5 Non-Boring Answers to “What’s Up?” When Nothing is Up

Kate Sloan

We’ve all been there. You get together with a friend who you haven’t seen in a little while, and they ask you, “So what’s up?” or, “What’s going on in your life?” or, “What have you been up to lately?” And your mind goes totally blank.

It’s not that your life is boring, but maybe there just hasn’t been a lot of drama lately. Everything’s kind of stayed the same. Nothing new to report.

Of course, the whole reason your friend asked you that question in the first place – aside from genuinely wanting to know how your life is going – is that they wanted to spark a conversation, and those standard questions are an easy way to do it.

So, with that in mind, here are five ways you can answer that question if you don’t have a “real” answer. Let me know how they work for you!

 

1. “Right now I’m obsessed with…”

In my journal-writing, I often talk about things that feel “emotionally significant” to me at the moment even if they’re not significant to my life in a tangible, physical sense.

You might be binge-watching a show on Netflix, fanatically following a particular news story, or ploughing through a delightful novel. You might have seen a rad YouTube video you want to ramble about, or maybe you just learned to cook a new meal and now you want to make it every damn day.

Whatever you’re fixated on at the moment, you don’t need to hide it away and look for something “more interesting” to talk about. Your friend is your friend for a reason. They’ll probably find your obsession charming. Or at least it’ll get a conversation started.

 

2. “Sometime soon, I’d like to…”

If nothing riveting is happening in your present, you can always talk about what’s gonna happen in your future.

For example, lately when friends ask me what I’m doing, my answer tends to include, “I think I might go on a trip to Newfoundland next year!” There’s nothing concrete about that, but it’s okay, because my friends still tend to find it interesting and it leads us into a conversation about travel, saving up, future plans, et cetera. That type of conversation is always exciting, even if none of our plans have officially been made yet!

 

3. “I was just thinking about that time that we…”

Just as projecting into your future can prompt fun conversations, so can reaching back into your past.

This can be especially enlightening with friends you’ve known for a long time. By talking about experiences you’ve shared, you strengthen your bond, and you can also reflect on how far both of you have come.

I have one friend who loves this type of conversation and approaches each one very thoughtfully. Some questions we’ll often ask each other as we talk about our past are, “What do you think you learned from that?” and “If you could do that over again, what would you do differently?” You can learn so much about your friend – and yourself! – by contemplating these questions together!

 

4. “This might seem small, but…”

If you haven’t got any “big” life updates to share, it’s perfectly fine to rattle off some small ones. You never know where you might find some common ground with a friend. They might have some advice for you, or they might be going through something similar.

Maybe you just installed a new TV in your house… or your ex-girlfriend posted something questionable on Facebook… or you ran into a former teacher. Whatever. It doesn’t need to be earthshattering. Your friend is your friend because, at least in part, they find you entertaining and pleasant – including your more mundane tales.

 

5. “Not much! So I think I need to…”

If you routinely find it difficult to answer when a friend asks you what’s going on, maybe that’s because you’re in a bit of a rut.

It’s totally okay to be happy with the status quo, but if you’re finding that you want to make some changes, maybe you can tell a friend that and see what suggestions they have for you.

If your job bores the fuck out of you, maybe it’s time to look for a new one. If your relationship feels stagnant, maybe you need to re-ignite it or call the whole thing off. If you’re feeling unchallenged across the board, maybe it’s time to learn a new skill or force yourself to try something new.

Your friend may be able to see a blind spot or destructive pattern that’s preventing you from moving forward, which is why it’s useful to have this type of conversation with a friend instead of just mulling it over inside your head.

 

I’m curious: how do you answer the “What’s going on in your life?” question if you don’t have much to say?

GJ Reads Grey, Chapter 6 (second half)

Kate Sloan

Want to go back? Read the previous instalment or the first chapter.

Last time, we left off with Christian pinning Ana against an elevator wall and kissing her aggressively without checking in or ascertaining her consent in any way. Cool story, bro!

This time, we start with a smaller manifestation of that same contempt for consent: she asks him to call her Ana, again, and he still goes on calling her Anastasia, because evidently he doesn’t give a shit about what she wants.

“Why do you insist on calling me Anastasia?” she asks.
“Because it’s your name.”
“I prefer Ana.”
“Do you, now?”
“Ana” is too everyday and ordinary for her. And too familiar. Those three letters have the power to wound…

Christian drives Ana back to the apartment she shares with her friend Kate…

Kavanagh jumps up and gives me a critical once-over as she hugs Ana.
What did she think I was going to do to the girl?
I know what I’d like to do to her…

It’s like this dude has multiple personalities, and one of them is a murderer. He’s continually written to seem totally blind to his own creepiness. Ugh.

