Posting tweet...
“Baby we’re in love, so it’s only right that we make love” said my 17 year old “boyfriend”.
“But why should we have to ‘make love’ if we already have it?” said the 14 year old me.
This was my first “sex talk”.
He kissed me with the deceit of a serpent’s tongue. Entranced by “I love you’s” and misguided by his words, I surrendered my cherished fruit. Need I say more?
Can someone please explain to me the whole birds and the bees thing? I don't get it.
No drug ever got me as high
as being sixteen and having everyone
look at me.
It’s comforting
to have someone know you
and love you for who you are, inside,
but it’s painful to watch yourself become
too familiar, a song you used to worship
until it got so overplayed.
Some days I long to put aside
the cultivated convictions of my tasteful twenties,
paint my face in toxic colour,
waste time on my hair, vote
for consumerism with my dollars
and chase cheap thrills,
instant gratification. Pretend
the world is still as simple
as it was in high school.
A teenage girl modeling her first “grown-up” outfit;
thank God we don’t live in the 1800s.
My sexuality and self of sense has evolved an enormous amount in the past decade, and I cherish that, but sometimes I miss how exciting and carefree things used to be. I’ve been in a happy, long-term relationship for almost nine years now, but I’ve always struggled a little with the idea of committing my body and my sexuality to one person. Sometimes I miss when it was just mine and I could do whatever I wanted with it.
What do you miss about your sexuality or life as it was in high school? What do you appreciate about the way it’s evolved?
Every new year, people make the typical resolutions, to eat less, exercise more, be able to fit into your high school jeans, and find your true love, because, what better time to rely on cupid for that potent arrow, then then new year. You figure that if cupid would just get off his ass, and shoot the guy/girl that you been lusting over, he/she will fall in love you with you and you’ll run off together to buy a house, get a dog and start a family.
Simple right?
But what if the person you love, is shot by cupid and they do fall in love….. with someone else.
all this romantic mumbo jumbo seems to be washed away by a self hate because you know the reason this person is in love; everything you see is “store bought” as my friends like to say.
and it’s not even so much a self hate as it is loathing, because you know that you’ll never look like that.
Nor do I want to.
I have been working on loosing weight, the right way. No diet pills, watching what I eat, and exercising M-F, so that way when the weekend comes around, i can enjoy a 6-pack and not feel the slightest bit bad.
It’s the little things that make me smile.
But, when you prance yourself in front of everyone with a hinted vanity screaming “Look at me! Look at me!” I don’t want to look at you and I’m saddened by the realization that the reason cupid shot his arrow into the other person, is because they belong together.
Vanity meet shallow.
Shallow meet vanity.
Here’s a rowboat, I’m sure you can paddle your way into the depths of love’s ocean.
I’m not biter though. Just sad and disappointed because the person i thought existed was really wearing a mask in front of me the whole time. If you can’t be yourself in front of your friends, you never will be. You simply float your way through life as memory of a time that once was.
So my resolution this year, is to continue focusing on my own self improvement. There is nothing wrong with having life goals and making sure that you achieve them. I just wish cupid wasn’t so damn clever.
–Carla
I told him I loved him today and he spit the seldom used words back into my face. I just can’t win at this love thing. I think maybe if I practiced voodoo or delved deep enough into wicca, I could conjure up a love potion that I could unleash on the world, and no one could say; “I’ve never loved”, someone will have at least loved someone once, even if it is just once, they still loved and someone still loved them.
My heart has many I.O.U’s to redeem.
I’m not sure why I even try, or for that matter care in the first place. It seems to me the more cold hearted and selfish I am, the more people will come to love me. Had I known this, I would have taken bitch face out of the closet for all the world to see many many moons ago. I had her hanging in the back of my closet collecting dust with other trinkets and rarely used items. She happens to hang right next to my never been worn negligee.
