Archives for category: Sex

The dis-accord and general lack of unity among you is ridiculous and reprehensible.

Instead of a group of minorities coming together to take a proud stand for the right to exist in the face of a ridiculously overwhelming majority, you throw around threats, demands, and indignation.

The worst of all is that the systems and precepts which you so adamantly defend, the injustices which you decry, are based in flawed and contrived ideas.

“Gender” is an unnecessary abstraction the nature of which will only produce controversy and discrimination.

“Gender” spawned from “sex,” a binary designation of the physical description of the external appearance of an individual’s genitals.

The “sex” designation came about because it is one of the most important things to a species who relies on sexual reproduction to propagate itself.

Unfortunately, given the amount of data there is on reproduction, a binary and especially visual definition is outdated, inaccurate, and undescriptive.  Right now “sex” is about as useful as offering two options for “race.”

Therefore, the foundation on which “gender” was built is shaky, unstable, unsafe, and condemnable. Given such conditions it should not be in use at all. Instead of fighting for the right to express one or the other, it should be deprecated completely.

Switching gears, the DLD is a bureaucratic entity designed to discourage irresponsible driving and lower automobile-related fatalities by creating a “barrier” to entry in the form of fees, tests, and fines. This is the only reason it exists.

Do you really think that your reproductive responsibility is a factor in driving an automobile or participating in the task of overcoming the contrived entry barrier?  It’s about as important as race to a system of fees and fines.  The entity only cares about a capacity to pay and ability to regurgitate information.

You shouldn’t be fighting for the right to put “F” or “M” on your license as you please, you should be fighting to have the designation removed completely.

You shouldn’t be fighting for an “F” or “M” at all. You should be fighting to update “sex” to a more accurate description.

The focus of your energy is misplaced. It’s like arguing over how much gas to put in a car when the vehicle should use an alternative energy source in the first place.

Superman Needs Counseling?

Americans consume a massive amount of media from an early age, spending more time consuming television, movies, games, and social media than they do with parents or members of an immediate community.

The main characters featured in any such media are often dynsfunctional and their irrational behavior is the cause of or at minimum exacerbates critical elements that further the plot of the story.

As a normal human develops, the brain automatically applies patterns and categories to the external world. The aforementioned characters become role models.

Having a dysfunctional role model severely hinders a healthy way of thinking and viewing the world.

Women in Games

I like video games. I’m not very good at them but I like them. To me it’s like reading an interactive book: I visit distant places, see and do things I’d never be able to experience in real life.

One such game for me was Mass Effect 2. The artwork is immersive and the story compelling. It was like combining a movie with an over-the-shoulder shooter. There is action, intrigue, betrayal, sacrifice, and more mouse-trigger shooting than one person can handle.

Even better, I was able to play a female in this game. Normally it’s very difficult for me to “connect” to a male main character. I just don’t empathize or understand and I feel alienated at some point. My attention rapidly turns to some other, more enjoyable activity.

A female Shepherd, however, I can bond with, I can understand and easily choose a course of action. It just makes more sense to me.

Even better, we don’t get many women role models– in games or life– who are as tough as Commander Shepherd. To be able to see a woman doing the things she does is almost liberating.

Yes, yes, I know, the feminist movement is beating a dead horse in western countries, and more than lauded and publicized it’s simply something to be noted.

More Human Than Human

I had just come back from a trip to visit my family in California, not as refreshed or rested as I would have liked but happy to have at least a little break, and had jumped back into Mass Effect 2 when it occurred to me that Commander Shepherd, my empowered, emasculating heroine of Normandy, is completely dynsfunctional and in no way is someone to be praised, lauded, or recognized.

Yeah, yeah, she is just a bunch of pixels and programs, but what was so compelling about her was that she was almost human, almost real to me. Like the characters in a book in which I immerse myself, she had taken on a life of her own. At some point I realized it wasn’t me choosing what she’d say but gently directing my opinion on things she’d eventually do by herself.

Being so real, the amateur psychologist in me sets about to work just as it does with any relationship I get into (that’s probably OCD of me– never said I was immune!).

Commander Shepherd is Still a Jerk

That pretty much sums it up.

Workaholic

This woman never sleeps. When she’s not making decisions at the Galaxy Map she’s overseeing the mining of resources, resolving issues with her crew, in planning meetings with management about the entrance into Omega Four, or researching any number of upgrades to make to the ship.

Relationships? Forget about it. The closest she comes is casual sex with Jacob or a one-night-stand with her assitant, Kelly. The rest seem to be spontaneous and short-lived romances she neglects and is even sometimes reprimanded for.

