Does this lipstick make me look like a whore?

I was 10 years old, my friend, Erin and I were sitting on an old rusty fence surrounding a small graveyard that was on her grandparents’ land. It was the first time we had hung out outside of school. I had brought my dual Maybelline blush that my parents had bought me and she had children’s play make-up; we had made ourselves up as best as 10 year old girls can. We sat basking in the sun, talking about school, boys and such. Out of the blue, she asked me if I would trade my Maybelline blusher for her generic children’s’ face powder. I pondered this as I was certain my parents would be upset, she threw red nailpolish into the deal. The red nailpolish was also some generic children’s nailpolish, not real nailpolish; it peeled off so that you didn’t need nailpolish remover. Then she also promised to be my best friend. What girl could say no to the potential of a best friend?! I relented. The deal done. My Mother was upset that I had traded my blusher that she claimed was ‘expensive’ and almost called Erin’s Mother so that I could get it back. I managed to talk her out of it. The red nailpolish was forbidden to wear other than to play. I was allowed to wear nailpolish to school or out, but only in certain colors. Red was not appropriate and later when I was a teenager who also wanted red lipstick I was told why. Because my Mother thought red lipstick and red nailpolish was ‘slutty.’ She claimed prostitutes wear red lipstick and red nailpolish.

I loved red lipstick, the bright, true cadmium red. Did it not look sexy when Ann Wilson wore it? Those pouty red lips, it seemed to me that that was what a true woman looked like. She didn’t seem slutty to me, I wanted to be Ann Wilson when I was 12. Naturally, I coveted red lipstick and the matching nail polish. I made vows to myself that when I was an adult, I would wear bright, cadmium red lipstick with the matching nailpolish. Of course every 12 year old thinks being an adult is going to be great, mainly because no one will tell you what to do – well at least maybe your parents and teachers. Those are the main offenders to to a 12 year old.

When I was about 15, “grunge” became popular and the red lipstick was forgotten. I started wearing lipstick in colors such as: white, black, and a deep dark purple. Sometimes I put on some black eye make-up. I’d paint my nails black or every finger a different color. I started borrowing my Dad’s old clothes from the 70′s and 80′s, when I discovered them while looking for flannel shirts in his closet – it was the best place to ‘shop’ for clothes. I would wear short pleated skirts, knee-socks, ripped dance tights, one of my Dad’s shirts, and army boots. She was okay with this display of my individuality. Until I bought black fishnets – Mom wasn’t too crazy about the black fishnets. She mentioned how not okay she was with the fishnets, I could still wear them, though she thought them questionable. I guess they’re ‘slutty’ too. I love fishnets, I love the pattern, the texture, the way they look on. I own three pair.

Once I became an adult, I guess I became slightly less obsessed with owning red lipstick and red nailpolish. I did eventually buy one of each. I hardly ever wear the lipstick and I only paint my toenails. Though I do feel a small sense of satisfaction in being able to paint them a nice bright red. I still think that red lipstick on the right woman is very sexy – screw the sexy underwear just put on red lipstick, I don’t care if your wearing white cotton panties with a wife-beater along with it.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

damsel in distress

I was on an online forum entitled “BDSM and your childhood.” Some close-minded person started the forum, I suppose as a way to make us ashamed of our already guilty-but-oh-so-good-pleasures. I think everyone minus the closed minded asshat managed to make the forum interesting despite the reasoning behind its inception. A few folks posted about the ‘signs’ from their childhood. I for instance, had a thing about being tied up. I would tie myself up and pretend to be the damsel in distress and someone would come and rescue me. Unfortunately, I’m an only child and most times I was playing this fantasy out by myself. Some of my fantasies came from TV show and soap opera plots. This is where I got my good ‘kidnapping/damsel in distress’ ideas for the fantasies I’d play out with my imaginary friends. On one occasion, I had this long rope of sequins from a dance costume. Well I decided to tie the rope of sequins around my throat and proceeded to get a knot in it that I couldn’t get out! I had to get my Mom to help me untie it! I told her that I was using it as a necklace and it got tangled up while I was playing. When I did have friends around to play with, most just wanted to play Barbie. Sometimes we’d tie up Barbie and pretend that she was a hostage and another Barbie or Ken would come, beat up the ‘bad guy’ and rescue her.

In high school, my friends Michelle and Jen turned me on to Ann Rice’s “Sleeping Beauty” novels written under the pseudonym, A. N. Roquelaure. It was the closest 15 and 16 year olds can get to porn. They don’t teach BDSM in sex ed. We’d whisper about the plot of the trilogy to other friends who didn’t know about our naughty reading pleasure. To an outsider we probably looked like a bunch of geeks reading for fun and passing the books to each other in class.

