Sexuality Happens

Hey you.

Yes, YOU.

You know a sexual assault survivor…in fact, you probably know a whole bunch.

It doesn’t matter what gender you are, what your orientation is, how many friends you have, where you live, or even whether you have assault/harassesed/raped someone in the past, or whether you spent time working against sexual assault.

You still know people who have been assaulted. Don’t be an ostrich and pretend that you don’t. They could be friends, family, co-workers, lovers, partners, former partners, teachers, students, dog-walkers, etc. You know them.

And if you’re a good person, which I assume you are (or at least, want to be), you’ll want to support them in some way.  There are so many ways to help people who are victims/survivors (I prefer survior, not all people do), so why not give it a go.  Here are some ideas:

*Believe them. So often, people talk about false reports, how people make stuff up, how unless a penis went in a vagina while she struggled and shouted no that it’s not assault. All of that is bullshit. If someone shares a little or a lot of their story with you, BELIEVE THEM.

*Be there.  Be there whether they decide to tell you or not, whether they tell you just one sentence or the whole story comes pouring out.  Just be there.

*Ask what you can do to help. Some people need a shoulder, others need a place to crash, some just want you to hold them while others don’t want you to touch them. ALWAYS ask, whether this happened yesterday or ten years ago.

*Do NOT try to tell a survivor what they “should” or “have to” do.  They want to regain strength and control.  Be there to help, but let them make their own decisions, like who to tell (or n0t), what charges to file (or to not do so), etc. There is not right way to be a survivor.

*Do NOT add more violence to the situation, by saying things like “I’m going to kill that fucking asshole” or “that bitch is gonna die.” Violence is scary period. It is MUCH scarier after you’ve been intimately affected by it.

*For those who are dealing with legal or medical rammifications, help them.  Whether that is driving them to a court house, helping them film out school/police reports, googling info on local laws, statutes of limitations, finding them a SANE (sexual asssault nurse examiner) to help them find evidence, etc. It doesn’t have to be an all day event; any little thing is a show of support.

*Donate money, time or both to your local or national sexual assault organizations, whether they shelter surviors, run hotlines, train college campuses on how to change the climate towards sexual assault prevention, etc.

*Help compile lists of good therapists; get recommendations from friends, online, from sexual assault survivor support sites.  Make copies, or put them online.  If you’re in a more niche community (queer, kink, etc), help find kink aware therapists, and queer friendly professionals.

*Make lists of local sexual assault support organizations.  Have these available or hand or email to survivors.

*Speak out. On facebook, change your status to say something against sexual assault or that you support survivors. On twitter, tweet about it. Put up a blog post, or relink to posts like this on tumbler. In the real world, stand up and speak. Be part of Take Back the Night. When someone touches someone inappropriately, or says something that is harassement, speak out against it.  There IS strength in numbers.

It is only if we all band together that we can make change. Don’t be part of the problem, but worse, don’t be a bystander.  Bystanders are how people get killed because no one spoke up, or how sexual harassment becomes an acceptable norm, because no one spoke up. Don’t be that person.  Do whatever you can, however little or however big, to support sexual assault survivors, and to work together to eliminate and eradicate sexual assault.

-Essin’ Em

I post this story in April every year. Why? April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I am making people aware. My assault doesn’t fall into what most people think of when they think of rape or sexual assault, but what happened in January 2003 has impacted so many areas of my life. I share it so people know that assault is multi faceted, and it affects everyone. And that you can get through it. And that everyone’s story is different, but that far too many are so similar.

I will write more about support survivors and such this month, but for now, here is my story.  Same as ever, I just get a little bit stronger each and every time I tell it and realize that I am stronger than he could ever be.  Last year, he moved back into Denver, to a neighborhood right by mine. How do I know this? Because he found me on facebook, and messaged me to tell me he was living near me.  Asking me if I wanted to hook up.  I called Q in tears, terrified I’d run into him at the park or the grocery.  He never realized how much he fucked me up.

But I won. I decided not to be afraid to go out, not to change my schedule.  Because I am stronger than him. And always will be.

This is my story.

This isn’t the story of someone walking home in the dark and getting jumped by a stranger from the bushes. Most sexual assaults don’t happen that way.

Nor is it a story of me going out and drinking/hooking up with someone who had been drinking and it just going too far. Some sexual assaults happen that way.

It also isn’t a story of my partner not listening to me, and doing something we had done before even though I said no this time. Sexual assaults happen this way a lot more than people realize.

No. This is the story of how friendship of sorts can lead sexual coercion and how that can lead to sexual assault. And how that can lead to survivor blaming.

I was 17, and it was the second semester of my first year in college. I had this friendship/crush thing with a guy from a different hall on the same floor all year, and it had been completely unfruitful. Occasionally we’d listen to the Smashing Pumpkins together (he let me burn all his CDs), occasionally we’d sit together in the dining hall, occasionally, I’d run into him at parties. He was always sarcastic, but also quite witty…and I liked him.

