Tag Archives: Communication

SEXUAL HEALTH:

A fake life is an unhappy life

If you want to be healthy in body, mind and soul, then do not lie about how little pleasure you receive in bed.

By JOACHIM OSUR

Up to 60 per cent of women have faked orgasm at one point or another. In fact, a quarter of married women fake orgasms all the time. That was my overarching message to Jane when she walked into the sexology clinic distressed. She had just been thrown out of her marital home for faking orgasm.

Trouble started when Jane revealed to her husband that she had faked it for two years of their marriage. “I meant well all these two years. I did not want to hurt him by revealing that I was not satisfied,” Jane explained, wiping her tears.

It was 8am and she was the first patient of the day. She had come in in her nightdress – her husband had pushed her out of the house and locked the door after they disagreed the night before. She spent the night on her verandah.

“He throws me out of the house because I tried to find a solution, but he never wants to talk about sex,” she lamented.

COMMON PROBLEM

Faking orgasm is not unique to Jane. Studies have shown that it is the best and most friendly way to end a boring sexual act, performed by women who want to reassure their man that he has not laboured in vain.

We now know that it is not just lack of sexual skills that leads to faking orgasm. The faker could also be having her own problems, either with the sexual function or with the relationship and intimacy. Take it this way: you are responsible for your own pleasure and your lack of it cannot be fully blamed on the man.

Some women dread sex, because of fear of disease or pregnancy, and values that teach them to look at sex negatively. The impact is that the person switches off sex, and orgasm is impossible under such circumstances. “Well, I am not such a big fan of sex anyway. I find it dirty,” Jane interrupted.

Whatever the reason is, it is important to note that faking is totally against the natural purpose of sex. Sex does not just give physical pleasure; there is something divine and supernatural about it. Good sex leads to enhanced self-esteem. The person’s feeling of well-being goes up and there is emotional healing. This improves a person’s happiness and gives them a positive outlook on life.

People who have healthy sex feel loved and radiate love and compassion to others. They have a sense of acceptance, beauty, reverence, grace and a feeling of rejuvenation. They feel powered to face life; in fact, they get a better sense of spiritual connection with their God. Healthy sex is therefore not just good for the body but also for the spirit and the soul.

Faking orgasm denies the faker all this. In itself, it is a symptom that the sex or the relationship is no longer healthy and needs attention. Unhealthy sex destroys emotions and the wellbeing of the people involved, and influences the way the affected people view life and other people. Unhealthy sex is not good for life.

I enrolled Jane and her husband in counselling and coaching on intimacy and sex. John, the husband, grudgingly came to the clinic after my pleas. He believed that it was Jane, not him, with a problem. It however turned out that they both lacked sex skills. Further, they had never freely discussed their sexual feelings and so were sexually illiterate about each other.

It took months of skills training and sexual values clarification before the couple could have healthy sex. Fortunately, they were both dedicated to having the relationship work out.

“This is what we needed to have gone through before our wedding,” Jane said on their last day of counselling. “I feel we have wasted two years of our marriage.”

“Yes, but better late than never. We are finally up to the task!” John replied. The couple burst out in laughter as they waved goodbye and walked out of the consultation room holding hands.

Complete Article HERE!

Patriarchy 101

Consent can’t be implied, Michael Valpy writes. Why is that so hard for men to understand?

By Michael Valpy

I begin each university course I teach by stating that my course syllabus includes a website link to the campus sexual-assault centre and by explaining to my students what sexual consent means in Canadian law.

I find it necessary in an ordinary classroom of young Canadians to caution half the population against the other half, which I’ve thought about as I make my way through The Globe and Mail’s Unfounded series on thousands of sexual assault complaints blocked by disbelieving police officers from ever arriving in court.

What I do in the classroom may as well be labelled Patriarchy 101. Men sexually assault women because they can – because on average, they are larger and stronger – and because a lot of other men with power believe that women either fabricate the assaults or else act in a way that invites the assaults.

