I have no idea who you are, but your minds are delicious.

My boyfriend and I are doing some anal play, with an eventual goal of anal sex. Unfortunately he’s a rather girthy guy and the pretty little butt plug I bought simply doesn’t come close to approximating him. Yesterday we went to the toy shop and did some looking for an intermediate step, or something slightly larger than he is, to keep working toward our goal.

All I could think was how intimidating the buttplugs look! The ones with gradual girth increases are all slim enough to not be useful and the rest either get fat really fast or incorporate some shape that frankly looks scary as hell.

We wound up getting a silicone dong that starts about where the plug leaves off and has a very gentle girth increase until it qualifies me for his lovely cock, and then some.

Plus, it was way cheaper than the ” anal trainer ” toys.

Am I the only woman out there who doesn’t really care about the toys (although I thoroughly enjoy myself when we use them) except as a means to an end? I don’t want it to vibrate or oscillate or be beaded or engraved or whatever else those things were. I just want it to be what I need, a way to allow my body to adjust to the point where I can give my love something he really likes.

This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever read that incorporates the word “dong”. I hope your system is paying off in anal orgasms and a sex life that gets better by the day.

I’ve found myself in a crisis situation. I have to have strong vibrations to get off, and my vibrator just broke. I go to school in a tiny, rural town without a sex-toy shop. My credit card is still under my parent’s account, so I can’t use it to order a new one off the internet. And I won’t be in a big city again until Christmas break.

Hopefully you already found a replacement, but if this happens again, remember that Amazon has sex toys. Who would question an innocent bookstore charge on a credit card statement? All you ordered was a package of AA batteries to go with your, uh, kitten calendar. Yeah.

I have fancied a guy for a while now and when we see each other we tend to flirt a bit / a lot depending on the occasion. Last night I revved myself up for a good night out with him present and hoped I could take things a little further. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long and I ended up flirting with another guy I barely knew before.

Now I can’t decide what I want.

Well, I actually do know what I want. I want to keep flirting and kissing and snogging and possibly more both of them. At least for a little while. Because in the end, I still think I’m monogamous. But a girl’s gotta have some fun. With a little luck, they’ll both be up for some non-exclusive fun.

I have never been able to wrap my mind around people who expect exclusivity while casually dating, before making an explicit agreement to be exclusive.

Whenever I read confessions from married/attached people about having very infequent sex I think ”I can sympathize. I know exactly where you’re coming from” and then, invariably, they complain because they’re only having sex like once a week. OH the HORROR. You poor thing. What I wouldn’t give to have sex once a week. In the last 7 weeks I can count, on one hand, how many times we’ve had sex. In fact, I can count the number of times on one hand, that had a freak farming accident, and had 4 fingers amputated. So, quit bitching about your once a week sex life and consider yourself lucky. (but I’m not bitter).

I feel your pain. Intensely. In another week I’ll be able to count the sex I’ve had in the last seven weeks on zero hands. Which is good, I guess, because those hands are occupied with furiously fapping and flipping off my life.

Of course, if I ever get married or have a live-in partner again, I do hope it will be with someone who wants to bone more than once a week. I really and truly do.

I have developed a huge crush on a co-worker. She’s pretty much amazing, as far as I’m concerned. I sat in my meeting today imagining all things I want to do to her and all the hot girl sex we could be having. Her style is super edgy and I don’t know if I’m judging her personal sense of style (which is incredibly ”non-normative”) and applying that to other aspects of her personality or if I might be pegging her as possibly queer because I want her to be queer as a consequence of my super big crush. A part of me feels like a judgmental jerk. The other part is still super turned on. I’ve decided not to press the issue and actually find out her orientation. I think the fantasy would be ruined should I discover she’s super super straight.

Wait, let me get this straight: you feel like a judgmental jerk for having had your gaydar tripped?

You know what is a good remedy for guilt? Hot girl sex.

Hey, guys! Visit the Sex Confessional!

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But may the good stuff make up for them twelve times over this year!

