Deliciously Naughty

Feel the love...

An interracial couple was denied a marriage license in Lousiana out of concern for "their possible future kids"...

As a woman in an interracial marriage, unsurprisingly, this strikes a nerve for me for several reasons...

1-Loving v Virginia...otherwise known as the Supreme Court Case that ended race based marriage discrimination.

2-That interracial marriage is only seen as a black/white couple.  I know a couple where one partner is Brazilian and the other is White, one where one is Chinese and the other African American, my own marriage where I am white and my partner is Indian.  The JP involved in the story is very specific that he thinks of interracial couples as black/white couples.  This is a popular perception and it irritates me that our culture is so caught up in that binary that we rarely see interracial couples who aren't black/white portrayed in pop culture.  It's a small soapbox, but it bugs me.

3-The "for the kids" part of the argument. 

• Firstly it assumes that all married couples have kids, which is untrue.  Now, this couple *does* plan to have kids, but it's not like the JP would have married them had they not planned to have kids.
• Secondly, it's not like they couldn't have kids without being married.  Take, for example....ME.  I was born far outside the bonds of holy matrimony.  It's possible.  See when a sperm and a fertile egg meet, there isn't a ring check before implantation occurs.
• People who try to cloak their actions with a veneer of helping those without political voice, especially when those actions are malicious are cowards.  Have the courage of your convictions and say that you are against what used to be called miscegenation.  Which, by the way, is stupid because there's NO SUCH THING as a "pure" race.  The history of whiteness in this country is a fascinating topic for another day, and probably another blog, but the short point that I will make is that at one point or another Irish, Italians, and Jews were not considered white by mainstream America and that only changing dynamics in immigration allowed them to become perceived as such.  Beyond that, I will also add that most Americans would not be considered white if you apply the one drop rule (if you have one drop of non-white blood, you are that non-white race).  It's not actually because you give a damn about the kids, it's because you want to deflect criticism.

4-The citation is that interracial couples, in the JP's opinion, are more unstable.  The general  divorce rate is 50% or just over it.  There is some belief that interracial couples have a higher rate, but there  is absolutely no data to back it up.  There's no refusal to marry white couples because they have a higher divorce rate.  Why not only marry certain religions? 

5-The I have black friends part of the argument.  I'm sorry, but your litmus test of whether or not you qualify as a racist includes the following testimony... "they use my bathroom" ??!!!  I don't know where to begin analyzing that comment. 

Sorry Mr. Bardwell...you fail.  You have not convinced me that you have good intentions.  You have not convinced me that you are anything other than a racist trying (and failing) to portray himself as misunderstood now that national attention has fallen upon you.  Your JP license should be revoked.  You either choose to follow the law of the land, which is Loving V Virginia, or you admit that you are a racist and that your personal convictions don't allow you to do so, in which case you can no long represent the state of Lousiana as a JP.

Meanwhile, I'll hold you up as an example of how our country still has quite a road to travel in the area of race relations...I'm sure you'll understand; it's for the good of my child, an interracial child, so that she can grow up in a world less full of hatred than the one you did.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/15/interracial-couple-denied_n_322784.html

   

The light at the end of the tunnel

Thank you for the public and private support with the recent muddy ground of my marriage.

Things are getting better. 

The truth is that we were both to blame...me for not bringing up certain issues sooner, him in part for not recognizing how his meds were affecting him and thinking that placing work before family was somehow beneficial to our family.

There are now concrete plans in place for time together, a couples counselor when our insane summer travel schedule is over mid September, and some time away from the baby for me.  Did you know health clubs will watch your kid for a pittance while you get exercise?  I have to say if I lose weight in the next year it will be largely motivated by "I need a break from you, LM!"  Because an hour on the bike or doing some class or whatever instead of playing peekaboo for the 8,028,493 time that hour sounds awesome.

We are choosing to (in Sapphire's words) fight for our marriage.  Because it is worth it.  Even when I want to smack him with a frying pan...and not in the fun way.

PPD and it's effect on sex drive

For some women post partum depression hits immediately.  Others, it creeps into their lives slowly.  And some of us are just hit like a ton of bricks.

I should have been happy.  I was finally home with my daughter.  She had been released from the hospital and she was alive.  She was strong. 

Maybe it was finally allowing myself to start to digest everything we'd been through.  My therapist certainly thinks I get to claim Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with regards to the whole thing.  In the moment you only react.  You don't process what you're going through.  I had so many parents say to me "I could never handle that."  The truth is that you handle the child you're given.  No one would wish for a child to be deathly ill, or to be diagnosed with a disorder or a disease or given a label that indicates their life might be less than perfect.  But if it happens, you deal.

So in the end, it really shouldn't be all that surprising that between my own predisposition towards depression and everything that happened coupled with the hormone hell that is life as a post partum woman that I just stopped functioning.  Over the course of a few days it became harder to motivate myself to respond to her cries.  I began to take care of her mechanically.  On the outside I was doing everything you're supposed to...giving her a kiss, telling her I loved her, changing her diaper, pumping breastmilk, giving her bottles, ferrying her to doctor's appointments and so on....but inside I felt empty.  I felt more and more disconnected from this little bundle of helpless and nonstop need. 

I felt alone after Sexyhusband had gone to work. 

I was lucky, though.  I understood what was going on enough to ask for help.  From family and from my therapist.  My dosage of antidepressants was tweaked.

I was isolated, not just from my child and myself, but from Sexyhusband.

There was one brief shining moment of hope, when at 5 weeks post partum I just decided I was ready to have sex, 6 week rule be damned.  But after that, it turned into a lot of handjobs, mostly out of guilt or because it was the easiest way for me to get to sleep, not because of desire.

When you have PPD, it's so easy to begin to hate yourself or to just not give a damn because you feel numb. 

I am a member of several online communties and there are plenty of members who had babies within days or weeks of my birthing the LM who say they still haven't had sex 7-9 months later.  Who have no interest.  In some cases, who are so consumed by their child(ren) that their husband is an afterthought.  I understand all of them.  I had to make a conscious choice to make my marriage a priority and I was lucky enough to have a husband who due to his own demons of depression understood exactly what I was going through.  Who could summon gratitude for a handjob.  Who made an effort back.  Not all of these women are as lucky in that regard.

But part of me wonders if they might also be suffering from PPD to some extent.

Becoming a mom, especially if it's your first child, especially if you hate failing (whatever that means in your book), especially if you don't want to parent by the norms of your socioeconomic status or current trends, is so overwhelming that it can blot out the sun.  I am certainly struggling to stay abreast of politics, something that was a passion of mine before.  Writing and cooking are things I fit in around everythign else, and often I don't. 

Marriage and a sex life require work.

Life isn't a fairy tale where it all works out if you just manage to find the right person.  Both partners in the marriage need to be committed. 

Throw depression or a partner who isn't holding up their end of the bargain and you have the start of a tragedy in the making.  It's not coincidence that at least 3 women in the community I am most involved in have confessed that they're considering divorce.

If you suffer PPD, know that there is support out there.  Even if the only support you want is to read the words here on a sex blog that it can get better.

It can get better.

My vagina

There are those who opine that having a blog is a self-indulgent exercise in navel gazing.

Fine.

But this is a sex blog, so let's do some self-indulgent vagina gazing, shall we?

I'm not sure when I became aware of my vagina...perhaps about two or three when I went through the typical "what's it called" phase all toddlers go through while exploring their bodies.  My mom went with the straightforward (while not entirely accurate) vagina (as opposed to vulva).  Men have penises (penii?) and women have vaginas. 

I went through what I'm sure was a mortifying several YEARS of telling anyone who would listen to me that men have a penis and women have a vagina.  Loudly.  Proudly.

And then I forgot about it...or at least it was background noise.

I remember being told in early elementary school about good touches and bad touches.  I recall that our "private parts" were a place where we shouldn't let people touch us.  Okay, sure...good touch, bad touch, got it.

Except that I can't really be that breezy on the topic.  Because when I was about eight or nine, someone did try to touch me in my private place.  My babysitter's husband.  It was summer, she was out getting stuff, he was watching us in her stead, and "The Dark Crystal" was on the screen.  I had grown tired of running around and playing games and sank onto the couch to watch the movie.  He was there, and I knew that there was something wrong about the way his foot kept sliding under me to touch me.  I moved.  He moved.  And so on.

I wasn't raped.  I'm told that what happened to me doesn't even register as molestation, per se, as it does "inappropriate touching."

Whatever.

The reason I bring it up is that it affected my relationship with my vagina.  Not only did I have a lot of emotional discomfort of knowing that something wrong had happened, I had a vague notion that it had something to do with having a vagina.  That there was something perhaps wrong with a vagina.  I talked to a counselor for a time, but after a while, I just ran out of things to say.  It wasn't like I was still attending the home daycare (my mom reported it and him to just about everyone...I don't know what happened, although I'm 100% sure he didn't go to jail or end up on a sex offender registry, if there was such a thing in the late 80's).

It was around this time (and by that it could have been a year or two later...the dates blur beyond the idea that it was late elementary school) that I began doing something by myself in the bathroom.  I don't really know what to call it...certainly not masturbation.  But I would straddle the lip of the tub and jump up and down...today my vagina winces at the memory, so I'm not sure if what I deriving was pain or pleasure, or perhaps both.  I don't know if it was a pre-cursor to masturbation (although I doubt it as I didn't actually start masturbating until I was almost 16) or if it was an attempt at punishing myself for something elusive.

I was 11 when I got my period.  After much longing to not be the last girl to get it, I was thoroughly disgusted by the process, which I also found incredibly painful.  I now know that I should've been put on birth control at a young age to help regulate my very irregular very painful periods, but my old school pediatrician would NEVER have done that.  As a result, I missed a LOT of school each year starting in about fifth or sixth grade.

