emanix: (emanix)
Inspired by far too many posts on social media in which guys worry about the size of their genitalia. This is a slightly edited version of something I posted as a comment on facebook last week, but felt it deserved to be preserved for posterity, or future referencing:

"Aaaaaaargh!! I think I just hit my final limit for guys imagining that having a massive cock is what makes for a good lay. It just plain isn't true. It's not length, it's not girth, it's not even what you do with it that matters. What makes you decent in bed, guys, is NOT BEING ALL ABOUT YOUR COCK.

Guys, I have got to tell you, your best tools for pleasing a woman are (1) Your hands*, (2) Your mouth*, (3) your brain, (4) whatever sex toys you happen to have lying around, and maybe if she's really worked up and horny for you then your dick might be a welcome addition, and when it is... guess what? The size of it isn't going to matter, because (unless you're painfully bashing her cervix, which is so not fun) she'll only be able to feel the first three inches and your pubic bone grinding against hers anyway.

Don't get me wrong. I love fucking. I've used strap-ons with my girlfriends too, on occasion (NB. Funnily enough, it's never the first thing we go for). When it's good, it's good. But when it's good, it's because someone's paying attention to the girl-bits it's going into, not just to the size of the damn tool.

This rant brought to you by the Horny Bisexual Women's Commission For Better Sex."


*Okay, female opinion may differ on the order of these. But hey, this is my rant. And for my money, hands are WAY more versatile, flexible, sensitive and effective than mouths. I've never yet had a tongue hit my g-spot.
emanix: (emanix)
This will be the start in a short journal series defining the terms that are important to me. This one comes first, mainly because it was the first one I became aware of in myself. Also coincidentally a thread on the UK Poly mailing list today discussing bisexuality and its representation in the media reminded me of *why* I wanted to do this. The point of being open about what and who I am is to challenge stereotypes and misguided assumptions, and to reinforce positives instead of negatives.

So what is bisexuality? In the sense we're talking, the word means 'sexually attracted to both sexes' - To me this isn't entirely accurate as a description of my sexuality, because it's not a person's sex, or even their gender that I'm attracted to. In fact, in slightly over two and a half decades, I still entirely fail to comprehend how the shape of a person's genitalia could make the slightest difference to interpersonal relations. If I'm attracted to someone, my first thought is 'I want to connect with you and make you smile' and the 'how' of that comes much much later. Apparently though, I'm a freak - the majority of the population, be they gay or straight, seem to think that physical gender is important.

I think you're all weird.

Admittedly I did grow up with the usual expectations, and up to my teenage years went along with the default assumption that I was going to be straight and date boys. After all, I *liked* boys. Some of them were my best friends, and some of them I found pretty attractive too.
I was about 15 when I realised what should probably have been obvious sooner - having already had crushes on girls, and spent my playground years playing football with the boys and offering the girls piggyback rides and demonstrating my weightlifting talents in an attempt to impress them (aged ten years old and lifting more than double my bodyweight in the form of multiple wriggling young ladies - how baby-dyke can you get?!). The boy I was head over heels in love with at the time decided to break off our 'relationship' before it went further than holding hands and kissing, because he had a crush on another girl. I was devastated at the time, but I also realised something else. I had a crush on the same girl. I *liked* girls, too.

This scared me a bit at the time. The overarching image of bisexual people in the media was, and apparently still is about self-destructive sluts who can't control themselves: indiscriminate people of either gender who prey on innocent younger folk and end up in bad situations (a la Rocky Horror, if you will), married men who are 'really' gay and cheating on their wives with boys, and drunken college girls 'experimenting' with their friends and growing up to be traditional housewives after they outgrow their 'phase'. None of these things were exactly me.
Thankfully, I was lucky enough to grow up with a critical brain that said 'if these aren't me, then I can make my own niche' and a lovely accepting set of geek friends who didn't care if I had a fetish for space aliens as long as I was happy. So I did. I made my own niche, and got myself a full set: a boyfriend and a girlfriend (and this was a long long time before I heard the word 'polyamory') and that all made sense. Sort of.
Eventually I grew up a bit further, and refined my taste in people and realised that what I really wanted wasn't boobs or bum, dick or pussy, but a real mental connection with another intelligent human being, or maybe a few. And it didn't matter what shape the body was beyond that it was looked after. That's all there is to it.

Except the negative stereotyping, that is. I don't get it - just because I don't choose my lovers based on whether they have 'innies' or 'outies' or anything in-between for that matter, does that make me indiscriminate? Of course not. In fact, if anything it makes me more discriminating. If I have a larger percentage of the population to choose from, why would I settle for less?
When I was living in the 'Goldfish Bowl' (a small village in the mediterranean, with rather old fashioned attitudes) my partner asked me to remain in the closet about practically everything, except about being bi - but in the event I closeted myself over that too, when the rumours started flying about me and anyone I ever *spoke* to of the opposite sex, and I realised that if it came out that I was - shock - into women too, then nobody was safe from the rumour mill. I realised that the stereotype would stop me from being friends with anyone in the area - because apparently, I couldn't be trusted to not have sex with them.
It was only after I left the Goldfish Bowl that I realised there was a flip-side to that. I don't *have* to be a double-agent in the war of the sexes. Being bi not only means that I have a wider range of potential partners, but also that I have a wider range of potential friends.
I'm not bound to seeing one gender only as potential mates, and the other as allies, but I get to look at each and every person I meet and say 'where does this person fit best in my life?' I'm not subject to the broken logic mentioned in this post - and I'm better equipped for dealing with situations where I meet someone I'm potentially interested in sexually, and they're off-limits for whatever reason, including the reason 'I just don't want to, actually' - I get more practice. And yes, I do have friends that I don't sleep with who *aren't* off-limits. I have straight male friends, I have bi female ones. (I confess, for some reason I struggle to get along that well with the political sort of lesbians for any length of time - it's not because I accidentally sleep with them, though, we just seem to rub each other the wrong way. )

This shirt slogan just about sums it up:

Bisexual, Poly, Kinky, Horny, And I'm STILL not sleeping with you.

