Sexuality Happens

Q and I have been watching a lot of both “16 and Pregnant” as well as “Teen Mom” on MTV. It began at her mother’s house with “we want to watch something and it’s late…what’s on?” but has morphed into “if we were this couples social workers, what advice would we give? How could this person make better choices? How could their family and friends be more supportive? And so on. Especially given that now some episodes have featured the teens using adoption and abortion as options, in addition to parenting.

The other day, when we were driving home from our trip, I was tired, and said something in conversation about how I hoped we never accidentally got pregnant, because I’d be nauseous all the time, and in a lot of pain. Q looked at me like I was nuts, and it took me a second to realize why; it wasn’t that I wouldn’t accidentally get pregnant because I’m a sex educator and was lucky enough to get lots of info on safer sex…no, it was because Q doesn’t have sperm that could accidentally impregnate me.

I realized how lucky I am. While STIs are always a risk, and so Q and I get tested every year, and practiced barrier sex until we chose to be fluid bound, I never have to worry about pregnancy. I’m on hormonal birth control to keep my periods in check, but it isn’t at all for sexual or prevention reasons. We never have to worry about condom expiration dates, or whether I’m on antibiotics.

There are a lot of fights to fight being queer, and a lot of struggles and battles. About rights, about being recognized and validate, about family and friends and careers. About language. About gender. About this and that. But one struggle we’re lucky enough not to have is having to worry about the possibly of an accidental pregnancy, and making the choice between abortion, adoption and parenting.

We have talked about kids a lot, and another lucky for me, we’re on the same page. Neither of us wants kids. We could see perhaps fostering in 20+ years, but we have high maintenance cats and both work jobs with crazy hours and not outstanding pay. We don’t have the time, money or energy for kids, and nor do either of us feel the need to populate the planet anymore…and both of us are VERY against carrying a child, so it would be adoption, regardless. I feel lucky that this will always be our decision, that I will never have to worry about having to make that choice, nor will I have to worry about my fertility, looking into IVF, etc. Every cat shelter is always full of perfect kitties waiting for adoption, and right now, we have the best three in the whole world. My family is complete, for now, and I’m so happy and lucky that I’m able to say that.

I’ve never wanted children. Never. I never thought about how I’d dress them, how many I wanted, who I wanted to have them with, whether I’d give birth or adopt, where they should go to college. Never. Now, I did pick up names I really liked, and said “oh, I’d totally name my child this one day” and then quickly went on to name a cat Ava, a beta fish Trisana, a Russian Dwarf Hamster Niamara, a hedgehog Ambrose, etc. Pets and stuffed animals fulfilled my need to name things unique and creative names with easy nicknames.

However, as much as I’ve always know I didn’t want kids, I’ve known I wanted cats. There was 9 months in my life with no cats, between our house burning down in May of 1999 (killing our two kitties), and moving in to the rebuilt house and adopting Phoenix and then Anastasia in spring of 2000. Even when I lived in Germany, my host family had two cats. As soon as I got my own apartment my senior year of undergrad, I adopted Kinsey. Cats to me are my children. I treat my kitties as members of the family, and when they depart, like Athena dying December 2008, my heart breaks for them (and I sat Shiva).

My cats are a part of my family, and when I was freely dating, they were a good measuring tool. If someone didn’t like cats, they were out. Now, if they were ambivelent, all they had to do was meet Kinsey, and usually their mind changed. If they met my cat or cats (depending on when), and the cats didn’t like them? Done. My cats like most people, and so I took them not liking someone as a sign of things to come. It only happened twice, but I found out later on that it was a very good sign to stay away.

And then I met Q. Q had a cat already (Jasper), and was more co-dependent with him than I was with Kinsey. Moreover, when I adopted Kali and had the whole traumatic experience of her in the ER for 3 days, Q let me call, text and rant, even though we were all of just a few months (if that) into dating. Q didn’t mind that the cats were allowed everywhere except the counter and the kitchen table, and embraced both cat hair and Kaili claiming Q as her own. When Q would go back to New York to visit, I’d come take care of Jasper, staying over to watch a movie with him, or reading out loud. When I was gone, Q would text me pictures of Kinsey and Kali missing me.