I remember my fear and fascination with tampons, and the idea that you actually put one up there (try to imagine the last two words said in a young horrified fascinated tween voice).  I wanted to, as the promise of a less messy period and not staining any more white jeans were tempting...but I worried about that old chestnut of it breaking my hymen and taking my virginity (cue the eye rolls).  It would be years before I actually tried the damn things, and now I loathe the idea of a pad.

Speaking of pads, I also was mortified at the idea of PURCHASING pads.  People would know that my vagina was leaking blood!  What if the cashier was a MAN????  As the kids today would say "like OMFG, I would like totally die and stuff!"

A slightly distrustful detente sprung up between my vagina and I.  I didn't know when it would launch bloody attacks on white jeans or khaki skirts, but I was proud that I was a "real woman."

Which is when my mom began the talks.  You know...THE talks.  Except hers went "I got pregnant the first time I had sex."  Because that won't freak a girl out.  And then she talked about what could/would happen if I got pregnant in high school.  Because THAT wouldn't freak me out even MORE.  So it is with no hesitation and much fanfare that I lay my many neuroses about sex during my high school year at her feet. 

However, as we all discovered, there are things you can do that don't involve sex.  Or even the opposite sex.  Or anything other than our sex organs and our hands (or shower heads).  At 16 I became a compulsive masturbator.  I would masturbate multiple times a day.  I grew to love, if not my vagina in its entirety, certainly my clit.

I was 17 before someone else touched my vagina in a way that was pleasurable.  Movieguy touched me through my jeans, and about a year later, a boy I dated very briefly (I was a cashier, he was a bagger at the local grocery store...how very stereotypical and trite, I know) got his hand into my jeans before I got scared and pulled away.

It was around this time that I wanted to get a good look at it.  And it was about this time that I realized vaginas are very hard to see, and require much awkward positioning in front of your mirror attached to the back of your bedroom door while praying no one walks in on you.

Losing my virginity then, was a bit of a shock for my vagina.  Especially since it wasn't very good, and he wasn't very caring about things.  Having sex with a different guy less than two weeks later who WAS very good (and better endowed) was a bigger shock, as was the realization that hey, I like penii up there.

Having my first pelvic exam was also a bit of a shock, especially when you factor in the cold metal of the speculum.  Oh, and that apparently I have an elongated vagina that requires the "long" speculum.  Like most men who claim to have a bigger than average penis, I am often not believed when I tell gynecologists this, and had to put up with many insertions of the normal speculums followed by a somewhat embarrassed "yes, you were right," removal of the first speculum, and insertion of a longer one.  I have gotten to be a bitch about this as I have gotten very weary in my old age of the two speculum dance.

I spent 18 to about 26 viewing my vagina as a sexual organ exclusively.  Sure, I worried about an unplanned pregnancy, but managed to use birth control very effectively and never had to deal with one of the hardest decisions a woman might have to make.  It wasn't really until 26 that I began thinking seriously about the other function of my vagina, and the cause of that shift was Sexyhusband.  Because unlike those amorphous kids I wanted "someday," I wanted his baby.

Marriage followed, as did a conscious and effective application of birth control until last year, when I got pregnant for the first time.

Seeing that first positive after tens (hundreds?) of negatives (I am a compulsive pregnancy test taker and having a chronically late period did nothing for my paranoia) was cause for much elation as that baby was wanted.  Seeing the blood about a week later was hard.  Hearing that the baby wasn't going to make it was harder.  Getting the D&C once I began to miscarry was hardest of all because even more than when I experienced the "inappropriate touching" I felt hostile towards my vagina.  It had let me down.  It hadn't done its job.

Of course, I understand that miscarriage is sadly common, and that it has to do with a million different factors, none of which in my particular case, have to do with my vagina.  I don't have an incompetent cervix.  My uterus is in working order.  It was just "one of those things."

Incidentally, I recently read that Buddhists believe that miscarriages are souls one step away from nirvana, who need only to be loved one more time before they can enter nirvana.  While I consider myself an atheist, I still find that notion comforting.

It took time and a lot of love and support to put myself back together again emotionally after the miscarriage.

Getting pregnant again did not heal my relationship with my vagina.  If anything, it made me MORE distrustful of that body part initially, especially when we experienced bleeding with this baby.  As it turned out, her placenta had had a bit of trouble implanting and blood had pooled in my uterus.  Every time I orgasmed, some would come out.  Which created a very unhealthy dynamic between my psyche and my vagina.

I am lucky to have had the support of  a wonderful husband during these past almost 32 weeks...because pregnancy following miscarriage isn't an easy thing to go through.  I also will state that having a supportive therapist has been a huge deal for me.  In addition to the emotional hurdles, I had to deal with the unpleasant reality that occurred when my vagina stopped working reliably and I began to pee myself when I coughed, threw up, laughed too hard, or didn't make it to a bathroom fast enough, no matter how many kegels I did.  Which sucked.

In about 56 days, give or take a few, with any luck I'll be pushing a little girl through my vagina out into the world.

And so we reach my current relationship with my vagina...contemplative.

It's  pretty damn impressive when you think about it.  My vagina has been many things-a source of pride, a source of shame, a source of annoyance, a source of fear, a source of joy-but it's never been a source of life.

The process of becoming that source of life is pretty frightening.  I mean, have you ever SEEN a 10 centimeter circle?  My vagina is going to get HOW BIG??? 

We attended a childbirth class recently and the natural childbirth video sent me into what was basically a panic attack.  Sexyhusband had to keep reminding me that no one was going to hold a gun to my head and make me do this without drugs.  In fact, everyone involved is pretty pro-drugs in my case (lest we not forget my back surgery of two years ago).  But watching another woman go through pain (pictures lots of moaning and grunting and moaning...and that was before there was pushing) was very scary, which is when I began to realize exactly what I'd signed up for.

I'm frightened of this.  Sure it's natural, women have been doing it forever, blah blah blah...but this time it's MY vagina.  I have worries that I never had before, like whether or not it will go back to normal (I know the answer is yes) and how long will it take to heal from the trauma of giving birth so I can return it to the much more familiar job of sex organ.

In the meantime I suppose the real current attitude I have is trepidation...I mean, sure, in theory I have about 56 days, but since when do women actually have kids on the day they're due?  I could blow at any time!  It's like a ticking time bomb between my thighs.

I wonder what the three year old me who would proudly announce to anyone who'd listen that she had a vagina would say about all this.  She'd probably run around explaining that a BAY-BEE was going to come out of her vagina like it was the coolest thing that could ever happen to a person.

Come to think of it, maybe the little girl I need to get to know isn't the one who's currently growing in my uterus, but the little girl I left behind 27 years ago.  She suddenly seems very wise to me, and could teach me a few things about my vagina.

Sex with a purpose

Since Sexyhusband and I made the decision to start trying for another pregnancy around December, the sex has been different, at least for me.  The obvious difference is not having to remember where the fuck we left the condoms, or having to stop and put a condom on, which allows things to be more spontaneous.  The more subtle difference, at least for me, is that when we make love I get lost (mostly) in the moment, but when we're done there's a part of my mind that wonders if this might be the time that I get pregnant again.

This second attempt has been very different from the first time out.  With my last pregnancy, we sort of decided to take the gloves off, so to speak, and were somewhat ambivalent about the outcome.  We're both around 30, we're both overweight, and all the books said those two factors should have meant that conception should have taken 6+ months.  But the last time around, we tosssed out the birth control and within 3 weeks I had a positive pregnancy test.  I knew my general period cycle, but didn't give it much thought as I wasn't expecting to be pregnant soon.  It was summer, and I wasn't working at all, so there was much sex. 

Given the speed with which I got knocked up last time, fair or not, there was a part of me that expected it to be equally easy this time.  However, my cycles are less predictable post-miscarriage, so it's hard to predict when I'm actually fertile.  I've agreed not to use an ovulation kit unless we're still trying in summer.  Secondly I'm currently working 3 jobs.  Yes, three.  Arguably four if you count the two separate jobs I'm doing for one job.  I'm fucking tired, and sex isn't something I've been able to prioritize much these days. 

I've peed on two sticks in the past week. 

Both have said "not pregnant." 

I'm ridiculously hormonal right now, which translates to zero to bitchqueen in 3 seconds flat.  I know Sexyhusband wouldn't voice this publically, but I imagine it's a bit like living with someone who has Multiple Personality Disorder.  However, it's not just being bitchy...something new post-miscarriage is how teary my period can make me. 

I know my period is coming and it upsets me.

I understand that every pregnancy is different.  I know that I'm lucky to at least have conclusive proof that I *can* get knocked up.  I know someone who is on their 4th try at IUI (intra-uterine insemination) with no luck.  The thing is, knowing how easy it happened last time, part of me expected it to be easy again this time.

To tie it back to sex....

Sex can occasionally seem like a chore.  I get stressed when we're not having sex often enough...and because I don't know my fertile period, I have to account for a longer swath of time just in case.  Working so much has made it hard to really have the energy or interest in the kind of sex we had in New Orleans.  It almost feels easier to have a quickie and use my vibrator to get off.

The problem with all of that is that it isn't fair.  It's not fair to Sexyhusband because it objectifies him, and reduces him to the product of his orgasm.  It's not fair to me because I'm not enjoying sex as much. 

I don't know a solution, but I know the problem. 

It's easy to say "just have sex and not worry or think."  It's impossible, at least for me, to actually DO that.  It's just not who I am.  I overthink everything, which is generally a fairly adorable personality quirk. 

