I just know I’m going to get it for this, but here goes.

The ever-erudite and thought-provoking Orlando has got me thinking again. In an ongoing series of posts, he is examining privilege, entitlement, and the concept of slumming in the context of sexual power dynamics.

I recommend reading the series (though he charmingly and inaccurately calls them “tedious”), but the short version goes something like this. “Susie,” a traditional housewife profiled in the 1970’s conservative Baptist psychology book Sexual Sanity, is having a libido mismatch with her husband that is distracting her to the point of neglecting her duties in the home. The prescription is, of course, giving up the romance novels, soap operas, and masturbation, focusing on her marital duties, reading the Bible, oh, and maybe incidentally the husband should think about paying more attention to her.

Orlando points out that while these are people whose options were limited by their culture, lifestyle, beliefs, economics, and so on, he and Murre enact a kind of reversal of that traditional dynamic deliberately – in essence, slumming in a traditional provider/housewife arrangement. One of the going critiques of BDSM is, in essence, that we are performing a parody of relationships and power dynamics in which people have no choice: Orlando is at the laundromat writing his post while doing the household laundry because it is part of an elaborately negotiated D/s agreement; his neighbor, Rosa, is doing the laundry because that’s what’s expected of her by her husband, and what is simply done.

While these musings were interesting to me, it was really his last post that got me going. In it, he brings up the above point and adds commentary that he has collected from some radical feminist blogs: to wit, Nine Deuce’s tongue in cheek but extreme comment that males into BDSM dominance should kill themselves, and FactCheckMe’s analysis of MtF transexuals as merely men slumming as women.
(Don’t read that post, by the way, unless you want your head to explode. You have been warned.)

Orlando quite rightly points out that the telling people to renounce their privilege is pointless at best, dangerous at worst, if you give them no other options:

Radicals in general (I am not just speaking of radfems)…have focused on creating an elaborate critical literature to uncover the ways that privileged classes abuse their power in concealed ways, including the “inverted” abuse of slumming. Sheila Jeffries, to take a local example, is not simply critical of male dominance and male submission, she is critical of all male sexuality. Usually these sets of critiques are deployed to make people who deny that they are privileged realize that they are. But once someone acknowledges this privilege, the analyses remain underfoot, blocking any sort of coherent suggestion for further behavior.

At least, that’s the best version. In a darker version of things, the condemnation of all options becomes the suggestion. When 9/2 suggests that kinky men should kill themselves, she is sort of joking. When FCM tells MtF transexuals to “ke[ep] your dick and STFU,” she is not joking at all. But both authors arrive at their conclusion by systematically invalidating everything that the target class might do, either as entitlement or slumming or both. Behind 9/2’s suicide hyperbole is a genuine void left by her critiques: there is no course of action left for those men that she considers acceptable, and yet it is clearly important to her that they take her advice.

And this is where my frustration really sets in with the entire discussion – not with Orlando’s continued analysis, which you should totally read. But with what we talk about when we talk about privilege.

I am a white, Western, middle class bisexual cis-female. As such, I benefit from white privilege, cis privilege and class privilege, but not from male or heterosexual privilege. Honestly, I don’t think about that lack very much – not because it’s not important, but because I largely don’t feel my lack of that privilege in my day to day life.

I do frequently feel my own privilege, though: the ways I’m able to spend my days, the people I spend them with, the things I spend money on, hell, the money I even have. My education, my freedom, my ability, in short, to make choices.

In the endless and horrific comments to that made-of-fail post by FactCheckMe, she points out that what makes privilege privilege is the ability make choices.

I want to know exactly what’s wrong with that.

Hear me out. It seems to me that the radical movements that seek the destruction of the patriarchy and the liberation of women, minorities, and other oppressed people are missing the goddamn point, which is this: privilege is good. Power, for that matter, is good. Orlando writes, “We absolutely do not want the most privileged classes of humanity to exercise their power to its full, raw, extent.” And that is where he and I part ways.