This sounds silly, yes, but I realized that the perfect kitty parent was a non-negotiable for me. And the other night, as I watched Q carefully scoop a certain amount of dry food into a dish, and then add the right amount of wet food, with a little extra water, and mash it all around to make it as appetizing to them as possible (they’re on a new UTI prevention diet), and then soak a cranberry pill, and gently give it to Jasper and stroke his throat until he swallowed…I realized that Q fit the mold. Q was the perfect kitty daddy (we like to play with gender, obviously) to me, the kitty mommy. Between the two of us, the cats always have someone to lie on, someone to pet them, someone to dangle a toy in front of them. We sit together, making up stories about what each cat is saying when they meow, about how they feel about leopard print, about Kali’s royal throne, about Jasper’s queen-y walk, about Kinsey’s rubber and latex fetish. We curl up in our bed, two of us and three very spoiled cats, and it just feels right.

Q is my kitty daddy, and is a better fit for me and our family of fur kids than I ever could have imagined.

-Essin’ Em

Today marks the 2nd full year that Q and I have been together (it also is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers — I can’t think of anything more appropriate for two sex-positive and social justice oriented people).

For a long time, I thought I was going to be alone forever. I viewed myself as unloveable, as broken, as not worthy of love. I didn’t think anyone would find me “worth” dealing with, putting up with my insecurities, my disabilities, my career, my snarkiness, my messiness, my anthropormorphisizing of my cats.

And then, I met Q. At a strap on class that I was teaching even. Well, this way I knew that for the most part, sex ed wasn’t going to be an issue. Q is incredibly caring about social justice, about equality (or the lack there of), actually cares about politics and truly works towards creating change in this world. On top of that, Q is witty, hilarious, fun to be around, incredibly smart, and laughs at my ridiculous jokes…and Q is more co-dependent with Jasper (the Maine Coon) than I have ever been with my cats. Although I don’t believe in the concepts of perfect matches (because you have to work on making them work), I can’t imagine finding anyone more perfect for me than Q. I wonder sometimes if I even deserve such happiness. Q says I do.

There are few things more wonderful than waking up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, and having loving arms around you, or getting a “hello beautiful” text message in the morning, or an “I love you” sign on the holiday shrubbery, and knowing that the love is actually meant, and isn’t just some trite or cliche message. Few things more reassuring than your partner bringing you ice packs and pain killers when you can’t walk, or calling to see how your neurologist appointment went.

I am not perfect. I am a hard pill to swallow at times. It is hard to love me, and sometimes harder to be with me. I know all of this. And yet, I am lucky enough to have found someone as wonderful and driven and loving as Q, who takes me how I am.

Next October, we’re having our “Queer Celebration of Love” — AKA, the wedding. I’ll have to write about my views on marriage at some point, but the wedding is our celebration for our friends and family, a showing off of our love, a rejoycing in our connection.

Sadly, Q is still in New York for today’s anniversary, but Q’s family is important, and I understand that. Instead, this Saturday I’m making a special dinner for us, and for Christmas, we’re driving to a relaxing resort outside of Vegas to take advantage of their special pricing, and cooked food, and will celebrate there. I love being together, experiencing things together, trying new things together.

So happy anniversary stud muffin. I can’t imagine being happier with anyone else ever, anywhere, any time. Thank you for letting me love you and trust you,

Babycakes.

Tomorrow, December 17th, is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, and I think it is important that as many people as possible know about it, participate, and pass it on. Much of this is taken from the Sex Worker Outreach Project. Let me remind you that sex workers are people. They are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, offspring. They are friends, lovers, scared, excited, in love, loving, caring, hurting, sharing, and much more. I have been a sex worker, and often consider myself one as I work as a sex coach and a sex educator, teaching hands on workshops, and making my living by helping to improve others sex lives. Sex workers are people, like you, and her, and him. You probably know at least one sex worker, whether or not they are out to you. They are escorts and porn stars and phone sex operators and pro-dommes and street workers and sex surrogates and more. And sadly, sex workers have an incredibly high incidence of violence against them. Today, we need to think about what is it we can do to protect these members of OUR communities. Please, stand up and do your part.