Winter break came, and I went home to Denver. One night, quite late (2am or so), he IMed me, which wasn’t abnormal. However, what *was* odd was how he was acting. He was being flirty and coming onto me….and of course, since I liked him at the time, I was the same way back. The conversation ended, and that was that.

Then I came back to school in January for the half-block (two weeks of a short and fun class before regular classes started again. He was there too…I saw him around occasionally, but there was nothing different about our interactions. Lots of sarcasm and wit.

One night, I was on my computer, and he IMed me again. He was being flirty again, and told me to come over to his room…he had a book he thought I would like. I walked over to his room, knocked on his door, and he told me to come in…I did, and he was sitting at his computer, naked as a jaybird. I turned around and high tailed it out of there, running back to my room. I was so confused; what the hell was that supposed to mean?

He was online again, telling me to come back, and that he was sorry, and clothed again. Stupidly, I decided to go back. It was half block, and no one was there, and he was being flirtatious, and I had liked him for months. So I went back.

This time, he had his clothes on. I think he may have been a bit tipsy; I don’t know. We sat and chatted for a little bit, and then we wound up sitting and talking in in his bed. We wound up making out, and I was shocked. I didn’t know what was going on…up until this point, I had kissed two or three people, and dated one guy; the farthest we’d gone was some under the shirt gropage and his mouth on my nipples. And here I was, making out in a bed with a guy who I wasn’t dating or even really close with, and now he had his hands under my shirt.

I told him I felt uncomfortable, and he slowed down for a second, but then moments later, both hands were under my shirt, grabbing my nipples and breasts. I froze for a bit, stopped kissing him, but he didn’t notice, and he dragged my shirt over my head. I was in my PJs, so just a black v-neck shirt and sweatpants. I remember he remarked something about “no bra, eh? What does that say about you?” I was still frozen, not there with my body. It was so odd…I couldn’t move to leave, because, as silly as this may sound, I was afraid of losing his “friendship” and didn’t want to be thought of as prude.

Then he lay back, and took off his shirt, and put my hand at the waist band of his sweatpants. He didn’t have anything on underneath. I told him him I wasn’t ok with this, but he said it was no big deal and I’d be fine. I didn’t know what to do; I had liked him for months and months, and here was my chance…but I was hating myself every second for not bolting. I felt nauseous and queasy, and still, I stayed.

He took his pants off, and put my hand on his penis. It was the first time I’d ever seen an erect one in my life. I couldn’t believe it was soft and hard at the same time, and for a second, I forgot about being scared. It was so interesting. And big. Later on, I estimated it was about 9 inches…which is fairly large, especially for the first one I’d seen. I even asked him if that was average, and told him it was very intimidating and I was a bit terrified. He told me it was bigger than average, and I remember letting out a breath of air and saying “thank goodness.” He laughed it me, and then put his hand over mine, and started stroking. I pulled my hand away, telling him I wasn’t ready for this. He said that a hand job was no big deal, and pulled my hand back. He started stroking again.

I was ok with kissing. I wanted to go back to just kissing. Or bolt out of there, but I didn’t want him and the world to think I wasn’t a “normal” college student, wanting to have sex here and there and every where. He told me he was a virgin, but that this wasn’t anything, and it was time I made a better use of my lips than talking and kissing. He put his hand on the back of my head, and guided it to the head of his penis.

Yes, I could have bitten him. Yes, I could have pushed him off and ran. But I was 17 and scared, and thought that maybe this was how college relationships went. I thought that if I did this, maybe he’d like me, maybe we could date, maybe it would be more than just sarcasm and Smashing Pumpkins. So I stayed.

I started to give my first blow job, not knowing a thing about what I was doing. He kept his hands on the back of my head, pushing me down, telling me what to do. I shook him off a few times, telling him I wasn’t ok with this, that I felt uncomfortable. I had tears in my eyes, and a giant lump in my throat. He told me that since I has started all this, I had to finish, that I couldn’t just leave. I didn’t know what to do, so I figured if I just kept going, he’d finish, and I could leave.

I kept going, his hands pressing on the back of my head…it seemed like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes. He told me he didn’t think he would be able to come, and that it was good enough, and I should go. To have a good night, that he’d take care of himself.

I left, went back to my own room (no roommate yet), and cried. And cried. And cried. I felt violated, I felt as though I’d never be ok again. I curled up into a ball, an cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I started my next class; Human Sexual Behavior. Every mention of penis, oral sex, sex, etc, grated on my nerves. I kept thinking back to the night before, reliving every second, thinking about what I should have done right, how it was my fault, how I should have left, how I should have run, how I should have hit him, how this, how that.