I also know that once I see the positive test result, I will be in a complete panic for about two more months.  Having lost a pregnancy, I will be in mortal fear of losing another one until I reach the landmarks I never reached with the first baby.  A strong and healthy heartbeat.  Growth past six weeks and a day on the part of the fetus.  Being pregnant at the start of my second trimester.  The one thing I do understand this time is that there's nothing I can do to prevent a miscarriage if it does happen again.  I did everything perfectly-I took my vitamins, I ate healthily, I went overboard and totally cut out caffeine, I didn't drink and I haven't had a cigarette in more than 8 years, and once things went poorly I put myself on bedrest; and none of that helped or changed a damn thing.

There are times when I wish that having a baby was the kind of easy process that it is in fairy stories--lift a cabbage leaf and there's the baby.  It's selfish of me to insist on procreating when there are so many kids who need a home, but I want to do it, if I can.  I just wish that I didn't have so much emotional baggage about becoming pregnant, or being pregnant.

I don't know if it's really the trying to get pregnant thing, or being overworked, or what, but I miss the sex life I had this time last year.

Sex in Disguise-Advice for the ladies

Several readers seemed to have missed the point of the Sophia post a few days ago.  I didn't actually loan out my husband to a friend (although I am open to the idea), but instead I put on a wig and pretended to be someone else.  This wasn't the first time I've played this game with Sexyhusband; on our honeymoon, I pretended to be a French Call Girl named Josephine, and the fantasy/sex we had that night inspired my short story  The Call Girl Chapter 1.

For those of you who are monogamous (I can only sort semi kinda claim that), a fun way to spice up your sex life and enjoy a new partner is for one of you to just pretend to be someone else.  Wigs, clever makeup, and other props can help the illusion along.  But most important is for the new person in the bed to NEVER break character, no matter what your partner says.

Sophia was timed specifically because I knew the Halloween wigs would be half off on the day after Halloween, and only cost me $7, which is significantly less money than hiring a call girl would have been. 

While some of my readers are sex gods and goddesses themselves, I still humbly offer up some suggestions for those of you who haven't tried this sort of thing before and would like to.  Well, for the ladies-I can't really speak to the men on this topic.

CREATING THE DISGUISE

The most important thing with your disguise is to go out of character.  If you're a slutty lingerie lady, try something sweet and demure (or the inverse for the sweet girls).  Wigs are good.  Makeup that's radically different from what you usually do (or any makeup in my case-I generally only bother when I'm dressing up) but not clownish.  If your hair is curly, straighten it.  For the ladies without glasses-pick up a pair of naughty librarian glasses.  For my fellow four-eyes (if possible)-lose them for the night.  Basically do something that is totally out of character and will cause a disconnect for your lover.

ACTING THE PART

The biggest rule here is---commit.  Commit to your role.  Only answer to your fake name, do not acknowledge anything your character wouldn't know about the relationship, your family, your pet's name, anything.  Do NOT under any circumstances, break character to ask him if he (or she) remembered to do X.

Accents are good, if you can do them convincingly.  I was able to do one for Josephine, thanks to 13 years of French, and a month living in France during college.  I have tried a British one, but I just can't maintain for that long, and the same goes for a Southern accent.  You should only go for it if you can maintain it long term, in a fairly authentic way, even as you're coming.

THE SEX

This is a great way to try out something new sexually, too.  If you're shy in the bedroom, but wanted to try spanking for example, it might be easier to ask for it as Candy, the Slutty Cheerleader instead of Lily, the sweet kindergarten teacher.  Pretend your lover's body is new to you, and make him/her work for their sweet spots to get touched. 

THE AFTERMATH

I strongly encourage you to finish the fantasy.  Leave the apartment/room/whatever and then come back as "you."  It helps maintain the full illusion.  Ask your partner if they want you to pretend total ignorance of the night's events, or if they want to debrief (depending on your activities). 

Have fun, and remember that this is a fun (and cheap) way to spice up your sex life that even the most jaded of us can enjoy.

Et tu, Dan Savage?

I like Dan Savage's column, Savage Love, generally speaking. 

However, a letter last Friday touched on a raw nerve of mine, and I took some degree of issue with Savage's reply.

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I love my wife. We've been married 10 years. Young punk-rock love turned into adult debt-ridden love. She's been there for me, helps me achieve my goals, all that. But she's let herself go, while I've gotten myself into better shape.

I pride myself on being a good husband. I've been 100 percent faithful, I clean, I tell her I love her. I don't want to hurt her. I love her. I just don't lust for her anymore. My wife's skin is a mess, she has dietary issues that cause gnarly gas, she eats bad food that causes her to gain weight. I always thought I was against the society-imposed, magazine-model, porn-star look girls are supposed to have. So it's hard for me to admit that I'm not cool enough to think my wife is hot the way she is.

I've started stoning to dull the fact that I'm hating on myself for not being hot for my wife. She's picking up on all of this, which is affecting her mood, self-esteem, and energy levels. And since she tends to eat more when things aren't going well for us, this is creating a hugely negative feedback loop on the weight-and-lust fronts.

When almost any girl you see is hotter to you than your wife... what the fuck do you do? When the desire to be with someone who actually turns you on is overwhelming... what the fuck do you do? When people you find attractive, women and men, hit on you all the time... what the fuck do you do?

Hawt And Royally Depressed

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We'll get to Savage's reply in a minute.

I want to state for the record that this is exactly the sort of mentality that convinced me for more than a DECADE that as an overweight woman I was going to end up alone.  That I had to learn how to work around the disadvantages of my body, and expect that eventually I'd get dumped for a hotter model anways.

In some ways this guy is more damaging because, at least on the surface, he claims that he WANTS to be hot for his wife, but just isn't.  That just about sums up every insecurity I had from puberty until I met Sexyhusband.

What really burns my big fat sexy ass is that it is perfectly acceptable in our culture to say this, say it publicly, and get support from the community.  A fat wife is seen as a liability-something to be ashamed over.  Which just feeds in to the larger issue that our society refused to see fat women as sexual, regardless of how many hot sex fat women there are out there.  Once is a freak, twice is a novelty, but the hundreds of thousands of sexy fat women across the planet are no coincidence.

Because it fed into my insecurities, however irrelevant they are in my current situation, that was all I picked up the first time I read the letter.

I'll get to my conclusions after we read what Dan Savage had to say

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Before you give up or drive yourself crazy over this situation, HARD, you need to have an honest talk with your wife. It's simple: Tell your wife that you no longer find her attractive. It's called being honest.

It is quite possible that she has no idea that her out-of-shapeness is a turnoff, especially if she has never been told! Try saying something like this: "Honestly, I love you, but I'm not as physically attracted as I'd like to be. Can I help you work out a bit?" Then perhaps pick up a set of weights at a garage sale, set up a full-length mirror in a spare room, and work out together as a couple. Or take her for long walks. Or, if she's a foodie, encourage her to garden; a lot of calories get burned when you fork over your own vegetable patch!

But start with complete honesty. It's not that hard to say, "You have gotten fat and unattractive and my sex drive is nil, so can we do something about it before I bail on you?" My goodness! Whatever happened to being honest? Sit your partner down and tell her you love her in every way but you are not attracted to her due to her appearance. "You are out of shape and it's killing our relationship" is a good place to start! Stress how much you care, bring up the health thing, and tell her you want her to live a long, happy life, but impress upon her that this is a problem that might lead you to leave.

Open communication means revealing your thoughts so the other person can take action. Which sometimes means saying, "Unless you take up jogging and lose 35 pounds, sweetie, I'm going to have a hard time being sexually excited about you." The partner either laces up the running shoes or they waddle on with their life.

Good luck!

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Well, gee, Dan, thanks for jumping on the "fat people can't be sexy" bandwagon.  And hey, why not jump on the "fat people must be too stupid to notice they're fat--they need HELP from the skinny around them" bandwagon while you're at it?  Finally, what the fuck is with validating the idea that sexual attractiveness is the most important (or only) reason to stay in a marriage?

You are right that honesty is important.

But, let us consider a few things. 

Could the weight gain and such be resultant of depression?  If that's true than all the working out in the world isn't going to fix the root problem.  Are there medical issues?  Among other causes, I have learned about all the fun side effects of infertility meds through some friends (some blog, some real) which include weight retention and gas.  Some dietary issues aren't easily controlled, and it's not like anyone chooses to have embarassingly smelly gas.  Why aren't you asking him about these further issues?

Secondly, forcing a woman to lose weight through fear IS NOT OKAY.  Let's make it a mantra--buying your wife dumbells so she can work out without her having asked you for them?--NOT OKAY.  Telling your wife that if she doesn't lose weight, you'll leave her?--NOT OKAY.  It's also stupid for you to even consider that it might be a sustainable condition.  Even if she does lose the weight, you have to know that there will be considerable resentment on her side, and eventually she might be the one who leaves.  Further, being that critical about your spouses body over the long term is a credible source of a "mental abuse" claim during a divorce.

Thirdly, it's never suggested that this is a delayed seven year itch that's conveinently being blamed on the wife.  Everyone has the urge to stray and Mr "Hawt" is just looking for validation, because dude, if your wife's a heifer, of course you should leave her and get new hot sex.

Finally, and perhaps this should have been firstly, at no point does Savage call a spade a spade.  Or in this case, an asshole an asshole.

This is a 10 year marriage.  One would hope that there's more to a marriage than sexual attractiveness.  While weight may be this guy's proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, I can't imagine that everything else is perfect.

And bluntly, if he is that stupid, shallow, and self-absorbed....well, I know a way she can lose at least 150 pounds in seconds.  And then she's welcome to come visit the DN house, where we know how to appreciate a woman with curves in all the right places.

UPDATE******************

Glad to see that the readers rebelled :)

From Dan's most recent column....as the genie said to Aladdin "He CAN be taught!"