You know what I want? I want everyone to be able to exercise their power to its full, raw extent. I don’t think that the way to empower some people is to take power away from others. I agree that pointing out privilege and making people aware of it such that they gain a greater understanding of the positions of oppressed people is an essential step for breaking down the monstrous inequalities that exist.

However. There is, as Orlando points out, nothing you can do once you’ve been made aware of your privilege. All you can do is understand that you can never understand.

So what next? Am I to go through life feeling constantly guilty that I can enjoy power dynamics and physical violence in a consensual way when there are so many people in the world who are abused? Am I, like some radical feminists, to give up penetrative sex entirely, even if I love it, because some women are raped? If part of male privilege, as FactCheckMe says, is being raised to believe that whatever you want or desire, however trivial, you can have it – does that mean I must never follow my own desires, especially not the frivolous ones?

People, this is backwards. The path to addressing privilege and ending oppression is not to remove even more choice from oppressed people. It’s to work to ensure choice for everybody.

Now, it’s facile and privilege-soaked to say such a thing, I know. But seriously? The only way to make sure that the subsistence farmer really wants to be there is to give him the opportunity to go to college and do something else. The only way to know that a woman is truly choosing stay-at-home-mom-hood is to open other possibilities through education and at-work childcare.

Which brings me to my next point, which is about the values we place on various types of life work.

Looking at, say, the subsistence farmer above and saying, oh, look how much better his life would be if he could go to college – that’s class privilege talking. But turning around and telling that college-educated person that he’s not allowed to become a subsistence farmer himself because that’s slumming – that’s ridiculous.

The problem here is partly one of choice, yes: in order for equality to truly exist, the presence of choice is paramount. But it’s also partly a problem of values: as a society, we automatically place a college education, a career in business, law or medicine, and the “earning” of vast amounts of money above learning a trade, raising children, keeping house, telling stories and growing food.

Which is to say: it is deeply problematic to pity a farmer because she never got a college education and became a doctor – even if that person had every opportunity to do so. Seeing someone’s lack of choice in the world and seeking to help correct it is a good thing. Seeing someone’s deliberate choice and deciding it’s wrong because of some misguided idea of wasted potential or perceived insult to those who do not have that choice available – that’s insanity.

Of course, if everyone had privilege, we couldn’t call it “privilege” anymore, as the word implies privilege above someone else. But “power”? There’s an entire philosophy around that. To borrow a phrase from Starhawk, what is desirable in this world is to increase everyone’s power-with rather than power-over. To help others, as best we can, to come into their own power – and express it in the ways that make the most sense to them.

The way to do this is not to take power away from others – power is not a zero-sum game, any more than love is. I submit to you that it is impossible to smash the patriarchy, to destroy white power, or to crush heterosexism. These are systems that are so entrenched, and belong so much to the majority, that they cannot be destroyed using force. But they can be phased out, little by little, if we fight to increase the power and agency of all people. The more people know, the more people are aware of and have access to all the opportunities and possibilities available in the human experience – the fewer people can be recruited to the dark side, brainwashed, or swept under by the tide.

I’m not saying that people won’t make bad choices, or be manipulated, or even – dare we say it – not be smart enough or strong enough to do the right thing. But that’s not the point. If we don’t allow people to choose – if we don’t even give them the benefit of the doubt that they have agency – then we’re totally screwed. If the patriarchy or whatever cultural force that’s like the water the fish are swimming in is so pervasive that we can’t trust human beings to have free will, then it’s going to just be one paternalistic ruling class after another telling us what’s right.

I don’t know about you, but that’s not the world I want to live in, however imperfect my current world is. Here’s what I’m working on: being the change I want to see in the world. I’ll skip the post-patriarchy and take a world where a poor man can choose to be a doctor, an orphan girl can grow up to be president, a university-educated person can choose to become a dairy farmer without ridicule or judgment, people across the gender spectrum can choose to play with power dynamics in intimate relationship to another person if that’s what turns them on, and in short – anyone can pursue their kind of happiness in peace, so long as it harms no one. (And by “harm” I mean “non-consensual harm,” not some goddamn cane marks.)