-Essin’ Em

Read Stopping the Terror: A Day to End Violence Against Prostitutes by Annie Sprinkle from On The Issues Magazine.

December 17th is International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. This event was created to call attention to hate crimes committed against sex workers all over the globe. Originally thought of by Dr. Annie Sprinkle and started by the Sex Workers Outreach Project USA as a memorial and vigil for the victims of the Green River Killer in Seattle Washington. International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers has empowered workers from over cities around the world to come together and organize against discrimination and remember victims of violence. During the week of December 17th, sex worker rights organizations will be staging actions and vigils to raise awareness about violence that is commonly committed against sex workers. The assault, battery, rape and murder of sex workers must end. Existing laws prevent sex workers from reporting violence. The stigma and discrimination that is perpetuated by the prohibitionist laws has made violence against us acceptable. Please join with sex workers around the world and stand against criminalization and violence committed against prostitutes.

TEN WAYS TO PARTICIPATE IN INTERNATIONAL DAY TO END VIOLENCE AGAINST SEX WORKERS

(EVERYONE IS INVITED)

1. Organize a vigil/memorial/gathering in your town. Simply choose a place and time. Invite people to bring their stories, writings, thoughts, related news items, poems, lists of victims, performances, and memories. Take turns sharing.
2. Organize or attend a candlelight vigil in a public place.
3. Do something at home alone which has personal meaning, such as a memorial bath, or light a candle.
4. Call a friend and discuss the topic.
5. Send a donation to a group that helps sex workers stay safer. Some teach self-defense or host web sites that caution workers about bad Johns. Donate to Sex Worker Outreach Project.
6. Read the Sex Workers Outreach Project’s web site, www.swop-usa.org, Do let others know about any planned Dec. 17 events by listing them on the site. (Although sadly this site is not current and I’m not sure if someone is following through on this.) There is also a wikipedia entry about Dec. 17 which you can read.
7. Spread the word about the Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers and the issues it raises; blog, email, send a press release, forward this text to others.
8. Attend a Dec. 17th Day to End Violence event/action/memorial. Everyone is welcome.
9. Organize a panel discussion about violence towards sex workers. Procure a community space and invite speakers like sex workers, police, and families of victims.
10. Create your own way to participate. People have done celebrations, Xmas caroling, protests at jails, lobbying at City Halls, naked women reading whore writings, performance art, visual art projects, and other creative, fun and moving things.

Ever since we took our trip to Sedona this August, I’ve been interested in trying energy work.

Now, if you know me, you know that while I’ve certainly tried non-Western medicine (accupuncture, reflexology, cranial sacral therapy, etc), I’m not much for what my friends often call “the woo-woo” stuff. I like my toilets to flush, I (while vegetarian) am not gluten free, and I shamefully will never use blood rags or pee clothes. Yes, I’ve made my own clothing, and tried raw food for meals, and like quinoa and loose leaf tea, but I’ve never been associated with the more spiritual side of things.

More so, when I dated F, she made me even less likely to want to experiement in this venue. Whenever we fought (often), she’d pull out crap like “clearly, you can only love with your head, not with your heart” and “I’m out of tune — you’re throwing me out of balance” instead of actually having a conversation about what the problem(s) was/were, and how we could work on improving our relationship.  She told me to stop taking migraine meds and just do Magnesium (that fucked shit up), that I didn’t need pain killers or surgery because clearly Arnica would solve all my knee problems, and that when sick, oil of oregano would fix me (it didn’t — I felt HORRIBLE for 2 weeks). Given all of that, and how she also rationalized doing ‘Shrooms because they were all natural and it was connecting to mother earth, you can see how I might have wanted to gain some distance from this perspective.

However, since Sedona, I’ve decided that it is very closed minded of me not to be willing to try and accept new experiences, and on the way back, Q and I talked about how I’d like to try Reiki to see if it could help with some of my joint pain and/or migraines. Well, what do you know, but the Weekly Plus coupon a week or two later was for an energy balancing with a reiki master (more energy centric than reiki, but still the general theme).