Chris Issak knows what I’m talking about
But even as I write this and tears build in my eyes and my body’s heat keeps rising in intensity, I want to grab him and scream with all my might how crazy he makes me feel and how I wish I could just fucking talk him; but he has to be open and honest with me. I’m fighting an imaginary battle from a third person perspective.
“Don’t be upset. He’s being a retard”, my adoptive little sis says to me via text.
I don’t speak Gump but at least Gump knew what love was.
At least he knew that some soldiers die before they ever make it to the battlefield.
—Carla Wright
Infidelity. lol. This photo is so cute to me.
We all know her. She sits around listening to old love songs reminiscent of the good old days when she was in love, back when the feelings between her and him were mutual. Now she has a broken heart, a broken spirit, and worst of all a broken smile. She sits alone and wonders how a small crack in her relationship turned so quickly to a great chasm separating the two. There are many factors that can rip apart a seemingly seamless relationship. Aside from physical attraction and chemistry, the most important factors of a strong relationship are trust, commitment, and communication. These are the pillars and if any one of them somehow become fractured, the entire relationship is liable to collapse. When the bond between two people is shaky, sometimes one partner falls prey to infidelity. People cheat, not considering the detriment they cause to their partners. Americans seem to be straying away from committed relationships as marriage is on the decline and adultery is on the rise. Teens and young adults have “open relationships”, bending the rules so that cheating is fair game. This epidemic can be detrimental to the institution of marriage which may soon become a thing of the past.
This is the intro paragraph to a research paper I wrote about infidelity, marriage, suffering relationships, and opening up to love again after being hurt by infidelity.
lol. she forgot to bust the windows out his car. smh. amateur.
Infidelity hurts. However, only in biology is a broken heart a fatal disease—not in love. Oftentimes when strong romantic ties are broken, at least one person loses a part of herself, thus disabling her to fully trust, care for, or love another person as freely as she did before. Being overly protective of one’s own feelings can turn out to be self-destructive. There are many ways to facilitate the recovery of romantic despondency. This reconstruction is healthy and allows one to fully become immersed in love, a gift of life.
This is another random paragraph from somewhere inside my paper about: when relationships end some people (like myself) become kinda bitter and guard their heart like a prison.
This is where it gets personal.
I’VE BEEN CHEATED ON!
Original camera-phone photography by me. My Homie had a super-dry-ass-condom in his wallet so I molded it into a heart and it stayed. smh. I think I'm gonna patent it and make them Valentine's day treats. It really should say "I Love You...now let's fuck"
Sex Dressed in Love’s Clothing.
I lay here on the pile of blankets. His heartbeat pulsates onto my chest like a loud stereo. I can’t help but bite my bottom lip as my eyes reflexively roll to the back of my head. My legs are uncontrollably shaking and I’ve lost total body control. Yes. The sex is that good. I open my eyes and look up to the sight of his moonlit eyes above his smile. The stars are the only eyes peeking at our every move. We endeavor in a sexual adventure—the tennis courts at 3am. It’s always been a fantasy of ours. The sky is our shelter, the moon is our night light, and the summer breeze is our oscillating fan. I admire the scenery for a moment then finally! A long-awaited euphoric feeling confiscates my body…to say the least. He whispers a convincing “I Love You” in my ear and kisses my lips as he begins to work his hips a little faster. I return these words like a serve at Wimbledon. However, I’m the only one who speaks the truth. Tonight is perfect…to the naked eye. Read more »
A year and three days ago, my beautiful baby girl was born at 4:02am. See, here she is:
Kathyrn's Daughter, 10/10/08
Isn’t she pretty?
OK, let’s be honest, she’s a little busted–she’s MUCH prettier now–but that’s because she had just made a very hard journey through the vaginal canal.
It’s probably a little uncomfortable to hear “vaginal canal” when you’re reading a sex blog, but you know what? Sex can lead to pregnancy, which can lead to childbirth and children. That is the reality of being sexually active. So imma take this opportunity to tell you exactly how my labor went, gory details and all.
