Search Results: Male

You are browsing the search results for male

Coming down from the high:

What I learned about mental health from BDSM

By Jen Chan

Not too long ago, I took my first step into the world of kink. I was a baby gay coming to terms with my borderline personality disorder (BDP) diagnosis, looking for any and every label that could help alleviate the lack of self-identity that comprises my BPD.

I knew I was queer. I knew I identified as femme. But I didn’t know if I was a dominant (top), a submissive (bottom), or a pillow princess; I didn’t even know if I was kinky.

So I tried to find out.

I began to notice a pattern. The sheer rush of euphoria and affection created a high I felt each time I “topped” my partner, and it would sharply drop the minute I got home. I was drained of energy and in a foul mood for days, often skipping work or class. I felt stuck on something because I wanted to feel that intensely blissful sex all over again, but I couldn’t figure out how to get it back.

If you’re familiar with the after-effects of taking MDMA—the crash, the lack of endorphins, the dip in mood for up to a week later—then you’ve got a pretty good idea of how a “drop” felt for me. Just add in an unhealthy serving of guilt and self-doubt, a pinch of worthlessness and a dash of contempt for both myself and my partner, and voila! Top drop: the less talked about counterpart to sub drop where the dominant feels a sense of hopelessness following BDSM—bondage and discipline, domination and submission, sadism and masochism—if after care is neglected.

In the BDSM community, it’s common to talk about the submissive (sub) experience: To communicate the expectations and needs of the submissive partner before engaging in consensual kinky play, to make sure the safety of the sub during intense physical and/or psychological activities is tantamount, to tend and care for the sub after the scene ends and they’re brought back down to earth.

Outside of this, the rush of sadness and anxiety that hits after sex is known as post-coital tristesse, or post-coital dysphoria (PCD). It is potentially linked to the fact that during sex, the amygdala—a part of the brain that processes fearful thoughts—decreases in activity. Researchers have theorized that the rebound of the amygdala after sex is what triggers fear and depression.

A 2015 study published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine found that 46 per cent of the 230 female participants reported experiencing PCD at least once after sex.

Aftercare is crucial and varies for subs, depending on their needs. Some subs appreciate being held or cuddled gently after a scene. Others need to hydrate, need their own space away from their partner or a detailed analysis of everything that happened for future knowledge. But no matter what the specific aftercare is, the goal is still the same: for a top to accommodate a sub and guide them out of “subspace”—a state of mind experienced by a submissive in a BDSM scenario—as directly as they were guided in.

I asked one of my exes, who’s identified as a straight-edge sub for several years, what subspace is like. As someone who doesn’t drink or do drugs, I was curious about what it was like for them to reach that same ephemeral zone of pleasure.

“It gets me to forget pain or worries, it gets me to focus only on what I’m feeling right then,” they told me. “It’s better than drugs.”

My ex gave up all substances in favour of getting fucked by kink, instead. I’m a little impressed by how powerful the bottom high must be for them.

“The high for bottoms is from letting go of all control,” they added. If we’re following that logic, then the top high is all about taking control.

We ended the call on a mildly uncomfortable note, both trying not to remember the dynamics of control that ended our relationship.  Those dynamics were created, in part, by my BPD, and, as I would later discover, top drop.

In the days to follow, I avoided thinking about what being a top had felt like for me and scheduled a lunch date with another friend to hear his perspective.

“Being a dom gives you the freedom to act on repressed desires,” he told me over a plate of chili cheese fries. This is what his ex said to cajole him into being a top—the implied “whatever you want” dangled in front of a young gay man still figuring himself out.

He was new to kink, new to identifying and acting on his desires, and most of all, new to the expectations that were placed on him by his partner. He was expected to be a tough, macho top to his ex’s tender, needy bottom. His after-care, however, didn’t fit into that fantasy. If that had been different, maybe he wouldn’t have spiraled into a place where his mental health was deteriorating, along with his relationship.

The doubt and guilt that he would often feel for days after a kinky session mirrored my own. We both struggled with the idea that the things our partners wanted us to do to them—the things that we enjoyed doing to them—were fucked up. It was hard to reconcile the good people that we thought we were, the ones who follow societal expectations and have a moral compass and know right from wrong, with the people who are capable of hurting other people, and enjoying it.

For my friend, there was always a creeping fear at the back of his mind that the violence or cruelty he was letting loose during sex could rear up in his normal life, outside of a scene.

