Searching for Lineage

I would really love to go live in Minnesota for a few months.

Now THAT is a phrase that I never thought I'd say.

Trust me, if I was putting together a top ten list of places I would be least likely to go, Minnesota would be in with a good shot of making it. As a general rule, I am a fan of big cities. Somewhere that is a player on the global stage. Somewhere that is a focus of movies, books, songs, histories. But Minnesota?

The thing is, I have never really felt a great sense of belonging anywhere. I have never actually lived anywhere for more than about five years, and it is fairly hard to put down substantial roots in half a decade, especially if you are aware that by the time you do so, it will be time to pull them up again. So I continue to travel through the world, feeling most at home with others that feel least at home - travelers, mostly.

Despite the bad reputation as weed-addled layabouts, I love travelers. There is something comforting about knowing that you are in the running to be the most informed about a place even if you only landed there two weeks ago. There is something even more comforting about spending time with people who not only support my refusal to accept the mantle of adulthood, but who actively celebrate the idea of remaining footloose and fancy free well into your thirties. Forties. Sixties.

However, my joy at the rootlessness to be found in youth hostels everywhere has everything to do with a feeling of belonging - hey, I am a tumbleweed too! - and nothing to do with the lack of a desire to belong.

When it comes down to it, I desperately want to be part of something larger. Hard to believe, for someone that runs in the opposite direction of small communities, but true, nonetheless. It is just that the larger something I wish to be part of is not contingent on having known the rest of the community since before they discovered jacking off. It has always seemed that age and history are rather arbitrary traits to build a community on, so I would rather find a sense of belonging among those who share my choices, not my postal code.

I have managed to do this in the same way that I have managed to make my living - through that wondrous thing called the internet. I have found a community of like-minded females that I have remained close to despite changes in career and continent, and I care for them with a deep, sincere love.

However. Belonging is not the same as history. And in the same way that people like to trace their family tree, I like to trace my industry tree. Except that the industry I am in is so clouded with shame and guilt that all the branches are faded. Stories are not passed from generation to generation, traditions are lost before they can even be started, and women wishing to start afresh eschew those that came before them, as though women hadn't been revealing themselves to men since Eve first donned a fig leaf, and then took it off again for a taste at the juiciest fig.

I am still left rootless. Lost in a world populated by my peers and my students - finding that at the ripe old age of 27, I am a veteran in my industry, guiding the future without any insight into the past. So I read all that I can. I devour the memoirs of those that have chosen to write them as though they are the dead sea scrolls. I collect and curate a small museum of literature - not just the memories of porn stars and peep show girls, but burlesque history, early theater, famous figures, feminist retrospectives and anthropological studies of sexuality and sin.

I read about those that have gone not too far before me, and those that have worked alongside me, but somewhere else. And still I feel....incomplete. I want to discover if the worlds that are described are the ones that  I will find. I want to connect to the sisterhood that has stretched back to when the first cavewoman decided that getting on her back was easier than breaking it to gather enough food for one more day. I want to feel what they felt, I want to stand where they stood. I want to feel like one of many - connect to all those gone before.

And so, Minnesota. It graces the list of places that I would never feel the need to go, if not for some club, some store - some place that has come up in multiple stories before. There are some places that come up again and again in the memoirs of others - places that I feel compelled to visit, to work if I can. Places that might allow me a feeling of history - that might let me start a breadcrumb trail for others to follow behind me.

These were the places that sex was first sold as a commodity, not just a pleasure.
This is where the greats danced, before they were great.
This is where burlesque hit the mainstream.
This is where porn built an empire.
This is the first of something.
This is the last.

I want, nay, I need. To seek out the last of the peepshows, before the world wide web renders them redundant. To find the one remaining ice box of a porno theater, where no one knows if the state of your nipples is a reaction to the screen or the thermostat. To walk the stage where Mamie Van Doren first licked her lips, to where Tempest twirled her tassels.

I need to breathe the same air. To connect to my history, and ask the ghosts of girly shows gone by if they felt the same draw that I do - the same addiction and power. I may never get to ask my idols what they feel - after all, there is no comic-con for the great flesh trade. No fan-signings for the first to fling their inhibitions and bathrobes to the wind. But I can follow in the footsteps that I can still see, and wonder how my print fits into theirs.

So, in no particular order, these are the places that I would like to visit. To work, if either I or they are still young enough to allow it, in the name of decent indecency. And starting with...

Minnesota. Just to work at SexWorld, and see if I could make it as  peep-show girl in the DollHouse, as mentioned in more than one memoir.
San Fran - for the Lusty Lady. Once a bastion of progressive, sex-positive activism, now a kitschy stop on the sex-work tour.
Dallas, TX - the Lodge. Arguably the most luxurious club in the world, at some point or other.
The Moulin Rouge. For obvious reasons.
Stringfellows, Paris. Having worked at the two in London, it seems only right to consider the final one, probably post Rouge.
Cheetas, Las Vegas. Oh showgirls. Doing so much, and yet so little, for sex workers everywhere.
Burlesque Hall of Fame, aka. Exotic World. To get back to the roots of it all.
The Mitchell Brothers O'Farrel Theatre. Thank you, Strip City. Now I have to.
New York. Just to stand and look at what Times Square is now. What Peepland is, now.

I could conceivably keep going, fill out a worldwide itinerary of places that I have heard of, dreamt of.  I do - in my idle moments. And one day,  I am sure that a wide-eyed zephyr will read what I have written and chase them all down, Secrets, Spearmint, Stringfellows, The Penthouse. Streamate. MyFreeCams. Maybe she will search, as I have, for a sense of carrying on a greater tradition. Maybe the taboo will be watered down enough that she can listen to stories of those that came before. Given tolerance, and time, I know that we will be given a section in the library, a history not shrouded in shame. I wish to be a part of that tradition. I wish to create a tradition, so that no more are left like I am, pulling back the curtain to see beyond the last 50 years, and left grasping at the odd memory in a sea of denial.

Why I Hate Suicide Girls

About once a week, I get someone asking me if I am a "suicide girl". To which I reply a VERY emphatic  HELL NO. Suicide girls is the perfect example of site where I wouldn't take a piss on their server if it was on fire.

I am smart, geeky, pretty heavily tattooed (I mean, not for the tattoo world, but for porn in general) and I get naked on the internet. Is it possible that I am NOT a suicide girl?

Well, yes.

For anyone not aware, suicide girls is a nasty little hipster site dedicated to the idea that "alternative" women are sexy, but that they still shouldn't be able to make a living from it. Because, y'know, getting naked on the internet for money is all kinds of progressive and interesting, but actually being a full-time sex worker is anti-feminist and dirty.

In fact, it is damn near impossible to be a suicide girl and a cam girl, (at least, a successful one) courtesy of various "non-competition" clauses in the suicide girl contracts. The following are taken verbatim from the suicide girls website.

"for two (2) years after the full execution of this Assignment, will not directly or indirectly: (i) sell or otherwise provide Internet, photographic, video, film, audio, text, design, artistic or other creative content to any “SG Competitor”

"With the new contract, we just ask that you do not model for competing sites during your time with SG. If you are currently on another site, we ask that you wait to apply until you are no longer modeling for them.










So essentially, you are allowed to model for suicide girls, you are allowed to model for any other physical publication, but you CANNOT model for any website that may be in competition with suicide girls. Considering that suicide girls is PORN....this means that you may not "model" for any other porn site. Awesome. So that craps out any camsites, brazzers, porn sites, clip sites...really, anywhere that you may get naked. Of course, you CAN get half naked or otherwise for tattoo magazines, alt lifestyle magazines, etc. Because then it is LIFESTYLE (progressive). Not PORN (dirty). Riiiight.

But I can still have my OWN site, right? So, a camgirl could be completely indy, run solely her own website, and still be a suicide girl, right? NO.

We ask that you do not model for any sites that feature tattooed, pierced or otherwise alternative models that have a separate, paid-only members section. If you would choose to model for or have your own site like that during your time with SG, we would simply add you to the archive. It is certainly okay to have your own website, but while you are on SG we ask that you do not have a paid, members only section."

Not only does this fully clarify the previous non-competition clause, and make it really, really clear that you cannot be paid for being naked anywhere else on the internet, but you cannot even have your OWN site.....sorry, you cannot have your own site if you intend to make actual money off of it. You can absolutely have your own site, and show your tits for FREE. But make money from it? Act like a serious professional in the industry and have a members only section of your site? Nah. 

Well, I may not be able to work for anyone else, or have a site of my own to make money from...but I can get money from SG customers, right? I can just make my money there! They have enough traffic!

You may not accept any cash from members. You may not solicit members for money, may not request money or gifts from them, and may not plead for donations of any sort on the site

Or not. 

So, to sum up, you can be a suicide girl as long as you do not do anything else porn related on the internet. For at least two years.

Of course, that could still work. Theoretically, it is possible to make a living off suicide girls alone. The site gleefully tells you that you SG pays someone $500 every 24hours for photoset of the day!! Woo Hoo!!! $500 a DAY! Well, fuck me sideways, that's a good living!

Except, well, you don't make that.

According to the site, there are currently just over 1700 girls on the site. There are 365 days in the year. You do the math. However you seduce your calculator, the chances are that you will make "set of the day" more than a few times a year are pretty fucking slim.

Essentially, suicide girls is about as misogynistic as they come.