Later, in the afternoon, I called one of my best friends in tears. We talked for a while. Then I sat and spoke with my other best friend. We talked a while too. It helped, but I was desolate for a few weeks. I’d see him in the cafeteria, I’d see him walking in the halls to class, I’d see him out at parties, and worst of all, I’d see him in my dorm. Everytime I saw him, the guilt would start up again; it was my fault I felt this way, if only this, if only that.

It took me months to really get back to my normal life. I hooked up with a prospie (prospective student), and he helped. He didn’t want anything from me; he just wanted to make out, and go down on me (in a study lounge to boot!). Then I had my first college boyfriend, and we took it a bit slower.

Since then, I’ve always gotten nervous going down on people; regardless of their anatomy. While I’m ok with a bit of a neck massage, or hands playing with my hair, I totally freeze if there is any pushing on the back of my head. I try to tell my partners about this first, to make things a bit less complicated…I don’t want to flip out during the middle of sex.

I didn’t share my story at Take Back the Night that year. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t even ready to march or to go to open mic night. My sophomore year, I went to Bitch and Animal who played, and then I went to the open mic, and shared my story with everyone for the first time. By then, I was part of the on-campus sexual assault hotline, and sexual assault prevention group. They were the only ones who had heard my story at our retreat…them, and my two best friends. Suddenly, over 100 people knew. Some of his friends were there…they just didn’t know I was talking about him. I was in Germany for TBtN my junior year, but senior year, I was ready to go all out. I was on the planning committee, I made a t-shirt for the clothesline project, I heard Alix Olson perform, I went on the march, I handed out candles, and I spoke up again at the open mic. It had taken me much time to heal, and even more to move on, but then I realized, that it is only when survivors speak out, that people realize what is happening.

My ex from my senior year of college, when I told him my story, told me that it wasn’t *really* sexual assault, but just an unfortunate misunderstanding. This was the same guy who told me rape is only from strangers, and domestic violence is only physical, never mental or emotional. Clearly, I cut him out of my life pretty fucking quickly. It was then a question I ask potential partners; what are your views on sexual violence and preventing it?

Some people I’ve talked to blame me; it was my fault for not leaving, that it’s not assault because he didn’t hold me to the bed and fuck me. I tell them I felt that way for the first few months, until I realized I had said no, and told him I wasn’t ok, and I wasn’t ready, and to stop…and he laughed, told me I was too innocent, and to get over it and just do it. He told me I couldn’t stop. He had his hands on my head. He was in frat, and could have told the campus about me. He was holding our supposed “friendship” over my head (literally and figuratively) until I blew him. HE made me do it, HE made me feel like crap for a long time, HE fucked up how I act in sexual situations, and HE is responsible. I am a survivor, and I should not be filled with guilt.

Sexual assault doesn’t have a pecking order. My experience isn’t any less that someone who was forced to have intercourse physically against his or her will, and it’s not any more than someone who has their partner do something that they don’t want to do, or someone who has to hear sexual comments every day at work. We’re all in the same boat. It’s a different experience for everyone; I do not claim to know anyone else’s hurt, their anger, their pain. But I do know that they feel it, and that everytime someone expresses disbelief (“but he’s your husband” “but she’s married!” “but I know him, he’d never do that” “but you were drunk and slutty and asking for it”), it rips yet another hole on the inside of that person.

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Share your story; make your voice heard, and support your friends and family. The best thing you can do for a survivor is believe them and listen to their story. Sexual assault can happen to anyone, and in a variety of ways. Don’t make assumptions about anyone, or their history. And if your partner is a survivor, please, tell them it’s ok to go slow, to talk about things, to not do certain things. Let them know you’re there for them, and that you will do everything possible to make them feel safe.

No one can ever erase our pasts; they are there to stay, whether we ignore them, embrace them, or feel guilt over them. However, we CAN change our future. Spread the word about prevention. Learn your local laws. Volunteer for local hotlines and shelters. Donate to RAINN. Listen. Talk to your friends; let them know what assault is, and how to not be a perpetrator or survivor. Support people. Speak out.

This experience changed my life…and while I would never want to relive it, it certainly change the direction of my life for the better. I don’t know if I would have spent 3 years running the sexual assault response hotline, I don’t know if I would have decided to go to grad school for Human Sexuality Education, I don’t know if I would have been able to speak up and speak out about sex, both in the real world, and on my blog. Things change us, but they do not break us. We will survive, and we will persevere.

To all the survivors; my thoughts are with you.

-Essin’ Em

Q is genderqueer. For the most part, she identifies as a butch dyke.  For the most part, she uses feminine pronouns. When we’re in public, and there are no gender neutral bathrooms, she chooses to use the women’s bathroom, if she really really really has to go and there are no other options.  So yes, she is a “woman” by many cultural standards.