Finally, I was able to schedule my appointment this past Saturday.  I went in, no idea what to expect. The center where this took placed also offers massage, reiki, waxing, electralysis and chiropractic services…so I had no idea what to make of it. My “guide” or “healer” (what is the right terminology here?) was very nice.  However, when we sat down, having just met, and she told me she had made a list of her observations about my energy before having met me, my eyebrows raised.

Now, much of the list was accurate. A few things weren’t. I was trying to keep an open mind, but a) saying stuff like “you have a love-hate relationship in your life — what is that about” can apply to pretty much anyone at any given time. Some things were more specific, like my bad relationship with my mother, or the piece of my heart that is empty due to the loss of my father. I just had a hard time not questioning all of this…and a little voice in the back of my head kept nagging me that all she’d have to do was google my name, and she could have found out pretty much all of this.

That said, we talked about my chakras (root and the top were fine, my sacral was off to the left in the feminine, my solar plexus was depleted, torn and stealing people’s energy, my heart one was open but felt cold, my throat one was torn and hurting and empty, and my third eye chakra had a tight band around it, possibly causing my migraines), and then I hopped on the table, trying to clear my mind and listen to the music while she touched some of my joints and some of my chakras, letting her angels guide her as to where to place the energy.

So here’s the thing. I’m still not sure how I felt about this. She said I took and held the energy well, better than most first timers. I did feel more relaxed, but my overall anxiety hasn’t change, my pain and migraines are still here, and I have a new very sore pain in my upper shoulders, despite the tons of water I drank and the Epsom salt bath I attempted to take (as per her request). I’ve tried to touch my solar plexus when I feel needy and tell myself I’m really ok, and tell Q that I’m ok just letting something go, or moving it until tomorrow.

So did it do anything? Or did it just increase some of my self awareness, as a counseling session might? Did she truly read my energy, or was it what is commonly known as a “cold read” or the result of a google session?

I honestly don’t know any of these answers. She gave me a returning deal of 50% off another session, and I might give it a try. I can’t afford therapy right now, nor do I have the trust in my doctor to work with me on finding an anti-anxiety medication…and I either need to figure out some form of relaxation or release soon, because something has got to give. I am too stressed and too emotional not to make changes in my life.

I’d love to hear about other peoples’ experiences with energy work, to see how they felt, reacted, changed, etc,…or not. I am doing my best to keep a very open mind, and would love to hear from you.

-Essin’ Em

Somehow, I am always grouped as a sex blogger…but as many of you have probably noticed, I honestly don’t blog about sex that much. I mean, yes, I do talk about toys sometimes, or how sex is or isn’t affecting my relationship…but I as of the last year or so, I haven’t written/published as much erotica, I haven’t shared very much of my sex life, haven’t posted any nude pictures. There are many many many reasons for each of these decisions, but regardless, these topics are no longer part of my posting.

So am I still a sex blogger? I mean, I’m writing about queer weddings and relationship drama and letters to people throughout my life. Is sex and sexuality a part of it? Oh yes. But I feel like I’ve become more a life style blogger, perhaps a relationships blogger, I don’t even know.

Ergo, my question to you; what defines a sex blogger? Is it sex toy reviews? Is it erotic stories of past times? Is it deep conversation into gender identify and presentation? How does one know if they are or aren’t part of this whole “sex blogger” community?

And with that said…where do I fit?

-Essin’ Em

We never really celebrated Thanksgiving as a big deal when I was young. We had three relatives living in NM, one in NY, two in FL and five in Israel. When that’s what your entire family looks like, clearly, there is not so much with the get togethers around holidays.  I mean, we went to visit New Mexico every summer, my aunt (NY) and grandfather (FL) came to visit occasionally, and we all went to Florida about every other year to meet up with my grandfather, step-grandmother and aunt. For my father’s death, my uncle flew out from Israel for the funeral, and four of the five Israelis visited for my bat mitzvah and my sister’s bat mitzvah.  And that’s my family.

