10 Tips for Men to be Better in Bed

Recently a series of conversations on Facebook took place surrounding a very funny summary of sex between a cishet man and a woman. The jist of the joke had to do with the experiences of women who sleep with cis men and an exaggerated version of the very similar script followed by many of these men. Basically along the lines of of ‟kisses for 20 seconds, fingers you for 30 seconds, immediately wants PiV intercourse. Pumps away with no clitoral stimulation. Cums. Asks did you cum, then rolls over and falls asleep.”

The number of women and non-binary people  who commented on the shares of this post was both entertaining and a sad commentary on the average straight sexual experience. Many of the comments included additional frequent script additions including the stereotypical downward head push when some guys want oral sex, the rareness with which men actually offer or go ahead with eating out, and the tendency for sex to really be all about his orgasm – while at the same time many men are convinced that they’re Dynamos in bed.

As I’ve written previously, I’ve been having some sexy adventures of late, in an attempt to live by the old adage: “The best way to get over someone, is to get under a lot of someones.” While it is only recently that I’ve engaged in more diverse adventures, even before my possibly tawdry experiments however, I had an uncommonly good knowledge of matters related to sex and sexuality.

From a fairly young age, I was intrigued by sex and my research took various forms including but not limited to pornography, literotica, various articles, sex and relationship advice columns, as well as actual academic studies in sexology. What’s more, for all that I may be awkward, I have been told that I have fairly good insight into people’s motivations, wants, fears, etc. Even before I lost my virginity, it was not uncommon for friends and acquaintances to seek my advice on issues related to sex and relationships, and my advice very frequently proved helpful. A few years ago, I even looked into starting an advice column, but had no idea how to seek out questions.

Continuing the fun, I asked my friends about advice they could give to cis het men when it comes to being a better lover. More hilarity ensued, but there was also an undercurrent of anger. I mean… seriously, wouldn’t you be if guys bragging about what great lovers they are, but continuously turned out to be nothing to write home about?

Based on the comments and my own experiences, I’ve put together a list of advice designed to help cis het men, and frankly anyone who sleeps with either women or people with vaginas. Note that because this article is targeted at Cis Het Men when interacting with women with vaginas, the language used may be somewhat binary in nature. This is not meant to exclude non-binary people as both existing, their identity being truth, but is only meant to deal with a very specific set of circumstances and not be a general essay on sex and different orientations. Those posts may yet be coming. Remember: Not all women have vaginas, not all men have penises, and there are more than two genders.

Without Further Ado: Ten Tips On How to Rock Her World Continue reading “10 Tips for Men to be Better in Bed”

10 Tips for Men to be Better in Bed
{advertisement}

Brad’s Tips for Growing your Home Garden

Today’s post is written by Brad E. Man

Hey y’all

I’m writing this today because Sunflower Punk can’t possibly comprehend this because she is a woman. I mean she tells me she’s “non binary”, but we all know that there are only two genders. Binaries are for computers and we all know women don’t know how they work.

Anyway, I’m here to talk to you about growing your own tomatoes.

Obviously this guy is a cuck.

It is not hard to grow your own food. Literally anything you say is a barrier is an excuse. Disabled? Nope. The only disability is your bad attitude.

Have kids? Should have kept your legs closed, slut.

Too busy at work? Do what I did. Don’t work and have your fiance pay for everything.

My Guide to Saving Money to grow tomatoes:

Step 1) have a fiance that pays for all your shit

Step 2) bully single moms on the internet

Step 3) profit (the profit is a tomato)

Really, that’s all there is to it. Step 1 was hard because some women have ridiculous standards like “don’t harass women online”. But I pressed on and after following PUA tactics, I negged someone enough to think I was the best they could do.
Which brings me to step 2. I was peacefully minding my business eating Doritos, drinking mountain dew and perusing return of kings. A woman I don’t know posted the above image. Obviously I had to point out how wrong she was.

She told me she’s homeless. Can you believe that? Homeless and on facebook! I bet she also has a phone. Ridiculous.

Another woman told me her budget and how it doesn’t cover enough to grow a home garden.

Excuses! My phone bill is $200/month, rent is $600 and our food budget is 181 dollars. All this is paid by my fiance while I stay home and tend to the garden. It is after all my pride and joy.

These women with their children and homelessness are haters and will continue to have bad luck because they wouldn’t listen to me.

Brad Every Man is a sometimes writer, all the time douche bag.  He enjoys tomatoes, sexism and classism. He has a cat who hates him.  

