You're thinking about schoolgirls right now, aren't you? Rulers, pigtails....willingness to do anything to get a passing grade...Sir.
I'll just...give you a couple minutes to yourself, shall I?
Ahem.
Now, lets move your mind to a slightly different part of the gutter, because I have absolutely nothing bad to say about "Please Professor" roleplay. For the record, it is one of my absolute favorites, and I think I was first playing schoolgirl when I was still an actual schoolgirl! Although I managed to keep my hands off the actual teachers, I swear.
Instead, I named this one "The Educator" because I couldn't bear to call something bad after Yoda, and "The Master" is a whole other thing. Starting to understand what I'm talking about? If you've ever encountered one, you've probably figured it out.
The Educator is the kind of overly-confident asshole who thinks that he (or she!) has figured it all out. The secret to sex, the universe and everything. (Which should really just be 69, shouldn't it?) And lucky you, he's going to bestow these secrets of perfect sex on you. You should be honored, to be chosen as apprentice to such a master of the bedroom arts. You should be thrilled - anything that he likes, that you don't - well, he's going to do it to you the right way! You will love it! You just haven't had HIM do it yet.
Excuse me whilst I swoon with anticipation of being in the hands of the Michelangelo of fucking.
Or not.
There is something just so horrifyingly arrogant about the Educator. Of course you don't know your own likes and dislikes. Clearly, there is one formula for perfect sex, one ideal way to do absolutely everything, and this formula works for everyone in the whole world, exactly the same way. Given that most people not only want something different than another person might, it's just a tad unreasonable. Christ, I want different things depending on my mood. Or what we did last time. Or what time of day it is. Or how much I've had to drink. Or maybe even because of a dream I had last night. It doesn't exactly work if you are just going to do the same thing that the last woman loved.
On top of the arrogance, and the resultant bad, awkward, formulaic sex involving zero give and take - the Educator is one of those few people who can actually do serious damage to a person's sexual happiness. If you are already pretty darn sure about what you want, coming up against someone who is determined to show you the "right" way to do it is just annoying. But if you are unsure, insecure, impressionable.....then this will seriously mess with your head.
That is why I hate Educators so, very, very, much. Who, exactly, do you think you are to be able to tell someone that they are wrong for not being into something? Nice way to show your partner that you think they are a little bit broken. God forbid it's your fault that they didn't enjoy it. Nope, if Mr Educator can't bring a girl to orgasm, it must be because she is broken. After all, he used to have to peel his ex off the ceiling afterwards. She couldn't even see straight. What a lovely way to smash a girl's confidence, put her down AND squeeze in a direct comparison to the ex, all in one go. Gold star for assholery.
What about those times where you have a partner who IS more experienced? Or who just wants to show you something new? What about those, I hear you cry?
Well, luckily I have a simple little test that will allow you to quickly differentiate between the person who wants to do some exploration, and the one who is just showing you the route he already knows is best. Just mentally add two little words after their suggestion, and see how it sounds. If their tone, phrasing, and general attitude seems to flow naturally with these words, run away (or prostrate yourself in front of their supposed genius, if you feel like it). Whereas if it just sounds silly, or totally out of place, you're good.
And what are these magic, revealing words?
"Young Padawan"
Friday 10 May 2013
Thursday 9 May 2013
Real-Life Thursday: Less Naked, More Nerd
Sometimes I have customers ask me if I am "really" a nerd....kind of like the gamer-girl post I wrote a while ago, they seem to be under the impression that I am either faking it in order to cash in on a niche market of nerd-types, or that I am maybe jumping on the bandwagon and acting like a nerd to be cute.
Ignoring, for just a second, the irony of someone with the screenname 17"Cock4U questioning the legitimacy of the moniker I choose, I'd like to lay this to rest.
Yes, I am an actual, real, living, breathing nerd type. Always have been.
I am, however, a fairly specific nerd-type. Nothing is more frustrating than having someone randomly quote a movie/reference a comic book/talk about a game....and then crow with triumph when I don't get it. See? You don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of everything that could ever be considered even a little geeky, ever? Well then, you are clearly not a nerd. Liar.
My nerdiness is mostly clustered around specific fandoms....Star Trek, Star Wars, LOTR, Buffy, HP....there are a few more, but those are the biggies. I have a working knowledge of a helluva lot more, but these are the things that make me go all fangirl - that I have watched/read/seen every possible version of, episode of, permutation of. These are the ones that I buy accessories from, collectibles of, and generally just funnel a huge amount of money into for no apparent reason.
