For two or three months, I sort of tried to be a “normal” blogger. Blogging about my life, my wedding, my move, my travels. It was sort of fun, but it wasn’t really… me.
When I think about the things that bring people to me, it’s overwhelmingly sex. From sex toys to sex positions to sexually transmitted diseases, if you made a word cloud of my day to day vernacular, sex-related terms would be both huge and plentiful. I just love talking about sex. Furthermore, the majority of search terms that lead people to this blog are sex or relationship related. So that’s what I’m going to get back to writing about, to bring you a marvelous sex life.
Even more good news: I have a box of goodies on its way, as well as 2 other toys that need to be reviewed. Since I’m now 1 week off The Pill, I can just feel those drives kicking in. So, do you have any topics you’d like me to cover?
It’s good to be back.
If you’re interested in keeping up with my travels, my (non sex toy related) photos, my dog, and anything else generally safe for work, please check out my Tumblr. It’s 100% safe for work and linked to my Instagram, so you know it’s gonna be full of Daphne goodness.
I’m going to put this right out there: Some people suck at having friends and dating at the same time.
Have you ever had a friend who just completely disappeared after meeting Mr./Ms. Right(Now)? Maybe you’ve been that friend. Maybe you currently are that friend. Stop that asshattery right this instant.
I get it, and I’m happy for you. You’ve met someone that you just can’t stand to be without. Hell, I have someone in my life that I can’t imagine being apart from. It’s intoxicating. New love is amazing, and you want to just cocoon with your lovenugget until you’re both old, grey, and sick of each other. If you do that, everyone else is going to get sick of you real fast.
Let me tell you something. Not every activity you and your squeeze do together is a date. You’re going to get bagels, you’re not headed to the opera. If you do every single activity that you can think of together, alone, you are annoying to all of your friends who still kind of want to see you every once in a while.
Once you sequester yourselves, you will stop getting invitations to any and all other activities, unless they’re double dates. Double dates are fine and dandy, but remember your single friends? Yeah, they feel like shit when you don’t have time to see them anymore now that you’ve pair bonded. Step away from your lovenugget for one hot second and make some plans.
Furthermore, everything you do with your beloved does not have to be a “date.” You can invite other people on these outings and make an effort to make them feel comfortable and included. Believe me, it works. Haven’t you people ever seen How I Met Your Mother??
This is a wakeup call. Think about the last time you went out with a good friend. Think about the last time you tried to include someone else in your plans with your lovenugget. If you can’t remember, pick up your damn phone and send some texts. Because it’s never too late.
PS: I used the terms “lovenugget”, “squeeze”, and “beloved” because I couldn’t think of any gender-neutral pronouns besides “ou” and some people would be confused by that. Your lovenugget don’t gotta conform to gender stereotypes and neither do you.
This post has been in my head for a long time, and I never really knew how to put it together. I’m still not sure if I know how to put it together, and I’m afraid of it being taken the wrong way. But I also need to write it. And I hope that if someone needs to read it, they can find it.
I’m very angry. I wish I could have done something to the boy (now a man, by some definitions) who abused me.
When I was 14, I met an older boy at church. It was complicated in the beginning, but I believe he broke up with his older girlfriend for me. In hind sight, it was probably because he couldn’t control her like he could me. Because I met him at church, and because I trusted everyone there, I thought he was right, that he must have been right. This was the basis for two years of emotional and sexual abuse.
I should have known something was wrong when we began dating. He told me he was afraid he would end up hurting me. It started with emotional manipulation, late nights on the phone convincing him that I would try harder and that the world wasn’t as bad as he felt it was. One day during the first few months, I said something that upset him, and he grabbed my arm, twisted, and left a bruise. He told me that he wanted to hurt me the way that I’d just hurt him.
Every sign was there. I stopped getting along with my parents and most of my friends – he didn’t like them. I was anxious and depressed because I was constantly monitoring him, feeling like I had to somehow be better.
When he wanted to start doing things sexually that I didn’t feel ready for, that didn’t seem to matter. He would either keep going past my “No” or guilt me, sometimes even raise his voice at me and berate me. He used misattributed scripture and the words of his church leader against me. (I later got a chance to talk to that leader alone – he never said any of the things that my abuser used against me, and felt terrible that he had no idea what had been going on.)
For two years, there were increasingly sleepless and tearful nights spent convincing him I would try harder, that I knew I was wrong, and that I was sorry I hurt him. I never knew what I was doing to hurt him, but was convinced this must be the case. My mother didn’t trust him, but that just drove me further from her. When he would touch me, I would drift off and physically become tired so that I could at least try to get him to stop. I was scared.
Finally, he graduated, and at the last minute was accepted to a school about an hour and a half away. I didn’t have my license, so visiting him was blessedly difficult. This was when the sexual pressure and emotional abuse skyrocketed. I visited him once, where the entire day was spent in his room, trying to convince me to go farther. I think it was at this point that he started wanting to break it off.
