Category: Sex Education

Posted on

How to Talk to Your Partner About Having More Sex

This is what the discussion should look like.

By

So, you’re in a relationship, and you want more sex than you’re currently having.

You wouldn’t be alone. One 2015 study that tracked couple’s desire found four in five people in relationships dealt with differing levels of sexual desire within a single month. Additionally, low desire and desire discrepancy are the most common sexual issues that come up in couples therapy. In other words, this issue is not rare. Of course, that doesn’t make the question of “how to ask for more sex?” any easier to address.

Everyone deserves to feel sexually satisfied, and for those in relationships, we know sexual satisfaction is interlinked with overall relationship satisfaction. So if this is something that’s on your mind, know that it is worth bringing it up to your partner. There are also ways to approach this conversation—and the mutual efforts that need to come after it—with a sense of camaraderie, care, and curiosity.

Here are a few tips to keep in mind if you want to ask for more sex.

1. Open a dialogue

So, you want to have sex more frequently. The first step is to directly bring it up to your partner. Let them know you’d like to set aside some dedicated time to have an open conversation about your sex life as a couple and how you’re both feeling about it. During this talk, tell them that you’ve been feeling interested in having sex more often, and ask them what they think about that.

They may very well be game, or you might learn about some barriers your partner is dealing with that’s making it harder for them to tap into their desires. Listen attentively, and consider how you can help them climb some of those barriers.

2. Approach the situation as a team.

When faced with an issue such as differing levels of sexual desire, couples often fall into the trap of seeing it as “you vs. me”. I want sex. He doesn’t. But when you view each other as representatives of opposing sides, you turn the issue into a power struggle that one of you has to “win” and one of you has to “lose.”

Instead, think of yourselves as teammates facing a shared challenge. And importantly, don’t make the goal be having sex a certain number of times per month. The goal should simply be to mutually invest the time and effort into co-creating a sex life that feels good for both people. Turn this part of your life into something you’re working on together.

3. Consider what can be improved for your partner.

Even though you’re the one bringing up a need, it’s important to consider your partner’s needs simultaneously.

Remember, sex is something people do solely because it’s fun and feels good. If sex isn’t that fun or doesn’t feel that good for someone, then it’s no surprise they wouldn’t be that interested in it. So, instead of How do I get this person to have more sex with me consider reframing the question as  How do I help my partner enjoy sex more, so they’re as genuinely excited to have sex as I am?

Are there things that would make your shared sexual experiences more enjoyable for your partner? Are there things they want more or less of in bed? Are there things that they like that you haven’t done in a while? Ask your partner.

There may also be some negatives of having sex that are outweighing the positives, which need to be addressed. If you can’t fathom what the “negatives” of having sex are, that’s another good one to ask your partner about and see what they bring up. From body anxiety to physical pain to just the stress of losing out on some precious downtime, it’s important to understand what those downsides might be and how you can find ways to alleviate them together.

4. Learn about your partner’s experience of desire.

People may experience desire in different ways. Sometimes desire discrepancy isn’t about differing levels of desire (high vs. low) but rather different types of desire.

Some people have what’s known as spontaneous desire, wherein the desire to have sex can arise at any given time. Other people have what’s known as responsive desire, wherein the desire to have sex only arises after you’re already aroused or in a sexual situation.

In other words, a responsive person won’t ever really be randomly in the mood for sex; instead, there’s a certain set of contexts that, when in place, reliably put them in the mood. People who have the responsive model of desire are often under the impression that they just have a lower libido than others when in reality, they just experience desire in a specific way.

What set of circumstances, dynamics, and contexts help trigger your partner’s sexual desire or allow for your partner to more easily access their desire? What makes sex appealing to your partner in a given situation? What makes sex unappealing to your partner in a given situation?

5. Remove the pressure

It’s important to never pressure your partner into anything. They need to be happy to have sex with you, not coerced or guilted into doing so. If there’s ongoing tension or resentment whenever you try to initiate sex, that’s a sign that there needs to be another sit-down conversation about what’s going on. What’s setting your partner off, and what needs to change to help make them more comfortable?

For relationships between men and women, it can sometimes help to remove the pressure to always make sex have to lead to or involve intercourse. Have some sexual experiences that just involve some deep making out, heavy petting, or maybe some oral. Don’t worry about having an orgasm every time. Just focus on creating moments for intimacy, eroticism, and fun without the pressure of it having to lead to a specific act every time. This will help your partner feel like she can wade into the waters of a sexual experience without feeling pressured to “follow through” every time. And when you remove the pressure of orgasms or intercourse, you also open yourselves up to a whole array of new, interesting, and pleasurable sexual experiences.

6. Keep initiating

Remember that your needs and desires do matter, and you’re allowed to ask for what you want from your partner and from your relationship. Your partner is also allowed to say no. Allow both of yourselves to remove the guilt from these actions, and focus on finding how to arrive at a mutual yes more often.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

Banning classroom talks about gender identity, sexual orientation aren’t helpful to kids or adults

Roberto Abreu, assistant professor in the psychology department at the University of Florida, discusses Florida’s “Parental Rights in Education” bill and its banning discussions of sexual orientation or gender identity in classrooms with young children

Florida Rep. Michele Rayner delivers an impassioned speech vowing to challenge the controversial “Don’t Say Gay” bill passed by Florida’s Republican-led legislature during a rally March 12 on the front steps of City Hall in St. Petersburg, Fla.

By Lisa Deaderick

One of the sections of Florida’s “Parental Rights in Education” bill, passed by the state’s House and Senate, prohibits any discussion of sexual orientation or gender identity in primary grade classrooms. Supporters say the bill will allow parents more participation and control around the discussion of topics they deem “sensitive” or “inappropriate” for young children; opponents, who have dubbed the legislation the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, find this reasoning both illogical and hypocritical.

“This bill is clearly an anti-LGBTQ bill,” says Roberto Abreu, an assistant professor in the psychology department at the University of Florida whose research focuses on the intersection of LGBTQ people of color in their families, parenting and community. “What really gets me about all of this is that parents already make comments in very heteronormative or cisnormative ways that bring up sexuality and sexual orientation and gender” pointing to widely practiced gender reveal parties and casual remarks about children and their classroom crushes.

Abreu, who holds a doctorate in counseling psychology and looks at parent-child relationships of parents of color and their LGBTQ children, took some time to discuss this legislation, how to have these conversations with young children in ways that are appropriate for their age and level of development, and what adults can do to overcome the homophobia and transphobia these bans are rooted in. (This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

Q: Florida’s “Parental Rights in Education” bill prohibits classroom discussions about sexual orientation or gender identity for students in primary grades or in ways that aren’t considered developmentally or age-appropriate for those students. In your experience, what would be an appropriate age to begin having conversations with children about sexual orientation and gender identity?

A: As soon as children bring it up you can start talking about it. Of course, children will bring it up in developmentally appropriate ways and our response should be in developmentally appropriate ways, right? We have research to show that children start to understand their gender as early as 3 years old, so once they bring it up, those are conversation openings. We shouldn’t be waiting for ‘the big talk’ in adolescence. We should start bringing up those conversations in a developmentally appropriate way as early as possible because the interesting thing is that parents are already bringing these things up. For example, statements like, ‘What girl/boy do you think is cute in your classroom? He/she may have a crush on you.’ Comments about sexual orientation and gender identity are made around children all the time, we just do it in very heteronormative and cisnormative ways. Nothing gets to me more than gender reveal parties where people are revealing gender, biology, chromosomes and genitalia. That’s what we’re doing, is revealing genitalia, so clearly people don’t have a problem talking about this unless it’s in the context of trans and queer folks. Also, shouldn’t we trust teachers, who are trained educators and have experience with youth and development, to have these conversations? We trust them to teach everything else with our kids.

Q: How is that different from assessing a child’s developmental readiness for these kinds of conversations? What is typically used to determine whether a child is developmentally ready to have these kinds of conversations?

A: I don’t know that I see a difference. Thinking developmentally, we should be thinking this way when we introduce any concepts in a classroom, not just when it comes to LGBTQ issues. It’s important, for example, to talk to children in elementary school about the proper and appropriate names for their body parts. I don’t necessarily think that there’s a formula here. The other interesting part about this bill is that it’s almost couched in a way for people to say that they just want to make sure that they’re talking about these things in the right way, and that these aren’t appropriate topics for children this young; but they are appropriate topics because we’ve been talking about them already. In that context, we shouldn’t even be having conversations with children about liking another girl or boy their age because that should also be deemed inappropriate.

Q: What are some examples of what a developmentally or age-appropriate conversation about sexual orientation or gender identity would sound like? What would be covered in that kind of discussion?

A: I’ll use an example from my own personal life. My husband and I have a 7-year-old and he got home one day last year and said, ‘Most of my friends have a mom and a dad.’ How can I have that conversation? (Teachers should also be addressing this in ways that are developmentally appropriate for any child to see their family represented, and know that their teacher cares to have this conversation about their family structure that might be different and maybe isn’t the norm.) Most children won’t have two dads or two moms, but teachers and schools and parents should be having these conversations. With the language of this bill, these kinds of conversations can never happen because how do you explain to a child that they have two dads, without bringing up sexual orientation? Children have questions. You don’t have to talk about romantic relationships at that point, but how do you talk about two men raising a family for a child who has two dads, or two moms, without naming who they are? Books that are being read in classrooms can show a range of people and families. This is just another aspect of diversity, and LGBTQ students deserve to be seen, heard and cared for.

The first thing I do, is I affirm or dispel any myths the child might have heard. In this specific example, I affirm that ‘Yeah, you are correct. Most of your friends don’t have two dads. Your dads are gay, meaning that we are attracted, we are in love, we like to form relationships and families with two men. Your friends’ parents might be heterosexual, or maybe they’re bisexual, but they have a mom and a dad.’ You’re putting the context into words that the child is using themselves. I think it is appropriate to be honest, direct, frank, and to use the language and wording that the child is using.

Q: Why do you think people seem to be so uncomfortable with the idea of educating children about their bodies in ways that include informing them about topics related to sex?

A: I think we’re a very conservative society. I think we can also question why we don’t teach sex-positive education in high school. Why don’t we talk about woman-identified individuals making decisions for their own bodies? Power and control is one explanation. Another could be about adults’ own projection of erroneously thinking that children aren’t ready to have these conversations. They need to be age-appropriate, but I think adults’ own projections about their own discomfort about these topics is part of it. Honestly, though, at the root of it, I think it’s about transphobia and homophobia. These bills are not happening in a scattered manner, and a lot of attention to this bill has been around sexual orientation, but it’s also about gender and legislators trying to erase trans youth. It is about completely erasing groups of people who we do not see as worthy of personhood and humanity, from physical spaces, from history, from books, from everywhere. I think that is the real reason, that it’s the discomfort about trans bodies and queer bodies existing fully and free, and as their authentic selves in society.

Also, society is contradictory. Sex is everywhere: on TV, in the movies, in advertising; but let’s not talk about it with our kids? There is a real dichotomy there. We are OK with lots of displays of sexuality, but not this? Kids need information about sex, and they need it from educators and parents. The problem is most parents are not equipped to talk about it, or simply do not know how. Also, for some kids, school may be the only place where they are accepted.