But she isn’t one. She’s genderqueer.  Everyone morning, I watch her put on two sports bras (or the new Frog bra/binder I got her) to try and squish down her chest, and every night I watch as she takes them off, angry red lines around her ribcage the only evidence of how hard she tries to hide what she feels doesn’t fit her gender.

There are times where it takes us an hour or two to get ready to go out, not because we have to look perfect, but because that day, her hips seem to show too much in outfits, or her chest isn’t flat enough for the shirts she wants to wear. I look at her and tell her how handsome she is, how much she looks like a frat boy (minus the popped collar), but it seems as though nothing I say can convince her.

Sometimes, there are mini (or maxi) gender melt downs.  Something usually triggers it; something someone said to her (like calling us ladies), something I said that I didn’t realize. Or maybe it’s looking in the mirror, or not having clothes fit the way she wants.  She’s start crying, and she’s inconsolable. I understand why…but I WANT to fix it, and feel completely powerless and inept that I can’t.  It’s similar to when I have disability melt downs; there’s nothing anyone can say to make it better; it’s both an internal issue and a social contruction, and nothing can just make you feel better or make it go away.  So I lie there with her, and I hold her.

It’s hard. I wish there was an answer. When I was in Denver, she called me in tears; someone, a high school student on campus for some conference, had called her out in the women’s bathroom, asking her what she was doing in there.  Half of me wanted to tell her it was going to be ok, tell her to fuck ‘em, tell her that I loved her (which I did), but the other half wanted to say CONGRATS! You’re getting viewed the way you want to be.  You’re making people think outside the binary.  But I didn’t. Why? Because that doesn’t make it any easier given that she’s going to have to go to the women’s restroom at work every day. She’s the only genderqueer appearing staff member in her building (and one of very few on campus). She’s very alone.

While I have issues with Femme Invisibility, I know my frustration with that doesn’t even hold a candle to this. I just can’t imagine how she feels. I wish I could hold her and fix it and make it better. I wish it was “just” an issue of money; I’d say up, and get her top surgery, and it would all be better.

But this runs so deep. It is entrenched in many layers of herself, and in many aspects of society.

So what so I do? How can I be there? What does support look like? I’ve aksed her…sometimes she answers, and sometimes she tells me that she doesn’t even know.

I don’t know what I’m asking here. Tips? Ideas? Empathy?

-Essin’ Em

I want trying to talk to Q the other day about one of my two best friends.

See, I have two BFFs, if you will.  One, E, I met in high school when I chose her out of a pile of applications to be my costuming assistant for Charlie’s Aunt (in odd news, the guy who played Charlie’s Aunt in this play is the guy I made out with New Year’s Eve 2009. I know, right?). She lives in Denver, is getting married this summer (hence why I was trying on bridesmaid dresses) and while we aren’t much alike (she teaches yoga, likes dogs when I like cats, and enjoys florals and pastels), she’s been an amazing rock in my life. The other, A, lives in Seattle, and I was bemoaning having not heard from her in a while. We met the first day of orientation in college, at auditions for a show we both wound up in.  We’re a lot more similar than E and I; she’s also very nerdy, kinky, a writer (better than I am), social justice-y, etc.  However, she lives far away, and we’ve been having issues with touching base as of late. I miss her.

Regardless, I was talking to Q about A, and how I missed her, and wished we could be back at our “best friend” level we’ve maintained for so many years. She was having trouble understanding why I was upset at having not gotten to talk to her much lately (read: several weeks, where as E and I talk on the phone at least once a week, and text/facebook much more), so I asked her how often she talked to her best friend, who I assumed to be one of our mutual friends in Denver that I met at the same time I met her.

But it wasn’t.  She met me with a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“You know, how often do you talk to ___ or ____?”

She looked at me again. “But you’re my best friend. They’re not. I talk to you everyday.”

I hadn’t ever thought about it that way. I mean, I tell her everything, we share so many things together (from the good to the bad, funny to serious). But I mean, she’s my partner. And that’s different than a best friend, right?

So I thought on it.  I mean, what is a best friend?  Someone you can share parts of yourself with that you might not be able to share with anyone else?  Someone to support you when you have successes, and someone to pick you up when you fall? Someone with whom you can laugh at silly things, and discuss serious subjects with? Someone who will actually tell you when something DOESN’T look good on, and when you have spinach stuck in your teeth?

Q is all of these thing to me, and more. She accepts me completely, whether that’s being in the adult industry/sex education, or prancing around the house, naked but for my leopard print snuggie. She sends me links to things that will make me smile, and to things that will make me thing. She cooks for me. She fights for me when I need help. She validates me. These are all things I expect from (or have expected from) E and A…so how is Q any different?

I’m not sure. Can your partner be your best friend? If so, can you still have other best friends? And if they can’t be your best friend, then what are they?  What IS a best friend, and how do YOU define it?

