“I’m so into you I do nothing but stare at you when I’m with you and I know you’re talking because I’m soaking up every word but I’m also looking at your mouth, your eyes, your neck, your hair, your ears, your fingers. I am so into you that while I’m doing that staring, I am trying to find some flaw — just one — something that would make you unattractive to me, that would end this insanity I’ve been forced into feeling — and I can’t find anything, except the way your shirt rides up a little in the front so I can see your stomach and the way your hands move like they’d feel amazing on my back and then I’m just mashing my teeth again and trying to seem like nothing’s happening.”
by Gaby Dunn via Thought Catalog
What Women Want: Porn and the Frontier of Female Sexuality
I’m quoted a few times in this fantastic piece by Amanda Hess about James Deen and porn for GOOD Magazine. A bit of behind the scenes and follow up on my interview with him. Great article.
“A man in the back speaks up. ‘We have an informant that has said that you told this woman to come here today, so that you could do an abortion on her.’
‘No, that’s incorrect, ‘[I say,] ‘…She had never had a pregnancy test, or an ultrasound scan. …Because we do not have access to the ultrasound on the weekend, I told her to come back today. …She is pregnant, and the pregnancy is 16 weeks, but because she speaks [another language], I could not tell her. So I brought her to someone in our clinic who speaks [it], and he said he would tell her. I left her there with the ultrasound report, waiting for him. That was the last I saw her.’
The [hospital administrator] spoke up, looking relieved. ‘Now, you see, Doctor has explained. She did an ultrasound. Now we are settled, and we can finish this discussion.’
Everyone speaks at once, but the man in the polo shirt was loudest. ‘No, we cannot finish because she has not shown remorse!’” – ‘No Remorse,’ 5/5/2011
This is an excerpt from the blog of a passionate, young obstetrician named Alice. The blog chronicles the year she spent working at a hospital in an African country where abortion is illegal. She has asked me not to name the exact country and to give her an alias for this interview. She chose “Alice.”
Alice attended medical school and did her residency in New York City, but didn’t have a clear direction until she did three days with each specialty. When she got to “labor and childbirth,” she was so struck that a superior took one look at her beaming face and asked, “You’re going to be an obstetrician, aren’t you?”
“They’re scared of a woman having power.”
“Not all good relationships require monogamy, but they all require … integrity.”
This article was fantastic.
“My heart broke when he told me that the one and only time he told a girlfriend about his fetish [for cakes], she promptly dumped him. Since then he had been too afraid to tell anyone else.” Savage took the young man up to his hotel room and smashed a cake in his face.”
By coincidence this week, both of my 100 Interviews had to do very much with sex.
One, which I posted, was Eitan, someone choosing to remain celibate until marriage and the other, which I have not yet posted, was about Ronen, someone who takes naked pictures of others.
I didn’t ask Eitan this during our interview, because I didn’t think it was something he could answer from lack of experience and I didn’t include it in the original text, because I debated over-sharing in a piece essentially about someone else. This seemed more like a science question for an expert, but I wanted to know if someone who did not touch others ever felt like they were denying basic biology — if they missed something they’d never had.
Let’s back up. When Eitan mentioned the porn star he’d interviewed, Joanna Angel, I nodded and indicated I knew who she was. “She’s covered in tattoos,” I said. “Her boyfriend’s a porn star too. He’s hot.”
My reply got an eyebrow raise from the men in the room and a non-response. I find this reaction common whenever I imply that I know something about the porn industry. So here’s something: I have no problem with porn.
In college, a male friend and I had fun sending each other clips we found interesting, hot or particularly grotesque. He introduced me to the notorious Sasha Grey and by extension, Joanna Angel’s boyfriend, a porn star named James Deen. (He is a gem. Seriously, go check him out.)
I can’t tell if this admission to not being unfamiliar with the porn industry is shocking or not. Mainly, it all stems from a fascination with people. Most of the time, people are guarded. Porn stars put it all out there. There’s something alluring to me about that openness.