Coming next week: What the fuck was I thinking? In last week's column, I told Hawt And Royally Depressed to be honest with his wife. She'd put on a few pounds—a few dozen—and he wasn't feeling it anymore. Some readers felt my suggested opening lines—"You have gotten fat and unattractive and my sex drive is nil, so can we do something about it before I bail on you?" "You are out of shape and it's killing our relationship." "Unless you take up jogging and lose 35 pounds, sweetie, I'm going to have a hard time being sexually excited about you."—weren't helpful. Rereading my advice now, I have to agree: That's terrible advice. We'll have a full accounting in next week's column.

Miscarriage and Feminine Identity

This will most likely be my last post specifically about miscarriage, but it's the one I've been trying to write all along for this blog. 

****Disclaimer***I do not claim to be an expert on this topic, and am only addressing my emotions and feelings on this topic.

There's something powerful about a positive pregnancy test.  If the baby is wanted, it is a moment of awe, fear, and triumph.  If the pregnancy is unwanted, it is a terrifying sword of Damocles hanging over your head.  I've peed on many a stick in my day (my picture should be next to the words "pregnancy hypochondria" in the dictionary) and I've prayed for both results over the years.

On August 30th I saw my first positive pregnancy test.  I used the clearblue easy digital model, which is kind enough to just say "pregnant" or "not pregnant" instead of giving you lines or dots or some other morse code.  In 30 seconds I think I experienced at least 50 different individual emotions ranging from glee to terror.

Underneath it all, though, was a uniquely feminine sort of pride.  I had accomplished my biological imperative, my hypothetical biological destiny, and spawned.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating that every woman get knocked up, but it is something that only we can do, and regardless of what the most stubborn person would say, it's a magical realization to know you'd done it.

I felt more feminine than I ever had, even more than when I'd lived out my fairy tale princess fantasy on my wedding day.  Becoming pregnant was a special sort of validation that I never knew existed.  Unfortunately, that pride was exceptionally short lived.

I had my first cramps within a few days, and went in for a second blood test on September 3rd.  My hormone levels were shooting up, and the nurse reassured me that everything was fine, and that the pains I was feeling was probably just my uterus moving around.  But within two weeks I was in the Emergency room with pain and spotting.  The baby was measuring a week and a half too small, but as I'm irregular we weren't too worried, yet.  Last Thursday was the ultrasound that resulted in a negative prognosis.  Only 48 or so hours ago was the moment of hope-a heartbeat.  But it was too slow, the baby was too small, and the pregnancy was moving down towards my cervix.  On Thursday came blood, and the end of our dreams for our first child.

The thing about miscarriage is how much it robs you of your femininity.  You go from believing you're some kind of fertility sex goddess to a failed mother in an instant (or, in my case, over 12 long days and nights).  Regardless of how common miscarriage is, it's impossible not to take it personally, to grieve, and to hurt.

I feel robbed of that special feminine power I'd tapped into. 

Defective.

No one needs to quote statistics at me.  I know them.  I know that 95% of all pregnancies that end in the first trimester like mine are because of a bad sperm/egg match, or a glitch somewhere in the formation process.  I know that up to 50% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage.  I know a number of women whose first pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and who have beautiful children today.  That doesn't make it easier.

For me, the prohibition on sex and orgasm made it all worse.  I'm not just my sexuality, but it is a huge part of who I am, and how I relate to the world around me (obviously, or I wouldn't be here).  Losing that part of me, especially as I was losing my child as well made me feel lost, isolated, and like I was locked outside in the middle of a blizzard.  I remember putting on jeans, sneakers, a long sleeved shirt, and a jacket, and stepping outside into our unseasonably warm weather, feeling confused.  How could it be warm and sunny-hell, perfect beach weather-when I felt so cold on the inside.  It should be pouring, thundering, a hurricane, a blizzard outside, not this perfect blue sun and obscenely bright sun.

I'm angry.  I come from a long line of fertile women, with the last miscarriage in my family belonging to my great grandmother (although my grandmother's first child died within 2 days of birth) over 60 years ago.  Why the hell couldn't I pull this off? 

I did everything right.  I hadn't had a drink since our anniversary in July.  I stopped drinking caffeine entirely, even though all I had to do was cut back to like a can or two a day.  I started eating vegetables, and I HATE vegetables.  I drank enough water to fill an ocean.  I walked every day.  I started on prenatals over a month before I got pregnant.

It wasn't enough.

I'm jealous of every pregnant woman I see.  When I see a baby, a wave of intense longing and a small voice saying "I was supposed to have that" washes over me.  I try to remind myself that I don't know how hard won those pregnancies or children are, but it still hurts.

I have a hard time accepting the condolences of my friends.  They try so hard to make me feel better, but the comments don't always help.  One friend said something about how "it's not really a baby yet, just cells" and I almost hung up on them because they don't get how real the baby was to us.  It's funny because it's the same argument I'd make about a woman electing to have an abortion at this point in her pregnancy, but I realize the difference between an unwanted invader and a desperately loved and wanted child.

I wonder if anyone will remember me on mother's day.  I became a mother the second I got pregnant, and I embraced it the second the stick read "pregnant."  But I know that to most people, Sexyhusband and I don't have children and we're not parents.  I hate those people.

The loss of our child is a wound, both on my heart, and on my femininity.  I know from losing my grandmother when I was a teen (who was essentially a mother to me, and who I was incredibly close to) that these wounds eventually heal, and while the person we lose is never forgotten, the anniversary of their death and the dates important to them become less painful over time.  The wound on my heart will heal.

The wound of my femininity will also heal, but only completely with the live birth of a healthy child.  Sure the odds are good that it wasn't my fault, but I'll only *really* believe it when I can hold the evidence of that.

I have a feeling it will be hard to win back my sex goddesshood.  I've been knocked off my pedestal, and my own ego made it a pretty high one at that.  I'm bruised and standing on the ground, unsure of how to climb up the smooth sides of my pedestal.

The first step on that journey, though, is to allow Sexyhusband to give me an orgasm in a few days time, followed by our sexual reunion next weekend.

Here's to letting the healing process begin.

***********************************

I will most likely not be blogging for a few days.  The surgery is tomorrow afternoon, and I'll be groggy tomorrow, and probably not in the most emotionally healthy place.  I start to resume my normal life on Saturday, and will hopefully be hearing about a job I've been interviewing for throughout this whole mess early next week.  Part of me resents returning to the "real world" so soon, but after sitting at home gestating and crying and hoping and spending waaaaaaay too much time online trying to figure out my baby's odds and reading far too many infertility blogs and miscarriage blogs and boards and sites, I can tell you that obsession isn't a terribly pretty place either.  I don't believe that the road of healing will be easy, but I at least know that it exists.

The Top 10 Reasons to avoid "Pregnancy & Sex" bulletin boards

Being pregnant, I decided to join a website that has info on what's happening this week in the baby's development, articles, and some boards to talk to other expectant parents.  This judgement call, while somewhat questionable, is not a totally crazy one.  I can not, however, defend my decision to go onto the boards and read/post on the sex and pregnancy threads.

I present below, in no particular order, the top 10 reasons why all sex god/desses (such as yourselves, and me, of course) should NEVER EVER EVER go on sex and pregnancy threads on a traditional pregnancy site.

TEN-The men who bitch that they haven't gotten laid in X days/months/years

Seriously.  There are loooooooong threads started by men who haven't gotten laid in a long time asking for "help" to rekindle their sex lives.  Any attempts to actually provide them with help will result in a lecture about how their wife wouldn't accept oral or any kind of sexual touch.  They are only looking to bitch and commiserate with other men who aren't getting any.

NINE-The women who believe their husbands should be grossed out by delivery and never want to fuck them again.

I have one word for a man like this.  Pussy.  Sexyhusband will be in the delivery room (his choice), and will be counting the seconds until I can fuck him again so he can worship the pussy that not only fucks him well but just pushed his child into the world.  Delivery should be a moment of awe and reverence for the power of women, not a revolting horror show that makes you never want to fuck your woman again. 

EIGHT-The women who whine that their sex drive has tanked and they don't want it anymore but their awful husbands want to be sexual.

I will be the first to agree that pregnancy can do a number on your libido.  However, in the event that you don't want to have intercourse, there are these things known as hand jobs and blow jobs.  When those feel like too much work (or your gag reflex is feeling overly sensitive), why not read erotica to him out loud?  Or tell him a sexual fantasy while he jerks off.  Or even just sit there and smile and cuddle your husband while he jerks off?  I realize this is shocking but there are ways to be sexually connected that don't involve intercourse.

SEVEN-Everyone assumes everyone else is straight.

Because bisexual women turn straight once they've got that man juice working its magic in their uterus, and gay women can't get knocked up, duh!  :roll eyes:

SIX-Lube is a bad word

When one woman complained that she wasn't lubricating, I encouraged her towards a good brand of water-based lube.  She was horrified, and explained to me that only harlots would use such a product.

FIVE-Women who think sex will hurt the baby

It's living in a fluid filled sac in your uterus, which is then protected by your stomach muscles, and any fat you might have on your abdomen.  Sex doesn't hurt the baby.  If you are among the miniscule number of women who are high risk and shouldn't be having sex, your doctor will tell you.  Until you hear that, it's safe and it's fun.

FOUR-Women who refuse to have sex with their husbands, and then are furious when the men turn to porn.

I don't even know where to start with this.  You won't fuck your husband.  So your husband decides to watch a special movie with his right hand.  And you get furious.  Would you prefer he fucked someone else outside the house and without your knowledge?