I’m leaving this open ended, as I’d love to hear thoughts from others.

-Essin’ Em

Nothing is perfect, no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes people have asked me via email, twitter, comments and in person, how Q and I have this perfectly perfect relationship.

The answer is that it ISN’T perfect. But we communicate about the imperfections, and we move on.

There are nights when we’re falling asleep, and I wind up crying because she didn’t tell me she loved me before she passed out. It’s a weird issue I have from my dad dying when i was 13, and she’s usually REALLY good about it. But if I’m in vulnerable place already, and she’s tired and forgets, it might set me off.  So she hugs me and she holds me (after she asks if I’m crying and I valiantly try to shake my head and she tells me not to lie to her and I tell her I could never lie to her really), and we talk about what it was that set me off.

Or one of us brings up something about gender, and she cries, and I think I said something wrong, and it was really just the conversation about gender that set her off, and we talk about it, and hold each other, and discuss it and she lets it out, and we cuddle.

When we came back from New York, we had the worst fight we’d ever had.  Over the cat litter. Why? Neither of us had slept in two days, we hadn’t had any time alone as just us in five days, we’d been traveling all day, and were stressed. So I got frustrated that she was sleeping and Jasper was trying to pee outside the litter box because it was a mess and she’d forgotten to tell me we were out of litter and she got upset that I was frustrated, and kaBOOM. I left sobbing, driving to three groceries at midnight (all closed) trying to get cat litter.  Then I came home, and we crawled into bed, holding each other, telling each other how much we loved each other, and how sorry we were. The next day we talked about the fight, how it came to be, I bought cat litter, and she changed the litter boxes. Then we fucked. And we talked some more.

We talk about everything. Even if it seems little, menial or unimportant. I tell her when something she’s said doesn’t sit right with me. She tells me if I get over plan-y (as I am often). Little things, yes, but we talk about it before it becomes something big. We tell each other we love each other all the time. We set aside talking time. We have date night. We never ever go to bed angry, or at the very least without discussing it.

And that is why, even though our relationship is not perfect, even though each of us has a plethora of flaws and issues and nit-picking, we are able to maintain this wonderful relationship with one another, without driving each other crazy.

People ask what’s wrong with people today, why relationships don’t last. My thoughts? Turn off the TV. Shut the computer. Put your cell phone on stun. Talk to your partner. Not just about their day, but about them. How are they feeling? Are they happy/sad/mad/upset/worried/frustrated/satisfied/etc? What else do they need? What else do they want? If you can’t communicate with your partner (and they with you, and you each with yourselves), how can any relationship work?

-Essin’ Em

It’s Thursday. Usually, I do a post for Half Nekkid Thursday. I did mine a day early this week, because this Thursday is Q and my one year anniversary.

I never would have dreamed that I would be with someone for a year. Or would live with them, or would want to be committed long term to them, or would find someone so wonderful, so amazing, so kind, so witty, so smart, so social justice oriented, so caring, so amusing, so…well…perfect.

No one is perfect. This I know. However, Q is perfect for me.  From the fact that we met at a strap-on class I was teaching to her making dinosaur noises to cheer me up to her love for our cats to her amazing grassroot community organizing skills, she is the perfect foil for me.  I met her when I was still broken to pieces over Athena’s death, and right when F broke up with me.  I have come so far in that year, and she is a big part of my growth, and even still being functional.

I cannot tell her enough how much and how deeply I love her. So handsome, so intelligent, so much fucking fun.

Happy anniversary baby – I’m glad you’re such an amazing and important part of my life. Even if I breathe dragon fire on you sometimes to BBQ you.

Love,

Me

I did this first in 2007 and had great success.  I got some cool sci-fi and fantasys books from Candy Poses, a beautiful chain maile necklace from Lady Brett Ashley, a fan-freaking-tabulous day in New York City with Audacia Ray (and a stop to see Jamye Waxman!), and a fun trip to see Sweeney Todd on Christmas with my Jewish Queer sister from another mister, Butterscotch Cripple.  I did it last year, and while I go fewer things (including beautiful satin sheets from Curvaceous Dee), I was able to grant a lot of people’s wishes, so it was also rocking. I’m going to do it against this year, because it worked so well for me (don’t worry – I sent people things too!).  So please, read it over, and if you see anything you can help me with, I’d really appreciate it.  Also, please repost it on your blogs/social networking sites, and leave a link here so I can see what you’re fiening for 

I know I’m posting it kind of early, but my birthday is December 9th (see, holiday and birthday season double up for me), and I celebrate Channukah, so I thought I’d get it done early.

