Sluts, Studs, and Straightjacket Sexuality – Post over at 21st Century Relationships

Check out this blog post over at 21st Century Relationships:

Sluts, Studs, and Straightjacket Sexuality

Always so great to hear a male perspective that does not include Red Pill/Hamster Wheel/PUA bullshit.  Nathan is one of my favorite bloggers out there, male or female and always has insightful, things that make you go hmmm type things to say.

Taking a Dump – The Ethical Way

Today I officially and, leaving absolutely no room for interpretation, gave the old heave-ho to this guy and this guy.  How do I feel?  Relieved?  Empowered?  Smug?  No.  I feel totally shitty and kind of shaken.  I mean, as exasperating as these two were, they were, at the core, truly nice human beings.  I dated each of them for roughly 2 months a piece, although in retrospect I let things go on for about a  month too long.  Why is it that I give so much latitude, benefit of the doubt and graciousness to those that dump me, but I have no such charitable feelings about myself when I do it to others?

Let’s face it – nobody wants to give out bad news to another person.  I HATE confrontation.  But I realized recently that I had stayed far too long in many situations, not just relationships that were doing nothing for me, or were even damaging me in some way simply because I was too afraid to speak up and assert myself.  Because I was so, so afraid of someone being mad at me or not liking me.  How in the world has it taken me almost 35 years to start getting over this mindset?  How have I been so deeply programmed by bullshit traditional gender narratives that I didn’t even realize I was doing this?  Am I not a kick-ass feminist?  It’s time I started acting like one for fuck’s sake!

It would have been pretty easy to pull the fade on these dudes.  I mean, even the most thick-headed and socially clueless person figures out after a few weeks of unanswered texts that the other person is just no longer interested.  Pulling the fade just isn’t my style.  It’s been done to me PLENTY of times and while the prevailing wisdom out there in the murky swamp of internet dating advice is that this is a perfectly acceptable way to end things, I just can’t bring myself to do that.  I may be a slut, but I try to practice my sluttery in ethical ways.  These fine gentleman, while ultimately not the right fit for me, gave to me their time, their hospitality, and occasional use of their lovely cocks.  It’s the least I can do to end things cleanly and without question, right?  It’s what I would want.  (You listening Karma?  I’m doing the right thing over here.  Throw some good shit my way you bitch!  Just kidding.  I love you).

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to repeat this wretched process 2 or 3 more times before I lose my nerve!

The Bad Date Chronicles – In the Ghetto

Not so charming by day. Scary as F@#ck by night.

I met “Cameron” on the dating site HowAboutWe (which I recommend you check out.  A pretty interesting concept, though I struck out 2 for 2 on it).  His profile was sparse, even by HowAboutWe standards and his date idea – “go to a bar and have a drink” was pretty uninspired.  But I had some time to fill and there was something attractive about his picture.  I responded and we were able to set something up pretty quickly.  We met at a pretty nifty little bar just on the edge of one of San Francisco’s most notorious neighborhoods (or, as someone who doesn’t want to admit to living there would say, “The Theater District”).  He was about 15 minutes late, which, in retrospect is ridiculous as he lived just a few blocks away, but I didn’t mind as there was a pretty good Giants game on and I made friends with the girls next to me.  At one point, they told me that they were rooting for this guy not to show up so that I could just hang out with them all night.  If only the night had taken that turn instead of the one that had me strolling the streets of the ghetto at 1 in the morning.

Once he arrived, and my new friends expressed their disappointment, me and my tall, handsome and oh-so-doable date settled in for a couple of cocktails (I now have a strict 2 drink maximum). It took me very little time to determine that this guy had no long-term dating potential (I am so over the underemployed musician thing after being married to one for over 10 years) but he was just too pretty to pass up.  Besides, The French Boy had been out-of-town for nearly a month and I was definitely overdue for some action.  Once the bill was squared away (a bill that he graciously paid, despite my protestations) I looked him straight in the eye and said that we should go back to his place.  Not one to refuse such a request from a lady, he escorted me a few blocks through the very heart of the beast until we got to his apartment.

We spent the next hour quite enjoyably engaged in adult-type activities until it was time for me to get home.  I was a bit miffed that he didn’t offer to walk me the couple of blocks to the train station, but didn’t really make an issue of it.  I’m a big girl, after all and although I wasn’t super excited about stepping over junkies and avoiding being eaten alive by a homeless man’s pit bull, I made it to the train without incident.

I was surprised the next day to receive a text from my ghetto-licious friend expressing his satisfaction and gratitude and asking when we might see each other again.  I replied that I was busy for the coming week but would get back to him.  In the week that followed, he stayed in contact texting every couple of days.  He even sent a rather awkwardly adorable one saying that if I wanted to spend the night and not have to rush out of there to catch the last train out of the city, he would be more than open to that.  We set up our next date for a few days later and I prepared myself for a rather fun sleepover. 

