Glove love

I just got some sexy sexy sex gloves. They’re black nitrile micro-textured gloves, and dayum they are sexy.

I am actually really surprised – I bought them just because the other vegan option is the thick vinyl gloves that are commonly available, and those are really loose on my hands. I expected the nitrile ones to be soft and floppy,  and much thinner than they are, but they’re actually quite thick, and look nice, come small enough to fit my tiny hands, and due to their textured nature, you can feel really well through them. Ooooooh. If they were longer up my arm I would wear them just because they look sexypants, apart from any sexual health awesomeness.

The workings of the vagina

Now, if you’ve ever tried to shove your fist in a vagina, you may know that this is easier in pretty much any position other than with the person lying on their back. The hips are more closed in that position and there’s bones and things in the way in addition to the regular challenges of getting muscle to relax enough to allow something as large as a fist into a small passageway.

Yet, so many people are still giving birth positioned on their back (and babies tend to be much larger than fists)! I remember my mum telling me some time in my childhood that lying on one’s back worst position to give birth in, and I was sceptical, because every TV birth I had seen ever was in this position. I asked why people would do that if it was more difficult and painful – “So it’s easier for the doctors to get a look”. Which seems to be the only valid reason. Not that doctors seeing what’s going on isn’t sometimes useful, but there are plenty of other ways to do this (I’ve even seen midwives using mirrors), and even if you do need to be in that position, it’s not for the majority of the labour. But that’s western oppression of female bodies for you. The convenience of the doctor outweighs the health of the patient, and even their baby.

Oh yes, I lured you in with fisting and then trapped you in a rant about the medical institution.

So long as it’s only sex

“Primary Relationship” and “Secondary Relationship” have two main definitions. The first is one of hierarchy – the primary relationship is the most important one, and the secondary less important, and so on down your chain of relationships. The second definition is a pragmatic one – A primary relationship is one in which you share finances, a living space, and make big life decisions together (eg. deciding where to move, what job to take, which insurance to buy), a secondary relationship is less enmeshed; you might discuss big life decisions, but ultimately the responsibility lies with the individual partner.

I prefer the second definition because I’m a big hippie who despises hierarchies, and also because I think it reflects the ebb and flow of actual human relationships better. Also, I don’t think I would stay in a relationship where I was being told I was a categorically less important person than another partner. I am perfectly happy having an agreement with someone about what particular activities we engage in together, because that is based on likes and skills, not value judgements.

I was reading this article which advocates a unique social space for paramours. It has some valid points, but addresses having multiple spouses as “a problem”; having a paramour is less celebrated in it’s own right, and more to make sure it is not a threat to the primary relationship. I feel that if your relationship is only secure when you keep such restrictions on how deeply involved your partner can be with other people, there is probably an underlying issue of insecurity you need to address.

Not to say that all your partners relationships have to be the same as your relationship in order to prove you are a Secure Healthy Person – some relationships work well when there is a primary relationship and both parties only ever have sexual non-romantic engagements outside of that – sometimes all you want is some diversity in your sexual activities, and they aren’t things your partner is able or inclined to engage in. Deciding on a relationship agreement that works for both of you is very different than being forbidden to do things out of fear (and often, conceding only because you feel guilty that you’re asking them to do the societally questionable by opening up your relationship anyway).

I am a bit suspicious of primary relationships in the hierarchical sense in general. I most often tend to see them when a couple has recently gone from monogamous to poly, but one or both parties are still a bit uncomfortable with it. I am especially suspicious of any relationships where either party has veto power over the other’s relationships, but that is perhaps worth a whole ‘nother post of it’s own. Sometimes both parties worth through their discomfort (usually stemming from jealousy, or feeling judged by society, in my experience) and everything runs much more smoothly. Sometimes one partner pulls the plug on the whole poly project, and they either break-up, or the other person is forced to suddenly dump all their other partners.

