Posts Tagged ‘sex’

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the road of lost innocence

February 7, 2011

i knew my checking account was dangerously low, but i was hoping i could feed it before it went negative. unfortunately, i woke up this morning to a stern email from my bank, again saving my ass through overdraft protection. and smacking me with a $35 fine. it turns out that my car insurance, macy’s and nordstrom’s off-the-rack bills, and gym membership fees left me with $3 in my account…but then i toppled into the red when my monthly automatic charity donation was deducted. sigh.

besides highlighting my reckless spending, it felt as if this charity was metaphorically slapping me in the face for my recent pity-fest: stop moping around because you don’t have a boyfriend and remember that other women do not even have the fucking PRIVILEGE to search out love!

i learned about this charity two years ago when i came across a book called The Road of Lost Innocence by Somaly Mam. this is the kind of memoir that rips at your heart as you try to empathize with a young girl caught in circumstances that should never exist.

an orphan growing up against the backdrop of the bloody khmer rouge regime in cambodia and later invasion by vietnam, Somaly Mam was sold into sexual slavery at the tender age of 12.

when i was 12, i got a puppy.

she says of the brothels,

This was ordinary prostitution. Stinking mouths and bodies, dirty rooms, violence. The blows hurt, but the act itself was much worse. Sometimes there would be only two or three men a day, sometimes many more. If there weren’t enough, Li would tell Aunty Peuve not to feed us, so we’d try harder. If there were too many, you hurt inside and out, until you managed to shut all feeling off. (mam 60).

she speaks of never, ever feeling clean or good. of loathing the smell of semen, and feeling, for the rest of her life, as if she could not scrub the stink of it off herself. if she refused to work or attempted to run, she was punished brutally. it was a life of dead ends. the kind of life that would make most of us crawl into a ball and just never move, never feel, never care again.

somehow, Somaly escaped. she made it all the way to france where she started a new life. and yet, instead of quietly living out her days healing wounds as deep as the grand canyon, she chose to go back to cambodia to fight for the thousands of girls still being abused. since then, Somaly has begun a movement that has given new life to over 400,000 women in circumstances much like hers. sickeningly, her memoir recounts that,

Nowadays the girls are much younger too. This is because men in Cambodia will pay a thousand dollars to rape a virgin for a week—it’s always a week, for a virgin. Sex with a virgin is supposed to give strength, to lengthen a man’s life span and even lighten his skin….Often they are very young girls, just five or six years old. After the week is over, they sew the girl inside—without an anesthetic—and quickly sell her again. A virgin is supposed to scream and bleed, and this way the girl will scream and bleed, again and again. They do it maybe three or four times. (59-60).

i’m not quoting these lurid passages to be sensational. but if there was ever a book that needs to be read, this is one. you will cry, you will get up and pace, you will put it down because it is too much to absorb. i hope at the end, you will be moved, like i was, to visit the Somaly Mam Foundation website. i spend so much money on stupid crap that it was no hard decision to set up a monthly payment plan for this cause. i am currently doing $10 a month.

one last quote, i promise:

It’s still happening, today, tonight. Imagine how many girls have been raped and hit since you started to read this book. My story doesn’t matter, except that it stands for their story too, and their stories are why I don’t sleep at night. They haunt me. (60-61).

ten, fifteen dollars a month is really nothing. think about that monthly $140 you pay toward the monstrously large HDTV in your living room. the four times this month you’ve ordered delivery. the $60 bucks you blew on tequila shots at an overpriced bar celebrating nothing special.

little, precious girls. just think.