Not to philosophize my interest in something so non-philosophical, but I like transparency. I like honesty. I had a reputation among my friends in college for getting a couple drinks in me and then peppering everyone with personal questions to the alternating dismay and delight of the rest of the group. I often judged how much I liked a person based on their reactions to my attention. An “if you can’t handle the heat,” sort of thing. A lot of the time, it led to unexpected friendships or answers I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.
I think sexual preferences are an interesting aspect of someone’s personality and a doorway to understanding what they are like on a deeper level. For a while, I considered each hook up as a science experiment. I was collecting kinks like Pokemon cards. Did you know there are people who get off watching balloons pop? Or people who wear dog collars? Or people who just want to watch? The human race is the most insane.
But if you’re not exploring that part of yourself then can you ever truly know…you?
What I wanted to ask Eitan is this: Sex is an expression of feeling. It’s something you can’t say any other way. When you feel that you “fit” with someone in that way, it’s unexplainable. And it unlocks a part of yourself that you may not even know existed. It can help you figure out who you are and it can help you figure out what you need from someone else. (Something Eitan will perhaps choose to explore exclusively with one person, which I suppose can be done.)
I guess I believe that humans were meant to touch each other. Not even sexually, let’s say, but to hug or to hold hands. We were meant to study each other and to love each other and to express that love to the fullest extent. And yes, some of us were even meant to do it on camera if we so choose. If you aren’t clinically asexual, then I’d imagine you biologically crave being touched, right?
I wonder what good it does to deny oneself that and also, I wonder what harm.
Trey Songz is not here to change the world, just to make you change your panties.
10. Unless the neighbors know your name, you are doing it wrong.
As my friend and fellow comic Josh Gondelman points out, perhaps before moving in, hip hop prodigy Trey Songz should have knocked on his neighbor’s doors and introduced himself. “Hi, my name is Trey and I’ve been required by the laws of smooth R&B to inform you that my love-making is what some would classify as ‘chandelier-shakin’ loud.’ Thank you for your time.” Do the neighbors only know your name because they got your mail for you that time you went to a conference in Tucson? That is what we call “a mistake.” (‘Neighbors Know My Name’)
9. The way to be a good girlfriend is to go to the strip club with your boyfriend.
If your man is heading to the strip club, the best possible way to ensure he doesn’t cheat on you with a stripper is obviously to come along. Consider it “date night.” The couple that stuffs dollar bills down a lady named Bambi’s thong together, stays together. After Badda-Bings, you and yours can head home and re-enact what you saw up on that pole Wendy Williams told you would be fun to install in your marital bedroom. What a fun, sexy time for you both. (‘Already Taken’)
8. Your body is a problem but it can be solved by the right man.
If you’re like every other woman, you frequently walk around looking hot only to suddenly stop and sigh with frustration, “Golly, my body is such a problem.” Fear no more, ladies. All you need is a man who can solve a problem better than Maria and the ‘Extreme Makeover’ crew combined. Consider your torso a complicated math problem (Let’s say: Vagina+Boobs^2-Peen/Chest Hair = SeXXXy). Now consider Trey the Albert Einstein of pussy. You’ve basically got it down. (‘Neighbors Know My Name’) Sidenote: It’s preferable if this problematic body is shaped like “a Coke bottle.” Your guess is as good as mine.
7. If you’re trying to stop cheating on your lover, one last go around is totally okay.
Say you’re a sexy hotel receptionist who fucks an equally sexy R&B sensation who comes through every few months on tour. You’re at work looking forward to some downlow getdown, when he rolls up with his day-time lover. You best play it cool faster than you can say, “AW HELL NAW.” Not one to be burned, you slip him a note with his room key asking for one last tumble. Self-respect be damned! You work in a hotel and he performs with Lil Wayne. Get your priorities in order and spread ‘em, girlfriend. (‘Last Time’)
6. Don’t have sex with your friends!
An oldie, but a goodie in the relationship advice world. Trey laments his inability to be friends with his ex by singing, “I wish we never did it and I wish we never loved it.” Those seem like two different wishes. Does he wish they did it but hated it? That seems rape-y. Does he wish they’d loved it but never did it? Impossible. In this case, syntax is key. In fact, saying “syntax is key” is one way to make sure your friends never want to have sex with you. Case closed. (‘Can’t Be Friends’)
5. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta drop your panties and hope for the best.
