Toxic Sex Culture
Sex is supposed to be a good thing. As loving adults, we can enjoy a wide variety of sexual experiences with one or many partners throughout our lives. Unfortunately, toxic ideas are all around us. When I see how it hurts our young ones, it makes me crazy.
The average age a prostitute starts hooking is 14 years old. If that’s the average, then for every girl who starts at 16, there’s a girl starting at 12. Grown men are having sex with these little girls. Some of them are responsible for coercing them into it in the first place. All of them are responsible for keeping them there. It’s an epidemic of child sexual abuse that no one seems to care about. After all, these girls are breaking the law, right?
Describing the trauma of prostitution, and its consequences, one fourteen year old stated: "You feel like a piece of hamburger meat – all chopped up and barely holding together" (D. Kelly Weisberg, 1985, Children of the Night, Lexington Books, Toronto).
Don’t even try to tell me that prostitution is a choice when little girls are brought into the life, drug-addicted, violated, abused, and made dependent on men who are willing to exploit them until they are all used up. In The Journal of Trauma Practice, 89% of prostitutes reported that they were desperate to escape (2003).
Teen porn, and the focus on teens as the most sexually desirable, is a problem on many levels. It’s not healthy or right. When teenagers have sex, they’re supposed to be having sex with other teenagers. The only money exchanging hands should be at the corner 7-11 store to buy a box of condoms.
"It takes a village to create a prostitute."
Melissa Farley
Jugs
Breasts are an emotionally charged topic in our culture. Although they have a biological function to provide food for our new ones, they also have a larger sexual attraction meaning for us. Men become dazed and confused when they encounter a particularly striking set of knockers, and women fret over even minor flaws and imperfections in what might otherwise be their own unique beauty.
Since I had my first mammogram last week, I’ve been thinking about my own tatas quite a bit lately. I’ve also spent more time looking at them and studying them. The only conclusion I can come up with is that they are really quite ordinary.
At 5’9”, I wear a 38C bra. Since I have shoulders like a linebacker, my boobs seem to fit my frame quite nicely. They don’t sag down to my knees, nor do they point to the stars. They’re just out there … kinda like breasts are apt to do. The best quality about them are the nipples. I like the way they get very rosy and plump when properly stimulated.
While waiting for my mammo results, I was only mildly tense. It was like waiting for my annual STD test results. I don’t expect any problems, but I get tested because of the “just in case” scenarios.
Thinking about “just in case” makes a girl wonder about a few things.
What if I’m one of the one in five?
What if I lose one or both?
What would that be like?
I’m sure I’d be grateful to be alive, but I’d also have to cope with life without my pretty, but ordinary looking, boobs. Instead, there would be a big ol’ scar. I bet the myriad of proposals I get for sex would come to a screeching halt. (Some of those proposals are serious. Others are meant to be flirtatious and flattering.) Nevertheless, life is much more than boobs and sex. If I remember correctly, we decided it had more to do with LOVE.
I got my letter in the mail yesterday. As expected, I have healthy hooters. Life goes on as usual.
I’ve been invited to a Pear Festival this weekend. It’s an annual neighborhood party hosted by a friend. One of the scheduled activities at the party is a contest for “Miss Best Pear”. My friend has challenged me to participate since attitude has much to do with the outcome. Heaven knows, what I don’t have in cleavage I can more than make up for in enthusiasm. Look for my victory announcement early next week!
Western History of the Clitoris:
A bunch of dudes claim they were the ones who first discovered the clitoris. This seems rather silly. What girl hasn’t found her magic little pearl by her second birthday? Oh wait, silly me! I forgot, such things are merely mythical until some old white guy gives it a scientific name. First, this Italian guy, Realdo Colombo found the clitoris in the 16th century. He published a book called De re anatomica, where he described it as the "seat of woman's delight". Columbo also decided that he was some sort of genius deserving of honor and glory. He was reported to have said, "Since no one has discerned these projections and their workings, if it is permissible to give names to things discovered by me, it should be called "The love or sweetness of Venus." WOW! He may have been a bit full of himself, but at least he had a healthy sense of reverence.Another dude, Gabriel Falloppio argued that Columbo was a Lying Sack of Poo (his words, not mine). Fallopio said that HE was the first to discover the clitoris. The two huffed and puffed and called each other names until their untimely and suspicious deaths. They were found together in an stinky alley behind one of Venice’s popular brothels (*). Later, a 17th century anatomist, Caspar Bartholin, said that both Columbo and Fallopio were full of malarkey. He said that the clitoris had been well known to medical science since the 2nd century. Caspar sounds like he might be a little more on track. I’m fairly certain that humans, particularly the female ones, have known about the blessed pearl for a very long time. We’ll discuss women’s sexual anthropology in the near future. Until then, go forth and celebrate 2005, The Year of Cunniligus.(*) Yeah, I totally made that part up!