A gal should be seen as sexy, even when she is heavily pierced and tattooed.
If said gal is progressive, ironic, anti-establishment and awesome, she should whip her tits out for the masses. For money.
But, y'know, not a LOT of money.
I mean, not the kind of money that would make it a career.
God no.
She is a MODEL. Not a....hooker...or something.
Ew.

To complicate things further, SG is all about the "smart" woman. Except, well, no "smart" woman that I know would work for them. Because to me, being smart means reading a contract, and I can't imagine a thought process that validates the idea of signing away your rights to be naked on the internet for two years for $500. Being smart would mean considering the idea that potential employers don't give an organic rats ass if your photos are "progressive" "fetish" "non-nude" or "ironic"...they will still fire your ass for doing porn. Being smart means realizing that baring your lady bits on the world wide web means that they are out there for all eternity, and your grandson will be able to see your cooch with a little google-fu. A SMART woman would decide that internet porn better be damn well worth it...and the vague chance of $500 every now and then? NOT worth it.

Want to see silly hipster tits who want to buy into a lifestyle for pocket change? Join suicide girls.

Want to see hot, tattooed, pierced, professionals getting fucked senseless? Burning angel. 

Ruined For The Real World...Monies

Whenever I bring up sex work with someone, the first thing they almost inevitably say is:

"Wow - you must make SO MUCH MONEY!".

But the thing is...that I actually don't. At least, I don't think that I do, or that many sex workers do, when compared with what people expect us to make. There is some kind of ridiculous assumption that anyone in the sex industry is quite literally rolling in hundred dollar bills...for the record, I have, once, taken home my cash from a week's dancing and rolled around in it. It was epic. It was movie-worthy. It was awesome. It was once.

For the record, most industry pros I know, whether they are dancers, camgirls, porn "stars", or escorts, run the gamut from barely surviving to being nicely off. But none of them are exactly on the road to beating out Bill Gates in terms of earnings. Even at the peak of my earnings, in pre-recession London, when I was earning somewhere between five hundred and a thousand pounds a night...well, I wasn't working that many nights!! It sounds very strange to people who work 40+ hours a week, every week, but one of the things that I have always loved about the industry is that I have the ability to just work a night or two. I can live for the week on what I earned Monday night, and be done with it...or I can go on a spending spree, and then just head back in the next day and do it all over again.

And therein lies the problem.

The major, monetary issue that I have with a vanilla job is that at this point, the concept of regulated and limited earnings scares the living bejeesus out of me. I would, quite literally, rather risk my grandmother stumbling across a clip of me with a giant dildo in my ass, than deal with the idea of a cap on my earnings.Of earning the same amount every day, every week - and having someone ELSE decide how much that is going to be.

The idea that some crazy stalker creep could hunt me down and introduce me to the intricacies of restraining orders? I'll cope. The idea that I would have to actually, gulp, budget? Sends me screaming for the hills.

The great joy, the great appeal of stripping, or camming, or whatever, is not that you necessarily DO make vast amounts of money, but that you CAN. Although I may end up making a couple hundred in a day, I start every single day with the awareness that it is perfectly possible that I will make ten grand that day. Or twenty. Or a hundred.

When I was dancing, the club I was at tracked the highest earning girl on a single night, and kept it posted to "inspire" us - the highest night came in at just under $30,000. I have personally watched a girl get 10K dropped on her. I watched at the end of the night as she asked for another envelope, and another, to fit all the money into. I saw the look of absolute shock and awe on her face - she couldn't believe it. I can barely believe it, but I was there. I was at the next table when the customer casually called the manager over to ask him to pull that much. And that whole night, I just kept thinking - that could have been me.

For the record, I have finally begun to approach my earnings like a real grown up, for once. I actually DO have budgets, and savings plans. After many years, I have figured out a way to make myself work every day, even when I have already made my rent. In fact, it looks like I will soon be making myself a tidy little living - even enough to warrant the assumption that I light my cigarettes with twenties.

Although the industry can be fickle, if someone offered me a vanilla job, working the same hours, with the same flexibility, for that same average earning - just guaranteed....I would turn it down. I wouldn't think twice. Even though I know that there will be weeks where I make less. Even though I know that there could be days where I make nothing.

I would turn it down just for the chance, the possibility that one day it could be MY day. One day I could be the one stuffing envelopes with a stunned look on my face. 

Have you ever bought a lottery ticket, and really, truly convinced yourself that you might just win? Got a little bit excited, a little bit twitchy? Had a little daydream about what you would do with the money, or how you would react when you found out? Don't you just love the spring it puts in your step, the butterflies in your stomach?

That is the joy of possibility. That is my every single day. That is yet another reason that taking on a vanilla job would feel like giving up on happiness, like purposely draining all the color from my world. Like seeing the rest of my financial life stretched out in front of me, flat and dull and predictable.

Like giving up on hope.

Bad Sex Positions: The Mother Theresa

Remember last time, when I talked about how trying really, really hard in bed can actually be a bad thing?

Well, it turns out that there is more than one way to be a little TOO "generous".

While some men are pounding away mercilessly at their victims (ahem. Partners.) as per their instructional porn, there are others who have swung so far in the other direction that they have practically gone full circle. These are the ones who would never dream of pounding away - not even if you beg them. They don't want a good ol fashioned dick sucking - they are different. They truly want to go down on you, instead. For hours. They want to take you to new heights. They want to make you orgasm so many times that your vagina just falls off right there and then, thus guaranteeing that no other man shall ever, EVER, make you feel so good.

Whether you like it, or not.

That is the thing about the Mother Theresa. He's still not listening to what you actually want. He's not responding to your body, or recognizing that maybe you have done enough exploratory research to have a general idea of what you like.

Nope. He has heard that the porn stars are doing it wrong, and has figured out that magic formula for doing it "right". It's simple, really. Do the exact, polar opposite of the porn star. Which means lots of lovely stroking....LOTS of oral.....lots of gentle sex. And if you suggest, for even a second, that you don't actually LIKE oral sex that much - well, you haven't had HIM do it yet.

Which is, frankly, just a little insulting. Why not tell him that he should let you fuck him with a strap on while connecting his nipples to a car battery and spraying whipped cream up his ass. Not into it? No, no no, honey. It's not that you aren't into it, it's that you just haven't had the right person do it yet.

Guess what? By the time that we get to a certain level of sexual experience (which is, really, any level) we have probably figured out what we really do like, what we really DON'T like, and what we aren't sure about yet. Deciding to override that in order to prove your dominance over the female orgasm is not, in fact, a generous act.

In reality, there is nothing charitable about giving your jaw a cramp to try and force a woman to orgasm, or refusing to let her near you while you slog away for hours on end trying to make her see God.

Yes, it seems fairly counter-intuitive. Yes, I can practically hear men tearing their hair out in response to the idea that not only do women not want what porn tells you they want, they also don't want the opposite. (This is why so many men are bald, but so few women. Men are easier to figure out in the sack, apparently.)

Put the follicles down, boys, and lean in while I tell you a secret about what women want.

It. Depends. On. The. Woman.

In fact, even with just one woman, it depends on the day, time, phase of the moon, movie she just watched and how many glasses of wine she just had. You will never, ever, find a magic formula for how to make every woman in the entire world cum. Because every woman in the entire world does it differently. Sorry.

Actually, I'm not sorry. I won't apologize for asking a man to be constantly aware of, and interacting with, the person he is having sex with. Sex is still a pretty intimate thing - and everyone should really be fairly cognizant of the responses of the person that they are currently having sex with.

It isn't a competition. It isn't a chance to prove that you are the "best she ever had". Even if it was, "best" isn't a keyword for "most consecutive orgasms". Seriously - the best sex I ever had is definitely not the leader in number of orgasms. Not even second. It also isn't a charity case, where you have to do penance for having a dick, and make it all about the other person, all the time. If she is really into you, then she probably would really like to make you happy, as well. Taking away that opportunity for yet another session of pussy-licking is actually pretty selfish. Ignoring her requests and responses in favor of what you just KNOW she will like "once she's had you do it" is definitely selfish - it is trying to prove that you are Number One. This isn't generosity, it is grandstanding. It is trying to elevate yourself above everyone else that she has ever had sex with, and really, doesn't that just seem like you are trying too hard? She's having sex with you now, buddy, isn't that enough? Do you really have to prove yourself, instead of just enjoying yourself? And if you do, well isn't that level of insecurity just a little bit sad?

 Are you so determined to mark your territory with her cum?

You may as well just pee on her and have done with it.

Pet Peeve 2: More is Always Better

In "How I Met Your Mother", there is a fantastic episode where Barney posits a new "rule"....New Is Always Better.

What follows is a hilarious attempt by Barney to prove this to Ted, going through Guns'n'Rose, Star Wars, and Scotch. If you haven't seen it, because you have been living under a rock, or recently had your sense of humor surgically amputated, here it is:

http://vimeo.com/16597496

When I saw that, it reminded me of a rule that some customers have apparently come up with "More is Always Better". That the worth of a camgirl is defined by the sheer number of things that she will do, or the extremity of those things.

It seems to absolutely baffle these guys when they see a camgirl doing well, getting tipped, and doing...."nothing". Or more accurately, sitting in her undies interacting and entertaining her room. This is utterly insane! How is it that she is doing better than so-and-so ten pages back? She just fired a basketball out of her ass, and got a BASKET!

What do you mean, you don't do anal/deepthroat/fisting/peeing/vomit/scat/standing on your head and sticking a hairdryer up your ass? How on EARTH do you make money?