Q: What are the best ways to think about and approach equipping children with this kind of information?

A: Everyone might have their own reasons, but I think people should get help, and I don’t mean that in a condescending way. As an adult, you should do your own work. If you feel discomfort about talking about these topics — although there is a wealth of literature and evidence and Google — I understand. I understand that people might be uncomfortable, and I’m not mad at anyone’s discomfort, but don’t project that onto other people or pass that on to children or use children as pawns in this. Do your own work, do your own therapy, and equip yourselves with materials and resources, and learn about these topics. I think working on yourself is important, and a great place to start. Here are some examples where you can find age-appropriate LGBTQ books for kids.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

What will Consent 101 actually look like in schools?

‘There’s an understandable concern from parents, but I think they should feel confident that this education will be age appropriate and grow with the students.’

Experts believe that starting consent education early will allow our children more opportunities to apply the concept in their daily lives.

By Jaymie Hooper

A landmark decision by the Australian government will see sexual consent education mandated across schools nationally from next year, with children as young as four expected to participate in the program. But what will the lessons entail? And will they be ageappropriate?

What is consent education?

At its most basic level, consent education involves teaching young people that no means no in sexual relationships and situations.

The current Australian sex education curriculum focuses on teaching students how to stand up for themselves, navigate peer pressure and identify respectful relationships (offline and online) but it fails to provide a holistic overview of consent, and schools are not required to teach it.

Due to the work of sexual abuse activists, such as former private school student Chanel Contos, that will change.

On February 17, after consultation with Contos (whose petition for consent education reform garnered more than 44,000 signatures after an Instagram poll revealed hundreds of her peers had been sexually assaulted), state and federal ministers voted to add consent to the national curriculum – a ground-breaking win in the fight against sexual abuse. Students will partake in the syllabus from 2023, including those just starting school.

Why do we need consent education? Isn’t sex ed enough?

According to Katrina Marson, criminal lawyer and lead of prevention projects at Rape and Sexual Assault Research and Advocacy (RASARA), comprehensive relationships and sexuality education can act as a protective factor against assault, and reduce the likelihood of negative sexual experiences.

“When provided from a young age, it equips young people with the knowledge, skills and values they need to safeguard their own and others’ sexual wellbeing and safety,” she explains. Dr Kimberley O’Brien, co-founder of child psychology clinic The Quirky Kid, agrees that starting consent education early affords children more opportunities to apply the concept in life.

“Children who are educated, empowered and have the opportunity to practise [consent] skills have the best chance of understanding their own boundaries and enforcing those boundaries with others,” she explains.

“If we introduced consent education to high schoolers, it may feel like a foreign concept, but with early intervention, kids grow up knowing consent is important and boundaries are to be respected.”

What will students be taught? Is it suitable for young children?

“There’s an understandable concern from parents, but I think they should feel confident that this education will be age appropriate and grow with the students,” explains Saxon Mullins, director of advocacy at RASARA.

While the final curriculum is expected to be signed off by education ministers this April, Mullins assures parents that “it will be designed with input from relationship and sexuality education experts around the country”.

Consent education for primary school children will not include examples of sexually explicit scenarios, but focus on building the foundations of consent. “It’s taught in a way that makes sense to young people,” adds Marson.

“For example, through sharing toys, playing with friends and giving relatives hugs.” High school students will be given comprehensive sex education, strategies to identify instances of coercive control and how to communicate assertively and respectfully, as well as opportunities to practise how to seek, give or deny consent.

The curriculum reform is welcome news to Dannielle Miller, CEO of Enlighten Education, who stresses that consent education must be well-rounded. “We need to deconstruct power imbalances, gender stereotypes and discuss all forms of relationship abuse,” she explains. “We must not get so focused on sexual violence that we fail to address many other forms of violence young people experience – not just as witnesses to violence within their homes but in their own relationships.”

How do young Australians feel about consent education?

According to Miller, who runs in-school respectful relationship programs, teens are eagerly anticipating the curriculum. “We already talk to young people about consent and, let me tell you, teens are so ready to have this discussion,” she says.

“They also have expectations the talks must be nuanced, inclusive and authentic. They want more than just the basics.” Adds Mullins, a survivor of sexual assault who has lobbied for consent reforms since 2018 and feels education mandates are overdue, “Sexual violence has been swept under the rug for far too long.”

How to help boys be part of the solution

Worried that your son could feel targeted by the new curriculum? Psychologist Dr Kimberley O’Brien reveals how to talk to young men about consent “Consent education is no more important for young boys than it is for any other gender.

It’s something that we should all be aware of. By being open- minded, you can encourage young people to consider the information in a way that’s not biased. It helps them put that information into practice, rather than questioning whether it’s right or wrong, so try to model being curious about the material that’s coming your way.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

8 Rules My Parents Had That Made Me Comfortable With My Sexuality

By Jeana Jorgensen

I was fortunate to grow up in a fairly sex-positive household. But this doesn’t mean anything inappropriate happened, like, ever. Remember, sex-positive doesn’t mean sex-fiend, and sex-positivity doesn’t connote constantly being exposed (or exposing others) to sexual things.

I don’t know, in retrospect, that my parents would necessarily identify with the label of being sex-positive, but I’m running with it anyway.

Here’s why I think my upbringing was sex-positive and how my parents made me comfortable with my sexuality:

1. We established that bodies were normal and natural.

Nudity wasn’t shamed in our household, though once my sister and I grew out of being cute toddlers it became less of a clothing-optional thing.

2. Bodily functions were also normal and natural.

We learned early on about periods because we were curious about what was going on with our mom.

3. Reading wasn’t censored.

I found a “where babies come from” book when I was pretty young (I was an advanced reader from an early age) and my parents didn’t freak out. Instead, they made sure to talk to me about it.

4. We watched things together as a family.

We didn’t consume tons of movies, TV, or video games, but we did watch a lot of things together, even some R-rated things (mostly foreign films). I remember my mom saying, “I’d rather you see sex than violence in movies; sex at least is natural and creative, whereas violence is destructive.”

And given that the film Willow scared me a ton when I saw it in theaters, I was happy to follow that directive.

5. We didn’t belong to a religious organization that shamed sexuality or promoted intolerance.

My upbringing was mostly in a secular Jewish context, with more emphasis on family gatherings and food than dogma.

6. Other sexualities were accepted.

There were some non-straight people in our lives, but my parents didn’t act like we needed to be protected from them. Some of our relatives lived together in domestic units without being married. I once asked my mom what she’d do if I wanted to date women, and she replied that she’d love me all the same.

7. Our consent was respected.

Yes, we had to do things we didn’t want to, like chores, homework, piano practice, and not bringing books to the dinner table, but we were never forced to hug relatives or be in uncomfortable proximity to people we didn’t like or know.

Bodily autonomy is an important lesson for children to learn, as it establishes a precedent for them as adults. Sexual violence was never dismissed, normalized, or made light of. It wasn’t a joking matter. Rape culture is damn insidious, but it didn’t have a huge foothold in our home.

8. Gender roles weren’t emphasized as the determinants of our worth.

Sure, my mom did the bulk of the cooking, but she was good at it (dinner with Dad meant going out or reheating leftovers). I was equally encouraged to play sports, compete on the Academic Decathlon team and take belly dance classes.

I’m sure there are other ways in which my upbringing was sex-positive, but these are the ones that stand out. Every family is different, with their family folklore and customs both expressing and reinforcing their values.

There are lots of ways that sex-positivity can look in the context of a family raising kids; I’m not trying to promote my own experience as normative or ideal for anyone but me.

My sex-positive upbringing prepared me for life as an adult in many ways.

I didn’t grow up with a sense of shame around my body — having a period, masturbating, being a woman, eventually wanting to become sexually active with others.

I didn’t feel like sexual desire was dirty; I felt assured that my parents would love me no matter what my sexuality turned out to be (or my career or the rest of my life), and I carry that confidence and self-worth forward into all my relationships.

I feel comfortable expressing myself in different gender roles, though I gravitate toward conventional femininity in many ways (and I acknowledge that being cis-gender comes with bunches of privilege).

I had a working model for common-sense feminism early on; we weren’t necessarily debating gender performativity at the dinner table, but I saw my parents both conform to and rebel against gender norms in the various choices they made, while figuring out how best to nurture me and my sister.

Reading the above paragraphs, it doesn’t seem like these experiences should be unique or revolutionary. But in our sex-phobic culture, they are.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

Sex in Young Adult Books Is Age Appropriate

By

It’s been a common scene recently: at a school board meeting, a parent will read out a passage from a book shelved in a high school library and exclaim some version of, “There is sex in this book!” This, we are led to believe, is a slam dunk. High school libraries should not carry sex books. Teenagers should not read sex in books. Sex is automatically inappropriate content for teenagers. But is it really age inappropriate?

I’m reminded of a book challenge I read recently for It’s Perfectly Normal, a book about puberty aimed at ages 10 and up. In the book challenge document, the person filing the complaint had painstakingly taken pictures of every instance of nudity. The anatomical text, they explained, was fine, but the illustrations were unnecessary.

But what could be more age appropriate for a kid going through puberty than a book that discusses puberty? How can illustrations that teach children the names of their body parts be inappropriate? And how is a book supposed to give any useful information about puberty without mentioning the mere existence of sex or nudity?

55% of American teenagers have had sex by the time they’re 18, and 29% are sexually active. Whether or not adults want that to be true, sex is part of many teenagers’ lives. And whether or not they’re having sex, it’s absurdly naive to think that they’re only encountering the topic in school library books.

While there are no concrete stats available for American teens, a study of European teens across six countries found 59% had watched porn, and 24% watch porn at least once a week. The information teens would get about sex education from the books in their libraries would be much more safe and realistic than learning from porn.

Reading about sex can serve different purposes for teens. It may be educational: to learn about consent and safer sex practices. It can model a healthy relationship to sexuality, including establishing boundaries and getting clear consent.

For teens who aren’t having sex, or who are unsure about their sexuality, books can be a safe way to “dress rehearse” sex with no stakes. Reading about sex can allow them to think about how they might feel in that situation, and gauge whether it’s something they want to pursue. This is a much safer strategy than just jumping into a scenario they’re not sure they’re mentally or emotionally prepared for.

It can also just serve the same purpose sex does in adult fiction: because it’s realistic for those characters and suits the story. It doesn’t have to be educational. Many teenagers have sex, and there’s nothing wrong with being able to see that reality in the books they’re reading. YA books don’t just exist to mold teens into perfect citizens. They’re for entertainment, to provoke thought, and to play all the other myriad parts books do in our lives.

(Side note: high school libraries are not carrying pornography. None of those books exist solely for sexual interest, and it’s ridiculous to think that an isolated comics panel or paragraph in a book is where teens will be looking if that was their main objective. Having sexual content is not the same as being pornographic.)

Having sex as a teenager isn’t ethically wrong. It’s not a crime. For every person, they’re going to have different boundaries about when it’s safe and comfortable to do so, if they want to at all, and they shouldn’t feel pressure to have sex. But acting like the very topic is scandalous and shameful does not make those choices easier. Giving teenagers the information to make their own informed decisions makes for better outcomes.