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singledom

February 6, 2011

how can one half of a person be so happy at what she has achieved, and the other half so achingly alone? last weekend i was so busy with different events and people that it wasn’t hard to keep my mind on a leash. but this weekend, no matter how much i will it to love me, my phone remains mute. when i have too much time on my hands, i resent waking up every morning and reaching for no one. if i cook, i halve the recipe because it’s far too much for one person. i hold off watching netflix movies as if i’m waiting for someone. i buy a new see-through nothing even though my only audience is a dog and kitten. i sit on my stylish leather couch in my perfectly decorated contemporary living room and watch the evening light fade to black. everything about my life is waiting for a man who is not there, and may never be.

when i consider my future, i know there are so many meaningful things in my life to which i could devote myself. especially as an attorney, there are an unlimited amount of victims to help. and yet somehow, all i can focus on is the thousands of times i will come home to an empty house, a dinner alone, a cold bed. i hurt sometimes with this desire to just BE with someone. literally actually—my cunt aches.

hopefully things change when i start work. i certainly don’t want to feel like my life is filler time until i meet a guy, especially since that kind of shallowness would not support anyone’s attention anyway. i have a feeling if i just had one gal pal to take on the city, i wouldn’t feel so desperately lonely. unfortunately, all my girlfriends are adorably paired-off. oh, how disgustingly adorably.

in other news, it has been exactly six months and three days since i have had sex.

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genital herpes = huge threat

October 14, 2010

hearing from a friend about her friend whose girlfriend cheated on him, contracted genital herpes, and then gave it to him (drama, drama) led me on a steadily more horrifying research trail. forget about the obviously alarming but treatable STDs—apparently one in five people (and another site stated one in four) have genital herpes. that shit doesn’t go away.

reading those stats, my heart thumped hard in my chest.

i never knew it was so prevalent. worse, I didn’t know half of the other alarming traits about herpes which have since wreaked havoc with my hypochondria-addled brain. some fun facts:

  • you don’t need to have sex to get herpes. not even oral sex. skin-to-skin contact is enough. kissing is enough. (fuck).
  • building on that first point, using condoms may not help you since it may not cover your partner’s entire infected area
  • women are four times as likely to get herpes from a male partner than the other way around (can’t find where i read this, but i’m certain i remember it correctly—it’s burned into my brain at this point)
  • most people do not even realize they have herpes because they are asymptomatic. and if they don’t know, you definitely don’t know
  • even for those who do exhibit symptoms, they don’t have to be having an outbreak to infect you
  • symptoms vary person-to-person, and they often resemble other issues—bug bites, ingrown hairs, the flu, UTIs, yeast infections, other STDs
  • testing for herpes is not very clear-cut. if you have sores on your genitals, it’s far easier to come to the correct diagnosis by taking a sample and testing it. the problem is that many people never get sores, and herpes breakouts only occur a few times a year for those who do. blood tests can be helpful, but they only test for herpes antibodies created to fight the disease—meaning that if you test too early, those antibodies won’t be present. apparently it can take as long as three months from the date of infection before antibodies are made (scroll near the bottom). finally, there are a lot of false-positives and false-negatives for these tests (and these tests are expensive)

let’s break all that information down to its scary and shitty conclusion: you can be careful, never sleep with strange, heck never even sleep with someone, and still get herpes. in fact, you could have gotten both of your boyfriends tested before sleeping with them (what i did), and they may still have this disease because the tests are not clear-cut and timing is essential. great. i’ve now spent most of the day checking out my girl parts in a hand mirror trying to figure out if that’s razor burn or herpes. unfortunately, i’ve only ever looked at myself one other time so i can’t tell if the landscape is different.

that brings me to three other observations:

one, we can’t just go around having sex anymore. forget sexual needs and safe fuck buddies and the whole bit—with at least 20% of the population infected, having sex with someone who hasn’t been tested (and tested correctly and probably multiple times), is playing russian roulette with your sexual well-being.

and also with your psychological well-being: two, there is a major stigma associated with having genital herpes. i would feel so dirty and unlovable if i had it, which is why a lot of people with the disease fail to tell their sexual partners. and yet, apparently somewhere between 20 and 25% of the population has the disease. these are people we know, people we’re screwing, people getting married and having kids. these people might be you and me. so why is there such a cloud over the disease, and why don’t we know more about it?