A lock of her hair has broken free, and without thinking, I tuck it behind her ear. She leans her face into my fingers, the tender gesture surprising me. My thumb strays to her soft bottom lip, which I’d like to kiss again. But I can’t. Not until I have her consent.

YES! CONSENT! I would be cheering and pumping my fists in the air right now, if I didn’t know that by “her consent” he means “her signature on a creepy BDSM contract.”

Then Christian gets in the car with his brother Elliot, who’s apparently dating Kate now, and they have another one of their classic bro-y conversations. It’s filled with stilted dialogue out of bad ’90s teen sex comedies, like “Man, I need some sleep; that woman is voracious” and “How about you, hotshot? Did she pop your cherry?” (Can we have an Elliot spinoff novel? I bet he’s more fun than Christian.)

The results come back from the background check Christian ran on Ana’s friend José (remember?). No sexual harassment charges; only “a ticket for possession of marijuana.”

And the little prick smokes weed? I hope he doesn’t smoke around Ana – and I hope she doesn’t smoke, period.

Grey has his assistant print out a non-disclosure agreement and a copy of his “standard Dom/sub contract” for Ana. Oh, the romance!!

For the first time in a long time, I have a sweet sense of anticipation. I’m excited.
Will she say yes to my proposal?
I picture her sleeping beside me, soft and small… and my cock twitches with expectation. I could have woken her and fucked her then – what a novelty that would have been.
I’ll fuck her in time. I’ll fuck her bound and with her smart mouth gagged.

It’s gross that for him, the appeal of fucking Ana is that it would have been “a novelty.” Not that he likes her, or wants to make her feel good, or wants to explore an equitable and mutually enjoyable sexual connection… but that she would’ve been an interesting new way for him to get his dick wet. Sigh.

Christian picks her up after her shift at the hardware store. “She’s dressed in black jeans… Jeans again.” Dude, it’s probably unsafe to wear a skirt when you work around sharp and splintery objects all day! Can you cut her some slack for wearing jeans to a goddamn hardware store?! She’s not here to please your eyes and your dick!

He’s taking her out on a trip in his helicopter, which is called Charlie Tango. I have italicized the name of the helicopter not for emphasis but because it is literally italicized every time it’s mentioned in this book. This is probably too boring and journalism-nerdy to even get into, but dammit, it annoys me. Who copy-edited this trash? I even just Googled “do you italicize the name of a helicopter?” but the results were unhelpful.

“Over there,” I order, pointing to the front passenger seat. “Sit. Don’t touch anything.” I’m amazed when she does as she’s told.

Really? You’re amazed that a small, college-age woman feels intimidated by the commands of an older, authoritative multimillionnaire in an aircraft she doesn’t know how to operate and won’t be able to escape from? What is confusing about that?

Do you remember the shot in the movie where Christian straps her into the seatbelt-harness of the helicopter, like she’s a literal child? That part is even creepier in the book. He’s “trying not to imagine her naked” while he does it, breathing in her “sweet, evocative scent,” and conceptualizing the straps as some kind of bondage device. “You’re secure. No escaping,” he tells her, and then, “I like this harness.” So glad I’m not Ana right now.

“You’re safe with me,” I reassure her, and add, “Well, while we’re flying.” I give her a wink, she beams, and I’m dazzled.

Is this what serial killers’ flirty banter is like?

Before and during the takeoff, there’s lots of technical jabber about helicopter motors and dashboards, etc. E.L. James: always a riveting writer. (Just wait til we get to the BDSM contract, y’all. It leaps off the page, with its many salient details about nutrition and living arrangements and clothing. Yawn.)

“Do you always impress women this way? ‘Come up and fly in my helicopter’?”
“I’ve never brought a girl up here, Anastasia. It’s another first for me. Are you impressed?”

Can we talk about how she used the word “woman” and he immediately switched it out for “girl”? This encapsulates so much about this damn book.

He takes her to his house, which is called Escala. I wonder why its name isn’t italicized like Charlie Tango. (Okay, I’ll stop being a copyediting nerd now, I promise.)

“Do you play?” She looks at the piano.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do. Is there anything you can’t do well?”
“Yes… A few things.” Cook. Tell jokes. Make free and easy conversation with a woman I’m attracted to. Be touched…

Yikes. Just… Yikes.