That January, just after our second anniversary, he told me that he met a girl and she came onto him. Within days, he wanted to take a “break” and decide what he wanted. He broke up with me a week later, telling me that I’d been a bad girlfriend, that I didn’t love him, and that this girl knew how to take care of him. I begged him not to. For days, I received barrages of texts and phone calls, all telling me how terrible I’d been, and how much I’d hurt him. How I needed to be a good friend and be there for him through this. After two years of hearing these things, I believed them – they were all I’d known in a relationship. I thought this was love. This continued intermittently for weeks.
Finally, I told my mother something that he told me, and she lost it. My mother is my hero. She sent me to the movies with a friend and made me give her my cell phone. She called him and told him that if he ever tried to contact me again, he would be facing a restraining order. She called the phone company and had his number blocked. And when I came home, I slept with the greatest peace I’d known in years.
I began dating one of my best friends, who was patient and kind and is to this day one of my favorite people. He treated me like a princess. He helped me get through therapy, which I started when I began having PTSD and depression symptoms. I finally understood that the way my first relationship had been was not normal – it was abuse.
I am angry that this happened. I’m still angry. I’m not one of those people who has found peace with the situation, who has the grace to forgive her abuser. If I saw him again, someone would have to hold me back.
It took me years to sort this out, and to figure out my own sexuality and my own independence. I was afraid of it for so long, and I felt so guilty. But I’m writing this, and writing it under my actual name, because it was not my fault.
A few days ago, I overheard one girl on my college campus talking to another.
“I just can’t figure out how he feels about me. When we’re together, it’s great, but then he doesn’t text back and he doesn’t make plans. But I like him so much!”
It was really difficult for me not to go over and tell her what I’m about to tell you: It doesn’t fucking matter.
Think about it this way. When you make a new friend, you hit it off immediately. Often, you exchange numbers, and you might go through an awkward phase where you’re not sure how much texting is normal, but you’re really excited to hang out more. You see each other at parties, or you invite each other to lunch or to study. It’s fun and easy. Why should romance be more difficult than that?
To get another perspective, I asked Steve if he thought there was ever a good reason for a girl not to know how a guy feels about her (obviously, though, this phenomenon is not limited to heterosexual relationships). He – a great boyfriend – said no, absolutely not. If she doesn’t know, he’s not into it.
And that’s all you need to know. It doesn’t matter how much you like them. If you “win him over”, are you going to be happy? Or are you going to be worried you have to stay on top of your game to keep him? That’s not much of a prize, and it’s definitely not much of a relationship.
Some people aren’t very good with communication. That’s a fact. But if it’s important to you that you hear from your partner, then you should probably hold out for a partner who will respect that, who either already has a tendency to answer promptly or who is willing to make adjustments for your happiness.
Now, this part is going to sound crude, but it is what it is. Of course things are great when you’re together – one or both of you is getting what you want. You both want physical intimacy, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this situation. But if one of you wants more and the other one doesn’t, having that intimacy isn’t going to change anything. You can’t oral sex someone into loving you.
I’m not going to say “guys are ____” because they aren’t. All men, women, and ous are different. I will tell you, with confidence, that if the pieces don’t match up, if you don’t want the same things, it’s not going to work, no matter how much you like them.
Every time a conference rolls around, I totally lose Steve for about a week and a half. It hasn’t helped that we’ve not had Internet access for a full week now, which is usually how I entertain myself when I have no schoolwork to do. I’ve spent about $40 at various coffee shops in the last week, which has been delicious, but not really ideal.
Anyway, if you’re part of a couple or if you ever have been, chances are you’ve dealt with schedule conflicts and busyness. I think we probably have it a bit easier because we live together, so we’re at least in proximity to each other very frequently, but if that’s not quality time it can still feel lonely. We settle into routines, like Ru Paul’s Drag Race on Netflix before bed (Pandora Boxx should have won Season 2). And I don’t know about you, but I am a person who requires a lot of upkeep. My regular, close circle of friends I talk to at least once a week, if not every day. If I want to go out, I will hunt someone down and take them out with me, because there are times that I just need good company. One might say I’m high maintenance.
This is inherently problematic when I show up in our den in cute panties and find my boyfriend immersed in some kind of math program that I really don’t understand or care to. Contrary to what the media tells us, men cannot always be torn from their work by a lady. Some men gotta get shit done.
After making it through 5 or so conferences together, I have a system. I’m not sure if it’s the same system he employs, but it seems to work. It’s not very romantic, but it gets the job done: I schedule time. The time commitment of an hour, or two hours, is concrete and easy to conceptualize. Of course we can take an hour for couples’ time. Just the idea of putting a cap on it makes it far more manageable. Taking an hour away from his papers can give him a fresh perspective when he returns, and it makes me feel cared for.
I’m telling you. The power of an hour.