I once dated a woman I had high hopes for in the kinky department. She worked for a sex toy company. She told everyone she met about it and the assortment of items that they sold. She told me on our first date. Turns out she was pretty vanilla compared to me. The thing is, I don’t really know how to ask for it, though I did kind of mention things I’m into. The one time we had sex was good, but I was really hoping for something more. I had mentioned it to some people on a BDSM site: how does one go about asking for it and mentioning it without potentially scaring the crap out of your date? Their advice is the conversation has to happen, when your comfortable with the person. Or you just get lucky and meet someone who mentions it first. If everyone I dated could have the sexual prowess my last girlfriend had I wouldn’t have this problem. While personality wise we didn’t fit, the sex was pretty damn good. She was the type of gal who probably owned at least one of everything at Amazing Superstore and Miko. There wasn’t a place, or time that was inappropriate when it came to sex. There wasn’t a position she wouldn’t try!

Sometimes I think to myself, well how much do I need it? Could I just settle for someone who has vanilla sex if they have a good personality? Would that be enough? Its not because I feel I need to be dominated or dominate someone. I just think it makes sex more interesting and exciting. I don’t know if I could settle for just plain, regular sex. When I haven’t had it in awhile, sure I’ll go for vanilla. I think I like the pain and pleasure for the aesthetic of it, plain and simple.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

Skanky Smutty Slutty

Skanky Smutty Slutty

I awoke this morning stiff and sore. I wish I could say that it was because I was up to something incredibly naughty this weekend. Unfortunatly I worked, more specifically stocked, at my retail job this weekend. Its been way too long since I woke up the day after something hot and naughty and smiled at my stiff, sore muscles. One of my good friends was up to no good this weekend, and I for one am very proud of her. At least one of us singles should be getting some. I on the otherhand, spend more time thinking (and writing) about sex than actually doing it. I guess I can refute that ‘slut’ reputation that I had in 7th grade.

Many people I know, have told me that they fucked around a lot in their youth and young adulthood. I had one friend, from college, who claimed to have sex with at least 14 different men. Now I realize I should be glad that I haven’t slept with 14 different people because there are a lot of diseases out there and the potential goes up with your number of sex partners. I guess I feel a little ripped off for the lack of sexual experience. I’m a woman teeming with passion and it seems ludicrous that I’m usually just frustrated by all this pent up desire. Sure I had my artistic catalysts to channel all that energy – otherwise I may have lost my mind. I suppose the main reason for my not screwing around in my youth is because some girl, in 7th grade, called me a slut. And it stuck because she had a big mouth and a lot of friends. Being a “slut” suddenly makes all those sexual feelings, that teenagers have, seem depraved, and like something one shouldn’t be feeling. And certainly not acting on! I’ve heard that many girls who are labeled “school slut” go on to fulfill that role, its a little like a self fulfilling prophecy. However, I was intent on proving those bitches wrong! At my own expense. My feelings of guilt had more to do with this label than any guilt my upbringing may have taught.

All through school I was the quiet girl the girl, who did her work never got in trouble and was fairly intelligent. I never spoke unless spoken to, I was quite unpopular and had few friends. I’d had a few boyfriends that I had held hands and kissed, but that was it. Why was I labeled slut? At the time I had a boyfriend who one day was hanging out with this young lady named “Mary.” “Mary” was hanging all over my boyfriend at lunch and one of her friends, “Laura” came over to my table at lunch to tell me/gloat. I recall her trying to convince me that my boyfriend probably wasn’t a good person and I should dump him – no shit. “Laura” went back and forth relaying messages between my boyfriend turned ex and “Mary.” At some point in, I referred to “Mary” as a slut for hanging all over my boyfriend. Then “Laura” went and told “Mary,” my now ex-boyfriend and a few of their friends what I said. Then, “Mary” called me a slut. Next thing I knew the whole junior high thought I was the Coventry town whore! As if being 14 years old isn’t reason enough to feel uncomfortable about yourself and your sexuality!