All a fella needs is one good song, the right song, to make sure a woman wants to release herself from her underwear. The technical term is “a panty droppa,” though it can also be known as a “baby maker” - though that implies responsibility beyond the dropping of the panties that I’m not sure a minute-thirty slow jam can make a woman commit to. I get that it’s a panty droppin’ love song (greatest oxymoron ever?) but let’s wrap it up and keep babies out of this equation, shall we? (‘Panty Droppa’)
4. Don’t be a tease if you’re not gonna ride.
If you meet a woman during the day, let’s say you approach her at a clothing store, it is then completely acceptable to drop lines like, “Grip them legs back, call me pliers” and “your body is my home, let me come inside” on the first date. Preferably before you even get inside the hotel, where all first dates inevitably end. Listen, it’s not Trey’s fault you were buying those sexy $10 gold lame, scrunched up T-shirts from RAVE Girl. If you’re gonna dress like you’re down to roam the mall texting on your T-Mobile Sidekick, you’re gonna get treated as such. (‘Wonder Woman’)
3. A good sext (sexy text) is an art form.
No need to be a wordsmith when it comes to the art of sexting. Sometimes a picture and an emoticon speak louder than any misspelled words for vagina. Simply include an “LOL :)” as the subject of every dirty text message to show you’re playful about your shadow-y nipples. You’re not some kind of psycho that Twitters pictures of her clit ring to just anyone after all. “LOL :). I never wanted to run for public office anyway.” (‘LOL :)’)
2. Drinking alcohol is the linchpin of any good sexual encounter.
None of that “ordering individual drinks” bullshit. Trey orders by the bottle. None of that “taking sips” fuckery either. Trey pours the whole thing down your throat at once. Now get up on that table and dance. After all, Trey is your doctor and he is prescribing nothing but cranberry and vodkas for a disease known colloquially as “DTF.” Bottom’s up, ladies. It’s your bottom that’s up next. (‘Say Aah’ & ‘Bottom’s Up’)
1. He invented sex. Bow down, mortals.
Not sure what else needs to be said here. The man makes the most definitive claim in the history of sticking it in and moving it around; he invented sex. Trey’s controversial prototype of lady-on-top-while-Usher-plays has floated around the world of sex since Biblical times. The man is immortal, due to his mainly “Magnum Lifestyle” of making condom puns. Women love condom puns. (‘I Invented Sex’)
Name: Sara Faith Alterman
Age: 30
Hometown: Boston girl living in San Francisco
Q. Where did the idea for Virgin Ears come from?
A. Virgin Ears is a collection of stories about the songs people associate with early physical experiences, from first slow dances to first kisses to first sex. I’ve felt an intense connection to music since I was a child. Both of my parents are musicians, my brother is a musician, I started studying piano when I was 3 and voice when I was 14 — music has always been a huge part of my life, which is why I think that I have so many strong memories that are somehow related to particular songs.
My own story about how I lost my virginity is one of my favorite stories in general to tell, because the punchline involves a Metallica song, and who doesn’t love a good James Hetfield reference? The last time I told it in a group, I started thinking about other songs that evoke strong memories for me, and I realized that I have kind of a soundtrack in my brain for many of those pivotal first moments. I started asking around to see if this was unique to me and, as it turns out, most of my friends had hilarious and heartwarming stories about the musical backdrops to their own first times. I wanted to build a community for others to share their stories.