which brings me to number three, why is our sex education so crappy? here i am thinking i’m being so safe—limited sex to my two boyfriends, rarely had oral sex and used a condom where i didn’t trust the guy as much, got both my boyfriends to submit to an STD test before i would sleep with them—and it’s not enough. and honestly, most of the people i know haven’t been as careful as i am. and these are educated people! i only know a handful of people who have ever even taken a test. telling us ‘use condoms’ isn’t enough and preaching ‘abstinence only’ is a travesty of public health. worse yet, i have never heard that STD tests themselves are unreliable. without that information, we could be walking around with false confidence in our sexual health and infecting strangers, boyfriends—people we love.

i feel like i should go get tested. i did between boyfriend 1 and boyfriend 2. except that with the expense (probably between $100-200 bucks) and the embarrassment of having to go to an STD testing place, i really, really don’t want to. i wish i was still a student and could just go to the student health center. that’s a lot more private than having to walk into planned parenthood, and a heck of a lot less expensive. i know that doesn’t sound very adult, but you don’t have to be or act like an adult to have sex. that’s the problem.

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girls and low self-esteem

October 7, 2010

Is it normal to get super needy and promiscuous after a break-up? So far I’ve only slept with my two ex-boyfriends, but I seem to hit the lower bases with regularity after each break-up. I don’t want to be this weak, un-wholesome girl. What if I really do lose it one night after drinking and sleep with somebody, not just kiss them or let them touch me? As it is, I can’t handle the guilt the day after I do anything and I’ve already screwed around with two guys in the month since I broke up with my ex. I know it only happens when I drink, but there must be something in me just lurking under the surface if it keeps happening. Not drinking would get rid of the symptom (promiscuity) but not the underlying issue (self-esteem). What’s worse is that with this last guy, he said I mentioned “relationship” to him a few times. I don’t want to date this guy!! Why would that even come up? He’s not my type at all, I think I’m just needy for male attention. So of course I can’t see him again and now it’s just another dirty secret stored away in my brain.

This blog isn’t just supposed to be my personal diary, but I’m trying to be honest about what I’m doing (and doing wrong) in life to get at bigger realities. For example, why are so many girls running around with such low self-esteem? I know that’s the root of my problem, but where did it come from? I know I’m a pretty girl. I know I’m a smart girl. And yet, I don’t really feel like I’m worth it. I don’t understand WHY. There are so many girls just like me out there who, at bottom, feel the same way. Heck, guys joke about finding insecure girls because we’re easy to get into bed. We want so badly to be loved but don’t actually think anyone could love us. And for some reason, that translates into promiscuity even though that’s the last way to get a guy, to get love.

Is this an American phenomenon? I don’t know if European girls are doing better. I also don’t know how to solve this kind of problem because I don’t know where it came from. I’m trying to pin-point where exactly in life I lost my self-worth. Do we all have a particular event in our childhood that killed our ability to love ourselves? Did our daddies not love us enough? Or is it just something chemical, just fucked up brain chemistry that we could never control in the first place?

What happened to this girl? It seems that just as I’m building my confidence, I meet a boy and he brings me back down. Other people break up and they don’t question their worth. Why do I?

How can I fix myself if I don’t know exactly why it’s happening?

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sex

February 7, 2008

sex is a strange thing. it reminds you that you are, at bottom, an animal. as a woman, you press yourself into your man, rub your face between his legs and breathe in that slightly musty scent that makes you turn wet down there. you submit when he puts you on your back and pins your arms down with one hand, the other pulling your chin up so that you’re forced to look straight into his eyes as he drives deep inside you. you moan, loving it, loving the almost painful feeling of him grinding down so deep. loving the idea that you’re going to feel this tomorrow, this feeling of your body being put to use. it’s all nails and sweat and mewling his name, the only thought consuming your being the idea of him coming deep inside you. you want it, that mark, his man scent on you, in you. you want to be his territory. when he leaves, you don’t want to shower. you smell of him, the sheets smell of him, and you revel in it.

the problem is, he left.