quizzical pussy

It seems to me that virginity is one of those things that you pretty much get to define for yourself, like cheating or happiness. Other people, institutions, even laws may have their opinions, but when you break it down enough any definition of virginity seems arbitrary at best. Virginity is so confusing that some people don’t seem to know whether they’re talking about it or not.

I’m about to don my pedantry hat for a minute. Also my seldom seen, but very jaunty, theology hat. You’ve been warned. Immaculate Conception doesn’t mean what most people think it means. In common use, it’s become confused with virgin birth and used synonymously, but it’s never meant “conceiving a child while one is a virgin”. Immaculate Conception is an explanation by the Catholic Church going back to the year Way Long Ago A.D. as to why Mary (the mother of Jesus Christ) was good enough to carry and bear God’s son¹. They decided that Mary, unlike regular non-god-bearing people, had been conceived without original sin (a legacy from Adam and Eve) and was thus pure, immaculate. Later Mary conceived a baby while she was a virgin² and gave birth, but her Immaculate Conception was only a distant prelude to that virgin birth, and has very little to do with virginity whatsoever.

My personal theory is that people use the wrong term because it sounds fancier. People are suckers for fancy. Hold on for a second. Removing hats.

There. That’s better. Where was I? Oh, virginity. I don’t know what the fuck a virgin is. I don’t really know when I was one. My hymen broke twice, but neither of those were the first time I had an orgasm from someone penetrating me. And then it was still two years before I had a dick inside me. Except my mouth. Are we counting my mouth? Suffice to say I lost my virginity, if it was even a thing, but at this point I don’t really know or care when.

But when Laramy commented the other day that he’s never fucked a virgin, I’m almost positive he meant someone who’s never had penis-in-vagina intercourse. That seems to be the most common definition, although I can only imagine how gold star lesbians feel about that. Anyway, he’s mentioned it before.

“Is that one of your goals?” I asked him, curious, but smelling trouble from where I sat. Now, at our age virgins are getting a bit thin on the ground, so it wouldn’t be terribly easy to find one without actively hunting. And a casual, drama-free deflowering with one older, experienced partner who already has a girlfriend and one partner who doesn’t remember that pogs were once a thing can happen, of course. But it feels like it would be asking a lot of the universe.

“It’s not something I’m actively looking for, but it might be interesting.” One interesting thing about Laramy is that he says this about virtually all forms of heterosexual sex he’s not having at that precise moment.

“If you’re that interested, I’ll just get one of those fake hymens³,” I shrugged.

“That’s a thing!?”

Of course it’s a thing! Because sadly, some people still buy into one of the weirdest definitions of virginity: the intact hymen. And there are still places in the world where a woman’s future might depend on her ability to fake that, whether she’s a virgin by any other definition or not.

But I guess it could be a sex toy too. If you’re not too cautious with your mucous membranes.

(image source)

1. The later Protestant explanation is that she quite simply wasn’t, just like no one on Earth was good enough for a god to die for. This is probably why it took a Protestant to write “Amazing Grace”. [↩]
2. Or as a young, unmarried woman, depending on how you like to translate ancient texts. [↩]
3. Just for the record, I was in no way serious. I have no idea what’s in those things, but I can guess it’s not all medical grade silicone and hypoallergenic red lube. [↩]

Gay marriage is now recognized in six states (and Washington D.C.). Right now I feel like my country is 2% more reasonable than it was this time yesterday. And that ain’t nothing.

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.

One of my coworkers was recently telling us about her son’s impending engagement to his longtime sweetheart. It’s going to happen any day now. Her eyebrow turned a confidential arch as she detailed his plans for the proposal, and the engagement gift she wants to get them. She worried they’re too young, having just finished college, with years of grad school ahead of them. She sighed. She beamed. “They’re not shacking up, though,” she added. “They’re going to move in together after the wedding.”

“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.

My new strategy for dealing with all types of intolerance, bigotry, and prejudice:

“Aw, honey, you’re just going through a phase. You’ll grow out of that.”

