On Using Dating Sites During a Pandemic

Kate Sloan

At the beginning of this pandemic, I thought, “Guess nobody’s gonna be dating for a while” – but my friends are proving me wrong.

It’s been fascinating to observe. I have friends who’ve logged onto OkCupid just to have flirty, esoteric text chats with strangers, friends who’ve sipped coffee on Zoom dates with cute new beaux also sipping coffee in their apartment across town, and friends who’ve even met up with potential paramours for socially-distanced park picnics or patio hangs. Knowing and trusting that my friends are staying smart and staying safe (to the best of their ability within a harm-reduction framework), I admire their ingenuity in the face of the lockdown loneliness that’s hit many people hard.

I myself have even scrolled through Tinder once in a while during this global crisis (old habits die hard), looking to strike up a volley of banter with someone hot and smart. It’s not that I’m necessarily looking for new partners or dates – in fact, I very much do not have the energy for that these days, and wouldn’t feel safe meeting up with strangers just yet. It’s that I miss the sense of serendipity and possibility that comes with, say, discovering the guy sitting next to you at the cocktail bar loves the same longform improv troupe you do, or blushing when the cute clerk at the bodega tells you she likes your dress. These little hits of romantic “what if?” are so small, and rarely lead to anything more (for me, at least), but some days they are the social fuel that keeps me going. So if asking random Tinder folks offbeat questions just for the sake of conversation is the safest way to access that feeling these days, I commend anyone who chooses to do it in order to hold onto their social sanity and sense of hope.

Here are some crucial commandments to follow – in my opinion, which is not necessarily the wisest and certainly not the most medically informed opinion, mind you! – if you want to use dating services for just such purposes while we wait for a vaccine and a return to quasi-normalcy:

  1. Pick the right site/app for you. This is always the first step I recommend when embarking on online-dating adventures, because these days, the options are so plentiful and so varied that you can actually tailor your choice to your tastes and priorities. Click around the site/app to get a sense for its overall culture and what its users are generally into, whether that be casual hookups, long-term relationships, non-monogamy, or whatever else. If you’re not sure, you can also read reviews (like this Uberhorny review) of the site/app you’re considering using. Pro tip: I would imagine that sites and apps which have actively issued safety warnings to their users about COVID-19 – like Tinder and Grindr – are likelier to have cultures wherein fewer mask-eschewers and “plandemic” believers can fester.
  2. Be upfront about your intentions, ideally right in your bio so no one has to waste time on you if their desires don’t align with yours. If you’re only up for phone dates and Skype dates for the next several months, say so. If you’re hopeful that that’ll include phone sex, sexting, or what-have-you, say so. If you’re looking for someone to actually meet up with IRL during all this, say so – and include information about what safety measures you would expect to implement around that, and what you’d expect from a potential date in that arena. I know this isn’t the most “chill” stuff to put on your profile, but look, we’re not living in “chill” times.
  3. Don’t lower your standards just because times are tough and pickings are slim. Yeah, maybe all you’re seeking is a torrid sexting session with a rando, but you still deserve a rando who’s polite, respectful, and makes you feel good! Try to remember what your dating priorities were before this mess started (I know, it can be difficult to hearken back to The Before) and do your best to seek people who line up with that. It’s true that priorities can change in troubling times, but the basic facts are always still there: you don’t need to put up with people you find rude, entitled, or boring. You still deserve the high-quality connections you want – whatever that means to you – even if circumstances feel pretty different now.
  4. Make digital dates feel like “real” dates in whatever ways work for you. That might be dressing up, lighting some candles, tidying your room, making yourself a nice meal or cocktail to enjoy while you chat with your new cutie, or something else entirely. The ritual of dating has always been one of my favorite things about it, and if that’s true for you too, it’d be a pity to miss out on that comfort and excitement just because you’re stuck at home. You don’t have to have that sexting session while wearing dirty sweatpants and rocking unbrushed teeth – in fact, you’d probably feel much sexier during the convo if you didn’t!
  5. Come prepared with questions or games, because – as you might know – phone dates and Skype dates can be a little awkward at first. True, in-person dates can also be weird as fuck, but most of us have more experience with them and know how to navigate their weirdnesses better. In case of uncomfortable silences, you can usually remark on something in your environment or ask the bartender a question or whatever – not so when you’re holed up in the same bedroom you’ve been stuck in for ages! Plus, most of us have had fewer everyday social interactions these past few months than we did before, so our ability to be smooth and chatty may have eroded slightly. If I was trying to meet new dates online at this time, I would prep a few interesting questions to ask my date, and frame it (if necessary) as a game where we ask each other questions – or just set it up by simply saying, “Can I ask you something weird that I’m curious about?” You could even send your date this list of questions and take turns asking each other things.
  6. Allow for adjustments if and when you end up meeting a new beau in person, whether that’s a few weeks from now or way out in the future when the pandemic has died down significantly. I recently interviewed dating expert Camille Virginia about finding love in the time of coronavirus, and she reminded me that intimacy and rapport can feel very different online than they do offline – so your super-hot phone-sex pal might not immediately turn your crank once you can actually touch them, smell them, and see how they move through the world, but that’s okay. It takes time to adjust to each other’s in-person conversational rhythms and quirky mannerisms. “If you had a great connection over video or phone calls, try to establish a new norm with that in person,” Camille says, “because it’s a different way of being with each other. Give it a little longer.”