He has her sign the non-disclosure agreement, which she does willingly. Then she asks if he’s going to “make love” to her tonight and he delivers one of his most well-known lines: “I don’t make love. I fuck, hard.” He invites her to check out his “playroom” and she delivers one of her most well-known lines: “You want to play on your Xbox?” Oh, honey…

He takes her in there and they have an incredibly awkward conversation that seems to indicate pretty clearly what any astute reader knew was true: Christian has very specific desires for Ana and she doesn’t have much knowledge of or interest in what he’s telling her. She seems confused, unsettled, and unwilling. Any half-decent human would have abandoned this whole endeavor if they were in Christian’s shoes, seeing how uncomfortable Ana is. But he’s Christian, and he puts his own agenda first, always.

“So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”
Spot on, Miss Steele.
“It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.” I need your permission, baby. “I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy – it’s a very simple equation.”
“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”
“Me.” I shrug. That’s it, baby. Just me. All of me.

Then he shows her the bedroom where she’ll stay, Fridays through Sundays, if she agrees to the terms of his contract.

“I’ll sleep here?”
“Yes.”
“Not with you.”
“No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you when you’re stupefied with drink.”

Christian, you dumb shit!! You just gave her a powerful incentive to get blackout drunk more often! Not to mention, after he says this, he continues plying her with wine, even though she won’t eat anything and it’s probably not safe for her to be drinking so much on an empty stomach. Ugh, someone please delete this book from my Kindle before I throw it out a window.

“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.” For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.

Like right now, perhaps???

He gets frustrated with her (quite reasonable) series of questions, so he shows her the rules laid out in the BDSM contract. Their ensuing discussion leads to the revelation that Ana is a virgin.

How the hell did I get this so wrong? Anger lances through me. What can I do with a virgin? I glare at her as fury surges through my body. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I growl, and start pacing my study. What do I want with a virgin?

After he calms down a bit, he tells her he wants to “rectify the situation right now.” HOW are women worldwide swooning over this character?! HOW is it at all romantic or exciting for someone to express their desire for you as wanting to “rectify [your] situation”?? A bit later, he rephrases it to, “Please, Ana, let me make love to you,” and that’s better, but still. He should have led with that.

He takes her to his bedroom and there’s a sex scene that is, actually, not terrible. He makes her come by just sucking on her nipples (unrealistic, maybe, but she does admit she’s never masturbated, so maybe a first orgasm would be that easy?) and then they fuck twice in two different positions. You know, if it weren’t for the horrible, awkward dirty talk, E.L. James might not be too awful at writing sex scenes, I will concede.

The chapter ends with Ana falling asleep next to Christian, devirginized and sated and happy. Yes! Get it, girl!

Can we just end the novel here before shit starts to get really scary?

Want to keep reading? Go to the next chapter.

Review: Magic Wand Rechargeable

Kate Sloan

magic-wand-rechargeable

For a long time, I felt about the Hitachi Magic Wand the way I would feel if I met my favorite movie star in person and he turned out to be a sexist asshole.

It just didn’t live up to its cultish following. Certainly, it’s one of the strongest vibrators you can get, and I guess that’s why so many people like it. But vibration strength cannot be the only thing a vibrator has to offer, just as a good-looking man can’t sweet-talk his way into my pants if he also happens to be stupid and rude.

I developed tricks and techniques to make the wand work for me, but still, it tended to languish in my bottom drawer, gathering dust. Eventually I gave it away to a friend… and then, like a scorned lover who keeps returning to the one who hurts her, I bought another one for myself.

It felt like something I “had to” or “ought to” own, not something I wanted to own or liked to use.

But all that has changed now. The Magic Wand has been overhauled in a major way; dropping the “Hitachi” label is the least of these wonderful changes.

magic-wand-rechargeable-buttons-head

I first tried the Magic Wand Rechargeable at #DildoHoliday. I borrowed Piph‘s wand and immediately understood her penchant for “casual Hitachi-ing“: this is a toy that lends itself well to idle, lazy, absent-minded usage – say, while reading fanfic or watching porn. The lowest setting is pleasurable but mild enough that it doesn’t act like clitoral novocaine. I can sit with the head of the wand wedged between my thighs while I scroll through Tumblr, check my phone, or hunt through my drawers for a particular dildo. It turns me on but requires almost zero effort or focus. Neat.

You would think, from the fact that it’s called the Magic Wand Rechargeable, that the most notable change to this toy is its rechargeability. And yeah, it’s great not to be chained to an outlet. But what really excites me about this new wand is that it now has four settings instead of two.