Maybe I’m just an idealist. Or soaking in privilege. I don’t know. Have at.

I was moved by the letter I got this week, and though it’s not topical in terms of kink, it’s a complex question about alternative relationships that might as well be discussed here as anywhere.

I welcome your questions, not only about kink, but about polyamory, bisexuality, and any other relational issues you think I can speak to. I can’t promise to know a ton about specifically gay, lesbian or trans issues, as it’s not the life I lead. But then again, Dan Savage answers straight people’s questions all the time, and most of the time I don’t really think that the issues of gay and lesbian folk in relationship are much different from anyone else’s. (Actually, I bet I have more in common with gays and lesbians in poly relationships than I have with straight or bisexual people in monogamous ones.)

To make a long story short: if you feel, whoever you are, like honoring me with your difficult questions, I’ll do my best to answer them well. And if it comes down to it, I’ll call in a guest expert, just like Dan would do. (Because ya know. Dan’s my hero.)

Dear Deliah:

I enjoy reading your column, and when I stumbled into an alternative relationship dilemma of my own, you were were the person I most wanted to consult.

I have been romantically involved with both members of a legally married couple for nearly four years. Although the husband and wife were together before I entered the arrangement, we let our own situations progress organically (I was never brought in as the hot bi babe, for instance) and consider all four relationships to be “on the same level.” There have been ups and downs, and I have been very concerned about matters like the possibilities of moving in and of having children with my partners.

I recently learned that my female partner miscarried after being pregnant for nearly two months. Although I have been doing my best to be supportive, I still feel hurt and rejected: I didn’t even know they were actively trying to get pregnant, nor that she had conceived. I know it’s good practice to wait a reasonable amount of time before informing others about a pregnancy, but I am supposed to be a part of their family.

I guess it goes without saying that I will need to address my feelings at an appropriate time. Do you have any suggestions for how to approach this topic with my partners? When should I go about bringing it up?

First of all, I’m sorry this happened to you, and very sorry that this happened to your partners. Miscarriages can be devastating, and above all it is important that you not make this too much about you: I have no doubt that they’re already going through a lot of pain.

With that said, it sounds like the three of you do have a deeply intertwined relationship – the fact that you reference “four relationships” shows that you know how many dynamics are at play here – and if it really is as you say it is, it’s probable that you had a right to know, and a right to be upset about it.

There are a few possibilities at play here in terms of what has already occurred. One is that she became pregnant by accident; it happens. Once that happened, she might have felt it best to keep it under wraps until the traditional first-trimester mark; as she miscarried, this was probably a good plan in terms of causing the least amount of pain for others.

The other possibility is more sad, but needs to be taken seriously. You say they were together before you, but that you are all considered equals in the relationship. It is entirely possible that this isn’t really as true as you think it is. Even in triads where the third person is brought into the home, involved in a commitment ceremony, etc. – it takes some time and effort for that person to reach the same level of intimacy and equal-partner status as the married couple already had together. If you aren’t living with them, and the relationship is, as you say, up and down, it’s not likely that you really are an equal partner, not in the way they are to each other. They’ve been together for longer, have chosen to live together, chosen to get married, and finally, chose to get pregnant – without consulting you.

What this may be is a sign that you are not in the relationship(s) you think you are in.

I want to tell you to address your concerns with them directly, but I also want to be extremely sensitive to what they’ve just been through. They have a right to that, regardless of how they handled the information.

Just as they probably would have allowed three months before revealing the information to others, I recommend giving them three months before you bring it up. If one of them brings it up before then, great. But I think it’s going to be really rough to address this question while they’re still in the midst of early grieving.