For me, there was a deep instinct to disengage, to distance myself emotionally from my partner, because I thought that if I didn’t care about them as much, then maybe I wouldn’t hate them for egging me on to do things I was scared of.

My friend has since recognized how unhealthy his relationship with his ex was. These days, he identifies as a switch (someone who alternates between dominant and submissive roles). The deep-seated sense of feeling silenced that was so prevalent in his first kinky relationship, is nowhere to be seen. He communicates his sexual needs and desires and any accompanying emotional fragility with his current partner. He’s happy.

I’m a little envious of him. My second-favourite hobby is rambling about all of the things I’m feeling, and it’s a close second to my favourite, which is crying. I credit my Cancer sun sign for my ability to embrace my insecurities, but there’s still something that makes me feel like I’m not equipped to deal with top drop.

There’s an interesting contrast between how a top is expected to behave—strong, tough, in control—and the realities of the human experience. When a top revels in the high of taking control, but starts to feel some of that control fading afterwards, how do they pinpoint the cause? How do they talk about that insecurity? How do they develop aftercare for themselves?

One of the hallowed tenets of BDSM and kink is the necessity of good communication; to be able to recognize a desire, then comfortably communicate that to a partner. Healthy, consensual, safe kink is predicated on this.

Complete Article HERE!

It’s time to rethink the social construction of “virginity”

The false concept of purity can be detrimental for healthy sex lives and self-image

“Virginity is a fictional concept constructed by society.”

By Sky Jordan

Virginity has always been a big deal. Countless cultures have been obsessed with the concept from their beginnings.

Yet, many people fail to consider the concept of virginity from different perspectives.

The way we view virginity as a culture is extremely detrimental to the health of our sexualities, especially when you consider that technically, it is not even real.

Virginity is conceptual, it is a social construction. When we have sex for the first time we do not actually lose anything. It does not change our identity, it is not life-altering and it does not affect our worth. It is simply a new experience.

While it is perfectly healthy to want to wait until you are in a committed relationship or married before you have sex, shaming others for not choosing the same path is hurtful.

This is exactly what our cultural view of virginity does. It praises those who remain “pure,” and shames those who choose to have sex before marriage.

“Just because something is a social construction doesn’t mean that is doesn’t carry a lot of emotional weight for people,” Dr. Breanne Fahs, Ph.D. in clinical psychology and women’s studies and associate professor at ASU, said. “However, purity is never a good thing. Whenever that word shows up we should get nervous.”

The idea of purity is used as a means to control and manipulate us into following social norms, especially gender norms. It reinforces the idea that women lack sexuality. Virginity is treated as a commodity that can be lost. So according to this concept, when a woman has sex, she loses her value.

“Who gets saddled with the discourse of purity? Women do,” Fahs said. “When women are trying to feel like they’re negotiating sexual purity, that is never good.”

However, the construction of this ideal does not just hurt women, it’s destructive to men’s sexualities as well. Men are widely shamed for remaining virgins, as it’s loss is a sign of their masculinity and manhood. It’s a “rite of passage,” an exclusive club one can only join by engaging in one of the most intimate human experiences.

“It (virginity) is a new thing that someone is doing, but we mark it as a loss,” Fahs said. “There’s hardly any other experience like it that we frame in that way. You can’t definitively say that virginity is useful or useless, but it definitely points to strong gender dynamics that we want to be careful about.”

Virginity is also exclusively heteronormative. It focuses solely on straight male/female penetrative sex. As a result, it invalidates any sex that does not fit this strict definition, and excludes LGBTQ relationships and sexualities.

The concept of virginity makes it hard to make our own decisions about sex. It attaches guilt and shame to sexuality, and makes it seem like a scary experience that transforms you into completely different person.

As a result people often feel overwhelmed and pressured when deciding if they are ready to have sex, and guilty after the fact.

By buying into the idea of purity, we effectively begin to dismantle the possibility of having a healthy sex life. Many people report feeling dirty after sex, even if they are married. They did everything society would perceive as right, but because they were taught that virginity is such a big deal, losing it is devastating.

If we begin to reframe the idea of virginity, our culture will be able to foster much healthier ideas about sexuality. Everyone should be free to make their own decisions about sex without being held to some gross and damaging social construct.

Complete Article HERE!

How our culture of kink-shaming is making us much less sexually liberated than we think

Why do people with fetish preferences feel stigmatised despite the success of Fifty Shades of Grey?