Then there are the cartoons, the comic books, the games that I no longer let myself play because I get just a tiny bit addicted.
In fact, I don't think that a day often passes where there is not something just a little bit nerd-girl going on in my life. As I write this, I am watching (re-watching? Absorbing?) Angel. It's queued up on my Netflix along with Dr Who, Sherlock, Buffy...and a list of other movies, documentaries and shows that I will watch over and over, even when I can quote entire episodes (Once More With Feeling - I think I could re-create from memory).
When I was a stripper, I used to keep the most appropriate of the Ferengi Rules Of Acquisition in my dance bag. My favorite remains 189. Let others keep their reputation...you keep their latinum.
It's gotten to the point that it is actually a joke with friends of mine who aren't quite as dorky as I am. I can't remember the last present I got that didn't refer to one of my crazes - and I wouldn't have it any other way. Otherwise, I wouldn't have a personalized Hogwarts acceptance letter in a tiny gold envelope necklace - and that would be tragic.
Of course, if I really was just faking the whole thing to better empty the wallets of horny engineers, I would hardly blog about it, would I? Just to keep you thinking....
Ignoring, for just a second, the irony of someone with the screenname 17"Cock4U questioning the legitimacy of the moniker I choose, I'd like to lay this to rest.
Yes, I am an actual, real, living, breathing nerd type. Always have been.
I am, however, a fairly specific nerd-type. Nothing is more frustrating than having someone randomly quote a movie/reference a comic book/talk about a game....and then crow with triumph when I don't get it. See? You don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of everything that could ever be considered even a little geeky, ever? Well then, you are clearly not a nerd. Liar.
My nerdiness is mostly clustered around specific fandoms....Star Trek, Star Wars, LOTR, Buffy, HP....there are a few more, but those are the biggies. I have a working knowledge of a helluva lot more, but these are the things that make me go all fangirl - that I have watched/read/seen every possible version of, episode of, permutation of. These are the ones that I buy accessories from, collectibles of, and generally just funnel a huge amount of money into for no apparent reason.
Then there are the cartoons, the comic books, the games that I no longer let myself play because I get just a tiny bit addicted.
In fact, I don't think that a day often passes where there is not something just a little bit nerd-girl going on in my life. As I write this, I am watching (re-watching? Absorbing?) Angel. It's queued up on my Netflix along with Dr Who, Sherlock, Buffy...and a list of other movies, documentaries and shows that I will watch over and over, even when I can quote entire episodes (Once More With Feeling - I think I could re-create from memory).
When I was a stripper, I used to keep the most appropriate of the Ferengi Rules Of Acquisition in my dance bag. My favorite remains 189. Let others keep their reputation...you keep their latinum.
It's gotten to the point that it is actually a joke with friends of mine who aren't quite as dorky as I am. I can't remember the last present I got that didn't refer to one of my crazes - and I wouldn't have it any other way. Otherwise, I wouldn't have a personalized Hogwarts acceptance letter in a tiny gold envelope necklace - and that would be tragic.
Of course, if I really was just faking the whole thing to better empty the wallets of horny engineers, I would hardly blog about it, would I? Just to keep you thinking....
Wednesday 8 May 2013
Wednesday Reaction: Shame-based Sex Ed
Today I stumbled across this article "The Damaging Effects of Shame Based Sex-Education".
It's definitely a thought-provoking read, although I think that the title is a little misleading, as it doesn't really talk about sex-education. At least, not in the sense I think of - sex-ed as a class in schools. It is more about the way that sex is presented to younger women, and refers heavily to a Christian rhetoric.
It's also more specifically talking about the idolization of virginity, at least for women. Kristen Howerton talks about the need to discuss both abstinence and sex as valid and "ok", especially for teens.
So what is the ideal? Talking about teens and sex ed always requires a search for a balance - trying to teach young women (and men, but this article focuses on female virginity, so it makes sense that my response does too) to value themselves, and their sexuality, but at the same time, teaching them that enjoying sex does not make them damaged goods, or less of a person.
Which is worse? Creating a situation where young girls who lose their virginity feel dirty, damaged, unwanted.....or creating a situation where sex has so little value that teenagers are giving no thought to safety or self-respect? To me, answering that question comes from looking at the situations of those who do not get to make the choice themselves. Kristen brings up that "Survivors of rape need "permission to fight back," and that requires them "to know you are of value." and she is right. I am more concerned about the mental state of the young women who are assaulted, and need to feel that that hasn't irrevocably damaged them, that they can recover and move forward.