Foaming at the mouth because a mom’s putting pink (pink!) nail polish on her son? Because that somehow tells him it’s okay to be gay or transgender or something, and that’s somehow bad? Happens to lots of people your age. You’ll settle down once you mature a little.

Think you get to hold personal court over every woman who says she was sexually assaulted to decide whether she’s right about that or not? My cousin Denny went through the same thing (Denny’s always been a little off, truth be told), but he got over it and you can too. Not to worry.

Think you’re better than one fucking person on this planet? Feel innately more correct, important, or that you occupy a moral high ground over any one group of people based on sex, age, weight, race, religion or lack thereof, sexual identity, orientation, or, hell, political affiliation? Bless your heart, all toddlers think they’re the center of the universe! You’re just a tiny bit behind, darling. Once you grow up a little you’ll let go of that and be a normal, healthy person.

It’s not being condescending. It’s being optimistic.

Things people seem to like to compare same-sex marriage to:

• Pedophilia
• Zoophilia
• A Slippery Slope
• Counterfeit Money
• Incest
• Drug Abuse
• Polygamy
• Forbidden Clock Love
• Slavery
• Nazi. Fucking. Germany

With a couple exceptions (because I will never tire of Forbidden Clock Love), I think these chestnuts are getting a bit old. Yeah, yeah, marrying a consenting adult of the same sex is exactly like marrying a horse, sure*. But where’s the impact? And frankly, when we’re comparing it to polygamy, which even has a strong Biblical basis for the Christians to enjoy, not to mention a robust history of past acceptance, the argument conspicuously lacks teeth.

So I, being a humanitarian at my core, decided to come up with some exciting new suggestions for gay marriage comparisons.

If I don’t see these proliferate throughout the news media soon, I’ll be disappointed. Try to forge new territory, people. Being cutting-edge gets hard when your belief system is older than your numeral system, I know. But that’s why you have to pay attention to the little things.

Now, I honestly don’t know why any of the following suggestions are like same-sex marriage, but I don’t really know why the old, cliched ones are either. I trust the pundits to figure out tenuous-but-alarming links for me. That’s pretty much their job anyway, right? So, without further ado…

Gay marriage is really like:

• Wearing sunglasses indoors.
• Letting Michael Bay marry explosions!
• The part in The Labyrinth when David Bowie turns into an owl.
• Impaling babies on narwhal tusks.
• Kicking the tires of a new car just because you’ve seen other people do it, but not really knowing what anyone gets out of it.
• Marrying cancer.
• Buzkashi, the cut-throat game of goat dragging.
• Riding a fixed-gear bicycle.
• Destroying all the cookies in the world.
• Licking doorknobs when you’ve got a cold and you know you’re still contagious.
• Throwing monkeys into turbine jet engines.
• Being in love with just, you know, being in love, man.
• Giving America AIDS.

I hope this gives the anti-gay marriage activists some new material to work with. You really need to flood the airwaves with as many of these comparisons as possible or people will start conflating gay marriage with marriage marriage, possibly at some point dropping the “gay” qualifier. That would obviously be disastrous to someone. I’m just not positive whom.

But I don’t want to see that tired bestiality thing trotted out yet again, okay guys? You’re better than that.

(image source)

* No.

Once in a great while I get anonymous confessions that aren’t strictly about sex. And hey, secrets is secrets. I’m into it. But sometimes, I get anonymous confessions about a human mechanical bull. I thought I’d put them in ascending order of lasciviousness today.

I have something growing on my asshole. I think it’s a hemorrhoid, but I’m not sure. WTF. I don’t want to go to the doctor, because every time I go he berates me for being fat.

You seriously need a new doctor. Whether a patient might be healthier at a lower weight or not, a doctor has no right to be abusive about it, especially to the exclusion of giving actual medical care. I wonder if this link would be of interest. I had a hunch there might be a site out there that lists doctors who behave respectfully to people with “overweight” and above B.M.I.s, and there is! Please understand that by posting this link I’m not trying to call you fat, despite the list’s name. I hope, of course, that this clears up on its own, but having a doctor who doesn’t berate you every time you seek medical treatment seems like something worth finding.