Every week, when I read the confessions, and mine aren’t there (I think I’ve sent in 3 over the past several weeks) it gives me a sad.

I hope this brightens up your day. The only confession of yours that I know to put up has made it into the very first ConTuesday of the year!

If you’re still disappointed, fear not. I have a tingly sensation in my earlobes that tells me I’ll get to the others before too long. I’m practically the groundhog that way.

I am starting to feel like a Nice Guy.

I’m a sadistic top, and there are few things that get me wetter than tying someone up and torturing them (consensually!) for an hour or more. My relationships don’t always allow for this sort of play, so I sometimes play with different people (again, with the knowledge and consent of my partners).

I swear to everything that is holy, submissives are the most goddamn annoying group of people I’ve ever met. Since I’m still “young” by BDSM terms, most of the people with whom I play are fairly new to the scene. In between navigating “Tigger Syndrome”, daddy issues, and bizarre and creepy relationship requests (I agreed to hit you, that does not mean that we’re engaged or have a deep emotional connection, or, heaven forbid, that I’m the only one who REALLY UNDERSTANDS you.), I have to deal with people who find the idea of limits abhorrent.

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. I figured you could just tie me up and hurt me for a bit.”

“Okay, do you have any way you like to be hit? Caning, flogging, spanking…?”

*Pulls face* “You know, my PREVIOUS master didn’t ask questions. He just did what he wanted. Are you sure you’re really a top?”

Why yes, yes, I AM sure, and I’m sorry that trying not to kill you or cause emotional damage ruins the mood. (Spoiler: I’m really not.)

I get people complaining that I do things like check for circulation and breathing, or that I ask for a list of hard limits, or that I spend the first few sessions getting a feel for the bottom rather than just wailing on them until they safeword. The way I learned it, that’s how to be a GOOD top.

Unfortunately, it’s also the main reason cited when I ask why people don’t want to play with me again. Said people then go off to Creepy McWifebeater because he “doesn’t play with limits” and “provides the TRUE submissive experience”.

Ffffff… I don’t want to become a Nice Guy, but it’s equal parts frustrating and infuriating to see people my age care so little about their safety. I really worry about how “the community” seems to focus on going harder, deeper, longer than everyone else. It’s one-upmanship that’s not healthy, and I especially hate how I’m judged to be a “bad partner” for actually treating my submissive like a human being.

/sighs I get if you want that, but could you at least wait until the scene begins?

Maybe I’m not grokking the flagrant disregard for health and personal safety because I’m not very submissive (that I know of), but I can state as someone who’s beginning to explore BDSM as a bottom, you’re describing pretty much what I’m looking for in a top. I hope for my sake that you are not the minority.

Maybe– and this is just an idea– these people should try submitting to common sense, and see how that works out.

(Oh, and I should also note that I don’t personally know a great many people who identify as submissive at this point, but I can’t see the ones I do know pulling this rubbish. Yeesh.)

i’m bisexual. i’ve only dated guys so far and i’m currently engaged to the love of my life….who is also a guy. he’s monogamous, i have polyamorous tendencies but am content in monogamous relationships. i’m struggling a little in this one though, because, we are SO compatible and i truly believe we have the potential to be together forever – BUT HE’S A DUDE. i get so much shit for being bisexual when i haven’t so much as kissed a woman. i know i am – but what if i never get a chance to truly explore that side of myself? :(

I didn’t start exploring with women until I was in an open relationship, so I don’t have much in the way of advice for a bisexual in a monogamous relationship with someone of only one gender. Because you seem to really want to explore your attraction to women, part of me is sort of hoping that your fiance comes around to the idea of opening up things a little. But I don’t know if that’s fair. Sometimes people in open relationships are too quick to act like that’s the answer for everyone.

At very least, you need to get a female stripper for your bachelorette party.

My first lesbian experience involved a sexy, funny friend who was so stunningly hot that I still often imagine her pink nipples and orgasmic shudder when I masturbate.