After all, this is the root of slut-shaming. This is the foundation of the kind of thinking behind the phrase "asking for it", or the idea that somehow "giving it away" devalues a woman. "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". We can't change the greater problem of slut shaming, until we stop putting such an emphasis on virginity.
And that IS something that needs to be included in sex-education. Then again, pretty much all sex education needs to be overhauled, in my opinion - taking out the concept of "purity" is just one tiny part of it. But as they say, every little helps.
It's definitely a thought-provoking read, although I think that the title is a little misleading, as it doesn't really talk about sex-education. At least, not in the sense I think of - sex-ed as a class in schools. It is more about the way that sex is presented to younger women, and refers heavily to a Christian rhetoric.
It's also more specifically talking about the idolization of virginity, at least for women. Kristen Howerton talks about the need to discuss both abstinence and sex as valid and "ok", especially for teens.
So what is the ideal? Talking about teens and sex ed always requires a search for a balance - trying to teach young women (and men, but this article focuses on female virginity, so it makes sense that my response does too) to value themselves, and their sexuality, but at the same time, teaching them that enjoying sex does not make them damaged goods, or less of a person.
Which is worse? Creating a situation where young girls who lose their virginity feel dirty, damaged, unwanted.....or creating a situation where sex has so little value that teenagers are giving no thought to safety or self-respect? To me, answering that question comes from looking at the situations of those who do not get to make the choice themselves. Kristen brings up that "Survivors of rape need "permission to fight back," and that requires them "to know you are of value." and she is right. I am more concerned about the mental state of the young women who are assaulted, and need to feel that that hasn't irrevocably damaged them, that they can recover and move forward.
After all, this is the root of slut-shaming. This is the foundation of the kind of thinking behind the phrase "asking for it", or the idea that somehow "giving it away" devalues a woman. "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". We can't change the greater problem of slut shaming, until we stop putting such an emphasis on virginity.
And that IS something that needs to be included in sex-education. Then again, pretty much all sex education needs to be overhauled, in my opinion - taking out the concept of "purity" is just one tiny part of it. But as they say, every little helps.
Tuesday 7 May 2013
Naked Nerd Reviews: Strip City
It's always a good idea to start at the beginning....which is why today, I picked the book that really started me off reading what I refer to as "strip-lit", memoirs, studies, and explorations of the sex industry. A category that will, hopefully, one day include a book of my own.
Strip City chronicles Lily Burana as she does a pre-wedding strip trip across the US, hitting all of the cities, clubs, and hotspots that she had dreamed about, heard about, wondered about....back when she was a full-time stripper in her early twenties.
This remains probably my favorite of the strip-lit genre (so far) because it combines two of the great loves of my life - stripping, and travel. The concept of setting out with nothing more than a bag of costumes and a list of clubs will always hold great appeal, although I wonder if I will ever be able to actually do it - stripping, unlike camming, has a definite age range, and I am no longer at the lower end of it. Or even, really, the middle. But if I never manage to set out on the open highway, then I can still simply re-read this book.
Lily moves back and forth between her present travels, and her memories of stripping in NYC in the late 80s. She also researches the history of the striptease - going to Exotic World Museum, speaking to past dancers, covering the history of some of the major clubs....basically, she covers all the bases, and it makes for fascinating reading.
The best part? That she manages to cover the highs and lows of getting naked for pocket change without presenting an unbalanced picture. When writing about the sex industry, the temptation seems to always be to either gloss over everything, and create a glamorous, fun ideal, or to assume that all is darkness and doubt. Sex workers (myself included) are fairly reticent to talk about the bad times, because for some reason, people love to use even the smallest of dissatisfaction to damn the entire industry. On the other hand, many people want to prevent young women from getting sucked in to the evils of sex work, and so only talk about the worst aspects - afraid that the slightest whiff of enjoyment would convert even the purest virgin. But Lily covers those nights that are thoroughly glamorous, exciting, and lucrative...but doesn't shy away from describing the times where she feels like she has been turned inside out and emotionally beaten six ways from sunday.
For once, I actually have nothing bad to say about it. I love this book.
Monday 6 May 2013
Monday Morning Rant: Excuses, excuses
Sometimes, bad things happen. Or annoying things. Or the kind of things that manage to derail your day, ruin your mood, just stop your plans from going smoothly.
