Consent has been in the press this week again, thanks to a couple of young men who were deeply personally insulted and affronted at the nerve, the sheer bloody gall, the CHEEK of their presumptious places of learning, to include them into an invite that went to all students to voluntary consent courses.
So someone sent me a link to this article, based on a book, about sex tips written for men by a gay woman. As much as I see that it’s well meant, and well intentioned, something about it really bugged me – and it’s similar to something I discussed a few weeks ago.
Women are not all the same.
Women are complex individuals, just like men are complex individuals. Women have as different desires, wishes, kinks, bugbears, irritations and dislikes from each other as men do. I get profoundly irritated by statements such as “women like X” or “it feels good when you touch a woman like Y on her Z” because you simply can’t make sweeping statements about all women based on what you think, or on what your experience of women in your life is, or if you’re a woman, on what you like. While you may indeed find a large audience of women going “YES this is ME and THIS IS WHAT I WANT” there’s just as many other women going “er, no. This doesn’t speak for me at all. Please stop.”
Take the first picture for example. The arrow pointing to her vagina that says “do be gentle”, and the statement in #6 about being gentle with the clitoris. This is a pretty individual thing. I know plenty of women that be like “gentle? Fuck that noise. POUND ME”. Also, sometimes you might want it gentle and slow, but sometimes you want someone to really go to town on you. Or take section 4 – “You must behave as if her vagina is the greatest thing you’ve ever smelled, tasted, and had the privilege to be near. She must believe that she is letting you eat the Cinnabon that is attached to her body” Really? Maybe some women want that but to me that’s just plain weird. I’ve known women that *hate* receiving oral sex. And I am not going to pretend a dude’s penis is the most delicious thing I’ve ever been near and that I am privileged to be near it, why would I expect it in return?
Back to picture 1 – please, PLEASE, men out there do not think of this as a guide to what all women want. Not all women want you to look deep into their eyes when fucking. Some of them hate it. Not all women want you to be gentle with their breasts, or grope and smack their ass. Many might, and if a woman gives you this picture and says “here, this is a handy guide to what I like” then sure you’re good to go. But - and I am serious about this women being complex and diverse issues thing here – do not assume this is what all women like.
I had one ex who loved having his ears licked. I am not going to assume that every other guy ever likes having his ears licked. But this excerpt (and fair’s fair, I’ve not read the book, perhaps this article isn’t doing the book any favours) seems to suggest that you should never lick a girls ear. Some girls might love it, and that’s ok. It suggests you should always shower. But some girls get turned on by the smell of unwashed lion, and that’s ok too. I have a friend that LOVES being sent dick pics (only when she asks for them though. Not so much unsolicited.) so hopefully her suitors never take heed of #4.
There is some good advice in there – about trying things out, being intuitive, respect. But some of it gets so specific that it really doesn’t work as a guide to sex tips that ‘we’ want you to know.
So, being me, I thought I’d have a go at writing a less-specific-but-still-helpful guide to having super awesome sexy times. A friend offered to illustrate it, so then I *had* to write it. So here are…
Rockstar Dinosaur Pirate Princess’s 9 super sex tips!
1) Ask me what I like
It can be a massive turn on when someone asks what you like to do, and then does it. Remember – asking doesn’t have to be verbal. If you find it hard to talk about sex then you can write notes to each other, do it by email or messaging. The important thing is to find out what the other person wants to do, and want they like to do, and what feels good. And work with that.
2) Tell me what you like
Just because other people you’ve been with have liked The Thing, don’t assume any other sexual partners also like The Thing. Each person is different. Sex should be about mutual pleasure - getting what you want and giving what they want. Again, if you don’t feel comfortable saying things out loud then you can find other ways of communicating. But what’s important is you let each other know what you like, what you want and what makes you feel awesome.
3) If I say stop, stop
Awesome sex is always consensual, and consent is continuous. Even if you’re right in the middle of something, and someone says stop? You stop. For example, if you’re in a close relationship with me and we’re comfortable with each other and I am saying ‘stop’ it’s probably either because a particular thing isn’t working for me, or because some part of my body is partially dislocating. It doesn’t really matter what the reason is though. Because if someone says stop, you stop.
4) If I say don’t stop, don’t stop
If I am saying “oh god oh god, don’t stop, yes, there, just there” then DON’T STOP DOING WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING. Seriously. I can’t tell you the number of times someone has stopped doing the thing they were doing when I’ve said don’t stop, and started doing something else, and I am like “what? No, wait? Why did you stop doing the thing? I was liking the thing.”
