“What about your first boyfriend?”

My first boyfriend was someone I dated for literally a week, also when I was 18. We didn’t have sex. I wanted him to go down on me once, but he was also very young and wasn’t comfortable with doing that yet. I ended up scaring him off before anything could happen. Definitely wasn’t him either.

“Well there’s no way you could’ve got it from me.”

I implored him to look at the statistics. My ex was a borderline nymphomaniac. He was extremely sexually active, having had sex with almost thirty people before he dated me. He would have unprotected sex with both men and women, and even persuaded me into letting him not wear a condom. He persuaded me into a lot of things, actually.

Dejected, my ex angrily hung up the phone. I got back in the car and told my friends what happened. “I never liked him anyway,” said one of them.

There was no way it couldn’t have been him. A few months after we started dating he cheated on me.

Finally, he decided to get tested. I knew and he knew that there is no HPV test for men, but he insisted anyway. No surprise, the next day he told me he was clean. He insisted that his doctor said he didn’t have it, and continued to gaslight me.

It took me a long time to stop talking to him. Still vulnerable, when I came back to the state he lived in, we immediately had sex. I insisted on him wearing a condom if he “didn’t have” HPV, but he still didn’t. This time he gave me bedbugs. At this point I decided it was time to cut him off.

After a year the HPV cleared up. I went to a new gyno and they called me a few days after my appointment, telling me the news. I was so relieved. I was excited at the prospect of being able to have sex without prefacing every act with “I have HPV”. As common as it was, it was annoying and difficult to live with, and being constantly invalidated by the guy who gave it to me just added to my fear. Gaslighting in sexual situations is a very real thing.

Before having sex with a partner, be sure to get tested immediately. And if they cheat on you, get tested again. A partner in denial is them refusing to admit their own mistakes, and it can make it seem like you are at fault for your misfortune. Stay safe. And, perhaps more importantly, stay strong.

How does the Daddy/Baby relationship emotionally correlate to a real life relationship with a father/parent? Does it affect change the way you view you those real life relationships?

For me, it honestly has no effect on the relationship I have with my father or any older, male relatives

As a modern woman, how do you feel in a submissive role? How do those roles coexist?

I have found that ‘alphas’, regardless of gender, tend to swing slightly submissive when behind closed doors. People outside of this world seem to have a difficult time comprehending that it is a game; he is not just some asshole, abusive boyfriend. Also, as a feminist and modern woman, I will absolutely exercise my right to work hard, have a successful ‘normal’ career AND indulge my sexual fetishes and fantasies. I usually question how a person can exist without some kind of dichotomy.

A lot of times these men offer money in terms or paying for things you might need – is that always the case? If it is, is that just the icing on top or the driving force for you to pursue these relationships?

There can be a gift exchange element in these relationships. There are tons of ads on Craigslist (let’s not act like we’ve NEVER looked through the ‘gig’ section when we were over going into the office or waking up hungover to work a horrendous brunch shift), and men are advertising payment for a ’sub’ or ’Sugar baby’. There are a handful of websites dedicated to connecting Sugar daddies with Sugar babies and those relationships almost always guarantee a gift exchange, but they are not necessarily Daddy/baby or Master/sub type of relationships unless you specifically express that in your profile.

My first experience involved no gift exchange of any kind, it was pure pleasure.

The second Master I had was a man with whom I have never had any sexual contact and there has been no gift exchange, it was all mental and emotional.

However, my third (and current) Daddy relationship does contain a gift exchange element (which includes a monthly allowance and additional gifts as I need them) and that is definitely an added bonus.

Sexual activity is on the rise, but physical connection is practically nonexistent. Another single girlfriend of mine put it best when she said “These days men don’t have sex with you, they have sex AT you.” We are teaching children that this is how “adults” have sex, like animals. A blowjob has become as innocuous as a first kiss. Could violent porn be the impetus of the rape culture we are currently living in? It’s ok to abuse women in porn, so is it ok to abuse them in real life? If you were a young boy growing up watching this kind of violence wouldn’t you be influenced? Would you grow up to be Brock Turner? I’m not saying watching porn makes you a rapist, but viewing women being disrespected on a daily basis is certainly not going to make you respect women. When your average college athlete sees a woman passed out by a dumpster and the instinct is not to call for help but license to sexually assault, we have a problem.