Many of the people protesting sex education books or sex in YA will say that it’s a discussion that should be between a parent and their child — an old abstinence-only education talking point. The truth is, many (most?) teenagers do not feel comfortable talking to their parents about sex. And with the over-the-top displays of outrage we’ve seen in these board meetings from parents on the topic, how would they? As nice as it is to imagine that every student will be able to walk up to a trusted adult in their life and ask any questions on their mind about sex, it’s not realistic.

Besides, even if that was true for most students — even if, somehow, 90% of teens felt perfectly comfortable asking their parents for birth control tips — that shouldn’t be how we build our public school systems. We should be watching out for the students who don’t have a safe support network. What about the teens who have difficult relationships with their caregivers? Why should they be left with no resources to educate themselves? Modeling an education system around the idea that every student has an ideal home environment is worthless.

Lev Rosen, author of Jack of Hearts (And Other Parts), has seen his book frequently challenged even before the most recent wave of censorship. His book addresses questions about sex that real teens across the U.S. have asked. He explains:

Teenagers want to know these things. Giving them answers and telling them not to be ashamed of their desires and how to pursue them safely and consensually isn’t hurting them, it’s helping them take control of their bodies and wants.

In addition to the fact that sex is an uncomfortable topic for most teens to broach with their parents or guardians, questioning your sexual orientation or gender can be even more confusing and isolating. Books allow for that exploration without having to talk to your family about labels that you’re not even sure fit you. For students with homophobic or transphobic families, these books can be a lifeline to let them know that they’re not alone, and that they will be able to find a community.

For queer kids in particular, Rosen worries about the effect that the homophobia and transphobia amplified in these school board meetings will have on them:

Imagine being a closeted student and watching some mom of your peer — or yourself — cry about how she’d be horrified if her teenager came home with a book about a queer person. That means if you went home and said you were queer, you’d be hated, probably more than the book.

In addition to sex education books, puberty books, and sex in YA novels, these book banners also object to the mention of rape or abusive relationships. They argue that students should be protected from this content. But 10% of American teens report having experienced sexual violence — 15% for girls — and 8% have experienced physical dating violence.

What message are we sending to kids and teens who have experienced sexual assault, that their experiences are too shameful and inappropriate to even acknowledge? How can their own life experience be age inappropriate? And how can we protect teens from unhealthy romantic relationships when we won’t even acknowledge they exist?

It’s a sign of how pervasive abstinence culture is that saying a book in a high school library has sexual content is supposed to be inherently scandalous. Teens deserve to access to these books, both for practical purposes and because they should be able to read stories that are relevant and interesting to them, not just the sanitized 50-year-old classics the adults in their life want them to read.

Of course, the topic of sex in teen books is in some ways a smoke screen. Book banners know that saying they want to ban a book because it has queer content or because it has a Black main character is likely not going to be received well, so instead they insist they’re just outraged about the sexual content or profanity, and that’s it’s a coincidence all the books they object to are queer and/or by authors of color.

Look, talking about teenagers having sex or reading about sex or thinking about sex is uncomfortable. But don’t let that discomfort rob students of valuable resources. Being a teenager is hard enough. We don’t need to make it worse.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

Putting the Sexy in Safe Sex

Experts have long been calling for education programs to include the pleasures of sex. A new meta-analysis looks at the effects of doing so.

By Hannah Docter-Loeb

There’s a Crucial Component Missing From Most Sex Education Programs

“Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die,” goes a famous line from the 2004 film Mean Girls. The scene is a send-up of abstinence-only sex education, the dominant form of sex ed in the U.S. In it, North Shore High’s Coach Carr encourages a gym full of teenagers to refrain from sex altogether. “Don’t have sex in the missionary position, don’t have sex standing up. Just don’t do it, promise?” he says, before offering the class a plastic bin full of “rubbers.”

In a recent episode of Netflix’s Sex Education, the vibe is quite different. “You shouldn’t be shamed for having sexual desires,” says Maeve Wiley, a character who co-runs a sex therapy clinic at her high school to help peers with their sexual frustrations and problems. “You make sex sound terrifying, but it doesn’t have to be,” she says to a school official trying to preach abstinence-based education. “It can be fun and beautiful and teach you things about yourself and your body.”

Sex Education has been applauded for its sex-positive attitude, especially because programs that teach safe sex, whether to tweens or to adults, still often take a more Coach Carr approach. It’s not always easy to get people on board with the idea that sex ed should teach that sex is fun. In Rhode Island, state Rep. Rebecca Kislak recently introduced legislation that would require sex education to “affirmatively recognize pleasure based sexual relations.” The proposal was met with criticism earlier this month from lawmakers, teachers, and parents. One parent called it “disgusting.” It would certainly represent a shift: “When it comes to sex, it’s been an almost exclusive focus on the dangers and the harms that can happen,” says Anne Philpott, director of the Pleasure Project, an international education and advocacy organization that “puts sexy into safer sex,” as she puts it, by promoting pleasure-based education.

Putting the sexy into safer sex isn’t just fun. Playing up the positives of sex, à la the characters on Sex Education, can actually make people more likely to take precautions against sexually transmitted infections. Philpott has data to prove it, presented in a study titled “Incorporating Sexual Pleasure in Educational Sexual Health Programs Can Improve Safe Sex Behaviors,” published Friday in the journal PLOS One. The study is a collaboration between Philpott and the Pleasure Project team, in conjunction with researchers at Oxford, the Case for Her, and the World Health Organization’s Department of Sexual and Reproductive Health and Research.

Philpott and her colleagues analyzed past studies that looked at pleasure-inclusive sexual health interventions around the world from 2005 to 2020. Pleasure-based sex education can take a number of forms, but at its core is devoted to normalizing sexual activity and teaching individuals that sex is supposed to (and should) be an enjoyable experience. “Programs that deal with pleasure are going to be more comprehensive and provide, in addition to conversations about pleasure, skills around communication, negotiation, and refusal,” Leslie Kantor, professor and chair of Rutgers’ Department of Urban-Global Public Health, explains.

Philpott’s team cast a wide net at first, screening thousands of experimental research studies on sexual and reproductive outcomes of sex intervention programs. “We then had to trawl through all of that and narrow it down to all the abstracts that were experimental trials and then look for any of those that were pleasure-inclusive,” as defined by the World Association for Sexual Health in its 2019 declaration. There weren’t many. Just 33 unique interventions fit the pleasure criteria and measured the impact on sexual health outcomes.

Out of the 33 interventions, the research team narrowed its focus to eight studies that reported condom use as an outcome. These studies tested the effectiveness of many different sexual interventions, from sex education in Brazil’s public schools to community-based HIV prevention workshops in Atlanta. After analyzing the data from all eight studies, the team found that pleasure-based programs had an overall moderate, positive, and significant effect on condom use—that is, the sex-haver was more likely to use one—in comparison to interventions that did not also teach about the role of pleasure in sex.

“This study helps support the idea that a focus on pleasure is correlated to sex that’s less risky,” says Rosara Torrisi, founding director of the Long Island Institute of Sex Therapy, who was not involved in the work. “Correlation doesn’t mean causation. But it’s a great place to start and keep exploring.”

The meta-analysis backs up what experts have long been arguing about pleasure-based education methods: that they can provide students with a feeling of autonomy around sex. According to CUNY Graduate Center’s Michelle Fine, who was one of the first to recognize the missing discourse way back in 1988, centering pleasure is “the portal to entitlement,” as it allows individuals to have control over their sexual decisions and sexual experiences. “It’s a way to envision how can I engage this sphere of social life in a way where I have a voice, I have opinions, I have choice, I can control, I can say yes, I can say no, I can say who,” she says. “If you don’t engage desire, all you’re left with is fear or victimization, and those are very vulnerable positions.”

When people feel comfortable discussing their wants, they are more likely to broach the topic of safety measures. Teaching people to articulate “what they’re interested in and whether or not they liked what’s happened previously, that’s pleasure-based and skill-based,” Torrisi says. It can open the door for people to have conversations with their partners “around how to actually have safer sex.”

Fine, who was also not involved in the study, pointed to the study’s sample diversity as an indication that pleasure is a broadly useful component of sex ed. Participants in the programs the researchers analyzed varied in age, nationality, and structural vulnerabilities they had experienced, she noted. “This heterogeneity adds to the robust findings that an incorporation of pleasure/design into sex education projects has positive effects on learning, attitude, and behaviors.”

>And Philpott hopes that her work will lead to more funding for pleasure-based education. “Not only does this mean we have more real conversations about sexual health and sex education, but it actually makes those interventions more effective and more cost-effective,” she explains. She hopes that an increased focus on pleasure-based interventions—the pleasure wave, as she calls it—will only get stronger. “For a long time we’ve been advocating for the why we need to do this, and now with the evidence, we need to move to the how, and get people to the next stage.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

A Beginner’s Guide to Kinky Sex

If you’re turned on but intimidated by the complex lingo, etiquette, and array of fetishes out there, let us gently domme you through the basics.

by Reina Sultan

A lot of time can pass between the moment people discover they’re turned on by kink and when they actually act on that. I should know: In high school, I avidly read smutty BDSM fanfics on Tumblr, and it emboldened me to ask the very first guy I had sex with to choke me in bed. He said no, fearing he might “crush my larynx.” Bummer.

For six years after that “no,” I tried to forget I was into kink for a few reasons: I didn’t know how to find people who would choke me, plus I felt some basic shyness about getting into a scene with intimidatingly complex lingo, equipment, and social codes—especially when that scene involved scary-looking floggers and chains.

It took the boredom and voracious horniness of Pandemic Winter 2020 for me to live out my submissive fantasies. I started talking to a guy on Instagram I had mutuals with, but had never met. He sent me spanking videos, and after some back and forth, he invited me over to do a kink scene. I wondered whether this spelled murder, especially because I’d be going to his literal basement but, touch-starved, I said yes. (And then changed my mind and said no. And then said yes again.

I hadn’t even asked around about him, so I was very lucky he was a chill, respectful person and a hot partner. That first time, we explored sensation and impact play. As we kept seeing each other, he taught me more about kink, like how to figure out the specifics of what I was into and safely practice BDSM. But there was still so much to learn.

For newcomers, it can be tough to figure out the rules and etiquette of kink, especially if you’ve mostly encountered it in porn and the occasional Instagram infographic. But through communication, practice, research, and building a kink community, I started learning the ropes (kind of—I only bottom during rope scenes), and the more I learned, the more I liked what I was doing. 

Kinky sex simply requires more thought and planning than vanilla sex. But don’t worry—now I’m here to help you get freaky, too. Learning about the basic tenets of kink will help you have the best possible time when you (finally!) decide to try it out for yourself. OK? Say, “Yes, Mistress.” Just kidding—I already told you I’m a sub.

What is kink?

“Kink” covers subcultural sexual practices like BDSM, fetish play, and role play, as well as the lifestyles and social groups related to them. That’s pretty broad, so here’s a basic—and not at all comprehensive, don’t @ me—list of tastes, terms, and phenomena that are fairly common in the wild and vast world of kink.