As I said, “Mary” had a big mouth and more friends than me. Every day that I attended school, from grade 7 – 9, I was threatened and called names. Oh sure sticks and stones, that’s a nice cliché. But in reality, girls would threaten to beat me up on a daily basis. I would have people yell “skank,” or “slut” as I walked by them in the hallway. Boys wouldn’t dare show interest in me… I would try not to tell any of my loud mouth friends about current crushes, because they’d tell them. Which is cute, but when your the school slut, the boy would look me over in disgust. Contrary to popular belief, most boys don’t want to date or associate with the school slut. People wouldn’t become friends with me, my best friend at the time began distancing herself from me. I suppose she wasn’t really my “best friend.” She was overly concerned about being popular and being friends with the school slut certainly wasn’t the kind of popular she wanted. On the upside, you really find out who your friends are when your labeled “slut.” I have to commend the people that continued to associate with me despite this. Of course I did have this one “friend” who rather than show compassion, would laugh when the girls would call me a slut, as if it were a big joke. As much as this hurt, what was I going to do? If I turned on her she would be one more person who hated me. The only time she showed concern is when my tormentors turned their vengeance on her, suddenly she had a taste of what it was like and she didn’t like it.

Said “friend” practically dragged me to the school guidance counselor, because not one single teacher in my school ever reprimanded these girls when they picked on me – in class! By the way, the school guidance counselor did jack shit to help the situation. And school officials wonder why some kids go crazy and bring guns to school and shoot everyone. I think this was the thing that really got me, not that the other kids believed the rumors and even my own best friend, but the fact that the school teachers and even the teachers at my fucking catechism turned the other way. One would think catechism would at least be the “safe haven” no one is going to talk shit at a religious institution, but they did, and the adults, the people supposedly in charge, did absolutely nothing. They turned the other cheek. I find it hard to believe that not one single adult in charge could not have overheard the comments or threats that were aimed at me. It happened all the time. Which is why when I have children they will never attend a school located in Coventry, Rhode Island I don’t care how “good” these schools supposedly are… I know differently. Also, I know other people who were tormented in school by bullies while the authority figures pretended it didn’t exist.

For some asinine reason, I thought going to high school, a change of scenery, would be enough for these girls to stop tormenting me. “Mary” stayed back so I didn’t have her to contend with, unfortunately, “Laura,” another girl named, “Kyla,” and their friends didn’t. However without their ringleader, enough people that cared, and a few big, tough girls standing up for me, things improved. Girls that when they said, “shut the fuck up, Melanie is cool,” you shut the fuck up if you wanted to live to talk about it. I recall the first girl that stood up for me. “Laura” ended up in my chorus class. She was telling anyone who would listen that I wore skirts that were so short, my underwear was showing, which I think school officials may have noticed. One of these big tough girls, who happened to know her, turned to her and said, “shut the fuck up and leave that poor girl alone.” I believe she also turned to me and apologized for her “friend’s” behavior. Another one of my big tough avengers, “Jan” happened to be in my homeroom and best friends with “Kyla.” She had told me that “Kyla” wasn’t a bad person except for that one flaw. “Kyla” supposedly couldn’t even explain to her own best friend why she didn’t like me. I’m sure I have “Jan” to thank the most for stopping these girls. Not so sure what she did or said, though I know she had talks with them. By the end of my freshman year, the slut label was forgotten by just about everyone except these girls who could no longer make people believe that the quiet girl was the town whore. Their name calling eventually just turned into dirty looks as I tried to avoid them in the hallway. As for my “best friend” I let her go off and be whatever it was she needed to be. She never really became “popular”… and I became friends with better people who didn’t give a shit what other people said about me or them for that matter. The upper classmen took interest in me as the boys my own age still didn’t talk to me, but who cares when older guys are interested in you? They had cars.

The problem with labels such as “slut” is the fact that its always in the back of your mind long after the rumors have stopped. I always feared it might resurface – it sounds stupid I know. When I lost my virginity, as much as I did in fact want to sleep with my then current boyfriend, I also had that fear that everyone would know. Not realizing half the school was fucking around, I feared to walk into school and hear the word “slut” aimed at me again. Of course I never ever told this guy about what had happened in junior high and he didn’t know because he was two years younger than me. Like I didn’t have enough to worry about! I was a senior getting ready for college, all these sexual feelings, and wondering if its okay to feel them! Thankfully, no one ever called me a slut again, except in jest. Many, many books on sex and sexuality have made me realize the pressure from society to be a good little virgin on top of what happened to me, have given me insight and the ability to talk openly about sex and sexuality… and eventually realizing my being bisexual. I may have figured that one out sooner if I were not so busy trying to repress all my feelings.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

going off to dreamland…

I daydream – a lot. It used to be my coping mechanism as a teenager. I didn’t like many of the people I went to school with, I thought they were awful and superficial. Of course I got stuck in the same classes with the awful, superficial ones. I also found myself completely bored in just every class from grade 7 – 12 and a few college classes. I would think about kissing or screwing that cute guy, later that girl, sometimes I’d have a ménage à trois dream. I still daydream even now, maybe its something creative people do?

