Susie Bright's Journal

I Wish I'd Never Heard of the G-Spot... and Louisiana on My Mind

"Don't you just love these long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - but a little piece of eternity dropped into our hands... and who knows what to do with it?"

-Blanche DuBois, "A Streetcar Named Desire"

Today, on my In Bed podcast, I talk about my enchanted trip this month to New Orleans— my first since the storm. I'm still as in love with this city as the first day, twenty years ago, that I stepped foot into the spellbound eternity that Tennessee Williams describes so well.

You know what struck me about N.O. today? It was a comparison. Look at the rest of the country— we're paralyzed with anxiety about the ensuing economic collapse and environmental chaos. We're so afraid, we smell bad.

In the Gulf, in New Orleans, everyone left standing has BEEN there and DONE that. And they've got the Army Corps of Engineers tattoo on their shingle to prove it.

They've seen the worst; every day is a little bit better. They were abandoned by the federal zookeepers, left for dead, no joke. But you know what? This city won't quit. You can't kill a a bloom that's been seeded for centuries. You can't deny a flood of endurance, nor the hearts that stitched themselves together when no one thought they could keep ticking. This is the Eternal Krewe. They stomp on.

I once said that while the rest of the United States lives and dies on its work ethic, New Orleans survives and thrives on a pleasure ethic. Friends, neighbors, family— and the wee and languid hours you spend with them— that's what makes something last when you're in the middle of a disaster area. You can't buy it, and you can't strive for it. You have to live this way, you have to care about beauty, and ritual, sensuality, and communality.

The fact that Southern Louisiana and Mississippi are still standing, partying, fucking, cooking, and making music together, is testimony to a human spirit that survives out of sheer spite— and true love. This is a community of survivors. They're the early adopters of Armageddon. I found it relaxing.

I got my first decent night's sleep in months, listening to the streetcar roll by. I dreamed such wonderful pleasures. I woke up and the air smelled good.

Sure, everyone has PTSD.  There's an unspoken understanding of giving one another some room to be a little crazy, a little extra time to unfold.  "Be Nice or Leave" said the sign in many bars and eateries I walked into, and I found that advice to be just the right temperature. Everyone's been through so much here, they don't need an impatient fool's conceit or drama.

The formal reason for my appearance in this fair city, was to give a lecture at Tulane University, which I called "Beyond the Vagina," in honor of the 10th anniversary V-Day celebrations that Eve Ensler organized for New Orleans the week I was there.

What's beyond the Vag? Everything, frankly. The anatomy lesson doesn't take that long.

I met hundreds of Tulane students and faculty during my visit, and among many conversations, I asked them to indulge me in  one of my anonymous sex surveys. I ask them, among other things,  to jot down a question that might not be the easiest thing to ask on the mike, in front of everyone.

I've written the complete list here, separated by gender and age.

There's plenty to discuss, and I'll blog more in the coming days. Every campus should have a sex center/hotline/dropin where every single one of these questions gets addressed. None of them are inexplicable!

One thing I've observed lately is that women and men of every age, are obsessed with that erotic unicorn, the Grafenberg-Spot. It's hardly Louisiana; it's an American obsession.

I wish I'd never brought up the darn G-Thingy twenty years ago when I was one of the first to start writing about it. Talk about a backlash....

  Listen to an excerpt 

Listen to the whole show at Audible.com: LINK

Get the show free for a month: LINK

I'll be crunching the rest of my survey numbers in the coming week, and look forward to more sex ed discussions!

Finally, thank you, especially, to the magi-eloquent Crystal Kile, the inspired Charlotte D'Ooge, the revelatory Mimi Schippers, and the silver-tongued Jonno, for their more-than-hospitable care of me during my stay. You know I'm coming back...

In Bed Goodies...Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for free show coupon cards to susie@audible.com. (Episode 337, April 18, 2008)

Photos: Vivien Leigh, from the 1951's Streetcar... and the "Katrina Warriors" from the Newcomb Institute who put Susie on the table.

The Bathroom Sex Sex Survey

Okay, you asked for it!

What is your gender, at least at the moment?

Have you ever had sex in a public bathroom? What did you do? (Define "sex" as you like).

More than once, several times, every day?

Did you have your t-room sex with a man or woman?

Did you know them, or were they a stranger to you?

Have you ever had sex in a "private" bathroom— but one which wasn't at your house?

Have you ever had sex in your own darn bathroom?

Have you had bathroom sex fantasies, never acted upon?

Have you ever run into anyone having bathroom sex, while you were just "doing your business?" Have you ever been propositioned and turned someone down? Was it hard to say, "No, thank you?"

Have you ever run into a high level Republican pol having bathroom sex?

Are you gay? (Just kidding).

We'll make this easy. I'll go first, with my answers in the first comment.

You don't have to use your real name in the comment form.

Just post a fake name and a fake email (like anon@anonymous.com) if you want to keep your privacy.

Of course, you're welcome to take complete and honest credit, as well!

I await your complete and candid disclosure!

There Were Two in the Bed, and the Little One Said, MOVE OVER!

Remember the impertinent line, "Do you like to sleep in the nude?"

Today, the rejoinder has a twist: "Yes, I always sleep in the nude— by myself!"

The Times has ripped the covers off  (sorry!) yet another shocking trend that I seem to be a part of: couples who don't sleep the night together, who have separate beds or rooms to get their forty winks.