When you do bring it up, gently is the best way. Have dinner with them both one night. Remind them how much you love them, and how you’ve long wanted to make a family with them. And finally, just ask, in a spirit of curiosity and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

I warn you that the answer you get is going to be pivotal for how your relationship looks going forward. But as you’ve already surmised, it’s something you have to do.

Sorry to give such a downer answer. Let me know how it goes.

I’m out of questions again. Email me your questions, or comment!

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Tuesday advice languishes again, I’m afraid, and why? Because all y’all don’t have enough problems.

That is, I’m out of questions again. Help a sister out, will ya?

My advice to you this week, then, is to hie thee to the new blog, Topologies. It’s a spankin’-new space where me and two other awesome dominant women discuss and redefine what it means to be a dominant woman.

Go. Tell your friends. And send me questions!

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Sometimes I get the tough questions. Sometimes I get the easy ones. I’ll be grateful and consider today a vacation in honor of Thanksgiving week.

Dear Delilah,

Not sure if you’ve answered this or not but someone asked me the other day what kind of kinky things he can do with his gf without leaving marks (it’s a poly thing; her primary doesn’t want to see marks). Spanking is a favorite, but she bruises very easily…

Your “friend” (I’m kidding; I’m sure it’s actually your friend and not you. Really. And you’re not the girlfriend either. I mean it!) can do pah-LEN-ty of kinky things without leaving marks. You can tie someone up, down or sideways without leaving marks, though if you’re using rope, you might get some rope marks if you’re not careful. (I’m hesitant to call these “ligature marks” as some are fond of doing, since a cursory Intarwebs search indicates that that terminology refers only to strangulation.) You can interrogate someone all you want and leave no marks at all. You can collar someone, have them kneel at your feet, have them serve or service you in all kinds of ways. Hypnotizing people doesn’t leave marks, nor does peeing on them, trampling them with bare feet, dressing them up like a schoolgirl and fucking them senseless…Some of the most fun kinky stuff there is only leaves marks on the soul.

But spanking? That’s an easy one, too.

First off, if she bruises very easily, as you say, she may want to get some levels checked – vitamins B12, C, or K, or folic acid seem to be the most frequent culprits. She should also make sure (again, only if there’s a real concern) that she doesn’t have a clotting disorder like von Willebrand’s disease or something more serious. Most of the time, though, easy bruising is just a characteristic, nothing harmful.

With that out of the way, let’s talk about how your friend can get a spanking with minimal marking.

The things that tend to cause marks most easily are 1) heavy items like batons, metal toys, and fists, which can cause deep bruising, and 2) thin, light items like canes and singletails, which invariably leave red welts if you strike with any force at all and bruise awfully if used with a lot of force. The best way, then, to avoid marks is to use lighter items with a larger surface area: open palm, light paddles, and softer floggers.

Unless you are freakishly strong (like some Daddys I know whom I won’t name here, ahem), it’s difficult to get marks that last for more than a few minutes with a bare hand – it just hurts the hand too much. So sticking to hand-spanking is one way to go. Build up slowly to bring the blood to the surface of the skin (it looks great when it’s all pink anyway, doesn’t it?), and you can keep better track of how much damage you’re doing.

If you use paddles, again, start lightly. Flexible leather paddles are good for this, as are wooden paddles without too much heft – particularly round ones. Avoid straps and fraternity style paddles that have squared-off edges.

Spanking scenes can have a very high mental component, too, so your friend might try using a lot of verbal play in addition to the strikes, to intensify the experience.

With floggers, make sure the tails aren’t braided, and go for something softer like deerskin or conditioned suede (be aware that suede can be really rough!). Again, build up slowly. I bruise very easily myself, but the marks I’ve gotten from my hardest floggings went away within a couple hours.

After a spanking, ice her bum. You can do this with her still across your lap, which has a sweet aftercareish thing about it, or you can have her sit on a bowl of ice, which can be humiliating in that good way. Icing will help reduce the incidence of bruising.