I’m not going to lie, I’ve had sex daydreams at work, not my current job that usually keeps me occupied. I once had a minor fender-bender because I was busy having a sexual fantasy, I try not to do that. I also had to refrain from laughing when I apologized to the person whose truck I had just hit. I think my mind needs to be occupied otherwise you will probably lose me to dreamland. If I’m unoccupied I tend to get exhausted from the sheer boredom of trying to keep myself conscious. I once had this job where I’d sit at a desk, in a back room, with no windows, and what felt like no heat. My job consisted of photo retouching using Adobe Photoshop, and putting together wedding and bat mitzvah albums – I wanted to slit my wrists with my x-acto knife. I used to think, when I wasn’t daydreaming, about how many hours of my young life were being wasted by being there doing meaningless tasks. I once dozed off while putting together a wedding album – its not rocket science, it was all computer based. I used to make comments like, “my five year old cousin could do this job.” I wouldn’t say this to my boss however. It was basically putting images in a template – this is not what I went to art school for! The local radio station WBRU couldn’t always keep my attention. I had started wondering if I had A.D.D. If only I could receive a paycheck for sleeping and/or daydreaming! Sometimes I would get a “break” and I’d have to answer a phone call. If I were having a really good daydream I would feel a bit pissy about having to answer the phone – can’t they tell I was having a really good sex dream? Can’t they call back later?!

After that job, I got a graphic design job where I took company logos and put them in a template. This job started at 8am. I am not a morning person. At least I did have a window. This art department was also located in a back room, it felt like it had no heat, and my Macintosh computer was from 1996 (it was 2006). I’d put on my headphones and away my imagination would go! No phones to interrupt my dreams about that current crush or that cute girl I seen at the coffee shop. Not that anyone was going to burst through my office door, to sneak off to have crazy wild sex in the bathroom – the only place where’d there would be privacy. I wonder if I’m the only person who does a mental scan of their workplace and wonders where would be a good place for impromptu sex? I once worked in a historical place in Newport (RI) – it was a large building, there was a plethora of good places that I unfortunately didn’t get to try out. I suppose having sex at work is probably a bad idea and I should just stick to thinking about it – at least at work. Once I punch out, all bets are off.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

Banging Naughties.

Sexuality. Its something as a woman you are trained by society to embrace and repel. Maybe sexuality in the right dosage is more what it is; enough to be agreeable by societies’ impossible demands. You need to simultaneously be a virgin and sex kitten. Women and girls are presented with mixed messages of women being sexy vixens parading around in Victoria’s Secret ads. And hey there nice to look at, but at the same time we are told to wait until we see a ring before having sex? Not to mention, sure your parading around with lace and satin hidden beneath clothing, but its promised sexuality. Wearing satin and lace doesn’t mean your going to have men or women lining up at your door because your wearing sexy underwear. And the same society that embraces sexually charged vixens also condemns them. We don’t want to be too sexy that would mean you were having sex! And you most certainly don’t want to be having sex with all sorts people, then your a slut! Your not supposed to actually want it; acting like you want it makes you sexy, but also makes you seem slutty! On Match.com, under the section that can “help” one pick a screen name, it suggests that you “DON’T sound smutty.” For example: using things such as “sexy” and “xxx” in your screen name. I guess match.com doesn’t realize some people actually want to have sex and that some people use the internet to find other “smuts” to bang naughties with.

Sex education doesn’t even give women (or men) names for female genitals! It all falls under the category of ‘vagina’ as if that’s it. My gynecologist does not have one single image of what the female genitalia looks like. Every other doctor I’ve ever been to has some medical related chart or visual on the wall, for example my chiropractor has images of the skeletal and muscular systems – they provide great entertainment while your waiting in the room. Why no charts or images of the female genitalia? Many women and girls don’t know what’s “down there” I think it’d be helpful to know what the fuck your gyno is talking about and looking at. I don’t think a medical image of our anatomy would be in bad taste, its a gynecologist, they’re looking at it, why can’t we? We can’t see our vagina without a mirror held between our legs. Which I’m certain someone in society would condemn, looking at your naughties.

I once stumbled upon a lesbian sex book, I think Amazon.com recommended it. All bets were off after that. It fascinated me. I made certain to find more, and I did. I studied diagram after diagram of what sex education told me was just my vagina. The mirror trick was suggested by one book I read, so you could see ‘down there.’ Its pretty interesting I must admit, more interesting than the diagrams. And one finally knows what they are talking about in said diagrams. Of course after receiving all this knowledge via book after book, what is a single gal to do with it? Of course I wanted to run out and try this cunninglus that all the lesbian sex books talked about, now I’m informed! Knowledge is power. Society tells me one night stands are ‘slutty’ and quite frankly I’m not so into them myself. I usually get really nervous on a first date or if I meet some random attractive person and I don’t think there’s anything that could make me relax enough to have sex with a stranger. I’m a little high strung but at least I’m not sleeping with everyone in town.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

god! I love THIS song!