-Essin’ Em

Holiday givng-type meme: I’m all for it. Here’s the cut and paste:

Step One
- Make a post (public, friendslocked, filtered…whatever you’re comfortable with) to your LJ or Myspace or Blog. The important thing is to make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want.
- If you wish for real possible things, make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it’s your address or just an email address at which you can be contacted by potential wish-grantors, real or imaginary.
- Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your post, so that the holiday joy will spread.

Step Two
- Surf around your friends list/blogroll/RSS feeds (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list.
- If you see a wish you can grant, and it’s in your heart to do so, make someone’s wish come true. Sometimes someone’s trash is another’s treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don’t want or a gift certificate you won’t use–or even know where you could get someone’s dream purebred Basset Hound for free–do it.

You needn’t spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn’t to put people out, it’s to provide everyone a chance to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not–it’s your call.

There are no rules with this project, no guarantees, and no strings attached. Just…wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you’ll have the joy of knowing you made someone’s holiday special.

Wishlist If you happen to want to send me any of this gifts, please email me at EssinEm at gmail dot com or comment on here. Thanks in advance

1. Size 6g ear jewelry in metal, glass, stone, or wood.  I don’t have any pretty ones at all, only what I used to stretch to 6g.  Since I’m planning on staying this size, I’d love some nice plugs, or dangly ones as well.

2. A flight to Canada, Seattle, San Francisco, Mexico, Italy, Germany, Portland, etc.  Basically, if you somehow have a ton of extra miles, I’d love love love them.

3. Total knee replacements on both knees. I can’t afford them, I don’t have insurance, I really need them badly. I can’t really even walk up stairs anymore, and have mega trouble getting in and out of my car.  I don’t know how the hell someone could give these to me, but if you could (I need them in both knees), you would make my life. Literally. It would give me back part of my life.

4. A nice cat tree/condo thingy. Something fairly big (our three cats are 10lbs, 14lbs  and 15 lbs…so they don’t fit in the cute kitten ones, and knock down the unstable ones).  I really want to give them something nice, but I can’t afford it.

5. A violet wand (with or without fancy attachments). Yup. That’s self explanatory.

6. A new-er car which is higher off the ground than my 2003 Dodge Stratus. I need to to be at least a 2003, and would be willing to trade Titania (my car) for it.  I just have issues getting in and out of a car so low.  Plus, my A/C isn’t working, which will kill me next spring in AZ.

7. A weekend get away to the mountains, somewhere, sometime. I just need to get away (preferably with Q or a friend) and relax and process and remember to start loving life again.

8. A way to get some of the tattoos I want. The spiral tree of life on my right calf, and the one that combines the feminist symbol and the gender spectrum symbol on my other calf, and a elemental chest piece.

9. A way to go to the AVNs in Jan 2010. I’d need transportation from Phoenix, a hotel and a pass (I could probably afford the tickets, but that’s it). As always, the AVNs are in Vegas in January.

10. Sexy fuck me boots/platform boots/knee high boots/thigh high boots…in a size 10. With big calves, cause I have ballet dancer/figure skater/derby girl calves that pretty much never fit into boots. And most “wide calf boots” that I do find are fucking ugly, and/or have no heels/height. Preferably LOW heels, or a wedge, given my knee issues.

11. A good cupping set (used is fine!).  Prefer glass for fire cupping, but pressure cupping set would be awesome too!

12. Pretty eye make up.  Esp MAC and Urban Decay.  I also need a good, long last bright red lipstick. And Estee Lauder Beyond Paradise perfume.

13. My apartment is a mess, and needs to be organized.  I haven’t even finished unpacking my boxes. I need someone to help me cull things, and straighten up so everything has a place.

14. Any DVD from Pink and White. I want them all. I have only Champion and Crash Pad 4.

15. Leopard print floor mats and rear bench cover for my car.  It’s a Stratus.

16. People to come visit me in Arizona! I miss my friends, and I want my sex blogger friends to come meet me and hang out!

17. Tickets to the symphony. Tickets to an NHL hockey game. Tickets to a play – I miss seeing shows.

18. A genius marketing plan so that I can make money talking about things I care about and am passionate for.  A way to get out my name and get hired more. A magical PR person of amazingness.

19. A red, single breasted wool coat, size XL.

20. Leopard or zebra print ANYTHING

21. Black or red solid color waist cincher (I’m a size 16/18 if that helps)

22. A recumbent bike (stationary OR mobile)

23. A set of two or three matching canes, preferably in Red/Black/White color combos

24. An NJoy Eleven…you know, that amazing steel dildo I used in my scene for GoodDykePorn

25. Gift certificates for food, clothing and/or places like Target.

Also, any thing from my wishlists on the right side bar.  As always :)

Thank you a caboodle in advance. Please don’t forget to post your list too, so I can try and grants some wishes too!