88% of porn scenes now include physical aggression towards women and female sexual subservience. Porn has gone from “making love” with a dreamy man in some palatial vacation setting to one woman being slapped in the face by 15 different penises in a studio apartment. It’s out of control and nobody is doing anything about it.

How do we stop it? This is America; we can’t ban porn, but can we regulate it? It is going to take a significant amount of effort from women, who are basically responsible for any changes in society with regard to women. Check out http://www.endslaverynow.org/act/action-library/stop-watching-violent-porn

Ask the men in your life to help spearhead the movement against violent porn. We have been conditioned to view this as “just porn” but it’s much worse than that. It is having a direct effect on society and our children. Lack of intimacy is prevalent nationwide. People are fornicating but aren’t connecting. In every major city in the country there is an epidemic of single women struggling to find love off Tinder. If we don’t change the way we view sex in modern society, it is going to make out for a pretty sad and lonely future for our children.

My husband and I have very different tastes in porn, which is why we don’t watch it together as a way to get ourselves revved up. We have tried actually to see if it did the trick, but in the end I found his a bit boring and he kept saying “ow…ow” while watching mine, so we just ended up watching Netflix and falling asleep. I’m of the firm belief that it’s healthy for your male counterpart to masturbate and him watching porn does not bother me in the least. If he didn’t I would think that was weird! We have a friendly banter about it where we both laugh and it’s never been an issue.

I’m sure I’m not alone in this, being a woman who is turned on visually by things she would not necessarily be into in the flesh, but I wonder what that is. Is it that the thing I like looks a little too scary or adventurous, and on some occasions, painful? Or is it the difference between making love and simply f**king? Perhaps it’s the fear that my husband would be SO into it we would never have sex the way we used to?

Who knows? For now I’m just going to keep this little occasional treat for myself, and maybe one day test out that that last theory.

A major component in many instances of this imbalance in sexual desire is media portrayal of sex. TV and film displays sex as very glamourous, appearing to happen smoothly and without any sort of awkwardness. The fact is, sex is naturally awkward. It’s weird and uncomfortable at times, especially when first becoming adjusted to a new partner. Shows like Sex and the City demonstrate this low level of realism, as most of the time the characters have perfect sex without any sort of discomfort.

More so than mainstream media, porn also dictates many people’s sexual fantasies. A lot of the time the sex portrayed is is highly unrealistic. Porn, as with all film, requires professionals to properly perform what is the most appealing to the viewer. Not to mention the amount of takes that the performers are granted. What a lot of people fail to understand as a result is that sometimes you’re in the bedroom and simply can’t accomplish a sex act. This could be for a number of reasons- positions may not be comfortable, size may not match up, or you may just not be turned on enough. And if this does happen, it is absolutely okay.

Sexual fantasies may differ between you and your partner. In fact, it may be overwhelming to discover exactly what your partner is into, whether it’s a fetish or a position or a desire to interact with another person. Take for instance the act of anal sex. A friend of mine once experimented with anal sex with her boyfriend. She initially wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but after months of persuasion she attempted it.

So the guy comes over and, of course, like most people on Tinder, he doesn’t really look like his pictures. I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that maybe they were from a few years ago? Or maybe Photoshop is also something he does professionally? Either way, I can get past appearances because he wasn’t in terrible shape. What I can’t get past is that this guy turned out to be somewhat of a doofus. He also blurted out some language that lead me to think he might be a little racist. I can’t remember the exact wording he used, but, I do remember at the very least he definitely said something about “the Mexicans” in a less-than-flattering tone. He asked where I worked and when I told him he said, “oh I go there all the time!” He then began to talk about one of my best friends who works with me. I said, “Oh, she’s one of my best friends.” A response which was met by him with chatter about what a bitch she is. Not a great idea in social situations, to talk shit about the best friend of someone you just met. So far this guy was 0 for 3. But here’s the thing, he was there for one very specific reason: to give me a Tantric massage, something I’ve wanted my entire sexual life! So when he excused himself to go to the restroom my partner gave me the classic, “we should make him leave, right?” look. I felt really awkward in that moment. It’s one thing to say, “well, we should be going,” but it’s another to say, “well, YOU should be going.” For some reason there’s extra confrontation in that statement. Plus, I really wanted this tantric massage! I felt like sitting through a terrible conversation meant that I was owed at least that. So I said to my partner, “I want this fucking massage, otherwise we let this guy in here for nothing.”

