Do You Have a “Type”?

Kate Sloan

“You should date this guy,” my friend said, forwarding me a screenshot of someone they’d encountered on Tinder. “He’s totally your type.”

I stared at the picture, trying to see what my friend saw. The dude was scrawny, bespectacled, and looked like he’d probably make an obscure Sondheim reference in the same breath as telling you why your favorite Pokémon’s stats sucked. Yep. Definitely my type.

Curious, I took to the internet. “What kind of person do you think I’ll end up with?” I queried my Facebook friends. The answers were very interesting indeed.

“Good sense of humor? Which I guess is subjective, but someone who is good with joking around and not making asshole jokes and stuff. Someone who’s passionate about some hobby/job/pastime. Not necessarily something nerdy, but maybe.” -my friend Dan, who’s known me for a few years

My first girlfriend was an improvisor, and I’ve been drawn to improv weirdos ever since. There is just something about a person who can not only make you laugh, but can do so with a quick wit and a theatrical committedness that dials their jokes up to eleven. Being on a competitive improv team for a few years saddled me with some of the most intense crushes of my life, simply because seeing people be that funny, that fast and that often, is bound to give you Feelingz about at least some of them.

That first girlfriend also cursed me with a permanent attraction to purple fauxhawks, squeaky laughs, and – most crucially and most enduringly – puns. I practiced my punniness to impress her, and now, all these years later, wordplay still makes my ears perk up. If you can outpun me with aplomb, I probably want to kiss you.

“Somebody intelligent, who has a working knowledge of something you’ll develop a passion for after you meet them (you’ll teach them about something you know lots about, like theatre or something, and they’ll teach you about the new interest). Somebody calm/level-headed who isn’t drawn into an argument easily.” -Max, my brother

My first serious boyfriend was a game developer, and ever since that years-long romance, I’ve been hopelessly attracted to other developers of games and apps. If you can ramble my ear off about code, interactive narrative, and the evolution of iOS, I’ll have very little idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll probably wanna listen anyway. Especially if I already think you’re cute.

This proclivity got so bad at one point that I would start flirting with someone and only find out after the fact that they were a game dev. “Of course you are,” I’d say, smacking myself in the forehead. I could not escape the devs!

I was mystified by this for a long time, until a game-dev friend of mine offered a potential explanation. He said I’m attracted to nerds, but especially creative nerds – and software development is where hard-nosed geekiness crosses paths with starry-eyed dreaminess. To make a good game or app, you gotta have both imaginative vision and nerdy know-how. It makes a lot of sense to me now why I’m attracted to people in this career so frequently.

“They will be laugh-out-loud funny, have empathy out the wazoo, be a good listener, and spontaneous. Funny is so important. I think a unique sense of humour is big too, and owning their own quirks.” -my friend Georgia, who’s known me for 10+ years

When pondering whether or not I have a “type,” the phase “charismatic nerd” kept floating through my consciousness. It’s really the most succinct and accurate description of the people I’ve dated. My physical preferences have shifted over time, and usually haven’t been all that important to me – but charisma and nerdiness have endured as crucial qualities in all my crushes.

See, I love the zany zeal that characterizes nerds – their no-chill enthusiasm for whatever captivates them, and the ways that passion can translate to sex and dating. But while I find some nerds’ shyness and awkwardness endearing, it feels too familiar to my dorky heart; I tend to enjoy dating people more outgoing and socially smooth than me, because they pull me out of my introverted shell and take me on adventures.

S. Bear Bergman says you should date “someone who is similar enough to you to make you feel comfortable, but different enough from you to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.” Nerdiness sets me at ease. Charisma sets my nerve endings on fire.

“I mean, they’d need to love BJs and you’d need to have good sex with them, but I feel like as long as they weren’t selfish dickwads in bed, you’d be able to have good sex with them. Like, obviously you have your preferences, but I feel like your sexual priorities are a little more mutable than the things you’d need from their personality. So if they were amazingly funny/supportive/creative and willing to learn (because they’re supportive of your pleasure) then you’d be happy to do the work to make sure y’all were having good sex.” -my best friend Bex

Last year, I was telling my then-boyfriend about a man I’d previously been in love with, and he said, “Why did you fall in love with him? Wasn’t he vanilla?”