Here's the thing - More ISN'T always better. The girl who is blowing your mind, being tipped for "just chatting"? I'll bet that she has spent months building up a clientele that love her. Making personal connections, remembering specific customers, letting them into her life (by talking about the real her, not just giggling and wiggling), making sure that she is on and available every single day...she's probably got a helluva personality, and guys are tipping her because she is entertaining them, and making them happy.

When guys ask me "what I do that makes it better than just watching porn", the answer is very simple. I interact. Depending on what you want, I might get to know you, or I might just be able to follow your instructions to the letter. I'll moan out your name, and I will actually be saying it to you. In real time.

It's not about how many things a girl can do, or how extreme she can get. It it about how good she is at what she does. No point in watching someone who can "do more" but does it badly. Or someone who is willing to roleplay the most taboo topics, if she can't actually play a role worth a damn.

To put it another way: Quality over Quantity.

Pet Peeve: I could buy an escort for that price!

There is a lot that I put up with on a daily basis, and for the most part, I do it with good humor and an internal eye-roll at the incredible stupidity of customers.

But there are a few comments that really get my eye twitching....and this one has got to be at the top of the list!

"$x an hour!! I could get an escort for that price!"

Well, yes. And?

The thing is, I am not an escort. Nor am I a stripper (any more), nor am I a body rub girl. Nothing against these other professions in my industry, you understand. I don't dislike escorts, or consider myself "better", it's just that I'm not one. In the same way that I don't dislike blondes, or tall women. I'm simply not blonde. Or tall.

Comparing a camgirl to an escort in terms of price is just nonsensical. There is no implicit hierarchy of the sex industry that states that one job is always more or less expensive than another. Admittedly, there is a difference in terms of what is usually spent in one session - a stripper is usually for a song, an escort for an hour, a cam girl anywhere from 5mins up. But if you look at the simple price-per-hour of each area of the industry, there is no clear winner in terms of "most expensive sex worker". You can find camgirls charging $0.99 a minute - $60 an hour. You can find a hooker for $60 an hour. Go to a full nude strip club, and you can see a stripper naked (or usually, several) for the cost of cover and a couple drinks - probably far LESS than $60 an hour. Or you can go to the other end of the spectrum entirely, and find escorts and strippers in the champagne room who expect at least four figures and - you can find camgirls and PSOs charging $50 a MINUTE.

So saying "I could get an escort for that" really makes no sense in terms of dollar value. You could also find escorts that would spit at your feet for offering them such a petty amount. It's all relative.

I understand, however, that most of the time, this statement is not meant to suggest that camgirls should always be cheaper than escorts, but (more annoyingly) that an escort is always the *best* option. That the only reason that someone would pay to see a camgirl perform is that they cannot afford to see a comparable escort or dancer.

Excuse me?

This is the part that really, REALLY makes me angry. In the same way that I don't think that I am *better* than an escort simply by virtue of my job, I certainly don't think that any escort is *better* than me. Physical penetration does not a better experience make.

There are so many reasons that customers choose to come to us instead of escorts. Maybe they feel that an escort would count as cheating on their partner (most partners would probably agree!) but that camgirls do not cross that line, because we are "internet porn". Maybe they are concerned about health, safety and legality. Maybe they would like to talk about a fetish, watch it, ease themselves into it or experiment with it, before actually doing it in person. Maybe they are in a situation where practicality dictates that an escort isn't possible - limited time, perhaps (after all, there is no waiting for a camgirl to get to you - we are insta-sex!), or they are in a physical location where they cannot bring in an escort (such as, oh, I don't know, downstairs while the wife is asleep? At work? On their iPad on the bus? Trust me, guys watch camgirls in all those places....and you can't just click away an escort if you hear someone coming!). For a lot of guys, cam sites are a great place to play a role - to change gender, age....or become a 6ft tall model/banker with a foot long dick. You can't just swan into an escort's place and announce that you are 150lbs lighter than you actually are! Yet if you don't turn on a webcam on your side of the computer, a camgirl will never know! Camgirls also won't know if you are a politician, a celebrity, or a tv evangelist.

I know that even if I chose to escort as well as cam, I would have two sets of customers - those that want to see a camgirl, and those that want to see an escort. There may be some crossover, yes. There may be some guys that would prefer to fuck me in real life - but there would be many, many more that would much prefer to stay safely at home, no matter what they "could buy" for the same price.

Essentially, camgirls and escorts are DIFFERENT. Yes, we are both in the same industry, but we are not the same thing. We do not provide the same service, so a comparison is pointless.

It would be like going into a spa, and saying "Good God! $100 to get a set of acrylic nails put on? I could get a massage for that!".
Or going to the box office.."The ballet is HOW MUCH? I could go to ten stand up comedy nights for the same price!"

Go on, try those ones. See how far it gets you.

Bad Sex Positions - The Porn Star

I once knew a man from Natnucket. Well, actually, from Melbourne, but he may as well have been, because his terrible bedroom habits made him his own punchline. Let's call him Mr Mustache - you'll see why in a minute.

Tall, toned, and handsome, Mr Mustache had no problem meeting women, or getting them to go home with him. He could charm the pants off pretty much anyone he met, but for some reason, he never seemed to be able to get them off a second time. This was a source of much wonder for the women he worked with (as a strip club bouncer) - everyone thought he was sweet, funny and kind - what, exactly, was he doing to these women that sent them running?

There were lots of theories, about size, stamina, fetishes, preferences....could he be stripping down to lace panties and begging to be peed on? Might he be so fit thanks to steroids, and as a result, kept a magnifying glass by the bed to help his dates find it?

What none of us expected was that we were dealing with.....The Porn Star.



This is a close relation of The Hammerhead, but just a little bit worse. Hard to believe, I know.

You see, where women have almost unlimited access to sex "tips" courtesy of women's magazines and gossiping girlfriends, men are somewhat more limited. The closest that I have ever come to hearing two guys talk about sexual positions is an urban-dictionary assisted conversation about what, exactly, a "Tony Danza" is. So a vast majority of guys are stuck getting most of their initial information from porn.

And when someone watches porn as a "how to", you run into certain....issues.

1. The angles that actors contort themselves into in a scene are not, usually, to maximize pleasure. Leaning back with one hand on your hip while pounding someone from behind doesn't necessarily make it "better", it just makes it easier for the cameraman to get a penetration shot.
2. Most actresses come into a scene with a certain amount of pre-lubrication. This is especially true of camgirls, most of whom will pre-lube as a matter of course, and usually top up as the day goes on. This means, boys, that it is usually not the case that every woman will be wet and willing by the time you pull her skirt up. Sometimes, yes. Always? No.
3. Most actresses actually spend a lot of time stretching. In more ways than one! Don't expect that your average lady can tickle her ears with her toes in both directions, or is capable of expanding various orifices to the size of a cola bottle.
4. Just because all you SEE is a woman taking it in the ass with absolutely no warning, doesn't mean that she has actually HAD no warning. Before a scene, participants discuss, at length, the acts that will be in that scene. If something happens, you can bet that it has been written into a contract, and often paid extra for. In general, the order of events is also pre-arranged, and it is about as surprising as the end of a Hugh Grant movie.
5. The standard order of the suck-n-fuck is designed to maximize the shots that a target audience will enjoy seeing. It is not a connect-the-dots manual to good sex.
6. Male porn stars stay in business because of their ability to remain hard, and orgasm on command. This is an incredible talent if you are looking to be a porn star, but really isn't THAT valuable in the bedroom. Especially if you have to rely on the tricks that many actors do - namely, distancing yourself completely from what is going on, and largely ignoring the person you are fucking. 

Even when you are in the business of pleasure, it is business, NOT pleasure, that is happening. Porn is an awesome way to get turned on, not to mention figuring out what, exactly, does the trick for you. But ladies and gents, porn is entertainment, not a training manual. I'll say it over and over again in these posts - good sex happens when you are both communicating, engaged, involved, enjoying.

Good sex is NOT following a pre-set routine, expecting your partner to become a human pretzel, making eye contact only with an invisible camera, or ramming a cock in anywhere you please without so much as a how-do-you-do.

Repeat after me: I am not a porn star. Movember gives me the right do terrible things to my facial hair, not my sexual partner.

Captain Save-a-Ho!

I realized, after my last post, that I referenced Captain Save-a-Ho without ever actually explaining who, exactly, that is. My bad.

You see, I am so used to referencing the good Captain that I forget, occasionally, that the vast majority of people have never met him. (And for the record, I cannot claim credit for the name - he was christened on a popular forum of sex workers - much as I wish the moniker was entirely my own creation)

Captain Save-a-Ho is a fascinating hero. He may not have a bat-cave, but he often does his work underground, and in secret - only occasionally being interrupted by his faithful apron-clad manservant bringing him cookies and Hawaiian punch. A stained t-shirt for his cape, and a lecherous, cheetos-smeared visage for his cowl, he stalks the dark alleys of the internet, searching for damsels in distress.

Or, damsels in various states of undress.

He leaps into action upon discovering a camsite.



He strikes! Fast as his fingers can type, he is fighting the villains of Low Self Esteem and Unworthiness! (That dastardly pair!)
He will beat them back with his most powerful weapon....wheedling.

"You are too cute to be doing this, bb!"
"You are so much better than this!"
"You could be doing anything, I believe in you! You don't have to do this!"
"Its ok, you can come live with me - I'll take care of you, and you'll never have to do this again!"