Brad’s Tips for Growing your Home Garden

Se Llevaron La Luz!: Blackout 2003 and Reflections

It’s been 13 years since I left Puerto Rico with my mom and brother. It’s also been 13 years since the Blackout of 2003.

We were out shopping when all the stores went dark. At first people thought it was just on that block. Then we found out all of Southern Boulevard had lost power. We kept walking and found the train station, that’s when we found out there was a blackout so we could not get on the train. A few people were worried it was an act of terror. After all , 9/11 had happened less than two years prior.

Honestly though, my brother and I did not understand the problem. The light was constantly being “taken away” in Puerto Rico. The blackout was sorta welcomed to us because it made us feel at home. Growing up, it was a very common thing to yell, “se llevaron la luz!” out the window to alert the other neighbors that the power had been cut off the in the neighborhood for a while. We did the same when they’d cut the water supply.”They” being the Autoridad de Energia Electrica de PR and  Acueductos y Alcantarillados.  We’d go days without both so we had no problem dealing with the blackout.

Recently I’ve been thinking how much things change. When we moved to NYC I thought I’d never get used to all the noise and people. I’d never get used to swaying of the trains or the bumpy rides on buses. Everything was bright, loud and steel.

A childhood friend is visitng. They’ve never been to NYC. The bus and train ride home was hilarious. It reminded me so much of when I get here. My friend was looking at everything with such wide-eyed amazement. And I was telling them about the City and the “rules”, how New Yorkers  are. I told them they must have a NYC pizza because we are the best at it. They were asking so many questions and I was able to answer them.

I miss the coqui’s song. I miss how starry the sky is at night in El Campo. I miss the beaches.

I’ve never really felt at home in the States. Visiting Puerto Rico is always great but then I’m reminded of all the religious motivated bigotry on the Island; all the machismo etc. So, I feel too Latina for the States and too Americana for Puerto Rico.

But I’m starting to realize I have the best of both worlds.

I get to have New York City’s big slices of pizza and my friend brought me Puerto Rican candy. So, it’s a win-win.

Se Llevaron La Luz!: Blackout 2003 and Reflections

Mourning a Rando’s Dick

CN: t-slur

A man messaged me on a dating site to let me know how much my feminism was a “dick killer”. How as soon as he saw my picture he lost interest and would rather “fuck a hole in the wall”. How he thought I was interesting until he saw “feminist”, how he thought I was a “tr*nny”. And again reminded me how much of a “dick killer” I am.

Oh how will I ever go on? I have hurt this man. He was so confused. How dare my uninteresting face made him look at my interesting profile until he saw that dreaded F word.

I know this man’s pain. Many times I have walked into baseball stadiums to loudly tell every one how much I hate that game.

I once bought a cheeseburger and then angrily demanded my money back because of how much I hate them.

This poor man.

How will I ever go on knowing the hurt I caused this man? How will I ever go on knowing he won’t fuck me?

Tis truly a sad day him.

Let us all mourn this man’s dick’s death. RIP, dick. RIP.

tumblr_n9u7kepcfX1qjzfl0o1_500

Mourning a Rando’s Dick

Privacy and Abuela

Privacy, bodily autonomy, personal space isn’t a thing for older Hispanics.

When I was little and there was company coming over grandma would yell at us to clean our room. It didn’t matter that it was clean. No, it had to be immaculate. It had to look like two small children (my younger brother and I) weren’t occupying that space.

If it wasn’t cleaned to her standards, she’d close the door. I’d ask why and I was told, “you know how people are. They might open the door and then see the mess.”

I heard this again when mami was teaching me how to cook rice and she’d arranged the rice in a neat mound in the pot when it was done cooking. I would never do that. She’d tell me to. I’d ask why and she’d say “presentation is important because people might open the pot”

I mean who the hell would care if the rice wasn’t arranged nicely? I only cared about it being cooked properly. (When I was learning, I always added too much waer and it would end up “amogollao”)

Who were these nosy ass people judging me about my unmade bed and messy rice?
Family, of course.

I learned family had a right to everything about me. I got my first period when I was 11 and my grandmother called everybody to tell them that “el gallo ya canto”. I got calls from my godmother in NYC congratulating me on finally becoming a “Señorita”.

I lived with my mom, my grandparents and my two brothers. My tio M* lived with is until he died when I was 8. The room I shared with my mom and younger brother was the master bedroom of the house. It had its own bathroom, but no door, instead it had a beaded curtain (no kidding!).

Grandma would walk in the bathroom all the time. It didn’t matter if I was showering or on the toilet because “we both have the same stuff”.

