There I was, minding my own (lady-)business, happily masturbating with my Laya Spot, when the cat hopped up on the bed. He rubbed against my leg, purred, made eye contact with me. Held eye contact with me.
That’s it: the moment is killed. I can’t get it off when the cat is in my bed, certainly not while we’re making eye contact.
Unfortunately, domesticated animals are not the only ways Nature conspires against us from enjoying some very special alone time. Ranked from tolerable to worst, here are all the crappy ways to end a masturbation session:
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My college best friend and I coined the term “bipolar week.” It was used to describe a week filled with both overwhelmingly amazing events and truly terrible moments: winning a prestigious award and then getting dumped by your boyfriend, or perhaps acing a midterm and losing a childhood pet. When reflecting on this past week, in terms of LGBT rights, I could really only describe it as a week “having or relating to two poles or extremities.” The highs: two cases before the Supreme Court to treat gays and lesbians like, you know, actual people.
The low you ask? Well the low can be found in Kansas. It’s so ridiculous it might as well be a perverse Oz: a bill passed in the State Senate which has language that would quarantine those who are HIV-positive or have AIDS. I would insert a Judy Garland joke about being a gay icon, but this is really not a laughing matter. It’s completely f**ked! Keep reading »
“Seven, eight, nine and 10-year-old children [who are eating chicken] are having their feminine hormones accelerated … and are starting to become homosexual.”
– Colombian model Natalia Paris on her theory that the hormones in chicken are making kids gay. Should we laugh? Cry? Shame her? I think we should shame her. Have at it in the comments. And in personal protest to this statement, I will be eating chicken for lunch to amp up my gayness. I urge you to do the same. [MSN]
This week’s issue of The New Yorker includes a feature by Margaret Talbot, on the rise of young kids and teenagers identifying as transgender. While the concept of transgender isn’t new, there’s a trend emerging; kids as young as three are identifying as trans. Depending on the openness and support of their parents, many of these kids are begin to transition before they even reach puberty.
Talbot’s article opens with the story of Skylar, an attractive and popular teenage boy who just happens to have been born a biological female. Skylar was open with his parents from the beginning about feeling like he was born in the wrong body, and thankfully, they supported his decision to live happily and healthfully as a boy. Still in high school, he got “top” surgery to remove his breasts, but doesn’t plan on getting bottom surgery. What’s more, his identifying as trans wasn’t some desperate desire to make his gender match up with a heteronormative sexuality: Skylar now identifies as a gay man.
“The whole sexuality thing never seemed like a big deal.” he says. “I never came out to anybody as gay. Sometimes I forget that coming out in terms of sexuality is a big deal.”
Skylar is lucky: again, his parents are supportive, and he happens to live in a liberal suburb of New Haven, Connecticut, where his school and friends were, if not enthusiastically supportive, at least respectful of his choice. Many, many, many transgender kids are not so lucky, and we’d be remiss to ignore their reality — one study reports that 41 percent of transgender people attempt suicide at some point.
When I came out as a lesbian, my mom cited my rabid N’Sync fandom as evidence that I was obviously mistaken. She was certain that my liking a group of effeminate, nearly prepubescent boys, gyrating to songs about feelings was indicative of my heterosexuality. I’ve used that story as the punch line to my coming out for years. But just recently, I’ve found myself yet again defending my sexual preferences to my own peers in light of some my pop culture life choices, namely “Magic Mike.”
I’m going to go right out there and say it: Channing Tatum is a rhythmic god. Don’t pretend you don’t like dance movies, specifically “Step Up,” or that you haven’t spent time in front of the mirror trying to perfect your own moves after seeing him effortlessly slide across that stage and into the laps of awaiting women. And, sure, maybe my seeing a movie about male strippers multiple times seems a little suspect, seeing as the audience was predominately straight women acting as though they were at the bachelorette party of their lives. I will tell you that I found my jaw on the ground through the majority of the movie. So what? Keep reading »
Simply put, I have been boy crazy since elementary school.
Men have always been the ones I kissed, fellated, fucked, Skype-sexed, you name it. All of my sexual experiences and struggles coming to terms with my sexual kinks have involved cisgendered men.
But until recently, there was a side of myself that lay dormant so long it would probably more appropriate to call it “stagnant.” It was a side of myself that I didn’t act upon out of fear of what would happen: the one that had sexual and romantic feelings for women. Keep reading »