5) Ignore 3 & 4 if we have a pre-arranged kink agreement and those aren’t the safewords
Ok, this might not be relevant to *everyone*, because not everyone has kink agreements or needs safewords. But I did want to include a tip that acknowledges that not all sexual relationships are as clear cut, and you might actually have a specific kink around saying ‘stop’ and the other person carrying on or saying ‘don’t stop’ and the other person does something else. Some people find this super sexy. See 1 and 2 for more information.
6) If 5 applies and I use the safe word, stop
Kink arrangements should be agreed on by both parties in advance, with clear guidelines over what is ok and what isn’t. And if someone says the safe word, then you stop.
.
7) Just because I don’t want to right now doesn’t mean i don’t want to ever
Sometimes people aren’t in the mood. It doesn’t mean they don’t still fancy the pants off you, they just don’t feel like it right now this minute. Often one party can take this as a rejection and feel bad or frustrated or upset; but there’s myriad reasons why someone might not be in the mood that have nothing to do with you. Just be understanding and go make yourself a cup of tea or something.
8) Just because I want to right now doesn’t mean I always do
I’ve already covered this before, so I’ll just plagiarise myself. If someone said “yes” to tea around your house last Saturday, that doesn’t mean that they want you to make them tea all the time. They don’t want you to come around unexpectedly to their place and make them tea and force them to drink it going “BUT YOU WANTED TEA LAST WEEK”, or to wake up to find you pouring tea down their throat going “BUT YOU WANTED TEA LAST NIGHT”.
9) Great communication makes great sex
The best sex comes from a place where everyone participating is present, and comfortable with what’s happening, and is enjoying themselves. The best way to achieve this is to communicate. Remember, communication isn’t just verbal; it’s about looking, touching, connecting, texting, winking. Being on the same level as someone, asking for what you want, asking what the other person wants. That’s where great sex starts. The rest is up to you.
Huge thanks to Iriini Kalliomäki for the fantastic original artwork. You can check out her blog here!
I have been struck down with some kind of virus for the last few days; I am a highly efficient snot producing machine with a high temperature and razorblades in my throat. I’ve spent the last couple of days wrapped up in a duvet watching day time TV and generally feeling sorry for myself.
I am on the mend today, not 100% but definitely feeling more human and less like a swampy sweat monster from the planet catarrh. I hope I am not catching, as I had to vote.
I HAD to vote. Not legally, I mean. In the UK it’s not like in Australia where voting is compulsory; in the UK Voting is a democratic right, and you can choose not to vote.
But I think everyone should choose to vote. Especially women.
2015 marks the 97th anniversary of women in the UK being entitled to vote (although it would be another 10 years before women has the same voting rights as men). It also marks the FIRST TIME that women in Saudi Arabia are allowed to vote.
The right of women to vote has been hard fought for by passionate women who put their health and lives at risk so that future generations would have the right to have a say in who governs us.
I’ve heard some “excuses” as to why people might not vote this election and they disappoint me. It’s a safe seat, my vote doesn’t matter. The polling station is in a really inconvenient place. I don’t like any of the candidates/parties. None of these are good reasons not to vote.
Sure, your seat might be a safe seat, but if every single person in your area who doesn’t think it’s worth it because it’s a safe seat turned up to vote, and they vote for someone other than the present incumbent, it’s not such a safe seat any more, is it? That aside, Every vote is counted, even in a safe seat. Every. Single. Vote. So even if it’s a landslide victory for the present incumbent, a huge rise in other votes gets noticed. Even safe seats can get a shock - but only if you go and vote.
I had to wander around looking for my polling station earlier, as my local borough had inconveniently given me the wrong address for my polling station. Annoying at the best of times, but when you are ill it’s not fun at all. But while I was voting, an old woman, unable to walk without a wheeled walking aid, arrived to vote. It took her several minutes just to walk from the gate to the polling station door. She was so exhausted, she had to rest while the poll station staff fetched her water. And then she left to walk home again. It must have taken her ages. But she came out and cast her vote because voting is important.
Don’t like any of the candidates? Spoil your ballot. It will count. And you will have voted. You will have attended the voting booth and sent a clear message that none of the parties represent you. If you really don’t want to vote for any of the candidates, don’t. Add a box at the bottom that says “none of the above” and put an X in it. Write NO TO EVERYONE across the paper. Draw pair of ovaries. Whatever. Just go to the polling station and get your ballot paper and commit your minor act of civil disobedience. It’s still more productive, and more empowered, than not voting.