Sometimes, when I had the room to myself, I’d close the door. Grandma would yell at me because “decent young ladies” don’t close their doors. I was 12.

Once a boy who liked me walked me most of the way home. We passed by several older people who knew my grandpa (in our town people knew who you were by your “pinta”. They could tell who your “people” were by your coloring!)
I knew they would have all sorts of stories about A’s* granddaughter walking alone with a boy. So as soon as I got home I told my grandma that a boy from my class (and I made sure to emphasize how much I did not like this boy) had walked me part of the way home. Because if I didn’t tell her, she’d hear about it next time she went into town and I’d get yelled at.

I was forced to hug and kiss relatives I didn’t want to. I’d be shamed into doing it.

I told myself I would be different with TJ. For the most part I am, but then I have company come over and even though my apartment is clean, I start freaking out because a child’s messy room will be used as proof of how “malcri’a” TJ is; how shitty I am as a mom.

I know it’s all bullshit. I know that the people who matter won’t care about that stuff. I mean, a lot of this privacy and bodily autonomy stuff is tied into a lot of social justice issues and most of my friends are social justice minded. So rationally I KNOW that my 6 year old’s messy room won’t be a big deal. In fact, a child that age should have a messy room.

But in the back of my mind, I hear my tiny but scary grandma telling me to clean up. It’s the same voice I hear whenever I try to ignore abuelitas in the street when I have my earbuds on. It’s the same voice who tells me to keep my legs together when I’m wearing a skirt. It’s the reason why even though I’m an atheist I still ask my grandma for “la bendición”.

Because old habits die hard and disrespecting abuela is a no-no.

Note: Initials were used to protect family’s privacy (take that nosy family!)

Privacy and Abuela

Fake Goths

It’s been a few months since the whole Cathy Brennan is a fake goth thing started. It had died down. And then some friends were locked out of their accounts for 24 hours for months-old posts. So it began again.

I haven’t been locked out but I’ve had several posts removed for calling Cathy Brennan a fake goth. (update: as soon as I published this, I discovered I was locked out from posting for 24 hours)

Fake goths aren’t persecuted. There aren’t people outside of Hot Topic waiting for scene kids to come out to then beat them. No one is doxxing fake goths, there isn’t legislation stopping fakers from using the bathroom.

Yet, fake goths can report a post and have it taken down immediately.

Facebook recently removed a post from The Body is not an Apology simply because it was standing in solidarity with Black Lives Matter.
The Kinfolk Kollective and Son of Baldwin pages were unpublished for a few days.

Meanwhile Facebook doesn’t remove violent imagery, it doesn’t remove sexism, racism, transmisogyny and homophobia. Fake Goths can doxx trans women and that is totally fine.

Gender Identity Watch could harass trans women and Facebook did nothing about it. I can’t find GIW on Facebook so I’m hoping it’s been removed but how many times did it have to be reported before Facebook did anything?

On the other hand, posts calling Cathy Brennan a fake goth were removed almost immediately. It does not escape me that a white woman can so easily have posts removed.

We all know Facebook is racist as fuck. We all know that white people are racist. I don’t care that she’s posting pro-BLM stuff on her page. She benefits from the racist system Facebook has set up. Her privilege as a white woman is being used when she decides “fake goth” hurts her delicate feels.

Trans women, particularly trans women of color, don’t get that luxury.

All this to say that CATHY BRENNAN IS A FAKE GOTH.

Fake Goths

Tall Barbie: A Review 

Previously I had reviewed Curvy Barbie. Today I review Tall Barbie.

pMAT1-23566685v380
Barbie Fashionistas, Fab Fringe (image is of a Brown skinned doll, she is black long sleeve top with floral print on, she’s wearing blue shorts and black booties. Her hair is red and in a curly Afro.

Original Barbie is 11.5 inches tall. This Barbie is about 13 inches tall. One of the reasons I wanted to buy this doll was because unlike most Barbies, she has short hair. Plus, she’s sporting a curly Afro!

pizap.com14637579353911

In addition to the new body types, Mattel has also added new face sculpts. This doll has a wide nose and full lips. Her eyes are light brown and she has a medium skin tone.

img_9659

pizap.com14637594561961
Tall Barbie comes accessorized with black Booties and a white wrist watch

pizap.com14637581447601

Mattel will be releasing other tall (and curvy) dolls with fashions but for now, these dolls have to make do with the outfits they’re wearing. Tall Barbie does fit into Original Barbie’s clothes but since she is a few inches taller, the clothes are a bit shorter.
Original Barbie can fit into Tall Barbie’s clothes but as you can see above Original Barbie has a thinner waist so Tall Barbie’s shorts a bit big around that area on the Original.
Tall Barbie also has wider flatter feet but she is able to wear Original heels, however because her feet are flatter she isn’t able to stand upright with them on.

pizap.com14637592926331
Tall Barbie wearing Original Barbie heels. Because her feet are flatter, she ends up leaning forward when wearing these.
img_9673 (1)
Swapped outfits

Like most Barbies, Tall Barbie is not articulated.