Some people like to use arnica cream to heal bruises more quickly. I have heard only anecdotal evidence of its effectiveness; Miss Calico’s description of her experiment is entertaining but isn’t much of a vote of confidence for the stuff.

Most important, though, is that she Not Panic. If she ends up with a bruise or two, well, she bruises easily, right? I have bruises with some frequency where I have no idea where they came from. I currently have a bite-shaped bruise on my thigh that I remember vividly, but sometimes I get bruises – usually on my hips, or butt, or thigh – that are inexplicable except that perhaps I ran lightly into the wall when I was stumbling to the bathroom at 3 am. Point is, there are steps you can take to avoid marks, but if you’re playing with striking, there’s no guarantees. If she doesn’t get panicky over some marks and doesn’t flaunt them to her partner, either, hopefully she won’t run into trouble. If her partner’s going to freak out about it regardless, then they may want to consider that there’s some other control issue going on aside from whether she’s allowed to have marks or not.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

So, I’m working again on adding social networking links to my posts. Since I’m currently having WordPress host this blog, and plug-ins aren’t allowed, this is a manual proposition. (Kinky.)

Anyway, I’ve got Fetspank up there (Maymay, is there any way to make the link display your URL and post title? I’m dyin’, here), and I’m slowly adding buttons for StumbleUpon, Reddit, Fark (which has an adult section), Digg, and Facebook.

Are there other adult places – or even better, kinky/queer spaces – that have this kind of linking action? I checked out Fleshbot, but was actually kind of turned off by the front page and its gyrate-y images – not to mention the choices I have at the top: Straight, or Gay? How simple life must be for you.

Anyway, I don’t think it has that functionality anyway. Anyplace else?

All right folks, it’s looking official: Monday Advice is moving to Tuesdays, due to my need to deliver a different article on Mondays. I apologize for missing last week; please have patience as I adjust to changes!

All of that said: please, send me questions! I’m running a bit low again. I’ll have one for next week, but after that I’ll need some more. Seriously, folks – don’t you have problems??

This week’s question asks: what happens when you’re kinky, but not like that?

My partner is into something I am not. I need help finding a way to be responsive in it. To be clear, this is not an issue of boundaries, or feeling safe, or anything like that. It simply doesn’t turn me on, and as a result, in the moment often strikes me as stagey, silly, or absurd (as kink to the non-invested often appears), and so I do struggle with inappropriate reactions (i.e., laughter, although I have not been so insensitive as to do so out loud.) Sex is not merely an exchange of “I’ll do this thing I don’t dig if you’ll do X,” I know, but as we are talking about something that neither harms nor bothers me, I’d rather find a way to make this satisfying than to toss it out of our repertoire.

First of all, gentle reader, I’m happy to see that you’re GGG – as Dan Savage would have it, Good (as in good in bed), Giving (generous to your partner), and Game (up for anything – within reason). You’re already most of the way to making this okay, since you know that you’re willing to do this for your partner since s/he likes it so much and it isn’t really bothering you. One of the realities of good sex is that sometimes, we agree to do something that we might not be that into because our partner loves it, and in exchange, they do something for us. One hopes that this is not the totality of a sex life – if it is, then you’re probably sexually incompatible – but as people are, well, different from one another, sometimes you’re going to have to make allowances.

That said, if the activity in question not only isn’t working for you but puts you at risk for laughing at your partner, that could go poorly. So how do you make something seem hot to you when objectively, it isn’t?

There are a few answers to this. The first is about the power of submission. Are you submissively inclined toward your partner, or would you like to be? If the two of you are playing with power dynamics in addition to whatever sensation play you might be doing, it may be worthwhile to experiment with putting you in a submissive headspace before you begin this activity. Often, an attitude of submission in a scene can make it easier – and much more enjoyable – to take something the dominant is doing that’s not your favorite. This phenomenon can take many forms: you may feel that you’re doing this in service to the dominant, which gives some people a thrill; you may feel silly and embarrassed (which you already seem to) and let that be sexy. Or you can think of this act as another way that your partner “owns” and uses you – in that good way.

