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I Wear My Heart on My Belly: My First Tattoo!

Kate Sloan

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Way back in February 2015, I wrote this in my journal:

I want to get a tattoo this year. Maybe a heart on my lower belly. Something meaningful and sweet and pretty.

Seven months later, I finally made it happen: my external G-spot is now emblazoned with a red heart for all time. And I love it so much.

The day before getting inked, I did a marathon journaling session where I unpacked all the reasons, symbols and meanings behind this tattoo, to make sure that I really, really wanted it. And I did. Below, basically unedited, is that journal entry.

 

 

My “external G-spot” is an erogenous zone I discovered when I was with [my ex]. It likes firm pressure, especially when I’ve just had an orgasm. I wrote a blog post about this spot earlier this year, and for the post photo, I drew a red heart over the spot as a visual guide for readers. But I grew to like it so much after that that I wanted it tattooed.

I liked the idea of having a small tattoo there as a sort of “press here!” guide for sexual partners, and I toyed with the idea of making it a flower or even a 3D-looking button of some kind, but I just kept coming back to that red heart.

I’ve been made fun of by some friends for feeling such a deep connection to the symbol of the heart. It’s a little obvious, like saying your favorite band is the Beatles. But I just love it. It feels peaceful and encouraging and juicy and joyful and optimistic and romantic. It reminds me of first loves, first kisses, exciting crushes, youthful optimism about love. Hearts show up in my gratitude lists and happy journal entries a lot; drawing them in the margins of a notebook is like a little ritual that affirms: thank you, universe, for this blessing. I see it and I appreciate it and I love you.

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Having a heart in this particular spot would symbolize a number of different things. Like: I love my sexuality, my desires, my pleasure. I love my femininity, my vulva, my powerful babeliness. I love my belly, that little dip where it meets my mons, my chubbiness, my Venus de Milo-esque voluptuous foxiness.

Also, in the sense that the tattoo idea originated with me wanting it half-jokingly as a visual aid for partners, it is sort of an ode to sexual assertiveness and a reminder to always ask for what I want and to not be afraid to be specific, bossy, and slightly selfish in bed. It is okay to want things and to want a partner who will give you those things!

It’s difficult to be entirely coherent about this, I’m finding. But something just feels viscerally right about having a red heart at the literal centre and sexual centre and fertility centre of my body. As if to say: this body, this life, is dedicated to love. Love is at the centre of it, now and forever.

2015 feels like the right year for this heart to be branded on me. I’m 23: a woman, but still becoming an adult. Started on a trajectory that seems it’ll take me where I want to go, but unsure where that is, exactly. This has been SUCH a big year for me in terms of professional development, mental and emotional healing, relationship upheaval, gaining romantic and sexual confidence, and so much more, and it feels right to commemorate that.

I used to have a lot more tattoo ideas… Symbols and illustrations and phrases that I found meaningful at the time. But I can’t think of one more enduring and timeless than a red heart. I will always be committed to love and to self-love. And even if one day I’m not, it’ll always be something of which I ought to be reminded. Love is the most important, powerful touchstone, the fuel of my life, my guidepost and beacon and motivation. I want it on me, tangibly, visibly.

I was considering getting said tattoo on my left ring finger – a self-love reminder in the very place where a conventional symbol of love would go if I was engaged or married. But more and more things felt wrong about that, the more that I considered it. Finger tattoos fade more quickly; they are more difficult to conceal, should I ever need to; and I think it might take up weird psychic space if I were to have a pre-existing symbol in a place where a love symbol ought to go. That’s not to say I definitely intend to get engaged or married, but it feels sacred and proper to reserve that real estate on my finger, just incase. Hold space for what you want and the universe is likelier to deliver it.

Besides which: the origin of all the love and romance in my body feels intuitively much closer to my belly than it does to my finger.

 

Do you have any tattoos? What do they mean to you?

What Do You Put On Your Business Cards When You Have an Alter-Ego?

Kate Sloan

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Oh, business cards. How I love thee.

You may be impractical in this modern, paperless age. You may be expensive to print and difficult to design. You may languish on my desk in boxes, largely untouched, because I so rarely have occasion to hand you out.

And yet, still, I love you.