My husband finds her just as attractive, maybe more, and several times per month we both arrive at screaming release while telling each other dirty stories about threesomes with this woman.

We both really want a threesomes with her.

The problem…neither of us are really into her boyfriend, and we don’t want to make things awkward in that way.

If you as a couple invite someone to a threesome and they bring their significant other, it is a sure sign that you’re dealing with someone who can’t count for shit.

I mean, you know she’s into at least one of you, so I think maybe I’d risk it and ask her what she thought about a threesome, provided she watched a respectable amount of Sesame Street as a kid.

You know your sluthood has jumped the shark when you’re making out with a guy on the floor, he’s groping your ass, and your roommates’ reaction is to continue discussing whether invisibility or flight is a cooler superpower.

That is just a waste. Flight is obviously cooler, and your roommates should all know that. Show me a person who would rather be invisible and I will show you one sneaky motherfucker.

Not that I have a problem with sneaky motherfuckers. They tend to have excellent confessions.

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I feel guilty about calling myself a bisexual because I prefer one gender over the other; sex with either is great, but kissing, and cuddling? Ah, they are only fun with one of them.

Sexual orientation can be pretty complicated, and what you describe sounds like a perfectly valid permutation of bisexual to me.

We want to have sex with the people we want to have sex with. We want to make out with the people we want to make out with. We want to have relationships with the people we want to have relationships with. Sometimes these groups overlap, sometimes not. If we’re lucky, we can find words to describe it, roughly.

At the cabin by the lake, we used the hose to rinse off the lake water from a swim in the lake. With a steel partition to block the view of prying eyes, we just doffed our clothes and washed off in the open sun. It was great being naked with the sun on us, and as I roughly scrubbed her body with my hands, I got an uncharacteristically huge erection, and pushed it against her belly as I kissed her mouth. I reached down and pressed my finger into her pussy, and found it getting wetter. ”Someone might see,” she protested, but she didn’t push away. She didn’t say know. She began to suck my cock.

Why did I think of a friend, at that moment? Why did I think of this other woman, not my wife, deep-throating my cock? I turned her around, and bent her over, and pushed into her from the rear, while I thought of our friend’s ass, wet from the hose water, which I pulled into me as I came, hard.

She hadn’t finished.

”You can owe me one,” she smiled.

That night, as she got ready for bed, I asked if I could give her oral pleasure. She said we could fuck instead, but I was adamant– I wanted to be there for her only. I put my all into it. I drew that clit out and sucked it while tonguing it, while finger-fucking her until the G-spot grew a hard knot, and her bishop was standing well outside of the pulpit. I pulled on the lips and ran my teeth along the precipuce, and used every oral trick that years of marriage to her has taught me to use. I know what her body wants. I drew it out, milking her almost to climax and then intentionally stopping short, and repeating this until she was begging me to put my cock into her, and I refused. This was soley for her.

When she came, it was loud. I felt her pussy rhythmically pulse at that amazing 0.8 second rate, forever. Seriously, it didn’t stop for a solid minute, while I left two fingers in her vagina, and slowly kissed the lips, mons, and clit (not too much!). She moaned that it was the best orgasm that she had had in about two years.

I was so glad. I felt like I owed her that, and more, having been thinking of our friend before. While giving her oral, I was thinking of no one but my wife. I do love her so.

You get a signature QP internet high five (I do a little flourish thing– totally trademarky) for confessing about great sex with a mega honesty bonus!

Despite several (ok, two and a half) drunken encounters, I’ve never made a guy come. Even through sex. I want to blame it on the booze, and say that they were just too drunk to come, but there’s still a part of me saying that it’s entirely because I’m just that ugly and inadequate. Especially since I’ve never once had someone express interest in me while either of us were sober.

They were too drunk to come. I’m about as positive as I can be without actually being all of those guys.

And please consider the possibility that you’re more approachable and flirty when you’ve had a few drinks. That is a lot more likely than the possibility that you are only attractive to drunk people, which is just… no. That is frat bro logic fucking with you.