Once I’d eventually found the correct polling station and was in the booth, I spent longer in there than I ever have in all my years of being old enough to vote (I am old enough for this to be my 5th General Election). Previous years I’ve known who to vote for and been confident enough to put my X in the box without a second thought. This year I’ve put more thought into my vote, and how to vote, and what my vote means. At the point where I stepped into the ballot box I still hadn’t decided whether to vote purely on policy, to vote local, to vote as a protest, to vote with my heart, to spoil my ballot.
I don’t like any of the current political parties, to be honest. I don’t think any of them have 100% viable policies. I did the Vote For Policies test and was surprised to get 100% Green as the result; I don’t actually agree with all of their policies. I also don’t particularly like my local Green candidate. I DO like my local Labour candidate, a lot. I think she’s brilliant for the area, and for women. But a vote for her is a vote for Labour, and I no longer feel they represent my beliefs. I could vote for TUSC; their candidate impressed at a hustings I attended and as a public sector worker I am very much behind a no-more-cuts drive. I’m in a pretty darn safe Labour seat - my vote for any other candidate would be little more than a protest vote. I could draw a dinosaur on my ballot paper.
All of these options were open to me as I stood in the booth, running over all my options. I did make a decision. And the beauty of our voting system is that I am entitled to an entirely confidential vote. I don’t have to tell anyone what I chose. But I could choose. I was free to, and had the right to, make my choice about the government of my country.
Which way I voted, or what I did with my ballot paper, that’s far less important than the fact that I voted.
Whatever your political inclinations, whoever you think should win, whatever your reasoning behind what you put on that ballot paper - you should vote today. Because you can. And that’s a powerful thing.
Apologies for the lack of blog day last week. I took a week off, for the first time since starting this blog and mainly on the advice of Mother DinosaurPirate who recognised that perhaps I wasn’t coping with my sudden and unexpected internet exposure entirely as well I was pretending I was.
I can honestly say that the last few weeks of my life have been some of the weirdest and most intense of my life.
This weekend I did two things that I haven’t done since I was a child.
1 - went to a fancy dress party without alcohol
2 - went out in public wearing a leotard
I love fancy dress parties. I LOVE them. I love to dress up, do different makeup, hair, be someone else for a few hours. Halloween is hands down my favourite celebration day of the year and has been since my first attempts to trick or treat aged 8 dressed as a bat in a costume made out of my gym kit, a couple of bin bags and a cat mask. Back then Halloween wasn’t really A Thing in England so most of the neighbours were rather bemused, but I insisted on having a Halloween party every year nonetheless.
In the past I’ve dressed up as, amongst other things, a Weeping Angel, Stormer from Jem and the Holograms, Dazzler, The Cheshire Cat, A Thesaurus, I will dress like a pirate at the drop of a fucking tricorn hat. I have an entire suitcase so big that I can actually get into it and zip it shut with me still inside full to bursting with fancy dress costumes, accessories, wigs and make up. You get the picture. I like to play dress up. I usually pick a character where I can make the costume as flattering to my figure as possible, because for as long as I’ve been self aware, I’ve had issues with my body. Costumes would be carefully constructed so no one would see my round belly, my wobbly arms, my thunderous thighs, and my monstrously disproportionate hips. All of these parts of me must be hidden at all costs, lest people shrink from me in horror and faint at the sight of my vast wobblyness. Where I couldn’t make the costume flattering enough, I just made sure I was so drunk I didn’t care what the hell I looked like. Of course, that often had the knock on effect that I couldn’t really remember the party.
The thing is, my body parts, while perhaps a bit wobbly, they are *not* disgusting or monstrous. Really, at a UK size 12-16 (depending on area you’re measuring) they aren’t even that big. They are the component parts of my body which comprise *me*. Why do I pick apart myself in this cruel way, in a manner I would never consider doing to anyone else? I look at everyone else around me and see their beauty - see their composite whole, their person, and their completeness. I don’t look at my friends and separate out their body parts into “perfect” and “wrong”. This is of course a rhetorical question - the answer lies all around us in the every day messages telling women that the most important thing about us is our appearance. Everything else is secondary.
I learned the hard way that, seriously, that’s complete bullshit. And even knowing that it is bullshit, it’s really REALLY hard to get out of your own head when all you can see is that your body is a collection of parts which are ‘Too XXX’. Too small. Too big. Too thin. Too wobbly. Too uneven. Too frizzy.