Recently I got annoyed with my old biz cards because I noticed they didn’t have my Twitter handle on them. I think your Twitter handle is one of the only pieces of information people will ever use when you hand them a business card, at least in web-based industries like the one I work in. So it seemed like a massive oversight that my card was missing mine.

I typed “business card” into Pinterest’s search box and pored over the results for design inspiration. I sketched out possible designs on index cards, because I am a dork. Then I opened up InDesign and Photoshop and got down to business (cards).

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I’d had the idea to make my card reversible. The upper-left corner would list all my “real-life identity” details, like my journalism portfolio website, vanilla Twitter handle, and phone number. If you spun the card 180 degrees, the new upper-left corner would have all my Girly Juice deets: my blog URL, email, Twitter, and so on.

While I keep those two identities staunchly separate on the interwebz, most people I meet in real life will find out about my sex blogging sooner or later. So I don’t mind handing out a card that “outs” me as a loquacious, lascivious loudmouth.

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The back of the card bears a circle filled with sex-related words and phrases. This helps unify my sex journalism with my sex blogging, while pointing out some areas within sexuality that are of particular interest to me: feminism, gender, body image, masturbation, sex toys, and so on.

My old business card design had a big silhouette of a rabbit vibrator on the back. I liked it, but I got feedback from some vanilla friends and colleagues that they sometimes felt embarrassed if they opened up their wallet in public and someone got a glimpse of my card in there. So I decided to go with a (slightly) more low-key design this time around.

I designed the card in my blog’s colors, which are also my favorite colors: bright turquoise and hot pink. When they were printed (by VistaPrint, if you’re wondering), the pink came out darker than it looked in my original design – it’s more of a deep fuchsia. But I don’t mind; I still think it looks pretty rad.

Sex-industry peeps: how do you deal with the issue of business cards? Do you keep separate ones for your vanilla life and your sexy life, or do you combine them somehow? Do you even use business cards at all? I’d love to geek out about ’em with you in the comments section!

 

10 Reasons Why Sex-Positive Friendship is Important

Kate Sloan
L to R: Reenie, Aerie, Bex, Penny, Kate, Epiphora, GJ
L to R: Reenie, Aerie, Bex, Penny, Kate, Epiphora, me!

 

#DildoHoliday is decidedly over, and dildrop is real.

I miss the beautiful house we stayed in. I miss the delicious group meals. I miss the mid-day masturbation breaks.

But mostly, I miss my friends.

When my dad was driving me to the airport to depart for Portland, he asked me, “Won’t it be weird to stay in a house with strangers?” but that’s not how I felt at all. These people weren’t strangers; I’d been corresponding with them on Twitter and other mediums for years. I already knew them better than I know most of the acquaintances I regularly see at home in Toronto: the guy who owns my favorite café, the distant classmates in some of my courses, the boys in my brother’s rock band.

I have sex-positive friends “in real life” as well, but #DildoHoliday really showed me just how important it is to have friends who are on the same page as you in as many ways as possible. There’s comfort and strength in that, for all of us, I think. Here are 10 reasons why sex-positive friendship is so valuable and crucial…

1. There’s no sexual shame. With my deeply sex-positive friends, I can talk about my kinks – even the ones I consider weird, taboo, or potentially unethical – and there’s no shame associated with it, from me or from my friends. If someone mentions fantasizing about exhibitionism or incest or watersports, no one even bats an eye. The most reaction you might get is something like, “Cool! Sounds fun!” or “Interesting! How’d you get into that?”

2. There’s no body shame, either. Body-positivity and sex-positivity are two different concepts with two different communities, but there’s a lot of overlap; most of my friends in each category also fall into the other. Being a chubby lady, I sometimes feel weird about getting naked (or even just exposing “problem areas” of my body) around people who I think might judge me; that’s not an issue with my body-positive pals. I can also eat what I want without worrying about how my food choices are being perceived. And in seeing all the carefree, happy body acceptance exhibited by my friends, I can get a little closer to that goal myself.

3. We don’t have to explain ourselves. Yeah, I own a lot of sex toys. Yeah, I sometimes post nudes on the internet. Yeah, I’m ideally looking for a kinky, non-monogamous person to be my next beau. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, and my sex-positive friends understand that without having to be convinced. Likewise, I accept their kinks and quirks, because that’s what “sex-positive” means: everything is A-OK as long as it’s safe, sane and consensual.