Last night I had steamy hot car sex with my crush. I was staying at a friend’s place, but he had too many beers and passed out. My crush came over and we made out on the couch for a while. I didn’t want to get caught, so we went out to his truck and drove around the neighbourhood until we found an unlit street. We climbed in the back seat and got naked. The best part was when he had me bent over the back seat, was pulling my hair, spanking my ass, and riding me hard. We had to let the fans run for nearly 5 minutes afterwards to clear the windows enough to see to drive back. I don’t quite know how it happened, but I have a seatbelt shaped bruise on my thigh today :)

I just love car sex. I love car making out. I want a seatbelt bruise. I think I have confession envy.

I have a high sex drive…I mean, at least it seems higher than most people’s. Also, I just moved in with my boyfriend who is more ”normal.” We haven’t had sex much since moving in together, which is fine because everything has been so busy (living in a new city, he commutes an hour to work, I just started grad school). But lately, when I go to kiss him, he says he doesn’t feel like it. I think it’s because he thinks it will lead to sex, which he doesn’t want to have. But all I want to do is kiss. I miss feeling close to someone.

Now, I lay no claim to being nicknamed The Great Communicator any time soon, but you report that you think he thinks kissing will lead to sex. So you don’t know. So either you haven’t asked him or he is not answering. If you haven’t asked him, try to do so (preferably not right after you’ve just been rejected and emotions are high). If your partnership started out with physical contact, you have a right to know why it has come off the table just like he has a right not to want sex and kissing right now.

And good luck. This can be a very heartbreaking situation, and I hope you guys can work it out so both of you are happy.

Confess, my cronies!

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Dear God I hope so. Let the cycle begin!

I was goofing off with my boyfriend and generally having a tickle fight, when I somehow convinced him to let me stick a vibrator in his belly button (his prime tickle spot).

I highly recommend doing this. You (probably) won’t get off, but it is hilarious nonetheless.

File this under ”Weird-Assed Things to Do With Sex Toys”. =P

It’s Monday night as I compile this ConTuesday, and I just had a huge dinner of homemade beef shawarma and hummus.  So I guess what I’m saying is that there is no way in hell I’m sticking a vibrator in my belly button right now. But I will have to remember to try this because now I’m curious and it sounds hilarious.

If anyone else wants to send suggestions for weird-assed things to do with sex toys, maybe I will try them when my stomach doesn’t hurt! Maybe.

When I was a wee lass of 18, I had my artist younger brother/bff draw me something pretty so I could get a tattoo. It was a flower, and after careful consideration of where I was and was not likely to gain/lose a lot of weight, I chose to have it done on the small of my back. Several years later this turned into a trend and became known as the tramp stamp. At first I thought ”fuck you guys, I love being a tramp and this is a very reasonable place for a lady to get tattooed.” But, over time, the idea of the tramp stamp has worn on me, to the point where I now feel ashamed to have this thing that I once thought of as a beautiful expression of affection for my brother. On top of that, I feel ashamed for feeling ashamed because I know it’s a sexist and ridiculous way of characterizing a piece of body art. Nonetheless, it makes me feel anxious about revealing my body to new sex partners. Ugh.

I bet it’s beautiful.

My boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me and it makes me so sad.

In other words, I have the most stereotypical girly-girl problem ever. If he found out how much it means to me he’d feel bad but he’ll never change his mind, so what good’s telling him? I don’t have anyone I can confide in. Which of my badass feminist friends, some of whom can’t even legally marry their partners, am I supposed to bitch to about this one?

Straight people and gay people and even badass feminist people are allowed to want to get married to the people they love. It might never happen with your current partner if he really isn’t interested in marriage, and that will either have to be okay or a deal-breaker eventually, but your desire is valid and there is nothing wrong with it. Also, I think good friends have the ability to care about your problems in the context of your life, without needing to necessarily compare situations. They want you to be happy, right? And this is making you sad, so I suspect they’d be there for you on this one.