By Olivia Blair

We now live in a society which is more open and positive about sex than ever before, but one expert says we’re not as sexually free and liberated as our post-1960s society would have us believe.

In his new book, Modern Sexuality: The Truth about Sex and Relationships, Dr Michael Aaron suggests that there is still widespread stigma surrounding sexuality in the modern age. People who have unconventional sexual fantasies are forced into the shadows, and often do not reveal them even to their partners.

He adds that the dialogue around sex in society is often one layered with shame, regulation and restriction.

“I think that laws and attitudes towards sexuality are one of the clearest reflections of the level of freedom afforded in a society. That’s because sexuality is so core to our identities, that censoring it also inevitably has the effect of censoring individual expression,” Dr Aaron told The Independent.

The doctor, who lives in New York City, actually singles out UK laws as one of the most prominent examples of ways in which our sexuality is supposedly restricted. He hones in on the Digital Economy Bill which is currently going through the House of Lords.

The bill proposes to ban a large number of “non-conventional sexual acts” in pornography which is believed to include female ejaculation, sexual acts involving menstruation and urination, and spanking, whipping or canning which leave marks.

He says the inclusion of female ejaculation, menstruation and fisting on the ban-list is “nonsense” and says “it is no coincidence that these laws are introduced at a time when British politics is veering more hard right”.

Dr Aaron also points to laws which regulate, and in some cases criminalise, sex work as examples of infringes upon sexual freedoms.

“Perhaps nowhere else is the government regulation of sex more apparent than in the area of sex work,” he writes arguing that government crackdowns on any kind of sexual behaviour “prevent for the possibility for an honest and open discussion on what sex work means for its participants and how society can provide appropriate resources for those who do choose sex work”.

Laws surrounding pornography and sex work are extreme examples of where sexuality is marginalised in society. However, Dr Aaron says in his therapy sessions he encounters lots of patients who feel shamed over their sexual preferences even when it is no longer considered taboo in society.

“I still have a number of clients who have difficulty coming out and are conflicted about their orientation even though same-sex marriage was approved by the US Supreme Court almost two years ago and issues around homosexuality have been brought into public awareness. Similarly, I see a number of individuals ashamed of their fetishistic interests even though Fifty Shades of Grey just came out with a sequel and the trilogy has sold over 100 million copies.

“There is a big difference between externally accepting something and truly believing it and feeling internally congruent. As a result, even though society has made tremendous progress, I believe most individuals, even the most liberated by all appearances, still carry internal remnants of sexual shame and stigma.”

So how do we liberate ourselves and challenge both internal and external restrictions on our sexuality? Dr Aaron says education is key.

“Right now, a number of young adults and teenagers get all of their sex education from porn, which is like trying to learn about geopolitics by watching the latest Bond movie. In many ways, trying to protect individuals from sex only hurts them further.”

He argues education will also ensure those with less mainstream sexual desires experience less shame and stigma and feel part of the conversation.

“Transparency around sex leads to a more humanistic, supportive, and nurturing society, that is accepting of individuality and unique consensual behaviours, rather one that is authoritarian, patriarchal, and punitive. I think our challenge as a society is to evolve past basic group needs that may be anachronistic and no longer necessary.”

Complete Article HERE!

How Straight Men Who Have Sex With Men Explain Their Encounters

By

The subject of straight-identifying men who have sex with other men is a fascinating one, in that it shines a light on some extremely potent, personal concepts pertaining to identity and sexuality and one’s place in society. That’s why some sociologists and other researchers have been very eager to seek out such men and hear them explain how they fit same-sex sexual activity into their conception of heterosexuality.

The latest such research comes in the journal Sexualities, from Héctor Carrillo and Amanda Hoffman of Northwestern University. They conducted 100 interviews, with men who identified as straight but sought out casual sex with men online, hoping to better understand this population. A big chunk of the article consists of snippets from those interviews, which were primarily conducted online by three female researchers, and at the end Carillo and Hoffman sum up what they found:

They interpret that they are exclusively or primarily attracted to women, and many also conclude that they have no sexual attraction to men in spite of their desire to have sex with men. They define sexual attraction as a combination of physical and emotional attraction, and they assess that their interest in women includes both, while their interest in men is purely or mainly sexual, not romantic or emotional. Moreover, some perceive that they are not drawn toward male bodies in the same way as they are drawn to female bodies, and some observe that the only physical part of a man that interests them is his penis. Men in the latter group do not find men handsome or attractive, but they do find penises attractive, and they thus see penises as ‘living dildos’ or, in other words, disembodied objects of desire that provide a source of sexual pleasure. Finally, as a management strategy for judging that their sexual interest in women is greater and more intense than their interest in men, they sometimes limit their repertoires of same-sex sexual practices or interpret them as less important than their sexual practices with women. That way, they can tell themselves that their sexual interest in women is unbounded, while their sexual interest in men is not.