THREE-Women who think getting pregnant turned them into the Virgin Mary

The women who believe that having sex while pregnant is icky.  They see their blessed state as one that should not be despoiled by such dirty things as sex, or farting (A word of advice, for you, Mary....while you can refuse the former, you're gonna do the latter, so get over it already)

TWO-People don't understand your snark

One of the "sex will hurt the baby, right?" women posted that question and I, annoyed as hell, replied that if its safe to do BDSM after the 20th week, vanilla sex was certainly fine.  She then posted 3 replies---what's BDSM, what's vanilla sex, I need a dictionary---which made me want to bang my head against a wall repeatedly.  If you need to ask what vanilla sex is, honey, you're having it.

and the number one reason all sex positive people should stay away from these boards

ONE-You will be come obsessed with the following question---How did such a sex-negative group of people manage to conceive anyways?

The lack of sex positive people on such a board was perhaps the most depressing experience of the past several months (which, really.....is saying something).  I wish that there was a board for people such as us, who are very sex positive who want to talk about sex and pregnancy, and maybe someday there will be, but this isn't the place to look for them.  What I need is a site that talks about doing BDSM safely during pregnancy, the ettiquette of the pregnant threesome, and other useful articles/topics such as those.

I suffered so you don't have to.  Take my advice and stay far far far away from these boards.

A pregnant threesome?

Sexyhusband has been advocating for another threesome recently.  Because of the stress of the jobhunt and all, my emotional security hasn't been at an all time high, so I said it wasn't the best idea.  Discovering that I'm pregnant makes this decision easier and harder.

Easier because with the nauseau and such, it's out of the question for the moment.  I'd hate to schedule something and then have to cancel last minute or stop having fun.  I'm open to the idea during my second trimester, when many have assured me that sex is at its best and the first trimester morning sickness is a distant memory.

However, I'm only willing to entertain the idea of a m/f/f threesome (I know, poor Sexyhusband), which in and of itself is rather strange.  It's not like there wouldn't be condoms in a m/m/f threesome, but viscerally, it just strikes me as wrong for me.  I don't know if it's that I feel like a woman is less threatening (and I don't even know what I mean by "threatening") or that she'd have more compassion for my physical state, or what, but the idea of another guy just doesn't work for me.  From a purely logical perspective, it feels like it should be the ideal time to have a m/m/f threesome-I can't get pregnant, after all (yes, there's the risk of std's, which is probably part of my concern, but that risk isn't totally absent with another woman).  I'm just puzzled by this.

The truth is that if I tell Sexyhusband "no, I just can't handle this" he'll be fine with it, which makes it safe to play with the idea.  He has said however, that our first postpartum trip will involve San Francisco and Power Exchange, an idea that I think is inspired, especially if we limit the number of people in our bed to two for the next 8 1/2 months.

Has anyone here ever had a threesome with they, their partner, or their third were pregnant?  Can you share about the experience?

My evolving relationship with sex

Sexyhusband pointed out an article to me today about a team of researchers who are publishing their findings about why we have sex.   The University of Texas team is refining their research detailing why we do and don't have sex.  You can participate in their survey here.  I took it, and thought they're at least asking interesting questions.

Some highlights from the article...

To come up with the list, Meston and Buss asked 444 men and women, age 17 to 52, to list reasons why they, or people they've known, have had sex. They then had 1,500 undergraduate students at UT-Austin rank the reasons on a one-to-five scale of how often they applied to their experiences.

Twenty of the top 25 reasons given were the same for men and women, and the No. 1 for both was "I was attracted to the person."

You needed to do research to find that out????

In all, Meston and colleague David Buss catalogued 237 reasons, the most popular of which predictably involved lust and pleasure. But others ranged from "I wanted to feel closer to God" to "I wanted the attention" to "I wanted to keep my partner from straying."

A few respondents even said they wanted to give someone a sexually transmitted disease.

I'm really hoping I never slept with any of those people!

Meston, who is continuing to collect data for follow-up studies, acknowledged that college students' out-of-control hormones tilt the results. Future studies will focus on other age groups, ethnic groups and religious people.

Again, I'm shocked, SHOCKED to hear that college aged students are engaging in lots of sex and for many different reasons!!!!!

Okay, snark aside, I do think it's an interesting discussion to start having with yourself.  Why do you have sex, why do you not have sex, and how has that changed over the years?  Obviously, I can only really answer for myself.

I have, unfortunately fortunately kept a journal for most of my adult life.  Let us go back and explore the evolution of DN, and why she had sex....

Age 18, the night I lost my virginity---I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now.  X and I took care of that pesky virginity thing.  I'm not sure if we made love or had sex.  Or if it matters which of the two it was.  I hurt. When he entered me it hurt a lot.  I bled.  I'm still bleeding.  Am I totally unreceptive?  I didn't feel anything.  I like being close with him, and I love the way he touches me.  But it wasn't great.  M told me that it would be better next time.  Am I slut?  Or was I just ready to try sex and X was the lucky man?  I mean it's only our second date.  I feel kind of like crying, but only halfway.  I just want it to feel better........Mostly I feel really young and inexperienced.

I don't think we'll need to call in Dr. Freud on this one.  I was 18, scared that I was the last virgin left, and I'd broken up with my first "in love" boyfriend (the one I thought I was going to lose it to) a month before.  I wanted to feel grownup and cared for, so I did what I thought would accomplish that.  Obviously it didn't. 

18 was the effective start of a little period of my life that is best described as having sex for validation.

Witness the journal entry a month after losing my virginity, after a really bad day--I probably haven't had sex in a month because no one wants me.

This is the exact attitude I was railing again in the fat can be sexy post.  I see someone in need of an attitude adjustment.  The sad part is, just an entry previously I'm talking about fitting into a size 16 and whining about it, and 3 sizes bigger and a boatload of confidence later, I just want to give my younger self a hug.

About a year later, I at least took a step in the right direction when I realized something about my freshman boyfriend.  "I wanted the security of a boyfriend.  I didn't love him.  I just wanted to.  He was cute and sweet, but there was no spark."

Unfortunately, that brief moment of insight was followed by the internet boys in other states.  I loved them soooooooo much, and every single one of them was "the one," especially the one who wrote me (bad) poetry.  It was really easy to "fall" for them because they were just one step down from hollywood crushes-slightly more real, but not really any more attainable.  But in a weird way, those relationships all helped to raise my confidence, little by little.

When I was 20, I was my boyfriend at the times first lover.   "I didn't have the intention of letting sex happen.  A little going down, some making out.  You know, all the great 'almost' stuff."  This was the first time I felt like I had some power or control in the relationship.  Unfortunately, I didn't learn that lesson that a woman always has power, and decided that it was because I was a year or two older than my boyfriend.

Before I went abroad, I landed my first completely casual hookup.  "Best of all, he took my mind off France for awhile."  I was learning that sex didn't have to be about validation (at least not all of the time) and could sometimes be about distracting yourself from something unpleasant happening in your life.  I realize that going to France isn't exactly unpleasant, but it was going to the be first time I ever flew on a plane and I was certain I was going to D.I.E.

Of course that summer was when I made my biggest sexual mistake, all because I wanted to nail a European guy. *headdesk*  Almost makes me long for the days of sex as validation.

From there we progress to dating my boss because I was 20 and stupid.  That led into having revenge sex to piss my (ex at least) boss/boyfriend off after he blew me off for New Years.

From there I hooked up with a guy who was sweet to me and would yell at me me when I put myself down.  The problem was that he was doing friends with benefits and I was falling for the only guy who'd ever really forced me to claim my own self worth.  Plus he gave amazing oral.    There were various other men in that period of time that I fucked for reasons ranging from "he's there and I'm bored" to "he's so pretty" to "he wants me"  (which was backsliding, I know). 

Then there are all the men that I don't remember, but I apparently had sex with them, according to my early 20's self.

"I doubt I have much to offer, but a new love affair might just put the spring back in my step and get me in a good mindframe for the long year ahead.  I don't have a lot of time, but hell if I'll be a nun."

I started to wake up to what I was doing around my senior year of college, and I said to my journal that "I jump into sex early-always.  I don't know if it's because of X (the guy I lost my virginity to) and now I feel as though I have to or ifts because I need to prove that I'm tough and don't need anything from them (sex as a protective shied?  you can't hurt me-you're just a fuck?) or I use it as a means of distraction so they won't get too close?.....Sometimes I feel like I'm behind all my friends who've been dealing with dating and sex for years longer than I have.  It's like intellecturally I can hold my own with any adult, but sexually I'm back in high school."

Perhaps it wasn't the most organized thought, but I was starting to think about why I had sex and attempting to identify and weed out the unhealthy reasons.

Then came a downfall.  I met a guy who had big red flags waving around him (just broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years) but because he was "out of my league" attractive, I jumped into a cycle of dating and sex/breakup/be "friends"/starting sleeping together/repeat for a little over a year.  I had no illusions that this was a BAD IDEA, but I did it anyways because I was so over the moon that a brutally hot guy wanted me that I just didn't care if I should want him.  So much for progress.  Luckily, I moved out of state, which finally broke the cycle.

I had one sexual affair when I lived in my new state.  A one night stand, again because the boy was just sooooooo hot that I had to have him.  Luckily, I/we weren't stupid enough to get on the same fucked up merrygoround I'd just gotten off of, and we're still casual friends today.

There's a big gap in my journals, and then I casually mention that I had sex with my first girl.  Two sentences and then I say "I have no interest in pursuing anything with another woman at this time," which is just so pretentious and adorable I have to laugh.

Over the next five years I finally grew out of sex as validation. 

It's funny because the older I've gotten, the simpler sex has become.  When I was 18/19/20, each encounter was such a huge deal and I analyzed it to death.  These days, the only sex I dwell on is the particularly mindblowing experiences.  I don't worry about my sexual orientation anymore, and I've long since learned how to distinguish between sex and love, something I obviously had no grasp of for the longest time.  Every time I fucked a boy I agonized in my journal over whether or not I was in love with him.  If I wasn't, I despaired if it made me slut. 