This is a Big Fucking Deal. The old Hitachi’s two settings were ridiculous – I would describe them as “jackhammer” and “jackhammer in an earthquake” – so I usually had to use mine indirectly for it to be comfortable. The two new settings introduced in the rechargeable version are a blessing, a godsend, a revelation. (I am making a lot of religious references… #AllHailHitachi!) The first speed is low, but still pretty stimulating; the second speed, however, is my jam. It’s rumblier than the other settings, making for a deeper, bolder sensation that can get me off with alarming consistency.

The upper two settings are roughly the same as the ones on the original Hitachi. I almost never use them. The toy is quite a bit louder on those high speeds (though the sound reminds me less of a food processor now than the old version did), and they’re also fairly buzzy and numbing. You’ll like ’em if you liked the O.G. Hitachi, but I didn’t, so I don’t.

magic-wand-rechargeable-head

The wand’s head is now made of silicone. HALLE-FUCKIN’-LUJAH. The old head was made of some gross, foamy, porous material, and I’d read far too many horror stories about it getting stained by menstrual blood and all manner of other things. Sex toys should not be stainable! The new wand’s silicone head is entirely smooth, so if your clit loved the texture on the old one, you might be disappointed – but come on: nonporous materials are always better.

The controls aren’t as simple as the flip-switch on the old Hitachi, but they’re still pretty damn simple. One button turns the toy on and off, one cycles through the speeds, and one cycles through the patterns. Easy-peasy. I don’t love vibrators that make you go through the higher speeds to get back to a lower one, but I’m used to dealing with the We-Vibe Tango so that controls scheme doesn’t bug me too much anymore.

The rechargeable wand has a new “feature” where it automatically turns off after 20 minutes, ostensibly to prevent overheating. Weirdly, overheating is an issue that the old wand had but that the new one seems to lack, so this “safety measure” doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. And, as Piph notes, it can seem almost shaming, as if taking longer than 20 minutes would be taking “too long.” Luckily, you can turn the toy right back on again when it turns off.

I actually haven’t encountered the shut-off feature at all, because a) it usually only takes me 5-10 minutes to reach orgasm and b) I typically turn the wand off and on many times during each session so I can get back to the lowest speed. But, before you decide to buy this wand, you should think about the way that you usually use vibrators, and determine whether a loss of power after 20 minutes of continual use would be a potential boner-killer for you.

The rechargeable wand lasts forever on a charge: hours and hours, especially if you tend to use the lower settings. You can use it while it’s plugged in, too. Nicely done, Vibratex!

magic-wand-rechargeable-attachment

As with the previous iteration of the Magic Wand, I tend to use this one with an attachment a lot of the time. It focuses the sensation into a more pinpoint shape, so I can get in between my labia and direct the vibration right onto my clit without buzzing the surrounding area.

However, if you like broader stimulation, obviously the Magic Wand can deliver that smashingly well. My inner labia – not normally a major source of pleasure for me – really enjoy the wand’s vibrations from time to time.

Overall, the Magic Wand Rechargeable is the dependable toybox workhorse I always wanted the Hitachi to be. It does the job and does it well. It’s become a bedside staple for me, and I don’t use that phrase lightly. It’s more than double the price of the original, but that price hike is actually justified.

The Hitachi has often been lauded as the “Cadillac of vibrators,” a one-size-fits-all vibe that could satisfy anyone – and while that’s not true of any sex toy, the Magic Wand Rechargeable is certainly a lot closer to that goal than its predecessor.

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

Kate Sloan

bizcards-3

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).

bizcards

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.

bizcards-2

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!

 

GJ Reads Grey, Chapter 6 (first half)

Kate Sloan

Want to go back? Read the previous chapter or the first chapter.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that chapter 6 starts with Christian climbing into bed next to Ana and watching her sleep for hours. Watching someone sleep is the creeper pastime, after all.

I have never slept with a woman. I’ve fucked many, but to wake up beside an alluring young woman is a new and stimulating experience. My cock agrees.

In the morning, he places some orange juice and Advil next to the bed to soothe Ana’s probable hangover when she wakes up, and then leaves to go for a run. Seems like you should stick around if you take a drunk person home with you, so that they won’t be hella disoriented and terrified when they wake up. But then, of course, this is Christian, and he’s bad at everything.

He’s still calling her “the delectable Miss Steele” in his internal monologue from time to time. This bums me out.