In nice Canada, this is still going on after half a century of sex education in public schools, in a country with progressive sexual-assault legislation and jurisprudence (barring the declarations of knees-together judge Robin Camp), in a country with the world’s greatest proportion of the population having formal postsecondary learning and being the ninth-ranked country (out of 155) on the United Nations gender inequality index.

Canadian researchers have written in the New England Journal of Medicine that between 20 per cent and 25 per cent of all postsecondary students are sexually assaulted in a four-year enrolment period with the highest incidence in their first two years when they’re teenagers. Combining the NEJM analysis with Statistics Canada postsecondary enrolment and gender data, that works out to about 160,000 victims annually, 92 per cent of them young women.

Yet, the public conversation usually gets no farther than tweaking administrative rules on reporting protocols, police investigations, prosecutions and the hammers that the courts should bring down on offenders – all important – while leaving the root cause untouched.

Men are always going to sexually assault women, goes the cant.

All of us guys have done it, exerted a bit of, you know, persuasion, resulting in what philosopher Simone Weil described three-quarters of a century ago as “a gendered violation of the soul.”

It is a social norm.

Pierre Bourdieu, the late French anthropologist renowned for his study of the dynamics of power in society, said that, for heterosexual males, “the sexual act is thus represented as an act of domination, an act of possession, a ‘taking’ of woman by man … [and] is the most difficult [behaviour] to uproot.” Men use words for sex that relate to sports victories, military action or strength: to score, to hit on, to nail, to make a conquest of, to “have,” to “get.”

Synonyms for seduce include beguile, betray, deceive, entice, entrap, lure, mislead – not one word in the bunch implying two people intimately enjoying each other with respect.

Most condom purchases are made by women, even though men wear them, and, increasingly, condom manufacturers are directly marketing to women, albeit using more feminine packaging.

In an episode of Downton Abbey, Lady Mary Crawley, having decided to go off on a sexual weekend with Lord Gillingham, asks her maid, Anna Bates, to buy condoms. “Why won’t he take care of it?” Anna asks. Replies Lady Mary: “I don’t think one should rely on a man in that department, do you?” Dr. Mariamne Whatley, a leading U.S. scholar on sexual education, says women have long been expected to take responsibility for men’s sexuality for which there is no defensible rationale beyond the fact that it’s women who get pregnant.

Adolescent girls, she says, are encouraged to “solve” the “problem” of teenage pregnancy. Whistles, sprays, flashlights and alarms are marketed to women. Women are expected to screen out potential rapists among dating partners and to learn some form of self-defense.

Why? Because men allegedly are overcharged on androgen hormones – testosterone – and can’t stop themselves from going “too far.” Which has no biological validity. “As a student in my sexuality class put it,” psychologist Noam Shpancer wrote in a 2014 article in Psychology Today, “‘If your parents walk in on you having sex with your girlfriend, you stop what you’re doing in a second, no matter what.’”

Since the Supreme Court of Canada’s R v Chase decision in 1987, judges have been able to consider a complainant’s subjective experience and look beyond contact with any specific part of the human body to consider whether the victim’s sexual integrity has been violated.

Belief in so-called implied consent has been thoroughly repudiated by Canadian courts – just because a woman does not repeat her initial “No” or push a guy away, it does not mean she is legally consenting. Obviously, there’s a limit to how deeply that has sunk in.

Yet there is a line of feminist scholarly thought that says when subordination of women is replaced by sustained anger from women, men become more receptive to change and the conventional categories of masculinity and femininity dissolve once, as political theorist Joan Cocks puts it, “the masculine self moves away from a rigid stance of sexual command.”

So angry, angry women: That’s what I hope my female students will be. No tolerance. No forgiveness.

Complete Article HERE!

A Man’s Perspective of Male Sexuality Throughout Life

There’s such an unhealthy attitude towards men and sex in society.

by

Through my years growing up I’ve often felt repressed sexually. As I look back and I think about my youth that would be an adequate description of the feelings that were coming to the surface. I mean I had absolutely no idea what I was feeling, only that it was uncomfortable and I didn’t like it. Society had a certain expectancy for me as a man, to act in a certain way. As a young man, I was such a conformist because anything that differed from the general view of normality I was really scared of.

