Since English doesn’t have enough words, we have to borrow some
I love a lot of people. Some people treat the word love like saffron — doling it out in tiny doses — taking care not to waste it. I think of love more like salt. I sprinkle it on everything liberally. It enhances the flavor of everything you add it to.
When I tell people that I love a man or woman who isn’t my spouse, I often get raised eyebrows. The problem isn’t that I love other people; the problem is that they think I’m using saffron. They worry that if I’m doling out my saffron to other people…
But now, you get to choose a life of sensual freedom
Warning: This article contains descriptions of sexual abuse that some readers may find triggering.
An unacceptable number of Americans enter adulthood, completely messed up about sex and sexuality. We hide our sexual orientation, feel shame surrounding our porn search terms, and can’t bring ourselves to tell our newest lover how we like our clit rubbed or our ball sack stroked during oral.
It’s no surprise that American adults are ashamed of their sexual selves. Sexual shame is woven so tightly into our society that an expert seamstress with a sharpened seam ripper couldn’t undo it.
Trying to bind our relationships by societally dictated ideals is unnecessary pressure
When I was growing up, I knew I’d meet someone, date, fall in love, get married, and have children. I never questioned this narrative because it’s what all the adults around me were doing. Sure, my parents got divorced, but they both rapidly formed serious relationships with other people.
Single adults, such as my Uncle Keith, were weird or somehow broken. I heard stories about how he couldn’t keep a girlfriend or how he cheated on his wife repeatedly as if it was somehow a crime against humanity.
When my parents divorced, I heard from my mother how many times…
Relationships | Parenting
Taking relationships too seriously at a young age has consequences
My intelligent, artistic, motivated daughter turned 18 and joined Tinder. Like any attractive young woman in the app, her inbox filled up like a damned-up river during Spring thaw.
She met one of the boys she matched with, another recent high school grad with college plans on the horizon. Then, she deleted the app and lost her mind.
She and her Boyfriend both identify as bisexual but agreed not to see other people of either gender. After two months, they were in love and planning to attend college in cities five hours apart and remain faithful and monogamous.
Two weeks…
Sexually emboldened women are either shamed or objectified
If you’ve followed my work for any length of time, you know that I enjoy having sex and get giddy over embracing my sensual nature. I attend sex clubs, have orgies with Hubby, scroll through Tinder on occasion, and have a habit of finding attractive men in coffee shops. I don’t know how many people I’ve slept with, mostly because counting is a tedious task.
I’m not the only woman who lives this way, but I am one of a few brave female writers who are unabashedly vocal about it.
I use the word slut to describe myself for a…
A frank discussion about butt stuff pays off
My phone chimed while I chopped peppers for taco night with my family. I unlocked it to find a text from Seth (a sexy friend who rocks my world) asking me to bring some of my sex toys with me the next time we got together. He remembered I mentioned an affinity for butt stuff and said he wanted to talk about that over dinner to get a clearer idea of what I was into and my boundaries.
We texted back and forth, and I explained that I wasn’t open to anal penetration (from a penis) except with Hubby, but…
If I’m not reaching out to them or responding to texts, how long until they disappear?
I refuse to allow my phone to hold me captive. Most minutes of the day, something is going on in front of me far more interesting than the notifications on my out-of-date iPhone screen.
Sometimes it’s my kids needing my attention or an article I’m churning out before a deadline. Other times it’s Hubby’s deliciously scruffy face after a long week of working from home. …
Hearing the juice details read aloud can help reduce sexual shame and boost your libido
It’s winter and, if you live in a cold climate, you’re probably stuck inside most of the time, away from other people. I’ve gone weeks without seeing anyone other than Hubby and my children. I love all of them, but being a human jungle gym for tiny humans erodes my libido like a steady stream of water over limestone. Throw in an autoimmune neuromuscular disorder that is currently untreated, and my desire went into quarantine.
It wasn’t just my desire for sex with Hubby that fell victim to the wasting of my libido. My want for self-pleasure also disappeared. …
Embracing sluttiness is what gets me off, and I don’t care who does or doesn't like it
Recently, my friend Lisa and I met a man at a bar, took him to a hotel room, and broke him. We planned ahead and acted out a joint fantasy, though we didn’t have a particular target in mind at the time. We were both in the mood to flirt with and bed a random stranger and figured that it was safer to do so together.
Lisa is slutty. I’m definitely sluttier.
Merriam Webster defines slut as “a promiscuous person: someone who has many sexual partners — usually used of a woman.”
The stigma surrounding bisexuality and open marriage causes us to keep secrets from those we love
Lucy and I were coworkers before we were friends. She and I were both specialists in our field and passionate about education. As a teen charged with designing, producing, and training teachers on a new curriculum for our district, we were a force to be reckoned with. During our tenure as coworkers, we had occasional happy hour drinks with our bosses. We were both over-achieving perfectionists, and our bosses ate that up. They took us as their number two to various conferences and legislative lobbying sessions, asking us to step in and speak when they were unable.
Then, Lucy and…