Have you been using dating sites/apps during the pandemic? What’s your strategy?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

My New Tattoo is an Ode to Writing

Kate Sloan

One oft-repeated truism about tattoos is that once you get your first one, you’ll just want more and more. Obviously this isn’t true for everyone, but it has certainly been true for me. I got my first tattoo 5 years ago and have gotten about one per year since then.

When I got my first book deal last year and submitted the completed manuscript earlier this year, I pondered tattoos I could get to memorialize the experience. Several linguistically-inclined friends of mine have writing-themed tattoos – an ampersand, a typewriter, a pen nib – and I always oohed and aahed over them while knowing that they weren’t ideal images for my own scribe-centric ink. I don’t use typewriters (at least, not since a multimedia zine project in 2010), I don’t often pick up a fountain pen, and plain punctuation just doesn’t jive with my preferred tattoo style: colorful, quirky, and fun.

However, over the past couple years, two writing implements came into my possession that I thought were pretty enough to get tattooed on me: the pink and silver limited-edition Blackwing Volume 54 pencil, and the peacock-blue Retro 51 Tornado pen. Both have become desktop staples for me; I make scribbled notes with them during podcast recordings and journalism interviews, write in my journal with them over steaming cups of tea, tuck them into my bag when I go out incase of a writing emergency… These two tools have fast become some of the most beloved (and most beautiful) members of my collection.

I vaguely knew they might look good in a tattoo together on my upper left arm, perhaps with a purple background to bridge the color-spectrum gap between their pink and blue hues (and also to mirror the shades of the bisexual pride flag!), but I didn’t know exactly how they should be arranged on my skin. So I emailed Laura Blaney – the Etobicoke-based artist who also did the pink bows on my thighs and the stunning flowers on my right arm – and attached some reference images. We met up for a consultation at her studio, and I felt – as I have every other time I’ve gone to see her – that she 100% understood what I wanted, and would be able to provide it. Yay!

Unfortunately, then we had to postpone our appointment for 4 months because of the pandemic. But it wasn’t really that frustrating, because I got to spend those extra months thinking about the design and making sure I really, really wanted it – which I did. By the time we finally rebooked in July, Laura’s studio had put health and safety measures into place to keep the environment as COVID-proof as possible – and reputable tattoo parlors are also, by necessity, already pretty damn safe and sanitized to begin with.

On the day of my appointment, I took all my usual safety measures (mask, hand sanitizer, obsessive hand-washing), and took an Uber to the studio. The tattooing stations were appropriately socially distanced, and the few other people present were all wearing masks the entire time. Laura wiped down my phone and Kindle to sanitize them when I arrived, so I could use them safely while getting tattooed. We discussed layouts and colors a bit, settled on the design I wanted, and then started the inking process.

I had been worried it would be more painful than my previous tattoos, because my chronic pain disorder has gotten worse over the past couple years and some say it’s a result of increased neurological sensitivity to pain overall. But it barely hurt, and certainly not anywhere near as badly as my thigh tattoos, easily the most painful ones I’ve gotten (that skin is sensitive!). The only bothersome parts of it were the tops of the pen and pencil, where they curve slightly onto the bony part of my shoulder. Everything else was just a low-level scratchy feeling that I easily tuned out while losing myself in my e-reader.

The final result is exactly what I wanted: colorful, eye-catching, and meaningful. It’s a similar size and color palette to the floral tattoo on my other arm, so I look (and feel!) more symmetrical. And it’s also an instant conversation-starter about one of my favorite topics to discuss: writing!

Thanks so much, as always, to Laura for her tireless and meticulous work on this piece of art. I know I’ll adore it for many, many years to come.

 

Previous posts about my tattoos:

Book Review: Brothel’s Kitchen

Kate Sloan

Sex work is such a normalized field in my sex-positive, feminist communities that sometimes I sort of forget just how stigmatized it is in the world at large – even among people who claim to be “liberal” and “progressive.”