Just like Curvy Barbie, Tall Barbie has been a big hit here at home. TJ and I are both tall and we both have curly hair. TJ is thrilled to see a doll with features closer to hers. My daughter has named her Savannah.

 

 

Tall Barbie: A Review 

Curvy Barbie: A Review

In a previous post I talked about Barbie and representation and Mattel’s new line of dolls. In this post I’m reviewing one of the curvy dolls.

pmat1-23566684enh-z6

Barbie Fashionistas, Dolled Up in Denim
(image is of a brown-skinned doll, she has long brown hair, she’s wearing a blue denim dress with a white lace blouse over it. her shoes and necklace are both red, she is curvier than the original Barbie)

12788653_1024724387587506_908669539_o

Upon first seeing her I noticed she seemed thicker than in the pictures I’d seen online.
12789874_1024724310920847_1168909006_o
12822983_1024724274254184_432485405_o
12788578_1024724224254189_341285082_o
12789850_1024724254254186_1952295528_o

(four images of the same brown-skinned doll, the images show different close up shots of her body)
Her thighs almost touch and I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. A doll with thunder thighs! Her body is thicker than the Original Barbie and she definitely is hourglass shaped.

12810182_1024724337587511_973422603_o

Her face mold is beautiful. Her eyes are soft brown, her nose is small, her lips are full. Her hair is brown with golden blonde streaks. The lacy white top is removable!
The white top has Velcro in the back to take it on or off. The dress has stretchy straps and it can slipped on and off.

12787584_1024724134254198_1357830630_o

Like most Barbie dolls, her joints are not articulated.

img_9660
Left to right: Curvy, Tall and Original

This doll is for my daughter. I asked her what she thought of her. TJ says the new doll is very pretty and that sheʹs glad they’re making different shaped dolls. She told me she noticed the doll is bigger than her other Barbies. So, we talked about fat acceptance and why I don’t view the word fat as pejorative.
TJ has named the new doll Serena and is already introducing them to her other dolls. Curvy Barbie has been a hit here.

Like I mentioned before I noticed the doll was thicker in person than online. This was something another friend who bought Curvy Barbie had mentioned to me.
I think she could be fatter, how great would it be to have a fat Barbie with a big belly? One who isn’t an hourglass shape? But this is definitely a start.

Curvy Barbie: A Review

Barbie and Representation

Mattel recently revealed what they’re calling “The Evolution of Barbie”. It includes three new body types (along with new hair and eye colors, and funky new hairstyles) that will sell alongside the original doll. These body types are curvy, petite, and tall.

I love Barbie. I had about 30 of them when I was little. Most of them were the white, blue-eyed, blonde Barbie. I had a few brunettes, one Teresa (she was the Hispanic Barbie), and the Puerto Rican Barbie which was part of the Dolls of the World collection.

$_1

(image is of two dolls. Both dolls are brunettes. The doll on the left is the Happy Birthday Barbie doll. She is wearing a pink and white ball gown with balloons and ribbons print. She has a party hat on her head. The doll on the right is wearing a pink and white dress. She has a pink flower in her hair. She is the Puerto Rican doll.)

When I was little, I hated my big nose and my huge curly hair. White skin was prized and I was always told it was a good thing I wasn’t darker. It wasn’t until recently that I started appreciating my natural hair. My mother was constantly buying hair straightening cream “para matar el rizo” (kill the curl).
I always liked the brunette and darker skin dolls best but I was always given white Barbie. So I would take my mother’s brown eye shadows, crush it and mix it with water and dunk my blonde Barbies hair in. It lasted until I decided to wash my dolls.

I got the message that my natural hair wasn’t beautiful. I was always told I was too fat. I would hear people say girls looked like a Barbie if they were thin, white and pretty. I would never be a Barbie. But I could pretend. My Barbies had fantastic adventures. They were singers, cops, teachers, spies, feminist bad asses who didn’t need Ken. Although that was mostly because I only had one Ken. So that Ken played different characters, while my Barbies had different names and personalities, I still remember most of their names.