Come live with you? You mean, leave everything behind to come share some dingy basement suite with a total stranger off the internet and rely on his good charity to support me?
Gee, that DOES sound better than paying for my own townhouse, where I live with my cat, dog, and partner. Servicing you as a "way out" seems MUCH more reasonable than utilizing my qualifications as an interior designer, my experience as a body piercer, or finishing that law degree I started way back before I decided that I would rather NOT work 80 hours a week.
Sucking your pasty white dick while you search for other women to "save from degradation" is, indeed, preferable to simply strapping on the green apron and slinging lattes for $9 an hour and still supporting myself.

I know that I could do something else. Funnily enough, I do this because I enjoy it.

My favorite phrase of the veritable army of Captain Save-a-Hos that I come across (giggidy) in my daily life is that I am "too beautiful to do this". Really? Because, of course, people that make a living turning others on should all be hunchbacked lepers. Obviously. Being physically attractive is of SUCH practical use in other occupations.

A close second is that this must be "so degrading"...always followed rapidly by the offer of somewhere to stay while I "figure things out". I'm guessing that if I took anyone up on that offer, the first thing I would be figuring out is how to get out of these damn zip ties, and what in the room could be used as a weapon. But even assuming the offer is "genuine", I am at a loss to understand how fucking a stranger for money is LESS degrading than fucking myself for the money and independence.

It is still frustrating. It is annoying to deal with them online, and it is even more frustrating to deal with the Caped Ho-Saver in real life. It drives me to distraction trying to explain (for the thousandth time) that I chose my profession. And that I made that choice the same way that most people do - somewhere between drifting, training, and figuring out what makes you happy. That I do not intend to "get out", that I am not "ashamed'.

Of course, compared to some of the other characters that I meet through my screen, Captain Save-a-Ho is actually kinda cute. Harmless, helpless - a small child dressing up in the contents of the kitchen cupboards and playing at being a knight. The intentions are good, after all.

Much, much worse, are those Captains who keep their secret identity, well, a secret. Online, at least, the capes are a-swirling - you can spot a Saver right off the bat, and offer up a small prayer of gratitude for the ban button. Out in the real world, they are less obvious - the bastards can sneak up on you. Just a little pressure. Just a little comment about when you will get "a real job". Just a little secret, just a little sneer. Just a little moment, where you can see them wince when you casually mention your work. Just a suggestion of doing something else, of not telling someone else, of keeping it a dirty little secret.

At least Captain Save-a-Ho is upfront with his misbegotten misogyny. Either way, I'm hardly in the market to be saved, but I'd rather fight off Captain Save-a-Ho than the Incredible Jerk.

Cumming as a Compliment

Isn't it great when men work really, really hard to be less selfish in bed?

Well actually, NO.

There are times when good intentions really do pave the way to hell - and the seventh circle is being stuck under Captain Never Cum.

Oh, Captain Never Cum. Close friend of Captain Save-a-Ho, this is one of those men who think that they truly, deeply, understand what a woman needs, and provide that at all times, even when it really fucking annoys the woman that they are with.

Once upon a time, Captain Never Cum heard that women don't like a man who has no stamina. Maybe he heard a joke about his arch-nemesis, Dr Quick Draw, and decided that he would never, ever, subject a woman to an unfulfilling quickie. Like all wannabe superheros, he spends vast amounts of time training, coming up with gadgets, tricks, and techniques to hold his orgasm at bay. The ultimate student will learn to prolong his finale INDEFINITELY - remaining hard for days at a time to provide unlimited orgasms to the lucky lady that falls into his arms. 

Of course, the problem with this is that few women actually want a man that will keep pounding away ad infinitum until she has to beg him to stop. Here is a little hint: Being told "God, Stop! I just cant TAKE any more!"  actually means "for the love of God, I surrender, let me sleep".

Men, unless you happen to be fucking an egocentric bitch, believe me when I say that she would really like to make you cum. Of course, if you ARE fucking an egocentric bitch for the sheer hell of it - why do you care about making her happy? Masturbate into that breathing sex doll and GTFO.

That unpleasantness aside...in the same way that I sincerely hope that you enjoy seeing a lady in the throes of passion, she really wants to feel like she is so incredible that you just can't help it. We are trained to believe that guys are simmering volcanoes of sexual energy, and restraining yourself for more than a song is a superhuman act; when you don't behave that way, it kinda makes us feel inadequate.

Imagine for a moment that you are with a woman, pulling out all the stops, showing off your forays into internet research, gyrating, stroking, nibbling, swinging from the chandeliers.....but try as you might, she just isn't getting there. Would you feel fulfilled? Would you feel as though you were blindingly sexy, incredibly talented, the lover to take her to new heights of pleasure? Or would you feel more like a tourist in Times Square, desperately trying to make sense of a crumpled map. You KNOW you can get there - dammit, you know that everyone ELSE has made sense of this...what are you doing WRONG?

Well, women aren't that different from men in that sense, except that we have been conditioned to believe that the female orgasm is an elusive little pixie - constantly dashing, giggling, out of the way - while the male orgasm is barely restrained while buying groceries. Which makes it that much worse to try your hardest, and still fail.

I, for one, would much rather feel the warm glow of satisfaction over being so incredible that you just can't hold back, then the warm glow of working up a sweat trying to coax a single bead of pre-jack from Captain Never Cum. Put your capes away for a while - how about just enjoying getting fucked, for once? That medal that you get for longest session ever - it comes with a matching medal for your partner. And no woman wants to win the gold for taking longest to get him off. Congratulations! Worst fuck ever! He only got there after eight hours and thinking about someone else!

Only a masochist would try to win THAT prize a second time...

Inappropriate Ettiquette - Getting Head

I am always amazed when I hear a man talk about getting a "bad blow job". Just the thought of "bad head" blows my mind (giggidy). Seriously guys, you got a pretty girl to put your penis (and probably a little scrotum) in her mouth, just to make you feel good. There ain't a new mystery g-spot in the back of the female throat, so be grateful.

On top of that, in order to really suck at giving head (wow, the puns just write themselves today), you really have to be willfully ignorant. If you aren't at work (or your cubicle doesn't face the hallway), google "how to give a bj", and you will find hundreds of thousands of articles, blogs, sites, videos (!), jokes, memes, columns and forums all on how, exactly, to ensure that you suck cock like a gold medalist. That bible of sex tips, Cosmo, comes up with new possibilities every single month. Surely, there are only so many ways to stick a dick in your mouth? But apparently not - no, sex-ologists are undoubtedly beavering away (ha!) in a lab right now, coming up with ever new and better ways to get on your knees and make your man happy.

It isn't just technique - although, that has a lot to do with it. No, there are also tools that you can use (ice cubes, peppermint tea, flavored lubes and condoms, pop rocks, cock rings, vibrating bullets...), ways to position your entire body to get a better angle, exercises to strengthen your jaw and tongue for better longevity....as if finding the time and willpower to work out your ass, arms and abs wasn't enough, now the modern super woman should be pumping and stretching her mandibles too? Makes me exhausted just thinking about it. 

And the thing that really amazes me is that in amongst this veritable sea of orgasm-inducing-oral information, there is nothing on how the recipient should behave. There is a LOT on how to persuade/manipulate a girl into doing it, but nothing on what to do once she is. This disparity makes it even more confusing - if you know how to make someone happy that they sucked your dick, they'll probably do it more often.

So here are the big ones - the commandments - the never-discussed and oft-ignored rules for what to do when you are getting head.

1. Stop trying to make it last longer than the entire Oscars ceremony. We get it, it feels good or the receiving end. But on the giving end, it's not all that comfortable. If you don't believe me, kneel naked on the floor and slam a cucumber into the back of your throat for 20 mins or so. You start to bruise (or possibly gag, depending on the combination of throat/dick sizing), your knees start to hurt, your jaw starts to ache with the sucking. Enjoy a little oral, and then bring her back up for some two-way fun. If she knows that the instant she drops below nipple-level she'll be there for the rest of the night, it'll be far less likely to happen.

2. On a related note - stop concentrating so hard on not cumming that you become little better than a grunting corpse. Again, yes, it feels good. But the thing is, we actually like to get some feedback to that effect. Remember the starfish that I talked about a while ago? I am eternally amazed by how many men bitch about it, then as soon as they get a set of lips on their manhood, lie back and think of baseball. Guess what? We don't like giving our all to a silent house any more than you do! Moan a little, move a little. Gasp and tell us how good it feels. She is the one with a mouth too full to speak, not you - and a little encouragement goes a long way!!

3. Speaking of encouragement - using her hair like a handle isn't usually the best idea, but it also isn't the worst one. Volumes of Cosmo aside, most women are actually a little nervous about how "good" they are, and a little guidance isn't the worst thing in the world. Just try not to dislodge the brain while you are doing it.

4. Unless you are REALLY sure that she is into it, stop when you feel gagging. Yes, I know that it makes you feel like Sir Big Dick, but that feeling will rapidly fade when you find yourself in the clinic because someone vomited directly into your urethra.

5. Say thank you. Especially if the lady just sucked your dick like the world's best popsicle and swallowed with a smile. Seriously - didn't your mother teach you any manners?

Halloween Sluts - Part 2

If you read my last post, you'll know that my main problem with slutty Halloween costumes is that they fail as costumes. (And if you haven't read the last one - what are you doing? Go read it!!)

I do, however, have a secondary motive for disliking most of the slutty costumes, and this one isn't as pure as my love of good cos-play. This one is motivated by good old fashioned greed.

If it were up to me, I would go back to the days where women wore floor-length dresses, and a glimpse of a well-turned ankle was enough to send your average man into fits of passion.