  • BDSM. This acronym, which you almost certainly have heard before, refers to “bondage and discipline, domination and submission, sadism and masochism.” A dominant (which, like “domination,” is sometimes capitalized depending on people’s preferences), is a person who exerts control, like by ordering around their partner. A submissive is a person at the other end of that power exchange who willingly gives up their control. A sadist gets pleasure from inflicting pain, and a masochist likes receiving pain. To read more about BDSM, check out this blog post by one of my faves in the kink scene, Venus Cuffs, whom we’ll hear more from in a bit.
  • A top is a person—not necessarily a dominant—performing an activity: They’re usually the one tying the ropes and spanking the butts. A bottom is a person—not necessarily a submissive—having an activity done to them: being tied up, getting spanked. Switch/vers refers to someone who both tops and bottoms or can be both dominant and submissive. These terms are used in many contexts outside of BDSM too, particularly if you’re queer—read more here!
  • A scene refers to a kinky experience or session, which you can have more than one of during a given encounter or party. If you got spanked for 20 minutes or tied up and teased with a sex toy, those things would be considered scenes.

Let’s talk about some common fetishes. This is a fun A–Z list of kinks and fetishes. It’s not all-inclusive: Any hot thing you’re fixated on can be its own fetish, so don’t despair if yours isn’t on that list or the one included just below. It’s just good to have a place to start in terms of what you might come across as you go.

  • Impact play is focused on a top striking a bottom’s body with their hands or implements like canes, paddles, floggers, or whips. Here’s a guide to safety during impact play.
  • Rope bondage refers to the practice of restraining or binding someone with rope, which is not necessarily always Shibari (and doesn’t need to be). Shibari refers specifically to a type of rope bondage which originated in Japan. I highly recommend researching Japanese Shibari educators and practitioners to understand how to respectfully engage in Shibari. Whatever you’re doing, read up on rope safety practices first.
  • Sensation play is when the goal is arousal or stimulation through senses (like playing with ice, Wartenberg wheels, or hot wax). Seek out a safety guide for whatever you’re doing—you should look for sources that outline actual health risks, not just, “Here’s what feels good and what doesn’t.”
  • Sharps play involves, well, sharp stuff like needles, knives, or scalpels. Obviously, you’ll need to know a little more about mitigating risks if this is what you’re into—start with this Healthline guide.
  • Breath play involves restriction of oxygen. Look up how to minimize risk before choking of any kind.
  • Edge play refers to especially high-risk play of any kind, like rope suspension, knife play, or needle play. 

How can I find out more about what kinks I’m into?

People get into kink through porn, social media, sexual experimentation, fanfics, and beyond. There’s no shame if you read or watched 50 Shades of Grey and got curious! (Just know that the books and films are filled with inaccuracies about BDSM, consent, and safety practices.)

Reeru, a 32-year-old sadist top in Brooklyn, found out he was kinky when a partner used restraints on him. “I was teased until I couldn’t take it anymore,” he said. Reeru freed himself from the restraints and took the dominant role, which he said “awakened that part of [him].” Afterwards, he sought out kink more straightforwardly.

Like Reeru, you might come to kink through sex, but plenty of people also (or exclusively) consider kink a form of self-expression. Venus Cuffs is a New York–based dominant working in nightlife who uses she and they pronouns. Cuffs uses kink to subvert society’s racist definitions of her. “[In my daily life,] I was expected to be angry—to be a mammy, take care of everyone, be submissive, and be a servant. To never truly have any power,” they said. Through BDSM, she said, they’re served and honored by men instead.

To investigate what makes you feel turned on or otherwise piqued: Read books about kinky sex and see what makes you horny as you read. Watch kinky porn. Go to an event to watch kinky performances. Finally, taking the famous online BDSM test can point you toward what you might like—it’s kind of cringe and hilarious, but I don’t know anyone in kink who hasn’t taken it at least once, even just for fun.  

How do I find kinky people?

Plenty of people enjoy kink with their usual romantic and sexual partners. But you can also look into dedicated communities if you’re hoping to dip your toes (or whatever body parts you like) into local and online kink scenes. 

Many people recommend starting by exploring FetLife, a kinky social network. Some disclaimers: It’s not very user-friendly—its interface looks and is almost charmingly bad—and, as on any platform, some users are rude or bigoted. Still, FetLife is the only platform of its kind, and it remains one of the better ways for newcomers to find people and events.

For one-off encounters, dating apps can be useful. Feeld, which is marketed to people seeking group sex, is particularly kinky compared to other apps, but you can find potential partners on the more general and popular apps. I’m currently in my “off again” phase with apps, but this is usually my bio (go ahead and roast me): “I’m a non-monog masochistic bottom looking for new connections. Into impact play, plants, my cats, police/prison abolition, and bruise pics.” Feel free to adapt it based on what you’re into.

How do I vet partners?

Remember how I turned up to a stranger’s basement with no idea what I was doing? Don’t be like me! I’m lucky everything turned out OK, but kink can be physically and emotionally risky. Look into potential partners—and, ideally, meet in public—before they tie you up and spit on you (or vice versa). 

When I’m talking to new people about playing together, I ask them how long they’ve been doing the activity at hand and what their skills are. Understanding more about a partner’s history and qualifications can help prevent mistakes and injuries—for instance, a top should be able to tell you how they plan to keep you both safe. Exploring with an inexperienced partner who wants to learn can be OK, but less so if you learn they’ve never tied anyone up before when you’re already suspended from the ceiling.

I ask people I’m vetting how they define consent and to describe their risk profiles (this is a common kink phrase covering how intense a person is willing to get during rough play). If that feels right, I check their social media accounts for red flags—have they posted about having no limits or hating safe words?—and I ask my community members what they know about the person. Ideally, I’m able to speak with a previous partner to confirm that things went well. (That’s right—I ask for kink references, and you should, too.)

It’s not possible to do this deep of a dive at parties, but before tying with a rope top at an event, I ask what they know about preventing nerve damage and where and when they learned to tie.

If I’m comfortable with their answers, we keep talking—most of the time. Sometimes nothing comes up that’s a problem, but something you can’t quite put your finger on gives you pause. Trust your gut! If someone feels off, they might not be dangerous, but they’re probably not for you.

What if I’m looking for a professional to teach me about kink?

People explore kinks with professional dom(me)s, submissives, and fetish providers for a low-stakes way to get a little experience before seeking out unpaid partners. Mistress Danielle Blunt, who is a professional Dominatrix, said, “Hiring [a professional] can be a great way to explore kinky desires for newbies, because it takes the pressure off having to navigate something that can be scary or feel shameful with a partner.”

Some people, like me, just prefer working with pros. Bottoming for rope can be dangerous, and since I’ve researched the risks, I almost exclusively tie with people who get paid to know what they’re doing. Knowing I’m in good hands, I can get into a juicy, wonderful space when I’m being suspended—one that feels full of catharsis and release.

People can hire pros for so many things: A client might want someone to top them in spanking scenes. They might want to learn how to tie rope themselves, or for someone to teach them proper ball-busting technique. Whatever it is people are doing while working with professionals, they’re expected to be respectful of their boundaries, time, and rates.

How can I tell if a kink event is safe?

First, let’s talk about what kink events and parties even are. Events aren’t always orgies. You might also come across performances, workshops, mixers, classes, and play parties. 

When you see parties advertised online, look for two acronyms:

  • RACK, which stands for “risk-aware, consensual kink,” and means all parties agree to understand and consent to the risks in any activity.
  • NMIK, which stands for “no minors in kink,” as in, don’t engage in kink with minors or let minors attend kink events!  

Before any kind of party, organizers might throw “munches,” which allow you to meet people in expectation-free settings prior to partying together. Munches can happen just before an event that includes touching or sex, or completely separately. They generally occur in public places (or virtually) and people attend without their whips, and with clothes on.

Whether you’re at a munch or looking into an event independently: Ask organizers about consent practices. A zero-tolerance policy for violations is great, but get specific. What happens if someone reports that happening?

Reeru suggested more questions to guide your decision-making about event safety:

  • “Are there dungeon or consent monitors present and easily identifiable?” (“Dungeons,” by the way, are established BDSM spaces.)
  • “How do you vet performers, professionals, and guests?”
  • “Are people using drugs or alcohol?”
  • “Are safer sex practices being observed?”
  • “Are vaccinations mandatory?”

If organizers don’t have good (or any) answers, steer clear. However, if you mostly like an event, but notice something is lacking or vague, bring it up! If they’re amenable to making changes to prioritize people’s safety and comfort, that’s a really good sign.

How should I act at kink events?

The first way to fit in at a kink event happens before you get there: Follow directions about what to wear. Generally speaking, jeans and a T-shirt are too casual. Think more Euphoria vibes. Many, if not most, parties require you to turn a look within dress codes like fetish gear or formalwear—I’ve seen a Moulin Rouge theme, and people love latex-and-leather parties. Check with coordinators or reread the description to make sure you’re dressing the part.

As with their dress codes, each event is going to vary in terms of what’s socially expected and acceptable. If you have questions about what is or isn’t OK, ask an organizer.

One thing holds true everywhere you go: Behave respectfully. As Venus Cuffs said, “BDSM does not exist without consent, which should be the foundation of all your play. There are no exceptions to this rule—without it, it’s abuse.” This is true of all kinds of kink.

Ask before touching anyone or any toys or equipment. Don’t interrupt while people are mid-scene. Keep a safe distance when watching a scene so you don’t accidentally get hit or make anyone uncomfortable.

What does “negotiating a scene” mean, and how do I do it?

“Negotiation” is a before-scene discussion about participants’ needs, wants, and limits. (Yes, another one!) This conversation varies depending on the scene and partner. If you’re new partners, a negotiation might be extensive, since you’re learning about each other for the first time. If you’ve already been together, you might ask fewer questions or just make sure what you discussed last time still applies. 

Lots of negotiation questionnaires and sheets are available online, but these premises are usually part of all of them:

  • Soft limits are acts and types of kink that you generally don’t want to do, but could be flexible about with the right person, at the right time. One of my soft limits is needle play, which can involve being pierced with gauge needles. I don’t usually want to do it, and I would never do it during my first time with someone—but I’ve tried it, and I would again under proper conditions.  
  • Hard limits are definite nos. One of mine is race play: Under no circumstances will I engage in kink based on racialized power differentials.
  • Safe words are codes that can pause or stop play. Some people don’t use “no” or “stop” because it can be part of pre-negotiated play to feign resistance (hot), and you don’t want someone to actually stop when you’re having a good time (not hot). Like many newcomers and experienced people alike, I use stoplight colors: “yellow” to indicate I’m approaching my limits, and “red” when I need a full stop.

People can have intense reactions during scenes, even if they think they’re ready for what’s coming and have safe words in place. Sometimes, things can become triggering, or people can become non-verbal. Talking through this in advance can prevent harm in the moment when emotions are high. For example: If you start crying, is that an automatic end to the scene? Is it OK for your partner to just check in?