If that stuff doesn’t do it for you, you can talk to your partner about letting the inherent silliness of whatever it is you’re doing come out: have a scene where you laugh together, where you brat him a bit and he puts you back in line. One day when you’re not in the middle of a scene, let him know that you find whatever-this-is kind of silly, but that you want to make it fun for both of you. Stagey-ness can be a lot of fun: if it feels over the top, take it all the way over.

The other option, which may not be the best but can work, is to simply transform the experience in your head. It’s not quite “lie back and think of England,” but when he starts doing this thing that doesn’t get you off, think about something that does. Focus on the hotness of your partner, or think about something else you two do that really turns your crank. People often feel guilty about fantasizing about something – or someone – else during sex, but the fact is that everybody does it, and so long as you’re not always thinking about something else while your partner’s banging away at you in whatever way, there’s no harm in it.

In general, though, I recommend that you make it about the thread between the two of you and not just about the act. It’ll be a lot more fun for both of you – and you may even find a new piece of the sexual repertoire that works for you.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Ever since my alter-ego took on a new writing assignment, I’ve been having some trouble getting the advice out on Mondays. I’m considering changing the day of the week I do it. But for now, I give you Monday Advice on Tuesday.

Dear Delilah,
My partner N and I have been together for well over a decade. We’ve had ups and downs in our sex life over that time, and we’re currently working hard on getting to a place with it that makes both of us happy. We have tried various kinky activities in the past, and they were fun but never became a large part of our sexual repertoire. However, we both have other partners, and I have been exploring my kinky side with mine in a way I never have with N. I know that N is unhappy that there are things I am “sharing” with others which I am not doing with her. I know that every couple has ways in which they aren’t completely sexually compatible, but what can I do about the things that I want to do with other people but just am not interested in doing with N? I’m GGG, but there are things that just isn’t sufficient for.
- Sad in the City

Dear Sad,

This is a somewhat tricky situation, but if it weren’t, I imagine you wouldn’t have written. My first response, though, is to ask you a question: what things are you willing to do with N? It can be very difficult, in poly relationships, to feel that there are things that you and your primary partner simply don’t share – especially sexual things. But it can also be very difficult to be as kinky as you want to be with the person you share your life with, especially if you’re trying in all other ways to have a relationship of equals. When you do kinky sex with someone regularly – especially if the power only flows in one direction – the question of who does the laundry and who pays the bills becomes even more charged than it usually is. Not to mention that sometimes, you just don’t see your partner in those terms. And sometimes, especially if you’ve been with someone for a long time, you’ve discovered your kinkier side with someone else.

I can’t count how many clients I had when I was a professional domme who couldn’t ever imagine approaching their wives about their kinky desires. For the most part, these were women these men had chosen to marry before they knew about their kinks, or they were caught up in some virgin/whore dichotomy and chose these women to marry and raise kids with, and went to women like me for the other stuff. In your case, though, it sounds like you’ve given kink with your primary a fair shake, and it just hasn’t worked for you. In that brilliant way that poly people do, you’ve found appropriate outlets for your desires elsewhere.

But now your primary is unhappy. Why? Because she perceives that you’re having all the great sex with someone else, not with her. So the question becomes not what to do about those things you don’t want to do with her, but what about those things you do want to do?

It’s impossible to make a happy sex life out of things you’re not doing. But there are many, many things to do in sex. It can be a huge trap to focus on the things you’re not doing together – especially if you both are doing those things with other partners. The thing to do is focus on what you’re already doing together, what you could be doing together that you know works but aren’t doing for some reason, and what else you could try that might work.