A while ago I had a crush on this guy who was really into X-men. Wolverine was his favorite. It never went anywhere, but I did have this reoccurring fantasy about blowing him while he was watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine (the movie made to make Hugh Jackman take his shirt off) since that was the closest I would I ever be able to get to a threesome with him and Wolverine. Sadly, I don’t think he would have appreciated my line of reasoning.

I bet a lot of guys would secretly appreciate your line of reasoning. If you want Wolverine in addition to someone rather than instead of them, doesn’t that mean they can, in one sense at least, hold their own against Wolverine? And isn’t that pretty boss? Or is that just my twisted nerdy sex logic?

Tell the world something about your sex life. Who knows what (or who) will come of it?

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The tablet upon which it was carved so long ago is kept in a secret underground vault at the base of a wheelchair accessible ramp, and is guarded by vicious Gila panthers. I’ve seen all this with my own eyes. Once.

Of course, I didn’t memorize it. Even if I did I couldn’t share it on the internet, not verbatim, on pain of Hitachi Magic Wand torture. But trust me, the rhymes are ingenious coming from people who couldn’t have possibly known the English language would even be a thing.

I can tell you the gist of the prophecy, though, and it’s this: Someday thou, Quizzical Pussy, shalt stoppeth being so damn insecure. Verily.

It’s actually a little surprising that this ancient, precious prophecy ended up being about me, when I stop and think about it. Was that nice of those Sumerians or what? Anyway, knowing the future like that is a great comfort to me in times like this.

Because really, I am ridiculous.

I told Laramy a few days ago that I’m kind of waiting for him to get sick of me and leave². Which, as it turns out, is not a charming thing to say to one’s sweetheart. In retrospect, it was hurtful. It brushes up against ignoring what we have together, telling him I don’t really think he loves me even though I absolutely know he does. The problem is really that I don’t understand why, so I keep waiting to fuck it up by accident.

This is all mostly-to-entirely because I’m insecure. This is the same reason I lose touch with friends while I’m trying not to bother them. This is the same reason I feel like a creepasaurus creep whenever I try to flirt. It’s even why I’m afraid to say no to people I don’t want to have sex with. Insecurity has gotten me into so much more trouble than cockiness that I wonder why I’m still careful not to brag or build myself up. It should really be the other way around by now. But! Here we are.

Laramy never seems insecure about our relationship. We have a good thing going, and it doesn’t seem like I want to end it, so he doesn’t worry about it. This is pretty much just sense, but it feels like alien logic. I can’t imagine feeling that way. I’m glad he does, but it’s so counter-intuitive to me that part of me insists he’s not worried about losing me because it really wouldn’t matter much. But that isn’t fair. He’s probably just doing what emotionally healthy people do.

Why should anyone assume they’re on borrowed time in their relationship? What good does it do? And it’s not even that being single scares me as a general rule; I just specifically don’t like the idea of not being with him. We really do have a good thing going. And I think my insecurities have the potential ruin it more thoroughly and efficiently than anything else.

Does anyone ever really know why they’re loved, anyway? Is it necessary? Is it possible?

1. Did you not realize we have a sacred fraternal order? Cause we do.
2. This is not because of something he’s done or anything in particular about us. I’ve tended to feel this way even while in shitty, ill-advised relationships.

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But then there are the times when I’ll read one and think “Anonymity is indeed a beautiful thing.” To wit, “Here we have a secret that’s a secret for a damn good reason.” Not that I’m judging, mind. I obviously have secrets myself; I’m not an anonymous blogger just because I’m afraid of getting too much fan mail. For all you know, one of the following confessions is mine…

I have a very, very small crush on my brother in law, but ever since I watched a thing of polyandry in Tibet, I’m kind of obsessed with the idea of being in a relationship with my husband and his brother both. I’ve been fantasising about it all day, like who snuggles with who when someone gets up first in the morning, and how absolutely freaking awesome it would be to fuck them at the same time.

