and Instagram, so I thought I’d put together this little FAQ about my experience…
Q. Why did you do it?
A. I’ve been vaguely curious about psychedelics for a long time, but lots of other drugs in that category have tons of bad potential side effects or are much harder to get your hands on, so shrooms is the one that mostly caught my interest. I also know lots of people who’ve tried this drug, so I was able to amass a wide array of shrooms advice and stories from people I trust, making me feel even more curious about giving ’em a shot.
Q. How did you prepare for the experience?
A. First, I talked to a lot of shrooms-savvy friends about my various fears and apprehensions; their wisdom calmed me down a lot. I did a little research, but not much, because I didn’t want to cloud my experience with preconceptions. I discussed with my friend Brent the logistics of him being my “trip-sitter” (more on that in the next question).
As far as more immediate, right-before-the-trip preparation, I laid out a notebook and pen next to me incase I had any thoughts or ideas worth documenting, placed a can of seltzer next to where I’d be sitting (hydration is important!), and set up a weird monkey documentary I felt like watching.
Q. Did you have a “trip-sitter”?
A. Yes! A long time ago, my friend (and Question Box cohost) Brent offered to take on this role for me if I ever decided to try shrooms, and I was delighted that we managed to line up our schedules and make it happen. I took a bus from New York (where I was staying with my partner) to Philadelphia (where Brent lives), and stayed with him for most of the weekend so we’d have plenty of time for prep and comedown.
Brent has done shrooms a handful of times and is very thoughtful about them, plus we’ve been friends for nearly 5 years so I’m comfortable being weird around him and I trust him deeply. He did a minor dose of shrooms at the same time as me, because he wanted to “be on my level” somewhat while remaining lucid enough to take care of me as needed, and he was truly the perfect companion for this experience. He procured water and snacks for me when I requested them, loaded up videos and songs I asked for, put up with my antics, and pushed me further in the esoteric directions that my various “galaxy brain” thoughts pointed me toward. I really lucked out!
Q. Were you scared/nervous?
A. A little – but I knew I would almost certainly be safe because I was in a safe location with a safe person. Mostly I was afraid the drug would give me severe anxiety or even a panic attack – including possibly from intense dizziness, which sometimes afflicts me when I get too high on weed – but the negative effects of the drug were pretty minimal, actually. I found I was able to “steer” myself away from troubling thoughts and sensations by just moving my focus to something more positive, like listening to songs I like, watching funny videos, and telling stories.
Q. How did you consume the drug (and how much did you consume)?
A. The dose Brent advised for me was 2 grams, which (from what I understand, having looked into it further after the fact) is on the lower end of a medium-sized dose. I think this was the right call; we wanted it to be big enough that I would definitely feel it, but not so big as to be terrifying to li’l ol’ anxious me.
Several of my psychedelic-savvy friends told me that eating the mushrooms can upset your stomach – which, obviously, isn’t great when you’re in a state of intoxication that makes everything feel more vivid – so I imbibed mine in a tea. Brent and I went scavenging in a dollar store for a mesh tea infuser, and then he weighed out 2 grams on a kitchen scale and ground it up in what appeared to be a weed grinder. He then put that in the infuser and steeped it for 12+ minutes in boiling water along with 2 decaf orange tea bags and some lemon juice and honey. I thought it would taste gross but it was actually delicious and easy to drink.
Q. What are some do’s and don’ts that you learned?
A. I’m no expert, but I know that mindset and setting have a big effect on what kind of trip you’ll have (more on that in the next question). It would be a bad idea to take shrooms while in a less-than-good mood, or in a location that makes you feel uncomfortable or anxious. It helped that I knew Brent would’ve been more than willing to call the whole thing off if my mental state had felt off-kilter, but luckily it didn’t.
Brent also told me that singing helps a lot if you ever feel yourself starting to go off the rails during a trip. I found this to be very true: singing (or even, in some cases, playing the piano) brought me back to a calm, happy place, time and time again. I also drank water pretty continuously throughout my trip and adopted the mantra “Breathe and water! Breathe and water!” which helped immensely when I started to feel a bit panicky or dizzy.
Q. What was your mindset going in, and how did that affect your experience?
A. It was a chill Saturday. Brent and I had just gone for brunch with some pals, and then walked around in the wintry sunshine for a bit. I was feeling happy and relaxed. I wouldn’t recommend tripping when that’s not the case!
A mid-trip giggle session.