For, sheesh, probably five years now, I’ve used RSS feeds to keep up on smutty thises and thats, the convenience of which only increased my readership. The beauty of bloglines.com is that it’s a perfectly worksafe URL, so if I needed a little (or medium, or large) spike during bank hours, it was there to unassumingly reroute hotness my way. But now Bloglines is closing, and the announcement coincides with nearly a month of me ignoring all my RSS smut. I’ve got to decide if I’m going to transfer all these subscriptions or not … and I’m surprising myself by kind of thinking “not.” A lot of sex blogs burn out, and perhaps this sex blog reader has burned out as well.

Oh God, it’s me. I’ve turned you off, haven’t I? My blog’s repulsive! I’M DISGUSTING. DON’T LOOK AT ME!

Oh well. My mom thinks I’m pretty.

Anyway, don’t you just hate it when you find out about a useful or cool thing just as it’s precisely at the precipice of not existing? That’s how I feel about this whole bloglines thing. Great idea. Perhaps too good for this world…

When my wife and I started dating, I had very little sexual experience to say the least. I usually prefer to not think about her prior experience – it makes me feel horribly left out. With rare exception for over a decade, we’ve mostly been a two-person hot pot of sexual energy together. The rare exception being some isolated hormonal problems associated with different types of birth control, but that’s a tangent for another confession. I thought that we were a pretty typical, healthy, young, married couple in our sexual activities. But, we found ourselves in a very forward bible study group associated with the church we were attending. This was an eye-opening experience. When the conversation came to frequency of intimacy, other couples confessed that they only ‘had it’ once or twice, if even that often. I nodded knowingly, thinking about the stresses of schedule and how it can be difficult to get it on more than that many times a day. Then through conversation, I discovered that they were talking about a weekly or monthly schedule! We only have one child, but most of the other couples had multiple children. I assumed that this indicated their levels of frequency – which it might. They may have simply not used birth control. At any rate, the men seemed to think that it wasn’t happening quite enough and the women didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves when it was going on. This brought up questions: 1 – What in the world were they doing wrong that they weren’t enjoying themselves more? 2 – Are my wife and I absolute sexual freaks? and/or 3 – was the church group an unprecedented collection of sexual losers? One girl in the group voiced her intention to have sex with her husband every day for a week and got hoots and hollers from the rest of the group. My wife and I gave each other THE GLANCE. It was the “Oh, WTF” glance. We don’t go to that church anymore, and we don’t really associate with anyone that we knew from there. It’s been years, actually. Since then, I think that I’ve figured out some of the answers to my old questions. 1 – I don’t think that they were actually focused on satisfying their partners in any form, physical or otherwise, and that grossly affected things in the bedroom. 2 – I am indeed a serious sexual deviant. My wife keeps up with me most of the time, but I’m a little more adventurous than she is. We still have a lot of fun together. 3 – I do think that we had found a weird group that unanimously leaned unusually far into the opposite direction of our proclivities across the bell curve. All too often, it’s easy to focus on the negative. Focusing on the positive makes me horny.

I haven’t gone to church regularly since I was 18 (it was sort of a household requirement). Maybe that’s why I don’t remember all the sex talk. Of course, not being married I probably still wouldn’t be invited to be appalled by the sad, depressing sex lives of my fellow parishioners. They also probably wouldn’t like my girl-fucking. I’m so oppressed.

I saw a documentary once where pre-scandal Ted Haggard claimed that Evangelical Christians have the most, best sex of anyone in the world, and then he went around polling a few of his male congregants to ask them how often their wives came. Every time, apparently.

I’ve recently come to the realization that just about every time I have sex with someone, besides my husband, it’s like a rodeo. I’ve found very few partners that can make it the full 8 seconds. In one respect it’s quite flattering. I’ve been told I’m quite good and that my girly parts are remarkably taut, yet pleasingly squishy. But, at the same time, come on now. Just when it starts to feel good and I get into it I start hearing that familiar shortened breathing and grunting and think “really? already?”. It may be flattering the first few times but it gets frustrating real quick.