A Slut’s Call to Arms

A few months back I met someone and actually got to a 3rd date.  On the surface, things looked pretty promising.  And although things didn’t work out (expect another edition of  The Bad Date Chronicles) the real problem existed with my friends.  God love ’em, they always have my best interest at heart, but I couldn’t help but discern a whiff, or in some cases a pungent cloud of judgy slut-shaming swirling around me when I told them about this guy.  My conversations went as such:

“He sounds fantastic.  You better be careful and not sleep with him too soon or this will never turn into anything substantial.”

“Well.  OK.  We haven’t.  I mean…it’s only been 3 dates so…”
“Right, but you should try to hold out as long as you can.  I know that’s hard for you.  But this one sounds like a keeper!”

Preach sistah!

Lest we forget, this is the strategy employed by one Anne Boleyn when she was dating the King.  And we all know how that turned out for her.  While I’m in no danger of losing my (literal) head, I am sort of losing my mind over this.  Why is it that, decades after women’s liberation, our sexuality is still being used as a litmus test for our worth as a person and potential relationship partner?  Wasn’t the whole point of feminism to judge a woman on the basis of her integrity, her intelligence, and her value to the world and not on her gender and sexuality?  And why is it that women are still so quick to judge another woman by the way in which she conducts herself sexually?

Pat Benetar once said that love is a battlefield.  I guess that makes my sexuality my weapon, the cudgel by which I can stun, subdue and capture the enemy.  But what if I don’t want to use it that way?  I don’t see men as an enemy that I need to conquer.  Look, I will freely admit to anyone that will listen that I love sex.  I love it.  I feel like, even though I am well into my 30’s, I just discovered it and just figured out how it works.  If I feel comfortable with someone, comfortable with the situation I’m in and am being safe and healthy about it, I will engage in sexual activity of whatever nature I happen to prefer at the time.  That’s how I roll.  I don’t want to think of how I can parlay this (insert sexual act of choice here) into something else.  I want to have sex for sex’s sake.  Because it’s fun, and enjoyable and life-affirming.  And gosh darnit it just feels awesome and I just realized I was capable of things that I thought only happened in the movies.  Isn’t trading or using sex to get something else just another form of prostitution?

After gently and respectfully making these points, the conversation took this delightful turn:

“So, what can I do? Am I allowed to…”
“Oh no, don’t do that.  He’ll think you do that with everyone.”

“Ok, so what about…”

“No, not that!  Especially not that.  He’ll never want you to be his girlfriend if you do that.”

Which brings me to my next point.  Men – you aren’t getting off the hook here.  I have many bones to pick with you as well.  If a woman puts out “too soon” why does that preclude her from being relationship material?  What the heck is too soon anyway?  If you suspect that she has been around the block a few times, why is that such an issue?  How, exactly, is one supposed to pick up the skills necessary in order to be proficient sexually if they have not gone out into the world and gained experience?  After all, practice does indeed make perfect.  If you’ve been on the receiving end of some particularly stunning sexual act, you should be calling up the lady’s past partners and thanking them for letting her practice and perfect her art.

This dynamic played itself out recently on an episode of Jersey Shore, which is a fascinating study of male-female dynamics and sexuality.  It is also trashy and escapist, but I digress.  In short, the men on this show are total sluts.  They objectify women routinely (females deemed as non-attractive are designated as “grenades”) and bring home random women for sexual trysts on a regular basis.  Yet, when one of the girls (Snooki, the fabulous little one) does the very same thing, she is rejected by her crush Vinny who himself had JUST DONE THE VERY SAME THING.  Now, I realize that using Jersey Shore to make my point may not be the wisest thing to do, but these children are our future.  And these backwards notions of female sexuality are still alive and well.

Does it suck when you sleep with someone and they never call back?  Sure it does.  Even though I’m a slut, I’m still a human being believe it or not. I do have feelings.  But when it does happen, I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.  Because I realize that if a man is going to judge me based on my sexuality, he is not the kind of man who I want to be with.  Period.  End of discussion.  Does that mean the number of men that I may be able to have a relationship with is smaller for me than for a non-slut?  Perhaps.  I am OK with this.  There’s just no room in my life to hide, to compromise, to ever feel less-than because of who I am.  I spent the last decade of my life doing that and it’s a place I intend to never return to.

When it comes to relationships, how the other person treats you, how they respect you and makes you feel about yourself are far more important than on which date you were able to slide into home plate.  Read that last sentence again.  Once more.  Ok, now repeat it.  Learn it.  Internalize it.  Now, go forth sluts (male and female alike), and conquer the world!

P.S. – What happened to this guy?  I ended up NOT sleeping with him.  And he never called me back for a 4th date.  Guess I should have just gotten it while the getting was good!