What Women Don't Want
Here it is my friends. I’m going to share the secrets about what women REALLY want … or rather, what we DON’T want. This may astound and shock you. Some people may even suggest that sharing these secrets is a betrayal of my sisters … or perhaps I’ve finally gone completely bonkers. I don’t care. I’ve talked it over with my vagina, and we’ve decided that this is for the good of all humanity.I don’t speak for ALL women. In fact, some may think this list is a whole bunch of hooey. However, I do pay pretty close attention to my girls, and this is what they’ve been saying.
WE DON'T CARE ABOUT:- The size of your cock. Really! I’m not kidding. We might make jokes about it, but when it comes down to it, we don’t want something the size of my forearm trying to bully it’s way into our Sweet Tunnel of Love. Big ones hurt, and they’re completely unnecessary. Our vaginas are only 4 to 6 inches deep, and our mouths are about the same. Don’t believe me? Go ahead! Try sticking something 6 inches long all the way down your throat. At best, most people can only get about 4.5 inches in without losing the ability to breathe. So, unless she has a vagina the size of a mayonnaise jar and a cavernous pie-hole in the middle of her face, your awesome big dick is going to be left out in the cold.
- Your money, your car, your clothes or your bling. Sure, we want you to be clean, tidy and somewhat organized. We also want you to have enough cash so you’re not mooching off us all the time. And, most gals would agree that it would be cool if we didn’t have to take the bus when we went on dates. However, the jag isn’t going to win our hearts, and a conversation about all your money and toys will get boring pretty damn fast.
- Player/Bad boys. Okay, admittedly there are women who are messed up enough to want the really evil fuck-heads, but I’m not talking about those gals. Most of us want a nice, decent guy. However, he also needs to be confident and independent. One of the biggest turn-offs is a man who’s looking for a mommy. We also don’t want someone who’s trying too hard to please us. We can tell when you’re being insincere. When you try too hard, it looks like you’re either pathetic and desperate, or you’ll do or say anything to get what you want. Either way it’s bad news. This is a situation where you don’t want to seem the least bit manipulative.
- A super-hot-movie-star-looking guy. Looks don’t matter that much to most women. Besides, everyone knows that all the super-hot-movie-star-looking guys are gay. We’re more interested in how you make us feel. Your attitude and personality are going to take you much further than your Rock Hudson good-looks.
- How friggin’ smart you are. If I had a nickel for every guy who told me he had a genius IQ, I’d be the one driving a Jag. Either I'm a beacon of MENSA, or somebody’s exaggerating a little bit. IQ is based on a Bell Curve. That means most of us fall in the big bump in the middle rather than the skinny bits on the ends. Stop spending all your time trying to impress us. Shut up and listen. We like it when you listen.
- How great you are at cunnilingus and other sex acts. Are you shocked that I would say this? It’s true. We don’t want to hear about it. We’re more likely to be attracted to you if you’re interesting. You’ll be interesting if you’re interested in us. Don’t worry. If you don’t screw it up, you’ll get your chance. Once we feel attracted to you, you can SHOW us all your amazing skills.
Clearly, this is not an exhaustive list. However, I’m pretty sure I nailed the biggies. I’d love to offer more, but I had my mammogram this morning and my boobies hurt. Despite the pain inflicted by the plexi-glass "Vice of Death", it was an interesting experience. Who knew that when my average sized breasts are flattened to a thickness of 2 centimeters, they look remarkably huge?