4. We don’t have to provide basic education. Look, I’m all for making the world a better place by teaching folks about sex, but I don’t want to do it all the time. It takes a lot of energy to explain, for example, why penetrative orgasms are an unreasonable goal for most vagina-havers, why a particular advertisement is sexist or racist, or what it means to be a sex toy reviewer. It’s nice to be around people who’ve taken the time to educate themselves and who therefore understand me without requiring me to explain what I consider basic-level concepts.

5. We nerd out about the same stuff. We refer to Tristan by her first name only, because we all know who she is and what she does. We get enthused about new sex toys on the market and discuss ‘em with wild abandon. Making our own glass dildos sounds 100% fun and 0% weird. (More about that in a future blog post, OF COURSE!) Sharing in each other’s enthusiasms brings us closer and – yes – makes life a ton more fun.

6. We can give each other advice. And not just basic, unhelpful advice that you could find on Google or Yahoo Answers – high-level advice tailored to the person asking. If I’m on the hunt for a new sex toy and I ask an in-the-know friend, she can suggest a toy that’s not only good but good for me specifically. Or I can ask a friend how to approach a difficult sexual conversation, knowing that she’ll keep my anxiety issues in mind when she answers. Or I can help my friend craft a tricky email to a sex toy retailer, knowing exactly what’s at stake and why she’s struggling with it. The better you know your friends and the worlds they’re a part of, the better equipped you are to help them navigate those worlds.

7. We can be sexual around each other without it getting weird. I once had sex with my then-FWB while my best friend photographed us. I’ve masturbated in front of friends, and watched them do the same. I’ve told friends explicit stories about sex and masturbation, and listened to theirs. I’ve watched porn with friends, groaned at the hottest parts, and talked in detail about how our vaginas were reacting to the scenes’ events. When you do this stuff with sex-positive pals, it tends to feel like a natural extension of your friendship instead of like some strange, stilted step into another realm. Sexual pleasure is a massive source of joy and I see no reason to fence it into my romantic relationships exclusively.

8. We get excited about each other’s sexy adventures. I still remember the time I texted a friend to tell her I’d given my first-ever blowjob and she responded by telling me she didn’t want to hear about stuff like that. It hurt to have a friend snub me about something I considered thrilling and momentous. With my present-day sex-positive friends, that kind of thing would never happen. My family and casual pals may not applaud me when I manage to insert a large dildo for the first time or gasp in delight when I tell them I met my favorite porn star, but my sex-positive friends do – because they get it.

9. We complain and commiserate for the greater good. My friends understand that it’s gross when some dude silently favorites all my selfies, that mansplainers are the scum of the earth, and that weak vibrators make clits sad. When we complain together about stuff like this, we can make it into a joke, something to laugh at, so it becomes more palatable and easier to tolerate. We may not be able to rid the world of douchebros and shitty toys, but we can laugh our asses off about them, which is almost as good.

10. We help each other expand and explore. I would never have gotten naked on camera if I didn’t have friends who shoot porn and nudes, but I’ve loved doing it and it’s helped me evolve as a sexual person. I would have taken much longer to end my last relationship, even though it was clearly dead, if my friends hadn’t encouraged me to go through with it. One of my most treasured memories from #DildoHoliday is a round-table discussion we had where we all shared what we’d like to see each other blog about. When your friends are living sex-positive lives, they can help you see how to live that way too, in bigger and better ways every day. And that’s a very good thing.

What do you appreciate most about your sex-positive amigos?

I Talked About Orgasms & Fanfiction on Public Radio

Kate Sloan

Last week, Jon Pressick invited me to be his guest on Sex City Radio on CIUT 89.5 FM. The sum total of my previous radio experience was a 15-minute highlights reel CBC broadcast of the podcast I co-hosted when I was 12, so… it had been a while. And I was a bit nervous. But very excited nonetheless.

I’d been tearing through Jon’s book and could tell from his editing and writing that he’s thoughtful, open-minded, and well-informed, so I knew it’d be a good interview – and it was!