Apparently, it's all the rage, but strictly on the QT— as spouses are afraid to give the appearance of not liking each other, or giving up on sex.

If they'd interviewed me, this is what I would've said:

Do you sleep the night with your lover?

No, not since we moved in together, when I was in my mid-30s. I sleep in my own room, and own bed.

What happened?

I was sleep-deprived since my first pregnancy, but when my partner's snoring kept me awake, I lost my last shred of equilibrium. One day I said, "I love you to death, but if I don't get to sleep at night, I'm going to kill you."

Is it all his fault, the snoring?

No. At this point, I can't sleep well with anyone. Not my daughter, not my ex, not my best friends. I'm bad in bed. I look back on the time I slept with six people in a three-person tent on a wood pallet in ten inches of Alaska rain, and think, "How did I do it?"

How does it affect your sex life?

It's essential, it's great. I associate being in bed together with making love, fooling around, cuddling, napping, talking, being close... not agonizing hours lying awake.

It's fun to visit each other's bed chambers. We have really different environments.

So it's not just the bed, it's the whole room?

Yeah, my room is my solace, the place where everything suits me.

Don't you ever accidentally fall asleep together?

Sure, for a few hours, it's delicious. But then one of us always wakes up.

What about traveling?

That's hard. When we visit folks who don't know us well, they look a little alarmed, as if we were getting a divorce. It's only by observing us be affectionate with each other that they relax. I've had lots of people tell me they want to do the same thing, but they're afraid of such a notion being taken as an insult. It's a  silly misapprehension, but I understand... I had to screw up my courage in the beginning, too.

The real hardship is that "two beds" simply demands more room, and I do feel guilty about that. "I'm a spoiled pig, a princess who has to have her forty mattresses and still bitches about a pea." I wish I could sleep through anything, absolutely anywhere, as I did as a kid.

In hotels, we ask for King-size, a fun novelty. I also partake in white noise, earplugs, Ambien for the worst nights, recordings of crickets on the river I took from camping last year, etc.

Did it hurt Jon's feelings when you first asked to separate beds?

He believed me and my intentions— but yes, he thought it was weird, and maybe a bad sign... like, what's next? But that changed really fast. Once well-rested, sanity returns. Now he's just as hardcore, as covetous of his bed as I am of mine.

Do you ever sleep or have sex on your partner's bed when he's not there?

I love to sleep on his bed when I'm missing him, when he's not home. It makes me pine, in a good way.

Solo sex, sure. I feel completely comfortable there. Other people? For some reason, my bed has been the social spot of the house, for chatting, eating, reading, sex, working, whatever. I've think I once had a banquet and simultaneous dance party on my queen-size mattress. My lover's bedroom is more hidden, and quiet— no one goes in there except us. I hadn't thought about that until right now...

Do you, like some of the experts in the article, chalk up  the sleeping separation to your mobility and independence as a "modern" woman?

That was very provocative, but no, it never occurred to me. I thought I was just a hormone-wrecked post-baby lunatic who never bounced back. Every year I become more a fussbudget, as much as I try to hide it. I yearn to be easy-going— both awake and asleep— but apparently I'm just part of the overstimulated mob!

So how are you sleeping?

RU Sirius Tweaks Susie Just For Fun

R.U. Sirius is responsible for my first smart drug overdose. I became unreasonably horny on something that started with a 'G', allegedly from R.U.'s stash.

I was in a recording studio, when someone handed me the glass of Kool-Aid, and... minutes later, I was deeply frenching a woman who was trying to mike me for a serious interview.

I knocked over a table and then had to be put to bed with Playboy magazine, where I collapsed in helpless laughter.

Je regrette rien! My affection has never ended for R.U.'s pioneering spirit, his cyber-magnificent collaborations, and my memories of Mondo2000.

Before last week, I last saw Ken (R.U.) with Kathy Acker at a Robert Redford film screening of Quiz Show— an excellent conspiracy film. I never saw beloved Kathy again, but when R.U. invited me be his guest  on his new freewheeling podcast, I jumped.

Here's a couple audio clips of the fun we had:

Part 1, Excerpt, Life as an Expert Sexpot

Listen to the whole show: Link

Part 2, Excerpt, Experienced Women Talk About Psychedelics and Sex

Listen to the whole show: Link

BlogHer Sex Survey Results

This post is for the women at the Blogher conference that I just attended. We had a session about sex and blogging that I thought was the best, and most controversial session of the gathering.

I decided to throw together  an  Un-Official, Un-Authorized, Blogher Sex Survey! 

If you were at the conference this weekend, please jump in. Everyone else is welcome to read along. I thought it would be interesting to just get a base-line temperature of Blogher sex histories.

(To comment, you can use a fake email address—feel free to be anonymous).

Do you ever write about your erotic life or philosophy on your blog?

Do you use your real name, or are you anonymous?

How old are you?

Do you like men, women, or both?

Do you masturbate?

Do you orgasm?

Do you have sex with a partner/lover these days?

Have you ever been pregnant?

Have you ever had an abortion?

Have you ever had kids?

Have you experienced menopause?

What’s the first erotic/sexy picture or story you ever laid eyes on?

The photos above are all taken by wunderkind Guy Kawasaki at Blogher, and the groovy widgit is from FilmLoop. You'll find me in there, standing next to Phil Hollows of my email alert system, Feedblitz.