Lets face it, as a worker in the sex industry, the rarer it is for men to see some naked flesh in their daily lives, the more likely they are to come see me. It may be selfish, but heck, strippers aren't really known for their generosity!

This has been getting worse and worse lately - to the extent that about half of the slutty costumes I see are actually made by companies like Leg Avenue - which makes stockings and costumes for dancers. Most sex shops have Halloween sales so that women can come buy costumes from them, and even the costume companies that aren't based in the sex industry are mostly rip-offs of the costumes made for the sex industry.

At this point, Halloween in the entertainment district of a major city looks like a giant strip club. The women are wearing the same clothes (down to the brand name), drinking, flirting with strangers, and by the end of the night, usually getting closer to naked than they started (not far to go, in many cases).

All of which is hardly good news for strippers. After all, why would you pay to go to a dingy bar where the drinks are overpriced and the women will only get naked for $40, and have you thrown out if you so much as stroke a thigh, when you could go three doors down, and find cheaper drinks and looser women? The chance of your average guy going home with a stripper is about a thousand to one, but the chance of being able to take home a drunken "sexy nurse" is about 50/50.

It's as though it suddenly became socially acceptable to bring a keg out into the street, and start pouring everyone free beer. The bars would be mighty pissed off about it.

Halloween Sluts - Part One

I LOVE Halloween.

I love dressing up, I still love candy - as much as I really shouldn't eat it anymore....I love watching little kids in costume, I love martinis with radish-eyeballs, I love carving pumpkins, and I love costumes.

Well, I love most costumes. Of course, there is one costume that I cannot stand. The "slutty drunk girl on Halloween costume". *shudder

First off, I can absolutely understand the drive behind the slutty costumes. I was a stripper, for God's sake - of course I understand the joy of being overtly sexual, of having eyes on you, of feeling gorgeous and wanted and sexy. One of the great joys of dancing (and camming, to an extent) is that you get to feel like a sex-kitten every day. I understand that for most women, that isn't an option, and the chance to let the inner slut shine is one to be taken advantage of.

However.

The issue that I have with the "slut" costume is that it isn't actually a costume. It is an excuse to wear a tight, short dress, or booty shorts and a bra, or maybe just some carefully places triangles.

I love costumes. I have great respect for good costumes, and since I was a kid,  I always fought to try and make the best, most original, most interesting costume. I even won a prize once, when I went as a lego brick (it was a box painted red, with circles on the front and arm holes. It was also awesome). I have tried to create costumes on my own, as part of groups, pairs and theme nights.

If it was up to me, I would wear costumes all the time, but sadly, I am limited to ComiCon and Halloween.

And THAT is why the slut-trend bothers me so much, because it puts emphasis on how slutty someone looks, rather than how good the costume is.  It ruins Halloween as a cos-play holiday, and turns it into a slutty holiday. And that just leaves me with ComiCon, where I'm both limited in scope, and way out of my league.

To top it all off, there are plenty of costumes that can be accurate and carefully put together, but that are incredibly slutty. Start with any female comic book character ever - all drawn by men, for men, and most of them are as pornographic as the drawings in 60's Playboy. Add to that pretty much every female Sci-Fi character, about half of the TV and Movie characters, most cartoon characters, a good chunk of female sportspeople (ballerinas, cheerleaders...).....there is a range of costume-appropriate sluttiness so wide that no one should ever have a problem finding a way to show off their boobs while still wearing something that is an actual costume.

My issue is with the costumes that are basically just "sexy" in front of any word, ever. Sexy tweetie bird. Sexy prisoner. Sexy teddy bear. Sexy shoe. Sexy toothbrush. All of the above are lycra mini dresses with an accessory. And none of them are made up.

For the love of all things cos-play - this halloween, if you want to be a "sexy" something, just make sure that the something is actually sexy, ok?

Here is a little test for you to try and figure out if your costume is actually a costume, or an excuse to look like a tramp:

Imagine that someone is asking you what you are supposed to be.
If they have to ask, it's not a costume.

Ruined for the Real World

Occasionally, I realize that I am nearing my 30s. It scares the living beejezus out of me, mostly because I always assumed that I would be a sorted, responsible adult by this point.

I had visions of myself at this point, having collected a husband, a home and a honda, and toiling at some sort of adult career. More to the point, the idea was that I would be capable of running a household, cooking wholesome meals, and generally getting shit done.

Well that didn't happen. Oops.

Now, I approach my 30s with the same dread that I used to approach the principle's office. Its the sinking feeling that I know that I have misbehaved and should feel bad and try to straighten up and fly right, but damned if throwing spitwads just isn't more fun.

I blame the sex industry.

I don't blame the sex industry for much, but I am sure that it is the reason that I fail quite so spectacularly at being a functional adult.

For the past decade, I have had no real responsibilities. I am not working towards any particular future, I don't have to worry about a professional reputation, largely because I don't have to worry about interviews, background checks, any of it. I've got perkies and a pulse, I'll get a job! I've had no need to plan or budget, no one to answer to if I sleep in, turn up late, or go home early. I can (and do) drink on the job, take unlimited smoke breaks, and have as many holidays as I want. I can also continue to pierce and tattoo my entire body. It actually helps me earn more. 

Because of this, I have completely forgotten everything that I had started to learn as a lowly office worker in my early twenties. I know that at one point, I was capable of getting up early, hitting the gym, working a full eight hours, and picking up dinner ingredients on the way home. But I have NO IDEA how I did those things. I try, occasionally, to do it again, but by the time I have spent one whole day doing things, I feel like I need a break. Then I spend the next day on the couch, drinking wine straight from the bottle and watching entire seasons of Star Trek at a time.

Occasionally I meet, or socialize with people who decided to actually grow up, and are real adults. I look at them with the same expression my dog has when she sees me work the can opener.

On one hand, I could make a real effort to learn how to be an adult again. I could assume that at some point, I will have to get a vanilla job, stock up on suits and just glory in my current world of irresponsible semi-alcoholism.

Alternatively, I can assume that by the time I am ready to stop diddling myself for rent money, I will be a published writer. And then I can live out my days in the same way - sleeping till nine, drinking at noon, working sporadically and whenever inspiration strikes. I have to assume that there are others like me who never got the instruction manual on becoming Marge Simpson, and maybe we can get together for afternoon martinis and laugh at people who struggle to get six hours of sleep.

I'd rather be a Lost Girl than a Grown Woman.

"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!”

Bad Sex Positions; Starfish/Hammerhead

The Starfish.

We all know it. Some of us have done it, some have had it done to us.

Even me. Sad to say, but once upon a time, I found myself in a situation where I really wanted to have sex with someone, but by the time we actually got around to it, I was, well.....bored. First, we were going to go for a drink. Then we realized that despite being legal in the UK (where I was living and where we met) I wasn't legal in the state I was visiting, so nuts to that. Then we were going to get a bottle and take it back to his, but realized that the liquor store was closed. We got back to his place, but then he was uncomfortable because he didn't know when his roommate was coming home, so I sat through an awkward ten-minute conversation while he called said roommate and told him to stay out for a while. After all that, sex was a foregone conclusion, but an hour of logistics had pretty much killed the moment, cut it up into pieces, stuck them in garbage bags and thrown them in the river. I didn't have the heart to just walk out, but I also couldn't muster the enthusiasm to put in any real effort.

Enter, the starfish. Get naked (or not, it's really just about the vital bits for this one), lie on your back, and think of England. Or your shopping list. Or whether or not you think you might be able to reach a nailfile, because that damn index finger got caught and has been bugging you all day. And then....wait. Just wait for it to be done, and hope that it's better next time.

For the record, there was no next time. Thank God.

But the Starfish has a terrible counterpart in the world of aquatic sex positions - the Hammerhead.

Guys - I know that you think that stamina is a vital part of good sex, but it really isn't. Trust me, there is very little worse than having someone frantically pound away like they are attempting to sand down your vagina while staring REALLY hard at the headboard for an hour. With the possible exception of hammering away like they are attempting to sand down your vagina while staring REALLY hard at the photo of an ex they taped to the headboard.

Both positions are, essentially, the same thing. Minimal interaction or response to the other person. Really, you get get the same effect by masturbating, and even then, only the laziest hitachi moments compare to the Starfish. Sex is one of the few arenas where you actually DO get points for participation - so put in some freaking effort!!

Ladies, for the love of all things dirty, either turn it down or get involved. Really, just walking out will probably be more satisfying than starfish sex - for both of you. Drinking and bitching about the one who walked out is just as valid as drinking and bitching about the one who checked out. And you'll look better for it - while I don't actually believe that people can be "bad in bed", just "bored in bed", you don't want to carry the starfish label. You don't.

Gentlemen, it's really ok if you don't last the entire night. In fact, it's actually kinda flattering if you just can't hold back. (Just make sure that you both get there in the end, ok? God gave you fingers and a tongue for a reason.) Just try and pay attention to the gal who is under you - maybe flip her on top of you, if that helps. There is plenty of time to think about fat chicks/your grandmother/baseball when you aren't getting any.  And if you are a Hammerhead, there will be plenty of times when you aren't getting any.

Next time on Bad Sex Positions: The Porn Star

The Ultimate Question!

Does Size Matter?