The CIUT radio studio is located in beautiful Hart House, up a zillion winding flights of stairs. I felt like I was being interviewed in the Gryffindor common room! (Can you imagine the sexy games of Truth or Dare that take place there when Gryffindors are supposed to be sleeping?! BRB, visiting Hart House again to glean some fanfic inspiration…)

You can listen to our chat on Souncloud by clicking here. Some of the topics we touched on: how and why I started this blog, the elements of a good sex toy review, toxic toy materials, Brooklyn Nine-Nine fanfiction, the physical and mental effects of daily orgasms, and how my improv training helps me sexually. (More on that in future blog posts!)

I had such a good time chatting with Jon over the airwaves, and people were very sweet about it on Twitter. Epiphora even told me she wants to steal my brain in my sleep because I have ideassssss. My site needs a testimonials section just so that can go in there!

Thanks so much to Jon and Sex City for giving me this rad opportunity! I got to feel very damn important, and my mom got to brag about me to all her friends. Success!

I Showed My Face on the Internet & Nothing Awful Happened

Kate Sloan

I am a sexy ghost. A faceless apparition. My Twitter avatar is a picture of my boobs. My bio photo is my knees, adorned in sex toys. The name I go by is not my real name, obviously (although: admit you would be at least somewhat impressed by my parents if they had, indeed, legally named me Girly Juice).

There are two main reasons I have always hesitated to show my face in any capacity connected to this blog:

1. I worried that potential future employers, distant conservative family members, shitty misogynist trolls, etc. would stumble across my pictures and use them against me in some way. These worries, if I let them get too far, always morphed into melodramatic waking nightmares in which I ended up homeless, alone, and disgraced. (I know. I’m ridiculous. I told you, I have anxiety.)

2. (And this is an even sillier and more embarrassing reason…) I’m insecure about how I look, and I worried that if people saw what I looked like, they wouldn’t think I was sexy or pretty, and it would cause them to discount my opinions and stop reading my blog.

When Caitlin and John came to my house to interview me and film me masturbating (which is a whole ‘nother story for a whole ‘nother blog post), we got onto the topic of sex blogging and anonymity. Caitlin point-blank asked me why I kept my identity (and my face) so private in the blogosphere, and I went on a meandering ramble about closed-minded office jobs and facial recognition technology and sex-negative assholes… and my tirade was so aimless that at the end of it, I was left thinking, “Why don’t I show my face? Is there a real reason, or is it just my stupid anxiety-brain?”

I have so many friends in the sex-positive corner of the internet who reveal not only their faces but their names, their real-life accomplishments, their identities. And I’ve always been jealous of them, because they can be their whole selves. When their readers and fans love them, they really love them, not some reductive persona.

A few months ago I tweeted that I was toying with the idea of showing my face, and some douchebro replied something like: “Don’t. I like mysterious women.” It reignited all my old doubts about how anonymity might be more alluring to readers than my actual face and body. What if you thought you were reading the sex stories of someone who looked like Jamie Dornan and then you peeled back the curtain and it was actually Gilbert Gottfried under there?! (That’s not to say that I think I look like Gilbert Gottfried… or that he doesn’t have some perfectly lovely characteristics… but you see what I’m saying, yeah?)

When I got dolled up for the Feminist Porn Awards, I came downstairs and there was no one in my house. (This is quite unusual; I live with three other people and two of them work from home.) I got frustrated that there was no one around to tell me, “Hey, you look good!” and that combined with the overall sex-positive, yay-for-sex! attitude that tends to pervade Feminist Porn Week… so I impulsively posted some selfies. Of my face.

And people were really fucking nice about it.

Like, literally every single person who sent me a reply was incredibly sweet and supportive. No one made me feel like it was a particularly big deal or shocking reveal. Everyone was just… great. And it’s one of my most-favorited tweets to date.

I’ve posted a few more Twitter selfies since then (and not just of my cleavage or underwear or disembodied lips), and the results have always been the same. My followers are complete and utter sweethearts. They have made me wonder why I was so scared of doing this for so long.

And they’ve also shown me that my constant self-criticism about my looks is unfounded. I don’t look like a magazine model, and I never will, but lots of people still think I’m pretty. No one, so far, thinks my face or body are incongruous with my femme-sexpot internet persona. It’s just not a big deal. At all.

Sex bloggers and other sexy-on-the-internet types: do you show your face? What’s your reasoning behind showing or not showing it?