One of the problems of a strict “no romantic attachment” rule, or rules that limit this to some degree, is that romantic attachment is hard to control. Behaviours are easy to control, and discuss, but how do you ensure you don’t fall in love with someone? And what do you do if this happens? Break off all contact with them? Is this an ethical way to conduct relationships?

Mardi Gras

There has been a whole lot of kerfuffle about Sydney Mardi Gras name change and rebranding yesterday. New Mardi Gras has reverted it’s name back to “Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras”, has changed their logo, and is attempting to be more inclusive.

The name change, although not inclusive of the diversity of Mardi Gras, is more relevant than “New Mardi Gras”, the name Mardi Gras had been operating under for almost ten years (after the original Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras nearly collapsed).  Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras has stated that they feel “GLBTIQ” or similar acronyms were not inclusive enough, and excluded those who did not wish to be labelled.

New Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Logo

The logo is an infinity symbol made from two hearts, which is far more poignant, relevant, and aesthetically pleasing, than the previous representation of the Sydney Opera house.

The inclusivity is where the controversy comes in. Mardi Gras stated aim is to encourage those who share their beliefs to participate; whether they be straight people with respect for diversity, or people who do not fall into a neat category under GLBTIQ. This is a noble goal – gender and sexual diversity should be celebrated, and we shouldn’t have to be segregated to do so.

However, practically, this is likely to lead to a commercial, soulless, parade. Already the likes of banks, and flat-pack furniture stores, are guided into the parade for their financial contribution on the flimsy premise of being a pro-LGBTIQ company, whilst smaller groups are turned away for reasons that often amount to ‘being too radical’. Well, flimsy premise no longer required! Gather around as a stream of soulless commercial logos drive past – it’s live advertising in 3D!

There are numerous people outraged about being ‘sold out’ by Mardi Gras in this manner, and whilst for some people I think this is a valid outcry; activists whose entries were turned away as too radical, people who had been marching for years with small community groups, not-for-profits, and NGOs, for others who had turned their backs on Mardi Gras years ago, I don’t understand the sense of betrayal. If your activism goes no further than patronising the most popular inner city queer bars, then the difference in parade probably wont make any difference to you. If you’re involved in a local inner west ground roots organisation that rejected Mardi Gras participation as too commercial, well, then you’re exactly where you were before; your focus is on your local community, you only promote yourselves locally, and this changes nothing.

I have been participating in Mardi Gras for the last 8 years because as a child out in a semi-rural area, I wasn’t exactly surrounded by warm and fuzzy opinions of queerness. I didn’t know anyone who openly identified as anything other than a heterosexual cis-person, and there certainly wasn’t a gay bar in town – there wasn’t even one in the next major city. But on Mardi Gras night I got to sit in front of the television, despite my homophobic and transphobic father, and watch real live gay people out in the streets. Existing! Openly! Dancing around and being happy, and existing. This is what I worry we we lose. We will lose that kid in the country who knows their the opinions around them are wrong, that the way people are living around them isn’t the only way, but doesn’t think this will ever be fixed, or that there’s any place where things are different.

There are a number of ways a commercial non-queer focussed parade can be combated:

• An active protest at the parade, which will work if there are sufficient numbers (difficult, to say the least), but will lead to arrests.
• Actively lobbying New Mardi Gras to adhere to clearer, inclusive, non-capital driven guidelines. Volunteering to help make these happen, if necessary.
• Flooding the parade with the type of entries you would like to see. Joining your local organisation, painting some signs, or printing some t-shirts – getting the messages out there you think need to be heard.
• Organising an alternative event embodying the radical attitude of the original Mardi Gras parade.

The Nudist Beach

I was fortunate enough to be able to get the the nudist beach this week. The one I tend to go to is more of a bay than a beach, really; a little bit of sand, some grass, lots of trees and pretty rocks, no waves. It’s really lovely and peaceful.