So for thanksgiving, I think my mother made a turkey one or two years (stuffing baked separtely, given that my sister and I are vegetarians), but for the most part, we partook in the amazingness of hotel buffets.

Oh my god. Hotel buffets do an AMAZING job for Thanksgiving. Huge salad bar, blintzes, make your own pasta options, and the dessert? TO DIE FOR. Even us vegetarians could get stuffed. So to me, Thanksgiving = buffets.

In 2006, it was the first year I couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving due to living in Philly, so I shared it with J.D. Bauchey of Hot Movies for Her. It was interesting…very family centric, and very Jewish, so it felt comforting to me. The next year, I went home with Buttscotch Cripple of the Philly Roller Girls. Again, very family centric, very Jewish. Do we see a theme?

Fall 2008, I was back in Colorado, mostly single (relationship with F was tanking) and unemployed, drowning in medical debt. All I wanted for thanksgiving was to be less broke. Instead, we took a family weekend to a local resort, once against celebrating with a buffet. There is a picture of the three of us, my mother, my sister, and me. All in black on Thanksgiving. Not planned, but we look like the Addams Family…well, I might look more like Elvira.  THIS is what I think of when I think of Family on Thanksgiving…that, and how everytime we dine together as a family, they ask me if I’d like a separate check…as though it is so obvious I don’t belong.

Last year, we had just moved to AZ, and Q and I started the tradition of remembering ThanksTaken — how we invaded a land not our own, and proceeded to kill off the indigenous people’s while we (we being white people — obviously not we we being the Jews from Eastern Europe) “celebrated” having found a new home.  Because honestly, that’s what Thanksgiving is.

This year, it’ll be the two of us, our three cats, and one of Q’s friends, once again remember the massacres that took place to celebrate such a holiday. I’ll make green bean casserole (trying this for the first time ever) and mushroom stew, Q is making garlic mashed potatoes and shitake stuffing, and will buy a pre-cooked mini-bird from the grocery, so we don’t have to cook it in our place.

Now, if it had been important to me and my family growing up, or if perhaps I wasn’t a vegetarian….then maybe this would be different. But it wasn’t, and I am, and so, I get ready to remember what we have taken from others in our quest to celebrate the new life we were “given.”

Wishing you warmth, love and deep thoughts on this holiday,

-Essin’ Em

A couple of weeks ago, Q and I got in our first “big” fight. With her being a social worker, and me having a background in counseling and communication, our fights usually consist of;

“I don’t like XYZ.”

“Don’t you think you’re projecting on me a little bit?”

“Maybe. But even so, I want more ABC in order to feel more fulfilled in this relationship!”

“Ok, what does more ABC look like to you?”

And then we talk a little more and our “fight” is over.

However, a few weeks back, we had a real fight. Over something relatively stupid, but on going, so it kind of built up into more of a blow out. We had a house guest at the time, so there wasn’t any yelling…but it was the first time Q got up in the middle of our intense conversation and left. Now, she was just going out of our bedroom into the living room to sleep on the couch…but that wasn’t what it seemed/felt like to me. I have a HUGE fear of abandonment; my dad died when I was 13, I’ve had friends from over a decade stop talking to me and pretend they don’t know me, and significant others who just peaced out. When someone walks out of the room, who has never done it before, in the middle of a big arguement, it feels to me like they are walking out of my life.

I tried to remain calm. I sat in bed, waiting for her to come back and finish the conversation, like we always do. She didn’t come back. So I left the apartment to walk around the complex. She didn’t come after me. I couldn’t believe it — I had once told her that if I ever left out of hurt or anger, it was incredibly important that she come after me, because I needed that from her to show me she still loved me and cared enough to come after me. She didn’t.

Finally, I headed back to our place. I hung up my keys and coat, and told her to take the bed, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep that night, so I’d take the couch where I could read/watch TV. I then asked her when she wanted me to move out by…because in my mind, her leaving our conversation, walking out of the bedroom, and not coming after me had morphed into her ending the relationship. I then prompty burst into tears…which turned into sobs, and ended up in her arms.

