12 Days of Girly Juice: 6 Journal Entries

It was a big year for self-reflection and forward motion! Here’s some of the sexual and romantic events of my year, summed up in journal entries…

 

January 31st, 2015

I have a bad habit of blaming my relative lack of suitors on the way I look, when deeply and truly I know that the main reason for it is that I’m shy and don’t go out very often. I know plenty of women who are chubby or otherwise less than conventionally perfect-looking but who nonetheless capture the attention of men regularly, and without exception these women are outgoing, socially active, warm and friendly. I think in some ways I cling to weight loss as a magic pill for loneliness because I believe it would actually be easier to lose 40 pounds than to ditch my shyness. How silly.

 

April 8th, 2015

When _______ and I were in Montreal, at one point we talked about how I wish I had a fuckbuddy who I actually trusted and liked, and she asked me if there was anyone in my life who I would want to have sex with. I said ____ and ___. It’s not so much that I’m intensely attracted to either of them but more that I know them, feel safe with them, feel respected by them, and find them cute. It’s weird that when I said it, I thought there was literally zero chance of anything happening with either of them, but now one of them is actively flirting with me. It feels like the universe heard what I said and got the wheels turning for me.

 

April 20th, 2015

It has been literal YEARS since I have had a CRUSH on someone in the way that I would now consider a baseline prerequisite for entering into a relationship. The kind of crush that hits you without any effort on your part to cultivate it – just, BAM, DAMN, that person is cute, and you get blushy and giggly whenever you see them, and you find yourself going out of your way and making excuses to be around them, and you notice and fixate on all their many good qualities, and you are absolutely lit up by their presence or even the briefest of online correspondence with them.

I haven’t really felt that way about anybody in the past 5 years, and I don’t know why. Am I not getting out enough or meeting enough people? Am I suppressing any romantic feelings out of self-protection, insecurity, or fear of rejection? Have I internalized conventional attractiveness standards to an unhealthy degree? Am I on the asexuality spectrum? Who the hell knows?!

 

August 31st, 2015

I have been thinking a lot lately about my view of men/boys and how radically it has changed over the past few years. I used to be so distrustful of them, concerned that all they wanted from women was sex, that they were cold and calculating and unemotional and unloving. I was scared of their aggression and forwardness, their ability and willingness to identify a desire and then just pursue it. And penises made me nervous, those hard, unyielding outcroppings of flesh that seemed to demand attention and respect and reverence, wanting just to plough into a vagina with no attention paid to that vagina’s readiness or the feelings of its owner.

Obviously not all of those qualities are forgivable, but certainly not all men behave or think that way, and some of those qualities that scared me are now things I treasure in men. I admire their forwardness, how they’ll often cut straight to the chase when there’s something they want. I love that they’re easier to read than women. I love that they appreciate skills and competence and intelligence and humor; the stereotype that men only care about women’s looks is so not true.

And for all my teenage fretting about how men would be sexually selfish, that hasn’t been my experience AT ALL. ______ and my current trio of beaux have ALL been (or at least claimed to be) very concerned with their partners’ pleasure, to the point that getting a partner off makes up a significant portion of their enjoyment of sex. And I have met many men on the internet who say they feel this way too.

 

September 21st, 2015

I want to remember always how _____ looked at me and said, “I think you’re nervous, and you have no reason to be,” and I agreed that yeah I was nervous, because he’s cooler and more famous than me (“More famous? Maybe. Cooler? Not so much… You’re way cooler than I was at your age”) and I said, “I’m fond of you,” and he said, “I’m fond of you too!”

I want to remember always that I am worthy of having, and capable of capturing, the attention of men who I not only LIKE but who I initially perceive as being “out of my league” in one way or another: too cute, too cool, too mature, too internet-famous, too conventionally attractive, too sexually experienced to want someone like me.

This year I’ve been pursued by ___, ____, ______ & _____, all of whom are highly “cool” and desirable in their respective social spheres – even though they’re all total fucking nerds. Aww.