Dear Herpes Girl,
I read your post card on this week’s Post Secret (www.postsecret.com), and I just have so many things to say to you. First, honey, WHAT were you thinking not using a condom? Using a condom properly and consistently will prevent pregnancy 97% of the time, and is the only method of contraception that protects against all sexually transmitted infections (STIs), including HIV [1].
I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say that you did use a condom, but that (a) dude didn’t tell you that he had herpes and (b) the outbreak was outside of the condom’s protective area. For that, I’m really sorry. He should have told you that he had herpes. And if he didn’t tell you, you should have ASKED. I know it’s uncomfortable asking someone in the heat of the moment—or anytime, really—if they have or have had any STIs, but it’s going to be a lot less uncomfortable than painful ulcerating lesions [2]. And if the outbreak was outside of the condom’s protective area, well, I don’t think there’s much you can do about that, especially considering that some outbreaks don’t have visible symptoms.
But honey, one of the most disturbing things in your note was that you wished that you’d had a chance to be a “slut” before contracting herpes. What, exactly, is a slut? Is it someone who has had multiple partners? If that’s the case, what about those people who have been in multiple monogamous sexual relationships? Are they sluts?
I’m going to venture to say no, because these are people who are sharing their bodies with a person who treasures it as much as they themselves do (or, I at least hope that’s the case). These are people that are taking measures to protect their minds, hearts, AND bodies. Being in sexual relationships is part of being an adult human being, and how far you allow that to go and with whom is your own business. Responsibility is not slutty.
On the other hand, if you’re talking about people who will sleep with near anyone and everyone without being a monogamous relationship, well, that’s a different story. But that kind of activity still doesn’t deserve a degrading name; it deserves a talking-to and maybe retaking a sex education class. As you’ve by now experienced, unprotected, risky sexual behavior is medically unsafe. It also takes its toll on you emotionally—sexual intercourse releases a hormone called oxytocin that causes you to bond with your sexual partner. If you break that bond, it becomes harder to make the next bond stick, even harder for the one after that, and so on and so forth [3]. And if you’re bed-hopping even just once a week, that gives you 52 INDIVIDUAL chances to contract something. It’s 52 times that you’ve broken that biological bond. It’s dangerous to both your heart and your body, hon. Think about that.
It pains me that in your mind, women who sleep around are automatically labeled as sluts. And yes, I say women because I’m pretty sure that your assessment doesn’t apply to men. Are men who sleep around sluts? In my mind, if we’re going to be name-calling, yes. Men who sleep with tons of women deserve to be called sluts. But does anyone deserve to be called a slut?
“Slut” is a really harmful name. It can completely shred a person’s self-esteem for no good reason. It can cause the recipient of such an insult to begin engaging in risky behavior, when before, he or she was a normal, sexual being.
I urge you to do three things, dear: one, go buy yourself a box of condoms and keep them in your purse and bedside table. I recommend Trojan 2Go for your purse; with their hard case, they’re less likely to get mangled. They can be purchased here: http://www.condom.com/trojan-2-go-ultra-thin-condoms.html. Two, get a prescription for Valtrex; it will help with preventing outbreaks, which will make your life more comfortable and help keep your future partners’ health safe. Three, please fix your attitude concerning having multiple partners. If you do, we’ll have a lot fewer broken women walking around out there.
Safe and Happy Banging,
Kathryn
1. World Health Organization, “Effectiveness of male latex condoms in protecting against pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections,” http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs243/en. Internet. Accessed on 8 October 2009.
2. World Health Organization, “Herpes virus type 2,” http://www.who.int/immunization/topics/herpes_2/en. Internet. Accessed on 8 October 2009.
3. Your Amazing Brain, “The science of love,” http://www.youramazingbrain.org/lovesex/sciencelove.htm. Internet. Accessed 8 October 2009.