I knock on the door and enter. To my delight, she’s sitting up in bed. The tablets are gone and so is the juice. Good girl.
She pales as I saunter into the room. Keep it casual, Grey. You don’t want to be charged with kidnapping.

Totally, ’cause taking a drunk woman back to your hotel room without her consent and taking her clothes off is A-OK. Right, Christian?

“Did you undress me?”
“Yes.” Who else would have undressed you? …
“We didn’t – ?” she whispers, staring at her hands.
Christ, what kind of animal does she think I am?
“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing.” My tone is dry. “I like my women sentient and receptive.”

It strikes me as a form of pre-emptive gaslighting for him to insist to her that he’s not into “animalistic” kinks like necrophilia, when in fact he is going to ask her to enter into a strict BDSM contract without her having any past experience with kink or even sex. He’s pretty self-deluded if he believes that necrophilia is monstrous but dominating someone you’ve manipulated into uninformed submission is just fine.

They engage in more “flirty banter” about the events of the previous night. Christian refers to himself as a “dark knight” and also tells Ana that if she were “his,” he would punish her with a severe spanking for “putting herself at risk” at the bar. I want to smack my head against a wall because Christian is so dense and seems completely unaware of what a hypocrite he is.

An image of her shackled to my bench, peeled ginger root inserted in her ass so she can’t clench her buttocks, comes to mind, followed by judicious use of a belt or strap. Yeah… That would teach her not to be so irresponsible. The thought is hugely appealing.
She’s staring at me wide-eyed and dazed, and it makes me uncomfortable. Can she read my mind? Or is she just looking at a pretty face.

Then he “grants himself permission to touch her,” and after rubbing her cheek with his finger, he tells her, “Breathe, Anastasia.” This is not the first time he has told her this, as if he thinks his mere presence is enough to steal her breath. Arrogant ass.

When I [return from my shower] she’s out of bed and searching for her jeans… She really has great legs. She shouldn’t hide them in pants.

I had a creep literally say this exact thing in a comment on one of my outfit photos. It is so classic male creep to moralize women’s physical attributes, as if we have an ethical and aesthetic obligation to show off our bodies for the benefit of penises everywhere. This is also the same “logic” that’s used to shame fat or “ugly” women into hiding our bodies: beauty and ugliness are reframed as moral issues. Ugh. I haaaaate it.

A boring scene passes in which Ana showers and they eat breakfast together. Christian comments to her, “Your hair’s very damp,” as if he either forgot she just took a shower or is the most boring conversationalist in the galaxy.

“Anastasia, I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of man. I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me. There’s something about you, though, and I’m finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you’ve figured that out already.”

“I’m not right for you. And I don’t want to be with you. But I do! But I don’t. But you should stay away! But I want you. But I’m annoyed by you! But I want to flog you. But…!” Oh, shut up, Christian. Pick a lane.

My mother once told me that if someone warns you to stay away from them, you should listen. HEAR THAT, ANA?

Her hair is beautiful. Lush. Long. Thick. Idly, I wonder what it would be like to braid.

Christian braiding Ana’s hair is one of the moments in the movie that consistently makes me giggle like a loon. I love the idea that such a supposedly macho man enjoys braiding hair.

However, any affection Christian won from me is instantly decimated again in the next scene. Despite having just told Ana he’s “not going to touch her” (not before she signs the BDSM contract he has in store for her), he looks over at her in the elevator, gets hard “instantly,” and then tells her, “Fuck the paperwork” and aggressively kisses her while pinning her arms above her head.

Granted, she seems pretty into it. If he were to ask her afterward whether she consented, I think she’d give a resounding “yes.” But, as we’ve established, Christian’s notions of consent are troubling at best. I don’t think it’s okay to physically trap/restrain someone during your first kiss with them, unless they’ve explicitly told you they want that. If Ana wasn’t into this kiss, how could she escape? She’s in a moving elevator in a stranger’s hotel and her body is immobilized. Dial it back, Christian.

“You’ve brushed your teeth,” I observe with wry amusement.
“I used your toothbrush,” she says, eyes shining.

Oh god. The banter in this book is intolerable.

As he’s driving her home, Christian tells Ana that what happened in the elevator “won’t happen again… unless it’s premeditated.” Okay, good. So he sees why that kiss was problematic, I guess. Although his usage of the word “premeditated” still seems to indicate that as long as a kiss isn’t spontaneous, it’s still allowable even if it’s not mutually consented to. Or am I reading into this too much?

Chapter 6 is a long one, so I’ll be back next week with the second half of it! (Click here to keep reading.)