The Straight Man’s Guide to Lousy Sex

First, I spoke to women. I responded to the needs of the unheard minority— the gals who have had it up to here with tips on sexual enhancement and would rather find the perfect recipe for sexual renunciation.

I called my new path "erotic contrarianism," and it's a philosophy guaranteed to set you free from all desire in no time at all. But, as many of my new followers pointed out, my original manifesto for a sex-free existence was geared solely toward female devotees.

"What about men?" you ask. "Aren't they also entitled to break the bonds of fleshly rapture?" Well, of course they are! Yet, taking into account how important gender stereotypes are in ruining anyone's sex life, we must approach the male animal with an entirely different strategy from the one we use for the fairer sex.

First of all, no real man can brag that he wants to rid himself of sexual desire, unless he is considering a career in a monastery. Whereas the mature woman can freely boast that she doesn't care if she never has sex again, with almost complete social acceptance the manly man must at least appear to be effortlessly, and inexhaustibly, horny.

Many men are already ambivalent about sexually intimacy, or feel burned out from erotic heartbreak. But to maintain a sufficient masculine image, they must appear to be perpetually on the make. As a result of this ugly form of schizophrenia, we have legions of men who despise women, but will chase skirts into eternity. Here we have the makings of a superb erotic breakdown.

Some of you may be saying, "But Susie, I'm such a cream puff— when I'm between a woman's thighs, and savor her soft body in my arms, I turn into a big love bunny."

Well, my little pet, we must put you on a special regimen. Our goal is to shrink those pesky emotions like a set of hemorrhoids. In no time at all you'll find that you can't get laid to save your life.

Ready to hit bottom? Here we go:

1) Faking it isn't just for girls anymore.

It's not your money shot you should fake— it's the so-called emotional connection that so many pansies insist is simultaneous with orgasm. Say “No” to the that soft center melting in the center of your chest. Disconnect as quickly as possible. Don't let the odd second or two of vulnerability bewilder you!— Get it in and get it off. You'll be thinking about carving the next notch in your belt before you can say Casa-fucking-nova.

2) Accelerate your sexual dysfunction by pretending that you want to score all the time.

Variety may be the spice of life, but mass quantities are where the real bargains and bragging rights become yours forever! The more people you touch only with your penis, the harder it will be to arouse the little fellow— and what an elite company you'll be in. Live for conquest, and soon you’ll be living alone!

3) Obsess about your inadequate dick size.

Measure it; fret over it daily. Bite your lips bloody while you scrutinize those compelling penis-enlargement ads. Sure, they say that the operation is dangerous, and disfiguring— but that's just what all the big-cock guys say to keep the franchise to themselves!

Whether you elect surgery or not, the key is dedicating yourself to relentless feelings of inadequacy. Clearly, your penis is not as big as it should be. And, as everyone knows, it's virtually the only thing women are concerned about. You can hardly open the personal ad section of a newspaper without seeing another long list of chicks advertising their demands: "Single Female seeks penniless, carefree dude with gigantic member."

4) When in public, avoid eye contact.

This is the geek-master's shortcut to never having to worry about unwanted casual connections.

5) If you do find yourself in a "conversation" with a potential partner, make sure it's a one-way dialogue.

You do the talking— all the talking. If she seems about to interrupt you, it's time to cut her off. Take out your cell phone for a nice flourish— accentuate the fact that you don't have the time to listen. Obviously you won't have time to eat her pussy, either.

6) Set an impossible standard for your dream girl; women will be too bamboozled by their own insecurities to question it.

Why should you cast your balls before swine? You know that the only person who could truly appreciate you is last year's Miss September centerfold, and she's probably an old hag by now.

7) Get married.

When I asked real men for suggestions on how best to ruin a guy's sex life, this is the first thing that pops out of their mouths. Not a bad idea! But it only works if you make sure that your bride is someone who was never into sex very much from the first day you met. You want to marry a naif who has no grip on what turns her on in the first place. That way, you can blame your inhibitions on her. She'll be the one who put your sex life on ice, and you'll never have to take the rap. This one stroke alone will also help you to achieve the next step:

8) Hold on to that double standard.

Remember: When choosing a serious partner, avoid those slutty girls who enjoy orgasms and bodily fluids. Find yourself a girl whose "virtue" is beyond compare— literally. Obviously, a woman who likes sex as much as you do will never be good enough to be the mother of your children— save those bad girls for times when you need a guilty little secret.

9) Listen to your peers.

When well-meaning buddies tell you to conform, to avoid sexual and emotional risk, or to doubt your lovers and to expect the worst in love— buy them another drink. Engrave their warnings on your heart. (You may have so-called “friends” who are actually encouraging you to open your heart— they’re obviously losers you want to avoid.)

10) Whoever has the most toys wins the Viagra prescription.

Nothing makes sex more irrelevant than a healthy appetite for material goods. Here you've been worrying about love, when all you needed was a new SUV! A faster hard drive and a precision audio system could make you happy— really. Who needs an ugly erection when you have a beautiful high-yield portfolio?

11) Stay in touch with your masculine side, 24-7.

Big boys don't cry, so don't go all soft on me on a bad day. If you start getting mushy again about your "feelings," we're going to have to remind you that if you're going to feel, you're going to get hurt, and we'll have none of that!

12) Graduation

You’re all set! By the time you've finished this amazing program, I promise you, you'll be hard as rock, inside and out. Some of you may indeed be fortunate enough to have cut yourself off from most of humanity. What a relief.