Reading through those journals really hit home for me, because it made me realize just how screwed up my relationship with sex was.  I also cringed, laughed at myself (I especially love the part when my 19 year old self declared that SHE was never going to get married or have kids because they'd shackle her to the earth when she wanted to soar--I just about fell off my chair laughing), and wanted to give my younger self a hanky and hug and to reassure her it would all get better.

These days, the reasons I have sex are much easier to understand.  They range from raging lust to I'm bored to I'm tired but can't fall asleep.

The reasons I don't have sex are equally easy these days.  I'm sick, or I'm too tired or stressed, and I don't freak when I'm not in the mood. 

I'll be honest that this entry went far off topic from where I was planning, but I've decided to keep it in all its rambling glory. 

I'd be especially interested if anyone else wants to share in the comments about how they've evolved sexually over the years.

Kink and relationships

A blog friend has been pondering the introduction of his kinks to his new lover, which got me thinking about my own relationships and how kink can/should/shouldn't be introduced.

Arguably I began playing with kink with the same guy I lost my virginity to.  He talked me into anal sex, and being young, vulnerable, and desperate to please, I consented to.  It wasn't really a healthy introduction to kink, and I was scared and hurting and wanting it to be over, which is the antithesis of what a healthy kink should be.

When Sexyhusband and I got together, I was scared that he might be "too vanilla" for me.  I knew that I liked a little kink, but I was considerably more sexually experienced that him.  I was worried that he might never be able to dominate me, or that he might not enjoy calling me a naughty little slut.  But rather than whip out the toys and kink on the first date, I waited until we'd been sexual for a month or so.  He'd read my stories on Lit (which, if you read enough of them, clarify that I do like my kink), and we started talking about sexual fantasies.  We experimented and slowly moved into kinky territory, and both of our sexual boundaries have grown because of it.

I don't think anyone is truly vanilla.  Even if it's just the occasional dirty talk or a slap on the ass, you like something a little kinky.  There are extremes, of course-even as I try to be open minded, it does bother me a bit to think of a friend who does the 24/7 submissive/master thing with her husband.  Most of us fall somewhere in the middle.

It can be intimidating to introduce your kink to a new lover, and perhaps moreso to an old lover.  However, when I talk to people who are feeling sexually alienated in their marriages, a common theme is that they want to do something kinky that they're certain their partner would never do.  I'll ask them if they've asked and they tell me no.

With that in mind, I humbly offer up the DN guide to introducing Kink into your relationship.  To keep my topic narrow, I'm concentrating on introducing Kink to someone you actually plan on keeping around as more than a fuckbuddy.  I may use the pronoun "he" or "him" but that's because I'm writing from my own perspective-insert the pronoun of your partner if it makes you happy.  These are general suggestions, and I make no promises.

1-Don't introduce it right away. 

Bringing kink into a relationship requires that trust be established.  Regardless of the heady lust of a new relationship, the truth is that you just haven't been together long enough to *really* trust them to tie you up and understand what you want.  It will depend on your relationship, but I encourage you to wait at least a month before breaking out the toys.  I'm not saying you've got to fuck in missionary with the lights off, but fingers should be used before the butt plug is broken out, you know what I'm saying???

2-Think about how you're going to introduce your milder kinks to your partner first.

There are a variety of ways to bring up kink to your partner.  You'll need to talk it over eventually, but if you just want to get the ideas out there, there are several ways to go.  You can talk in person, you can IM if it's easier, or write them an email/letter.  I'm a big fan of writing a fantasy and sharing it with them, asking them "what do you think of this?"  You want to do something that will open the lines of communication in a way that doesn't freak either of you out.  I strongly encourage you to start with something like talking dirty or light spanking, or having them hold your hands over your head (rather than tie you up).  Even if you prefer to be the submissive, you may have to take the lead for awhile. 

3-Talk.  Talk.  Then talk some more.

Talk and be clear about what you really want.  Don't say "talk dirty to me."  That can be intimidating to someone who isn't used to doing it.  Give them a few examples of what you like.  Some women like being called sluts and other only want to be naughty girls.  You need to be specific.  Your partner, in the end, really does want to please you-it's your job to give them a road map.  I strongly encourage the discussion to happen in bed.  That way you can be touching, and talking can be arousing in and of itself-it helps sent the mood.

4-Be open to what they want in return.

It can be scary to try something new sexually.  Make sure you find out what they want in return and even if it's something you've never done, be open to trying it.  After all, you're asking them to try something new for you.  Turn about is fair play, and the more you give, the more you get.

5-Understand that it make be a little awkward at first.

When Sexyhusband first tried to dominate me, I worried that he wasn't ever going to be as forceful as I wanted.  He's gotten better with time.  There have been scenes we've tried that just didn't work.  You need to understand that it's natural and doesn't mean you shouldn't keep trying.  Don't give up on expanding your (and your partner's) horizons.

6-Give your partner feedback throughout and afterwards.

It's important for you to give your partner feedback.  They need to know if you want to be hit harder.  Did you like it when they called you a whore?  (Respond, "yes, yes I am your little whore").  Feedback encourages them to do what you like.  Afterwards, make sure that you praise them and thank them for trying.

7-Understand that it's never too late to try.

Even if you've been married for 10 or 20 years, I argue that you can try to spice things up.  Your partner may be surprised, but once you give it some time to sink in, they will (hopefully) become more open to what you want.  Especially when you're offering something in return.

8-Slowly introduce more kink over time.

Once your partner is open to some kink, push it a little farther, like moving from holding your hands over your head to actually tying your hands together or using handcuffs (personally, I recommend Japanese Bondage Rope-it doesn't leave marks).  Make sure that they're comfortable with each new step, and remember to take a step for them as well.  Never let the lines of communication go down on this.

9-Be okay with the idea that your partner may not like all your kink.

Personally I don't like shit play.  If Sexyhusband asked me to do it, I'd say no.  I wouldn't be open to trying it, even for the loss of the purity test points.  Just not happening.  Understand that your partner will have limits, too.  Keep in mind there's a difference between being open a little to certain things and having lines.  Lines need to be respected.

10-If it doesn't work this time, try again in a little while.

It's difficult to judge when your partner's boundaries are ready to be pushed.  If they're not comfortable with something now, try again in a month or two.  Try to figure out the difference between "no, I'm not sure" and "no way in hell, mister."  I never thought I'd be open to a gang bang, but I could hardly say that now.  People's boundaries are fluid, and it's always fine to test one, as long as you respect hearing the word "no."

Best of luck, and remember-always have a safe word, and don't forget the aftercare.

Feel free to add your own tips below.

Happy Anniversary, Sexyhusband

This blog is about sex.  My sexual adventures, my sexual politics, and other assorted erotic experiences.  But every once and awhile, I get warm and fuzzy.  Today is one of those days.

Sexyhusband,

I'm grateful for every day we have together.  There were points in my early twenties when I was certain that I would grow old alone with my cat, dating and fucking my way through all the wrong men of the world.  When we first began dating, you know it freaked me out because I'd read "He's just not that into you," and was looking for clues, and the only clues you gave me were that you were into me, period.  I kept waiting for you to be a jerk, like every other guy before you, and all you did was prove to me over and over that you loved me without reservation.

As our love and trust deepened, we became more open with each other than we'd ever been with anyone in our pasts.  Emotionally, I let you into the deepest parts of my heart.  Physically, I did what I'd never done with a previous boyfriend and moved in with you.  I didn't even get *too* upset when my cat decided she liked you better than me.  Sexually, you've unlocked so many doors I kept locked to my lovers out of fear that they would disdain what was inside.  The reward  has been the richest and most exciting sex life I could ever imagine; occasionally beyond what I could imagine.

I never dreamed that anyone would find both my geeky and my girly sides appealing, but you do. 

Because of that, I've given you myself completely.  My heart, my future, my body.

Why I love you is a list that's too long to comprehend, but some of the reasons are...

-Your brains-you are the only man I've ever met who I feel I have to work hard to keep up with intellectually, and I love it.  Whether we're arguing politics, 80's cartoon minutiae, books, history, or you're holding forth on some Sciencey/Computerish thing, you stimulate me and make me work hard to win a debate.

-Your heart-Your capacity to love and your desire to look out for our friends and family show your capacity to love.  Do you remember how, on one of our early trips after I'd moved in, YOU were the one who suggested we buy the cat a present to make up for being away, and the way you sheepishly admitted you missed her?  When I see you with our niece, it makes my heart melt, and I know that you'll be an amazing father when the time comes.

-Your commitment to our future-I sometimes get annoyed with your constant eyeing of the budget, and our savings, but you care deeply about being able to buy a house for our family, and our ability to send our kids to college, and retire.  You also are committed our marriage and have proven time and time again that our marriage comes first.

-Your sensuality-You've never once condemned any sexual impulse of mine, and as a result I've given access to every nook and cranny of my sexuality.  To think I was once worried that you might be too vanilla for me!  In our time together, you've opened yourself up to BDSM, anal play, and have a lengthy list of adventures you're willing (even eager) to try.

Happy anniversary honey; even though the corset was a great gift, the best gift you give me is yourself, every day.

love,

Deliciously Naughty

Tomorrow we return to our regularly scheduled sardonic DN  that you all adore.

Being alone

There are two or three weeks a year when Sexyhusband has to be out of town on trips and I am unable to go with him because of school.  This is one of those weeks.