Narratives persist about how all sex work is nonconsensual and exploitative, despite sex workers screaming on social media for years that they’ve chosen their career path and don’t want or need to be “rescued.” Many people still use phrases like “selling your body” to talk about what is actually just the sale of your time and your body-based services, just like what happens in many other fields like massage, modeling, and professional sports. Far too many well-intentioned people try to argue that sex work is bad because it’s “disempowering,” as if the slog of earning a living is held to the same standard of “empowerment” in any other field. It’s perplexing and enraging – especially since so many of these folks think they’re being helpful by parroting their bullshit opinions that are (you guessed it) actively disempowering to sex workers.

I think a lot of this misinformation has to do with sex work’s representation (or lack thereof) in mainstream media, from the evening news to procedural dramas to blockbuster movies. For decades, if not longer, it’s been framed over and over as something one would only do under the direst of financial circumstances, or to get access to drugs, or to quench a psychological craving based in “daddy issues” or other trauma. While obviously there is poverty, addiction, and trauma in the sex work community (just as those things exist in pretty much every other community too), these narratives usually leave out the ways in which sex work can be incredibly positive and enriching for workers and their clients. And hey, newsflash: a job doesn’t have to be 100% peachy all the time to be a valid job worthy of respect and protections. We live under capitalism! Work sucks! Let people choose work that they like to do and feel able to do, since we all have to work anyway!

All this to say, I think positive portrayals of sex work are invaluable in shifting public perception of this misunderstood field. So I was pleased to be asked to review Phillipa Zosime’s new memoir, Brothel’s Kitchen: Flavours of Women.

The book follows Phillipa’s induction into the sex work industry in Austria. It opens with a series of scenes set at a massive orgy held by one of the brothels she works for, at which she’s expected to fuck and fellate clients for 7 hours (with breaks to shower, hydrate, eat, and rest). After she enjoys herself and gets paid, there’s a classic “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation…” flashback and we turn back time to when she first entered the sex work world. Once an archaeology student and political intern, she decided instead to follow her fascination with sex and start having it professionally.

One very interesting aspect of this book to me is the details about Austria’s legal and regulated sex work industry. Regular STI tests are required, workers are considered self-employed contractors for the brothels they frequent, and meticulous paperwork is kept to make sure everything is legit. Many sex workers I know in Canada and the U.S. advocate for decriminalization rather than legalization/regulation, since (among other reasons) legislative bodies don’t tend to know very much about what sex workers and their clients actually need and want – but nonetheless, it was intriguing to hear about how brothels are apparently run over in Austria. The book goes into detail about how profits are split up between workers, madams, and house owners, as well as how much they pay in taxes and what kind of legal due diligence they’re expected to keep up with on a regular basis. These procedural minutiae ought to captivate anyone who’s curious about sex work law around the world.

Another fascinating detail from Philippa’s story is that she had only had one sexual partner before becoming a sex worker. It hadn’t been the most satisfying relationship, and she ended up having her first-ever orgasm with a client at the brothel (which became a point of pride for him and a running joke between them!). This was the point in the book when I started to get excited: it’s a really uncommonly positive depiction of what a career in sex work can be like. If there were more stories like this out there – stories that showcase the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful parts of sex work – I think far fewer people would hold shitty misconceptions about the industry.

Yes, there are scary and sad parts of Phillipa’s story. Her friend dies; clients blow up in anger on occasion; women get into snippy arguments; someone’s money gets stolen from her safety deposit box at the brothel. But all of these details just felt really real to me. Writing a fully rosy sex work memoir would, I imagine, be just as absurd as making any other career sound 100% fun 100% of the time. Life has its ups and downs, and so do our jobs, no matter what field we work in.

In addition to heartwarming sex-work friendships and heart-pounding sex-work problems, this book also contains quite a few funny stories that had me literally LOLing. There’s one in particular about one girl accidentally spitting cum onto another girl’s face that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget…

I gotta say, I liked Brothel’s Kitchen even more than I was expecting to. It’s charming, and cute, and fast-paced, and full of strange and illuminating details. There’s a disclaimer at the beginning that explains that “the events and conversations in this book have been set down to the best of the author’s ability,” and that “the author’s recollection of the past occurrences may deviate from those of others,” but there are so many parts of this book that seem like you couldn’t possibly have made them up. That realness is the heart and soul of Phillipa’s writing, and it makes this one hell of a page-turner.

