Much hoo-hah has been made recently about dating while feminist, with many, manybloggers--including the ladies here at HD--weighing in on how best to be hetero, feminist and horny. Good advice and forward-thinking, the lot of it, but what of the masses? Specifically, what of the masses who take sharpies into bathrooms and scribble on the walls?
I'm currently escaping a rain shower at my favorite Austin, Texas dive--of which I am, ahemm, the Mayor--and took a trip to the ladies' room. Looking around me as I did my business, I noticed that there's an awful lot of good-ish advice written on the stalls. If you're feeling lost or troubled in your dating or sex life, I invite you to look no further than the women of the Hole in the Wall for all the wisdom you need:
There is a fair bit of fuckery going on on the web today, and by "fuckery" I mean discussions about doin' it, specifically about doin' it while feminist. What's that? An opportunity to opine about my personal life on a very public blog? Sign. Me. Up.
But first, the official stuff: over on The Sexist, Amanda Hess interviews super-feminist Jaclyn Friedman, and Jill at Feministe expands on the dilemma of dating while feminist. The issue in question: does being a feminist lady make it harder to date dudes? Is there something about the "Hellcat Dream Girl" (as opposed to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl) that guys love or loathe? I asked my fellow Dolls and a couple of dudes who have had the dubious pleasure of dating this feminist what they think.
All too often, I find myself sitting on a simulated city sidewalk bench, being leered at by men in Cosby sweaters, lamenting my situation as a single lady. There are no men out there!
Which is why I'm glad someone passed on this 1980s-tastic guide to meeting men. Step number one: don't look like a bitch. Men in Cosby sweaters hate that. And remember, it's the men in Cosby sweaters you want! Well, really any man. Because watching Dallas and eating ice cream isn't going to fulfill you forever, now is it?
It's almost not even worth reading, because it brings up every yawn-inducing scare tactic favored by people who can't seem to picture women as anything but relationship-desiring, fragile things which must either be taken care of by Men or Feminism, nuances of being an actual human be damned. It's as if everyone who writes about hook-up culture can't believe that there are a diversity of people, loves and lives out there that make blanket answers to questions raised by shifting relationship standards hard to find. Anyway, here's the big, sad gist:
Every few months, when the man-well dries up, I get it in my head that maybe this time, online dating is the way to go. And it absolutely never, ever is. Because I should and do know better. I like spontaneity and friends-of-friends and making eyes at the seafood counter guy at the grocery store, not walking into a bar knowing the guy I'm about to meet screwed up their/there/they're in one message and how awesome could he really be, then?
But one of my fellow Dolls--whose identity shall remain hidden, so we'll call her "KiSusMerJiTolNi"--has had actual good luck with online dating, specifically OKCupid, and so I always find myself running back into the tepid arms of the OKC. But over the past few weeks, we've both gotten some ridonk messages from dudes that have had us laughing as hard as we were crying.
The King's College London team believe the G-spot may be a figment of women's imagination, encouraged by magazines and sex therapists. But sexologist Beverley Whipple who helped popularise the G-spot idea said the work was "flawed".
She said the researchers had discounted the experiences of lesbian or bisexual women and failed to consider the effects of having different sexual partners with different love-making techniques. The women in the study, who were all pairs of identical and non-identical twins, were asked whether they had a G-spot.
If one did exist, it would be expected that both identical twins, who have the same genes, would report having one. But this pattern did not emerge and the identical twins were no more likely to share a G-spot than non-identical twins who share only half of their genes.
I am so damned tired of hearing about the G-spot, where it is, what it does, or whether or not it exists. The single-minded preoccupation with finding some kind of magic button of female sexuality is incredibly problematic. The G-spot obsession hypes vanilla hetero sex wherein all a woman needs and wants is to be pounded by some dude and his magic dick. Freud even called the clitoral orgasm "infantile." Instead of looking for one thing, can we move the conversation to talking about the many, many things and combinations thereof that get women off?