Q. Where do most of your submissions come from? Can anyone contribute?
A. I’m always looking for contributions! I get a lot of emails from people that say things like, “I have a funny story, but I’m a terrible writer. Can I still send you my story?” The answer is YES. I’m not trying to win some kind of pretentious journalism award, here. Send me bullet points, send me a video or audio recording of you telling your story, send me a comic book. The world wants to laugh with you about the time you made out on the Nordic Track in your parents’ basement while listening to Creed. Readers will be too busy peeing their pants to notice that you’re not Jonathan Franzen. Of course, Jonathan Franzen, if you want to contribute a story, then I might have elevated expectations for you.
I’ve posted a few stories of my own and a few stories from friends, but I do get a lot of submissions from random readers. I tried posting a call for submissions on Craigs List, but apparently any “adult” content is a big no-no for them now. Which is ridiculous. The whole point of Virgin Ears is to create a destination for sex-positive content. I’m not trying to lure information from people so that I can exploit them. (Sorry, Craigs List. I do appreciate your apartment listings.)
What’s important for would-be contributors to remember is that I understand that some people are shy. Just because I’m comfortable heralding every random and gratuitous detail about my personal life (sorry Mom) doesn’t mean that you have to be. Contributors are welcome to be identified however they want to be, whether that means by first name only, or even completely anonymously. Or hell, if you want first and last name and a link to your website, that’s fine too.
Q. Losing your virginity can be a personal and embarrassing topic to share, especially in writing and especially on the Internet. Did you have any qualms or have any writers you’ve approached had qualms? Or is that part of the appeal of writing about virginity?
A. Again, I try to be as supportive of and discreet about my contributors as possible. I’ve sort of built my career on sharing personal details about myself, but I am hyper-aware about protecting the privacy of others. I never use real names, and I’ve historically gotten the permission of people I write about, which includes sending awkward “Hey, um, do you mind if I?…” e-mails to ex-boyfriends. If sharing your own story on Virgin Ears seems compelling, but you’re afraid that someone you know will read it and have a massive freak out, you can contribute anonymously.
Q. How important, in your opinion, is good music to a good first time?
A. I remember feeling much more comfortable with the whole, “Holy shit, I’m about to DO IT!” feeling because we were listening to music that I loved. I think most people will agree that great music has the ability to make you feel happy and powerful and motivated to do amazing things. Who doesn’t want to feel that way when they make out or have sex, particularly for the first time?
Q. What’s the worst song you can think of for a person to lose their virginity to?
A. Right off the bat, I’d say anything by the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies. For the most part, though, I suppose the musical choices depends on the people, and on the situation. For me, listening to old school Metallica made perfect sense. For people not into metal hair and sweet guitar riffs and songs about the failures of Christian Science, that’s probably not going to create special memories. In general, you want to pick music that makes you feel good, and that won’t ever become a karaoke standard. And won’t make you want to beat your head against the wall five years later. Right after the movie Titanic came out, I was asked to sing “My Heart Will Go On” at a friend’s wedding, for her first dance. I talked her out of it. I’d like to think that she has a better marriage because of it.
Q. What’s the best song you’ve heard someone else (or you yourself) has had as a sexual soundtrack?
A. Just today, I posted a story about a guy who lost his virginity in a car while listening to a techo remix of the Speed Racer theme song. Just based on irony alone, it’s thus far my favorite. It made me want to build a time machine and do the whole thing over again. Not with him. But while listening to that song.
Q. As a writer, do you find what you’re listening to influences what you’re writing about or how inspired you are?
A. Choosing music to work to is like choosing music to have sex to; you have to ask yourself if you want something relaxing and sensual, or if you just want to power through while you’re bobbing your head up and down. I’m sort of a “method” writer, in the way that some actors are “method” actors; when I’m working on a piece, I like to actually experience relevant emotions. If I’m writing about something poignant or nostalgic, I’ll listen to artists like Imogen Heap or The Decemberists or Camera Obscura, whose songs help me get into a particular mind frame. If I’m writing a humor piece, I like to listen to more upbeat and playful music, usually pop. A few years ago, I wrote a piece for The Boston Phoenix about up and coming opera singers, and I must have listened to the Queen of the Night’s aria from The Magic Flute about a hundred times.