 

November 11th, 2015

If I have sex with one more new person before the year is out – and it seems likely that I will – then I will have tripled my previous number of sexual partners in 2015. It feels a bit like a dam has burst; finally, a torrential downpour of people who want to fuck me. I’m still not having nearly as much sex as a lot of people in my communities seem to be, or as I would like to be, but it feels like a lot. Although, I wish that I had had a repeat encounter with at least one of the people I fucked this year. (____ barely counts; that threesome was, by _______’s own admission, mostly about her and me.) I like when you’ve banged a person a few times and you get to know each other’s bodies and tastes. I like that better than firsts.

12 Days of Girly Juice: 7 Bangin’ Selfies

Earlier this year, I had Piph edit one of my posts. There was a part in it where I said, “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t very coherent, but…”

Piph was absolutely adamant when she gave me feedback. “NEVER APOLOGIZE,” she wrote. And since she’s a badass, irreverent blogger who knows what she’s talking about, I’ve tried to take her advice.

So I’m going to present to you my 7 favorite selfies I took this year – without spouting excuses about why my face is all over the damn internet. It’s my story to tell the way I want to tell it. So here we go.

imageI took this on the night of the Feminist Porn Awards, which, incidentally, was also the first night I ever showed my face on the internet in connection with my Girly Juice identity. I just felt soooo damn pretty that night that I wanted to show myself off. I commanded my Twitter followers to tell me how “fucking foxy” I looked if they spotted me at the awards, and someone actually did! Aww.

This night also marked the birth of the phrase “femme queen mode,” which is what I call it when I put tonnnns of effort into my makeup and feel like a Head Beauty in Charge. Seriously, look at dat fancy eyeshadow…

imageThis was taken in Portland, outside Voodoo Doughnut. I had bought this ridiculous cotton candy-flavored donut mostly because it was turquoise and pink – which, as you may have noticed if you’ve ever looked at this freakin’ website, are my favorite colors. I was rocking pink tinted lip balm and my blue glasses, prompting Piph to announce, “Your donut matches your face!” So, a selfie seemed necessary, of course.

imageI took this first thing in the morning, the day I was gonna get my tattoo. The light was soft and pretty outside my room, and I felt like commemorating my lower belly’s last day as unmarked flesh. I love this photo because it reminds me that I can look and feel sexy even though I have love handles and a Buddha belly.

It also makes me smile that I chose to wear a red T-shirt specifically because I knew I was getting a red tattoo. Sartorial geekery forever!

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I took this with Bex and Penny just moments after we reunited at JFK airport in September. Our smiles really say it all: I adore these dorks. Friendship was a central theme of 2015 for me, and I’m so glad that lots of those happy moments were photographically documented.

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Speaking of friendship… Here’s me and Georgia eating a pizza that we tempted a boy to buy for us by sending him nude pictures and a short video of us making out. Industrious femmes 2015! We had been naked most of the evening; she only put her shirt back on so as to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. We’re ridiculous.

 

imageYEESH, my makeup was on point this night. I got all dolled up for the Twilight edition of Drunk Feminist Films. Trying to lean into the vampire theme, I did a goth-y grey and black smoky eye and a blood-red lip.

Something I noticed this year was that I’m more inclined to get babed up for other women than I am for men. I adore men and there are lots of them who I want to impress, but let’s be real: most of them don’t appreciate great eyeshadow blending or a flawlessly crisp lipstick application. Femme beauty rituals are often cut down as being heteronormative attention-seeking behaviors, but the truth is, I do makeup to impress myself and other ladies, not dudes!

imageFunny how you can have good body image days and bad body image days, even as your body stays exactly the same. This was definitely a “loving my body” day. One of the main benefits of my weight gain over the last year is that my tits are way more glorious now than they used to be. Yay!

Also, can we talk about my phone case?! It’s from Redbubble and I love it unimaginable amounts. I used the heart-eyes emoji so much in 2015 that it grew to be like a positive mantra, and a symbol of the kind of attitude I want to cultivate toward everything in my life. It’s also lovely to have a little heart-eyed dude staring back at you in every mirror, as if to say: “What a BABE you are!!”

What were your fave selfies you took in 2015, my loves?

My Dream Partner (At Least, Right Now)

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He’s so damn smart. He knows all my big words and even teaches me some new ones. His eyes sparkle with intelligence. He gets all my references and odd turns of phrase because he’s whip-smart, quick and responsive.