All this contributes to their sense that they qualify as being called straight or heterosexual, even when some also recognize that their sexualities do indeed differ from exclusive heterosexuality, which in turn leads them to adopt secondary descriptors of their sexual identities. As indicated by the variety of terms that they used, those descriptors often reinforce a perception that, as a sexual orientation category, heterosexuality is elastic instead of rigid — that some degree of samesex desire and behaviour need not automatically push an individual out of the heterosexual category. And while some men are willing to recognize that their sexual behaviours might qualify their being called bisexual — and they may privately identify with that label — they feel that there is no contradiction between holding a private awareness of being bisexual and a public persona as straight or heterosexual. Again, this conclusion is strengthened by a lack of social incentives to adopt bisexual identities.

It’s interesting to keep that interpretation in mind as you read the interview snippets. Take, for example, the men who sought to make it very clear that while they sometimes got with men, they really liked women:

I know what I like. I like pussy. I like women … the more the merrier … I would kiss a woman. ANYWHERE. I can barely hug a man … I do have a healthy sexual imagination and wonder about other things in the sexual realm I’ve never done … Sometimes I get naughty and explore … That’s how I see it. [Reggie, 28]

Women are hot … I can see a beautiful woman walk down the street and I instantly can become hard and get horny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy walking by and got a boner. Also, I would not want to kiss or make out with them or love them. They would be more like a sexual experience. [Charlie, 32]

Some of the men did think that their behavior possibly qualified them as bisexual, but didn’t quite want to take the step of identifying as such:

I think everybody is a little bi. Isn’t that what this research is about? There’s the Kinsey scale … It’s not like Bush saying you’re either with us or with the terrorists. I think I’m probably bi but what I present to the world is a heterosexual man. Internally I’m bi, but that’s not something most people know. I’m not ashamed, but the majority of people are ignorant and close-minded. [Simon, 27]

I am not openly bisexual to society except in sexual situations … I don’t have relationships with men; I am in a relationship with my wife and only love her. [I’m bisexual] only with men behind closed doors. [Dustin, 28]

In addition to being perhaps the first instance in recorded history of someone comparing their sexual orientation to George W. Bush’s counterterrorism doctrine, Simon’s statement contains an important point: Carrillo and Hoffman note that many of their respondents simply “see no real personal or social advantages that would stem from publicly adopting an identity as bisexual or gay.” In many cases, it may not be in their interests to do so — hence the compartmentalization of their same-sex encounters.

Another reason for such compartmentalization is that it allows some men the opportunity to explore parts of their identities they feel they couldn’t safely in heterosexual settings:

For most of my sex life I’m in control of things. I’m not a boss at work anymore but I’ve been in situations where I’ve managed a hundred people at a time. I take care of my family. I take care of my kids. I’m a good father. I’m a good husband in providing material things for my wife … I’m in charge in a lot of places … There’s times when I don’t want to be in charge and I want someone to be in charge of me … that’s what brings me over [to] the bisexuals … it’s kind of submitting to another guy or being used by another guy. [Russell, 54]

“Interestingly,” write Carrillo and Hoffman, “being dominated by a man seemed to them less threatening than being dominated by a steady female partner, perhaps because it could be construed as a temporary fantasy, instead of meaning a permanent change in the gender balance.”

This same dynamic popped up the last study on this subject I covered — the idea that men “get” something about sex that women don’t, and that because there’s a fully mutual understanding that what’s going on is just sex, same-sex experiences can be set off safely away from the rest of one’s (heterosexual) identity. You can be a “good father,” which many men imply to mean being a strong, straight man, while still messing around with men on the side. From these men’s perspective, they can have it both ways — the privileges of identifying as straight and the pleasure and excitement of same-sex relationships on the side — without their identity being threatened.

Complete Article HERE!