This can be something as small as having someone cancel your plans, having your computer stop working, dropping your phone in the toilet (hands up, who hasn't?)...just getting up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe you just slept in, and now you are running late. Sometimes it's not even something really "bad" that happens, just something that isn't great.
No matter what it is, there are a few different ways to deal with it. Pretty much any way is acceptable, in my eyes, from taking out your frustrations on the nearest inanimate object, going for a run, eating all the junk food you can find, having a good vent...whatever. Whatever makes you feel better, gets the frustration out.
There is one reaction, however, that I cannot stand. The excuses. More importantly, the lowered expectations that excuses allow. That excuses create.
If you tell yourself that it's ok that you slept in because you were tired/had a late night/had some drinks/etc etc etc then you aren't going to fix it. You aren't going to change it. You are going to sleep in again, and again, because every morning, you will wake up and come up with a new excuse.
When I'm not losing weight, maybe it isn't that the diet hasn't kicked in, or that I'm on a plateau, or that I'm gaining muscle and it "weighs more than fat". Maybe it's because I need to work out more, and drink less wine.
Excuses may make you feel better, because they are just complicated ways to say "it's not my fault". But that only works in the short term, because by continually telling yourself that it's out of your hands, you never find a way to fix the problem. You never just grab a straw, suck it up, and change it.
Excuses become a habit - when one no longer works to explain a situation, you simply find another one. So at first, the dog is misbehaving because she is a puppy, and then when she is too old for that to fly, she is in adolescence. When you see other dogs the same age that are well-mannered, you blame it on breed, or temperament, or mix, or personality. All that happens in the end, is that you have a crazy dog, and a bushel of "but it isn't me". Where you could just cut all the crap, and admit that your dog is badly behaved because you aren't training it properly. Having admitted that, you can then start to train it properly. Shocking.
So stop it, people. Stop making excuses for yourself. Stop worrying about making yourself feel better right NOW, and starting worrying about actually fixing things so that you get to feel better long past the lifespan of the excuses you are creating.
It sounds harsh, but it's true. There is always an excuse. There is always something going wrong, or something that comes up. So just stop allowing that to get in the way, and take a little control of your life.
You might surprise yourself. If you stop making excuses for everyone and everything in your life, you may actually end up with a life where there is nothing shitty enough to need excusing.
This can be something as small as having someone cancel your plans, having your computer stop working, dropping your phone in the toilet (hands up, who hasn't?)...just getting up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe you just slept in, and now you are running late. Sometimes it's not even something really "bad" that happens, just something that isn't great.
No matter what it is, there are a few different ways to deal with it. Pretty much any way is acceptable, in my eyes, from taking out your frustrations on the nearest inanimate object, going for a run, eating all the junk food you can find, having a good vent...whatever. Whatever makes you feel better, gets the frustration out.
There is one reaction, however, that I cannot stand. The excuses. More importantly, the lowered expectations that excuses allow. That excuses create.
If you tell yourself that it's ok that you slept in because you were tired/had a late night/had some drinks/etc etc etc then you aren't going to fix it. You aren't going to change it. You are going to sleep in again, and again, because every morning, you will wake up and come up with a new excuse.
When I'm not losing weight, maybe it isn't that the diet hasn't kicked in, or that I'm on a plateau, or that I'm gaining muscle and it "weighs more than fat". Maybe it's because I need to work out more, and drink less wine.
Excuses may make you feel better, because they are just complicated ways to say "it's not my fault". But that only works in the short term, because by continually telling yourself that it's out of your hands, you never find a way to fix the problem. You never just grab a straw, suck it up, and change it.
Excuses become a habit - when one no longer works to explain a situation, you simply find another one. So at first, the dog is misbehaving because she is a puppy, and then when she is too old for that to fly, she is in adolescence. When you see other dogs the same age that are well-mannered, you blame it on breed, or temperament, or mix, or personality. All that happens in the end, is that you have a crazy dog, and a bushel of "but it isn't me". Where you could just cut all the crap, and admit that your dog is badly behaved because you aren't training it properly. Having admitted that, you can then start to train it properly. Shocking.
So stop it, people. Stop making excuses for yourself. Stop worrying about making yourself feel better right NOW, and starting worrying about actually fixing things so that you get to feel better long past the lifespan of the excuses you are creating.
It sounds harsh, but it's true. There is always an excuse. There is always something going wrong, or something that comes up. So just stop allowing that to get in the way, and take a little control of your life.