Mistress Blunt suggested trying these questions as you negotiate:

  • “What does aftercare—what people do to ease out of kink and into the regular world—look like for you?”
  • “Do you like to be checked in on after a scene?”
  • “What makes you feel safe? What makes you feel unsafe?
  • “What should we do if something goes wrong?”
  • “Is there anything I should know about your body or mind?”

Negotiation is just as much about talking through what you like and want to do, which is also really fun. Once you’ve got the above information in place, be sure to focus on pleasure for a while.

How do I reduce physical risks?

Before trying out a new kind of kink, you absolutely have to do your research about the risks involved and best safety practices. Look for both guides and medically sound information about physical risks—you might search online for terms like “how to safely spank someone” or “what are the risks associated with rope bondage?” Read as much as you can, and err on the side of credible medical and health information websites rather than forums or blogs.

If you’re doing a rope scene, learn to identify the signs of nerve damage (even if you are bottoming and don’t know how to tie). If you’re planning to do impact, learn how not to get hit where there are vital organs (avoid the lower back and protect your kidneys).

Before each and every scene, all parties involved should be able to check in with themselves about those risks to see if they are in the mental and/or physical place to engage. Even if some of us are bimbos who like to be degraded, bottoms aren’t just passive participants. Ebibex, a Baltimore-based rope and sharps bottom who’s using a pseudonym for this article, said, “This idea that bottoms are interchangeable bodies, who just ‘look pretty’ in rope, or unskilled recipients, is both harmful and insulting.” In good kink scenarios, bottoms will be as much in control of being safe during a scene as tops are.

You can also reduce harm by choosing not to use drugs or alcohol before and during a scene. This is ultimately up to you, but at least starting your kink journey sober is usually a good idea.

What is aftercare?

Aftercare is the time following a scene when people are returning to “normalcy.” Some people like physical closeness and snacks. Others might shower together or give each other massages. Some people might not want to spend time together at all. That’s all fine, as long as it’s discussed beforehand.

Aftercare doesn’t have to end directly after the scene. Many people like hearing from their partner a day or two after a scene. Ebibex, the  said she likes “talking to and debriefing with anyone I’ve played with—what we liked, what could be different.” This can also mitigate “drop,” which refers to negative feelings that can arise in the days following an encounter. Drop isn’t always preventable, and that’s OK! I receive incredible aftercare and sometimes still drop. In those times, I eat chocolate and watch feel-good movies. I also reach out to my top and let them know I’m feeling bad, and talking often helps.

Postgame communication can help people deal with consent violations or injuries, which can happen even among the most well-intentioned or experienced players. Part of harm reduction is to be prepared for these scenarios, and to know what to do after something has gone wrong. If you’ve gotten hurt or had your consent violated, what do you need or want from the other person? If you hurt someone or violated their consent, how will you show up and respect their wants and needs?

Even when a scene goes perfectly, it’s good to check in and to feel that your safety—and your pleasure—is valuable to your partner, and vice versa.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

The Top 5 Most Commonly Believed Sex Myths

By

When it comes to sex education, many individuals feel left in the dark, leaving many of us believing in various myths and falsehoods about sex, pleasure and their health well into their adult lives.

In an attempt to better educate Britain on sexual health, Lovehoney ran a survey, revealing the most prevalent sex myths and partnered with a sex expert to debunk the most common misconceptions about sex.

According to Lovehoney’s research, it’s clear that there is no shortage of sexual misinformation circulating and sex expert Ness Cooper from The Sex Consultant debunks the top 5 most commonly believed sex myths.

1. ‘Erectile dysfunction is a normal part of growing older and men have to learn to live with it.’

Believed by a third (34%) of individuals

‘Almost 70% of men / those with penises will experience erectile dysfunction by the time they are 70. However, we shouldn’t classify it as normal, as there are many reasons it can affect an individual and these can vary from person to person.’

‘Anyone experiencing erectile issues should see a medical professional to find out the cause. Once the cause of erectile dysfunction is found whether that is psychological, physical, or a mixture of both, there are many treatment methods to help manage symptoms.

2. Sex shouldn’t be painful for women if they are attracted to their partner

Believed by over 1 in 4 (27%) individuals

‘Being attracted to your partner doesn’t stop sex from being painful if you’re experiencing pain during penetration. If you are attracted to your partner it can mean you become aroused easier when thinking or being with them, and this can lead to producing more vaginal lubrication naturally, but may not solve intercourse related pain. There are many reasons someone may experience pain during penetration but whether or not you’re attracted to someone isn’t one of them.’

3. You can tell when you have a STI

Believed by 1 in 5 (21%) individuals

‘Sometimes STIs can go unnoticed due to the incubation time before they really become active in the body. Even when an STI is active and showing up on test results, there aren’t always symptoms. This is why it’s important to get tested regularly as we can’t always tell if we have contracted one.’

4. You can get an STI from a toilet seat

Believed by almost 1 in 5 (18%) individuals

‘STIs (Sexually Transmitted Infections) don’t spread on toilet seats, and ones that spread through contact of bodily fluids don’t survive outside of the body long enough to be transmittable through sitting on them on a toilet seat. The fear of STIs being transmitted via toilet seats has been going around for far too long.’

5. Pulling out is an effective method of contraception

Believed by 15% of individuals

‘Whilst precum often only contains trace amounts of active sperm there is a possibility someone could get pregnant from penetration that has pre-ejaculation. This means that the pull-out method isn’t always reliable.’

Other key findings

  • Almost 1 in 3 individuals do not seek sexual health advice from any source
  • One in ten men get their sexual health advice from porn

  • Understanding the importance of communication is the number one thing individuals wish they had learned about sex sooner.

  • Feeling sexy in your own skin was one of the most popular lessons women wished they’d learned sooner with a third (33%) agreeing compared to only 19% of men.

References

Sex Education Myths Debunked : https://www.lovehoney.co.uk/blog/sex-education-myths-debunked.html

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

My sexual resume, or lack thereof

By

My 60-year-old Catholic immigrant mom called me after my first column was published. She told me that one of her patients at her dental office saw my face next to my column on her news feed. Given the nature of what I write, all I was thinking was, “Well folks, it’s the end for me.”

Luckily, I was able to make up a shaky excuse because her patient couldn’t read English very well. At the time, I almost wished that she could, that she would tell my mother every nasty detail about my sexual and romantic life. Fearing that my mom would take me out of this world just as swiftly as she had brought me into it would have been a great reason to not write about sex anymore.

I didn’t want to write about sex because I believed I wasn’t qualified to write about sex. I’m no Dan Savage, no Alexandra Cooper, no Sofia Franklyn. People always tell me their crazy sex stories, not the other way around. To be honest, I don’t have sex as often as you think a sex columnist would, and I carry terrible intergenerational trauma that taught me to put off intimacy in order to survive. In fact, I was so uncomfortable with being vulnerable that I always felt extremely uneasy when my friends talked to me about something as simple as their favorite sex positions or how many fingers they had up their butthole last weekend.

Alas, being honest with myself and my sexuality was an easier bridge to cross than I had thought it would be. There was no epiphany or anything. I just continued being me. Both in sex and in my writing, I find it amusing to swing back and forth between boisterous confidence and quiet vulnerability, blunt physicality and embellished make-believe. I discovered quickly that sex is everywhere — that every corner of life is overflowing with orgasms, vulvas and phalli.

Everywhere I looked, sex was there looking right back at me — for better or for worse.

Once, while standing on a crowded street in San Francisco, I felt someone’s hand caress me under the hem of my skirt. But when I turned, I could only see the back of his head as he walked away. I was shocked. I mentally reenacted that moment many times, daydreaming about what I wished I’d said to this man who touched me.

I imagined grabbing him by the back of his polo, spinning him around and decking him in the face. I imagined what would have happened if I had worn pants that day instead. I imagined someone noticing what he did and asking me if I was OK. None of these scenarios played out. Instead, my voice caught in my throat. At the time, all I could muster was a private expletive before angry tears began to well up in my eyes.

Moments like those have shown me sex at its worst. As soon as I was old enough to notice, I learned that men wield a unique power to objectify and commodify women’s bodies. I learned that sex is often the manifestation of an unjust imbalance of power. All of the heteronormative, patriarchal, misogynistic and colonialist dimensions of sex left me with little hope of uplifting myself, let alone being vulnerable.

I have, however, also seen sex at its best. I love how beautiful and powerful I feel when someone touches me with care and respect. I love having sex with people who ask me for my consent. I love laughing during sex. I love having sex with people who have grown beyond selfishness, and I love decolonizing my body and unapologetically asking for more.

I have also fallen in love with the sheer physicality of sex, but sometimes I forget this. I have to remind myself that outside of all the oppression and injustice, sometimes sex is just something that makes me feel good. Sex lets me forget how much I hate the way that the patriarchy finds its way into my life, if only for a moment.

Sex is many things, not just eroticism. Sex is everywhere because sex is about power and choice. Sexual chemistry, horniness, intimacy — these are all realities that we will into being, not just happy accidents. Everyone, especially oppressed peoples, can wield the vulnerability of sex to dismantle systems of domination. As soon as I realized that I have the power to advocate for myself, feel good and make other people feel good, writing about sex suddenly didn’t seem that daunting after all.

Noticing that sex surrounds us means embracing our vulnerability and physicality in full. I restored power to myself when I freely chose not to hide or disappear. I thought I wasn’t qualified to write about sex, but I did it anyway. Indeed, most of us are far more qualified to talk about sex than we think. It’s just a matter of paying attention.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

6 Surprising Benefits Of Having Sex On A Daily Basis

As if you needed any more incentive to be having sex, there are actually a myriad of health benefits you gain when you regularly engage in physical intimacy with a partner.

Of course, orgasms are great, and playing with a partner is always fun, but when you routinely jump in the sack to release sexual energy, your mental, emotional, and physical well-being get a much-needed boost.

Here are 6 major benefits of sex:

1. It fortifies the immune system.

When you’re having sex on a regular basis, your body naturally produces more Immunoglobulin A, an antibody that plays a vital role in the immune system’s functionality. This means your body has a better chance to fight off sickness, which is perfect come flu season. Build up those antibodies by having sex.

2. It improves emotional health.

Sex, by nature, is extremely intimate and physical. This means that you don’t need to be having sex with a significant other to create an emotional connection with another person.

Love is something that often grows from sex, but it’s not required to share that closeness with someone. Physical intimacy floods the brain with feel-good hormones, immediately shifting your perception of reality in a positive way.

3. You can learn to have multiple orgasms.

While most people think that only women are capable of achieving multiple orgasms, men can learn to do it as well. The Kinsey Institute reports that about 20 percent of men and 14 percent of women have the ability to orgasm multiple times. Are you part of the lucky bunch that gets off several times?

4. It works your body physically.

Exercise has been the clear answer to getting in shape and being healthy for decades now. It can be difficult to get motivated to go to the gym, but the motivation to have sex usually comes naturally.

When you have sex, you typically build up your cardiovascular stamina, as well as muscles in the back, legs, hips, and abdominals. Shed a few extra pounds and improve balance by regularly having sex.

5. Practice makes perfect.

Just as with most anything in life, practicing sex on a routine basis helps you get better at it. For men, this can mean lasting longer, which, in turn, helps women achieve their orgasm.