Antisocial Behavior

You thought Jack was bad (she is bad but she’s not the main character), check out this list of antisocial traits and see if Ms. Shepherd doesn’t fit right in:

  • Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. She often engages in behavior that is regarded as “renegade” which often espouses the use of violence or extortion.
  • Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. She never backs down.
  • Reckless disregard for safety of self or others. How often does she run guns blazing into a situation where she and her crew are completely outnumbered and outgunned?
  • Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another. She has no problems doing whatever it takes to get her job done.

Promiscuity

It must be that she’s a workaholic that it’s hard for her to create relationships beyond casual sex. Is she even using protection?  It’s not even just casual: she manages to cross the interspecies and homosexual boundaries, as well.  We fire politicians for this all the time and here, in the military, sex runs rampant and unchecked throughout the ranks.

No PTSD?

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is undeniably a huge problem for those coming home from war. It ruins lives, families, and takes a huge toll on society and the afflicted person’s position therein.

Commander Shepherd, however, despite the trauma of dying, losing her crew, destroying property, plastic surgery, killing thousands of enemies, cataclysm, and endless loss, she manages to stay chipper and even keeps alcohol comsumption to a recreational level.

How does she do this? She’s a heartless fucking bitch, that’s how. See above.


I’ve always thought it would be cool to meet someone online.  If finding someone you’re compatible with comes with repeated exposure to multiple people, i.e. chances are you won’t meet Mr/Mrs Perfect on your first date, then the more you date, the closer you get to finding that someone.

What better place for this to happen than the Internet.  Dating sites could potentially encompass a dating pool of eligible people that extends world-wide.  Hungarians hooking up with Norwegians, Russians hooking up with Africans, Koreans hooking up with Indians … a literal genetic melting-pot.  How cool is that?

Well, too cool to be true, apparently, and our innate and pre-programmed cultural and biological biases screw up the potential usefulness of such a thing.

Basically, if we reeeeeeeally look at the situation, the chances of the man of my dreams contacting me through a dating site are only slightly better than they were without.  Meh.  Since one is greater than zero and it’s not much effort to put these things together, not to mention how much fun it could be to see so many different life situations, I wrote up what I think will be a very effective profile.

I’ll leave it up to you, the reader, to interpret just how much “tongue-in-cheek” is involved.

I’M PROBABLY NOT THE GIRL YOU’RE LOOKING FOR

Hi, there! Thanks for viewing my ad.

Yup, as the title reads, I’m probably not the girl that you’re looking for.

Even casual statistics show us that men I would consider eligible are obeying their instincts to “sew their seeds” and seek out that buxom, barely-legal blonde with 257 Facebook friends.

This means the majority of people who could potentially view my profile, i.e. what you, the reader, are doing now, only got here because they were attracted to various aspects of the way I shot the photo in my thumbnail.

If you still don’t believe me and have made it this far, let me then tell you a bit about myself starting with a few key lifestyle “facts” which I have noticed about myself.

A. I don’t watch TV.

I’ve got nothing against the TV, I just choose not to watch it. The reason is because of all of the previews for television shows that I’ve watched, none of the previews have presented any context that I would potentially find helpful. No, not even on the Discovery Channel.

B. I’m sort of a geek and sort of not.

To me, the computer is a tool. I use it for documenting, archiving, idea generation, and communication. I don’t live in it/on it/virtually/physically, etc.

Luckily for me Blizzard has screwed up WoW to the point that now it’s only fun for about 20 minutes. I can stand Second Life for less than that. I’m not in any chat room, I don’t post on forums, I don’t access IM when I’m not at my desk at work. I don’t post on forums, I don’t watch any threads. I don’t watch re-runs of Stargate, I can’t differentiate between all the Star Trek seasons, let alone uniforms, I do not worship Joss Wheden.

At this point, I’m starting to sound like the female version of Dennis Leary and– though I’d be honored– I’m definitely not even close. I only complain for about 20-minutes or so and move on.

Anyway, if I haven’t lost ya by now for only even the sheer amount of text (TLDR), bless your heart for skimming.

I probably should have said this at the beginning but I wanted to shake out the macho-types who can’t read before dropping this little nugget of C4:

C. I am intelligent. I don’t get along well with the macho type.

Yep, sorry, I love the attention from a guy flirting with me as much as the next person, but I’m not going to play dumb anymore just so I don’t make the other feel upset.