It struck me as an odd question, because at the time that all that shit went down, someone’s kink orientation didn’t really enter into my vetting process vis-à-vis crushes. If they were smart, funny, feminist, enthusiastic, and kind, I figured great sex could come later. Or I could settle for pretty-good sex. Or we’d figure it out when we got there. I dunno, man.

These days, though, I lean toward viewing my submissive identity as integral to my attractions. Someone can capture my attention by being a little dominant when otherwise I might’ve skipped over them. Admissions of risk-aware sadism or daddy-esque predilections get my blood pumping. I consider kink compatibility alongside humor, temperament, and lifestyle when deciding how deep to wade into a new crush.

But I still get all swoony for mega-vanilla people sometimes. Hey, you can’t win ’em all.

“Smart. Open-minded. Probably a goof or you’ll get bored, let’s be real.” –Sofi, who is a literal matchmaker for a living

Ultimately, the qualities that draw you to someone, and keep you interested in them, are to some degree ineffable. You can write out what you think is the precise formula of your attractions, but you can always prove yourself wrong.

All my major crushes have shifted my own perceptions of my “type” in some way. I never knew I could love an extrovert until I did; I wasn’t sure I could fall for a bald guy or a short guy or a vegan guy until I did; I’ve dated people older than I thought I ever would, younger, louder, quieter, farther away. They’ve probably all had some kernel of something in common – some clever glimmer, some magnetic tenderness – but it’s hard to see their similarities at a glance. If you put ’em all in a lineup, they’d look like a pretty disparate crew.

I love that about attraction, though. I love never knowing who I’ll want next, and why. It reminds me that life is a wild ride and there’s no use in trying to predict anything. Just enjoy it while you’re on it.

Do you have a “type”? How do you feel about it?

Review: Doxy Number 3

Kate Sloan

You know how the details of your early courtship with a new beau feel huge and important? The album you bonded over, the shirt they were wearing when they first asked you out, the exact wording of the inscription they penciled into a book they bought you?

One such detail in my relationship with my boyfriend is the Doxy Number 3, a vibrator he bought me as a Christmas gift less than two weeks after we met. #Romance, am I right?!

Doxy #3 vs. Doxy Die Cast

I wanted this li’l wand vibe from the moment I heard that it existed. It’s basically a miniature version of the Doxy Die Cast; my sex blogger friends referred to it as the “Doxy Smol” before we knew what it was actually called. A common complaint with wand vibes is how big and bulky they are, especially the heavy aluminum Die Cast, so making a littler version makes a lot of sense.

The #3 serves my needs quite well, as a pervy jetsetter for whom hotel-sex dates in foreign countries are a common occurrence. I can throw it in my checked luggage, or even probably my carry-on, without the hassle I’d experience trying to travel with a larger, heavier wand. And being a plug-in toy, it won’t turn on in transit.

Like all Doxy products, this one is beautiful and sensual. It feels expensive and high-quality, which it’d better, considering its $150+ price tag. I adore how the wand’s aluminum/titanium body feels so cold at first and then warms up during use. The twist-off silicone head is a nice touch, making it easy to clean the toy after use without worrying about getting the mechanics wet.

All that said, this product still has some issues that I hope Doxy fixes. In fact, so many people have reported problems with this wand that Come As You Are decided to pause on stocking it because of its “high defective rate.” Mine has a couple of annoying problems. First off, it overheats after 15-20 minutes of use, seeming to taunt me for taking “that long” to come. Quit harshin’ my vibe, vibe!

Secondly, it has a mechanical problem my original Doxy and Die Cast both also suffer from: the vibrations seem to move around, and change dramatically in quality, at random. When I first turn it on, it’s buzzy as hell, but if I press the head into my body hard enough, it switches to a rumblier timbre. I can usually get it to stay rumbly for a while, but sudden pressure or movement can cause it to switch back into buzzy mode without warning – which, needless to say, is particularly annoying when you’re coming or just about to come. Yikes, Doxy. What is even happening inside your vibes?!