Q. What did it feel like?
A. The main thing I noticed, feelings-wise, was a vast heightening of emotion. I’m already an extremely emotional person so this was a bit disorienting and overwhelming at times. At the peak of the trip, I found myself oscillating wildly back and forth between laughing hysterically and weeping inconsolably. Sometimes I would have a thought about something I wanted to say and be too overcome with emotion about it to even get the words out.
Speaking of words: I also got very talkative. Brent and I found this highly amusing because, in our friendship, normally he is the one who rambles on and on while I listen (and I say that in the most affectionate way possible)! It felt like my thoughts were coming much, much faster than they normally do, to the point that I would often interrupt myself several times a sentence to go on some tangent that felt very important at the time. I told stories, made jokes and puns, sang lines from musical theatre songs that our conversation reminded me of, and just generally said aloud every thought that popped into my head. As someone who is shy and quiet in many social situations, this felt quite odd!
After a certain point in the trip, I also developed a strong compulsion to dance or march around almost constantly – so I did, often while continuing to carry on a conversation with Brent about completely unrelated stuff. Shout-out to him for remaining completely cool and calm while I did ballet in his living room.
One more observation worth noting: my chronic pain, which has otherwise been quite prominent lately, totally vanished for the duration of my trip. I didn’t notice it or think about it at all, not even once. Wild.
Q. How did it change your perceptions of things around you?
A. So, the thing that surprised me most about shrooms was that it didn’t make me less aware of what was going on around me, like weed and booze often can – it made me more aware of everything. I “got” every joke or reference I would normally get while sober, I could perceive with normal or slightly heightened acuity the emotional states of the people I was talking to (just Brent and, via text, my partner mb), and I was more than able to follow along with songs/videos/movies/conversations.
I definitely noticed some weird visual effects, but they weren’t really at the level of what one might call hallucinations or visual distortions. For example: at one point I thought I saw a cat running around under Brent’s chair in my peripheral vision; a few seconds later, I thought that the rumpled cardigan lying next to me on the bed looked like a live rat about to attack me (but I was also conscious that it was still a cardigan and I was actually safe), and once I thought it looked like Brent’s shirt was attached to a bike propped against a wall several feet behind him. I was very aware at all times that any distortions in my perception were due to the drug and weren’t real, which I gather isn’t always the case when you’re on shrooms.
Q. How similar are shrooms to other drugs you’ve tried?
A. The only thing I can really compare it to – based on this one experience – is that it was like being on a really strong weed strain and a big dose of caffeine simultaneously. I have never personally taken a combination like that, but it sounds about right!
The mental agility was the main thing that set shrooms apart from other drugs for me. On weed and booze, I often feel that my thoughts and reactions are slowed down or muffled; not so with shrooms.
Q. Did you experience any epiphanies?
A. Not really. A few times, I observed that I was feeling like a different kind of person (either like I’d momentarily taken on the attributes of a specific friend, or like I was accessing “bro-y” or graceful or juvenile parts of my personality) and Brent prompted me to reflect on what that meant about my own identity – its pieces, its composition, its potential artifice – but I felt hesitant to wade into such upsettingly philosophical waters. Maybe next time.
My chattiness and impulses toward dancing and marching made me wonder if it might be good for me to incorporate more of those behaviors into my everyday life, but I’m still pondering what that might look like for me.
Q. What was your favorite part of the experience?
A. Making puns and terrible musical theatre jokes with Brent was the most fun part of the trip for me. My brain felt really sharp and quick, so I was even more inclined toward the type of silly wordplay we get into whenever we’re together – and it was fun seeing him crack up so hard at my absurd antics.
Q. What was your least favorite part of the experience?
A. Toward the beginning of the trip, when the effects were only just starting to set in, I got a weird, heavy, tingly feeling all over my body, kind of like when your leg falls asleep, but everywhere. It was accompanied by slight dizziness and anxiety. I got through it by continually reminding myself to breathe and drink water, and things got better from there.
Q. How long did the effects last?
A. I started to feel “normal-ish” after about 4 hours, but it took another 3-4 hours after that for me to return to total normality. In that “still slightly high” period, I was still inclined to constant joking, giggling, and physical activity, but it felt more like something I had control over.
Q. Can you really do shrooms safely if you have mental illness(es)?
A. Numerous people have asked me this and I don’t think I’m ever going to be a better advisor on this topic than your doctor/therapist. I don’t know much about the mechanisms of shrooms’ potential negative effects (psychosis, panic, etc.) – sorry!