-Essin’ Em

Communication IS key. I say it all the time – to friends, at workshops (whether on relationships or Strap On 101 or sensual sharp things), to readers.  It’s even part of my Sexual Manifesto regarding good sex. And it is important, very much so. Over the last few years, I’ve always tried my best to communicate, whether it’s a one night thing, or a relationship.

But this relationship, this one with Q, is the first relationship where I felt that the communication has actually worked, and been reciprocated. Granted, the great and fun sex I had with M and S in the past year was that; great and fun, and that certainly required good communication to get there. However, as far as relationships go, I have run into some communication fail, on both parts. When F and I were dating, there were times I felt I tried to communicate, and I felt that my wants and needs and thoughts were just being sucked into a black hole. Then there were the times she told me I was too logical, not emotional enough (if you’ve EVER met me, you’d know why that is slightly amusing), and that I didn’t communicate enough.  So then, I stopped communicating, and just told her what she wanted to hear, in a why that she COULD hear it, and COULD understand it.  My fault, yes, but had my communication been better received in the first place, I might not have resorted to just appeasing.

Every now and then, I do tell Q exactly what is is that she wants to hear. It’s a hard habit to break — I’m a people pleaser, and I don’t want people feeling bad, or that they’ve done something wrong. Luckily, this appeasement happens only occasionally. For the most part, I talk to her about things I’m feeling all the time, whether they be positive or negative.  

I feel comfortable enough with her that I’m able to be slightly less compulsive in her presence.  This means I can open my inbox, and only read one or two of my new emails, instead of all of them so that they aren’t bolded out against the rest. It means that I can be more spontaneous and not plan out every little aspect of my life.  Sometimes.

However, when that DOESN’T work, I feel like it’s completely ok to talk to her about it.  The other night, she had planned to come to the roller derby game I was reffing.  Then, she was invited to some friends’ housewarming party, so she planned to go to that. Fine.  That day, as I ran out the door to the rink, she said to call her when I was done so we could hang out.  Therefore, when people invited me to the after party, etc, I told them that I had prior plans. I texted her during half time, and she said she’d just gotten to the party, and I told her when I’d be done, and she responded positively. The trouble came once I was done. I called, and at first, she didn’t pick up. Then I called back, asked her if we were still on for hanging out, and she said not tonight.

While sometimes, I feel comfortable enough with her to be spontaneous and for plans to change, this wasn’t one of those times. It was pouring and freezing, and I just wanted to curl up in my warm car, drive up, and curl up in bed and cry.  To many, this may seem extreme. However, if you’re a planner who is meticulous about being on time and following through, and your plans suddenly change, and you’re already feeling depression coming on, it’s no good, especially when you’ve turned down other plans.

However, instead of just going home, curling up and crying, which was what I had planned, I opted rather to contact her (texting, as she was at a party), and let her know that the next time we hung out, we needed to check in about planning and feeling disappointment. We wound up having a quick text conversation that night, and then a more in-depth phone conversation the next morning about what my expectations had been (and whether they’d been accurate or not), and why I felt the way I did.  She apologized for her part in the mix-up, and I for mine, and we’re back on track, without me feeling used, ignored, or taking it out on her in any kind of passive aggressive stance.

THIS is what communication is about. Sometimes, as in my case, it involves breaking old habits of just saying “ok” or “I’m fine” when I’m really not. In her case, it involves opening up and sharing feelings, which is the antithesis of natural for her. Communication may be key, but that that doesn’t mean it’s easy. However, if you CAN get around whatever blocks are hold you and your partner(s) back, then it can work marvelously. This is my longest, and without a doubt, my healthiest relationship ever. It’s also my happiest to boot.  And what do I blame for that?

Well, communication, of course!

-Essin’ Em

I love Q.

A lot.

More and differently than I’ve ever loved anyone else before.

The other night, we lay in bed.  She’s been having a rough time with not being able to find a job, and is getting depressed and frustrated about it.  I’ve been sick with this stupid tonsilitis for 8 weeks now, and I have all these wonderful (read: horrible) knee and joint problems.  Both of us have our cranky moments, our hurting moments, etc.

And we’re both relying on each other for support.

We lay in bed, and we were talking. And then we were crying and all my emotions just poured out. I told her how much I cared about her, how much she meant to me. We talked about how we suddenly realized that we were a couple.  Still Q and Essin’ Em, but a couple, two people together. She asked me if that was ok with me, if I was sure this was what I wanted.

I thought for a moment. I never imagined caring about anyone like this. I never imagined talking about the future. Never thought I might be willing to move somewhere.  But as she looks for a job and is having to look in other job markets, I realize that I would be ok moving with her, if I could .

It’s scary. I’m terrified. I have a deeply internalized fear of people leaving me once I really care about then. I mean yes, everyone has that fear. But I have had both partners and friends that have really screwed me over once they found out how much I cared about them/they meant to me.  So I’m scared.