Having Sexyhusband out of town throws me off balance.  I'm certainly used to coming home to an empty house.  I'm even used to falling asleep alone.  I'm not used to going to bed without cuddles.  I'm not used to waking up alone.  I'm not used to being unable to call him whenever I want.  I'm not used to the apartment staying the way I've cleaned it.

It's weird.  I've always enjoyed my alone time.  In fact, one of the big issues in my past relationships was my intense need for alone time.  But when my husband disappears for a week at a time I feel a little lost.

Sexually, being alone brings out my silver bullet and my fantasy boyfriends.  Largely, my fantasies have starred Josh from the West Wing recently.  His dimples just kill me.  I just adore the idea of him taking me up against a wall at a campaign event, or on his desk (or maybe in the oval office?).  I'm also a big fan of Kal Pen (Kumar from "Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle") who also has killer dimples.  Right this second I'm watching Tivoed episodes of "Judging Amy" and it has not escaped my notice that the guy who plays Vincent also has the dimples.  I have no resistance to the dimples--they turn me into a puddle of Deliciously Naughty goo.  I see a foursome in my sexual fantasy future...

The truth is that these business trips aren't all bad.  It's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I'd like to think I'm more appreciative of my husband when he gets back, but he'll have to comment on that.  While I'm aware of how great he is, I'm still guilty of taking him for granted and being cranky at him.   

But for the next 4 days, it's just me, my many many sex toys, and my fantasy men.

Failing to have sex

Even the most godlike sexual beings have off days...

It's lowering to admit that last night I dragged Sexyhusband into the bedroom with every intention of ravishing him, and then failed to seal the deal.  What happened?  We lost the mood.  Somewhere between trying to seduce him with "Math Porn" (hint, it's standard deviations not standard derivations-getting the terminology wrong isn't sexy) and discussing whether or not I should relieve one of his friends of his hypothetical virginity (and accidentally implying that said friend might be smarter than him) and my inability to stop laughing, the mood disappeared.   There was no getting it back, and once we accepted that, we went out into the living room to watch a tivoed episode of Gilmore Girls.

Having admitted this publically, I'm worried that Radical Vixen will show up at my door and revoke my sex blogger credentials. 

But on the other hand, it's something we've all experienced, and I haven't seen a lot of bloggers talk about it.  Bad sex (or no sex) happens to everyone once and awhile.

My first encounter with sex that didn't go off the way it should was in college.  I had been fighting with my roommate and in order to get away, called Fauxcop (a volunteer policeman who I was dating at the time).  It took him 45 minutes to get to my dorm (during which the fight with the roommate intensified) and then it took us forever to find a no-tell motel to hook up and crash in.  By the time we crawled into bed, we were both exhausted.  We made some cheap efforts to paw at each other, but Mr. Happy just wasn't feeling the love.  Fauxcop got pissed at me and claimed that since it had never happened to him, it was my fault.  I got pissed in return and explained in detail how much he had to learn about giving oral.  We didn't handle it well, and we didn't go out again either.

Obviously, the first time it happens no one handles it well.  He felt emasculated, I felt humiliated, and we both lashed out.  In fact, if I recall correctly, I went out and had a one night stand within a week or two just to feel as though I were sexually attractive again, which was hardly healthy.

The other memorable "failure to have sex" was with Sexyhusband.  It was during the period of time when we were planning our wedding.  We were both trying to have sex, but he was thinking about work and I was mentally debating flowers or some such nonsense and our bodies responded to the fact that our heads weren't in the game.  It was the first time that had happened to him, and his initial reaction was to turn away from me, ashamed.

This time I reacted correctly.  Instead of taking it personally, I turned over and held him, refusing to let go.  We didn't have sex that night, but it was the first time in a while that we'd connected about things other than the fucking wedding (which was its official title) or if we were moving and the other mundane plagues we were discussing to death.  As a result of the emotional connection we made that night, all systems were go in the morning.

In the years that I've been with Sexyhusband, there have been instances where I couldn't get wet (and I'm one of those women who get extremely wet with little stimulation) or one/both of us couldn't get my/our head/s in the game.  We've learned not to take it personally, and to work around it.

Which brings me to my thoughts on failing to have sex.

First of all, it happens to all of us.  I'd love to tell you that I'm a 24/7 sex kitten, but I'm not, unless I'm writing parody.  It's mid May now, and I've got just a little over a month of school left, including two weeks of state mandated testing.  That kind of stress coupled with a job hunt, and an upcoming apartment hunt have made me regard our bed with a burning lust for sleep, not sex.  When you're focused on major work/life stuff, your sexual energy usually goes to the place where you need it, and the mojo disappears for a short time.

Secondly, a good partner is one who won't make you feel bad about it.  It's embarrassing, even if you know your partner isn't pissed.  When you react badly to your partner falling out of the game all you do is compound the pressure and even create some fear the next time you have sex, ironically upping the chance it will happen again.  Being loving and understanding is key.

Thirdly, it's not a big deal if it happens in the short run.  If it's been a while, you probably do have a reason to talk to someone.  There are plenty of drugs/conditions that kill your sex drive-having been on anti-depressants, it's something I know about.  There was actually a period of several months where I didn't even masturbate, much less have sex because of the anti-depressants.  When I finally clued into that, I talked to my doctor and changed my meds and it helped.  I'm not on meds now, but when I do go through depressive spells, my sex drive tanks.  New mothers are also likely to experience radical changes in their sex drives and don't always know how to handle it.  For example, I've read a lot about post-birth vaginal dryness, and I know I can take it personally when I need lube to help things along now (pre kids).   

Fourthly, keep your faith in your own sexuality.  You will get the mojo back.

Personally, I'm planning to get my mojo back tomorrow night after my post-school nap.

Wish me luck ;)

Sexyhusband puts up with a lot

A simple and profound truth about me...

I'm not the easiest woman in the world to be with.

When I actually sit back and contemplate what I'm like as a person, it occurs to me that Sexyhusband puts up with a lot of stuff.  Now, don't get me wrong-this isn't a DN beats herself up post.  Sexyhusband gets a hell of a wife in return-I cook divinely, I can put together a sexy little outfit, I'm a good conversationalist on a frighteningly wide number of topics, I give to-die-for backrubs, and I'm a demon in the sack. 

However...

In return he puts up with with the fact that I'm a mercurial demanding bitch, a spoiled princess, and I have a small addiction fascination with the color pink.  Oh, and I LOVE Indian food, Hindi pop and Bollywood (and for a desi boy who loathes most things Indian, that's a hard one to swallow--his parents, of course, adore me for it.  One of us needs to pass the ethnic heritage on, afterall.)

As I was flipping through my iPod recently, it occured to me that the song I loved as a teen has come to embody me as a grown woman. 

I've bolded the parts that describe me exactly and annotated...

The Song?

Bitch

I hate the world today (I go around with loathing in my heart for large cross sections of the population.  In short, stupid people suck, and they seem to be breeding at far faster rates than even rabbits)
You're so good to me (Nauseating, but true.  Sexyhusband is amazingly good to me, both in putting up with my shit, and rubbing my back when I'm sobbing-even if it's over Gilmore Girls or some other stupid thing, and does a million little things for me constantly)
I know but I can't change (Yeah, I've tried being sweet.  It makes me throw up in my mouth a little.  I'm a snark filled bitch-live with it, people)
tried to tell you but you look at me like maybe I'm an angel
underneath
innocent and sweet (Sexyhusband is under no such illusions)
Yesterday I cried
You must have been relieved to see the softer side (Please.  I cry at the drop of a hat)
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you (For the record, I would NOT date me)
I'm a little bit of everything
all rolled into one

Chorus:
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover (And damn good at both)
I'm a child, I'm a mother  (I'm my mother's child, but I'm not a mother)
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint  (According to the Catholics I am the former and not the latter)
I do not feel ashamed  (Damn you occasional residual Catholic guilt)
I'm your health, I'm your dream 
I'm nothing in between  (Ambivalence and I only have a passing acquaintence)
You know you wouldn't want it any other way  (Sexyhusband, bite your tongue)

So take me as I am (I said it in the personal ad, no backing out now)
This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man (Many have tried and failed)
Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous
and I'm going to extremes
tomorrow I will change
and today won't mean a thing (Me? Mercurial?  Oh, just a wee bit)

Chorus

Just when you think you've got me figured out
the season's already changing  (Except on polarizing social issues and the color pink, oh so true)
I think it's cool you do what you do
and don't try to save me (Sexyhusband is remarkably tolerant of my mercuriality-perhaps not a real word, but I'm declaring it to be one)

Chorus

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease (We've established that I'm a bitch---I'm also a total cocktease, and I like it)
I'm a goddess on my knees (You know you'd kill to find out for yourself)
when you hurt, when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover (For all that I'm a bitch, when I care about you, and you're hurting, I drop everything)
I've been numbed, I'm revived
can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way

So yeah...Sexyhusband, you put up with a lot.  And you've lasted twice as long as any other guy.  For your reward...you get me.

I'm waiting in the bedroom.....

My thoughts on Circumcision

I have to admit that before I met Sexyhusband, I always just assumed that I would have my sons (not that I'd have any, no sir--I was going to have girls) circumcised.  All but two penises (penii?) in my sexual past were circumcised, and it just seemed like what you're supposed to do.  I also had heard that if an uncircumsized man didn't have good genital hygeine, the extra foreskin would create a deathly smell and there wan an increased risk of infection for him and by extension, his partners.

The truth is that I never really gave it a lot of thought.  The little thought I did give it had a lot more to do with aesthetics than anything else.  Having mostly encountered the "snipped" look, a penis with foreskin just looked...well....weird.  Watching a penis with foreskin become erect reminded me of putting on a sock, but you can't get the toes to line up so it's all sort of floppy at the end.  The mental picture this inspires makes me snicker, even now. 