My other big complaint about Doxy toys, including this one, is that they all start way too powerful and don’t have lower speed options for the hypersensitive among us. But that’s not too much of an inconvenience; I can always just hold the toy adjacent to my clit until I’m sufficiently warmed up and craving stronger sensations. And ultimately, Doxy products aren’t for people who want their vibes weaker; these are next-level toys for those with next-level vibration needs. So if you like your vibrators very fucking strong and you haven’t invested in a Doxy yet, you should consider it!

I think the Number 3 is, overall, my favorite Doxy, simply because my clit prefers more pinpointed sensations than a standard-size wand can offer. I use mine a lot, especially during phone sex with the absolute darling who bought it for me. But Doxy needs to do a better job at quality control before I’ll be able to wholeheartedly recommend their products. When you buy a wand this fancy and pricey, you should be confident it’s not going to overheat or ruin your orgasm!

The Doxy Number Three is available at SheVibe and Peepshow Toys!

5 Ways to Make Long-Distance Relationships Suck Less

Kate Sloan

I always vowed, as a young naïve little thing, never to get into a long-distance relationship. Touch is one of my major love languages, and I’m not the type to need a lot of “space” in my relationships: if I love someone enough to want to be their girlfriend, usually I want them as close as possible, in every way possible.

So it was a surprise when I met a boy who lived in New York and wanted him to be my boyfriend. I knew more-or-less what that would entail, and I still wanted it. I knew how hard it would be, and I still wanted it. I had often wondered, unempathetically, of friends in LDRs, “Why can’t you just find someone closer to date?” and I see now that that’s a question akin to when folks used to ask me, “You’re attracted to butch women? Why not just date men?” The answer is, you can’t control who you fall for. When you want that specific person, it’s neither appealing nor always possible to find a passable stand-in. You want who you want, and you love who you love.

Like the relationship nerds we are, my partner and I have experimented with lots of strategies for feeling closer when we’re far apart. Here are five things I’ve found helpful…

He told me to order a Manhattan because that’s where he lives. What a dork.

Phone dates. My partner and I talk on the phone almost every day for at least an hour or two, which – oddly – means I’m in touch with him more consistently and intensely than I have been with anyone else I’ve dated, despite him living 500 miles away from me. It’s so nice!

Like in-person dates with a nearby beau, these can be either pre-planned or impromptu, and they’re delicious either way. Sometimes we talk aimlessly for hours while we’re both lying in bed; sometimes I get dressed up for a jaunt to my favorite restaurant and he chats with me throughout my meal; sometimes we have raucous phone sex (see below). In the early days of our relationship, we frequently stayed up all night talking for six or seven or eight hours, and it felt akin to those love-drunk dates where you watch the sunrise together on a rooftop or some romantic shit like that. Aww!

We also do weird-cute things like hanging out on the phone while we’re each separately working on our own stuff. Or like… I’m screensharing with him right now as I type this. (We’re nerds, okay?) Jasdev Singh uses the term “ambient intimacy” which reminds me of this kind of low-pressure, casual “date.”

Whether you go with Skype, FaceTime, or the actual goddamn phone, I think the real-time aspect is important here. Texting is fun, but it can feel like your partner lives in your phone – and you want them to feel real to you. So make the time for actual, meaningful chats.

Wearing his shirt. Aww

Physical mementos. I have a T-shirt of my partner’s that I keep in a Ziploc bag so it’ll continue to smell like him, and when I take it out and press it to my face, I almost always burst into tears. #OverEmotionalSlutLyfe, amirite?

I collect other little tokens, too: love notes he’s written me, tickets from shows we’ve gone to together, room keys from hotels we’ve stayed in, li’l gifts he’s given me, and so on. The ones that are flat enough get carried around with me in the back pocket of my Moleskine journal, so I can take ’em out whenever I need a reminder that I am loved. (Not sure what the people on the subway think I’m doing when I giggle awkwardly at a postcard I produce from the back of my notebook, but whatevs.)

Sending each other gifts in the mail is also adorable when feasible. I will never forget the time my partner sent me an enormous flower arrangement on Valentine’s Day, for example, and it still makes me smile to flip through the book he bought me just a few days after our first date. These keepsakes make our mostly-digital relationship feel more rooted in the material world. Like hickeys, bite marks, and bruises, they remind me that someone cares about me, even when he isn’t physically there to tell me so.