He’s funny as hell. Makes me laugh so hard I can’t breathe. Comes up with dumb puns to impress me, and high-fives me when I pun back at him. His celebrity impressions are spot-on and he’ll valiantly try even ones he’s not confident about because he wants to make me laugh. Sometimes I say something that strikes him as so funny he can’t help but dissolve into giggles, gasping for air, eyes squeezed shut.

He smells amazingly good. I can nuzzle my nose into his chest, inhale deeply and immediately feel at home and comforted. He lends me a shirt he’s worn and I wear it all day and feel swaddled in sexiness and sweetness.

He’s a total kinky perv like me but his consent ethics trump everything and always come first. He’s into long conversations about likes and dislikes, and debriefs while we cuddle naked after trying something new. He values safewords, safe-signals, 1-to-10 scales, check-ins. He only wants to do things we’re both excited about.

He’s a gentle kisser and cuddler but a rough fuck. He pins me down, grips my wrists above my head, manipulates me like a doll. He growls things in my ear that make me dripping wet and then follows through on them. He values the clit, understands its fragility and what it likes, but can also pound the fuck out of my G-spot with fingers or cock or toys. He’s hungry to make me come, to challenge me and himself, to change things up, but still fall back on old faithfuls. He’s quick with a condom and a bottle of lube and can accomplish both while biting my neck, grinding a thigh against my pussy and announcing in salient detail what he’s about to do to me.

He’s tender and affectionate. An arm around my waist while we walk in public. Gently stroking my hair while we lie on the couch watching Netflix. Offering me an arm to cling to, like an old-fashioned gentleman. A quick kiss on the top of my head or the back of my shoulder whenever he feels like it. Long aimless cuddle sessions.

He’s romantically and sexually adventurous, but deeply rooted. He sees no reason we shouldn’t explore, diversify, experiment with other people, but his first priority is always making sure I feel safe, cared for and valued. His heart leans monogamous while his brain excitedly explores other avenues with me.

His creative vocation (whatever it is) wows me every time, even as it’s old hat to him. His talent is so singular and sexy it makes me want to swoon and kiss him hard. And in turn he’s in awe of my talents, respects and supports them, thinks I’m the cleverest Head Bitch in Charge.

He plays no games. He says what he means. He acts like he likes me, because he does. His word is dependable and binding; what he says he’ll do, he does.

He’s so cute, it boggles my mind. I look at him in a grey sleep T-shirt or a lavender button-down or a zipped leather jacket and just think about how much I want to kiss that sweet face or get it between my thighs. He still gives me butterflies whenever he walks into a room, or shows up wherever we’re meeting for a date.

His written communiqué is on point. His sexts are delicious. His romantic emails are worth printing out and rereading late at night. He writes me dorky notes on post-its stuck to the sides of takeout containers or the inside covers of borrowed books. He’s all about words of affirmation, like me, and the words we exchange are affirming as hell.

Mainly what I remember when we’re apart is how he makes me feel. That’s more consequential than how he looks, how he fucks, how he talks. The very thought of him makes me giggly and swoony, but I also feel safe and affirmed in his presence. He’s “similar enough to me to make me feel comfortable, and different enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.” I want us to challenge and comfort and comfort and challenge each other for as long as we possibly can.

Permission to Be Gross: 7 Deeply Unsexy Confessions

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Possibly the worst selfie I have ever taken.

I imagine it’s exhausting to be a flight attendant, or a car show model, or any other type of person who has to smile and be pleasant for hours at a time. Being that personable takes tons of energy, and I admire the work that goes into it.

In much the same way, working in the sex-positive field often comes with expectations that you will be “sexy” all the time. I feel a lot of pressure, in both my personal and my professional interactions, to put on a foxy façade even when I don’t feel so foxy.

While I love and admire women who are unafraid to be gross and strange – like Amy Poehler, who famously responded to a criticism of her “unladylike” comedy by snarling, “I don’t fucking care if you like it” – that’s just not me. I don’t have that kind of confidence, I guess. Feeling gross and unattractive makes me feel… well, gross and unattractive.

But I’d like to get more comfortable with that feeling, so that maybe it doesn’t bother me so much when it comes up in the future. So here are 7 very unsexy things about me, posted here with intense vulnerability and blushing and nail-biting but for good reasons. I encourage you to make your own list!