This one hits fairly close to home for me. My sisters and I fall into the same general physical type, except they’re all much prettier than I am. I’m not being modest by saying this; it is very simply true. Since before anyone even thought about wanting to date me I have lived in terror of learning that a partner wants to fuck my sisters in addition to/instead of me. I can’t even say exactly why, and I will not even pretend it’s rational.  Coming up short in comparisons over the years has made me a little too neurotic, I guess.

I doubt I’m alone on this one. This is why fantasies about siblings, though probably incredibly common, usually belong firmly in the “Excellent anonymous confession, potentially devastating personal admission” category.

Of course, I’m sure there are also people that would love to share a partner with their sibling. Some people didn’t grow up indulging the petty jealousies that I did.

When my ex and I broke up a year and a half ago, he had gotten another girl pregnant in a weird poly experiment gone wrong (where they did not have my consent to be fucking without birth control), he immediately moved in with her, and she had the baby. Then I ended up becoming friends with her, and we would hang out and talk all the time. He and I would secretly dirty txt each other, and he begged me to fuck him again many times, but I always resisted, because I felt I owed it to her to refrain due to our friendship. Then about a month ago, she found a dirty video I sent him and got very upset, and we decided not to be friends anymore. It only took a couple of weeks for me to cave to his pleas, and yesterday we finally got together. He beat the crap out of me with a belt (consensually), and we spent the afternoon fucking. It was awesome. What pushed me over the edge was him telling me about his secret girlfriend that his baby momma doesn’t know about and me getting competitive with her. The bad thing is that I really don’t feel guilty at all. The other bad thing is that I realized that I am still in love with him. To top things off, he wants me to have a threesome with him and his secret GF, and I probably will. What a mess!

The more complicated a sexual situation is, the fewer people you can tell about it without compounding the drama. I just now decided to call this The Circus Tent Rule, because once you invite an audience inside the big top, every act suddenly gets more dangerous: animals are less predictable, nets and safety mechanics that were used in practice may be removed, and jangling nerves come into play. As long as you keep your mess a secret you’re still in dress rehearsal mode, and that can save lives.

Not that helping someone cheat on their partner is okay, but does talking about it ever suddenly make it more okay? One (unsolicited) suggestion, though: When you’re a party to cheating, being extra-vigilant about getting tested for STIs and practicing safer sex is really the least you can do.

It’s probably a bad idea to choose people to stay with while couchsurfing based on how much I want to fuck them…right?

I’m going to be conservative here and guess that 15% of people do exactly that. It’s probably a bad idea to tell people you’re choosing to stay with them while couchsurfing because you want to fuck them, and it’s definitely a bad idea to expect to fuck them. But I don’t think people necessarily do much damage just by wanting to fuck someone. Unless, naturally, that someone is my sister. In which case HOW DARE YOU?

Sadly, my much younger lover has left town and (maybe happily?) my husband has returned. I’m scared to death to have sex with my husband because I want him to do all the things my much younger lover did that turned me on so much but I don’t want him to wonder why I want those things suddenly. QP, do you have any advice on how to ask for new things without arousing suspicion?

Oh, so totally blame the internet. That’s what we’re here for. “I’ve been reading about this and can’t stop thinking about it. Can we try it?”

Do you, my lusty readers, have anything you yearn to tell but need kept secret? There’s a very simple solution!

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The other key, of course, is Pong.

If someone with a not too terribly impressive amount of judgment were to come to me and ask, face so straight and tone so earnest: “Quizzical Pussy, what’s the key to a good relationship?” my first priority would be to not snort while I was doing all the laughing. Really, the “I Make Wonderful Romantic Decisions, And In Case You Were Wondering, Yes, That’s Sarcasm” sash I was awarded in 2004 didn’t win itself.

And then I’d be tempted to say “blind luck” because that’s certainly how I’ve landed in the one I’m in. But then I’d give my real answer.

Inside jokes.

Yes, love and trust and patience. Absolutely. And fabulous sex usually doesn’t hurt either. But it’s harder to quantify those first three things, and sometimes even tricky to detect when they’re fading away. And the sex? It’s possible to have fabulous sex with someone you actively dislike.