For women, it can often mean learning how to orgasm faster or easier. Whatever your specific benefit is, two people working at sex every day will naturally become better at it.

6. It helps keep you young.

Dr. David Weeks surveyed 3,500 people and discovered that everyone reported sex as being the “most intense kind of pleasure.” He also found that sex stimulates the production of certain chemicals in the body. Routine, loving sex was seen as the second most important factor when it came to retaining youth, just behind physical and mental activity.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

How To Discuss Your Deepest, Darkest Desires and Kinks With Your Partner

Discussing our innermost fantasies can be scary. But they can also help unlock a whole new world of pleasure.

By Shamani Joshi

It’s easy to rant about some of the more mundane parts of life – hectic work schedules, disappointing travel experiences and failed diet fads. It’s the deeper, darker crevices of our consciousness that are often difficult to divulge.

Especially when it comes to sexual fantasies, fetishes and kinks, the prospect of dissecting and discussing them can be daunting, tinged with the fear that the person privy to them may look at you differently or even judge you. From wanting to suck on someone’s toes to tying them up to role-playing a ravishment fantasy, voicing one’s deepest, darkest desires and kinks can leave a person feeling extremely vulnerable and overly exposed.

However, it can also be incredibly gratifying, especially when approached with the aim of achieving intimacy or unlocking new worlds of pleasure with a partner. And now that we’ve lived through a semi-apocalypse, two years of tight regulations and restrictions have fuelled a curiosity in pushing the boundaries of our bedroom lives for many of us. Maybe that explains why more people are gravitating towards kink or why fetish clubs and parties are booming.

Kink is a broad term that encompasses a bunch of alternative sexual interests, preferences or fantasies that go beyond vanilla sex – though vanilla’s bad rap is bogus. This might include BDSM, role-playing, or impact play such as spanking and whipping.

According to the 2015 Sexual Exploration in America Study Trusted Source, more than 22 percent of sexually active adults do role-playing, while more than 20 percent are into being tied up and spanking. Meanwhile, another 2016 survey also found that even in cases where people didn’t have the opportunity to explore their desires, nearly half of those surveyed were interested in it.

Today, a growing number of researchers and “sexperts” can attest to how much openly communicating your kinks to your partner can do for your relationship as well as your personal health.

But because it can be quite an overwhelming experience even when you’ve been with a significant other for a while, we asked experts about how to broach the topic. Here’s what they had to say.

Build up a comfort level 

When it comes to opening up about desires buried deep inside you, perhaps the most important aspect is making sure your connection with the person you want to try them with is equally deep. 

“The right time and place to bring up the fantasy conversation is when you feel safe with a partner,” Sara Tang, a sex coach who runs a podcast called Better in Bed, told VICE. Tang stressed that by allowing our partners to access our innermost thoughts and sexual fantasies, we could build an intimacy that then allows them to see us for who we are more clearly. However, this is not necessarily driven by how long you’ve been together or what stage of the relationship you are in. 

“It’s really about trust and communication more than time,” Laura Halliday, a sexual health and wellness educator who runs a website called School of Squirt told VICE. “You can have a kink relationship right off the bat or bring it up once you’re in a more long-term situation. The key is that you’re both open about your likes and dislikes as well as boundaries.”

However, experts pointed out that it is always better to discuss the fantasies with a partner rather than wait for them to be discovered.

“When a fantasy is discovered, it can become a source of conflict and misunderstanding within a relationship and even be destructive,” Tang said. She explained that stumbling into your partner’s porn cache or finding their profile on a kinky social networking site could bring with it a sense of betrayal, as opposed to a partner proactively discussing the fantasy.

Test the waters

Given how scary the prospect of rejection can be in such situations, experts recommend approaching the topic slowly and carefully rather than cannonballing straight into it.

“When you’re not sure how your partner will react or respond, I recommend bringing up the discussion in a casual way by saying that someone you know is into this kink,” said Pompi Banerjee, a kink-affirmative psychologist. Banerjee recommends a tactic whereby the person bringing up the kink can first gauge how their partner reacts when they are removed from the situation. “It would give you a sense if they would be into it or not, and you will feel less embarrassed or judged if they are not.”

She added that it was important for couples to have this conversation as a pleasure-oriented discussion rather than one driven from dissatisfaction. 

“If someone feels very safe or connected with their partner, they can bring it up and say, ‘I was thinking about our sex or love life and there are certain things I would love to try out,’” Banerjee said.

Set your boundaries

Informed, enthusiastic consent, experts emphasized, is key in taking your conversation to the next level.

“It’s important to understand that fantasies aren’t necessarily what we want in reality. That is why they’re called fantasies,” Tang said. “Always explain to your partner that there’s no pressure to explore the fantasy, especially if it’s not their thing. The best ground rules are that any exploration only happens with their consent, and that you will always respect their boundaries.”

Tang said that diving into a fantasy should be done slowly and steadily. “Take baby steps to build comfort and trust with the idea of exploring. For example, maybe you could do some role play or engage in some dirty talk with your partner to get you in the mood before trying out the fantasy in real life.”

Experts say role-playing can help your partner understand what exactly they might be getting into.

“Your partner needs to be 100 percent comfortable with voicing their likes, dislikes, and discomforts,” said Halliday. “You can role play this [fantasy] with them if they have a hard time voicing [it] themselves.” This roleplay can either be by acting out the fantasies before diving into them wholeheartedly or even just talking it out. 

Halliday also suggests using a safe word, a code word or signal that a person uses to express when they are uncomfortable, before getting into a fantasy, especially if it’s something that may be outside your partner’s comfort zone.

“A safe word is an absolute must,” she reiterated. “You should also set firm boundaries beforehand so no lines are accidentally crossed. And, of course, get continued consent through the encounter by asking questions like ‘should I touch here now?’ Or ‘do you want me to try this?’”

In fact, experts point out that safety isn’t only a matter of your partner feeling you are going too far. It should, in fact, power the process on the whole. 

“Think about safety, and not just the physical kind but also physiological, psychological and emotional safety,” said Banerjee. “Almost all of us have some traumas or triggers, so it’s important to first understand what could trigger your partner and make them feel unsafe. That’s why it’s essential to constantly check in with them and ask if they are feeling okay.”

Experts also recommend setting a worst-case scenario game plan that anticipates how everything could go wrong, by considering the most severe possible outcome and finding a solution to it. “A good debrief afterwards is also helpful, where you and your partner can process the experience together,” said Tang, recommending that couples ask questions about how the experience was and talk about the emotions they went through.

Accept that it may not work out

Even if you’ve been careful and considerate about everything stated thus far, things might not go according to plan. We’re not bots, after all.

“There’s no guarantee that a fantasy won’t make things awkward in reality,” said Tang, pointing out that in her experience, it is quite common to find fantasies much more enjoyable in one’s mind than in reality. “The best way you can reduce the likelihood of things getting awkward is to discuss and negotiate everything beforehand in as much detail as you can. Talk about your expectations, and any fears or feelings about exploring the fantasy. Share what each of you are and aren’t OK with trying out. Err on the side of over-communication rather than sharing too little, as that could help your partner not feel embarrassed, hurt and violated.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

After surviving cervical cancer, I’m teaching my kids about sexual health to save their lives

Using the anatomical names for private parts and getting vaccinations against HPV by age 12 can help keep children healthy into adulthood

Experiences and lessons from childhood can influence a person’s understanding of their own sexual health, and affect the quality of care they receive.

By Eve McDavid

Staring at the speckled gray tiles of the exam–room ceiling, I planned out my last day at Google before maternity leave while my OB/GYN performed a pelvic exam. Once we wrapped, I’d zip to the office to tie up loose ends. Instead, I heard her say “irregular” as she discovered a tumor, and my world collapsed.

There are an estimated 36,000 cases of cancer related to the human papillomavirus (HPV) in the United States annually; last year, my Stage 2B cervical cancer diagnosis was one of them. Miraculously, my son arrived safely five weeks early, and I responded incredibly well to treatment. In time, our young family rebounded; I proudly reached remission this year.

As a systems expert who studies patterns in consumer behavior, I felt compelled to understand why so many women are underinformed when it comes to the importance of cervical health care. What I found is that experiences and lessons from childhood can influence a person’s understanding of their own sexual health, and affect the quality of care they receive.

So, how do we help our children — boys, girls and gender non-conforming — become comfortable with their bodies, speak up when issues arise and understand the importance of preventive care? I spoke with public health and medical experts to identify foundational childhood experiences that can normalize sexual health and, most importantly, keep our kids healthy.

Teach the names of private parts

It’s hard for a person to be proactive about sexual health when they’re not comfortable using proper anatomical names for genitals. “Private parts” was the only acceptable term in my upbringing; it was a conscious, necessary adjustment to teach my children to call and recognize their genitals by “vagina” and “penis.” Even if it feels awkward at the beginning, keep going. A 1992 study in the Journal of Sex Education and Therapy found that children whose parents taught them the anatomical names, because of the modeling at home, were most likely to remember.

Children unashamed of their genitals are also more likely to speak up if they’ve experienced sexual abuse or another health issue, says Princess Nothemba Simelela, who leads the World Health Organization’s Cervical Cancer Elimination Initiative.

Simelela says that by age 5, children can understand their bodies and associated boundaries. Using stories and animated graphics, she has taught young girls about what kind of touches are not okay. The same lesson can be taught to boys, too, she says: “You know, if you touch here and here, it’s inappropriate … If somebody fondles you or touches this part of your body, you must let someone else know.”

Get your children vaccinated against HPV by age 12

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says the HPV vaccine is the best protection against six cancers caused by the virus and recommends that all children ages 11 to 12 get vaccinated (though kids as young as 9 can receive a shot). A recent U.K. study found that vaccinating girls ages 12 through 18 against HPV could substantially reduce the incidence of cervical cancer, particularly when vaccination happened at age 12 or 13. Education about this issue is particularly important in Black and Hispanic communities, where cervical and other HPV-related cancers are more prevalent.

I received the HPV vaccine in my 20s after I’d contracted a high-risk strain, so it wasn’t as effective; I’m practically counting the days until my children are 9 and I can provide them with the gift of cancer prevention.

“That we have this vaccine that can prevent the virus, it’s kind of a magic bullet,” says Jessica Rose, an OB/GYN at Bellevue Hospital in New York and assistant professor in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at NYU Grossman School of Medicine. “There’s nothing else out there that can do it.”

Twenty years of evidence supports the HPV vaccine, says Maria Trent, chief of adolescent and young adult medicine at Johns Hopkins University.

“The first thing is that the vaccine is safe. It’s been tested on millions of people, and the thing is that we’ve seen change, just like we’ve seen change with the chickenpox vaccine,” she says. “I haven’t seen a case of chickenpox in years because we vaccinate people. Nobody should suffer like I did when I was 3 with chickenpox, right? We’ve seen the same thing in HPV.”

Trent urges decoupling the vaccine from sex, which prevents some physicians from administering it.

“I don’t think you have to have ‘the talk’ to give your kid the HPV vaccine. It’s just not a requirement,” she says. “No one is going on tangents about your Tdap [a vaccine to prevent tetanus, diphtheria and whooping cough], you know, other than to say, ‘If you step on a rusty nail, this is going to help you.’”