And for those of you who can't cut it— you big silly love bunnies with a rocket in your pants— give me a ring and leave me your phone number. You obviously need the personal attention that only a trained expert can lavish— excuse me, I mean lash you with.

From Mommy's Little Girl: Susie Bright on Sex, Motherhood, Porn and Cherry Pie. Why do all those Hot Pants Homos get all the girls? I'm sure you've noticed that I love pulp covers. If you have any paperback covers of note you'd like to share, shoot me an email!

How to Ruin A Woman’s Sex Life in 30 Days Or Less

I got a phone call from a Cosmo magazine, asking me to contribute a tip for their upcoming feature, "How to Improve Your Sex Life in 30 Days."  The title of such a venture already gave me some doubts. I hated the whole notion of tightening up your libido the way you would a set of abs.

After a fruitless conversation, I hung up the phone, depressed by their orgasm-indifferent attitude towards women’s sexual pleasure. They thought improving your sex life meant impressing a man, rather than making a significant erotic impression on yourself.

To comfort my wounded soul, I logged on to my freelance writer chat-group online.

"I always get asked the same questions by these women's magazines," I wrote, in the "Pissed-Off" topic. "I wish someone would ask me how to RUIN their sex life in 30 days."

One of my colleagues, Mary Elizabeth, quickly posted her response: "Who needs 30 days?"

How right she is! Destroying your sex life is a snap, compared to enjoying it. I've devised a list of a dozen libido-killing strategies that any seeker of the sex-free lifestyle ought to be able to accomplish well before a month is up.

Ready?

1) Don't admit your sexual desire

Single gals, go ahead and play the dating game all you want— the important thing is to never admit that you have a sexual interest at stake. Shop for the perfect marriage, but make sure that all your efforts are for romance, or God's will. Follow the "Cockteaser Manual” page by page, and rest assured that none of it will make you hot, horny or sweaty. If you make the right match in the proper state of sexual ignorance, you may elude the clutches of lust altogether.

Some of you bad girls who have been around the block may have dabbled in sexual pleasure in the past. It's time to straighten up and fly right. You're a wife and mother now— do you want people to think you're some disgusting slut? If you don't have a headache by now, start sniffing glue.

2) Stay indoors

This is one of those subtle but surefire strategies to shut off unwanted outbursts of sensuality. You don't want to feel the sun on your face. Remember: it's cancerous. Flowers will activate your allergies. Fresh air and exercise might wake your clitoris out of its coma. (If you're the type to stand in the middle of a storm singing "It's Raining Men," there's really nothing we can do for you).

3) Throw your diary in the trash

Self-reflection is a one-way ticket to erotic speculation. One moment you're innocently recording your dreams— and the next thing you know, your pen is scribbling an illicit fantasy. There you are, acting sexy without even taking your clothes off! It's time to stop "expressing yourself," and begin expressing a little self-restraint.

4) Blame it on the kids

This is a tip for the parents among you. If you haven't ceded your connubial bed to your children by now, you are under the mistaken impression that there should be some standard of privacy in your home. You don't want your kids to think that you actually do the deed, do you? Don't make them sick! If the stork was good enough for grandma and grandpa, it's good enough for you.

5) Remember: Your Body Is Disgusting

Take off all your clothes. Look in the mirror while standing directly under a fluorescent light. Notice any flaws? Of course you do— make note of them out loud, and in writing. Now begin a new habit of mentioning those same flaws to your family, friends and acquaintances every single day. Extra points for imposing your self-deprecating remarks on total strangers.

6) Go on every crazy diet you ever heard of

While you surveyed your figure in your mirror, I'm sure you noticed one indisputable fact: you are grossly overweight. I don't care where you tip the scales— the fact is, you're a fat pig. Get cracking, and start that cabbage soup diet. There's enough liquid protein enema solution for everyone. If you've only flirted with anorexia and bulimia before, it's time to get serious. Did you know self-starvers and bingers don't ever have orgasms?

7) Get religion

Embrace a faith which demands that sexual desire be sacrificed to achieve a higher goal. It doesn’t matter whether the aim is enlightenment, a first-class seat at the pearly gates, or a special appearance on your guru’s fund-raising campaign.

Tired of old-fashioned churches? No problem— plenty of New Age disciplines are just as repressive as their Old Age counterparts. Find one of those cults where no one gets laid except for the old codger at the top.

8) Don't play with yourself

‘Nuff said.

9) Buy something

Did you know that every erotic urge can be repressed by a rigorous round of retail therapy? Don't hesitate to buy things that are advertised as something that will make you feel sexy. These unsatisfying purchases will simply titillate you into buying more— and will never, ever, result in your having actual sex. Go out there and shake your moneymaker!

10) Covet what you can't have

Assume an envious position. The more you pout, the less chance you have of noticing any opportunity that does come your way.

11) Give yourself a label and stick with it

Stop fighting stereotypes and start advertising yours. When you're certain you know exactly what box everyone else fits into, you're less likely to ever get out of your own.

12) Shut up

Talking about sex honestly with other people makes most of us uncomfortable. Get a clue, and stop trying to have that conversation! Talking about sex leads to thinking about sex— and before you know it, you're back to step No. 1: thinking you might like to have some someday! Cut it out. Once you've finished reading this map to sexual destruction, for goodness’ sakes, don't mention it to anyone.