I was fortunate that – as I described above – I was in good spirits at the time of my trip, and had built a morning to precede it that was calm and cheerful. My mental and physical health issues weren’t especially flaring up at the time and I was totally fine. I’ve heard some other depressed, drug-knowledgeable people say that they wouldn’t take shrooms if they were having an active depressive episode, and I think that’s good advice – this drug will tend to amplify whatever’s already going on for you emotionally.
Q. How else did you keep yourself safe during your trip?
A. I gave Brent the phone number of my partner mb, and vice versa, so that they could stay in touch if anything bad happened to me. (These are two of the people I trust most in the world.) Multiple other people also knew where I was and what I was doing. I drank water continuously all day. Crucially, I put my phone into a mode that would prevent me from (easily) accessing social media sites and my email, because – knowing how I typically behave when I’m intoxicated – I figured I might have the impulse to write some silly stuff online, and I wanted to keep that from happening if possible!
Q. Is there anything you would do differently if you could do it over again?
A. The literal only thing I can think of: I was keeping notes in a notebook, and I wish I had been typing them instead. My thoughts and ideas were coming very fast, and there’s just no way I could record them all longhand. Creative inspiration is one of the main reasons I’m interested in drugs in general, but they only help with that if you’re able to record your ideas as they come!
At one point, Brent offered to leave me alone for a while, because (according to him, and I’m paraphrasing here) some of your best and deepest insights can come when you have little to no external stimulus to distract you from your own inner world. I was ultimately too scared and asked him to stay with me instead, because the thought of him leaving made me feel panicky in a way that’s hard to describe – like without him, I would get sucked into a whirlpool or fall off a cliff into my own psyche. I would imagine that I will spend some time alone with my thoughts the next time I trip, though, if just to see what that’s like.
Q. Could you/would you/did you have sex on shrooms?
A. In this case, I did not, because me and Brent are not that type of friend!
Leading up to my trip, I asked many people for their shroom-sex thoughts and experiences – including Ashley Manta, the eminent sex-and-drugs expert. One pal of mine (the boy formerly known as my “rope bondage beau,” who I’m still friends with) told me that he’s had sex on shrooms and it was amazing, but I think everybody else said some version of, “You won’t even be thinking about sex!” or “You won’t be able to have sex!”
When I took stock of the trip in the days afterward, one thing that stuck out to me was that – as far as I can remember – I literally did not think about sex one time all day… which, as you can imagine, is quite unusual for someone like me! I am definitely interested in trying sex or masturbation on shrooms, because I think it would be fascinating and strange, but I think I would have to set things up beforehand (lube, toys, condoms, etc.) so that I would even remember to attempt sex. It felt like there was so much more pressing stuff to do and say and think about!
Q. Were there any lingering effects?
A. I had a sort of hangover-esque feeling for a few hours, plus some pronounced fatigue/sleepiness that I don’t normally get from hangovers – but other than that, not really.
Q. Would you do it again?
A. Yes! I semi-accidentally acquired way more of the drug than I actually needed, so I have enough left for probably 2-4 more trips. I am very curious about tripping alone, as well as tripping when I’m with my (ideally sober) partner – I think they would find my giggliness and sensitivity amusing in that state, being a sadisticdaddy dom and all!
Have you ever tried shrooms? What was your experience?
Once again this year, I kept a sex spreadsheet – and once again, I have lots of stats to share! Gather ’round and let me tell you about my 2019 sex life…
Overview
In 2019, I had partnered sex 204 times.
That works out to an average of 17 times per month, 3.92 times per week, and 0.56 times per day.
I had 174 orgasms from partnered sex (not including phone sex, which has its own section below).
My partners had a total of 211 orgasms from sex with me.
An incomplete list, in alphabetical order, of the kink activities I incorporated into partnered sex this year: bimboification, biting, bondage, bootblacking, choking/gagging, cock and ball torture, DD/lg roleplay, electrostimulation, face-slapping, financial domination/sugar dating (simulated), forced feminization/gender play, hypnosis, impregnation (simulated), intoxication, knife play, medical roleplay, pegging, public play, punching, rimming/analingus, roleplay, sadomasochism, scratching, sensory deprivation, sleepy sex, spanking, squirting, trampling, watersports, wax play.
Compared to last year…
I had 38.8% more sex.