 

Thanks so much to Phillipa Zosime for providing this book for me to review! This post was sponsored, which means that I was paid to write a fair and honest review of the book I was provided with. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Hot Octopuss Amo

Kate Sloan

I always find it amusing when a sex toy company makes both a product I hate and a product I love. Why does the Dame Kip satisfy my clit while the Dame Eva buzzily tumbles from my labia in laughably short order? Why does the We-Vibe Tango make me swoon while the We-Vibe Wish distracts me to the point of rage? Why does the Fun Factory Stronic Eins give me deep, throbbing orgasms while the Fun Factory LayaSpot just makes me sigh and give up?

Well, the answer is that not every sex toy works well for every body – and that’s a good thing. It means there’s enough variety within the sex toy industry to accommodate almost anyone, at least pleasure-wise.

I bring this up because today’s blog post is about a Hot Octopuss toy. Hot Octopuss previously made the Queen Bee, a vibrator that ticks several of my “I hate this” boxes: it creates far too much noise and far too little sensation, and it has a frustratingly and unnecessarily cissexist name. But Hot Octopuss shouldn’t be written off entirely, because they’ve also made several top-notch toys, like my partner’s beloved penis vibe, the Pulse, and the toy I’m reviewing today, the Amo.

The Amo is a really fucking good vibrator. Hot Octopuss is known primarily for the rumbly motors in their penile toys, and they seem to have brought that technology into the clitoral sphere. The Amo visibly and tangibly rumbles from the moment you turn it on. This is not at all a wimpy vibrator like so many on the market.

It’s also a really pretty toy. I like the black-with-red-ombré aesthetic, and the top-heavy shape sets this vibe apart from standard bullets, albeit while preventing it from being useable in, say, the bullet-vibe hole at the base of some dildos. The shape allows for a lot of different types of sensation: you can position the squishy, pointed tip on your clit if you like focused stimulation, or use various other spots on the toy’s shaft for broader and/or firmer touch.

The aforementioned squishiness is worth keeping in mind if you’re used to using hard plastic bullet vibes like the We-Vibe Tango or ScreamingO Charged Vooom. Silicone – the material that the main body of the Amo is made of – has more give to it than plastic, and also muffles vibrations slightly. The Amo’s motor is strong enough to make up for it, but if you like full-strength, focused vibrations that are almost sharp in quality, hard plastic will still probably be your best bet.

The Amo has 5 steady speeds and 5 patterns. This should be plenty for most users, although I have found myself wishing on a couple of occasions that there was just one or two extra speeds on the top end.

For me, the controls of this toy are a little awkward. One small button on one side of the shaft turns the vibe on and off, while two equally small buttons on the other side control the vibration intensity. None of the buttons are placed where my fingers naturally want to rest while holding this toy, so there’s always a bit of reaching and readjusting involved. However, if you’re someone who tends to accidentally bump buttons while using a vibe, disrupting your own pleasure, you might find this layout functions better for you.

I wish the USB-rechargeable Amo’s battery life was better – you get up to 40 minutes of use for every charge, and charging takes 2-3 hours. However, given that its best-known competitor, the Tango, has a notoriously shitty battery that has necessitated me replacing mine once every couple of years, I don’t mind needing to charge a toy more often in the short-term if it will last me longer in the long-term. (This, however, remains to be seen, as I’ve only owned my Amo for a couple of months.)

Overall, the Hot Octopuss Amo is what all too many clitoral vibrators wish they were. It’s strong, rumbly, quiet, elegant, portable, waterproof, and relatively inexpensive – just $49, versus $79–99 for toys of similar type and quality. I’m still married to my bedside bestie the Eroscillator, but the Amo has definitely entered my rotation of favored small vibes for travel and overnights. Congrats to Hot Octopuss for making something that’s not only better than their abysmal Queen Bee, but actually genuinely excellent.

 

Thanks to Hot Octopuss for sending me this toy to review!

15 Ways to Take Yourself on a Date During COVID Times

Kate Sloan
Pictured drinking a martini on the roadside patio at the Queen & Beaver.

I’m a long-standing proponent of the self-date, but a pandemic is not exactly the best time to go on one, to say the least. Just because you’re by yourself doesn’t automatically mean you’re self-isolating to a medically appropriate degree, y’know?

We all have our own unique lifestyles, financial situations, and risk tolerance levels in these scary times, so I know not all of these suggestions will work for you, whether due to geographic limitations, immunosuppression, anxiety, money, or any other factors. But here are some ideas for self-dates in pandemic times. Take what works for you (and what doesn’t terrify you) and leave the rest.

For the purposes of this post, let’s assume that ALL of the following activities will be performed while wearing a mask (if applicable – there are a few where it wouldn’t make sense, like those involving eating or drinking), staying several feet away from anyone you encounter, avoiding touching things as much as possible, washing your hands whenever you can, and using hand sanitizer as needed. Okay? Okay.