Although the physical comfort of being naked is appealing, this is not why I’m drawn to the beach; I go to the nudist beach because the of the general non-threatening atmosphere. At regular beaches I often feel like I’m being watched, and judged, particularly on my appearance. I don’t feel this at the nudist beach, I find everyone to be really respectful of other people’s space, and there seems a general acceptance (and perhaps even celebration!) of the diversity of human bodies. I’ve never caught anyone staring the way I expect at regular beaches. Looking, sure, but only so much as you would if someone was walking past you on the street fully clothed. I find it incredibly freeing to be naked in public and have no one care, one way or the other. No one sneering, or ogling, or fainting, just treating you as an ordinary normal boring person doing ordinary normal boring person things.

There are little boats that come by and sell coffee and snacks to the bathers every now and then, with clothed staff completely unfazed by the nudity of their customers. Occasionally boats of fully dressed people will sail by, I presume to ogle. I suspect most of them are probably quite disappointed. If they’re expecting the beach to be filled with svelte but buxom blonde 20-somethings, they’re way off the mark – it’s mostly populated by chubby middle-aged men.

When nudist beaches don’t have reputations as siren-filled anomalies, they tend to be regarded as seedy. I really don’t understand how 30cm of material makes such a moral difference. Tiny bikini: respectable citizen, Naked: sexual deviant. No one is up to any sexual activities on the beach, just regular beach activities. Swimming, lying in the sun, eating picnic food etc. It’s a family friendly location; children come along, adolescents tend to wear swimmers (fair enough, I was horrified at the thought of being naked at that age, and adults usually dismissed the depth of my discomfort). I’ve only seen one teenager there that I recall, and it seemed like she and her family were quite familiar with nudist areas. How nice to be surrounded by a realistic spectrum of bodies at that age, and not relying solely on the images from mainstream media!

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here

Last night my cunt broke my Medisil Magic Touch Massager (which is the Australian equivalent of the Hitachi Magic Wand, adjusted for the Australian 240V system, and also to have a name that makes it sound like a vaginal ointment). It was tied to me in a rope harness at the time, and I guess I got too enthusiastic? The wand is already quite a loud vibrator, and suddenly started making some horrible buzzing/grinding noise, and continues to do so whenever it’s switched on. Conveniently the person I was playing with at the time is electrical engineer, and they have taken it off to assess the damage.

It’s a new vibrator, I’ve only used it a handful of times! This is not the first time my cunt has broken something. I have broken other smaller vibrators, damaged someone’s wrist, and done some mild damage to a few penises. You’d think BDSM play is where injuries may occur, but no, just regularly tangling with my voracious cunt of doom is apparently a health hazard. Perhaps I need a warning tattooed on my lower stomach; “Management waives responsibility for any loss or injury that may occur.”

Jealousy

There are so many resources for managing jealousy in polyamorous relationships, and it’s always the big question asked in media articles – “How do you deal with the jealousy!?”

Personally, jealously is one of the easier issues to navigate in polyamorous relationships. Some more pressing questions tend to be: “How can we organise time around work, hobbies, and multiple partners with varying schedules?”, “How can we all comfortably sleep together when it’s 38°C”?, “Why aren’t bus seats built for three people?” and ”Whose shirt is this?”

This is not because I am some  above-petty-desires, emotionally stable über being, but probably because there is a greater expectation of jealousy, and thus a lot of communication to avoid problems. I often get more jealous in my friendships, because if I’m feeling a bit neglected by my partner, we can have a conversation about it, but telling a friend “Hey, I’m feeling neglected, you’re spending a lot of time with Sam, and not a lot of time with me.” is far less socially acceptable (luckily I do have a number of super awesome friends who I can have these discussions with, but this is not the norm).

I actually experienced far more jealousy in monogamous relationships, because they always seemed far less secure; at any moment, someone more awesome than me could come along and my partner could dump me to upgrade! In polyamorous relationships, I generally expect that if a relationship is going to end, or change in some significant way, it’s going to be because of the nature of the relationship between me and my partner, not due to some external party. If someone more awesome than me in some respect comes along, they are not a threat, we can co-exist in a relationship with our partner.