From Mommy's Little Girl: Susie Bright on Sex, Motherhood, Porn and Cherry Pie. And I would kill to see that movie with Helen Mirren in her youth. It's not on DVD, is it?

Marriage With Benefits: If It Plays in New York...

Every year New York magazine publishes a "SEX" issue, a lasting cultural artifact of what the "smart set" in Manhattan have to say about their libidos.

Many readers, especially west of the Hudson, say to themselves, "If this is the smart set, god help us." The cutting edge of Upper East Side eroticism is a wee bit more conservative than what might be taking place in California, for instance, or even parts of Brooklyn.

Nevertheless, I read it every year, even if it makes me want to scream.

This year there's a cover story called, "Marriage with Benefits," — the new vocabulary for non-monogamous couples who fuck other people with their wedding bands on.

There's also a story about the current crop of female sex columnists, which gave me pause about what it means to be a sex expert these days.

But back to "The New Monogamy"— here's a story about young lovers who are re-inventing open relationships— they create rules of trust to guide their affairs! Take note, you clueless old polyamourous duffers.

The "rules" are all things you've heard of before, like: "We only do threesomes," "We only fuck around out of town," or "We do condoms with everyone outside of our marriage."

Their true innovation is their nicknames for everything:

Above-the-waist rule
An agreement that any touching above the beltline is fair game.

Body-fluid monogamy
When a couple forgoes the latex with each other but requires it for all outside sexual activity.

Fifty-mile rule
You don't sleep with anyone who lives in your city.

Party bisexual
A woman or a man who engages in same-sex sex-play after multiple martinis.

Trinogamous
To be in a committed threesome

The story keeps on the light side by avoiding the inevitable question, "What happens when your partner breaks one of the rules?" Now that's a story I'd like to read, or write— better yet, edit.

I have my own original slang to add to the New York collection: "Busyogamous." It means you are a major slut in principle, but are too tired and overwhelmed to do anything about it—  I would think is a major problem in New York!

The sex columnist story, The Vagina Dialogs, concerns a crop of New Yorkers who all write sex columns, including one of my pals, Rachel Kramer Bussel. (I was glad to see Rachel wearing her Fuck-Me-Fluevogs in the feature photograph!)

The story, by Amy Sohn, made me reminisce how much the definition of "sex columnist" has changed since I found myself the same occupation in the 80s. 

Back then, sex columns only appeared in randy men's mags. It was esoteric information. You had The Playboy Adviser, which i still love to this day for segueing seamlessly from advice about cunnilingus techniques to Louisiana Flip recipes and stereo hookups. Then you had Happy Hooker Xaviera Hollander at Penthouse.

In the early 80s, a sex educator named Isadora Alman, an alumni of San Francisco Sex Information, started a column in the San Francisco Bay Guardian. It was audacious for its time, because Isadora did not promote herself as either a doctor or a hooker, but rather as  a well-informed, sex-positive woman who was open to kind discussion of every erotic situation. 

Alman encouraged alternative sex and erotic identities of all kinds. She never pathologized a cross-dresser or issued warnings to swingers. it was more like, "Mazeltov!" This was before sex advice got snarky.

In '84, I started a column called "Toys For Us" for a my new magazine, On Our Backs. I started out like a Dear-Abby-turned-dyke-pornographer, with the usual tips and tricks.

I'd never written a column before. It sounded more like a diary than a formal sex column. It was more fun to tell a story that way.

My column grew popular in ways I didn't expect.  I got asked to write a column for Penthouse Forum, and quit my day job at the vibrator store. Then, Salon invited me for their launch. 

About a year later, Salon hired another young woman to write a second sex column, named Courtney Weaver.

I was puzzled by Weaver's debut. Courtney didn't suggest she was an expert or particularly knowledgeable about sex in any way. She was simply a young woman who was willing to dish about her dating life, embarrassing flukes and all. It wasn't pedagogical in the least. it also was not leftwing, not X-rated, or spawned from the old hippie counter-culture. Not one bit.

If you were over 40, it was like listening to a teenager pontificate about sex for an hour— fascinating, but whack. For Courtney's peers, it was a chance to empathize with her qualms about dilemmas like fucking an ex at a Xmas office party. Inquiring minds want to know!

It wasn't as sexually frank as the old sexperts... and it didn't need to be. The Gen Y appetite  for "sex" advice that was more concerned with status anxiety than orgasm.

Courtney's column broke the mold. Although you still have feminist radical smartypants writers like Rachel and Tristan Taormino, (how did she not get in the NY story?) they are the disappearing minority.

The more mainstream sex columnist of today is like Jessica Cutler or Stephanie Klein, who are masters of self-gossip. They haveno interest in "sex-ed" or helping anyone out... it's more like a lovely narcissist with wet panties.

Amy Sohn asks Jessica, "How many lovers do you have currently?"

Jessica answers, "Seven."

"Do they know about each other?"

"Well, they will after this article comes out!"

I like chick candor. But I think the soft flesh is missing from a great deal of the current crop of most-hyped writers.  It's like that book "How To Make Love Like a Porn Star" which doesn't once discuss making love. There's no there there.

These publishing decisions are made by media executives who look at the success of "Sex and The City," and say, "Ah yes! What we need is more chatty, acquisitive, materialistic celebration of the most shallow and superficial elements of sex in our culture."  Bring it on, indeed.

