My annual massive blogiversary sex toy giveaway is here!
Choose from some of my all-time favorites: vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, a sleeve, a packer, a harness, and even a $150 gift certificate. About half the prizes are also open to international readers!
(Reblogging counts, just use the entry form as well.)
The girls are never supposed to end up together. I watched that movie with Ellen Page and Alia Shawkat, the roller-skating movie, the one where Ellen and Alia are best friends, each other’s only comforts in their podunk town. They need each other, and they hug, and they dance, and they tell each other I Love You, and Ellen meets a skinny boy who plays in a band. It doesn’t even work out with the boy, but that’s almost tangential. The girl was never a real option. I think that’s why it’s really difficult for girls. For me. We follow narratives and our fingertips trace the contours of the stories we love and we long to escape within the confines of our own lives. Meet your boyfriend in the pouring rain and yank down his mask and kiss him upside down. Run with your boyfriend to the front of the ferry and throw your arms out to the side and scream, “I’m king of the world!” If you are a girl in love with a boy, your possibilities are infinite. If there is a special girl in your life, you love her as a friend. You love her as a friend, but she becomes less important to you as you grow, and you leave her behind for a boy. She might even stand next to you when you marry the boy, and she might catch the bouquet of flowers that you throw to her. You’re giving her permission to move on, move away from you. It’s a ceremony of separation. But if you should fall in love with a girl - and loving and falling in love are two very distinct things - the first kiss is the end. You’ve all seen the movie. Or the television show. Or the after-school special, or you’ve read the book that was banned from your school’s library for containing Sexual Content. The point of your story is not to fall in love. The point of your story is to struggle. Your story begins with a lie and climaxes in a truth and ends with a kiss. In the movie of your life, forty-five minutes are devoted to you figuring out how to say that you want to kiss girls, and another half-hour is devoted to people’s objections, and maybe the last fifteen minutes is you kissing the girl. Maybe you don’t even get to kiss the girl. Maybe she tells you that she’s flattered, but she doesn’t bat for your team. The critics swoon; it’s realistic, they say, so realistic, to depict the struggle of the modern teen, the heartbreak of irresolvable incompatibility. Isn’t that always what celebrities cite in their divorces? “Irreconciliable differences.” And so you’re lying on the floor of your bathroom, your knees curled to your chest, or you’re on your sofa with a pint of ice cream, or you’re in bed watching your favourite sad movie on Netflix, and the collective weight of all that you consume settles on your shoulders, leans in, and whispers, “You were never meant to fall in love.” You were never meant to fall in love. Your story ends in tears or it ends in death. Jack Twist was bludgeoned to death with a tire iron and Ennis Del Mar was left alone in his closet to dance with an empty shirt. Alby Grant found Dale Tomasson swinging by a noose in the apartment that had been their safehouse, their respite, and he sank to his knees and cradled Dale’s bare feet and he cried. The Motion Picture Association of America axed Lana Tisdel and Brandon Teena’s sex scenes, but they didn’t have a problem with the extended shot of Lana cradling Brandon’s corpse in her fragile arms and falling asleep next to his body. Love and intimacy are ours only in death, or so it would seem. I don’t want to die. Isn’t that a very human experience? Not wanting to die? When does anyone who looks like me get to grow old and raise grandchildren and hold her wife’s hand as the skin wrinkles, turns translucent? Sometimes my father asks me if I’ll ever date a man. Sometimes he doesn’t ask. “You are attracted to men, and you dream about falling in love with men,” he says, as if he can will his imaginary daughter into existence merely by speaking about her. Or maybe he is just looking out for my safety. He’s seen the movies, too. He loves me. He doesn’t want me to die.
I have begun Full-Shave November.
This is fucking awful. HOW DO YOU DO THIS????
I was in the shower shaving for like… 45 minutes, and I STILL had to forgo shaving one of my legs because I was concerned I was running late for lunch (it turns out I wasn’t, but whatever).
I also ruined my razor, because I didn’t think to trim any of my hair first, but that’s okay.
Also look at all that fucking hair. There’s so much of it. I had no idea I had that much hair on me.
Tomorrow I will shave my left leg and run clean-up on basically everywhere else (it’s pretty patchy).
Aren’t you supposed to grow a mustache? what the fuck is full shave november.
The opposite of No Shave November. Lots of women get flak for participating in No Shave November and letting their body hair grow out (I can’t find the post with a bunch of screencapped tweets about it, but this is the next best thing), but the vast majority of guys (myself included) have absolutely no idea what a pain feeling like you have to shave your body hair is like. So, for the entirety of the month, I will be shaving my legs, chest, and armpits on a regular basis (as well as my usual regimen of shaving my face).
This idea. I like it. Another.
The puking pubic conspiracy
It tears me apart to hear my partner ratter on about how unhygenic my pubic hair can be when I clearly know that he wants to see it off me. For his own desires.
That’s really upsetting! I think it’s ridiculous and I hope you continue to keep it the way you want it. It’s your body and you get to choose what you want to do with it. I hope you can get him to understand that.
(Not to mention, it really isn’t unhygienic per se. You either keep clean or you don’t. Someone recently told me that most men aren’t very concerned about cleaning their junk - OP, if you’re not male yourself, I suggest you ask your partner how hygienic he thinks he is. Maybe rattle on about it a little just for effect.)
Here’s a Scarleteen post on pubic hair addressed to women, but the general principle applies to everyone.
Combating bullying and anti-gay sentiment doesn’t constitute an approval of any kind of sexual activity; it recognizes that social castigation of people (or kids) who don’t comply with norms of gender performance or perceived sexual orientation is particularly vicious and dangerous, and works to prevent that for the sake of childrens’ lives. Opposing that work because of an outdated sense of sexual conservatism is both rhetorically meaningless and actively harmful to a group of people that genuinely needs support and protection. The lives of gay kids are just as important and worthwhile as the lives of straight kids, but even beyond that, “gay bullying” doesn’t just affect gay kids, it affects all kids. Strict policing of gender and sexuality hurts everyone, and when children are involved, there’s no excuse for pontificating about our own fears and hangups instead of focusing on their needs.