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.

Monthly Faves: Happy Endings & Bubble Baths

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O is for October, and also for Orgasm, and Oooooh Yes, and Oh my god October was a sexy month. Here are some highlights…

 

Toys

• Honestly? I’ve been using my fingers a lot this month! I’ve often found they’re not stimulating enough to get me off on their own, but lately I’m thinking it’s mostly an issue of mental stimulation, not physical. I seem to get bored and distracted a lot more easily when I’m using fingers versus toys. But if I’m watching porn at the same time, often fingers are all it takes. Cool!

• The only two dildos in heavy rotation for me this month were the Eleven and G-Spoon. Dat A-spot action. Mmm, yes.

• Still mega infatuated with the Magic Wand Rechargeable. I find I rely on it more often when my life is particularly busy or stressful, because it gets me off easily and quickly.

 

Fantasy fodder

• Most of my fantasies this month were about getting fingerfucked to orgasm by handsome, vaguely dom-y gentlemen. It’s no coincidence that two of my favorite sexual encounters in the past few months also involved this act… but I wonder if it’s my fantasy because I did it, or if I did it because it’s my fantasy?!

• Amateur oral sex porn is my jam and gets mentioned here practically every month. Whoops. Usually I’m all about BJs but this month I was also diggin’ on some amateur cunnilingus scenes. Viz: extreme close-up, cute dude pleasin’ his lady, and (an old-school favorite!) porn stars teaching oral skillz.

• I recently revisited one of my favorite pieces of sex writing – Rachel Rabbit White’s essay on getting a “happy ending” massage – and it reignited my long-standing kink for sex as a service. I did a fair amount of research on Toronto-based “erotic masseurs,” even spending several hours reading testimonials on one practitioner’s website. As searingly hot as this notion is in my mind, I just don’t think I’ll ever have the guts to go through with it… (Or, let’s be real, the money. Sexy massages are expensive as fuck!)

 

Sexcetera

• I’ve been doing cam shows for horny patrons lately and it’s been fun! I thought I would feel skeezed out about masturbating on webcam for strangers, but actually it’s very affirming. I have my fair share of body insecurities, but it’s hard to hate your body when someone is actually paying you for the privilege of looking at it, all while jerking off and telling you how gorgeous you are. (Oh, horny men. The bad ones are awful, but the good ones are adorable.)

• The ever-charming Taylor J. Mace took some scantily-clad and naked photos of me for his porn company, Feisty Fox Films. He claims to be a photography novice, but damn, he made me look (and feel) fantastic! If you need a dose of body-love in your life, I heartily recommend enlisting someone clever to shoot photos of you in a flatteringly-lit room.

• By far, my best solo-sex experience of the month was when I drew myself a hot bath, crumbled half a Sunny Side and half a Brightside into the water, poured myself a big glass of white wine, turned out the bathroom lights, pointed my laptop at the tub with some fisting porn playing on it, climbed into the bath with my G-Spoon + Eleven + Tango, and went to town on myself for over two hours. Normally my baths do not even approach this level of luxury, but I had the house completely to myself for one elusive evening, so I decided to go all out. Damn, self-care feels so right and so necessary sometimes.

 

 

Femme stuff

• In mid-September I bought some men’s boxer-briefs because they come up higher on my torso and felt like the healthier choice while my tattoo healed. It took until October for me to realize how sexy I feel in them. They may not be “feminine” but I kinda want to wear them every day.

• I bought a vintage red leather jacket for a Halloween costume that never came to pass, but it’s okay because I look hot in it. (Why must autumn slip away so quickly?! I want it to be leather-jacket weather forever!)

MAC lipstick in “Matte Royal” is possibly the weirdest, most gothic lipstick I own. Maybe one day I will pluck up the courage to actually wear it out of the house…

 

What were your favorite things in October, my darlin’?

 

Dildoface: Leoweenie

Happy Halloween, cuties! It’s time for another Dildoface video, wherein I do makeup inspired by a vibrant, beautiful sex toy. This time around, my face is an ode to none other than the only Halloween-themed dildo in my collection: the limited-edition “Batcock” version of the Vixen Creations Leo!

I hope you enjoy this goth-y smoky eye and bright orange lip, and that you consider rocking it at a Halloween event or two…

 

Products used: Too Faced Shadow InsuranceMAC eyeshadow in “Soft Brown” • various Morphe eyeshadows • Maybelline gel eyelinerSmashbox pore-minimizing primerCoverGirl 3-in-1 foundationMAC Pro Longwear concealerMake Up For Ever HD Microfinish powderNYX blush in “Taupe”ELF baked highlighter in “Moonlight Pearls” • Anastasia Dipbrow Pomade in “Dark Brown” • Clinique eyeshadow in “Sugar Sugar” (discontinued long ago!) • Colourpop lip pencil in “Rocket” • Maybelline Color Sensational Vivids lipstick in “Electric Orange”

You can buy the Vixen Leo at SheVibe! It’s pretty wonderful; read my review here.