You may read the latest sexgirl's exclamations of exhibitionism (ohmigod i walked down the street without my Victoria's Secret thong and my boss would die if he knew!)  but we never get to hear about the breeze that caresses her cunt, or the intimate risks of trading shopping for sex.

I'll never get sick of a terrific young femme writer, especially when she tackles her desires. But meanwhile, there's about five zillion other types of people we have not heard from. Like straight men, for instance. Or married people. Or women who are having a hell of time masturbating. Or Mommy's.

Someday Gidget is going to grow up. I swear I'm going to publish a new magazine, called "Worn Out Slut." The slogan will be: Je ne Regrette Rien. I have a feeling we're going to be the next wave. I wonder if I can get Dan Savage to write something.

(Top Photo: Phillip Toldeano, Bottom photo: Christopher Griffith, both from NY mag)

The Condom That Could

Common wisdom: Condoms, for all their necessity, inhibit men's sexual pleasure.

Common bullshit:  Wearing a condom makes reaching orgasm impossible for men, and ruins sex. The reason is because the sheath stops men from having the intimate skin-to-skin contact which is imperative for pleasure.

More common bullshit: If you buy the condoms with ribs and dots and swizzles, your lady will really get off because your mighty sword is so fantastically tricked out.

The Honest-to-Dick Truth:

The main reason condoms screw up male pleasure is because— read this carefully:

"tight-fitting condoms bind the glans penis, resulting in restricted sensitivity and loss of stimulation during coitus."

I'm quoting from a current patent fight about condom designs, but their explanation is perfect. The main distress men have with condom use is the friction element going awry.

Furthermore, the color or texture of a condom has always made ZERO difference to women, because— news flash— we can't feel the damn thing in the first place. The vaginal walls do not have sensitive nerve endings. We have no idea which bloody condom your're wearing, and we just pray you have the damn thing secured. If we could "feel" the texture of your condom...holy cow, every woman would die instantly in childbirth, if we had that kind of vagina sensitivity. This is the same reason why the ever-popular bullshit about "vaginal orgasms" is also such a crock.

At the height of the AIDS epidemic, a new condom shape emerged called The Pleasure Plus, that was designed to make men feel pleasure and comfort by changing the silouette of the head. It looks like the letter "P." It doesn't fit tightly on the head of your cock at all— it's more like having an extra foreskin!

I immediately tried it out with my male lovers, and they were shocked. A condom that actually feels different, that honestly affects your arousal and orgasm in a juicy way?— it didn't seem possible.

Condom marketers had been lying for SO LONG, appealing to various macho vanities, but no one had ever made something that truly affected a man's sexual PLEASURE.  Chalk another one up to the puritans.

The problem with the Pleasure Plus was that it went in and out of distribution. Today, in Salon.com, Andrew Leonard has uncovered the story of the Indian inventor who created the Pleasure Plus, (and subsequently two other innovative designs) which has led to a condom war between the companies fighting over his various patents.

Andrew writes:

"Sex expert Susie Bright, the host of "In Bed With Susie Bright" on Audible.com, and a longtime commentator on all things sexual, had never heard of Reddy [the inventor]. But she squeals with delight when told that he had invented the Pleasure Plus.

"I used to hoard them the way Elaine hoarded the Today sponge on Seinfeld, she recalls. "It was the only condom that offered any physical difference whatsoever. I've always said, forget the ribs and colors and all that bullshit. If the point is sensitivity and feeling good, the Pleasure Plus is the only alternative."

Adam Glickman, whose retail store Condomania was the first to sell the Pleasure Plus, recalls Reddy as "a man deeply concerned about condom effectiveness." At the time, Glickman says, "what was so refreshing and different about him was that he wasn't defining effectiveness in terms of safety and reliability, he was defining it in terms of acceptability and pleasure. No one had really defined condom performance so totally under those terms before him."

But despite the great reviews, the Pleasure Plus was hard to find. In fact, almost as soon as it became popular, it disappeared.

"It was a big mystery," Bright says. "We heard all kinds of rumors. It was there and then it was gone."

It turns out the original business went bankrupt. Then Mr. Reddy came out with two other designs that two other companies are marketing, including Trojan, who calls theirs the "Twisted Pleasure." Once Trojan came out with their Reddy-miracle, of course it wiped out the competitive ability of the first two smaller companies.... Trojan is often the only label represented at major drug stores.  This is why there's a lawsuit extravaganza in progress.

I have not tried out the "Inspiral" or the "Twisted Pleasure," the children of the original PP. Have you? It's still a variation of the Pouch-Within-A-Pouch design. I think, from the looks of it, I like the original the best, but I'm hardly the one to decide. I like the simplicity; I don't need the thing to look like a roller coaster ride. But men should be the ones to speak up and say what feels the best.

I resent the notion that you have to sell this thing with a "kinky" name, or imply that it's for party animals. Goddammit, this design should be the basic condom profile for every single rubber made!  The thing that Andrew told me— and explains in his article— is that all those world health and family-planning organizations that promote birth control around the world are not recommending these condoms because the powers-that-be think they're a hedonistic frill.

The world of STD-prevention is SO FUCKED UP. Condoms should be made as easy, pleasureable, and cost-free as possible, distributed en masse to men the world over. Young men should be given a bagful in the 6th grade and told to go home and masturbate with them until they get as smooth and suave as those soldiers who clean their guns with a blindfold on. 

Women should be told point blank that any guy who tells you he can't get off with a condom is either lying, or has never given it so much as a kindergarten try. 