I had an orgasm in 85.3% of the sex I had, versus 98% last year. A large part of that is because I’ve been leaning more toward the ace end of the spectrum and becoming more comfortable with respecting my body’s wishes when it doesn’t feel like receiving genital touch.
My partners’ collective orgasm rate with me was 103.4%, ’cause I’m a sex genius, I guess.
100% of my partners this year were non-binary people, making this the first year since 2010 that I’ve had zero sex with cis men. Wow.
One of my partners is 1.33 years older than me while the other is 8.42 years older than me, so they are, on average, 4.88 years older. The trend of me fucking predominantly or exclusively people older than me has continued for my entire adult sex life.
I met my 2 partners on Twitter and at our mutual workplace, respectively, which makes me feel pretty bleak about online dating.
Locations
I had sex in a total of 9 different locations this year, versus 12 last year.
These included: my current apartment in downtown Toronto, my old apartment in the west end of Toronto, my partner’s apartment in Manhattan, a sex club, and 5 hotels (2 in New York, 1 in Montreal, 1 in Portland, 1 in Toronto).
The locations likeliest to facilitate orgasm for me were the Heathman Hotel in Portland (100%), my current apartment (94.2%), and my old apartment (92.1%), continuing the pattern of me orgasming most easily in locations that make me feel comfortable. (Also locations where I have easy access to weed.)
Of all the cities I had sex in this year, I was the most orgasmic in Portland (100%) and the least orgasmic in Montreal (68.8%). My hometown of Toronto’s orgasm rate was 91.6%.
Highs and lows
My most sexually active month was August (31 times) because I was with my partner for the longest stretches of time that month (totaling 14 days).
My least sexually active months were February, May, and June (all tied at 10 times) because those trips were shorter (4-5 days each) and also, in the case of those latter months, I was prepping for two moves and was very stressed and busy.
The day on which I had the most sex was June 22nd, at 5 times. I have no explanation for this silliness.
The most orgasms I had in a partnered sex session was 2, which happened 5 times.
Correlations
The sex acts most correlated with orgasm for me were using a vibrator and a dildo together (100 times), receiving oral sex sans penetration (25), and using a vibe while being fingerbanged (23).
Less common ways I got off were receiving oral sex while being fingerbanged (14 times), receiving oral sex while being fucked with a dildo (5), and using a vibrator during PIV (2).
The main thing that sticks out to me about these numbers is that I came more often from oral sex this year than any year since about ~2013 (wasn’t keeping a spreadsheet back then!) because of being with someone skilled and attentive for a long enough time that they could learn my body.
My most-used dildos with partners were the VixSkin Bandit (34 times), Njoy Eleven (25), and Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble (19). It’s worth noting here that my partner and I each own our own Bandits and Double Troubles, so these dildos get a lot of use partly because it’s convenient that we don’t have to transport them on every trip we take to see each other.
My most-used kink toys with partners were my Weal & Breech purpleheart mallet (7 times), a candle for wax play (6), and my Weal & Breech purpleheart truncheon (6).
Some “pervertibles” that got used a fair bit this year were tweezers (for sadomasochism), high heels (for shoe worship and trampling), ice cubes (for temperature play), knives (for knife play), and Tarina Tarantino heart necklaces (for hypnosis).
Phone sex
In 2019, I had phone sex 246 times. (This was the first year that I kept track of this, so I don’t have any stats from previous years to compare it to, unfortunately.)
That works out to an average of 20.5 times per month, 4.7 times per week, and 0.67 times per day.
That means phone sex was 54.7% of my sex life this year.
I had 241 orgasms from phone sex. In cases where we had phone sex and I didn’t come, the reason was almost always that I was falling asleep. (Sometimes we stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning on these calls!)
The total amount of sex sessions I had this year (IRL sex + phone sex) was 450.
That works out to an average of 37.5 times per month, 8.65 times per week, and 1.23 times per day. Yeesh.
Did you keep a record of your sex life this year? What were your most interesting findings?
One of the weirdest things about being a sex writer is the cognitive dissonance between the sexual person your readers think you are and the sexual person you actually are.
On the day of my appointment, I took all my usual safety measures (mask, hand sanitizer, obsessive hand-washing), and took an Uber to the studio. The tattooing stations were appropriately socially distanced, and the few other people present were all wearing masks the entire time. Laura wiped down my phone and Kindle to sanitize them when I arrived, so I could use them safely while getting tattooed. We discussed layouts and colors a bit, settled on the design I wanted, and then started the inking process.