There have been so many more interesting, more important, more thoughtful questions asked, but this one seems to be the big one (pun intended)! So many guys ask me - on cam I get asked about size at least 20 times a day.  Sometimes it is asked outright, sometimes it is hinted at and danced around - do you prefer big dicks? Whats the smallest dick you've fucked? Whats the biggest? Sometimes things get very anatomical - how many inches? How many in diameter? If it's thick, does it have to be long (and vice versa)? Is six inches ok? Is 5? What about 8? As though there is an exact figure that will guarantee orgasms at twenty paces...

So why is it that size matters so much to the people doing the asking? Guys with small dicks trying to convince themselves that it doesn't, guys with big dicks trying to guarantee their studliness, guys with little dicks who want to have them made fun of, guys with big dicks trying to prove they are getting women off with skill and not just hardware...Size is, apparently, huge.

So here is the answer - but you aren't going to like it. Maybe you would if the post was just a little bigger...

Size does matter. It also doesn't.

The thing is, I've had a lot of sex, with a lot of different dicks. I've had dicks so small they were like a bad punchline, and dicks so big that they felt just like an actual punch to the ladybits. And the size was never the determining factor in how much my mind was blown. Not once.

I've had phenomenal sex with guys who are smaller than average - eyes rolling back and head popping off sex (makes me kinda wet just thinking about it). I've had some of the most godwaful, boring, and even painful sex with guys who were hung like the proverbial horse. What made the difference was a whole lot of things - foreplay, level of attraction, passion, drunkenness...

Yet I'm still a size queen. I love a nice, big, cock. Who doesn't? If you still want facts and figures, ideally you are looking at 8-9", proportionately thick, straight, and generally pretty. For the record, this is the only part of a man's body where tattoos do NOT turn me on. And yes, I've seen those.

But I also love a guy who knows what he is doing, who cares about whether or not I am having fun. I want guys that feel connected when we fuck - eye contact, non-sexual touching, kissing, hair pulling...reacting to what I am doing. You could have the world's prettiest cock, but if you are just masturbating into me, the best thing about sex with you will be the cigarette.

Twitter Questions!

@DeniedBoy asked:

"1. By natural, are you dom, sub or switch?
2. Do you like ballbusting?
3. Do you think about opening a clip store?"

1. I'm a switch! Although on cam, I only dom - too many online guys try to dom without any respect for the sub, push boundaries, and generally act like asshats! So when I am on cam, I do vanilla shows, fetish shows and dom shows.

2. My favorite ways to dom are SPH (I LOVE this - it honestly makes my day every time someone requests it!), cuckolding, sissy girls, fin dom (especially blackmail) & forced bi. I much prefer humiliation rather than physical pain. That said, if you really deserve it, I will go to town on you!

3. I have a clip store!! This is the link: SeeMooreScarlett (if you have links disabled, it is www.clips4sale.com/50591). I also do custom clips - just e-mail me with your request!

If you have any burning questions for me, you can tweet, e-mail, fb, or even come into my live show and ask in person!! I will answers questions on my blog as often as I get ones that are worth answering...("Will you come fuck me" is NOT worth answering. Just saying)

Stalking ISN'T Love! Now Stop It!

Full Article Here

A friend of mine in Vancouver sent me a link to this article earlier this week, and I couldn't help but think of it when I was listing the scariness that is Christian Grey. You see, this kind of behavior is exactly the kind of crap that we are going to run into if pop culture keeps holding up characters like Mr Grey and Edward (of Twilight fame) as examples of what women want in a man.

The article describes a man who went on vacation from Canada to Ireland last year. While he was there, he met a woman, and he has decided that he fell so in love with this woman that he is going to travel back to Ireland to try and be with her.

How sweet, right? Well, it would have been if he had, say, met this woman, had a holiday romance with her, kept in touch, and then decided that he was willing to risk it all to be with her, leaving his family, friends and life behind.

But that isn't what happened. In fact, he doesn't even know the woman's name (thank god, for her sake). She isn't someone that he had many conversations with, or saw multiple times during his holiday. No, this is a woman who gave him directions to a tourist attraction. Once. Over a year ago.

And now, he is not only actually flying across the world to try and find her, but he is actively involving the media to try and make it easier.

Any way you slice it, this is scary stuff. Just imagine it - some random person that you gave polite information to a long time ago might have spent the intervening months creating a fantasy where you are the only one for him (or her - frankly, I'm kind of surprised it's a dude, as this smacks of bat-crap-crazy-girl behavior). And now he is coming for you. Gonna hunt you down like a dog, and when he announces that intention to the world, he isn't wrestled to the ground by armed police. Nope, the world's media has apparently been watching too many romantic comedies in it's pjs while eating cookie dough straight out of the tube, because it breathes a collective sigh and decided to HELP this crazy bastard.

To me, this is the plot of an episode of "Criminal Minds" not "Sex And The City". If I was living in Ireland right now, and had happened to have given directions to someone, I'd be dying my hair and stocking up on mace (and possibly bullets). I'd be wondering if its possible to build up a tolerance to chloroform.

Best case scenario, she is single, was attracted to him, and they have a short but awkward relationship that ends because it's really difficult trying to build a relationship with someone who has basically declared undying love on the first date. It's also impossible that she would ever live up to the fantasy that he has created in him mind over the past year. Finally, it's never a great way to build trust, knowing that your partner is emotionally unstable, and might declare undying love for a total stranger at any moment. Awkward, but oh well.

More realistic scenarios include:

- She is married, and her husband gon' be PISSED.
- She is gay.
- She is smart enough to be scared off by this psychotic behavior.
- She is nothing like his memory of her, and he can never find his fantasy woman because he wouldn't recognize her again if he saw her, and he is never able to actually have a decent relationship again, constantly pining over "the one that got away".
- She is found several weeks later, tied to a chair, and needs therapy for the rest of her life.
- She is found in a ditch. Well, most of her.

*shudder

50 Reasons to Hate Grey

Christian Grey is a dick.

OK, that's not really a reason, or a major issue for a fictional character. Some of my favorite literary figures are assholes of one kind or another. It makes them interesting, gives them depth, creates a certain relatability, given that few real people don't have at least a touch of the jerk to them.

The issue that I have with Mr Grey, therefore, is not that he is a dick, but that he isn't presented as a dick. He is drawn as the prince of the Shades of Grey trilogy, and not even a prince in disguise. E L James created him to be a slightly dark and complicated hero, but a hero nonetheless - the kind of man that women would swoon over, search for, hold up as an ideal of what love truly is.

Apparently, if you love someone, you should do this stuff:

1. He pursues a woman while believing that he will damage her.
What an amazing man, totally at the mercy of his overwhelming feelings toward her - that even though he knows that she is an "innocent", he just can't help himself but to keep going after her! Awwwwww.....
 OR - what a completely selfish thing to do. This is not a man who is stupid, or lacks willpower, remember. This is apparently a multi-billionaire, smart and ruthless enough to build his empire by his mid-twenties, more than capable of making hard decisions. He recognizes that he shouldn't do something, but then does it anyway, and calls that love.

2. He takes stalking to the level of an Olympic sport. Within an HOUR of meeting this woman, he gets every scrap of information possible about her, her family, and her friends, and has no compunction about using it to find her.

3. He is a criminal. Whoops - E L James just quietly glosses over the fact that throughout the books, he rides roughshod over a wide range of laws. Starting with his stalker tendencies, which break a whole bunch of privacy laws (digital and otherwise), as well as put him involved in hacking (the only way to get most of that information so quickly would be to hack various databases). He assaults or pays to have assaulted Ana's first employer, and arranges to have him fired illegally (it wouldn't have been difficult to go through the proper channels, but instead he goes the hired thug route. Classy). His "rescue" of Ana plays jump rope with the line between saving and kidnapping, and he buys a company in which he has a personal interest without disclosing that to shareholders.

4. He chooses to take the law into his own hands, rather than calling the police. At several points, he actively decides to avoid "bringing the police into this", even with "this" puts various people's lives in danger. Nope, the big strong Mr Grey can handle it on his own. God complex, anyone?

5. He continues to play with the feelings of ex-partners. He keeps Elena in his life, encouraging and working with her, despite her obvious feelings for him. He then cruelly play with her - alternately shutting her out and having clandestine meetings with her. He also makes sure that even though he is finished with his past sub, he keeps control over her by supporting her financially, keeping her in his debt.

6. He blames Ana for her behavior when she is tipsy, but encourages her to drink at all times. And I mean ALL times. On the plus side, reading this book will make you feel much better about your own consumption, no matter how much that is.

7. He is freakishly jealous. To the point that he buys a series of portraits of her, despite the fact that she is embarrassed about them. He does this not because he thinks her so beautiful, or wants her to have them for when she is old and grey (geddit?), but because he doesn't want anyone else to be able to look at her.

8. He apparently has a magic penis. Although you would never know it, as the word "penis" is never used. Nor is "cock", "dick" or really anything that isn't a ridiculous euphemism - "length", "hardness"....occasionally "erection" if James is feeling particularly raunchy. The way I see it, he must have bought himself a medical research team to make sure that he can ejaculate repeatedly within a short space of time, ejaculate either without losing an erection, or with the ability to lose and regain a hard-on within minutes, and have complete control over his own orgasms. Not much for your boyfriend to live up to, then.

9. He also has the magic gift of the orgasm. Now this is an impossible standard for the ladies AND the men to live up to. Men, you should be able to make your gal cum with a flick of her nipple. If you can't, then either you are a terrible lover or she is a frigid bitch. Oh, and you MUST make her orgasm every single time, preferably repeatedly. Women, if your man doesn't make you instantly wet at all times of day and night, and if you cannot force your body to orgasm, you fail. The man hands out orgasms like complimentary mints - no pressure.