But if you’re always laughing together at things that would elicit shrugs and eyebrow twitches from all the rest of humanity, you have this secret language. You’re each choosing to be in closed, joyous company, which in my experience is the last thing you want when you’re fundamentally unhappy with each other. In essence, inside jokes are an old magic that transports you to the island nation of Us, a place of moderate climate and ruthless border control. You are never dragged to Us, although you can often convince the other person you’re already there just by smiling and nodding politely. But there will still be an ocean between you.

And this isn’t just romantic relationships. Not at all. I never feel like I’m fully friends with someone until we have at least one inside joke together. We’re just on the shore, friendly together but sharing no homeland.

Maybe this is just me. I could be biased by the amazing sex Laramy and I had yesterday between spates of laughing at things that are sheer nonsense to everyone else. I could be placing too much value on laughter for this to apply to anyone but me. But that would be my answer anyway.

(image source)

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These ConTuesday confessions are pretty much all less frivolous than that.

9 months after the break up of our short romance, I still sometimes have dreams that he takes me back and everything is right with the world again.

But then you wake up and realize your life is awesome and you’re awesome and anyone willing to let you go is someone you’re better without? I’m hoping.

I think there is something seriously wrong with me!!!! I have only orgasimed with a man once. I can masterbate and hit it on the spot just like that, but you let a man come into the picture and it ain’t happening. Oh sure the sex is great but no orgasim. I have changed positions, added toys, and even told the guys how to do it. I don’t know what else to do, so I enjoy the sex, I come home, masturbate, and have the most intense orgasims. What is wrong with me???

Nothing is wrong with you. This is a very common situation, as I understand it. Maybe it’s the mental distraction of having someone else there. Perhaps the pressure of feeling like you need to have an orgasm to satisfy your partner’s expectations is bogging you down. Perchance it’s the fact that even if you tell someone just what to do with a toy, their technique won’t be exactly the same as yours. Have you tried just masturbating in front of a partner? If you haven’t, that might be a good start. If you’ve tried that and it hasn’t worked out the way you want, maychance try masturbating while having phone sex with your partner as an introduction to sharing your orgasms with him.

Keep in mind that you’re capable of giving yourself orgasms, so that’s great in and of itself, seeing as you’re a person interested in having them.

I want a hysterectomy more than anything. There is no medical reason to get one. I hate my uterus though – it is an organ with entirely oppositional goals to mine, and I do not identify as female and having it makes me feel alienated from my body. But I am terrified of losing my uterine orgasms – this must the joke of the cruelest gods, to make one organ both responsible for my greatest joy and greatest fear.

You didn’t ask for advice, and I am in no way qualified to give you any, but I want to say I cannot imagine how difficult this dilemma must be, and I’m sorry you’re facing it.

I want my lover to be poly-compatible more than I want just about anything else. I love her deeply and she’s practically perfect, but so matter how happy we are together, no, she’s NOT enough. It isn’t that anything is wrong with her, it’s the fact that she’s just one person. I can never make her understand that if she can’t understand open relationships. It’s hopeless. I can either lose the love of my life or stay with her unfulfilled. How does one choose?

Monogamy vs. polyamory is a relationship/sexual orientation (and yes, there are people who swing both ways as well). More and more I’m convinced that it has more to do with how one is wired than what one is able to understand, or how evolved one is, or how badly one wants to be the other orientation. If your orientation is definitely poly and hers is definitely mono (and demanding of monogamy, because some people stay monogamous and very happily let their partners practice polyamory, and that’s one solution), it seems to me that neither of you has a great deal of choice in the matter.

That being said, maybe buying her a book wouldn’t hurt. No pressure, mind, just a free book and the polite request that she do you a favor by reading it and discussing it with you.

Good luck!

Want to confess something? Preferably something related to sex, relationships, or how you have a giant crush on me? Please go here and spill it!