The vaccine is also recommended for boys because it protects against HPV transmission as well as anogenital, penile, and head and neck cancers. “The data suggests there are risks for subsets of men related to cancer,” Trent says, “and we want to prevent people from having genital warts, too.”

Make sex education part of family conversations

Researchers discovered the link between HPV — the most common sexually transmitted infection — and cervical cancer in the 1990s, around the time I first attended sex education in public school. But, like most women, I never learned about this in school. Instead, I found out about the link after my HPV diagnosis.
“You can’t leave the conversation about the first menstrual event to somebody else,” says Simelela of the WHO. “Make it something that the family talks about like we talk about their grades, their performance on the sports field. You’ve got to make this a day-to-day conversation. That’s what I tell a mom, that ‘it’s your responsibility … It’s you, at the end of the day, you take responsibility for this and for the well-being of your child.’ ”

“We spend billions of dollars on STD [sexually transmitted disease] management and unplanned pregnancies in the United States; the least we can do is tell young people how to take care of themselves, how to prevent adversity down the road,” she says. “If they don’t have that information, they can’t incorporate that into their decision-making.”

Navigate difficult topics with trusted health-care providers

As a young adult, I went to my first gynecology appointment alone, unprepared for the stark difference from seeing my pediatrician. Lacking the language to comfortably discuss sexual health, I only sheepishly spoke up. After cancer, I realize that being afraid to ask questions can affect the care patients receive and doctors can administer.

Now I view my health as a trusted partnership between myself and my provider, and that’s a value my husband and I instill in our children. At home, we talk as a family about the many reasons to visit the doctor. Eventually, we’ll discuss what my cancer diagnosis means for the kids as they grow up and independently seek care.

Find a pediatrician or adolescent-medicine provider with whom your child is comfortable discussing difficult topics.

“I would also say to parents that it’s important for them to allow their young person space when they need to talk to [their doctor],” Trent advises, “knowing that we always would loop parents back in if their young person is in trouble.”

Rose, the Bellevue OB/GYN, says gynecologists are working to improve the care continuum from adolescence into adulthood. “There’s been a move in our specialty to make the transition smoother,” she says. “For patients, there’s a lot of normalizing why women go to the gynecologist. There are plenty of reasons to see a gynecologist, even if you’re not sexually active.”

For parents, there’s no end to the child-rearing advice we receive. Having just survived cervical cancer, I believe this may be the most important: Give your child the gift of life that preventable cancer won’t cut short.

As Simelela of the WHO says: “Here you may have such a unique opportunity to leave a legacy for the next generation where they can never experience this painful disease, and instead read about it in a museum. It’s possible.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

A Better Way to Write About Sex

Works that question how we think about love and desire: Your weekly guide to the best in books

By Kate Cray

J. H. Kellogg may be best known for his popular cereal brand, but his legacy includes much more than just breakfast. The inventor of corn flakes was also a health activist who lobbied aggressively for controversial practices—including painful and extreme measures to prevent masturbation. As the book Sex in America argues, the breakfast magnate’s campaign against self-pleasure cast the normal and healthy activity as taboo, just like many of the other anti-sex forces that had dominated the country for centuries.

But those forces couldn’t persist forever. In recent years, an attitude of sex positivity has become the norm, counteracting this long-standing culture of shame. Sex actually is good, the new thinking goes, and people should be having more of it (with consent, of course). Still, although the empowering philosophy has expanded our understanding of sexuality (and is infinitely preferable to a culture of shame), its liberating power has sometimes been hindered by the simplistic way many people apply it. “Positive” may be too one-note of an outlook on something as messy and complicated as sex.

For one, not everyone wants sex. As the journalist Angela Chen explores in her book Ace, our culture’s obsession with sexual attraction can leave those with different experiences feeling abnormal or as though they have a problem that needs to be solved. Even those who do crave sex don’t crave all sex or all sexual experiences. The broad defense for any critiques of our sexual attitudes seems to be consent: If everyone involved said yes, then there can’t be a problem. But this framework is inherently limited, the academic Katherine Angel writes in Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again, as it ignores the power dynamics that sometimes restrict the freedom of our choices. We need a standard for communication that goes beyond mere agreement.

Talking about any of this can seem impossible. Sex positivity does mandate openness, but as shows like Netflix’s Sex Education demonstrate, that forthrightness often seems to permeate only conversations that celebrate sex—not those that question or complicate it. But nuanced and caring discussions about the topic do exist. One place to find them is in romance novels. The genre may have its roots in bodice rippers, many of which cast scenes of rape as romantic, but new writers are aware of these past failings—and are eager to do better. As the author Jasmine Guillory told my colleague Hannah Giorgis in 2018, she aims to write characters who respect each other and who seek not just consent but enthusiasm. In doing so, she is charting a better way to write about love and desire.

What We’re Reading

illustration of a bird and a bee

Why are young people having so little sex?

“Signs are gathering that the delay in teen sex may have been the first indication of a broader withdrawal from physical intimacy that extends well into adulthood.”

crowd of people

The limits of sex positivity

“As American culture has become more expansive in its understanding of sexuality, so has sex therapy. But this kind of sex positivity often doesn’t leave room for those who don’t want sex at all.”

Silhouette of female torso in pink over profile of face in green and shape of a hand with photo of woman's nose and lips

The problem with being cool about sex

“Half a century after the sexual revolution and the start of second-wave feminism, why are the politics of sex still so messy, fraught, and contested?”

Stills from 'Sex Education,' 'Sex: Unzipped,' and 'Sex, Love, and Goop'

Where sex positivity falls short

“The catch of a faultlessly sex-positive universe in which everyone’s up for everything is that there isn’t much space to explore what happens when they’re not.”

illustration of two people on a background printed with Cupid's arrows

How to write consent in romance novels

“[Jasmine] Guillory is particularly skilled at writing the men who woo her novels’ female protagonists with compassion and empathy … Guillory’s male leads aren’t perfect, but they’re unwavering in their respect for the women at the center of these stories.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

Think before you sext

— The experts’ guide to teen dating

‘Once you know that you like and trust this person enough to go on a real-life date – ask them’.

From first kisses to ghosting, dating can be a minefield for young people. Here’s how to have a happy, healthy romance

By

Take things offline

Teen relationships often start online, so how do you progress to a real-world date? The first step is to make your chat more meaningful, says Charlene Douglas, an intimacy coach and sexual health educator. “Online, young people can banter for hours, so try to move the conversation on. Rather than just talking about celebs, or who said what at school, bring those situations back to what you have in common.”

Then introduce voice messaging and video calls, “to see if you really like the vibe of a person and to check they’re human”, says Hardeep Dhadda, presenter of the relationships podcast Thank You, Next. Her co-presenter, Raj Pander, suggests watching something at the same time on Netflix. Then: “Once you know you like and trust this person enough to go on a real-life date – ask them.”

Put safety first

Be sure they are who they say they are (Pander suggests checking tagged pics on Instagram), and meet in a public place, telling someone when and where you’re meeting. Pander says: “Not everyone is a serial killer, but it’s good practice to act as if they could be.”

Manage your emotions

Butterflies in your stomach? Heart racing? “It’s normal to feel that way,” says Chloe Goddard McLoughlin, a psychotherapist and relationship counsellor. “Just tell the other person that you’re nervous, because I guarantee they will be as well.”

Pander, who is 37 and a self-confessed shy dater, says: “I plan a phone call with a friend before so they can prep me. We always have a contingency plan if anything gets weird, so if I text them they’ll call me so I can pretend there’s an emergency and leave.”

Be chatty

“Try to keep it light and talk about things you’re passionate about, as when you do that, your whole energy lights up,” says Douglas. Dhadda agrees: “If you like something – animals, sustainable fashion or Billie Eilish – let your date know. How can someone get to know you if you’re holding back or pretending to be someone else?” But there are no-nos: “If someone brought up sex on a first date, I’d be put off.”

Know how to end a date

“Be polite,” says Dhadda. “Consider their feelings, as they may have had the best time ever.” Pander agrees: “Tell them you had fun – even if you didn’t – look at the time and say you’d better be off.” If they message asking to meet again, be honest but respectful. Douglas recommends replying: “You’re a great person but I just don’t think we’re suited.”

Don’t sweat your first kiss

“It’s part of our cultural mythology that the first kiss is the best, but for most people it’s pretty average, so don’t sweat it,” says Goddard McLoughlin. Remember, a kiss should only happen when you’re both comfortable and have given consent. “It may take the sexiness away, but saying ‘can I kiss you?’ means you have permission and haven’t misread signals,” says Douglas.

Think about when to make things official

When do you change your status or update your profile pic to a cute couple selfie? For Pander, once you’re sure you like and trust the person, you can ask what they think about making things official. But she warns: “Do you really need them in your profile pics or online status? You’re your own person: don’t let your relationship take over your identity.”

Work out if you’re ready to have sex

“First, know the facts about sex, intimacy and pleasure,” says Douglas. “Speak to a trusted older family member, whether that’s a sister or an aunt. Don’t feel pressured into anything you don’t feel comfortable with. Douglas says of her work at a girls’ school: “A lot of the girls felt they should lose their virginity on their 16th birthday. Sometimes they regretted it because it wasn’t pleasurable or they felt used. Just because the law says you’re ‘of age’ doesn’t mean you have to do anything.”

Learn how to boost your confidence

Just over half of 11- to 16-year-olds worry often about how they look, but try shifting your focus. “Imagine the most confident version of yourself,” says Natasha Devon, who gives talks at schools and universities on mental health and body image. “Think about how you stand, move and feel when you’re relaxed and self-assured, and emulate that. When we look at someone, we see them as a whole package.”

Stay aware of consent

“People think if they’ve said yes once, they can’t change their mind,” says Goddard McLoughlin. “But you have the right to say no at any point.” Douglas adds: “If you’ve said yes to a kiss, you have the right to say, midway through, ‘I want to stop.’ Similarly, if you feel ready for sex but when it comes down to it you don’t want to do it, that needs to be respected.” If you’re on the receiving end of a no, don’t feel like a horrible person, says Douglas. “Remind yourself it’s a positive thing your partner is able to share this.”

Think before you sext

A recent Ofsted report found that 80% of girls feel under pressure to send sexual images. Douglas says: “Once you send a picture, you can’t control where it goes, who sees it, or whether it’s shared. If it’s shared on the internet, it can stay there for ever.”

Understand how to handle rejection

If you’ve been rejected, Douglas says, “allow yourself to feel that pain. Be around people who are positive and who love you, and do one good thing for yourself every day.” Goddard McLoughlin suggests shifting your perspective: “Often it’s about the other person, not you.”

Avoid being spooked by ghosting

For Pander, ghosting is evidence that someone isn’t worth your precious energy. If someone suddenly cuts you off, it means they “weren’t brave enough to have an honest conversation with you. You deserve better.” Despite the crushing pain, reframe it as a lesson, says Douglas. “It teaches you the kind of person you want to be with, how you want to be treated and how you want to feel in a relationship. In future you won’t even remember the person’s name. I say that from experience.”