10. He doesn't want her to have a career. I have no problems with women who decide that they would rather make a career of their family, vounteering, whatever. I DO have a problem with a man that repeatedly encourages his wife/gf to leave the job that she loves, because he doesn't want her to work, earn money, or generally have independence.

11. When he can't make her leave her career, he has a nifty little trick that allows her to keep it, but actually stops it from being hers, and makes it his instead. This trick is called "buy the company she works for and give it to her". Seems like a big romantic gesture, actually is just a way of giving her his money and taking away any excuse she could have for working instead of seeing him - she never has to worry about her professional reputation or being fired.

12. He teaches her that BDSM is actually just something that emotionally damaged people do. It is made very clear that the ONLY reason he got into this lifestyle is that he needed an outlet for his damaged soul. Now that she has "healed" him, he doesn't need such things anymore. God forbid that she ever discovers a fetish of her own, or it'll be off to therapy!

13. Oh wait, he already put her in therapy.

14. He pushes her to move ridiculously quickly. By the end of the third book, they are married and pregnant....and the trilogy takes place over the span of about a YEAR. Maybe a year and a half. That timetable is - meet, fall in love, and move in together within a couple of months. Then get engaged immediately, plan a wedding in a few months, get married, immediately get knocked up. This is not romantic, this is rushing.

15. He is moody. I am so sick of "romantic" men always acting like teenage girls on their period. You know what's really romantic? Emotional stability.

16. He is either a liar or a psychological marvel. I vote liar, but I know that James wanted it to be the second option, which is insulting to both the entire profession of psychology AND anyone who is working through their own issues. The guy has spent 20 years being fucked up, trying to work through his past, paying reams of psychologists and therapists, but to no avail. He was so damaged that he was mute for a time, and still has a severe touch phobia. But once he meets Ana, all of this goes away. Within a year. Sure, he is still jealous, possessive, demanding, demeaning...but he has completely got over all of his major trauma. Riiiiight.

17. He believes that anyone can be bought, and that money trumps all. Throughout the book, he pays people obscene amounts of money to work outside of their offices and office hours. He just "makes a call" and the best doctors, security men, whatever...pop up. Out of nowhere. To make housecalls. Never mind that his desire to force his girlfriend to take hormones can wait a day or two, nope, he needs to bribe a woman away from her day off to deal with it NOW. Because he can.

18. He believes that birth control is the woman's problem. No matter that he can (and does) use condoms until she has capitulated, it is all up to her. There is never a discussion of WHETHER she wants to go on birth control, if she is comfortable with taking large amounts of synthetic hormones, there is just a phone call to a doctor. Apparently she discusses options with that doctor, but I'm guessing that "keep using condoms" wasn't one of them.

19. He has no problem with blackmail. In fact,  he keeps photos in his safe for that exact reason.

20. Wait, that doesn't make sense. The photos exist to prevent women from coming out to the media about the type of relationship they have had with him. But what would the photos DO, exactly? If the woman actually came out to the media, releasing the photos would just add fuel to the fire - the woman has already admitted what she did, so what difference would photos make to her? Or does he continually threaten to send them to her loved ones to keep her from telling anyone.....which still doesn't make sense, because if he released the photos, everyone would know his predilections. Methinks this may be another lie, and he just likes to jack off to his conquests. Or E L James didn't think that through.

21. He is deeply into the BDSM scene, but uses completely incongruous language. "Behind"? Seriously???

22. He is deeply into the BDSM scene, but considers it a dirty and shameful secret. Back to the blackmail here - despite owning his own companies, not being involved in politics, and not having a board of directors to answer to (or products that could really be boycotted) he is deeply afraid of anyone finding out that he like the occasional spanking. I'm aware that, sadly, this is fairly common, but it's not something that we should be applauding.

23. He is completely unforgiving. Of everyone. Always. Do not cross the Grey, or you will never be able to make it up to him. Most notably, despite 20 years of therapy (or thereabouts) he still cannot even BEGIN to forgive his birth mother. I'm sure that at some point in there, at least one therapist would have suggested the referring to her only as "the crack whore" does nothing but perpetuate his anger. No?

24. He fires people at the drop of a hat. Ruthless businessman, sure, that's a good quality. SO ruthless that you fire people before even ascertaining the situation, or whether they were at fault - not so good.

25. He has very little respect for other people. This crosses a lot of things - his insta-firing, his blackmailing, his interruption of professionals personal lives...but he gets a special mention for the PDA that crosses into obscenity. In one elevator scene, he is basically fingering Ana in a crowded lift, which is supposed to be "hot" and show how passionate they are. I just feel sorry for the other people. Apparently he doesn't care if he is making anyone else uncomfortable or upset - in fact, that makes it hotter.

26. He presents himself as a BDSM master, King of Kink.....but really, the things he does are fairly tame, even when talking about his "Red Room of Pain". I'm aware that this is yet another fault of the ill-informed author, not the character, but still. Two whole books to stick a finger in her ass? Oooh.....filthy.

27. He has a serious superiority complex. It is far too dangerous for HER to drive a jetski, but he can do it, because he is so much better. He knows what is best. He knows what he is doing. She is clearly incapable.

28. He loves to show off his money, even if it makes her uncomfortable. Despite her constant references to how uncomfortable she feels when he is being lavish, he tells her to "get used to it", but doesn't actually give her a chance to ease into it, because he is constantly dropping tens of thousands of dollars on her. Daily.

29. He loves to show off, period. And who doesn't love a man who bases every date around yet another thing he owns/does/can do? Being impressed with yourself is such an attractive quality.

30. He's clean shaven and un-tattooed. Ok, that is totally a personal preference......but if you are going to write such a caricature of a "bad boy" at least give him something!!!

31. He is one of those guys that likes to date thin women, but tries to make them fat. If you don't already know, this is one of the techniques most commonly employed by abusive partners - getting a woman to gain weight so that they feel unattractive and are less likely to leave. He is constantly haranguing her about food, telling her to eat when she is not hungry, giving her seriously rich foods...and then he uses backhanded compliments when she (obviously) gains weight.

32. He is unbelievably controlling. It had to be in the list somewhere.

33. He is rude to her best friends, and tries to prevent her seeing them. Nice. Also an abusive relationship sign, being cut off from friends. Later in the books, he puts up with them, but he's still not happy about it.

34.  He fishes for compliments. Oh, who me? I have a musical talent? I have an amazing voice? Oh I had no idea you were listening....

35. He makes a big scene about wanting her to be healthy, and how she HAS to get 8 hours sleep a night or will be punished, then gets out of bed every night and plays the damn grand piano. Have you ever heard a grand piano? They be loud.

36. Also on the grand piano thing, either he had one specially designed for sex, or we have discovered more magical powers. I've modeled on a grand. That whole scene was just flat out wrong.

37. When she leaves him (and with good reason!!) he makes a giant production out of it, then guilts the hell out of her by hinting at suicidal thoughts. Very mature and emotionally stable. Way to recognize your own faults in your actions, not just your words.

38. He claims that she is "special", yet he makes it clear to her that she is being given the same clothes, stylist, doctor, trainer, and car as every other girl he has been with. I feel so special!

39. He forces her to sell her beloved first car. I don't know about you, but I absolutely adored my first car - it was a beat up old piece of crap, but it had great sentimental significance. It's clear that hers does too, but oh well. Never mind.

40.He loves to make her feel stupid. When it comes to technology and sex, especially - constantly smirking at her, being very patronizing when explaining things, etc etc. Of course, this is mitigated slightly by how very stupid she is. (Who the heck goes through college but doesn't know how to research a topic online???)

41. He hires people that he knows will make his wife uncomfortable, but acts like it is no big deal. Prime example - "Oh, here is this designer for the house. Yes, I know that she wants me. Yes, I know that she is hitting on me. Yes, I know that it makes you upset. Fire her? God no, we reserve that for people who are doing what you tell them to do."

42. He is the king of double standards. "You didn't call in exactly 20 minutes like you promised? I am furious, and we will have a giant fight.". "I got in a helicopter crash and didn't contact anyone for a day? Well, I didn't really think about it." SERIOUSLY???

43. He constantly compliments her looks, but rarely (if ever) her brain. Nice to know she'll still be loved if/when she loses her youth and beauty.

44. He has a violent and unpredictable temper. How does this not bother her?

45. He is apparently really stupid when it comes to gun ownership, and gun laws. Yet more law-breaking - he keeps a gun that does not belong to him and that is not registered in his name. He keeps it in his desk drawer - not only stupid, but usually illegal (in most places, guns have to be kept in a locked cabinet). He keeps a loaded gun despite not knowing how to use it. He could easily research any of this, or talk to any of his highly trained security men about it, but apparently this is a blind spot for him. It's only a deadly weapon, after all.

46. He has no friends. Career-minded or not, this is always a big red flag.

47. He makes his wife/gf the absolute center of his universe. Probably because he has no friends, which is a lot of pressure to put on one person. Being everything to a person is never a comfortable place to be.

48. He expects that he will be the center of his wife/gfs universe in return. Hence the annoyance at her job, social life, etc. That is a nice, healthy relationship.

49. He keeps secrets, hides his past, is evasive, cold and withholds as much information as he can. Another stellar trait from this shining example of manhood.

50. Finally, he is one of the most blatantly manipulative characters ever. He isn't even really subtle about it, but basically uses classical conditioning on his girlfriend. Do what I want, and I will be open, kind, caring and give you unlimited orgasms. Don't do what I want, and I'll be sullen, angry, moody, insulting, and withhold affection. Sit girl! Staaay!