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To all the New Yorkers who’ve been waiting too long for this, I wish you all possible joy! To everyone still denied the right to marry their sweethearts, we’ll get there. I really do believe it. Eventually, we’ll even get Utah.

In the meantime, last night was a good night.

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“That’s good,” said another coworker. “That’s the way it should be.” General concurrence.

“Really?” I asked her in my quizzical way, not just because this woman lived with her boyfriend for a year before he recently became her husband.

“I think it’s the ideal. I mean, I admire people who can do that.”

“It’s great if they want to wait. But I don’t think there’s any one right way. I just think people should do whatever works best for them,” I shrugged.

“Well, yeah. I do too. I just think it’s really classy when people wait to live together,” she asserted. Another shrug from me. “It’s just classier,” she tasted the word again.

As I went back to my work, I wondered what’s “classy” about abstaining from sex before marriage. Indeed, what’s classy about not even abstaining from sex, but maintaining plausible deniability that you’re having it with the person you love. It just doesn’t compute for me.

Let me take a moment to tell you that I’m actually pro-marriage. I’ve had several conversations recently leading me to suspect that a lot of people get the opposite impression from me. People who read my blog might think this because I’ve written that marriage isn’t something I consider important to the continued stability of society. Or possibly because I also stated that a free stand mixer was a perfectly valid reason to enter the sacred institution of matrimony. Or maybe just because I’m so obviously cynical.

But honestly? I’m thrilled when people get engaged. I will squee right along with the best of them when two people I love want to exchange vows. In this society just the word “wife” or “husband” has more heft, more meat to it than “girlfriend” or “boyfriend”, and this is fact. I’m not immune to it, whether I can intellectually justify it or not.

But also, there’s this innate power in having said “You and me, okay? For as long as we keep breathing. This is the goal.” You can make that commitment without being officially married, of course, and I respect that choice as well, but when you’re married you’re more or less asking people to automatically assume it. And that’s powerful too. However it might seem when I’m snarking, I’m pro-optimism and pro-love and pro-commitment. So Yay Marriage! Yay Marriage between any two or more people who want to make that promise to one another.

Is it for me personally? I don’t know. To me, marriage is largely just like any relationship, but with a stated goal (which may or may not work out) and all those little perks like possible tax breaks, legal status, and the ability to easily share insurance benefits. In and of itself, it is neither scary nor numinous. In my able-bodied early twenties I guess I used to think it would be really great to have that kind of bond and goal with someone. Like, hypothetically. But since becoming chronically ill, it feels uncomfortable to even think about asking for that degree of commitment from anyone. I’m aware that I’m not the best long-term investment*. So I don’t know. Probably not.

But I am pro-marriage for you, if you’re into it. I promise.

However, I have to say it once again: I don’t think being married makes anyone better than non-married people. I don’t believe it sanctifies sexual union. I don’t think that living together and sharing a life before you’re (or instead of being) married is tacky or sinful or intrinsically sub-ideal or anything of the sort. I think it’s just what works best for some people and their relationships, which really aren’t my business anyway. Just another choice in a world full of possibilities.

You want to protect marriage? Don’t play nuptial keep away with the homosexuals. Don’t freak out because a woman wants two husbands. Don’t judge couples for having pre- or lieu-of-marital sex. Cluck not about unwed mothers. In observing these prohibitions, perhaps you’ll find that every time people get married, it gets to be beautiful and meaningful to them. Never perfunctory. Never to appease public opinion. Stop making it about you and your expectations. It may surprise you that your marriage can still be what you and your partner/s and your God and your culture want marriage to be. You’re just finally giving the same courtesy to the rest of us.

Because if you, the judgment mongers of the world, keep picking at marriage, trying to reduce it to your own definitions and rules, it really is going to unravel. And all that’s left will be people trying to love each other and be happy. And I have this strange foreboding that in the end, that will be perfectly fine with everyone but you.

(image source)

*These statements do not in any way apply to all or indeed any other disabled or chronically ill people. Just to be clear, I am talking about myself only.

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