Why are some women never able to orgasm? A gynaecologist explains

Dr Sherry Ross says there has long been a gender bias in the way women’s sexual dysfunction has been treated compared to men’s

 

By Olivia Blair

Despite modern society being able to openly discuss female sexuality, there remains a number of existing taboos.

One of the most glaring is female orgasms. Women are rarely taught about the intricate details of their anatomy and often work these things out through their own experimenting.

What is the best way to get an orgasm? How often should I have one? Should I be able to have one during penetrative intercourse? Why have I never had one? – questions not uncommon to hear among small friendship groups of women over a bottle of wine.

Dr Sherry A Ross, an LA-based gynaecologist with 25 years experience aims to educate with a complete guide to the vagina in her new book She-ology: The Definitive Guide to Women’s Intimate Health. Period.

In the foreword of her book, Dr Sherry notes that “talking about the mighty V outside of doctor’s offices and bedrooms has remained a major taboo” and devoted an entire chapter to the female orgasm. The Independent asked the gynaecologist and obstetrician all the questions about female orgasms that are rarely spoken about.

Why might some women never orgasm?

Attitudes regarding sex, sexuality and gender vary greatly between different cultures and religions. Certain sexual practices, traditions and taboos are passed down through generations, leaving little to the cause of female pleasure or imagination.

For some women, finding and/or enjoying sexual intimacy and sex is difficult, if not impossible. Research suggests that 43% of women report some degree of difficulty and 12% attribute their sexual difficulties to personal distress. Unfortunately, sexual problems worsen with age, peaking in women 45 to 64.  For many of these women the problems of sexual dysfunction are treatable, which is why it is so important for women to share their feelings and concerns with a health care provider.

Unfortunately, there has been a history of “gender injustice” in the bedroom. Women have long been ignored when it comes to finding solutions to sexual dysfunction. In short, there are twenty-six approved medications for male erectile dysfunction and zero for women. Clearly, little attention has been paid to the sexual concerns of women, other than those concerns that involve procreation.

How many women might never orgasm?

During my 25 years in private practice, I’ve met a number of women in their 30s, 40s and 50s who have never even had an orgasm. In fact, 10 to 20% of all women have never experienced one.

Issues related to sex are not talked about enough even with a health care provider. Let’s just start by saying, 65 per cent of women are embarrassed to say the word vagina and 45 per cent of women never talk about their vagina with anyone, not even with their doctor.

Some patients say they have pain with sex, have problems with lubrication, don’t have a sex drive or don’t enjoy sex.  My first question is “Are you having problems in your relationship?”, “Do you like you partner?” , “Are you able to have an orgasm?”, “ Do you masturbate?” These open-ended questions tend to bring out sexual dysfunction including the inability to have an orgasm.

There is a great deal of embarrassment and shame when a woman admits she has never experienced an orgasm.

Is the inability to not orgasm normal?

The inability not to have had an orgasm can reflect women’s inability to know they own anatomy and may not be a disorder at all. In a survey of women aged 16-25, half could not find the vagina on a medical diagram. A test group of university- aged women didn’t fare much better with one third being unable to find the clitoris on a diagram. Clearly, if you can’t find it, how are you going to seek enjoyment from it?

Women must first understand what brings them pleasure and in their pursuit of happiness they have to understand where their clitoris is and how to stimulate it. Masturbation is a skill.  It has to be learned, just as walking, running, singing and brushing your teeth.

What is an orgasm disorder and how would you categorise one? 

The inability to have an orgasm falls under the category of Female Sexual Dysfunction of which there are five main problems: low libido or hypoactive sexual desire disorder, painful sex, sexual arousal disorder, an aversion to sex and the inability to orgasm.

Hypoactive sexual disorder, the most common female sexual dysfunction, is characterised by a complete absence of sexual desire. For the 16 million women who suffer from this, the factors involved may vary since sexual desire in women is much more complicated than it is for men. Unlike men, women’s sexual desire, excitement and energy tend to begin in that great organ above the shoulders, rather than the one below the waist. The daily stresses of work, money, children, relationships and diminished energy are common issues contributing to low libido in women. Other causes may be depression, anxiety, lack of privacy, medication side effects, medical conditions such as endometriosis or arthritis, menopausal symptoms or a history of physical or sexual abuse.

You are the person in charge of your vagina and clitoris. First and foremost, get to know your female parts intimately. Understanding your sexual response is a necessary health and wellness skill. Make mastery of that skill a priority.

Complete Article HERE!