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On How I Learned What Sex Was

I have a 16mm projector and a couple of big boxes of old reel-to-reel movies from the 30's to the 70's that I picked up cheap at a yard sale... one of them is a movie from 1961 called "Will Bobby Still Respect Me?" - in which tow-headed Bobby asks shy freckly Alice to the "Weiner Roast" (!!) and then they go "Petting" on a plaid blanket that has to be seen to be believed... Answer: Bobby does NOT respect Alice, because Alice gave it up. Stern music followed, fade to black.

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 5:24 pm 0

On Women Laughing Alone With Salad

Just went to GettyImages and did a search on "Men Laughing Alone". Top contenders on cursory examination -Stock Photo Men seem to laugh alone with: Phones, Money, Newspapers, Puppies, Laptops, and in one interesting example, a bow and arrow he's holding right next to his balls.

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 5:19 pm 1

On How I Learned What Sex Was

Hell's Angels?? Yikes.

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 5:03 pm 0

On How I Learned What Sex Was

That's great... treat your vagina like it's gold OR diamonds, either one is a good idea.

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 5:00 pm 0

On How I Learned What Sex Was

Pretty much. Seems that way to me anyways. All the kids I was around had the same experiences, so it's always seemed blandly normal to me, which is why other people's stories who didn't grow up this way are so damn fascinating to me. My best friend's Baptist-restrictive upbringing is the most lurid, interesting stuff I've ever heard… dunno, takes all kinds, don't you think? And hey, don't knock sexual awakening (except for the cheesy wording, it's pretty heady shit!).

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 4:52 pm 0

On The Accidental Groupie

A long time ago in the Pleistocene era, I went to a Jane's Addiction concert with a friend of mine whose sister just happened to be the 'Jane' who was so famously addicted. I was 20. One of the girls we went with in our little gaggle of free-thinking hipster grrls, let's call her Amber (not her real name) had a HUGE crush on Dave Navarro. This was the long-haired, doe-eyed, freakishly talented Dave Navarro era, not the Carmen-Electra-Squicky-Goatee Dave Navarro. I could see it; his solo on Trip Away alone had me thinking fond thoughts at him. But I had a huge crush on Perry Farrell (and again - this is the heroin-skinny, long-dreadlocked, eyeliner-sporting Mystical Sex Shaman Pre Porno for Pyros-Perry Farrell, NOT the bizarre reborn-Yuppie married to Etty on 'Married to Rock').
So I stood there at the show and made googly eyes at Perry, trying not to be such a fucking acolyte but failing because he was so very, very compelling and weird, and I am one of those chicks with a big thing for Weird Guys. After the show, we hung out with the band in one of those gated-off Celebrity Hangout Areas venues have, our entree secured by being Friends of the Sister of Addicted Jane. My friend 'Amber', who was absolutely gorgeous but shy as hell, begged me to go talk to Dave Navarro for her and "find out if he thinks I'm cute". Oh christ, it was soooo high school, but I did it. And, because I didn't have a crush on him and didn't much care what he thought of me, I guess I sauntered over in a particularly confident way that made me instantly attractive to him - I walked up and said "Hey, Dave - my friend Amber thinks you're really cute. What do you think of her?" and pointed her out. He looked at her trembling in the corner, and looked back at me being all uncare-y and said "Well, she's cute, but I like YOU a lot better."
I immediately lost any claim to integrity I thought I had, and decided on the spot that I liked him too; Amber just shrugged and said "Can't blame you.." when I walked past her with Dave Navarro all over me and whispered 'Sorry' at her. Ended up making out with him backstage for an hour or so. At one point (I was sitting on the counter of his dressing-room mirror area, him wedged between my (clothed) legs, and he turned me around so we were both facing the mirror, put his head right next to mine and gazed at our reflections: "We would have beautiful children," he said.
A few more gropings and mackings later, there was a knock. He opened the door, and the rest of the band was standing there waiting for him to go back to the hotel. For each band member there was a starry-eyed, adoring little groupie... except the drummer. Someone said "Does Stephen have one yet? No? Oh, well, let's just grab him one - let's see - YOU! come here for a minute" (beckons a girl who was standing a little ways away). "You're going with Stephen to the hotel, okay? Great. Okay, now everyone's got one, let's go."
It was at that moment that I came to my fucking senses. One? Everyone has 'One'. Everyone has that Thing that they're going to play with for the evening. Now, I don't see sex as something girls unwillingly dole out to guys; I love sex as much as any guy I've ever met. And there's nothing inherently wrong with just fucking someone you want to fuck, sans romance or responsibility. But there was something about that "One" phrasing that just put me right off. I disentangled my limbs from Mr. Navarro's and told him I had somewhere else to be, and went home alone.

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 4:45 pm 3

On How I Learned What Sex Was

I can't remember not knowing what went where, and why. My dad was a wonderful but emotionally tortured gay man who kept a few hundred videocassettes (remember those??) in his living room shelves - some classic films, some gay porn. My brother and I, age 5 or so, used to watch things like "Run Little Sailor Run" and "The Young and the Hung" and giggle. It was YEARS before I learned that "12 Angry Men" was not a gay porn movie.
Then my folks split up, so we went to live on a Marxist commune in Oregon, like many people were doing around that time... there was a 'Free Love' doctrine there, and everyone slept with everyone else. It was considered impolite to say No. Unfortunately, this extended to children, so I started having sexual experiences way, way too young. I was about 9 when a man first tried to have intercourse with me, and by then, I'd given blow jobs (to boys my age). The kids aped the adult behavior, so we used to play 'Orgy' and things like that. The man who tried to penetrate me when I was 9 was, no doubt, a messed-up person with bad intentions, but at the time, it was considered admirably free behavior on his part... teaching the kids how to get pleasure from their bodies, blah blah. Anyway, it didn't work, logistically; I spent the next few years being terrified of eventually having sex because I thought it would always hurt like that.
Then we moved, to a tiny place in the Northern California coastal area... hippies and rednecks. I was the only girl in a group of 15 or so kids, and there was nothing to do except run around in the woods barefoot, build forts (which was fun), and play around. I was a sort of guinea pig, I think, for the boys to practice things on that they had heard about or seen, in many cases, since a lot of these boys were hippie kids too. I acquiesced to it all, because I didn't know I COULD say know, much less have the ability to. So I guess I had sex for the first time at age 12 - but it consisted of a bunch of boys taking turns on top of me, some rubbing in between my thighs, a couple of the older ones managing penetration. None of it impressed me much. I remember thinking that penises were disturbingly similar to Oscar Meyer hot dogs - sort of stiff/rubbery and weirdly smooth.
These days, when someone asks me how old I was when I first had sex, I say 16, because that's how old I was when I first initiated sex with a guy I had a crush on, and was the leader/instigator. It was fun. I climbed on and had sex with him, vs. the other way around, and I remember being astonished and amazed... it was great! So that's what the fuss was about! And he was so nice about it, too - we never did it again, but the next day he brought me flowers and kissed my hand, and never, ever slagged my name to his friends. Which was nice, because years of promiscuity followed that event, and a lot of the guys I slept with were absolute jerks about it afterward. Calling me a slut, talking about me behind my back, snickering when I walked by... I could never understand that. Hadn't they done it, too? Why did that make ME a slut, and them not?
Now I'm 40 and happy, and have a wonderful husband that I can't keep my hands off of, and the other way around. He had the same kind of childhood I did, and both of us had years of not enjoying sex much, until we found each other - and it's the hottest, best sex of my life. I'm really lucky to end up with someone like him, and vice versa, after all that weirdness!

Posted on February 4, 2011 at 4:15 pm 0