fear

As a kid, my preferred method of masturbation was rubbing up against something. I would grind against my stuffed toys, rolled up socks, pillows, what have you. I was rather young at the time and didn’t think anything of it, besides somehow “knowing” that this activity was to be done in private. I even remember crawling under the couch in my grandfather’s basement to rub one out.

In elementary school, I continued to masturbate, but on top of keeping this activity on the lowdown, I also became more aware of the general feeling surrounding it, which was “it’s bad”. I started to hide the more commonly used toys. After all, it’s not like I threw teddy in the wash and quite frankly he kind of smelt like sex. Surely, a telltale sign of my masturbatory delight.

Picture me a little older, I’m entering the teen years and by now I’m starting to understand sexual innuendoes on TV and in movies. I’ve even read a book or two that have described masturbation. I’m no longer subject to my OWN experience of masturbation, I’m silently comparing my experience to the ones I hear around me and I begin to wonder if the way I get off is normal.

And are we to blame?

Yes.

I featured this clip in my last post about Jezebel but I wanted to bring it back because a very powerful discussion occurs during the interview, one that is hardly discussed in all of the magazines, Oprah, women friendly websites, and all of the other junk we consume on a pretty daily basis:

Lizz Winstead, thank you for addressing it. As she points out, the general feeling is that it’s not always safe to have a 100% totally free sexual life because we’re living in fear. And when asked what “we” are supposed to be afraid of, she immediately points to rape, then death.

For two primary reasons, I generally avoid writing about the American Moral-Majority-type Evangelical Christian movement.  First, I think they already get overwhelmingly more attention than they deserve, and second, I don't want to humor the part of their binary-based ideology that classifies every person as either (a) Christian or (b) sexually liberal, and defines both camps in part by their mutual enmity.  But I'm going to break my own boycott for a moment, because I was that enthralled by This American Life's recently repeated episode featuring Hell House.

As Ira Glass explains about ten minutes into the episode:

In 1999, documentary filmmaker George Ratliff read about a church in Cedar Hill, Texas, which is a suburb of Dallas, that was staging a re-creation of the Columbine Massacre.  That church, Trinity Church, was putting on a haunted house, called Hell House.  They'd been doing it every year for years, each Halloween.  The Columbine scene was just one scene of about a dozen.  There was also an abortion scene, there was a scene where a gay man dies of AIDS, and a scene where a mom meets a man on the internet and then deserts her family for that man...  And the point is: Devils are around us, trying to trip us up, every day.  Sin is real; the devil's real; so you better get right with God.

I‘ve had so many conversations with women who have felt that their genitals where deformed in some way or another, or at the very least not a representation of the status-quo. One person I know, had been told by an ex-sexual partner that her clit was quite predominant, which led her to question her genitals in a way that she had never considered before. When another friend was telling us how her inner labia hung lower than her outer labia, I started to question why mine didn’t do that. I wondered if my inner labia were too small. 

I’ve had many similar questions about my vulva: Was it too hairy? Where my lips too big? Was my clit too small? Was my pubic bone too prominent? How did it smell? How did it taste? From looking at my brother’s porn magazines, I determined that the entrance to my vagina had too many folds or that it looked wrinkly, or too stretchy, something I thought I was worsening by masturbating. Yup, I was concerned that my selflovin’ habits were going to make my pussy look prematurely old or used in some way. 

I’m not the only one, I know I’m not. This is a problem.

"Fag" and  "Gay" are two words that have been in my life since I was young.  My relationship to them has changed over the years as has their impact upon me.  I have used the words and heard the words used.  I am not proud of some of what I am about to relate.  I wasn't always in the right, I didn't always do the good thing.  I am nobody's shining example of super-duper goodness and leading the charge for doing things the right way.  I suppose that maybe, I am like a lot of people: capable of learning from mistakes.

When I was a pre-teen, the word was "Sissy" and it meant "coward" or "girl" - both of which were insults to the minds of boys my age, in the neighborhood and schoolyard.  At first, I didn't even know why they were bad things, but I knew that I didn't want to be one of the kids that those names got used on.  Being called those things meant that ridicule and physical attacks would follow. 

Hand and Semen. Photo by Eric Francis.

It’s difficult to make any universal statement about humanity not restricted to the vital organs (heart, lungs, kidneys), but I have noticed a tendency for men to be uncomfortable around their own semen. For contrast, consider how men expect women to feel about it; it’s supposed to be the most eminently drinkable, absorbable substance in the world. For men, particularly when alone, its destination is generally tissues, an old sock or the toilet.

When they are with a woman, the presumed destination is somewhere in or on her body. For most men the blow job is the ultimate expression of sexual desire or power (which tend to get mixed up). Sometimes this is done with a bit of reverence and gratitude toward his partner; often it’s the normal routine; quite often there is expectation, and a feeling of obligation by the woman.

And as many have noted, and as the porno industry thrives on, there is often a degrading quality to it: a bit of take this, bitch. On behalf of a lot of women who have been taking it, I’m here to take it back.

Introduction

This is the second installment in a 2-part article series about struggles with intimacy that are relatively common in gay relationships. In Part 1 of the series, “intimacy freak-out” was defined and the reasons why gay men are prone to this phenomenon were discussed. This article will address some of the common intimacy fears that could block your potential for true connection with your partner and will offer some tips for enhancing your comfort with intimacy to help you achieve ultimate relationship bliss!

Introduction

“Intimacy freak-out.” You’ve seen it before. You’ve probably encountered it during your dating escapades. It happens when things seem to be going famously with that special guy you’ve been dating, and when things start getting just a little bit serious, BAM! He disappears, never to be heard from again, for no apparent reason. Or those men who will have sex with you, but they refuse to kiss you during foreplay and then they’re immediately clothed and out the door faster than a speeding bullet after they’ve had their climax. Or perhaps you’re in a long-term relationship and your partner isn’t a real big fan of cuddling or showing displays of affection. He seems distant, aloof, “cut off” from you at times. Or maybe you, yourself, struggle with detachment from your lover or have been told by him that you’re “too needy and clingy.”