My Barbies provided me an escape from my unhappy childhood.

It’s a little tough being a feminist and a huge Barbie fan. For a while I thought I was a bad feminist for loving Barbie. I didn’t realize I could appreciate Barbie but also critique her shortcomings. I was also hesitant to apply any critical thought to Barbie because I was worried it would tarnish my childhood memories of her.

Once I had a daughter, I realized I needed to look at Barbie (and all other media directed towards her) critically. My daughter doesn’t look like Barbie, and she never will. That is ok. That’s what I need to hear when I was little. Barbie was an unrealistic standard. I didn’t need to look like her to have worth and be loved.
Barbie didn’t make me have self-esteem issues. It was the adults around me with fat-phobia, anti-blackness and colorism who caused my self-esteem problems.
My daughter knows that her curls are beautiful. That her light skin doesn’t make her any better than someone darker.

Barbie has been pretty good in showing racial diversity. I always could say Teresa was “for me” but never “she looks like me” because Teresa was thin.

Having a fashion doll who’s curvy is a huge deal. Not only will chubby girls finally see themselves in a doll, but they’re also getting the message that they too can be fashion forward and fun.

Curvy Barbie is not without her problems. She could be bigger. Her figure is the “acceptable fat”; an hourglass shape. That’s a problem plus-size modeling and the body positivity movement have as well. But, I’m glad that Curvy Barbie is here. It’s a step in the right direction. Curvy Barbie is the doll I wished would have existed when I was little. Needless to say, my inner child is excited for this.

I’ve posted a review of Curvy and Tall Barbie! Click on links to read them!

Barbie and Representation

When Santa stopped being real

I wrote a letter to Santa once. I remember it still. I asked him how he was, how the elves and his wife were and to please be careful on his trip. I asked him if the tropical weather bothered him. It was 1995 and I asked for a specific Barbie doll. I never got a response and I didn’t get the Barbie I wanted, although I did get a Dream House and another Barbie. I was happy.
That Christmas Eve, I went to bed earlier than usual. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. I heard mami talking to someone. I go check and she’s sitting next to the dream house and the Hot Wheels race track my brother was getting. I asked who she was talking to. She told me I had just missed Santa. She told me to go back to bed. Which took a lot of will power because the Barbie dream house from 1995 was amazing!

The next Summer, I was looking for something in mami’s dresser and I found the letter I had written. At first I was upset because I thought mami forgot to send it which would explain why I didn’t get what I had asked for.
But I got to thinking, where would mami send it? I had all these questions but I didn’t want to push it.

We never left Santa milk and cookies. We left him Pepsi and Lays potato chips. I asked my mother why we couldn’t leave him milk and cookies like I saw on TV. She said Santa had that in all the other houses; he appreciated the variety. Then I asked if we could leave Doritos instead. She said Santa didn’t like those. I didn’t believe her because everyone loves Doritos, right? Then she told me that Santa couldn’t eat Doritos because the cheese dust would make his white beard orange. That made sense to my child mind, so I left it alone.

One Christmas I got a talking teddy bear. Grandma told me she had a scare when she was wrapping the presents because the bear had started talking. I had thought Santa brought them all wrapped! Mami explained that that year he was very busy so he left them with grandma and mami to wrap them.

I was eight years old when I finally stopped believing in Santa. I was looking for something in our armoire (curiosity didn’t kill the cat but it certainly made them question things) and I found lots of wrapped gifts with my and my brother’s name on them. I asked mami about them. First she said those were for other children who had our same names. I didn’t believe her but I left it alone. That Christmas, what do I find did under the tree? Those gifts I had found in the armoire! I asked mami how come the presents were the same ones I had found. She said they weren’t, she just used the same wrapping paper for our gifts.

Then it all hit me. Mami doesn’t like milk, she doesn’t like Doritos. Her favorite snack combo is Pepsi and chips. Then I realized I had heard voices that one Christmas Eve because while she was setting up our gifts she started playing with them. A huge doll house and Hot Wheels race track, who could blame her?! 

As I get older I look back at those memories fondly. I don’t have any resentment towards my mother for telling me Santa was real. Personally, I don’t consider Santa a lie in the sense that it hurts a child or their relationship with their parent. It was a fun fantasy. I also think mami was very clever thinking on her feet the way she did. She never missed a beat when I had questions about Santa.

I do think she’s wrong about not liking Doritos, though.

When Santa stopped being real