And, frankly, nothing wrong with a little Lady Gaga when you’re trying to meet a deadline. It’s helpful to be able to tell myself, “That hot and crazy beast managed to pull off a dress made out of meat. All you have to do is write 300 words in the next 20 minutes.” It’s a nice motivator.
Check out VirginEars.com and follow SFA on twitter here.
You guys, I’m really, really mad right now so I hope this comes out even halfway coherent because I’m trying very hard to formulate what about this is making me so immediately angry.
There’s this article in the NY Post about a group of women choosing to be celibate. The catch is I found the article through the Facebook page of a girl I don’t know personally but who I have mutual friends with. She’s one of the women profiled in the article and has been promoting her story on Facebook — and to other media outlets and basically getting a heap of attention for her decision not to let randos (or anyone, I guess) touch her lady business anymore.
Again, I don’t know the girl personally and I considered reaching out to her before writing this, but I wanted to get my feelings out based solely on what I’ve seen in print — because that’s what was provided to readers at large. I’d absolutely love to discuss this further with her after I verbal-vomit what I need to here.
Okay.
I’m angry because under the guise of female empowerment, these women have really only further reduced our gender to our vaginas — how we’re using them and how we’re not using them.
It’s like all we have to offer is what’s between our legs and the only thing of interest about any of us is how many people we do or don’t let penetrate that hole. One of the women is even a former beauty queen who gets patted on the back for not becoming a hooker.
Here’s the thing. A hooker is someone who profits off sex for money, right? And these women have sold their vaginas (and the deeply personal decision not to use them, which should not matter to anyone) as their greatest commodity to a sensationalizing media for even more unnecessary sensational publicity.
I wonder if it’s weird to be celibate when you’re whoring yourself out so hard?
It doesn’t help that every woman profiled in the article is really pretty. It’s like the Post is goading us to say, WAIT. A conventionally good-looking person has decided not to have sex?! TELL ME MORE. But I don’t understand!!!!! They are pretty!!!! Don’t you see?! Look at the glamour shots along with the article!!! How can these pretty women not be having sex?!?!?!?! Because look at them, they totally could be! It’s insanity! It’s madness! STOP THE PRESSES. HOLD MY CALLS, JANET. WE HAVE SOME PRETTY LADIES WHO REFUSE TO FUCK!
Look, I gave up soda three years ago. Sometimes I work long hours and could really use a Pepsi. Where’s my article, NY Post????
I also deeply abhor the implication that men are an enemy who only want sex from us and a distraction we have to rise above in order to break through the glass ceiling and reach our full potential as women. Sex isn’t something women like or enjoy or need in life. Sex isn’t something a woman can do in moderation — you’re either the chaste virgin or a raging slut who just can’t help herself. Sex isn’t something that can be equal for both parties. Sex is something men take from us and we’re just so much better than them that we happen to either a) lay back and acquiesce their silly penis or b) throw ourselves into it in the hopes that they’ll propose to us one day and make us truly complete.
Basically, I find the way this article was written and the way it portrayed these women’s thought processes (which I can only guess they find accurate since there hasn’t been a correction run and one is promoting the idea all over the ‘book) to be — rather than empowering — actually degrading to women and everything we have to offer. It just makes us seem so vapid and useless in a world that already finds us vapid and useless.
Obviously, a woman can’t be both productive and sexually active — in order to accomplish anything you must be chaste or else you’ll spend all your time twirling your hair at the dude across from you on the F train wondering if he’ll put a ring on it if you let him do anal.
If you choose not to have sex, it’s a decision you’ve made in your life and I hope it works out well for you. Just don’t try to sell it to me like it’s a boon for ladies everywhere to be celibate and DON’T try to profit off of it. Don’t try to equate it with gender and don’t feed so willingly into a salacious media that cares way too much about what’s been inside of you lately.
Then, you’ll have truly given up getting fucked.