You got, like, the worst super power ever, lady.

You, reader, will notice that I neglected to put a really, horribly scandalous confession at the end here. That’s because you’re supposed to send one in! I thought you knew already.

The Royal Kumari of Kathmandu always strikes me as a tragedy. Not a walking tragedy, mind, because of course she is not strictly allowed to walk.

The Royal Kumari is a little girl in Nepal who has passed a long list of physical, behavioral, and astrological criteria, and a series of complicated tests, to be declared the physical manifestation of the badass goddess Durga. She has among her attributes (according to Wikipedia):

• a neck like a conch shell
• a body like a banyan tree
• eyelashes like a cow
• thighs like a deer
• chest like a lion
• voice soft and clear as a duck’s

…whatever that means!

After she’s been selected, the Royal Kumari leaves her old life behind. She moves to a palace and becomes a living deity. Each movement and expression is analyzed; she’s treated with awe and deference; her feet can never touch the ground. She also wears a really complexion-killing amount of makeup on her forehead every day.

Then, one day she gets her first period, and it all stops. She’s no longer a goddess. She’s just some kid the goddess used to inhabit but doesn’t anymore and never will again. They start looking for a new, untainted Kumari immediately, and she’d better have a neck like a conch shell, dammit.

The scorned, newly adolescent, erstwhile Kumari will get a pension from the government for the rest of her life, probably move on, get married (despite a tradition that it’s unlucky to marry a former Kumari), do whatever it is you do with your life in Nepal. It’s not a bad gig, really.

But how jarring, how devastating is it to be a goddess one day and a mortal girl the next? How cast-off must she feel? How embarrassed and enraged that her body betrayed her by succumbing to menarche?

I wonder if it feels like the first time you realize someone is falling out of love with you, but in her case that someone is a deity, a religion, and an entire country.

(image source)

I was born in the United States, and that’s where I live. Today is Independence Day here. It commemorates not any victory or truce, but simply the intention to stop being a trodden-upon colony. This is kind of like celebrating your anniversary with a paramour on the day you first admitted you wanted to fuck each other rather than the day you actually did for the first time. Which is fine, really, just an interesting choice that becomes completely meaningless unless there’s some decisive follow-through. Which, in the case of the Declaration of Independence, there was. It was called the Revolutionary War.

I’m somewhat conflicted as a U.S. citizen. It always feels awkward that there’s not a proper word for us. “American” is desperately broad and kind of pushy, as if the manifest destiny myth gives us the right to claim ourselves the sole possessors of all flavors and varieties of Americas, some of which are entire continents. Sure, “America” in this case is just shorthand for “United States of America”, and no one else seems to need it as much as we do (try saying United Statesian. It just doesn’t work), but it bothers me anyway. Other things bother me more profoundly. Our country was never, even once, all integrity and liberty and pie. The United States government and its citizens systematically slaughtered and displaced the people of sovereign native nations to get us where we are today. They enslaved and exploited those people and so many others for generations. No ends justify those means.

I don’t believe our founding fathers were infallible or indefatigably noble. I don’t think that they necessarily planned for “all men are created equal” to mean seriously fucking everyone someday. They were, as we are, products of their era and culture, and that means they had some pretty shitty ideas about plenty of subjects. Instead of perfect intentions and godlike wisdom (or even the moral high ground), though, they gave us wonderful promises and forged them into law. That’s their beautiful legacy.

What I love about my home are the promises it was built on. Those flawed men gave us the framework to grow into an honest, fair, and free society, or as close as we’re likely to ever get. I intensely believe this, and it makes me grateful and yes, proud.