Don’t use porn to educate yourself

Recent research found that 45% of young people who watched porn did so, in part, to “learn” about sex, but Douglas says: “Run a mile when it comes to being educated from porn, because it isn’t an honest representation.” If you feel clueless in the bedroom, she recommends educational websites around intimacy, like climax.com or OMGYes. If you must watch porn, use the ethical kind, says Douglas: “The site makelovenotporn.tv is diverse, real and respectful. You’ll see consent, and there are elements about the importance of touch, foreplay and eye contact.” You will also see different races and sexualities, and real bodies.

… and don’t let Covid get you down

There’s nothing like a pandemic to make dating even more stressful. But according to Dr Christian Jessen, life must go on: “If a young person asked me if they should go on a first date, I would say yes. Teenagers need to carry on having as normal a life as possible.” To mask or not to mask? Jessen says: “Follow the guidelines of wherever you are.” Maybe pop it in a message to your date beforehand, so there’s no surprises. Want to ask about someone’s vaccination status? Jessen says go for it: “It encourages more adult conversations down the line about things like STIs.”

Don’t get too fixated on pandemic fears, he adds. “It’s hard to separate dating anxiety from Covid anxiety, but don’t hide behind Covid as an excuse not to date. If you’re young, generally fit and healthy, meeting one person doesn’t put you at high risk – and meeting them outdoors even less so.”

And remember, dating should be fun …

It’s about meeting different people, connecting with them and figuring out what makes you tick. “There will be firsts, there will be laughs and there might be a few tears, but try to shake off any pressure and have fun,” says Pander. “I laugh at my teen dating experiences now – and I’m sure you will, too.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

Posted on

Where Sex Positivity Falls Short

Television wants to help us get better at talking about sex, but some of its recent offerings miss a crucial point.

By Sophie Gilbert

Since its debut in 2019, Sex Education, Netflix’s charming and filthy comedy about teenagers at a bucolic British high school, has been a jewel in a very mixed bag of streaming content. I’ve loved and appreciated its sweetness, its sex positivity, and its absurd dramatization of school as a place where everyone is willingly and creatively getting it on, no matter the real-world evidence to the contrary. In the show’s conceit, Otis (played by Asa Butterfield), the awkward, virginal son of a sex therapist (the regal Gillian Anderson), finds self-worth and—in the end—satisfaction by giving sex advice to his cluelessly horny peers, despite having no practical experience of his own to draw on. All sex problems, the show posits, are really just communication problems. Talking openly about things (the shape of vulvas, douching, intergalactic alien erotica) diminishes shame, which means no more dysfunction. Right?

In so many ways, Sex Education is a fantasy. It’s an oddly nostalgic, Frankensteinian fusion of ’80s American movieland and British humor, all wooded landscapes and mid-century furniture and regional slang. Of late, though, I’ve started to wonder whether the show’s cheerful raunch is obscuring something crucial. Midway through the recent third season, Olivia (Simone Ashley) reluctantly agrees to have sex with her boyfriend without a condom. (“You know it feels soooo much better. Please,” he whines.) Later, panicked that she might be pregnant, she visits a sexual-health clinic in town, where a nurse gently asks if her boyfriend is pressuring her to have unprotected sex, and how that makes her feel. “Like I can’t enjoy the sex, because I’m just scared of getting pregnant,” she replies. Soon we see Olivia walking out and telling her best friend, who’s waiting for her, that she knows her boyfriend’s a “dickhead” but she still loves him. To me, it felt like an oddly neat and evasive conclusion to a story line that had raised more questions than it answered. The intimation that people frequently cajole other people into doing things that they’re not comfortable with seems to jibe awkwardly with the show’s generally breezy approach to sexuality. Rather than trying to meaningfully define the nebulous edges of consent, Sex Education changes the subject.

The scene reminded me that the fantastical nature of the series extends beyond its verdant, anachronistic setting. The catch of a faultlessly sex-positive universe in which everyone’s up for everything is that there isn’t much space to explore what happens when they’re not. The show doesn’t just put forth an unhelpfully idealized portrayal of what sex is like for teenagers. (In a recent study of male university students in the United Kingdom, more than 10 percent admitted to committing acts of sexual assault, rape, or coercion in the past two years.) In light of series such as I May Destroy You, Michaela Coel’s intricate, confrontational consideration of assault and consent, a show like Sex Education also feels more limited and confining.

Still, it’s only one in a spate of recent Netflix shows hoping to—if you’ll pardon the double entendre—fill the gaps in our sexual savoir faire. The streamer just released Sex: Unzipped, an hour-long special hosted by the rapper Saweetie that’s a kind of comical revue of modern sexual mores, loosely pegged to what the host dubs a post-pandemic “sex drought.” (“Without sex, Netflix and chill would just be watching a whole-ass movie with someone and not getting it in. Ewwww.”) Its premise, which might feel familiar by now, is that sex of all stripes is great, shaming is bad, and subjects such as coercion, consent, and even plain old discomfort aren’t up for debate at this time. The closest Sex: Unzipped comes to engaging with unequal power dynamics in bed is when the drag queen Trixie Mattel asks a puppet version of the sex educator Dr. Ruth how to make sure she’s treating sex workers ethically and Puppet Dr. Ruth quips back, “Pay double.”

Because of sex positivity’s well-intended focus on embracing openness and negating shame, it can exclude nuance, and sidestep the murkier questions of power and intimacy and trust and trauma that people inevitably bring with them into any sexualized situation. It’s easier for popular culture to present sex as a comedic smorgasbord of erotic experiences, outlandish and heartburn-inducing, than it is to wade into the realm of the unpleasant or regrettable. (That is, unless TV is presenting graphic scenes of sexual violence for arbitrary or titillating reasons.) For six seasons on Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw and her friends prattled about anal sex and porn addiction and depressed vaginas, but rarely did they talk about consent, or how to safely remove yourself from a situation that isn’t what you thought it would be. In embracing openness but not complication, Sex Education and Sex: Unzipped follow the same model.

We don’t, at this point in time, need TV shows to do PR for sex. We do need them to challenge and enrich how we think about it. Sweeping in to the rescue, oddly, comes the person I least expected to be helpful—a woman whose history of selling vagina-scented candles and jade eggs belies the fact that she’s made one of the most counterintuitive and empathetic analyses of sex on TV.

I started watching Sex, Love & Goop limbered up for new feats of eye-rolling. And at first, I got what I was prepared for: Gwyneth Paltrow in a sleeveless gray turtleneck made (one imagines) out of Tibetan-antelope hair; the introduction of “somatic sexologists,” who take a hands-on approach to sexual dysfunction; a wok cleaner repurposed as a sex toy; the breathy teasing of cutting-edge techniques that can “optimize our lives.” But somewhere amid a discussion of the “erotic blueprints” that define how individual people relate to sex, I realized I was riveted. The series wasn’t just examining the kinds of sex lives rarely considered in mainstream culture: lesbian couples, parents, people in their 60s. In acknowledging what a fundamental force expressions of desire can be in people’s lives (a means of “self-realization,” “a pathway for healing,” and everything in between), Sex, Love & Goop seems intent on redefining what people think of as sex altogether. But being a true cheerleader for pleasure also means acknowledging and confronting all the things that might be getting in the way of it.

Over six episodes, the show places five couples whose sexual and romantic lives have plateaued with different therapists who help them try to work out their issues. Some critics have objected to the fact that the series includes only people in long-term, monogamous relationships, but I found this decision revealing—if people can’t communicate openly with their most intimate partner, how are they supposed to do it with strangers? As the couples worked with their therapist, nuggets of information began to emerge: Erika, in a relationship with Damon, struggles to achieve orgasm; Shandra and Camille contend with entrenched shame and guilt about their sexuality and their bodies; Felicitas, the mother of two children with Rama, can’t get past thinking about sex as one more obligation in a day loaded with them. “Once you have a child to take care of, your capacity and willingness to take care of someone else who’s an adult diminishes,” she says. “I’m giving so much of myself, of my body. I do not need any more neediness from anybody.”

What becomes clear as the show continues, though, is how little the people participating know about themselves, and how conditioned they’ve been to avoid intimacy rather than be truly vulnerable. “Your intimate relationship is a meditation in everything that’s wrong with you,” Paltrow quotes one of her past therapists saying in the first episode, not in judgment but to say that our sex lives are usually a symptom or an expression of other parts of our psyches. Damon has understood his whole life that sex is a particular physical act, but when he works with a therapist to explore other kinds of touch, the sensation is so profound that he weeps. Erika realizes in one scene that she’s unwittingly prepared herself for pain before sex, which blocks her from fully experiencing pleasure. “I just realized I’ve been bracing for a long time,” she says, also in tears. “That’s a lot to think about.”

In the fifth episode, Sera and Dash, a couple whose problems aren’t sexual so much as emotional (both have a history of fleeing from relationships), undergo a treatment called family-constellation therapy to dig into their hang-ups. The scene is perhaps the most quintessentially Goopy of the series: A group of constellation-therapy practitioners meets outside, wrapped in folksy blankets, and absorbs the “energy” of the couple in order to channel and perform as their ancestors. “We get an imprint from how we were first loved. Then you are either going to rebel against that or want that,” a relationship expert explains to Paltrow. “In family-constellation work, you get to see it.” The moment wasn’t entirely convincing for me—some of the practitioners were more consciously performing than others—but the revelations about family members who’d deterred themselves from loving others as a kind of self-preservation felt almost universally applicable all the same. To be alive is to be exposed to hurt. But with sex, love, and intimacy, the series argues, invulnerability can be its own kind of psychic wound.

One of the strongest scenes in Sex Education comes midway through the third season, when Maeve (Emma Mackey) kisses Isaac (George Robinson), a neighbor of hers who uses a wheelchair because of a spinal injury. The moment is extraordinarily tender, as the pair continually discuss what they’re doing and negotiate ways to give each other pleasure. “I can’t feel anything below my level of injury,” Isaac tells Maeve. “If you put your hand on my chest, I’ll show you.” They briefly discuss the mechanics of intercourse, but Isaac is clear that they shouldn’t try yet—the intimation being that there’s a level of trust involved that they haven’t quite reached. “When I get touched in the places that I can feel,” he tells her, “it can get a little intense.” She complies, kissing his eyebrows and stroking his face. The chemistry between the two actors is seismic.

It’s maybe the most truly sex-positive scene I can think of on television—an example of two people who are sexually attracted to each other communicating what they want, what they don’t want, what they can do, and what they don’t want to do, yet. It made me wonder why a scene like this exists only for a character with a disability, while virtually everyone else in the series seems to see sex as a kind of eroticized trampoline park, bouncing around cheerfully with no sense of the deeper kinds of connection they might be missing. The unfettered positivity of works such as Sex Education and Sex: Unzipped can also start to feel a little like shaming for anyone whose experiences of sex might have been minimal, or disappointing, or scary. “Our culture teaches us it’s not okay to not know about sex, or to not know exactly what to do,” a therapist says in Sex, Love & Goop. The most striking truth the show reveals is that no one knows anything at all, unless they ask.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!