Who Am I?
This is a question that was first truly posed to me on a church retreat in 9th grade, and I’ve pretty much been asking myself ever since. How the hell does a fourteen-year-old girl answer that question? For that matter, how does a 27-year-old woman answer that question?
Starting from the beginning, I suppose.
WASPs, WWII
I am a Catholic, a wife to my husband, and a mother to our daughters. I am an American, specifically a Southerner that was transplanted to the Midwest. I am a former military officer and a Berliner by birth. I like to think of myself as a writer, but the more accurate term might be “aspiring writer.” I am a graduate from a Catholic university (oh, the stories I could tell!). And I’m a rape survivor.
Betcha didn’t see that one coming.
All these experiences—the good ones, the bad ones, the terrible ones—have helped shape my views on sex and sexuality. I’m very open-minded in some regards and very conservative in others. I’m a firm believer in the sanctity of the marital act, but fully understand the pure carnal pleasure of a roll in the hay with someone new. I want to instill in my girls how important abstinence and chastity are, but teach them about safer, more responsible sex.
Hi, I’m Kathryn, and I’m posting a link to yummy 90s chick-rock to finish telling you about myself.
Hey, I told you I’m kind of old.
By Shayla of adelaidepoet.blogspot.com
sometimes it’s rushed
balled up squeezed to fit
in the corner of a briefcase
sometimes it’s an obligation
(you’re not supposed to say that)
a promise I made to myself
and to someone I love
that needs to be kept a duty, like watering plants
sometimes my mind is just elsewhere
should I pull chicken out tonight?
I could make pasta but if I do that I need
to buy peppers so I guess I’ll just cook chicken
remember to pull out the chicken
and I might as well be
a moving fist, a pixelated money shot
but
sometimes it’s slow
purposely drawn out long
simple actions turned foreplay
sometimes it’s a relief
(to let your body take over)
a distraction from all the bullshit
that comprises my life
in that one overwhelming moment I find silence
sometimes my mind becomes part of another person
I can hear his face, the waves of his nerves
speaking a language only my instincts know
link established
my body mirrors, reconstructs
and even when it’s over
we remain connected.
This poem is in celebration of Shannon Boodram’s groundbreaking book Laid: Young People’s Experiences with Sex in an Easy-Access Culture, which is officially available in stores as of yesterday. You can pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble, Chapters/Indigo, Borders Bookstore, Amazon or at Shannon’s book release party at the Revival (783 College Street West in Toronto) on October 14th. It’s 19+ and doors are open 6-10 p.m. — hope to see you there!
What could I possibly tell you about love?
Hmmm,
Let’s see…
That four letter word,
That four letter word means so many different things,
To so many different people,
You could take a survey of the word
And find a different definition
Depending on the person asked,
Their mental condition
And depending on the day or weather
Their present disposition,
And I guarantee you
That if they’ve had their heart broken
Well…when it comes to love
They’ve enforced a strict love prohibition,
But…and this is a VERY big but,
I mean
This but is SOOO big
It’s like a Costa Rican, mixed with Trinidadian,
Blended with a Nigerian, fused with a Jamaican
And topped off with a down south Atlantan
Who only eats collard greens and plantains
Type of butt…
I mean but…
But
Either way,
Even if he or she has placed a prohibition on love…
They cannot escape nor outrun its power and affect,
Before we even start, a little clarity now for a little focus later: THiS iS NoT A jUDGmENt AGaiNsT HoMoSeXuALS oR HOMosExuALITy. In fact, it’s regarding different rights altogether: it’s a question of whether CHRISTIAN rights have been, in fact, similarly violated.
My pastor is Bible-based— as any pastor who calls himself a ‘pastor’, i.e. “man of God”/”man of God’s Word, should be. He doesn’t make up stuff as he goes; he takes what God put in the Book, and teaches it to us so that we can live in a way that pleases God. Because, for a Christian, at the end of the day, it’s not about pleasing ourselves but pleasing Him, right?