Too COMPARED TO WHAT? Too compared to a teeny tiny totally unrepresentative sample of women in the media who are held up as having the ‘right’ shape. And what is the ‘right’ shape? Because this shit isn’t inbuilt you know. We don’t have a hardwired image in all of our brains of the ‘perfect shape’. The ‘right’ shape is entirely socially constructed and perceptions of ‘beauty’ differ massively across cultures.
One project trying to undo some of this ‘too’ damage is Jes M Baker and Liora K‘s awe inspiring ‘Expose‘. I first saw this a couple of weeks ago and have revisited the site many times to gaze at the wonderful bodies. The experience of seeing bodies that *look like yours* presented in such a sensitive and beautiful way is potentially transformative. I’ve since been thinking a great deal about my body and how I can accept it and bring it back into being part of ‘me’ again instead of a lump of muscle and skin and fat that I walk around within, which is somehow a separate entity with which I am in constant battle.
So. When I was invited to a party with the theme of “Rubbish Wrestling Gimmicks” and my friend suggested “crazy cat ladies” and I googled “80s female wrestlers” and realised that they basically wore leotards and tights instead of going OH GOD NO I CAN’T BECAUSE MY BODY IS TOO XXX AND THE DRINKS AND EVERYTHING IS TOO XXX, I decided to go and buy a damn leotard and some leopard print leggings and wear those mofos with a pair of damn cat ears and I WILL FEEL GOOD ABOUT IT because this is MY DAMN BODY and as much as we may fall out over things like headaches and muscle pains and joint issues it is MINE and it is the only one I will ever have and LET’S JUST DO THIS THING. (I suspect I might have said some of this out loud in the shop’s changing room judging by the odd look I got from the lady working there when I left the cubicle.)
I went to the party, in my leotard and leopard print leggings and ears, me and my big thighs and my round tummy and my curvy old hips. I stuck to the soda water (ok, I fess up, I also had a can of Monster Rehab. Don’t judge me - I have to have *something*. And it has TEA in it.) and I had a brilliant time. I felt like Bettie Page. Somehow something ticked over in my brain to turn what I’d aways seen as chub and flub to soft and delicious curves. I felt sexy and beautiful and surprisingly at ease. I won’t say I felt entirely comfortable *all*night, but considering that I put on a swimming costume for the first time a month ago, I’d say feeling attractive in a leotard while totally sober is a massive step.
It helps that I’ve kept up the swimming twice weekly, that I’ve kept up the cycling to work even though the weather is getting crapper, and that I’ve kept up (mostly) with the massive sugar cull. All of that has combined to helping me to feel that much happier with what I see in the mirror and feeling more comfortable in my own skin. So it wasn’t all down to the Expose project - but it was a final step for me in realising that my body isn’t abnormal. If you think about it, all bodies are ‘abnormal’. Because what *is* normal when we’re all so different? I won’t ever be a size 10 - I am just not built that way. And thanks to the last few weeks I now know that I am comfortable with that. I don’t need to bully myself and berate myself for not fitting into an unrealistic mold. I just need to carry on learning to love my body, and remember that it’s not just my body - it’s me.
As Liora K puts so beautifully:
…their bodies deserved to be seen, that what they perceive as faults are simply THEM, and are neither right nor wrong. That showing their bodies won’t innately cause them harm. That their breasts won’t cause damage to those around them, or their bellies or thighs either. That their nudity, while making them vulnerable, does not make them at fault. And that lastly, their bodies are their vehicles through life, and to treat them with kindness.
I kind of want to get “your body is your vehicle through life, treat it with kindness” tattooed somewhere on me, as a constant reminder to keep hold of my new-found body positivity, because feeling good about myself as I am feels a million times better than feeling bad because of something I’m not.
Since 2010 pay freezes, below inflation incremental pay ‘rises’ and redundancies mean that I am doing the work of three people for what is essentially a pay cut. And I’m lucky. I earn enough and have a life situation where I don’t need in-work benefits. Many public sector workers don’t. Why should people being paid by the government have to also take benefits, simply through low pay, when MPs and bankers (who, let’s not forget, CAUSED the financial problems in the first place) are receiving huge inflation busting pay rises?
This isn’t just about me, and it’s not about ‘greedy public sector workers’. This is about a fair working wage for the people that keep the country going.
I’m lucky. I can take the hit of losing a day’s pay. Others can’t, and they are striking today and I am striking with them, for them, and for a fair working wage. Please support the strike.
http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/jul/06/celebrate-strikers-media-opposed-trade-unions