Normality was good for me. Because if I was normal then I could blend into the crowd, do as everyone else was doing and just get on with my life, unseen. Yet there’s always been something about me, that I can’t put my finger on, but it has always rejected normality. And that wasn’t good, because that would separate me from the group and have me in a spotlight. I didn’t like spotlights, because then you were open to scrutiny, and if I was scrutinised then perhaps my mask would slip away and people would see me for who I really was. No-one. A has been, someone with no interest to anyone.

There was always SUCH emphasis on sex. There still is. No-one tells you to just be yourself and have fun exploring one another. My friends, probably out of their own insecurity, would tell me all the ways in which they’ve had their previous partners screaming in pulsating Orgasms. I’d read in the newspapers, and the glossy magazines.

“50 ways to please your woman in bed”

Or

“Is your man not doing it right? Here’s why …”

And let’s not forget those films that I was introduced to by some older kids, where almost every scene ended in the woman having the time of her life, screaming and writhing and bucking in ecstasy. All this pressure, to get it right first time. I always felt really out there. It seemed such a responsibility on me as a man, to get it right, first time. And when the time finally did come, I think it was over and done within milliseconds, first times are never awesome, no matter who tells you that. Or at least it wasn’t for me.

And I look back now and see the unevenness. For instance, people would ask me the naughty things I did to her in bed, and she would get asked was I good in bed? Why doesn’t anyone ask me if my time beneath the sheets with her was enjoyable? A more experienced man will tell you that because some people think a man’s ejaculation is the end result for him, and it is, to an extent, but since then I’ve experienced extremely pleasurable sex, and know the difference between them both, yet, all through my life, less than a handful of friends have asked me that question, and it’s almost always been focused on the shenanigans.

There’s such an unhealthy attitude towards men and sex in society. I had a period of celibacy for about two years, not through choice, but it was the way it turned out. That’s not to say that I didn’t have a few opportunities in between, just that I wasn’t interested in making that bond. For me, sex is personal, and after that I develop feelings. I can’t do no-strings attached. But because I was declining offers I was being viewed as homosexual, and that I wasn’t interested in women. Because all men want sex, right?

What we often forget is that men aren’t cold and brainless sex robots, we have thoughts and feelings too, and regardless of what popular culture will tell you, we’re picky and choosy about who we take to bed with us. But I don’t blame you. I blame the small minority that spoil it for the rest of us men. That small minority you see on TV that literally sleep with hundreds/thousands of women, and those men that leave women husbandless for another partner.

It gives guys like me a bad name. Because we weren’t highly sought after in High School, we were the kids left in the fields plucking forget me nots asking ourselves whether she loved us or not whilst the popular kids ran around doing what we could only dream of. We had to learn to be nice to people to get by. We had to learn to obey the hierarchy to have our social needs met, there was no escaping this, and we learned the cruel harsh reality of bitter rejection from a young age. But in my opinion this was a good thing, and gave us better life skills than a lot of the ‘cool’ kids.

And when the women become bored of tirelessly being let down by someone that thinks the world revolves around them they seek us out, but our sexual habits are often categorised neatly with our predecessors, and that just isn’t the case. Men differ wildly in the sexuality department, as do our tastes. We’re very vain, but then what we describe as a ‘beauty’ can vary insanely too, just like women and their likes for men’s personalities.

For me, I just feel that it’s a small amount of men churning the old stereotype wheel. I think most men, or at least the ones I know of, genuinely want to please and respect their partners. And it would be really nice to just be judged as a person, on my actions, on the day. Not as a ‘man’ because when you categorise people that widely, then you are doing yourself the disservice of getting to know some really awesome people on both sides of the fence.

Be awesome to each other.

Complete Article HERE!

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!

Swinging offers sexual freedom, but you have to play by the rules

Don’t assume ‘the lifestyle’ does not come with a rulebook. Communication is important, and rules can make relationships better.

Fatima Mechtab, Marketing Supervisor and events coordinator at Oasis Aqualounge, poses at the Toronto adult playground.