 

1. While I mostly like the way my vag smells and tastes, certain foods affect it in kind of gross ways. Eating sushi – one of my favorite foods! – gives it that strong “fishy” flavor that 1990s hack stand-up comedians so often joked about. I avoid sushi before dates for this reason…

2. I have psoriasis, a hereditary skin condition. Lucky for me, mine is fairly mild. I have it on my scalp, ears, underarms, and a random spot in between my eyebrows (why?!). I use a couple of prescription creams and a tar-based shampoo to keep it under control, but sometimes I’m still flaky/itchy. It ain’t cute.

3. I have a tendency to obsess over people I get romantically and/or sexually involved with. I’m able to keep it under wraps for the most part, so these people typically don’t know I’m thinking about them a lot or looking at their social media pages on the daily, but internally it is a problem and I wish I could fixate less. I think it’s linked to my anxiety.

4. I used to be really sexually selfish and sometimes I still am. I like giving pleasure, but I often don’t unless specifically told/asked to, either because I’m too anxious to initiate it or it just doesn’t occur to me because I’m distracted by my own pleasure. I’m working on it! I want to give more BJs, y’all!

5. I strongly dislike my body most of the time, despite being an advocate of self-love and self-acceptance.

6. I don’t eat well enough or get enough exercise, and I make excuses about both of those things constantly.

7. Sometimes I worry that a lot of my submissive sexual identity actually just stems from sexual uncertainty and insecurity. When you’re paralyzed in fear and worried about what your bedfellow thinks of you, it can be easier to just give up control and let them boss you around; at least then you can feel like you’re “doing something right” instead of fucking up spectacularly.

 

Are there any “gross” or “unattractive” things about you that you’re too embarrassed to talk about? Want to share? It’s kinda cathartic, I promise…

What’s In My Bag: Fall 2015

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Do you ever look through the contents of your bag and just think, “This really sums up my entire personality/life”? I do that on the regular, but today was a particularly great example.

I recently bought this Zatchels shoulder bag, and while it doesn’t fit the zillions of items I would like it to, it can still hold a good amount of mostly-flat stuff. And it’s so damn cute that I don’t mind its low capacity too much.

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Today the bag contained (clockwise from top-centre):

  • My journal, without which I rarely leave the house. I always bring this with me when I go to work (for epic emotional unpacking on my break-time) or when I’m going to be sitting and waiting anywhere for a while (like on the streetcar or at the doctor’s office). Writing about my life helps me process its events, figure shit out and decide what I want to do next.
  • My iPad mini. This was one of those purchases that I thought I “didn’t really need,” but then I’ve ended up using it for soooo many different things. I often bring it with me when I interview folks for articles I’m writing, so as to record our conversations; I also listen to music on it all day at work, take notes in Evernote on it at school, watch movies on it when I’m bored, and so much more. It’s my constant companion and my surrogate brain!
  • My iPhone earbuds. Crucial. What would life be without music and podcasts?! I love that these earbuds have a little remote on them, so I don’t have to take my phone out of my pocket to pause the audio or adjust the volume. Brilliant.
  • My wallet, which is by Danier Leather. It’s so simple and classic and sexy. You’ve gotta carry a wallet so it might as well be one you like the look of!
  • Maybelline Creamy Matte lipstick in “Rich Ruby.” This isn’t even available in Canada yet so I had to order it online, but it was worth it. It is such a perfect red, and the formula really stays put on my lips without being too drying. Best!
  • My beloved We-Vibe Tango. Normally this would be by my bedside, but I packed it in here a few days ago because I thought I might be having sex that night and wanted to be prepared. The sex didn’t pan out after all, but it’s still nice to have a good vibrator on hand for all eventualities…
  • Lifestyles Tuxedo condoms. I find these hilarious because they’re black and supposedly for “formal occasions.” They also get pretty good reviews, sensation-wise, from both internet commentators and my ex-boyfriend.
  • Junior Mints. I practically fell asleep multiple times at my desk today while at work, and bought these to pep me up. They worked, but they also made my stomach hurt. Sad trombone.
  • Extra pen + pencil. A writer is always prepared!

What do you keep in your bag on the regular?