And handily enough, that also lists the topics I intend to cover later in this series, in roughly the right order.

Watch this space!


May. 1st, 2009 05:49 am
emanix: (Default)
Roughly three years ago now, I began an anonymous online journal*, intending to write about my experiences entering into polyamory as a lifestyle (having known I wasn't happy with monogamy for a long time before that, but being derailed by partners, attitudes and random events that meant I was 'accidentally monogamous' for a long time). It didn't turn out to be quite what I intended.
What I actually recorded was three years of living as a poly person in a community of non-poly people. Monogamites, as I tend to think of them. Three years of being in the closet, and accepting that my innate identity was something to be shut away, hidden and brought out only in private, whispered about in dark corners and conducted furtively.
Three years of internalised shame and embarrassment, and paranoia, culminating in one abusive relationship to end all of them, which I only really woke up from when I had to get the police involved.
Very recently though, I turned a corner. Partly thanks to finally coming into contact with some members of the poly-activist community in London, where I am based, and gaining a support network for coming out in, and partly thanks to this post http://tacit.livejournal.com/207965.html - which crystallised some of the arguments I had actually made way back in early 2006, when I was debating whether or not to make my blog public and write as myself, and let myself get talked out of openness by well-meaning people, and partners who claimed to love me, but weren't accepting enough of my lifestyle to fight for my right to have it and be open about it.


You know what? I am proud of what and who I am. I've thought long and hard about my life choices, and about what parts of my personality are mere preferences, and what parts are innate *me*, and ever since I can remember I have put a lot of work into being a good person, and an ethical person, and developing the right kind of communication skills, and patience to be who I want to be, (and lord knows that last one was hardest of all) all without feeling the need to be told what to do by a 'higher authority', be that teacher, religious leader, ephemeral spirits or whatever, and without feeling that I have to follow the herd either. I have applied principles of critical thinking to my own lifestyle and attitudes and come up with a set of personal codes that I believe is both ethical *and* rational. My opinion is valued amongst people I care about and respect, and there are things I want to say. Not as an anonymous 'masked crusader', but as me.

I am, amongst many other things, bisexual, polyamorous, a BDSM switch, a radical agnostic, ambidextrous, an artist with a scientific mind, a geek, a fighter, a drinker of huge amounts of tea, and a person who is deeply upset at the horrible things people do to each other on a daily basis and wants to fight it with big piles of love and joy.
I am proud of the fact that, barring abusive psycho-guy, I am still on good terms with all of my ex-partners. I am proud that even whilst I was in recovery from that relationship, people I hold dear still felt they could come to me for help and advice. I am proud that despite all temptation, I refuse to allow one, or even a series of painful relationships to sour my view of all people (I am wary, yes, but I refuse to treat people with the suspicion that was aimed at me).

Another thing I am is angry. Not so much at the partners who asked me to hide who I was, but at the fact that they felt they needed to, and the society that taught my lovers (and me) that it was the right way to be, however much we all ended up hurting because of it. Through allowing people to talk me out of a large chunk of my self-esteem, through allowing myself to be closeted by others, I feel I contributed ultimately to my own abuse.

In some ways, I am lucky. I have a large number of friends amongst whom I have always been 'out' about everything I am (To some I 'came out' as a geek long after I came out about everything else). My brother knows pretty much everything, and my mother, whilst not officially In The Know, has talked with me about the fact that I was 'seriously' dating two guys who knew about each other, and seen the toys in my room, and watched me letch over women, without anything more than a smile and a raised eyebrow (and in one case, perhaps a hint of envy).  I grew up with some open minded and intelligent friends - the geek crowd - and felt free to be whoever I wanted to be in the schoolyard, even if it wasn't the most popular person in the school. Also, as an artist, the chances of my losing my job over my sexuality or sexual preferences is really quite low - the odd client, perhaps, but certainly not my career as a whole. So I've felt comfortable with being out about everything I am amongst my friends for many years, but not online. After all - people might connect posts on poly or BDSM or bisexuality with my work, and that, social conditioning told me, would be BAD.

Bad Schmad, I feel these days that my arguments have more weight coming from a 'real' person rather than a possibly imaginary anonymous blogger, and I have learned a lot over my lifetime of being polyamorous in a world of monogamites that I think could be very useful to people in the situation I escaped from. Also I want to connect with people who are like me on a real-world basis, not behind a screen.

I'm coming out of my chrysalis, and I intend to *fly*.

* If at some point, I receive agreement from everyone mentioned in my anonymous journal that they are okay with it, I will add a link here, but I promised someone I was deeply in love with at the time that, even as a nickname, I wouldn't 'out' him, and I don't intend to knowingly break that even now.

July 2015



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