You might surprise yourself. If you stop making excuses for everyone and everything in your life, you may actually end up with a life where there is nothing shitty enough to need excusing.
Saturday 4 May 2013
Bad Sex Positions: Alarm Clocks Uneccesary
I am the first to admit that when I am writing about bad sex, a lot of what I complain about seems obvious to me. Relax, have fun with it....how hard is that, really?
The more I talk to people, the more I realize how common sense is still pretty uncommon, even when it comes to getting off. That something as simple as just enjoying yourself is somehow ridiculously over complicated, whether by insecurity, bad advice, or one too many copies of Cosmo.
But somehow, even in my wildest dreams, I never thought that this would be something that I would have to be writing. Deep breath, here goes.
You should be awake during sex.
A lot of what I write is opinion, musings, personal preference, up for debate. This one most definitely isn't. In fact, it bears repeating.
You should be awake during sex.
It isn't adorable to pass out while bumping uglies. It isn't like when a small pet falls asleep in your arms, when everybody gets to coo about how comfortable Fluffy must be with you. It doesn't represent a new level in your relationship, it doesn't suggest a deeper emotional connection.
All it suggests is either a sex life in serious need of some passion, or possibly the beginnings of a drinking problem. (For the record, I am more forgiving of alcoholism than boredom.)
I don't know when, exactly, people started to think that there was something cute about passing out while balls deep, but I think I'll blame Third Eye Blind.
"How do I get back there, to the place where I fell asleep inside you"
You don't want to. Moving on.
The more I talk to people, the more I realize how common sense is still pretty uncommon, even when it comes to getting off. That something as simple as just enjoying yourself is somehow ridiculously over complicated, whether by insecurity, bad advice, or one too many copies of Cosmo.
But somehow, even in my wildest dreams, I never thought that this would be something that I would have to be writing. Deep breath, here goes.
You should be awake during sex.
A lot of what I write is opinion, musings, personal preference, up for debate. This one most definitely isn't. In fact, it bears repeating.
You should be awake during sex.
It isn't adorable to pass out while bumping uglies. It isn't like when a small pet falls asleep in your arms, when everybody gets to coo about how comfortable Fluffy must be with you. It doesn't represent a new level in your relationship, it doesn't suggest a deeper emotional connection.
All it suggests is either a sex life in serious need of some passion, or possibly the beginnings of a drinking problem. (For the record, I am more forgiving of alcoholism than boredom.)
I don't know when, exactly, people started to think that there was something cute about passing out while balls deep, but I think I'll blame Third Eye Blind.
"How do I get back there, to the place where I fell asleep inside you"
You don't want to. Moving on.
Thursday 2 May 2013
Real Life Thursday: Porn Star Romance
In case anyone wasn't aware, I recently ended a fairly long relationship. Which accounts for my fairly long absence from the interwebs, as I was partaking in the grand tradition of break ups, and spending a couple of months flailing around, making bad decisions and a serious dent in the liquor stores of BC.
Believe it or not, far more good than bad came out of this. The breakup, not the poor decision making. It actually gives me a great opportunity to dispel a few myths about single sex workers.
Lets face it, the general response to the news of my singleness has led to a reaction of joy - suddenly, my available status means that I must be fair game, right? Because all sex workers are essentially gagging for it (non-brits may need to take a minute and look that phrase up, but I cannot honestly think of a better one), and now that there is nothing in my way, I shall be banging every available penis, right?
Sorry to disappoint, but no. I briefly debated it, but after a couple of ill-fated one night stands (note: do not lie about your wife. And even if you are actually available, do not message me every ten hours. It's just creepy. No, not even if you are messaging to tell me how casual you are.) I have decided that it simply isn't worth the drama.
That is not to say that I won't be getting any. Good lord, no. Just that I will actually, shock horror, be sleeping with people that I actually KNOW. That I have gotten to know over a period of months, or even years, and have established a certain level of sanity with.
It may wreak havok with the image of a camgirl as a wanton slutburger, but I may well just stick with the ones I know, rather than attempting to work my way through the lower mainland for the sake of it.
It's not just about avoiding messages from irate wives and annoying boys who become ridiculously over attached after one night. It's also about appreciating a little...appreciation. And even, dare I say it, a little romance.
That's right, romance. As much as I do love being slammed against a wall and fucked halfway through it, (see, I'm not completely destroying the porn star image) I also enjoy being brought coffee in the morning. Or driven home at night.