I know what I’m talking about, I know my shit, I’ve lived a well-rounded life, I’ve played all the games, I’m confident, I’m assured, I’m educated, I have a good vocabulary, I am smart, yes, sorry.

No, it’s not like I’m Einstein or anything, but I know way more than most women my age and I’m not afraid to exercise it.

Don’t worry, it’s not like I will give you an SAT or something; if you know how to spell, graduated from high school, and get along well with the public, you pretty much won’t get anything but praise and affection from me.

Speaking of which,

D. I’m affectionate. When I love someone I want to be with them ALL THE TIME.

Let’s put it this way, I won’t call you seven times a day like other girlfriends will, but I will probably call you two or three and yes, one of them is probably emotionally loaded, but at least it’s just one– I’m a big girl and can control myself when little things happen.

I won’t make you turn off football but I will climb all over you and attempt to distract you the entire time. If you’re nearby I most likely have to be touching you in some way or another.

I won’t listen to you complain all night about aspects of your work that you’re too lazy to change, but I will listen for about 30 minutes or so before gently steering you in a more positive direction.

Since we’re on the subject, I might as well say, I’ll listen to positive plans that you’re too lazy to act on for about the same amount of time before pushing you to make and fulfill shorter-term and more realistic and measurable goals.

To expand a little more on the laziness thing,

E. I’m not your mother.

I’m not going to babysit you, I’m not going to comfort you when you stub your toe for the 10th time on the box you’re too lazy to move out of the way, I’m not going to fan your ego, I’m not going to make sure you eat your vegetables and take your medicine.

I do, however, understand you’re busy and will gladly help shuffle a hectic schedule to be more balanced, I will be there in your darkest hour giving you a shoulder massage, and will support you in any honorable task you undertake.

Since all that is more than even I, myself, would want to read, I’ll leave it that and suffice it to say there’s a lot more where that came from.

Quick reality check! Ask yourself what were your gut feelings about my profile and feed the answer into my magical switch/case statement:

switch(viewer.getEmotion().getCurrentState()) {
   case “laughing and saying, I gotta meet this chick”:
      pleaseEmailMe();
   default:
      gotoNextProfile();
}

(References: http://blog.okcupid.com/index.php/2010/02/16/the-case-for-an-older-woman/)

Something’s bugging me. Not bugged in the “annoyed” sense. More like bugged in something won’t leave me alone.

So I’ll ask the question that I muttered out loud to myself while pouring iced tea that prompted this entry:

How do I tell my boss’ friend’s wife that I love the way her ankles and feet look in the jeans and sandals that she’s wearing?

Now, before you jump to any conclusions, and I realize this entry comes after one where I admittedly felt joy at the relationship of two women, let’s get it straight that I like guys as much as the next girl.

Actually, technically, to be frank and honest, and I don’t think I’ve ever publicly written this, but I’m a self-discovered, confessed, and practiced bi-sexual. I don’t much care what’s between the legs as much as I care for commonality, reciprocity, and a feeling of connection.

Basically, I have a (strict?) set of parameters that I’m looking for and will be happy to find it AT ALL, let alone eliminate via discrimination on the basis of sex, gender, orientation, etc.

No, what I feel from looking at this woman’s ankles is simply a visceral … and here’s where I’m blocked. Lust? Envy? Deep appreciation? Connection?

Anyway, no idea what to call it. But they click … they sure do click. I’m sure if she wore any other type of shoe I wouldn’t have looked twice. But somehow, some way … I sense this … sexuality … in what she’s wearing.

Hey, maybe that’s it. Maybe she knows/feels like she’s beautiful and I’m picking up on it. Hey, I like that. Now I don’t feel as weird.

This is a post I made on a forum for people like me.  🙂  It was so lengthy and weird I figured it counted as a blog post so I thought I’d post it here, too.

So … I’ve just had an experience (in a game) that would almost lead me to believe that I’m gay. The whole thing has kind of got me confused and I don’t really know what this means for things. I mean, it would definitely change my focus and definitely take some working through as I’d have to chisel away at years of prejudice to come to the truth (again).

I mean, I don’t mind homosexuals … I know lots of homosexuals. I hang out with homosexuals. It’s fine, it’s cute, it’s fun, it makes them happy. Cool, fine. And if ya kinda think about it … I mean … a man is waaaaaay better at knowing what another man wants and the same with women. Women are my best friends, we listen to each other, we empathize, we know where each other are coming from, etc. etc.

I mean, I look at where I am right now and having gone on a few dates with guys and pursued guys I just end up frustrated and upset. I’ve stopped dating because of it. They’re dorks and they just. don’t. understand. women. and it endlessly frustrates me.