Comparisons, as one of Shakespeare’s fools said, are odorous. Experienced polyamorous people know the dangers of comparing oneself to one’s partner’s other partners; that way lies madness. Comparing the sex you’re having is no exception – in fact, it’s probably the cardinal application of the general rule. The thing to do is address the sex you’re having in that relationship, and find the ways of having it that are good for both of you. This might involve some experimentation, and maybe bringing back some of the things you did in the past that you found “fun.” It may involve trying some new things, or falling back on old standbys that you know work well.

I’m a pretty kinky person, but I know that with one of my partners, the most profound and satisfying thing we can do is fuck in missionary position. The way we connect energetically takes care of the rest. With another partner, sometimes he gets full satisfaction just from going down on me – which I don’t enjoy all that much with anyone else. It doesn’t matter to me that I’m not swinging from the chandeliers with either of those partners, and it doesn’t seem to bother them, either. It can take time to get to the point where you’re not constantly thinking about how you must be falling short compared to your partner’s other partners, with whom your partner clearly has a much more fulfilling and exciting sex life (read sarcasm here). But it is possible.

The trick is to connect, without expectations. Undress each other. Look at each other. Get into bed together and just touch each other for a while. Revel in the feel and familiarity of each other’s skin. Even if you don’t have the most exciting sex ever, you’ll be rebuilding the closeness that brought you together in the first place.

Next, make a point of it. Have boring sex, once a week at the least. Make special time for it. As you go on, keep trying new things, or old things, one at a time. Really explore each other. Sometimes, poly couples can fall into the complacency trap: because all the exciting sex is coming from outside the primary relationship, it’s easy just to share the non-sexual, day-to-day life with one’s familiar, primary partner and let the sex life fizzle. Before you know it, you’re just like best friends who are roommates. Add scheduling craziness to this and the pattern becomes nigh-unbreakable.

So schedule it in. Mark the time for each other in your calendars. Keep to it, and start finding the things that make your sex together special, rather than concentrating on what’s missing.

:: :: :: :: ::

“Now when I look at myself I feel like a woman,” says Ngozi, who says she has even experienced orgasms for the first time in her life. “It’s beautiful, I just love it, it feels like you’re melting. Before it irritated me when my husband tried to touch me, now I reach out to him.”

A doctor in Colorado is performing surgeries to restore sensation to women who have been genitally mutilated.

The doctor is herself a transgender woman, and learned the technique from a doctor in France (Genital reconstruction surgery is fully covered by insurance there: why don’t I live in France, again? ) who regularly receives death threats from radical Islamist groups for his work in this area and his other efforts to reduce violence against women.

I’ve always been despondent about the issue of female circumcision, as I am someone who is devoted to a life of pleasure and can’t imagine how awful it must be to have your sexuality violently stolen from you forever. I didn’t think there was any recourse once this was done to a woman. Now, with a combination of labiaplasty (if needed) and exposing the deeper parts of the clitoris, women are having sensation and a sense of normalcy restored.

Dr. Bowers does the surgery free of charge. Today, I’m inspired to do more for the cause of female pleasure and health.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Someone just friended me on Facebook whom I haven’t seen in a while: an adorable, pigtailed, somewhat gender-queer boy I’ll call Paul. Paul is younger than I am, very smart, but generally demure around me in a way that drives me crazy. In that good way.

Looking at his picture, I’m reminded of a certain party I attended – not even a play party, but attended by many a freak – where, under the influence of several lovely cocktails, I spent some time with him kneeling at my feet while I pulled his hair. The sounds he made were absolutely delicious.

Dominance is a bit like Spanish for me: I do it better when my inhibitions are down. This isn’t to say that I generally play when I’m drunk; I hardly ever do, in fact, and I know that the party line says it’s a Bad Idea. It is to say, however, that at actual play parties, where drink isn’t allowed, I’m likely to spend a lot more time subbing. You’d think that someone who was a professional for four years would be better at asserting sexual dominance when the opportunity presented itself, but it turns out not so much. It’s a lot easier to be and do that without self-doubt when there’s someone paying you – it’s a fairly clear indicator that they want what you’ve got on offer.