Or, in what was possibly the sweetest, most I'm-in-a-movie-right-now moment, having a flower picked for me while walking my dog.
Even those of us who fuck for a living need those moments that surprise us with a smile.
Believe it or not, far more good than bad came out of this. The breakup, not the poor decision making. It actually gives me a great opportunity to dispel a few myths about single sex workers.
Lets face it, the general response to the news of my singleness has led to a reaction of joy - suddenly, my available status means that I must be fair game, right? Because all sex workers are essentially gagging for it (non-brits may need to take a minute and look that phrase up, but I cannot honestly think of a better one), and now that there is nothing in my way, I shall be banging every available penis, right?
Sorry to disappoint, but no. I briefly debated it, but after a couple of ill-fated one night stands (note: do not lie about your wife. And even if you are actually available, do not message me every ten hours. It's just creepy. No, not even if you are messaging to tell me how casual you are.) I have decided that it simply isn't worth the drama.
That is not to say that I won't be getting any. Good lord, no. Just that I will actually, shock horror, be sleeping with people that I actually KNOW. That I have gotten to know over a period of months, or even years, and have established a certain level of sanity with.
It may wreak havok with the image of a camgirl as a wanton slutburger, but I may well just stick with the ones I know, rather than attempting to work my way through the lower mainland for the sake of it.
It's not just about avoiding messages from irate wives and annoying boys who become ridiculously over attached after one night. It's also about appreciating a little...appreciation. And even, dare I say it, a little romance.
That's right, romance. As much as I do love being slammed against a wall and fucked halfway through it, (see, I'm not completely destroying the porn star image) I also enjoy being brought coffee in the morning. Or driven home at night.
Or, in what was possibly the sweetest, most I'm-in-a-movie-right-now moment, having a flower picked for me while walking my dog.
Even those of us who fuck for a living need those moments that surprise us with a smile.
Wednesday 1 May 2013
Wednesday Reaction - Bad Ad!!
Following on from Monday's rant about a specific form of slut-shaming, lets talk about some shaming (and shame worthy) ads that I recently discovered....for Playtex and their new "Fresh and Sexy" wipes.
The ad above is one of a set - a new campaign for wipes that are designed for before and after "intimate encounters" - apparently filling the need for daisy-fresh junk, any time, anywhere.
On the one hand, this is almost the opposite of slut-shaming. It doesn't just suggest that spontaneous sex is ok, it actively tries to take advantage of it to sell something. I'm not totally sure that that is better, of course. Slut-opportunism isn't really more positive than slut-shaming, just has a little more of a capitalist flavor.
Sadly, logic doesn't follow on the heels of opportunity. The ads are all based on the idea that having clean, fresh genitals will somehow impact your chances of getting laid. Except, the only way to discover the cleanliness of someone's junk involves being pretty up close and personal with them. And once you get to the point where you get a gyno's-eye view, you are basically past the point of no return. Frankly, if the situation is bad enough that someone is going to strip you down and then actually run away from what lurks between your legs, it may be asking a bit much of a glorified baby wipe to solve the problem.
Unsurprisingly, these ads have already provoked one helluva reaction amongst the feminist and sex-positive masses (although it does need to be noted that the ads are equally split between being aimed at male and female customers). The general response has been one of disgust, mixed with a healthy dash of anger at the suggestion that the "natural" smell of a woman is inherently wrong/yucky/bad/etc.
All I really have to say about that, is that yes, the "natural" smell of a woman (or man, for that matter) is amazing. And sexy. And nothing to be covered up, wiped away, or generally ashamed of.
However.
For anyone not aware, I've spent a lot of time in close proximity to gentials in the line of duty - and only about 60% was in strip clubs, where all the pussy is preened to perfection. The other 40% was as a body piercer, and when it isn't trimmed and tucked and functioning as a money maker, a lot of people clearly need some kind of reminder that the shower head doesn't reach there all on it's own. There was one woman in particular who earned the nickname "Grilled Cheese Vag". I'll leave that one up to your imagination.
It reminds me of the kind of anger that inevitably results from advertising that is "fat-ist", that refers to women with "curves" as "real women". It's all about loving your body, being proud of your body....which is all well and good. Except that if you are 5ft tall and weigh 200lbs, maybe pride isn't the first thing you should be feeling. Maybe you should be feeling like a trip to the gym is in order.
No one needs to be frantically baby-wiping their junk until taking your panties off creates a swirly waft of Febreeze-like scent. At the same time, a little reminder of good hygiene, not a bad thing.
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