My current state of mind can be summed up with the lyrics “we get high on music…” (from “Hoverin” by the Amps.) I’ve always had a special love for music, even as a child. I can remember laying on the living room floor with these big crazy 70′s headphones listening to Heart’s “Little Queen” on my Dad’s 8-track. Listening to my parents’ 8-tracks from the 60′s and 70′s was a special time for me until I got my own music. My first record ever was Madonna’s single for “Like a Virgin” – much to my Méme’s horror because I was about 8 years old listening to a song entitled “Like a Virgin.” I just thought it was a good song to dance to. Now I have music for every mood. I’m not sure if the musicians creating always had that exact feeling I have in mind when they recorded it, but like every art form, music is subjective. Some music can make me feel hot, fevered, reeling, dizzy, crazy, sexy, ect. There have been cd’s that I just lay on the floor in a daze listening to, letting the feeling just wash over me – if only there were someone to make-out with while laying on the floor in my state of rhythmic ecstasy. I think the last cd that made me feel all hot and bothered was Cat Power’s “the greatest.” I would just lay on my bedroom floor thinking this would be a really great cd to get laid to. I recently seen Cat Power’s performance on David Letterman – and the performance was certainly NOT the greatest. Chan Marshall, the singer, kind of ruined it for me. She looked as if she was either trying to masturbate herself, really had to pee or maybe both. She was bent over with her hands between her legs for the entire performance. I guess she was feeling her music in her own special way.

The past month or so I’ve been feeling like a sex crazed teenaged boy. My hormones haven’t gone this nuts since about college. Its not that I haven’t wanted it since then, its ebb and flo. I think its because I’m not working as much at a job and I have ALOT of time on my hands to think. This is also when my imagination kicks into overdrive because I’m not exhausted from many hours of just doing the same mind numbing tasks day in and day out. Instead, I have all this creative and sexual energy! Despite the sexual frustration, its amazing! Its like a high. And music kind of taps into that all that energy. The fact that spring has sprung just further attributes to my creative high, the sun is shinning, I can open the windows, take off my several layers of clothes, take a walk… and I have all this time to do it!

The other day, felt like the best day of my life just driving from place to place with the windows down and the stereo blasting. I had to drop some artwork off in Pawtucket (RI), I had on Throwing Muses “University” as I zipped up and down and all around Pawtucket, as I get lost every time I go there. But I didn’t care. The sun was shinning I was so into every song that was blasting out of the speakers in my Ford Taurus. I felt like that episode of Strangers with Candy, the pot episode where the stoner girls says to Jerry Blank, “don’t you just love this song!” Only I wasn’t stoned. If gas prices weren’t so high and it wasn’t hazardous to the environment, I probably would’ve just drove around Pawtucket all day listening to cd’s.

Though this spring time high is kind of messing with my head – I flaked out and arrived at work a half hour late the other day. I didn’t even realize I was late which is the funny part. One of my co-workers teased me and asked me if I was in love, because I mentioned being a little flakey lately. Unfortunately not. At least I’d have an excuse. I’m not crushing on anyone these days. I haven’t had a date in months!

In honor of my spring time sexual energy I’ve complied a list of songs and cd’s that I think would be good to listen to while making out or getting laid:

songs:
“Judas Mon Coeur” Belly
“Are you Experienced?” Belly
“Superstar” Sonic Youth
“Flower” Sonic Youth
“G-Force” Ciccone Youth
“I’m on Fire” Bat for Lashes
“Troy” Sinead O’Conner
“the world comes tumblin’ down” the Distillers
“La Cumbia del Mole” Lila Downs
“Aly Walk With Me”the Ravonettes
“Carriage for Two” Tricky
“Transliterator” DeVotchka

cd’s:
Every REM cd
Every Morrissey cd
“Title TK” the Breeders
“Golden Ocean” 50 Foot Wave
“The Greatest” Cat Power
“Strange Angels” Kristin Hersh
The “Frida” soundtrack
“Little Queen” Heart
“Dreamboat Annie” Heart