Once he emerged from the bathroom we proceeded into the bedroom where there was a towel laid out on the bed, as per his request. I stripped down and my partner sat down in a chair to watch what we both thought would be pure magic. I was so ready to get this tantric massage! What I got instead was, well…I don’t quite know what to call it.

My head was at the end of the bed allowing him to stand over me with his baggy gym shorts and began the “massage.” It might have been the worst “massage” I’ve ever received, not just because his balls were continually lopping against the back of my head, but because he was touching me almost the same way a blind person touches someone’s face to find out what they look like, only much less gently. Moments later, he progressed to straight up poking different parts of my back with a few fingers at once. At this point all I could think to myself was, “shit what do I do to make this stop?!” If he was this bad at regular massage, there’s no way he could be any good at Tantric massage.

He proceeded to retrieve some “massage oil” from his backpack. This impressive accessory was actually just some essential oil from Whole Foods. I think it was lilac, or lavender, one of those “L” oils. He put a healthy dose on his hands and proceeded straight into my vagina. He fingered it roughly as though we hit the skip button on a bad porn and went from the beginning straight to the part where they’re trying to make the girl squirt. Though I’ve never had one before, something told me…THIS WAS NOT A TANTRIC MASSAGE!!! This wasn’t even good fingering.

In the 4th year after his death, I stopped feeling like I was going to throw up every time I saw a person of the male sex looking my way. Slowly, I began to open up to the concept of someone else. Then, I had my first kiss, and it’s awesomeness woke up everything inside of me. All the parts that had been fast asleep for almost half a decade, now wanted to come out and play again. I started dating, got into a short-lived relationship with someone, and a couple of weeks before the 5 year mark of my husband’s death, I finally lost my widow virginity. The widowed mind is a curious thing, and 5 years with absolutely no intimacy will eventually make a person a bit loopy. Some strange, deep, and often hilarious thoughts were going through my brain, right smack in the middle of experiencing my first time after the last time. Here are just a few of those thoughts, in no particular order:

“OH SHIT!!! I think I forgot how to do this …. oh, wait …. Never mind. NOW I remember …. ” 

It really is like people say all the time: “It’s like riding a bicycle.” Except, not at all. Instead of a bike, there’s a person there, and I suppose there is or could be riding involved. But there are no wheels or spokes or handlebars in sex, unless you’re into that sort of kinky thing. Look, the point is, there are rhythms when it comes to things like kissing and grinding and moving and everything else that is involved in the dance of sex. When you haven’t done it in a very long time, and when the last time you did it, it was with your husband, whom you had been ‘dancing with’ for several years, you start to think that maybe you won’t remember how to do this weird dance with someone new. Maybe you will forget what comes next. Maybe you won’t be able to … oh, wait. Is that my shirt coming off? And my bra? Is that me moaning like that? Oh okay. I remember this now. It’s all coming back to me ….

“Stop judging me, CAT!” 

Right in the middle of the beginning of the action, which started in my living room, and then quickly moved through the apartment and into my bedroom – my damn cat was just sitting there, on the corner of my bed. Staring at me. I found it extremely ironic and hilarious, that I was being stared at by my pussy, while someone was licking my pussy. It was also incredibly distracting, because the damn cat was right inside my line of vision, so I literally couldn’t look away. And he was judging me. He was sizing me up, and he had decided that he was disappointed in me. He didn’t care for the way I was writhing around, and I didn’t care for the way he was staring at me. All of this is going through my head, and at the exact same moment, I am somehow feeling intense pleasure.