Well, not too long ago, my pastor was invited to teach/preach in Oakland, California. He travels all the time, so it was no big thing… except, his invitation came with an addendum. Something to the effect of, “Whatever you do, don’t preach against homosexuality out here; it’s against the law. It’s considered a hate crime.”
Needless to say, the entire church shifted in their seats as he informed us of this. Most people, of course, thought to themselves, “Homosexuality is,” —AND AGAIN, THIS ARTICLE IS NOT A JUDGMENT AGAINST HOMOSEXUALS OR HOMOSEXUALITY— “against God’s will, and how can the state dictate what the church teaches to it’s own believers?”
Me, my mind was focused on something a little different: the idea of a hate crime.
See, the idea of a hate crime is that… you hafta hate somebody. Either, you have to cause harm to somebody in the name of hate, or you have to speak ill of somebody or encourage harm to be done to somebody in the name of hate. THAT’S a hate crime.
—And before I go any further, let me say this as well: Christians often err in that some of us hate the sinners instead of hating the sin; forgetting that we ourselves are still sinners, even if we have been redeemed. God, indeed, does love everyone [which DOESN'T mean anyone is exempt from His authority or judgment, by the way], and we are ordered also love everyone and live peacefully with everyone, whether they agree with His word or not. But that does NOT mean we compromise and agree with the ways other people choose to live—
When we are young, our parents and grown ups seem to have all the answers. We grow up thinking that being an adult means you magically understand everything, but you don’t. When you reach eighteen you are legally and adult, but age has nothing to do with adulthood.
“Mom, why are you and dad fighting?”
I was only 8, but I knew something was going on.
My mother wiped the tears from her eyes, looked away plastering a fake smile on her face.
“No reason, Nina. Go back to the room and watch T.V.”
I was not stupid,
“Why are you crying, Mama?”
“No ti preocupa, mi hija. Vete.”
Translation: Don’t worry my child. Go.
But, I was worried. The woman who had always had the answers was starting to collapse. I was 8 years old, I did not know what was going on, but I knew it was not good.
In the later years, my parents would divorce and I would see how human my mother really was. She was no longer a super hero because she was indestructible, but rather, she became a super hero because she faced the world day to day despite its horrors and despite her vulnerability. She did it for us. She did it for me. I learned how to become an adult from an early age. My mother was no longer this omnipotent being; She was as human as I, and we were all each other had. We put down the curtains of shielding from truth and became honest with one another, because what ever happened to one was going to effect the other. We swam or sank together.
I suppose, those lessons I learned with mom growing up, are why I am who I am today. I learned team work. I learned about friendship. I learned about unconditional love and support in the hard times. I learned there were going to be fights–ugly ones at that–but that no matter what, it was her and I against the world. We pulled through and I am where I am because we never stopped believing in each other. She was not just my Mom, she was also my friend.
I believe we learn love from our surroundings growing up, and come to understand whether those lessons in our youth were right or wrong when life sets in. I got lucky growing up. I was shown what love is, and thus I am able to put that forth to others in my relationships with friends and women.
See, my closest friends are the ones who will never give up on me, even when they absolutely want to. I once ask my best friend:
“Colin, never leave me or give up on, okay?”
He let out a soft, sighed laugh through the phone. He took a breath in saying,
“Honey child, I couldn’t even if I wanted too.”
The word “friend” is tossed around frequently now a days, but few know what a friend really is. I have been blessed in my life with the few close friends I do have. See, many think friendship is just about the good times, but then bail when the hard times set in. Then, when the storm has passed, they magically reappear, as if nothing ever happened. Those are not the friends who last a lifetime.
You get through the bad to get to the good, and the bad times make you understand why the good times are just that good. No one has all the answers to life, not even therapists. If they say they do, then they are idiots. The best lessons in life are not taught, but rather, discovered.