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

virgin

Once upon a time I was a dancer. My parents put me in dance class at age 3 1/2 as form of physical therapy because I was born with a dislocated hip. By a year old, I was up and walking after having surgery, and a cast that extended from my waist to my feet – my parents tell me I was a chore to bring anywhere. The doctor had suggested that my parents have me involved in some sort of physical activity. Dance class was their activity of choice. My Mom tells me that even before I started taking lessons I would start dancing if their was music. I’ve always been a pretty active person, even if I’m not being physically active, my mind is. Its one of the reasons I have a hard time watching television unless its interesting and I’m not tired; otherwise I either can’t sit still or I sit there thinking. I’m the only person I know who could stay up half the night thinking. Physical activity usually stops the endless internal dialogue so that I can focus on the task at hand, movement. Part of the reason I liked dancing was because it was challenging, there was always that one thing you couldn’t do, and I could work off all that pent up energy. It also made me an avid music lover. I was dedicated to dancing, I practiced every single day even when I wasn’t in class. I probably didn’t have much of a life because of this and I didn’t care; I’ve actually turned down sex for dance class. There were few things I would’ve agreed to do, instead of dance class. I think the high of dancing and performing might be equivalent to sex. Both activities do release all those endorphins.

When I was in high school I dated a very controlling, clingy person named “Aiden.” While he never said that he disapproved of me splitting my time between him, dance class, gymnastics class, and being a flag twirler (no kidding), he didn’t need to. Flag twirling practice was right after school so it was harder for him to try to prevent me from going – I was also the captain of the team and my team mates usually found me at the end of the day before he did. However, dance and gymnastics classes were later in the day, he would try every trick in his 16 year old mind to keep me from going. Some of his tricks involved things like begging me to stay, complete with puppy dog eyes and attempts at seducing me. He succeeded in making me late a few times, and I hate being late. After I got sick of “Aiden” trying to interfere with my dance and gymnastics classes, I arranged for my Mother to call his house when I was there, at least two hours before class to remind me so that I had time to leave and get to class. “Aiden” thought my Mother was a controlling bitch, he had no idea I had told her to do it. It wasn’t like I was a tease, we had a lot of sex.

When I think of it, I can’t believe this is the person I chose to lose my virginity too. “Aiden” wasn’t a very nice person. He was self-involved, controlling, clingy, and very critical. I think the reason I dated him was because I had low self-esteem despite years of dancing, which really should’ve given me higher self-esteem, but it didn’t. By age 17, I was full of angst and anger. I knew the world wasn’t rose-colored, I rarely slept at night, boys never asked me out and I thought it was due to my lack of looks so therefore I mostly disliked the ones that were not my friends. I’ve always thought my friends were better looking and more interesting than me, so of course they got dates. I didn’t think anyone would be interested in dating me, I was boring and awkward. Teachers thought I was nice, shy, girl. Art, english, and chorus were the only classes where I paid attention all the time, yet I was a good student and did well in just about every subject. No one ever questions why a good student won’t say a word unless spoken to. When I was called on, I knew the answers. I sat still – usually daydreaming. I didn’t disrupt class. I blended in, yet I didn’t. I suppose I was perfect for someone who is self-involved, controlling, and clingy. I wouldn’t say no because no one else was asking and we both knew it. In a sense I think “Aiden” had equally low self-esteem, he just handled in a different manner.

At “Aiden’s” house there was no bedroom for him, there was a barn in the backyard that his mother and brother were going to turn into an apartment for him – it never happened. Though he did get this small trailer that was used as his temporary bedroom. It was approximately the size of a closet. At least I didn’t lose my virginity in the trailer. While I wanted to have sex, I think that all that pressure that society puts on girls to be the “good girl” made me wait – until we had been together for five months. Though by the third month he wanted to, but I kept putting it off, much to his dismay. I think my biggest fear regarding sex was being called a slut. It seemed like I kept hearing over and over that boys are going to want to fuck you and if you let them they will in turn tell everyone how ‘easy’ you are the next day. I don’t think health class teaches young people enough about sex, especially the part about you maybe wanting it. And that people like having sex. Sex is a natural human thing and while natural human things do sometimes have consequences; attempting to scare young people as a preventive measure doesn’t work. First off, your not teaching them what they need to know. And they are going to do it specifically because you told them not to. My church went so far as to show us a film of a woman having an abortion when I was in 10th grade; one of my classmates ended up having a seizure part-way through so we didn’t get to see the complete abortion. I also think that there is this fear of teaching young people the truth because they might just run out and try it, especially the girls. We’re supposed to be the superior ones that say, ‘no no Bobby, my virginity is precious,” because lord knows a man can’t possibly control himself, so its up to the female to do it. And I did, for about five months. A few times he got really pissed off, he couldn’t understand why I wanted to wait. Sensitivity was not his strong point. I think the pressure to not do it was worse than the pressure to do what I wanted to do, which was have sex. Everyone from the health teacher, to my church to my family said to just say no – but it wasn’t like he was offering heroin. I wanted to have sex, not get stoned off my ass. I finally did – sex that is. Losing my virginity was like a monkey off my back, a relief, no more pressure to keep my pussy under lock and key. Its not like I fucked everything in sight after that. And thankfully he didn’t tell everyone at school that I was easy, honestly I don’t think anyone would’ve given a shit as everyone was fucking each other anyways.

