This is one of those posts that I write with confidence knowing full well that my dad has yet to discover my blog. When that day comes, I'll imagine his head to toe blush at knowing his daughter is a grown woman who does The Sex and I'll sheepishly wave, "hi dad!" and smile the best I can.
See, not only is my family one of those that acknowledges that many things are natural and normal as long as you don't discuss it, but they're also...wait for it...Mormon. And I really don't want to go into my reasons for leaving church some time ago and if you've been paying attention, you'll realize that I'm a dirty liberal heathen and it all makes sense anyway. Moving on.
Clearly I don't talk about The Sex with my dad. Poor guy. I know he wants to be a grandpa and I know he wants me to get married and pop one out and I know he knows that that involves The Sex, but he also doesn't want to acknowledge that single people have The Sex too. Especially his only daughter. The other day I made a joke (over the phone with him) about making a baby with a turkey baster and the response I got from him was:.....
Yeah. So sex. The Sex. I didn't have The Sex as a teenager like most of my compatriots did, though I was well on my way at 16, when I was assaulted, which I don't talk about much and which scared me off sex for a few years. My First Time was the summer before I turned 20 and I was totally ready, but, let's face it, the first time is always crap. And the guy was a little insane to boot. So for years, I didn't count that as My First. But it was.
Aside: teenage boys, most people will tell you that screwing a virgin is easy because she has nothing to compare it to. I'm here to tell you that she'll know if you're crap in bed no matter how experienced she is.
But I more than made up for that in my early twenties. I had The Sex. I had great sex. I had bad sex. I had sex out of my league. I had pity sex. And, because I was living in Hollywood at the time, I had a fair share of not unattractive guys to choose from. I'm not going to say I was a slut, mostly because I have major issues with that word (but that's a diatribe for another time). But, I was safe and discerning. I was also young and having fun and experimenting with life and learning all the way. And there ain't nothing wrong with that, ladies. Ain't nothing wrong with that.
But even so, life was just not like Sex and the City. I was always amazed watching that show (which I became addicted to back then, watching it with my friend Cassidy in her downtown apartment, drinking cosmos, and imagining we were such savvy city girls) at the sheer volume of sex on that show. I think it is literally impossible to have that much sex. That many men just don't exist in the world. I just don't think so. But shows like that, while they break down the taboos about sex, they also perpetuate this idea that the life of a single woman is a revolving door of men and mind-blowing sex. I mean, C'mon!
Life is just not like that, yo. And it certainly isn't now. My late twenties (barring the time I lived in Europe. because, you know, when in Rome...literally.) were much more mellow sexually. Probably because I moved to a small town and the pool of available attractive men of legal age shrank dramatically, but also I was in some longer-term relationships. And I became much less interested in casual sex. But during the last 5 years or so, the most important part of the sex learning curve has been me. Me. What do I like? What don't I like? What am I willing to be adventurous about and what won't I?
And...oh boy...I'm really going to go there....what about vibrators? Every single girl needs a vibrator. It's how you experiment. How you figure out what you like on your terms, on your own time. Vibrators are like really fun homework for an even more fun practical exam. They make The Sex so much better. I bought my first vibrator at the Hustler store in Hollywood when I was 23. It was pink. And sparkly (because sparkles make such a difference in your pleasure zones, right? *ahem*). And I've been through a couple others since then. They've been good, reliable friends. There for me as long as I have batteries. And, I won't lie, there were times when I thought, if I could magically make this a real penis, life would be perfection. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Am I right, chiquitas? Am I right?
But now? I am vibratorless. It's tragic. Seriously, what's a girl to do? Do I take a risk and buy on the internet? Or make a drive farther than I care to in order to make sure I get something quality and exactly what I want? It's not like I'm shy about these things, but I want good quality for my money and time. Advice and presents are always welcomed.
As I near the end of my twenties, I feel ready for my next sex adventures. I will go where probably lots of other women have gone before. I will have The Sex, and have it better. And I will do things that would give my poor father a heart attack if he knew.
- Chicks who do it for me
- Lose Weight Fast with the Heartbreak Diet!
- Margaritas, Weed, and Slut Signals
- epic existential post just in time for that arbitrary changing of the calendar which I so love
- Public Service Announcement
- Horrifying Shit on Pinterest: Slut Shaming E-Cards
- Animal Monster Bird Squawk Dinosaur Creature
- My Doctors Always Suck, otherwise entitled Why I Hate Kaiser
- Sexy Saturdays: Slutty Saturday
- fishcunts and cum dumpsters