Digital intimacy. I used to staunchly believe you shouldn’t follow your beaux on Twitter, but, uh, I met this one on Twitter, sooo… maybe I should reconsider that policy. I get a li’l rush of adrenaline every time my love faves or replies to one of my tweets. Likewise when he texts me, emails me, Snapchats me, makes me Spotify playlists of songs that remind him of us… um, you get the picture.

We do nerdier shit, too, like using iOS’s “share location” feature so we can keep an eye on each other throughout our days, and adding continuously to a shared photostream that chronicles our relationship in snapshots and screenshots. (And, uh, cumshots.)

Lots of my LDR-experienced friends enjoy watching shows and movies online with their partner, by screensharing or using a service like Rabb.it. Could be a cute date night!

A lot of archaic h8erz will tell you that connecting via the internet is less legitimate than connecting physically, but a) I’ll take what I can get and b) they’re wrong. It all strengthens our relationship and makes us feel closer to each other so it’s all valid and important.

Phone sex. I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT PHONE SEX. Eventually I will write some kind of how-to, although I don’t think I’m very good at it. (Suz is, though, and she wrote a good piece about it.)

Like in-person sex, phone sex can be whatever you want it to be. It can be as standardly vanilla or as deviantly kinky as you please. It can be hypothetical and distanced (“If I was there, I would…”) or immersively in-the-moment (“Get on your knees and suck my cock, little girl”). You can use toys (including app-compatible, LDR-friendly toys like the We-Vibe Sync!) or just get off the old-fashioned way. You can be yourselves, or play roles. You can craft detailed storylines, or just touch yourself and lapse into breathy moans.

Even though what we do during phone sex is essentially masturbation, it feels entirely different to me. The psychological and emotional aspects are much closer to my experience of partnered sex, and the orgasms are extra satisfying and exhausting the way that orgasms with partners usually are for me. Post-orgasm, when all that oxytocin is flooding my body, it’s so lovely to feel like I’m auditorily curling up with my partner for sweet cuddly aftercare. The whole process makes me feel so much closer to him and is often so good that I only miss fucking him IRL a little. (…Okay, more than a little. But less than I would if we weren’t having so damn much phone sex, that’s for sure.)

Doing our goodbye debrief at Reynard.

Proper goodbyes. The goodbyes my partner and I exchanged at the end of our second date were so disastrously bad that we vowed to never let that happen again. That farewell was rushed, took place in a crowded New York subway station, and ended on the sad note of us commiserating about how much we would miss each other and how hard it was to say goodbye. Then I got on the subway and he got into a cab and we both cried while texting each other about how hard we were crying. Not good!

In relationship-nerding about how to fix this issue for next time, we decided we needed to look at our in-person dates as if they were kink scenes – since they were just as emotionally and sexually intense as most kink scenes – and do proper aftercare. We needed a structured process to help us work through what we’d just experienced and float back into our regular lives without the harsh emotional drop we’d experienced that previous time.

Here’s what this looks like for us. We leave ourselves lots of time at the end of a date so we don’t have to rush our goodbye. We go for a leisurely meal or coffee. We talk about our favorite parts of the time we just spent together, both sexual and nonsexual. If possible, we try to nail down when our next date will be, even if it’s a month or more away, so we’ll have that to look forward to. We don’t say goodbye on the subway or in a cab, if possible, because that abruptness is the worst. Our goodbye on our third date took place outside his office building, where we could hug and kiss and stare moonily into each other’s eyes, etc., and we both left it feeling happy, hopeful, and only a little bit sad. Developing a farewell ritual that works for you is crucial, and worth taking the time to do!

What do you like to do to make long-distance relationships easier and more fun?

Review: Piph Lube

Kate Sloan

(Edited to add: this was an April Fool’s Day joke, y’all! Don’t you wish this lube existed, though?!)

If you want a sex product designed right, get a sex toy reviewer to do it. That’s what I’ve always believed, and SheVibe has finally done it, enlisting queen of the sex toy reviewers Epiphora to develop her own lube. It is a thing to behold. I present to you: Piph Lube.