As most men will tell you, a woman's laughter is not the appropriate reaction to an erect penis.

So, yeah.  Circumcision all the way.

The first uncircumcised penis I saw was in New York, and belonged to a hot guy I met at a get together.  We had one night together and then occasionally ran into each other online or in person.  Since it was hardly any sort of meaningful relationship (or a relationship, period) we never had any in depth talk about the whole foreskin/no foreskin debate. 

I remember that upon removing NYC's boxers, I was surprised and a little unsure of what to do with this unexpected extra bit at the end of Mr. Happy.  NYC gave me some advice, and I was soon manipulating him with zest. 

The second uncircumcised penis belongs to Sexyhusband.  I can't recall the circumstances of my first knowledge of his status, and sadly it's unmemorable enough that neither of us can remember if we talked about it before I saw it or what.  Apparently after the first one, it's all old hat.

I was, however, surprised that when we first started talking about having children that Sexyhusband was very definite that no son of his would be circumcised.  His take is partially ego centric (he's not, so why would he do it to his son).  He's done some research about the pleasure centers located in the tip.  Finally, his exact comment when I asked him for a blog quote is that "it's unnatural, a little...I grew this part of my body, why would you cut it off?"

As I don't possess a penis, I feel like this isn't a battle where I get to pick a side.  I'm fine with Sexyhusband's stance for our sons.  But the truth is, I'm not a hundred percent sure that if for some reason I was a single mom (and the kid wasn't Sexyhusband's---we're veering waaaaaay off into counterfactual land here) what I would do if it were only up to me.

Tomorrow, I promise not to talk about circumcision. 

Polygamy

I have to confess that I'm a fan of Big Love on HBO (season 2 starts 6/17) but the idea of sharing my husband with another woman on a day to day permanent basis just isn't okay with me.  For that matter, I have a hard enough time balancing my job, friends, writing and Sexyhusband without adding a second husband to the equation.  I'm also an only child who missed school the day they taught us about sharing.  So while I don't really have an issue with the concept, I won't be practicing it anytime soon.

Let's start with some definitions. 

Polygamy-the marriage of more than one spouse simultaneously without any gender identifiers.  Most commonly misused to mean one man with multiple wives.

Polygyny-the marriage of one man to multiple wives. (correct usage)

Polyandry-the marriage of one wife to multiple husbands

Polyamory-the practice of multiple serious relationships (which we're not discussing today to keep things focused)

Historically all three of the major world religions condoned polygyny and practiced it widely.  Today, only Islam still condones it, and it is most widely practiced in Africa (and Senegal in particular) although there are plenty of countries (largely in the Middle East) that still allow it.  The US outlawed it early on and forced the Mormons to give up polygyny before Utah could become a state, thus creating many splinter groups that still practice it today.

I have to admit that I'm a little jaded on Mormon polygyny.  It's in the news every once and awhile and usually for the more sensationalistic reasons-child brides, rape, and abandoning of young men so the older men could keep the women to themselves.  You never hear about polygyny that isn't doing something sensationalistic, which is perhaps one of the reasons Big Love is so popular.  It's polygyny presented in an everyday way.  Because banal doesn't make for good ratings there are all the secondary story lines that are more sensational. 

Polygamy an often enough discussed topic that the Salt Lake Tribune has a subsection of the paper devoted to it.  Fair or not, I generally consider most adult Mormons who practice it to have made a relatively informed choice.  If they want out, they can get out.  There are plenty of organizations like Tapestry against Polygamy to help the women who leave, and even if it means never speaking to their families again, they do have options in life.  If you're interested in how Mormonism got so intertwined with polygamy and how the gender dynamics got so fucked up in that religion, I'd recommend this well written article.

However, last week I was reading through my NY Times feed and saw an article about African polygyny being practiced in NYC.  Apparently it isn't uncommon for men who would've practiced polygyny back home to import second wives to the US.  As it is illegal, no one reports it because it could get the whole family deported.  The women involved have no say, and beyond deportation, can't report it because they don't get asylum here and would be deeply shamed back home.  They are, legally speaking, between a rock and a hard place.  So they don't speak out.

This is how we get to my ambivalence over polygamy.  I'm enough of a liberal that I generally feel that consenting adults have the right to do whatever they want with other consenting adults.  But the key words are consenting and adults.

The situation described by the NYT article is pretty much as low as it can go.  The law says that the practice is illegal, but if the woman reports it to try and gain some safety, she'll be punished along with the husband. 

When anyone is kept in a sexual situation by fear and without their consent, it's a travesty.  To those who say a 14 year old girl can give her consent for this type of marriage, I would say that she might think it's an appropriate course for her life, but until she's old enough to be married, she isn't eligible to give her consent.  And she should have the right to withdraw that consent later, should she change her mind. 

I wanted to present a balanced view of plural marriage, and it took a lot of searching to find pro-polygamy sites.  I found this message board, which was interesting to read through, particularly the section about sisterwives and sex.  I found out that August 19 is Polygamy Day.  I found this blog by a former plural wife (the other wife left via divorce) and public polygamy activist, and in her 8/01/05-9/01/05 section she talks about a potential sisterwife.  This blog is by a current plural wife.  Interestingly, everything I found was polygamy with a very religious (Christian) focus.  I'm not finding any polygamous blogs or sites aimed at polygamous couples that aren't uber religious.

I also found several far-right wing religious groups claiming that Pro-polygamy is the next civil rights battle to win.  I wonder if we could come to a deal-national acceptance of gay marriage in return for national acceptance of polygamy?  I doubt it would go over with anyone, but it seems to me like a good idea.  Of course, the Republicans freak out and say this is exactly why we shouldn't have gay marriage-it will lead to polygamy, which will lead to people marrying their microwaves.  I say that for a party who's platform is based on the concept of "tiny government," you're certainly pushing into my bedroom a lot.

Polyandry is extremely rare, and is apparently most common in Tibet.  I don't know why I found this surprising, but Tibet was not the culture that popped into my mind when I think of polyandry. The other countries I've found mentioned as having it historically are all also Asian.

What I find interesting is that the three major religions all explicitly forbid polyandry while condoning polygyny.  God shows up and condones marrying lots of women but he never shows up and says that women are the equal of men or should ever have power.  Taking into account that the texts were all written by men, I wonder if there's any connection?  Hinduism has at least one reference to polyandry and is fairly neutral on the topic. 

As with all things, my final thoughts on plural marriage are that as long as everyone has given their consent (and means it!) I don't see why the government should have an issue with it.  However, there should be protections in place to protect children, unwilling women (whether they are citizens or not) and unwilling men, and abused spouses.  No one should be ashamed of their family, if it's what works best for them.

Interracial Relationships

Again, thanks to Marvin, for making me think about interracial relationships.

I'm in an interracial marriage.

As I have mentioned before, Sexyhusband's parents immigrated to the US from India.  Sexyhusband was born here and grew up (mostly) in the US.  He isn't invested in Indian culture at all-he eats meat, eschews all religion, dislikes Bollywood, loathes the music and isn't all that fond of the food.  His parents have often joked that I'm more Indian than he is-I like the food, the movies, the music, the clothes and have learned some words and simple phrases in his parent's ethnic language.  So it often slips my mind that we're in an interracial relationship at all.

Sexyhusband isn't my first interracial relationship.  I've dated White guys, Latino guys and Asian guys.  I was always open to dating African American guys and flirted with plenty, but never ended up dating one.  At the end of the day, I've always been more attracted to intelligent, snarky, sexy guys.  And while there are physical traits that I look for and find more attractive, I've never closed myself off to a race.

I have, however, closed myself off to Conservatives, the very religious, and cat haters because they would never fit into my life.  If you hate my friends, believe they can't marry, or that my mom is going to hell because she had me out of wedlock, game over. 

My experiences with interracial friendships and relationships haven't been all roses and rainbows though.  I am sad to admit that I have a great aunt who doesn't believe that I should be friends with people of color, much less date outside my race.  When introducing Sexyhusband to my extended family, I genuinely was worried if anyone would be rude to his face.  We were also unsure about introducing me to Sexyhusband's extended family-I'm the first non-Indian member of the family and we weren't sure what my reception would be.  Sexyhusband makes sure that I am the person who hands our passports to the customs agents because he doesn't get searched on suspicion of being a terrorist when I do (he's brown, has longish hair-it happened a lot post 9/11).

I guess the thing that bothers me most when talking about interracial relationships is that most people jump to black/white couples.  When I read interracial erotica, it is almost always black/white.  It annoys me that there isn't a broader interpretation of what interracial relationships mean.  I've tried to counter it some with my own work, although it's only the fairly recent stuff, including a main couple whose racial makeup mirrors my marriage.

The white ideal reigns supreme in our pop culture, including porn.  As Marvin pointed out, many porn actresses don't do interracial scenes because it's common belief that it would lower their value.  For that matter, find me an American porn actress of Indian descent.  I doubt it's because there aren't any girls willing to do it. 

However, the worst incarnation of the white on white standard is the myth of the oversexed black male.  Dating back to the 18th and 19th century, there is a myth that has persisted saying that black men are oversexed and all want to do white women at any cost.  It persists today.  In the MA governor's race of '06, the Republican challenger issued a commercial insinuating that (now Governor) Democrat Deval Patrick would free all the rapists and black men to come and get the women of Massachusetts.  I was pleased to see the outpouring of rage from women's groups and the general public, refusing to buy into the propaganda.  I would hope that it is a trend that continues, with the public rejecting those racially biased sexual stereotypes.

I am proud that my generation and the one that is following mine have polled as seeing interracial relationships as normal (along with gay sex and marriage).  I can hope that it is a trend that continues, and over time we can finally see the propaganda as just that.