After we dated for about eight months – eight months of fighting, mostly because he wanted me to act a certain way, dress a certain way, be with him 24/7, or he’d tell me my art was crap. After eight months of that, he broke up with me, but told me that I could tell people that I broke it off with him. At first I couldn’t figure out why the hell that would even matter, until it hit me. It would make him look like the victim. It would look like I broke his heart and not the other way around. I never told anyone I broke it off with him. Everyone did tell me I was way better off without him. And my Méme reminded me that I was going to college, in the Fall, where there were men – lots of them. Leave it to my Méme to not be proud of the fact that her first grandchild is going to college, but that I am going to a place filled with potentially eligible bachelors – actually it seemed like some good motivation at the time.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

Kiss me I’m Irish.

I love kissing. Its one of my favorite things to do with a hottie. What happens inevitably after is equally as good. Kissing is the only thing that is somewhat sexual that is socially acceptable to do in public. Kissing can be sexy in the way you press up again the other’s body. Pull them towards you. Touch their arms, face, neck, back. Feel their breath on your skin. A light kiss on the mouth or a passionate wet kiss – where its as if you would swallow them whole. I’ve had a smattering of the above in my 31 years. I’ve dated a few very exceptional kissers. People whose kiss is so luscious and sexy, I think one could quite possibly get off just by kissing them.

The first boy I ever kissed was in 7th grade. “Alex” was my first boyfriend, he was about a foot shorter than me. Not exactly how a gal dreams her first boyfriend would be. Though I did adore him. I had a few classes with “Alex” and one day he asked me if I’d like to “go out” with him – agreeing to “go out” with someone at Coventry Jr. High in 1989 meant that you were an item. It didn’t matter that we didn’t go on dates or that I had never spoken to him prior to that day, from that day forward, we were an item. We had a torrid affair for 7th graders. We dated for a few months, then he broke up with me, then a few weeks later when I inadvertently started ‘going out’ his best friend, we were on again, after I broke up with the best friend of course. To be fair, I didn’t know the guy was his best friend, I don’t know how you date someone and somehow never encounter their best friend, but I hadn’t – oops!

“Alex” was the first guy I had ever kissed – no tongue, but still first guy I had ever kissed. It was usually a quick peck on the lips and a hug before class or at the end of the day before we got on the school bus. I really had no one to compare him with. So it seemed good at the time.

I think one of the best kissers was this guy I went on a few dates with in college, “Harry.” He was a lifeguard and on the swim team at one of the local colleges. He looked like a Abrocrombie and Fitch Model … or Tom Gorman of Belly, which way you want to look at it. Either way they are all prettier than me. I was uncertain what “Harry” saw in me, attraction is a strange thing. I met him at a nightclub in Providence. I had gone to said club with a friend who is a tall, beautiful and blonde; naturally every guy there wanted to dance with her, I kind of wanted to as well. Yet, I was in my usual spot, holding up the wall in the corner near the bar, when “Harry” approached me. I recall after the general introductions, he asked me how tall I was, he is 6’4.” When I told him I was 5′ 8 1/2″ he jokingly asked me to marry him! Then he asked if I’d like to dance. We danced, laughed, and talked. At one point he just leaned over and kissed me. It kind of took me by suprise. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, yet I must’ve hid it well as he kissed me again before we parted at the end of the night. My uncertainty about the kiss left me in turmoil for a week until our first actual date. Maybe I wasn’t in the “kissing” state of mind the night at the club because our first date, was a really good date. We went to see some movie – I don’t recall what we seen, but when we came out of the theater it was pouring rain. Of course his car was not in the front row. We were drenched by the time we got to his car and we kind of snuggled for a bit in his front seat before he took off. When we got to my house, we sat in his car snuggling and talking. He was running his hands through my hair, when he kind of grabbed a fist full of my hair and pulled me toward him to kiss me. That was one hell of a kiss, no uncertainty there! It then turned into like a three hour make-out session. I think it was one of the few times where I really had to control myself because I would’ve fucked him right there in the driveway in his car. However, he was a perfect gentleman and didn’t try anything – too bad for him – I was too shy to make a move myself. And still kind of am.