Eventually, I calmed down enough to have conversation with her. We both talked about things that had been bothering us and might have fueled that argument, even if they hadn’t been brought up. We made a better game plan. And eventually, we went to bed together, after midnight, said I love you to each other and went to sleep.

I KNOW fights happen. My best friend is married to a guy that she used to have pretty big fights with bi-monthly, calling me in tears. She seems happy now, and tells me that they have tiffs, but that it makes it a stronger relationship. I KNOW it’s supposed to be normal to have the occasional big fight.

However, we’ve been together almost two years, and it’s the first BIG/REAL fight that we’ve had…which made it seem like an anomaly to me, and scared the wits out of me. Luckily, because we love each other, because we pretty much get each others’ communication styles, and because we both care about making this work, we made it through. And while hopefully the next “big” or “real” fight is months or preferably years off, I’ll be a little less startled and feel a little less abandoned by the next one.

-Essin’ Em

Today, November 20th, is National (and International) Transgender Day of Remembrance. In the last few years (and this video is from last year, so there are more names and faces to be sadly added), over 100 people have been murdered for their gender identity/presentation. This doesn’t even take into account the hundreds and possibly THOUSANDS of people who are assaulted based on their gender, and tens of thousands more who are harassed each and every day.

Please watch this video. Again, it’s a year old, so many people are missing, but if you cannot take nine minutes out of your life to remember those who we have lost due to violence against the transgender community, what does that say? After you watch it, please think for a moment, or two, or ten, what YOU can do to create change in your community, in our community. How can we make it stop? This is completely unacceptable and heartbreaking. No one should have to be scare to leave their home due to their gender, and they should certainly not be scared of being killed. This is flat out wrong, and regardless of your politics, or religion, or moral views, is is NEVER ok to hurt and/or murder someone because of who they are. Ever.

If we don’t stand up and create this change, no one will. Stand up for people who are being harmed and whose voices are being heard. Create change, NOW. And always, always remember those we have lost.

-Essin’ Em

Warning: Wedding post. Will occur approximately monthly!

We’re being very conscious in how we plan this celebration of love. First of all, we’re calling it a wedding, and a celebration of love, but certainly not a marriage. To us, this is a bringing together of friends and family, a celebration of a relationship and love that we have together. It is not a legal transaction, it is NOT a marriage.

Do you know how hard it is to be social justice oriented queers trying to plan a wedding when the entire wedding and marriage industry is based a) on hetero couples and b) on spending outrageous amounts of money to look like some sort of society’s goal of “perfect” for all of one day? It’s just ridiculous.

We’ve finally found a venue — it’s an affordable hotel with a TAG rating (LGBTQ friendly) that basically includes almost everything. My dress is going to be a corset top and a skirt that is being given to me by a lingerie company….and I’ll have to take to a seamstress to make it fit the I want it to. We’re still trying to figure out if Q will be in tails, or nice pants and a vest….but I think that an ascot tie and possibly a top hat are definitely on the list, at least for pictures. My best friend A is making the Chuppah cover, and I’m going to figure out how to Home Depot-ize the rest of it. My moose is making our cake toppers to look just like our three kitties. 

I love that people are helping out by creating, making, donating, etc. This is truly OUR community’s celebration of our love, rather than what some stupid magazine or show tells me what our celebration of love it. Megan helped me find more black metal wrought iron candle holders at thrift stores last week, and Catherine says she may have some more as well.

We’ve decided on mini pumpkins with people’s names on them, where they can put their pumpkin wherever they’re planning on sitting (with color coded ribbons for vegetarian, vegan, gluten free, etc). We both love halloween, and while we want the wedding to be more of a Victorian elegant, we also want to include fall as part of it.

It’s still a good 10+ months away, but I’m enjoying the planning of it, and the flauting of the “proper” way to be wed. I love that we are still staying true to ourselves, and not selling out into the social constructions of a wedding.

I’ll post maybe once a month, so people don’t get sick of it…this isn’t really a wedding blog, nor is it an erotica blog, or a sex blog, or any of that. It’s a me blog, and I like it that way.

-Essin’ Em