Here’s a fun example: a few months ago I had my first stalker, some could-be-my-son-high-school kid followed me home (no, really, he did– traffic does NOT go down this street) and wanted to get my phone number.

I was dating a guy at the time but whoooo did I call? My girl friend. Why? Cause I knew she’d understand and I know my boyfriend would just try to solve the problem and tell me what to do and I’d I’d feel more frustrationg above and beyond the weird experience that had just happened. I figured I was better off telling him later when I’d calmed down a bit and didn’t care what he said about it.

ANYWAY … back to the story:

So I’m playing this game called the Sims 3. The first character I made I mirrored myself and her life ended up being boring because it was just routine. I made sure I stayed on top of her needs and I pursued a career and got her educated, etc. etc. I did stuff that I would do if it were me, basically.

Yawn. So what was the allure of this freaking game? Looks to me like I’m just repeating my stupid @$#% normal life. Like I go to a place of entertainment to mirror what I’m trying to get away from!

I decided to give it another chance on the idea that I just didn’t know how to PLAAAAY it. Which, apparently, I didn’t. The key, the excitement, the randomness, the weirdness, the off-the-wall-WTF-just-happened comes from the flaws.

Ah, OK. Hmmm …

Taking this advice, this time around, I made someone who had more flaws than “good” traits, i.e. was Evil, Hated Art, Insane, etc. I figured the hilarity would ensue once I started insulting people and talking to myself and she could do some random, weird stuff and try to break me out of my little mold.

This is exactly what I/she did for the first 10 minutes of the game. I don’t really remember where I was, a park or something, or how I got there, but my sim put on her bathing suit of her own accord and was laughed at by peoples she’d meet.

I’d also talk or “call over” random men and women and tried to react as randomly as possible, sometimes insulting, sometimes being nice then insulting, talking about my house, job, etc. flirting then insulting … I just kinda wanted to see what would happen when I mixed it all up.

One of the things I did was start flirting with a well-dressed Sim woman. Of course she reacted negatively and this was all part of the fun– pure rejection. I kept complimenting her and trying to hug her and she’d recoil. I figured as soon as I was done making her hate me I’d find her boyfriend and sleep with him and see what happens.

Anyway, I clicked on another “victim” but this time opened up a little tamer than I did with the other woman. I started with asking straight up asked if she was single. I figured it would be a fun, devious plot, maybe she had a boyfriend and she’d make out with me on the park bench and then he’d come over and get pissed then I’d yell at him then we’d do stuff while she was pissed and jealous. Soap opera material, right? I mean, I could write this stuff down and publish novels and when people would ask me, “Where do you get your ideas, Amy?” I’d say, “From the fucking Sims, that’s where.”

So I start queuing up these things and to my surprise … she likes it.

<insert Scooby Do confounded sound here>

OK, fine, a tough nut to crack. So I keep throwing things out there. I mean, she did have super-cute shorts on like I sometimes wear IRL … and she was wearing them with these strappy, black heels, something I would do but can’t get away with ’cause my toes look like @#$% because I have a couple of callouses (I’m workin’ on it).

Looking back I think it was the sheer joy of reciprocation that prodded me forward into unknown territory. I’d do a bunch of flirts, then a hug, then more flirts, so as not to scare her off too quickly … and she reciprocated! My little “+/-” social interaction thingee was like “+” to everything I could dish out.

So at some point I see the “Suggest Going Steady” and I’m thinking, “Hahaha, hysterical … I’m going to get a girlfriend totally by accident.” I started this girl to be an evil, self-serving bitch and there’s some idiot out there who actually likes her … Comedy gold.

But, nope, she took the “Go Steady” thing right in stride and was actually very, very happy about it.

<more Scooby Do confounded noises>

My plans foiled, I decided to take this as far as it would go. A hug here, a compliment here, a kiss here … you’d think she’d get sick of the monotony and tell me to @#$% off! I was determined to fill up that little green bar by her name.

Nope. PlusplusplusPLUSPLUS … nothing but plusses.

Pretty soon I get the, “Propose Marriage” and my sim gets down on her knees and proposes. That should finish her, right? Nope. She accepts. No, not just accepts … is very, very happy about it.

Double-“U” Tee Eff?

Then I’m thinking, “Wow, they’ve gotta like have a ceremony and stuff and invite people and …”

Nope. There’s the “Private Wedding” option right there. So I’m like, “OK, whatever, SUUUURE-ly she’ll think I’m a horrible person since we can’t have a nice, happy wedding. I mean, I would be pissed if someone whom I was dating suggested eloping on the spot by the freaking picnic table.”