Good dog!! I mean....wife.

The Anti-Feminist Feminist: Get Back in the Kitchen!

Feminist Question of the day:
 
"Why are you so keen on women learning to cook & bake? Are you really so backwards, that you think that women should be stuck in 50's style gender roles? I have a big important job, so I don't have time for stuff like that. I'll either pay someone to do it for me, or get my husband to. So there!"

 

Sigh. I love how some women seem to be under the impression that it is really feminist and riot-grrrrrly to avoid knowing how to do things. I hate to break it to you, but if you aren't capable of basic life skills all on your own, that doesn't make you independent and sassy....it makes you HELPLESS. And we aren't talking about a skill that is interesting, but fairly unnecessary - I'm not suggesting that you learn how to crochet, or to churn your own butter! Food keeps us alive, ladies; it's a pretty basic skill to have.

Yet so many girls aren't bothering to learn how to cook or bake, and seem to be awfully proud of the fact that they are utterly crap at something that is vital to human life. Guess your PHD wasn't in common sense, eh?

Here's the thing - if you are relying on someone else to provide you with food, even by paying for it with your own hard-earned money, you are still relying on someone else. And you are assuming that you will always have the money to pay for it! You may have a great job NOW, but take a quick gander back at recent history, and you are going to find these things called "crashes" and "the depression". Life can change awfully quickly, and if you want to stay on top, you should be prepared to pull on your big-girl panties and take care of yourself.

The girls (I don't really think that these people have earned the title "woman" yet) who expect that they will just find a man who will stay at home and cook for them are even worse. First off, you are basing a decision to avoid learning a life skill on the assumption that you will "get a man". Gee, how very progressive that thinking is! It sure is nice to be living in these modern times where women don't plan their life around the idea of getting married! Oh wait...

And even if you do manage to find a man, fall in love, and he just happens to be a phenomenal cook and wants to do all the cooking for you, you are still making some pretty ridiculous assumptions. First off, you are flying in the face of every study on life expectancy, ever, and assuming that your personal chef/husband will outlive you. Better take up smoking and scotch drinking girls! Otherwise you may find yourself in your 60s and 70s living on microwave dinners. You are also assuming that hubby is going to STAY married to you for the rest of your life - again, statistics don't have your back on that one.

I'm also not sure that you are increasing the chances of a long and happy marriage if you are incapable of boiling an egg. To my mind, one of the great things about having a partner is that you are able to take care of each other, and treat each other with kindness and love (I know, I know, setting the women's movement back again here by treating men the way I would like to be treated). I wouldn't want to be married to someone who couldn't make me so much as a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich when I'm down with the flu, or who never baked me a birthday cupcake or brought me breakfast in bed "just because". If you decide you want children, cooking and baking together is just plain ol' fun! Do you really want to miss out on making green eggs and ham, or helping your kid make cookies for father's day? More importantly, do you want to raise kids to be as helpless as yourself?

Knowing how to cook helps you in the wider world as well. It's not just good manners to offer to help your hosts out in the kitchen, it helps you build friendships. It's not a secret - people like people who are helpful and nice, not people who sit around being waited on hand and foot. It's respectful to your parents to be able to take on some of the responsibility of cooking at big family gatherings, and it's certainly not very feminist to expect your mom to cook an entire thanksgiving dinner on her own while the family watches tv. What if you don't have family, or don't care about making friends? Well, then I feel pretty sorry for you, but I know that isn't the point. What if you only care about work? In that case, guess how much better it is for your career if you are the person that brings in home-made cupcakes on your colleagues birthday - it certainly won't get you shuffled to the back of the line come promotion time. In fact, that's not only going to help your relationships with your colleagues (always important if you want to be successful), but it brings you into the spotlight. It shows that you are capable, thoughtful, and clearly have good time management skills, if you are able to handle your workload and still find time to be baking from scratch! Sure, you could just buy them, but since when is going the extra mile a bad thing? Being able to make a healthy lunch for yourself means less time out of the office, waiting in line at sandwich shops. And that means more time to work, and an appearance of a harder worker - both clearly terrible ways to advance your career.

Finally, cooking isn't just going to help you in your relationships, in your work, in your family and in your friendships.....cooking, and food, is about health. Knowing how to make nutritious food, pulling together fresh, healthy meals - it's not about going all Martha Stewart (although let's face it, that would be pretty cool), it's about keeping your body healthy and strong. A diet of ready meals and take out may be easier, but it's not going to help you stay fit. Decided to run a marathon for charity? Don't want to be looking around for the fabled "big strong man" when you have to lift heavy things? Got a big client or a heavy workload that means extra stress and working overtime? Eating healthily gives you the ability to do those things.

So if you want to be a helpless, weak woman, then sure, you don't need to know how to cook. How very feminist of you.

But if you want to be strong, successful, balanced in your relationships, respected by your friends and family, and have even a tiny chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse - pick up a spoon and strap on your superwoman apron!! Who knows, you might even (gasp!) enjoy it! Don't worry, it'll be our secret...

Dirty Disney #1, Snow White

Grumpy: "Women! Full o'wicked wiles!"
Bashful: "What are wicked wiles?"
Grumpy: "I don't know...but I'm against them!!"

 

Now that I am intending to post something on a regular basis, I have all kinds of ideas for stuff I'd like to write about. Reviews of books (writing something for 50 Shades of Godawful Writing right now!), your questions answered, all sorts of stuff that will (hopefully!) make interesting reading.

So tonight, I want to start a new series of posts on princesses!! For some reason, I have always had a bit of an obsession with Disney princesses, and what is a blog if not a place to air your obsessions under the delusion that people care? Shallow, I know, but hey! I'm a whore, remember? Who needs depth, when you have dildos....

A warning, though, to anyone assuming that I intend to trot out the same boring old line about how Disney princesses are terrible role models & isn't it cynical and funny....sleeping with seven men, talking to strangers in the woods, bursting into song, etc etc. It may be very ironic and droll, but it's just not me. I'm essentially sincere in my adoration for the Princesses - there is no campy irony in my Ariel tattoo, I just really love the story.

On top of that, I tend to think that the "slutty princess" videos/memes usually represent a very stupid, overly-literal interpretation of the movies. The princesses may have been a little man-crazy, but there's nothing wrong with that! And on top of that, they are some of the most kick-ass portrayals of women out there, especially for their respective times.....In a world where women are constantly trying to be "superwoman", these girls did it without blinking, and usually while battling some ridiculously powerful evil. Geez, what terrible role models!

To start, let's take that very first princess: Snow White.

Funnily enough, I never actually liked Snow White as a kid - not for any deep or meaningful reason, but because she had short hair! (There I go, being all shallow again...) She is the only princess that I never thought was very pretty...and given that the point of her story is her incredible beauty, that was a problem.

But disappointing hair aside, Snow was a wonderful role model for women during the depression, and a lot of that carries through to today. In a time where everyone was feeling hardship and dealing with poverty (much like now), Snow was forced to dress in rags and work as a servant....but, like pretty much every princess, she doesn't bitch, whine, or complain about it. Snow just gets shit done.

When she is attacked and told to run away or she will be killed, she recovers incredibly quickly. Have a little cry, then dust yourself off, and get moving. In fact, throughout the film, she basically sees what needs to be done, and does it. She's also surprisingly upbeat about her lost love - she only mentions him once, after prodding, and even then, it's with a sort of wistful happiness - she spends the rest of her time singing, dancing, and getting on with things instead of moping about.

If Snow was a typical teenager of 2012, you can bet your ass she wouldn't be nearly as impressive.

First off, she'd rant and rave about suing the queen, but never actually go to a lawyer, because orphans on the run don't really have a lot of money. But you can bet your ass that she would talk about it a lot!!
She'd feel entitled to shelter with the dwarves for nothing, because after all, she's a famous princess! They should be honored to have her...don't they know who she IS? She'll sign an autograph, maybe, but that's IT.
Even if the dwarves asked her to keep house in return for staying, she probably wouldn't know how. Cooking from scratch? Cleaning? Sewing and mending? HA! It'd be take out pizza and running a swiffer wetjet over the floor once or twice.
If she has a bit of a feminist bent, she'd be greatly offended by the suggestion that she should clean while they went to do physical work - she is just as good as a man! She deserves a job! She will go work in the mines too! Never mind that they don't need anyone there, but do need someone in the house. Never mind that it is a skilled occupation and she doesn't have the knowledge. Never mind that it is dangerous, and she may well be putting other people at risk.
And no matter what, she would be spending the time feeling sorry for herself, wondering why this had to happen to HER. Facebook would be full of cryptic statuses aimed at garnering sympathy, and she would use twitter to bitch about being bored, so far from the city and the castle.
She'd also be pining miserably about her prince, gorging on red wine and chunky monkey ice cream, and generally wandering about with a face like a slapped arse. 
She'd probably end up kicked out by the dwarves, left by the prince (who wants to be with a miserable bitch?) and killed by the queen....and it would serve the little brat right!

Moral of the story?

If you want to impress a man, it's not the cooking and cleaning that matters. It's managing to be capable and strong. These days just knowing how to cook and clean would make you pretty helpless - capable means that you can handle moving house, paying your bills, holding your liquor and changing a tire. Being someone easy to fall in love with means being someone who is strong, who stays positive even when your life seems to have gone tits up. Oh yes, and men like good food.