Go on a really long walk. This has become one of my sanity-saving measures in COVID times. It gets you outside, it gets your body moving, but it doesn’t necessarily require you to interact with anyone or endanger anyone, including yourself. Load up your phone with podcasts that make you laugh or music that makes you smile, slather yourself in sunscreen, try not to get too frustrated when the warm air emerging from your mask fogs up your sunglasses, and enjoy the day as best you can.

Read a book somewhere pretty. I’m fortunate to live within walking distance of Toronto’s harborfront; I’m sure there’s somewhere idyllic near you, even if it’s just the tiny dog park across the street. Bring a blanket so you don’t have to worry about sitting on mud, etc.

Talk on the phone from an unfamiliar location. Okay, this is more of a friend-date (or date-date) than a self-date, but you’re still physically by yourself so it kinda counts! If there’s someone you miss and are dying to talk to, you may as well do it in a locale more exciting than the house/apartment/room you’ve been trapped in for months. Take your phone (and maybe a hands-free headset situation) to a park, or a lake, or a quiet alley.

Do a selfie photoshoot in public. I can already hear you yelling that this would be embarrassing and strange. I know. That’s kind of the point of this one. We live in an era when social norms are breaking down because the world is kinda breaking down. You might as well tote a selfie stick to a place with a good backdrop and take some goofy shots of yourself in your mask et al. You can think of it as a historical document you’re creating so future sociologists will see what these times were like – or it can just be something you look back on in a couple years and (hopefully) think, “Thank god that’s over.” Bonus points if you do your makeup for the occasion (albeit only on the parts of your face that’ll be visible!).

Pick up a to-go meal from your favorite restaurant, if it’s still in operation (womp womp). This is a good excuse to go on a journey, and is also fancier and more self-care-y than just heating up another frozen burrito in your microwave. (No? Just me?)

Deliver food or gifts to someone you love. You don’t have to get anywhere near them to do this; you can just leave it on their stoop or in their mailbox, and text or call to let them know. Probably your isolated elderly great-aunt could use some toilet paper or your best friend would appreciate some basil from your herb garden.

Assign yourself a scavenger hunt. Go for a walk and… take a photo of every pink thing you see? Try to walk along 5 streets you’ve never set foot on before? Bird-watch? People-watch (from afar)? There’s always something to see, if you’re looking.

Arrange a movie night for yourself. Go all out: pick two films that work well as a double feature, plan your menu (even if it’s just popcorn and a beer), ask your friends to watch along with you if you feel like it, and settle in for a nice night of entertainment.

Be near water. If there are no oceans or lakes or rivers or streams or ponds within walking distance of you, maybe there’s an outdoor fountain or a mostly-closed wading pool or somesuch. Clementine Morrigan says being near water is good for calming your nervous system and I am inclined to agree.

Visit a significant (outdoor) place from your past, like a neighborhood you used to live in or a park where you had your first kiss. Take your journal, if you’re that way inclined, and write about how the place makes you feel and what memories it brings up.

Learn to make a new meal/drink/treat. Have you ever tried to do this with a partner? It can be wonderfully silly and fun, and there’s no reason you can’t have that same type of experience solo. The internet is full of recipes for delicious delicacies, beautiful baked goods, and top-notch tipples. Best of all, you’ll have something yummy to show for your travails when you’re done.

Take a decadent bath. Who says dates have to involve leaving your house? You can jazz up a bath (or even a languorous shower) with all sorts of goodies: beautifully-scented body wash, Epsom salts, candles, hot oil hair treatments… or just bring a waterproof sex toy in with you and call it a day!

Buy a new sex toy. A lot of sex shops are offering curbside pickup now, and they need your financial support more than ever – so if you have the means, why not buy yourself a pleasurable treat? Then take it home and seduce yourself…!

Go geocaching. I’ve never done this but it seems like a relatively low-risk thing to do these days as long as you stick to little-trafficked areas and thoroughly sanitize anything you take home with you. Here’s a video where Justin McElroy explains how to geocache.

Eat/drink on a patio. Many people still have very mixed feelings about doing this, which is very reasonable, and I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to skip this one. Where I am, in Toronto, patio tables have to be properly distanced from each other, waitstaff have to get your info on file for contact-tracing, and masks and hand sanitizer are everywhere – so I feel pretty safe sitting down for a drink or a small meal at local places I hope don’t go under. Bring a book or other diversion, be polite as hell to the staff (they have it rough right now), and tip generously.

 

How have you been romancing yourself and going on self-dates in these difficult times? Or what would you like to be doing?