But just because those promises were made doesn’t mean they’re automatically kept. I don’t just think, I observe that we’re not as free as we think we are in this country. Votes become increasingly difficult to verify as paper ballots are phased out. Appointing corporate lobbyists to White House cabinet and advisory positions has become de rigueur. People are lining up to hand in their reproductive rights, relinquish free speech (funny how limiting someone else’s rights also compromises your own), and to thwart the one provision in the Constitution that seems designed to give us a fighting chance if everything goes irretrievably to hell. We’re losing cherished friends, family, and compatriots in two interminable wars that most of us don’t seem to believe in. Our president, who was stridently opposed to the Patriot Act while he was campaigning, recently extended it by a year, and was met with precious little outrage.

The government can do bad things. It will sometimes try to do them in secret. There are recorded, admitted instances where this has happened in the past. So I have to ask, has any government in history ever cleaned up its act and restored its integrity on its own, without a coup, a war, or at least the undeviating insistence of an incensed public? What makes us think a government that, for example, covertly performed mind-control experiments on many of its citizens without their informed consent mere decades ago can be trusted today?

And yet, apathy thrives. Helplessness encroaches.

I realize that everyone has a different vision of the ideal America (mine has a lot of naked frolicking). I don’t know the answers to everything, and I’m not pretending to. I just feel very strongly that no good can come from a nation’s citizens having fewer rights and sitting idly by while more important promises are broken. Even if you’re not using all your rights or you don’t particularly like some of them, aren’t they… I dunno… kind of nice to have? Just in case?

My fellow United Statesians, have a great Independence Day. See fireworks. Grill meat (or tofu, if you’re kinky like that) over fire. Celebrate your state’s relaxed sodomy laws. Do something outdoors. Our nation is beautiful and you have every right to love it. But today I feel bound to remind myself that freedom isn’t something you’re necessarily born with and get to keep. That’s the way it should be, in a perfect world, but in reality freedom can be taken away at any time. That’s when you have to decide whether or not you’re going to declare your intentions to fight for it. And then, fucking follow through.

This may be hard to believe, but I try not to be a jerk about other peoples’ religious beliefs, or their political beliefs, for that matter. Just because I disagree with someone doesn’t make her/him a moron, an idiot, or a worse or less valuable person. In fact, I seek to respect and learn from the opinions of others. I think that in general people want freedom, equality, safety, and to do the right thing to the best of their ability. Because there’s no easy answer to how to best accomplish these things, and because there are many ways to prioritize them, people may have different views, but very rarely do you find someone whose beliefs are malicious.

At least that’s what I want to think. But then people gotta piss me off, and my good intentions suddenly aren’t worth the internet real estate they’re rendered on.

It’s May, which apparently means that lots of weddings are starting to happen. I’m going to two in the next month, in fact. Can you smell the calla lilies, the poised shotguns, the feckless optimism, the… somethings blue? I knew you could.

Anyway, my little brother recently went to a good friend’s wedding and came back with an appalling report. No, the bridesmaids didn’t have (gasp!) butch haircuts. It was way worse than that. The wedding was apparently crazy sexist, so much so that my brother, who is not a feminist crusader in the least, noticed it and was profoundly disturbed.

I’m not talking about the general complaints you might hear about how marriage is an institution perpetrated by the patriarchy, or even how the act of a father “giving away” the bride in marriage is a call back to a business transaction where women were chattel and men held all the chips. What I’m talking about is something that I really didn’t realize existed in mainstream American culture anymore at all: the bride and groom agreed to entirely different things in their vows.

The main reading was the whole “Wives submit to your husbands” thing that I wish would just die already, (Can we just take Ephesians, or actually all the Paul of Tarsus stuff, out of the Bible? That’d be super.) I realize that it’s not my business to decide who gets to call the shots in someone else’s relationship, and that I should not take this personally. Maybe the bride explicitly wanted her vows to agree to being controlled. But the idealist in me finds it upsetting that two (presumably non-kinky) people would set the tone for their marriage with a religious reading about power dynamics. “Love is patient, love is kind” is hackneyed, yes, but at least it’s not appointing a mayor of the marriage right then and there. So maybe it only follows that the stated vows reflected that. I don’t know what they said verbatim, but according to what my brother told me it was probably something roughly like this:

Groom
I, _____, take you, ______, to be my wedded wife. With deepest joy I receive you into my life that together we may be one. As is Christ to His body, the church, so I will be to you a loving and faithful husband. Always will I perform my headship over you even as Christ does over me, knowing that His Lordship is one of the holiest desires for my life. I promise you my deepest love, my fullest devotion, my tenderest care. I promise I will live first unto God rather than others or even you. I promise that I will lead our lives into a life of faith and hope in Christ Jesus. Ever honoring God’s guidance by His spirit through the Word, And so throughout life, no matter what may lie ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as a loving and faithful husband.

Bride
I, _____, take you, ______, to be my wedded husband. With deepest joy I come into my new life with you. As you have pledged to me your life and love, so I too happily give you my life, and in confidence submit myself to your headship as to the Lord. As is the church in her relationship to Christ, so I will be to you. _____, I will live first unto our God and then unto you, loving you, obeying you, caring for you and ever seeking to please you. God has prepared me for you and so I will ever strengthen, help, comfort, and encourage you. Therefore, throughout life, no matter what may be ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as an obedient and faithful wife.

Notice how only one of them has to say “submit” and “obedient”? Also, “performing headship” over someone is not something I’d want to discuss in front of my parents and brand new in-laws and great aunties, if you know what I mean.

I’ve sat through many, many sermons in my life. Some of them opined that Harry Potter is a Satanic text, and some of them patiently explained that the idea of comparing a husband and his wife to Jesus and his church doesn’t explicitly state that one is better than the other, they’re just different, and hell, someone has to be in charge! But why does someone have to be in charge in a relationship? Is it because talking things over and coming to mutually agreeable conclusions wastes valuable time that could be spent praying? I mean, it’s fun to have someone in charge in bed, but I wouldn’t even agree to that permanently.

I suggest that it’s all bullshit; the Jesus/church comparison belies any claim of “separate but equal”. In the Christian faith I was raised in, Jesus is absolutely held up as superior to the church. He’s the paragon of life, for fuck’s sake, and the church is devoted to worshiping him. To say that this comparison doesn’t elevate the man over the woman in a relationship isn’t just wack, it’s wiggity wack. Ladies, if you’re going to give up that much power, at least have a safeword.

P.S. “I do” is not a safe word.

(image source)

Here’s the newest batch of crazy internet from your friendly internet strangers and possibly loved ones.

I don’t have a foot fetish, but whenever I scrub the soles of my feet in the shower my genitals tingle and I get crazy horny. Maybe I need to explore foot rubs. :)

I use my hot cousin’s pictures off Facebook to pretend to be a woman on dating sites so I can get off to guys lusting over me. I am a mostly-straight man.

When I was 14 my mom remarried and I got a stepsister. She was destined to be fattish when she got older, but when she was 16 her breasts were amazing. I would borrow her bras and panties and rubbed them all over my penis and balls and jerk off. I even stole one silky bra right before she went away to college so I could keep it up. I couldn’t look her in the face for years. Those were still some of the best orgasms of my life.

I have told every man I’ve ever been with that he was the best I ever had. It’s never been true. The best I ever had was my female camp counselor at Lutheran camp.

I’m ashamed of the person who writes this website who has a tag pie, claims to be a nerd, yet has no mention of PI day or clever pun on it.

Oh god, you’re so right. I’m cutting myself off from masturbating for 3.14 days as punishment. I also neglected to give my boyfriend steak and a blowjob on the day in question, which makes me a questionable nerd and a terrible person.

I’m falling in love with a stranger over the internet.

I’m 90% sure that the person who gave me syphilis still hasn’t been treated because he doesn’t know he has it, and it serves him bloody right.

P.S. Yes, I’m sure he’s the one who infected me and no, I’m never telling him.

Keep ConTuesdays alive by sharing your secrets! It’s fun, anonymous, and cathartic!