Now, you might be wondering: if I want a reviewer-endorsed water-based lube, why not just grab a bottle of Sliquid Sassy? Well, there’s more to it than that. This lube contains some additives which make it – to quote its tagline – “radically stimulating.” (Sounds like a fingerbanging class taught by a sandy-haired surfer bro, I know, but read on.)

The additives? Cannabis, caffeine, pinot grigio, catnip, and a mysterious force identified only as “queer magic.” These are a few of my favorite things…

Now let’s be clear before we proceed: this isn’t a lube for a quick, get-‘er-done kind of wank, just as a “special” brownie isn’t the ideal snack for when you’re running out the door to go write your SATs. (Well, depends on what kind of brain you have, I guess.) You’ve gotta settle in with this one. Clear your schedule. Light some incense. Take the phone off the hook, you archaic landline-possessing cutie, you.

I was involved in the early testing process of this lube, and skewing the formula created some amusing results. Too much cannabis and my vagina just wanted to squeeze on the dildo inside it, too slowly and too reverently, because it just felt so cooool. Too much caffeine and I’d clutch my Magic Wand in frantic T-rex hands, pressing it against my lube-smeared vulva in a mad dash toward orgasm. Too much pinot grigio and I’d fall asleep midway through my testing session with a dildo lazily sliding out of me and a boozy blush overtaking my cheeks. Too much “queer magic” and I’d get distracted from masturbation by the imminent need to scissor to a Tegan and Sara album. And let’s not even talk about what happened when there was too much catnip…

But the formula is finally exactly right, I’m thrilled to report. When I smear it all over a dildo or a butt plug for a luxurious wank sesh, I know I’m about to have an experience. The first time I tried this final formulation, I had three theatrical orgasms in a candle-rimmed bathtub while intermittently wailing along to Ani DiFranco and giggling like a six-year-old at a birthday party. The next time I tried it, I channelled my inner Rosie the Riveter and got most of my own fist inside me while chanting, “We can do it! We can do it!” The time after that, I squirted so hard I thought I was gonna pass out, and when I looked at the puddle on my bedsheets, I swear to god it was shaped like a unicorn. Hey, don’t ask me, I can’t explain the hows and whys of queer magic.

When I brought Piph Lube to a Tinder hookup’s house and explained what was on offer, he eagerly agreed to give it a shot. Five hours later, we finally collapsed in a heap of glitter and sweat – me scratched up and sated, him wide-eyed and whispering piously about how a communist, matriarchal society would reshape our sexual culture. I gently shushed him, closed his laptop to silence the Crash Pad scene we’d been looping in the background of our romp, and fell into a luxuriant sleep. He told me to tell you this lube “like, absolutely, unironically changes lives, okay?”

The additives are blended together in a base of filtered Portland rainwater, incase you want to “keep your orifices weird,” I guess. I keep wondering what Candace and Toni would think of this lube. They could probably use it to grease the wheels of their rolling book carts, in any case.

Although ingesting too much of any one additive in this lube could fuck you up pretty bad, the lube itself is totally body-safe. And it’s a good thing, too, because I want to use it a lot. Like, all the time. It’s hard not to love a product that makes your vagina feel like it’s flying through the cosmos holding hands with Cher and Prince.

I recommend pairing Piph Lube with a hyper-textured or visually stimulating toy to take full advantage of its sensual effects. Smear some on a heart-shaped butt plug if you just wanna feel more in tune with the love energy of the universe, y’know? Drip some on your BS Is Nice Rainbow dildo if you’re like, “Hey, I’m pretty gay, but I want to feel even gayer today.” Squirt some in your Tenga 3D Spiral if you want your dick to feel like it’s trapped in an Escher painting.

Many thanks to Piph and SheVibe for developing this lube. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ll be in my bathtub, crying happy tears, coming too many times, and fucking myself into a sparkly stupor.

Monthly Faves: Southsides & Sweet Sadists

Kate Sloan

March was kind of a weird month for my mental health but I still managed to get fucked real good a bunch… Here were some of my fave things this month!