Sure, when you initially try one on, you feel like a clumsy fool. We all felt this way when we first kissed, or tried to have sex, and dealt with our profound awkwardness. Getting your braces caught together is a big limp provocation too, but you don't see people railing against orthodontics for ruining their sex life!

There's all kinds of hassles that go into sexual initiation, but we strive for grace because we are MOTIVATED. And  condoms need to be part of that motivation, because frankly, this barrier method of preventing pregnancy and disease is excellent. There are no side effects. It just does the job. The day I got off the Pill and onto condoms is one of the best health decisions of my life.  Meeting men who know how to use them is an aphrodisiac in itself.

I advise young men who write me, craving the secret to getting laid, to start conversations about how great they think condoms are, how easy they are to use, how relaxing it is to not have to worry about anything, and let your partner just get into sex without fear. Then just start taking names and numbers!

I'm very glad Andrew wrote this story. I'm also pleased to turn you onto Condomania, which has a great web site as well as store in San Francisco. I found this great animated condom fuck film on their web site, which will provide the perfect epilogue to this post!

Sex Survey at MTSU, Part Two

Sex Survey, taken by Susie Bright during her lecture on "Feminism and the Erotic, at MTSU, Tennessee, Sept 29, 2005

Part Two!  Look at yesterday's post for the basic statistics and women's questions.

Men’s Questions

Is waiting until after marriage still a moral value?

Can you get rid of a fetish?

As a Catholic, I find it hard to shirk many of my lessons learned and enjoy sex. Do you have a similar experience?

What is thought when you’re aroused by something that you do not agree with?

I believe homosexuality is wrong, but I have many friends who are homosexual. Does that make me hypocritical?

How does one release the taboo around sex? Make it more open and easer to talk about and experience without the anti-slut response?

What would a radical feminist response about current porn be now, as opposed to when porn was first coming out?

How do you make a woman feel really good?

Do you feel media consumerism preoccupied with sex is primitive, not progressive?

Have you ever been in a porn movie?

Do you think any porn out there is bad? Degrading? Filthy? Perverse? Towards women in general?

Why is porn still so taboo yet so popular?

What do you think of contact between human and animals?

Since this is the Bible Belt, did you tone down or self censor your thoughts in any way?

Would you consider pedophilia an appropriate form of sexual expression?

What do you think of Howard Stern?

I  think sex is a private matter that should stay within the context of marriage only.

Some guys say they don’t masturbate, but what about when they ejaculate, anyway?

What’s your favorite sexual position?

Are you satisfied with your sex life?

Are you for, or against, gay rights?

I want to have sex, but I haven’t yet. I have not found the right person yet. What would you do?

How do you feel about “Suicide Girls?”

My greatest fantasy is sex with two women at once. Why is that so hard to find?

Did you fall into liberal sexuality to find your identity as a unique person, and then continued because it pays well? Do you feel like a tool of the far left?

What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?

What part of the day is best for having sex?

How many people have you had sex with?

Why do some women never have an orgasm?

What are good resources to read regarding porn vs. erotica?

How many people have you had sex with?

Are there less painful ways to have gay anal sex?

How do you think shows like “Sex and the City” have changed the view of sexuality, and is it a view that you agree with, or think women should?

What’s your favorite position?

Have you made love to a midget?

How many continents have you done it on?

What is considered explicit?

Have you decided yet whether your best experience is with a man or a woman?

Do you think people are really bisexual? Do you believe that?

How old were you when you first thad any kind of sexual experience with another human?

Do you know that God ordained sex as an art that is pure, and meant for only two people, male and female?

Why is it that girls deny masturbation?— when later you find out that they are doing it?

Sex as a word had a very distinct aura about it, at least publicly. Does that change over time?

What would you consider a healthy sex life?

Have You Done it? — How Many Times?

One question that came up a lot, especially with the young men, was ‘How many people have you— Susie— slept with?”
 
I get that question everywhere I go, among youthful audiences. It’s something students usually offer, to deflect attention from their questions about their own sex life or erotic thoughts.  It puts the attention on me in a titillating way, and avoids anything vulnerable on their part. 

The notion of how many notches you have on your belt, is the preoccupation of the sexually inexperienced. It’s the kind of thing you ask when you’re a virgin, or you’re just having your first partner-sex experiences. Older people, sexually experienced people, never ask me this question.

I felt preoccupied with the same question myself when I was young and had my first lovers. I was obsessed with how old I was, how old they were, whether I had an orgasm, and whether I thought I was in love. I kept a list in my diary. I kept my “records” in secret code, and the codes kept changing because my definition of “great sex” and “in love” changed with each new affair. About the second year of my love life, however my relationships grew more intimate, serious, and complicated. Heartbreak became an issue for the first time. I forgot about my list.

“Having sex”? I realized that could mean so many things, and have so many after-lives. I actually don’t know the answer to “how many” people I’ve “had sex” with, not because the number is so shocking, but because the quality, diversity, and nature of my erotic connections  superseded the quantity. By that, I don’t mean that I’ve had superior sex— I’ve had as many bad or awkward times as anyone— it just means the numbers don’t tell the story.

The Rather Orgasmic Women of MTSU

My final observation about MTSU is the most surprising to me. This group had a really high number of orgasmic, masturbating women, compared to the schools I’ve surveyed in the last ten years. The school surveys I’ve done recently show that almost a quarter of the young women say they don’t have orgasms, or masturbate. Here at MTSU it was only 12-14%.