Now and then I wish I had a sweet boy like that to play with from time to time. His relationship status says “It’s complicated.” A promising sign?

I’m often amused by how predictable my desires are. On the one hand, I’m a polyamorous switchy bisexual: it could be said that I don’t even have a type. But it turns out I have several, and what’s entertaining and occasionally distressing to me is how subversively heteronormative they are.

Bet you haven’t seen those two words next to each other very often.

What I mean is this. I am fairly femmy in appearance – very femmy, in fact, aside from the fact that I’m six feet tall and have a large frame. I like to be dominated by men who are manly: handsome, square-jawed men who look terrible in drag. I like commanding voices, sharp words, and cock.

I like, also, to be dominated by women who are manly: butch, short-haired women and bois in suits and ties who grab and take and twist and initiate. I like commanding voices, sharp words, and cock.

I like to dominate women who are more femme than I am. Girls in frilly dresses, with long hair to tangle my hands in and full breasts for me to alternately suck on and slap around, women who let their heads loll back and close their eyes as they part their lips. Makeup to mess up. Little intakes of breath and noises of pleasure. They bring out my butch, and I like to wear leather and strap on my silicone with them.

And I like to dominate men who are a little femmy, too. Not the humiliated sissy slut; as I’ve mentioned before, the kink of self-loathing is not my thing. But boys who look androgynous and sweet in skirts. Boys who can pull off pigtails, but still look like boys. Boys who blush and cast their eyes down when I flirt with them, and who turn to butter when I pull their heads back by the hair. Boys who start out demure but scream and buck and beg when they’re being fucked in the ass.

Growl. Now I’ve distracted myself.

But seriously. It almost bothers me. I’m queer in so many ways, and yet in my sex I continually enact the traditional binary in non-traditional ways.

What do you notice about the ways your sexuality recapitulates, or doesn’t, the expected norms?
:: :: :: :: :: ::

These past couple of weeks have been intense. Yesterday I took some time to visit my toppish sweetie, where, most times, we would spend most of the day in bed, with occasional stops to eat, nap, or take a walk. This day, though, he was tired like I was. We sexed around a little, but finally, after a nice lunch, cuddled up on the couch together and watched TV. Really. That’s about what we were up to.

The show we watched was Dexter, a Showtime thing I hadn’t heard of (I don’t have broadcast TV or cable). It’s a show about a sociopath: a serial killer who had the luck to have a foster father who could see what he was and direct his energies to do the least harm. The result? Dexter is a killer all right – there’s nothing else in life that gives him such satisfaction, makes him feel. But he only kills – you guessed it – uncaught serial killers.

I know that something continues to be very wrong with me, but I can’t help but find his character impossibly sexy. His meticulousness and precision. The way he moves. Even the way he kills: always quick and merciful, first tying the sedated victim down to a table using Saran Wrap, then getting them to confess (he is always sure of their crimes before he makes his move), then making a small cut in their faces to collect a sample of their blood on a slide (every serial killer needs a trophy collection), then delivering the fatal blow quickly before butchering them and disposing of their bodies.

Besides this, he works in forensics as a blood spatter analyst, and the wall behind his desk at work looks like Jackson Pollack ran out of everything but red paint. Blood is, as his voice over says, not just his job, but his life. And, it seems, his art, his passion, his sex.

What is it that makes sociopaths such compelling characters? People who are essentially psychotic by behavior, completely disconnected from human emotion and social codes – but who can fake it, make people think that they are human, even lovable. It’s fascinating, terrifying. And sexy. After all, what’s hotter than Hannibal Lechter?

Well. Christian Bale, maybe.

Sigh. My boy is certainly unique. Even sitting around watching TV with him is kinky.

:: :: :: :: :: ::