Sex toys

• SheVibe sent me a Neon Wand a little while ago after I mentioned being curious about electrostimulation (thank you, sweet angels!) and I finally got to try it out with a partner this month. M’boyf strapped me down using my under-the-bed restraints and then proceeded to zap me all over various tender body parts until I turned into a subspacey mess. Full review to come!

• I requested a Liberator Axis from Betty’s Toy Box and I’m even more into it than I thought I would be. It’s a sexual positioning aid, much like the Liberator Wedge or Jaz, except it has a slot where you can insert your Magic Wand. Ideal for hands-free clitoral stimulation while getting fucked from behind or spanked!

• Did y’all know that it’s really fun to fuck someone with an Njoy Pfun plug while you’re blowing them? Well, it is.

Fantasy fodder

• I mentioned hysteria kink last month but I’m gonna talk about it again, dammit. One night in mid-March after a tipsy date at Northwood, my darlin’ was kissing and spanking me in bed when he suddenly said, “I want you to take off your panties and be my patient.” I knew immediately that he meant he wanted to enact the kind of medical-play scene we’d sexted about on many an occasion. Swoooon. I’ve fantasized about this type of play for a long time, so it felt especially magical to have him expertly pull an orgasm from my body with the Eleven and Doxy #3 while mumbling darkly about what a good patient I was and how much better I was going to feel after the procedure.

• Welp, you can file bootblacking under “things I liked in fantasy that I ended up liking even more IRL.” After plenty o’ sexting about it, my Sir and I finally gave bootblacking a shot this month, with him in a comfortable armchair and me on a leash at his feet. I got waaay more subspacey and trancey than I was expecting; it was meditative and lovely. And his shoes looked fucking great afterward.

• I’m experimenting with dominance a little these days. I’ve played with it before, but usually only with people I was exclusively dominant over; it’s rare I attempt to switch with people who normally dom me. But it’s been fun. I like roleplaying as a withholding mistress or a bratty blackmailing schoolgirl. (And I love that one of my favorite subby kink honorifics, “princess,” works just as well for me in a dominant role if we spell it with a capital P…)

Sexcetera

• Check me out on the Bed Post podcast! Erin and I had a great chat about hypnokink, DD/lg, sex spreadsheets, and more.

• I was so proud of my friend Suz this month when she relaunched her website and held a rad party to celebrate the occasion. There was a delicious signature cocktail called the Sex on the Peach, genitalia cupcakes, porn screenings, “CUM” balloons, a spanking booth, and more. I had so much fun dancing the night away to ’90s pop in a super slutty outfit. Congrats, Suz!

Femme stuff

• I bought sequinned leggings from the Gap and they’re so good. I used to own a pair like these in high school and I wore them so much they literally fell apart. Looking forward to going dancing in these; I’ll be a walking disco ball!

• My Sir ordered a couple custom pieces for me from L’Amour-Propre this month: a leash in the same blue suede as my collar, and a silver heart-shaped lock with “Daddy’s” engraved on it. We’re still feeling out exactly what the lock is for and under what circumstances I’ll wear it, but I’ve been wearing it on a silver chain and treating it as basically a fancier collar, and it’s so pretty!

• I bought a Dildorks shirt. It’s cute as fuck. You can order your own here!

Little things

Dinner and a comedy show with my bruddy. The boyf staying up with me on FaceTime til 2:30AM, helping me with a research project and making me laugh. Ukulele jam sessions. Making money doing what I love. Seeing Stacey Kent in concert after loving her music for like 15 years. My new tattoo, still. Giggling at Flo & Joan songs with Zoe over gin and tonics. My new roommate’s two cats (I have befriended… one of them). My sweet Sir asking if he could call me when I was having a bad mental health night by saying, “Are you sure you don’t just wanna hear my voice be silly and stuff? You don’t have to do anything; I can just be entertaining and complimentary.” Watching the hot bartender at the Crow’s Theatre make me a wonderful old-fashioned. My two favorite songs of the month, “Like or Like Like” and “Kidnap Me.” Pizza and wine with Rosaline, as per usual. Sir visiting me in Toronto, and getting to take him to my fave places. The breakfast special at Dooney’s. Crossing things off to-do lists. Sipping a Southside with my daddy while talking about D/s semantics.