Uhhh … nope. I could do. no. wrong in this girl’s eyes. Suddenly, boom– she moves into my house. Boom, it says, “Wife” when I click on her.

Wow.  So I come into this game to wreak havoc and end-up married. All the while my other Sim who mirrored me couldn’t even make guys or girls look twice.

Not only is my sim married but they love spending time together.

I quit the game while I was ahead because I’m going down to a father’s day get-together and ten minutes of rolling this around in my head I realized something.

At some point I realized I identified with the sim my sim had married and I was having my sim do to the other sim things that I would want someone to do to me in a relationship.

And all this came from a butch, randomized GIRL. And I thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

Now I know you lesbians out there are going, “Duuuuh!” but you have to realize this sort of thing is beyond my realm of possibility in my little universe of life.

Boys date girls, girls like boys, sometimes they mix it up. Fine. And yeah, I’ve been married before, but it was normal right, i.e. a “boy” (even though it was kinda forced/faked) and a “girl.”

And I have to identify as bi-sexual since I have done stuff with boys and girls and my only preference is who kisses better and what I’m in the mood for.

But … lesbian? Actually and purposefully dating another woman? Preposterous!

Until now. What I just went through feels. so. right. It’s comfortable, it feels happy, it feels whole, it feels fulfilling. The thought of a butch woman chatting me up and throwing out hugs and kisses fills me with a tingle, it makes me happy to think about.

Does this mean I’m gay?

There’s something definitely and undeniably sexy about an old man, especially a gentleman.  Perhaps it’s his ironed shirt, his well-groomed hair, the smell of his cologne, the stubble on his face, his mastery of himself.

When he looks at you, looks into your eyes, you see lust burning within as he patiently but passionately admires your body and mind, as an accomplished artist might admire a painting.  You can almost feel him slowly remove every inch of your clothing in his mind, kissing the soft skin beneath, as if enjoying a succulent and tasteful meal.

You realize that if this were a younger, more capricious, less experienced young man that he’d throw you to the ground and begin unromantically ripping off your clothes in an attempt to extinguish the fire in his loins with an orgasm.

But no– while the lust of that young man still burns as strongly within him, the outside is tempered, refined, experienced, worldly.

He makes no verbal passes except for compliments, telling you how beautiful you look, how much he missed you.  He doesn’t touch except for perhaps fleetingly and delicately with his hand or perhaps you accidentally get too close and brush up against him, leaving the skin tingling and longing for more.

He doesn’t grab and fondle.  He doesn’t push his face into yours for a sloppy kiss.  He stares at you just enough to feel desire and not enough to feel uncomfortable.

You realize that these desires of his lie just below the surface but soon you realize that you desire him just as much.  You desire him to kiss you, to grope you, to unleash his caged lust on your body.

You can’t help yourself but to reach out and touch him and when he responds and touches you back, it only makes you want him more.  Your arms somehow make their way around his neck and you somehow press your breasts to his body.

You kiss and in that kiss you say, “I give my body to you.  Take me.  Do with me as you wish and desire.”

Yes, that’s what’s sexy about an older gentleman.

I just noticed something:  of all of the categories in which I have posted on this blog, the Sex category has seen the least amount of activity.

The specific breakdown is thus:  Journal has nine, Prose has five, and Virtual has four.

If you can tell anything by a perfunctory analysis it’s that I’m self-obsessed.  And while I’ll deny this or probably give you some intellectual reason easily recognizable as a feeble defense mechanism, this doesn’t change the fact that there simply isn’t much Sex going on in my life.

Now, before you jump to the conclusion that I’m a cold prude who thinks the Devil will drag me screaming to Hell if I touch a guy’s pee-pee touching and kissing makes babies, I can assure you that this conclusion is completely unfounded and untrue.

Why, just look at my stories; some of them are very blatantly sexually themed.  Moreover, you could probably categorize them in the strong fetish department, pushing them even further into the fringes of hedonism.

Actually, the answer is very, very simple and very, very embarrassing:

I’m self-conscious about my body.

… and there it is!  That should answer all of your questions.  Such feelings breed not dressing well, not doing makeup all the time, not going out, not wanting to get intimate, etc.

Will I get over it?  Probably not.  Will I just suffer through it and ruin my relationships because of my lack of self-esteem?  Probably.  So what to do?

Write in my blog, I guess.  🙂