Unless you own a private plane with a bed in the cabin, having sex in an airplane has got to be the lamest sexual fantasy ever. Not to mention corny. And tacky. If you want to do it in public, do it in a park or an alley like decent people. I find its apparent popularity confounding. There are websites dedicated to tales of airborne debauchery, which all read like the ridiculous letters sections of soft-core porn magazines, where some unemployed former Blockbuster manager just can’t believe he had a threesome with two 19-year-old Icelandic snowboarders hitchhiking through Alabama. This is to say, I have never believed any story anyone has ever told me about putting the “cruise” in “cruising altitude.” At least, I’ve never believed any story that makes it sound hot, or desirable, or like anything that doesn’t make me want to pour myself a Lysol bath. Keep reading »
“I was always daddy’s little girl. We did everything together. He was my hero. My father was always there with a hug for me; when I was little, he let me climb all over him like he was a jungle gym.
And then my body changed. I developed early; I had boobs by 11. And all of a sudden, my Dad stopped hugging me or touching me. He went overnight from being my best friend to being remote and critical.”
I read that in a student’s journal earlier this semester (quoted with permission). I’ve read and heard similar things countless times over the course of nearly 20 years teaching gender studies and doing youth ministry. Ask any family therapist who works with teen girls, and they’ll report the same thing I’ve heard: story after story of fathers withdrawing physical affection as soon as their daughters hit puberty. Keep reading »
In my office, Amber is telling me a familiar story. She’s come to talk about her autobiography paper for my women’s studies class, and she reads part of her rough draft aloud.
“I was 12, and this car pulled up alongside me as I was walking home from school … the driver looked a little older than my dad, at least 40. He leaned out, and I thought he was going to ask me for directions, but instead he asked me how old I was. When I told him, he laughed. ‘Damn, you got some big titties for such a little girl.’ He made this gross smacking sound with his lips, and sped away. I ran all the way home.”
Amber looks up at me. “I want to know,” she asks, “why do older men hit on younger women?” She’s 20 now, tall and graceful; she tells me that for the last eight years, older men have been approaching her. “It’s not just me,” she adds, “it happens to most of my friends, almost regardless of what they look like or what they’re wearing. It makes me feel like I can’t trust anyone, like all men want just one thing. Why can’t they chase women their own age?” Keep reading »
Advice is a past mistake regifted. So I’m enjoying Christmas in March. Everyone I know has offered me advice about getting over a breakup and each piece of advice is a piece of personal pain with a ribbon tied around it. I appreciate it, of course. I listen dutifully and say “I hadn’t thought of that,” which is a well-meaning bit of boilerplate that I am practiced at saying. My dad used to always joke that once a man became a father, he surrendered any right to expect holiday and birthday presents that he actually wanted. Fathers get socks and ties. So every time he got socks or ties, which was often, he’d chuckle and say, “This is exactly what I wanted.” He wasn’t disappointed, because the real gift of receiving a gift is in the wide-eyes of the giver. I am deeply thankful for all of the advice. Keep reading »
I read a blog post earlier this month that sounded a familiar refrain: Are single women too independent for their own good? Women’s magazines ask that question, men’s magazines ask that question, and the answer is almost always the same: yes. Keep reading »
If you’ve turned on a TV since 1998, you know how obsessed we are with hard-ons. Since the little blue pill appeared more than a dozen years ago, countless imitators of varying legitimacy and effectiveness have hit the market. Ads for drugs that promise to cure erectile dysfunction run nonstop during sporting events, and the sales of these medications generate hundreds of millions of dollars a year. We watch these ads and pop these pills without ever considering that the periodic inability to get an erection could be the best thing that could happen to our sex lives.
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