But you know, it’s ok. It’s ok to be scared. Especially because I trust her. And because I think she is scared too. And we’ll just have to figure it out together.

-Essin’ Em

I’m so in love with how well my relationship/partnership with Q is working out.  Like, am astounded.

We’ve been fucking since January.  That makes it four or five months that we’ve been fucking/hanging out/sexing/making out/chatting, etc.  And unlike that majority of my past relationships (primary or secondary), I’m not getting nervous.  Well, not in the same way.

With J, after our five month period, I realized that things weren’t working as well.  There wasn’t the same spark, the same connection.  While we had a difference of opinion as to the preferential way to end things (J was of the break things off immediately mode, and I prefer to let things run their natural course and just fizzle out), it was pretty obvious that the relationship as it existed was on its last legs. We were together about six months.

With F, it was the most ridiculously cyclical relationship.  I’d get upset by the way things were going, get ready to explain that it wasn’t working for me, and then she’d do something that made me feel better/wanted/etc, and we’d go back to a mini honeymoon period, and then the drinking, or processing conversations, or being flaked out on would get to me again, and I’d get frustrated and be ready to be done, and then I’d go away for a few days and come back and things would be better and dot dot dot etc. Regardless, I knew that there would definitely be an expiration date on that relationship in the capacity that it existed. We’re still acquaintances, but things are definitely done. And have been for a while. We were together almost five months.

Q is only the third person I’ve had sex with more than twice in the past three years.  Usually, it’s because I have sex with people while traveling, or while they’re visiting me, or before one of us went back to school, or right before one of us moved, or _______.  I was talking to Sasha Sappho about this, about how different it is to have any type of relationship (fuck buddies, secondaries, primaries, etc) when there isn’t a finite end date.  I eventually want to move West, but I know I’m staying in CO for a bit.  I don’t have a date that I’m leaving.  And that makes me nervous, because I tend to find it easier to open up myself to people when there IS an end date, so if they reject me, I can just leave and move on.

Q is not my girlfriend. We are not primaries.  However, she IS my partner, and she’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had. I can be 99% myself around her, which is more than I can say for any of my other partners (mostly my doing to try and change to make them happy, not their fault). She’s worked really hard to communicate better, and I’ve worked on not over thinking and labeling things.  She puts up with my silliness (meowing, breathing fire on her, listening to 80s music while fucking, etc).

The other day, I got a bit teary post-fucking. Why? Because I have hang ups on letting people playing with me when I know I’m not going to come because I feel like I’m being selfish and wasting their time.  I just wanted to get up and leave and not deal with it, but I stayed, and we talked about it.  She assured me she wouldn’t do anything she didn’t enjoy.  While that doesn’t “fix” my hang up, at least we discussed it.

I have sex with other people. She does too. And it works. Poly done right, if you will, although I personally identify more as non-monogamous than poly.  She knows I do phone sex, and porn, and all that, and has no issues (that she’s voiced) with it, but conversely doesn’t objectify me for it.

And the sex? My god, the sex! I cannot be in the same room as her without wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her. We’ve actually not hung out once since we started fucking where there has not been sex. We got close the other day, and just made out for an hour because she had a paper, but then there was fucking. With the exception of K, who I just feel this lust for, and happens to be unattainable in my mind (and a big tease, in a good way), I’ve never felt this much sexual attraction towards anyone.  We sex text occasionally, and suddenly, thoughts of sex with her permeate all other thought processes.  With most people, even with good sex, it started tapering off around month three for me.  I still like being with them, but I’m more cuddly and chatty, and less “please let me put my fingers inside you and then please fuck me until I can’t take it anymore and am calling yellow.” Not with Q. If anything, I am now even MORE sexually driven around her.

I feel good with her. I feel safe. I feel that I can be silly or serious, be nerdy, be happy or sad, and just be me around her.  She’s very validating, and I can be open.  Sometimes I tell her I’m feeling a bit judged (usually a bit in jest, but always with a grain of truth behind it), and we talk about it.  I feel like I can be vulnerable around her, let down my “I’m here to help, and can fix anything, and nothing is wrong with me” wall. It’s nice.

I like that now sometimes she calls me sweetie, or will scratch my back and rub my shoulders occasionally. We now have the intimacy that I’ve always wanted, but have been afraid to ask for, in fear that people will think I’m being to serious/girlfriendy/etc.

I don’t know how long this will last.  I don’t feel an expiration date coming up like I did with J and F.  But who knows?  And it doesn’t matter, because *right now,* in this second, this period in time, it’s working. I appreciate her very much, and am so happy she’s in my life. Who knows what it’ll be like in a month (hopefully well, because I want to go with her to the Canada vs United States women’s rugby game!), or two, or even next week. But right now, I’m so happy, so satisfied, and am so glad I found her.

That’s all.

-Essin’ Em