I’ve only made the first initial move once. It worked out for me so I don’t know why I don’t do it more often. It was the first woman I ever went on a date with and subsequently the first woman I ever kissed. We met via the internet, I believe it was on planetout.com. “Betty” was about five years older than me, recently divorced, and training to be a dominatrix. She didn’t tell me about the dominatrix part until about twenty minutes into our date. There was kind of an awkward silence after she told me that. We met at Starbucks and talked for a good two hours. I was mesmerized by “Betty’s” full red lips. There is something about red lipstick on a woman that is so enticing. Rather than end the date, we decided to head next door to what was then Barnes and Noble (its since moved, across the street). She wanted to show me some astrology book that she was raving about. I’m not really into astrology all that much, I just liked talking to her. It was fun standing close together looking over books of astrology, religion, and the other geeky like. I thought I felt some electricity between us, but perhaps it was just me. I really wanted to kiss her and couldn’t figure a good way to go about it in the middle of a bookstore. When it was finally time to call it a day, we walked out and stood chatting in front of Barnes and Noble for awhile. We leaned in to give each other a hug, which is when I turned my head, leaned down and our lips met. It turned into a rather passionate kiss for Barnes and Noble parking lot. Though we managed to restrain ourselves, it being the first date and all. Unfortunately there was never a second date.

I suppose kissing is all about who your kissing and how you feel towards about the one your kissing. Then again practice does make perfect. And I am a bit of a perfectionist. I’ve been complemented on my kissing technique, perhaps that should be in my online personal ad, but its not.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

Pretty under my things.

I recently went shopping for panties. Shopping for undergarments is one of those things I kind of prefer to put off if the GAP doesn’t have my favorites available in my size. I have a favorite underwear from there, bras are an entirely different story. The GAP happened to be out of their cotton lowrise hipsters in my size during this shopping trip. These are perfect panties for a girl whose been athletic her entire life and has muscular thighs with a bit of a booty. They are supposed to cover the entire booty area, according to the GAP website. Mine isn’t that big and it doesn’t. They are still comfy despite the lack of booty coverage. I don’t know what bigger gals wear for panties. My ex used to wear Victoria’s Secret cotton bikini underwear, she was bigger than me at least in clothing size – I beat her out in height. And the last girl I dated was probably about a size 12 and wore g-strings. Bikini and g-strings both seem like the most uncomfortable underwear, ever. I can not stand the way the elastic around the legs seem to cut off circulation in my legs. I can’t believe either of these women were comfortable in them. I suppose its just one of the joys of being female: uncomfortable undergarments. My other problem with bikini and many other styles of panties is the actual size of coverage for one’s crotch. Have you ever actually looked at how small that little patch, that is supposed to cover your goodies really is?! I’m a skinny girl and I don’t know what someone with a bigger area of coverage does, because many times there isn’t enough coverage for me! I feel like the people making women’s underwear have no idea that only a 12 year old girl might be able to comfortably wear their womens’ underwear. Or are they implying that women should have perfect little vagina and labia like a porn star? Porn stars are surgically enhanced, or decreased to be exact.

I ended up buying a few pairs of black cotton ‘boy-shorts’ from Target. One would imagine that they would cover everything, they don’t. They didn’t seem that small when I was looking at them. After wearing them about an hour I realized how incredibly small they really are. My booty is would be blowing in the wind if I wore them under a skirt. These are far from being defined as “shorts.” I think these would be in the classification of undergarments you wear when you hope or are going to get laid. I kind of feel like most women’s undergarments are designed with this idea in mind: that we’re just going to get them ripped off of us anyhow. I don’t think the fashion industry makes things for practicality anymore for women, unless your a 90 year old woman. I don’t want to wear granny pants! I’m still young and virile and don’t want to wear old lady underwear… so therein lies the problem. I suppose if there was someone willing and able, I would look pretty cute to them in these teenie-tiny underpants. But there isn’t. I’m sitting here alone in velour pj bottoms and a wife beater with butterflies on it. I’m also wearing a see-through bra that no one any time soon is going to see. My undergarments seem to serve no purpose other than to be really pretty when I take my clothes off.

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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.

androgyny

I feel we are not entirely ‘female’ or entirely ‘male’ more like we are hovering somewhere in between. I identify with being ‘female’ but grew up with boys. One these boys played Barbie dolls with me – I never told anyone, I knew the ridicule he’d face, it was the unwritten and unspoken agreement between us. Yet I owned toy cars, and played football with the boys. Everyone knew that. That was somewhat acceptable as long as a threw on a dress every once in awhile, and I had that Barbie collection at home. We are products of gender socialization, a culturally and socially constructed idea of what it is to be masculine or feminine within society and culture.

Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.