My first conclusion is that my talk just attracted all the “I’m a Sex-Positive Orgasmic Feminist, Dammit!” types at the school. But my talks generally do that, everywhere I go.

My second thought takes me to the recent survey we saw in the news this year, about how Chastity Pledges in the Bible Belt are not stopping young people from having sex, or getting married/preganant/divorced, any earlier than they would have without the Chastity Pledges. They’ve been a giant flop, except for 7th graders. 

Repressive Christian antisex campaigns seem to force people to be sneaky, but sneaky sex is wildly popular. Virginity is revered, and yet routinely violated.

Sex in your teenage years is a double-edged deal. On one hand, coercion and peer pressure can be an ugly issue. In some cases, it’s debilitating.

On the other hand, teenagers have powerful sexual desires, and hormones a’plenty. If young women had more power, they’d certainly resist date rape and abuse more effectively, but they’d be just as certainly eager for orgasms, sexual excitement, and erotic power, just like the boys are.

This is the ironic thing:  this group of women, statistically, is more sexually savvy and orgasmic than their peers in other types of universities, because they’ve already had some sexual experiences under their belts. Not just one night stands either, or drunken “what-the-hell” episodes. They’ve had sexual RELATIONSHIPS, where you get to practice enought to get good at it.

Conversations I Wouldn't Have at Harvard

One conversation I had with a young married woman of 24 illustrated this:

“Oh, I married when I was 20, and I have changed so much. I tell the girls who are 22 and engaged, ‘No, stop, you’re too young,’ because they have no idea how much it will change everything. My husband and I have been in love, we’ve had an open marriage, we’ve been separated, we’ve been back together, I’ve thought I was bi, now I’m not so sure. The sex is so much better now than it was when we first got together. But we’re still not sure what we’re going to do, even today... Because great sex and living together with someone are two entirely different things.”

Another 21 year old woman, who’s doing very well in school, asked me about how to address sex education with her first-grade daughter:

“I have no role models for what to do... Are you kidding? When I told my mother I was pregnant when I was 15, she said, ‘Oh God, it was your first time, right?’  And I said, ‘Uh, no.’ And then she said, ‘But at least you know who the father is, right?’ And again I had to say, ‘I’m not really sure.’ My mother raised us Pentecostal, and if she hadn’t been getting chemo when I told her, she would have killed me.”

She laughed—she had no angst. As she kept talking, I realized that she has a loving relationship with her family, and she has a lot of sexual self-confidence. She didn’t back then, she does now. It worked out over the years. She's a devoted mother, as well as student.

You compare this to a typical young woman I might meet through my research at an Ivy League university. She has had no sexual experience at age 21. She has a very romantic notion of what it’s going to be like. It’s unrealistic, just like a younger teen might have. She is likely to have wealthy parents and a moderate or liberal religious upbringing, if any at all. She is twice as likely to not have masturbated or achieved orgasm. She is very likely to have an eating disorder that has affected her libido and periods, a topic that didn’t come up once in my crowd at MTSU.

I hope you look at my comparisons with the same poignancy that I do. I don’t wish suffering or hardship on anyone, just because it gives you “maturity.” There’s no guarantee that sex at any age is going to work out one way or another. Young women everywhere are still much less sexually self-possessed than young men. The South is not some hotbed of wild orgasmic women— although that’s a inspiring fantasy! 

Class and Sex ... What It Means to Be a Grown-Up

In some ways, the experience of the students of working-class origins at MTSU remind me of the Mexican-born high school students  I recently interviewed in central California, the children of  agriculture workers. They share, because of their family’s economics, a little more “adult” experience than the children of the well-to-do. They see sexual relationships, family, children, jobs, driving and getting yourself where you need to go, etc. , as  equal parts of growing up, which is highly esteemed— in fact, essential. 

While the middle-class or working-class Southern woman freshman might envy the Ivy League student’s luxuries of privilege and  protection, the Ivy League girl wishes she had more sexual wisdom, independence, and self-knowledge that comes with actual relationship experiences, outside of her parents. She wants, and yet fears, being out of the cocoon.

Peter Pan Doesn't Make It

What *I* would like to see doesn’t exist in any region or class. I want young women and men to have chances to explore their genuine sexual feelings, with knowledge, creativity, and protection. I want their parents to give them privacy and respect and the stuff they need to protect themselves, whether that’s condoms or dignity.

Yes, I know this is a fantasy. But I have a kid too, and this is the only thing I can think of that makes sense.

I don’t want young people to have to get married and divorced to find out the first thing about sex. I don’t want them to get pregnant when they’re still babies themselves.

Yet I also don’t want them to be 30 years old and still wondering what an orgasm is, or if they can stop being ashamed of themselves for having sexual desire. I don’t want them to starve and never be sexual, or only understand sex as part of a black-out drinking episode.

My wish is not just a short-sighted desire for sexually fulfilled young people to get their jollies— although that deserves more respect than it gets. It’s heavier than that, though. We need to figure out sex in order to carry the mantle of our years. Peter Pan is incapable of being an elder, a mentor, or nurturer.

Sexually immature adults can’t imagine raising children, because they can’t deal with growing up themselves. They think of children as accessories, and we can see the mess that’s create. Do we always have to choose between shame-filled exploitation or infantile narcissism?  There’s got to be a younger generation that can knock that rock and a hard place to dust.