Myself and a team of ... several ... dedicated and enthusiastic colleagues have spent years doing "research" on this and related subjects, and I haven't found my G-spot. And I couldn't care less about doing so. Whether you have a G-spot or not--and I'm betting many of you ladies do--hand-wringing and worrying about normal/correct/typical sex and sex organs are great examples of ways I am definitely not going to be getting off.
Based on an informal survey of my fellow dolls, this seems to be the consensus:
In three separate trials, the drug flibanserin did wonders for women's flagging sex drive despite doing nothing to lift mood. The accidental discovery is akin to Viagra's - it was originally designed as a heart medicine but failed.
So, you stay depressed but really horny?
Psh. You can keep your fibanserin. I've come up with a few (mostly natural) alternatives to the "female Viagra." And I bet you can add some of your own.
Straight men of the world, is your hetero lady sex partner not giving you the time and attention you need in bed? It could be because you're a bumbling idiot with no idea how to score in the sack. Luckily, Fox's "Sexpert" is here with seven life-changing, brilliant points that explain why women don't want to sleep with you. I know--some women don't want to sleep with you! Crazy, right? Let's get to the root of the problem--specifically, her problem. Because there is clearly nothing wrong with you, sir, you studly man muffin.
Why aren't you getting the sexytime you deserve?
Fox says: She's afraid that "She'll look 'fat' in her lingerie." Their solution? Buy her Spanx.
HD says: Because in no way will buying your sex partner famously fat-controlling underwear make her wonder if you think she is a giant pile of lard. Nope. No way, no how.
Fox says: She's afraid "He'll notice her cellulite or stretch marks." Their solution? Give her compliments outside the bedroom and suggest non-sex activities you can do together.
HD says: Because the only reason you should give your lady compliments is to get her to shut up about her gross stretch-marks. Suck it up, guys, or she's never going to blow you.
Fox says: She's afraid someone's "Response time is going to be off." The solution:
I don't know if posing in Playboy magazine is a feminist act. But I know that telling women what they should and shouldn't do or believe is definitely not feminist. And therefore I am skeptical of Joanna Krupa, who is on some television show or some shit and recently posed for the aforementioned men's magazine. She says that "self-important, so-called feminists" have no business "discriminating a photo shoot."
Photo shoots! I hate when people discriminate them. Especially self-important, so-called feminists, who are always discriminating photo shoots with their ignorant concerns about the male gaze and sexual objectification and the implicit and explicit controlling of female sexuality in terms of male needs.
"I think they suffer from lack of knowledge and tunnel vision. How many of those self-important, so-called 'feminists' have been on the set when a celebrity shot a Playboy spread? There you go. What is feminist about discriminating a photo shoot just because it involves female (partial) nudity that happens to give men pleasure? Pathetic," Krupa told Tarts in an exclusive interview.
I don't know what "Tarts" is, but I hope she was talking to a pastry.
Honestly, this is just one of those times when the jokes, they write themselves:
Is it the ocean's motion? Or the size of the boat? If you live in Alaska, here's hoping you're a bigger fan of the sea itself than the vessels: according to the gay-tastic Manhunt Daily (via College Candy) dudes in the country's largest state have the shortest penises, at an average of 6.34 inches.
Granted, this is based on self-reporting data, so I figure we can shave off some centimeters overall and especially in the big winner city, Washington D.C., where I suspect political-minded ego size might have caused some wrong ruler readings. The capital's average? 7.59 inches. New York and California came in second and third, with my home state of Texas at a barely respectable 15th place and 7.30 inches.
But I have to ask: who really cares? Without revealing too much of my own sexual history, I'll say that I almost never remember a wang. I'll remember it if it's remarkably big or remarkably small, but on the whole, the guys who come in at "average" pretty much run together in my mind. But you can bet I could diagram and narrate, down to the millimeter and nanosecond, almost every aspect of my past partners' skills in the oral department.
Ladies, do you have peen amnesia like me? Is it size or skill that you remember most about your past boys?