| Wednesday, February 28, 2007 | ||
| What’s to be Gained from Sex in the Conference Hall? | ||
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Maybe they were right to teach us that sex is best when it involves only two. It took three hundred or so of the finest minds and spirits in women’s sexuality today, to join forces – to talk and listen, mind you – in order to come up with this not so novel conclusion: we still have no clue what women’s sexuality is really all about. Experts from around the world met this week at the annual International Society for the Study of Women's Sexual Health (ISSWSH) conference in Orlando, Florida. The sexual functioning of men seems to be quite lucid an area for doctors and scientists. But when it comes to us women, they can prod and poke, measure and inquire, qualify and quantify, and yet our orgasm (or lack thereof) still manages to baffle the sharpest of minds. Personally, I say they should keep searching for new ways to learn our bodies, our minds, our hearts and our tastes, so that every woman can know good sex. Keep up the good fight! Not the mention the demonstration that group sex can be safe, even if ultimately, it’s not entirely satisfying. More on the questions and research areas discussed is reported by Judy Peres of the Chicago Tribune.  This image is an illustration, and it is doubtful that the topic under discussion here is female orgasm. |
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| Friday, February 23, 2007 | ||
| Me Tarzana, You John! | ||
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When it comes to sex, us humans love comparing ourselves to animals. To be more specific, it is usually the male of the species who enjoys this pastime, in the service of his libido. Apparently, animal behaviour provides some people with the right to have their erotic cake and eat it.
Now a study from UC, Berkeley (published in the Journal of Neuroscience) has given a little more support to our primitive nature when it comes to getting turned on. And this time it focuses on the woman as the primal one. A bunch of scientist who actually get funding to make innocent civilians sniff one another, discovered that Androstadienone, a compound found in male sweat, makes us gals crazy (at least the straight gals). The same has been claimed about Pheromones, but it’s still controversial and not simple to activate, as with Androstadienone. The latest news is that just a few whiffs of sweat from a male of your taste can shift a woman’s body into a different gear: hormone levels go up, new brain activity is set in motion, moods change and sexual arousal is triggered. This is great news for our sexual awareness, but only if you are willing to retune some old habits. In the process of trying to get further away from the animals, we may have developed a societal instinct to yell “get into a shower before you come near me” instead of indulging in the musky Having said all that, my final word on using “it’s in our nature” as an excuse for not fighting the urge to sniff multiple passing bottoms, is this: find me one animal with a multiple orgasm and I’ll graciously acquiesce with your doing the animal thing. In the meantime, let’s follow the scientific lead: go work up a good sweat around the house and wait for your woman to charge. |
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| Friday, February 16, 2007 | ||
| [Male] For Sale | ||
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In a series inspired by Valentines Day, this week Sky News ran a piece about women who pay for sex. Anyone else thinking the connection is a bit dubious? The less than brilliant-sounding escort agency owner interviewed, said “Many women see men as a commodity... so it makes sense for them to just go and buy a man”. This is supposedly the female answer to the fact that men have been buying sex for as long as currency has existed. I’m not sure, though, that egalitarian sex for hire is what was intended by the sexual revolution. Anyone interested to get into this apparently up-and-coming line of work can feel reassured by the fact that there is a how-to guide. And it’s not written by just any old escort. The aspiring author won the Male Escort Review's 1999 Escort of the Year Award. Is that like a Pulitzer? 
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| Thursday, February 08, 2007 | ||
| Sayonara, Little Man! | ||
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The amazing thing about globalization is that I can get offended almost instantaneously by something that was said on the other side of the Pacific, in a language I don't even understand. Like this week, when the Minister of Health in Japan called me a birth-giving machine. He may have been speaking to women on his own island, but let's face it, no-one likes big waves that start off on that side of the world.
Personally, I prefer the original term that he used, kodomo o umu kikai. It may sound like a bit of an exotic come-on, but actually its a very poetic-sounding way of calling us womb-wasters! The minister decided that he needed to explain to his simple female constituents, something that was not all that easy for technological over-achievers to understand. So he used what he later explained to the press, was just a metaphor. Really!? The fertility rate in Japan stands at just under 1.3 (children per woman). And minister knows that that just isn't good for the economy. It really should be clear that each and every patriotic woman must turn in her uterus, in the service of the empire. Not for her own sake, or for the sake of her family, but for the future of the state. No less. He said it and he said it OUT LOUD. Oh dear, Hakuo (you don't mind the first name terms coming from a pseudo-mechanical contraption?), let me explain something to you in simple words. It's not nice to call me a baby-making machine. Some people like to say that no-person should be objectified by parts of their body, but I think that maybe you were thinking with one of the smaller parts of your body. |
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| Sunday, February 04, 2007 | ||
| Counting Down to Valentine’s Day | ||
There are just 10 shopping days to go and the panic has already begun to set in. The day of Valentension is upon us again... .jpg) Valentine’s Day is powerful and universal, in that across the globe, across gender barriers, age-groups and ethnic diversities, people everywhere are left feeling nervous, dejected and disappointed. This day leaves so few actually feeling better about themselves (most of whom are card store owners and overpriced, silly gift distributors). So let’s get down to the bottom of this perverse celebration. According to legend, our hero, St. Valentine, was a priest in Rome around the 3rd century. At this time, the Caesar decided to ban marriage for young men, because he didn’t want them to lose their edge, which came in useful in his war efforts; we all know how sex can reduce the urge to pillage and devastate. But young priest, Valentine, decided to perform marriages in secret, for which he was caught and brutally put to death. So what exactly are we celebrating here? The death penalty? The peace movement? The institution of marriage? I still don’t see the connection between our Roman hero and the commercial conspiracy to fatten us up with red-wrapped chocolates before making us wear the tasteless lacy underwear than no woman would in her right mind buy for herself. Well, either that, or the absurd wish to be one of those women who might be given gifts of such chocolate and underwear, were they not alone, feeling unloved. Now, with ten whole days to this annual implosion of our self-esteem/relationship-esteem, this is the perfect time to relax and disengage from the madness. Really, if we don’t think clearly, it’s just a lose-lose situation. Is this all about love, or is it about the pure pain of identifying and obtaining the right gift that says enough but not too much, is original but not too riské, and doesn’t show you up for the stayed lover you are on non-commercial-love-fest days. Let’s start with those wonderful people who find themselves unattached romantically on this day. No problem whatsoever; as Whitney Houston suggested, “the greatest love of all” means that you deserve to really splurge on yourself, especially considering the bundles you’re saving on your absentee-valentine. Practically put, those fabulous shoes or the luring vibrator absolutely must be procured. There we go – already feeling much better about the day. And the principle is similar for the attached individuals among us. Romance is all very well, but we want to translate it into erotic, satisfying, and if possible – we’d like it to be a sure thing. So let’s lay off the lame fluffy boxes and inadequate lacy shit. How about a pact whereby each partner buys her or himself something that will be of some benefit to their lover. “Some benefit”, of course, is left to the discretion of the buyer. For those on the receiving end of a male gift, you may find yourself grossly disappointed with your gift, but don’t be. Consider it a decoy. After all, you got what you wanted on your own, without a drop of guilt. |
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