 

What are you wearing on your face (and on the rest of you) for Halloween this year?!

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…

Why You Should Never Follow the Person You’re Dating on Twitter

I signed up for Twitter when I was 15 years old. That means I’ve been on it for more than one-third of my entire life. (Oh god. What a nerd.)

When I first became involved in social media, it wasn’t nearly as widespread as it is now, and I encountered a lot of pushback. Friends and classmates often told me I put “too much” of myself online, and that “some things should be kept private.” I wasn’t using my social media much differently from how most people use it today, but because it was such a new phenomenon, my passionate early adoption of it looked weird to onlookers.

That was a time when so few people had social media that I could freely talk about my crushes and beaux on Twitter, Tumblr, and so on, without worrying that they would see it. The internet was still this weird secondary dimension where I mostly communed with other nerds, not “real people” from my “real life.” So I ranted and raved all over the place about people I was sexually or romantically involved with. It was okay; they’d never read it.

Now, though, pretty much everyone I interact with “IRL” has a strong social media presence; that’s just how our world works these days. So I have to be more careful about what I say online – we all do.

I’ve recently arrived at the belief that you shouldn’t follow people you’re dating on Twitter. The reasons for this are too nuanced to be tweet-sized, so I’m blogging about it. I’d love to know if you agree or not…

 

Reason 1: Anxiety and obsessiveness.

This won’t apply to everyone, obviously, but for those of us with nervous hearts, following your beau on Twitter can render you totally bananas.

You’ll see them tweeting at other folks in a semi-flirty way and you’ll wonder what the hell it means. You’ll grow to hate the smiling faces in the profile pictures of the people your beau interacts with, even if those interactions are far more innocent and chaste than they appear.

If you text them and they take a little while to answer, but they tweet in the meantime, you’ll wonder why they have the time to tweet but not to respond to you. (Hint: someone not responding to your texts immediately doesn’t mean they hate you – although you might forget this in the heat of the moment.) You’ll comb their tweets for evidence that they’ve lied to you or made up a fake excuse as to why they couldn’t hang out.

You’ll obsessively check their tweets multiple times a day to see what they’re up to. Their digital presence will allow them to stay front-and-centre in your mind, so you feel psychologically glued to them all the time instead of getting the mental space you both need.

Some people are mentally healthy and well-adjusted enough that this isn’t a risk for them. But if you, like me, have a tendency toward the obsessive, it might be beneficial for you to keep your romantic prospects out of your digital sphere.

 

Reason 2: Mystery and freshness.

My ex and I were both extremely prolific tweeters, and toward the end of our relationship, it became a problem. Several times in any given conversation, one person would start to tell a story and the other would cut them off: “Yeah, I saw that on your Twitter already.”

Granted, we were at the stage in our relationship where the magic had worn off and we didn’t particularly care about impressing each other – so we weren’t always as polite about this as we could have been. But there is something to be said for the loss of mystery when you follow each other’s daily minutiae on Twitter.

When I spend time with someone I’m seeing, I want us both to be bursting with new information to share with each other. Codependency and boring relationships are bred when you do everything together and never go adventuring on your own, and that effect can be replicated if you’re constantly keeping tabs on each other via Twitter. Your separate existences should be discrete enough that you’re excited to come together and catch up.

Besides which: some people post the most boring, inane shit on Twitter even if they’re dynamic as hell in real life, and you don’t want their dull online persona to kill your attraction. Your love will probably seem foxier if you don’t know what they ate for lunch or how bored they were at work yesterday.

 

Reason 3: Space and privacy.

Some would say you forfeit your right to privacy when you post stuff online. “Don’t put stuff in public that you want to keep private!” they’d argue. And they’re not wrong.

But that’s also a bit like saying that the conversations you have with friends in public – at a coffee shop or restaurant, say – are fair game for public consumption just because they’re happening in a public space. There is such a thing as a private exchange within a public context; you are allowed to expect respect and discretion from the people who might be overhearing your dialogue, whether it happens in real life or on the internet.

Likewise, although your beau might post stuff online where anyone can theoretically read it, they might not want everyone to read it (including you). It doesn’t mean they don’t like you or don’t trust you; they might just need a place to work out their thoughts and feelings without worrying about how that stuff will be perceived.

We all need time and space away from our partners from time to time. When someone tells you they “need space,” probably you imagine they mean physical distance, but nowadays we all need some digital distance too. Our online social lives are largely interwoven with our “IRL” social lives, so our needs and wants in both areas are similar. If your partner is the type who fiercely needs their independence and solo space, you might be able to help give them that by unfollowing their Twitter stream.

 

Do you follow your partner(s)/date(s)/crush(es) on Twitter? How do you feel about it?