Toronto’s Oasis Aqualounge, at Carleton and Church Sts., is a pretty open environment. The clothing-optional sex club hosts events each week for people to explore their sexual fantasies. But for such a sexually free venue, there are certainly a lot of rules.

No photos. Certain areas are off limits to men unless accompanied by a woman. No touching of any kind unless given permission. No means no, of course, but the club takes it a step further: only yes means yes. That means there are no sexy times until consent is verbalized, says Fatima Mechtab, the marketing and events co-ordinator at Oasis, which had approximately 16,000 members last year.

The clothing-optional space, where sex is allowed, is by its nature vulnerable, she says. The rules are to make sure everyone feels safe, comfortable and encourage people to talk. “A big problem with consent is people assume it’s something you don’t have to verbalize,” she says. In fact, when it comes to sex, there’s lots that people don’t talk about — but should.

Mechtab, a queer woman who has explored swinging and polyamorous relationships in the past, says these types of strict rules — don’t make assumptions, ask before touching — are common in “the lifestyle,” a term for consensually nonmonogamous couples. And, she says, rules make relationships better.

Couples and the locations they go to play have to create an environment in which all parties feel not only safe, but also heard. These boundaries take away the grey areas, forcing couples to say what they do or don’t want and what they need from sexual encounters. And there’s a lot non-swingers can learn from them about building a healthy (and satisfied) relationship.

A successful swinging relationship is based on constant communication, says Carol Hunt, founder of VenusCouples, a Montreal-based online forum for “sex-positive” exploration of the lifestyle. She and her husband have been swinging for a decade. Before any party or outing, they agree upon a set of boundaries (such as they’ll always be in the same room during sex) and expectations for the evening (be it sex with another person or a night observing others). Afterwards, they always break their experience down: what they liked, what they didn’t like, and what would they like to try in the future?

While it might seem exhausting to always talk about sex, Hunt says it means both parties feel their needs are being heard. If her husband wants to try something new, but she’s not interested, the decision isn’t shut down entirely. Instead, they discuss both points of view and try and find a happy middle ground in which they can explore. No always means no — but that’s only the start of the conversation.

That consensus building trickles out of the bedroom, says Edward Fernandes, a professor of sexuality specializing in swingers, at Barton University in North Carolina. “I’ve had people say, ‘We used to have trouble with our finances — we couldn’t talk about this,’ and once we went into swinging, that (inability to communicate) went away,’” says the Toronto expat. “Now, they’re able to talk about everything.” If you can talk about a taboo topic like sex freely, there’s nothing to stop you from vocalizing issues with the chores, he says.

One 2014 study from the University of Oklahoma, which compared monogamous and consensually nonmonogamous couples, found those in open relationships rated their happiness and health higher than their counterparts. Another study from 2000, found 90 per cent of couples said their marriage became happier after they started swinging.

“People will often avoid talking about things, because they don’t know how (their partner) is going to respond,” says Fernandes. “So we hide. Swinging tends to pull that curtain, and allows them to have direct communications with each other.”

Write your own sexy rule book

  • Hunt suggests couples looking to spice up their bedroom can start small: make it a point to go to a sex shop, for example, to discuss what both parties might enjoy or not. To avoid embarrassment, make it a rule that neither party can wander off on their own: you’re in it together and that can decrease the awkwardness.
  • Watching porn can be a great way to get both parties in the mood. But before hitting play, Hunt suggests setting expectations: you’ll only watch for an hour, and collectively pick one act to try and re-create.
  • If you’re trying something new and don’t enjoy it the first time, Hunt say don’t shut it down right away. Commit to revisiting the act at least once at a later date, and if you still don’t enjoy it, then it’s OK to take it off the table for the future.
  • Great relationships need work, she says. Set aside a couple hours each week just to be with each other. No television, no distractions (and if you want, no clothes).
  • Make a relationship rule to do one sexy thing a day — even if it’s just kissing each other deeply for a few minutes, Hunt says. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that, but it ensures a daily connection with your partner.

Complete Article HERE!