So we stop at the gas station at the corner, and there’s a dude pumping gas on the other side of the pump I’m using. He’s between the ages of 30 and 35, with brown hair and eyes, and looks like your average 30-something white dude, right down to the silver sedan he’s gassing up. That dude was you.

I didn’t think much of it. There’s often dudes pumping gas on the other side of the pump I’m using. They mind their side. I mind mine. We are, after all, just there to purchase gas.

You locked eyes with me as I walked to the pump. No big deal. Strangers lock eyes with each other by mistake and on purpose all the time.

Then, you turned to your wife and said, “All these girls going to the store by themselves every day. When [daughter’s name] is old enough, if she doesn’t have a boyfriend, I will be taking her to the store. She’s not going to be running around this area on her own.”

And I stood there, stunned into silence. Read more…

Do you remember this post I wrote back in May 2013? I won’t blame you if you don’t. There are so freakin many posts with similar points floating around the sex blogosphere that even as I wrote it, I felt like one person in the middle of Times Square at the stroke of New Year’s trying to make sure my Auld Lang Syne was heard over everyone else’s.

Plus, that was almost two years ago. So, you know, I’ll pretend my feelings aren’t hurt. ~dramatic sniffle~

So I wrote it for a couple reasons (mentioned in the post), but the straw that broke the camel’s back was a flirty dirty old man from UniteBlue who kept hitting on me despite my polite attempts to shoot him down and constant reminders that I was happily, monogamously married. After I wrote the post, and tweeted it 903489825287234857 times in a passive-aggressive attempt to get the point across without dealing with a response a la #ByeFelipe, he stopped. I didn’t know if he realized he was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or if he just realized I wasn’t into what he was doing, and I didn’t care. He stopped. Hallelujah.

We still chatted from time to time in @s on Twitter. Usually about M’s back, or the no longer flirty man’s health conditions, or his girlfriend. And then, one day, early this year, he disappeared. Read more…

Please note: Some of this post is tongue-in-cheek (giant porno penises? I mean, we all know some of that is camera tricks, right?), but the overall message is serious. However, every bit of it is based solely on my perspective. I’m only speaking for me. I don’t know whether or not all porn stars, fetish writers, sex bloggers, or other people in the adult industry feel the same way. I’m guessing some of them do, some of them don’t. That’s usually how it works. Either way, if you’ve got something to add, or a differing opinion, or just want to say hi, drop it in the comments. We moderate because our spam filter isn’t catching all the spam. All comments will be posted as soon as they’re noticed.

So, the other day, Kelly Shibari tweeted this:

Dudes – porn chicks see enough penises at work to not want to see yrs on social media. Pls stop offering them. #PublicServiceAnnouncement

— Kelly Shibari (@KellyShibari) April 16, 2013

And I laughed. Poor fellas sending her all those dick pics. You’d think the very fact that hetero/bi/pan female porn stars spend the vast majority of their work day with dicks in their faces would be enough to deter some random dude from sending the stars pics of his own member.

I mean, first of all, how creepy can you be? We arrest men who run around flashing their penises at unsuspecting people in public, but on the internet, these dudes think it’s okay to send unsolicited dick pics to anyone they feel like it. Gross. I did not give my consent to look at your penis. I wouldn’t go shoving my vulva in your face without (permission from M) you asking for it. Don’t shove your dick in mine!  Read more…

Last year (I love saying that in January, as if what I’m talking about was more than a few weeks ago.), I posted about feminist fanatics refusing to look at reality when it hurts their cause.  A while ago, the opinion of this chick on the intarwebs prompted me to write feminist organizations asking for their stances on BDSM relationships.  But even through all that, I’m still not sure I’ve given a clear view of how I feel about the subject of feminism.

I’ve never said I’m not grateful for women’s liberation, or that I don’t believe in at least a part of their cause.  But as I’ve said before, I do take issue with someone who doesn’t even know I exist deciding what’s best for me.  And I think things are getting a little out of hand.

I don’t know whether or not I agree with the conviction that’s popping up everywhere, these days.  The belief that we no longer need the feminist movement.  I mean, on the one hand, I think things are getting a little out of control because, while not everyone involved in the feminist movement is trying to free women from even themselves, the ones who are are pretty outspoken.  Sometimes, they’re the only ones who can be heard.

On the other hand, there are still women in America (Not to mention other countries, but let’s be honest.  We have no right or responsibility to tell countries most of us have never even heard of, let alone visited or lived in, how they should live their lives.  Seriously.) who need help.  Who need someone to stand up for them.  I’m just not one of them.  Neither are any of my friends.

I guess it just irritates me that people are so presumptuous.  We appreciate your concern, but it’s not warranted.  You know?

I am absolutely for giving both men and women the right to choose how to live their lives.  I think we should all have equal rights if we want them.  I absolutely believe we should all be paid according to our skill set and not our gender (or race, or religion, or social status, or supposed birth right, or whatever).

I’ll admit, I used to fantasize about something resembling Gor.  But that’s just cause it gets my girl parts all hot and bothered.  I know the reality of things is that eventually, a world like that would implode on itself.  Why? Because the storyline is basically world history with a little sci-fi and extra sexism thrown in.  And we seem damn near on the verge of imploding on ourselves all. the. time.  It’ll happen one day.  I hope to whatever controls the fates, if anything, that it will be long after my line has died out.  Read more…

The boys around here have fine-tuned how to approach, lure and treat a woman.

They’ve figured out that most of the girls out here have daddy issues and low self esteem and a terrible fear of being poor and out of fashion.  They take one look at a girl and know exactly what to say and how to approach her and just what will catch her attention.  Usually, their motivation is the trophy.  The prize of having conquered yet another pretty face before their boys could.

And some of us – usually the older ones or the ones who are married – are smart enough to laugh at their advances and brush them off.  It’s fun to watch the “Oh shit.” expression cross their face.

Like yesterday.  M and I were walking down the street together, and we separated at the liquor store.  He was taking the stuff we picked up at the meat market up to the apartment, and I was grabbing a bottle of gin and one of peach champagne.  I said, “I’ll be up in a minute, babe.”  and M said something like, “I’ll be there.” or something.  And then I reached for the liquor store’s door.

Before my hand closed on the handle, another beat me to it and hefted the door open for me.  I smiled and thanked the guy, then stepped inside.  And he said something like, “How could I not with a smile like that?” and continued to go on about how pretty I am.

I laughed, thanked him for being nice and bee-lined for the champagne.  He was the more polite of the boys that compliment me when I go outside.  Some make suggestive comments.  Some tell me they don’t care that I’m married.

Some begin ogling me from a block away, doing that thing they do when they’re with their boys and checking a girl out.  You’ve seen it, I’m sure.  They’ll sort of turn to the side and cock their head.  And then, they come up with some excuse to approach me.  The last asked me for a cigarette.  And then if I was single.

I remember when every girl I knew would have been flattered beyond belief if men acted this way around them.  They’d go all pink in the cheeks and start ducking their heads and smiling a lot.  Their voices would get all high pitched and twittery and they’d giggle awkwardly at every. single. thing. that was said.  Read more…