Tenga Egg Review

I got a Tenga Egg from Good Vibrations!

You might be asking yourself why I would choose a male masturbator as my first toy to review. You might be thinking that I do not have a bio cock (although I do have a few less-sensate ones in my drawer at home) and therefore might not be able to write a detailed review of this kind of product. You might then conclude that I've used it with one of my male partners, but you'd actually be wrong!

You see, there is an off-label use for this adorable, single-use masturbation sleeve. One that benefits me, and my clitoris, more directly.

I like to use a Hitachi Magic Wand as my go-to toy for masturbation. It stays plugged in and tucked down to the side of my bed at all times. I pull it out pretty much nightly for a little release before I go to sleep. It's good shit.

However, I've got a very (very) sensitive clit and while I like the penetrating vibes of the Hitachi, it's a little too strong to touch directly to my fine skin. I usually use it through a comforter or a folded piece of quilt so as to dull the sensation just a little bit.

This method, however, is a little cumbersome and not particularly sexy to look at. If I'm going to be Skype-sexing with someone, I want to look hot while I'm masturbating and still be able to get off.

Thus, the Egg! While I could take advantage of its super-stretchiness on whoever's whatever-sized dick, I instead tried flipping it inside out and putting it over the head of my Hitachi.

This had a few perks. The Egg was just thick enough that I could indeed use the Hitachi on my clit without any other intervening layers. I also got the "Stepper" version of the Egg, which has triangle-shaped nubbins all over the inside. With the included lube, these added a nice texture to my masturbation session.

Because the Eggs are single use, or at least single-person use without involving a condom, I'm not going to end up trying it with a dude. Maybe I'll get another one someday and give that a go. It did, however, work very well as a Hitachi cover and I'd therefore recommend it as a good accessory for those whose clitorises (clitori?) are sensitive like mine.

I Wanna Do Porn

I have actually wanted to do porn for a long time.

I'm like a sexual energizer bunny. I like to and can have sex for long periods of time. I'm an exhibitionist. I love, love, love to be watched while I'm naked and especially while I'm having sex. I'm enough of a narcissist that I like to see myself in photos and on film. I've enjoyed the relatively tame but sexy photo shoots I've done so far.

I've considered being in porn, the good kind that I like, for years. Half the people I know from San Francisco when I worked at the peep show and porn-star-owned gallery have been in things like the The Crash Pad Series or NoFauxxx.com or Cocksexual.com or Kink.com or whatever. I know the right people to do it in a way I'd feel good about, and I think it'd be pretty fun.

I know that acting in porn isn't all it might seem. It's kind of athletic work, it's stop and go, you have to cheat out to the camera, etc. I think I might actually like that, though. I enjoy a performance. I like working hard, including working hard with my body and working hard in sex. It's likely enough that I at least want to try it.


The thing about porn is that once you do it, it's out there forever. This is even more true since the dawn of the internet. Once my face and naked, fucking body are recorded in any medium, I can't ever take that back. I would of course use Paradox, my chosen name, but a face is a face. I could be recognized.

With stripping and with domming, I could do the work and then walk away. There wasn't much of a record of what I'd been doing. I wrote about it here, sure, and the barrier between my blog and my real name isn't THAT high. But nobody could take the product of that work home with them, or send it to someone else. There wasn't really proof I'd been doing it, unless somehow a client snuck a photo. (This never happened, to my knowledge.) Nobody would know unless I told them.

This fact has stopped me so far. I may at one point want to work with adolescents. One of the options I might like to pursue in sex education is teaching the teens who need it most how to navigate sexuality and relationships. I want to leave that open for myself. The stigma around porn could really hurt my chances.

On the other hand, when have I ever bowed to a stigma? When have I let other people's false ideas about an activity stop me from doing it in my own way? When, if I feel comfortable and happy about something I want, have I paused in pursuing it just because someone told me I shouldn't? It's rare, and I don't like giving in that way.

It's certainly a dilemma. Any input?

What Antidepressants Have Been Doing for Me

I wrote a lot about my decision to start taking Wellbutrin in June, about my fears and hopes surrounding the drug and about the experiences that prompted me to finally seek chemical assistance. I haven't, though, followed up to tell you what it's been like for me to take that pill ever day, what kinds of effects it's had on my emotions and my life.

The easy answer is that it's been awesome and very helpful.

In more detail: taking the medication does in fact make it easier not to sink into the moods I used to fall into so quickly. I can still react to things, I'll still get upset if something is upsetting, but it passes much more quickly. I react, I feel, and then I get over it. Before the meds, a relatively small thing could send me into a funk for days. When a few bad things happened in a row, that was a depressive episode waiting to happen. That feeling of looming despair is almost gone.

I've also only had one migraine since starting these pills. That is remarkable. For a while there, I was getting one every month.

My migraines are incredibly debilitating; I get blind spots, flashing lights, numbness in one or more of my limbs and sometimes my face, complete disorientation, inability to come up with words, splitting headache, dizziness, exhaustion, sensitivity to light and sound, and nausea. I can't work or do much of anything for the first four hours of a migraine, and am sometimes slowed down for days afterwards. So yeah, I'm happy to be having fewer of those.

The pills have also definitely been helping my ADHD. I didn't notice this as much through direct ability to focus better, which is sort of hard to track, but I noticed its lack when I missed a few pills the other week. I forgot, like, four things I was supposed to do for my boss and couldn't concentrate for shit. That's been better now that I'm on top of my meds again.

I've also had no side effects, so altogether I'm a happy camper. It's hard to believe it's taken me so long to take the step, but I know I did it at the right time, in my own time. I can't really ask for more than that.

Fun Pubes

Do I really need to comment much?

I had a really fun evening with a newish boy who happened to have some "Fun Betty" dye and a delightful sense of humor. He also dyed his own hair blue, pink, and green. Our new code names are Roy G. Biv and Cranberry Muffin.

I'm very pleased with my newly matching carpet and drapes. Very.

P. S. The dye includes bleach, and you don't put it anywhere near your labia, just on the upper triangle of hair that shows when your legs are closed. I wouldn't be endorsing a sad-vulva product. Just don't put bleach on your girly bits, okay?

The Privilege of Parental Love

Allison Moon wrote a great post about a new kind of privilege she realized she carries.
Growing up I never had to wonder if my parents loved me. I never doubted they respected me or my choices. I never felt abandoned or ignored or dismissed. My folks have had to deal with a lot of information in their parenting lives. I’ve come out as bisexual, then lesbian, then queer, then polyamorous, then partnered to a queer, poly, cis-man. I think they stopped paying too much attention after “queer.”

...Listening to the speeches at the [annual LA Gay & Lesbian Center Gala], I became acutely aware of another privilege: parental love. Parental love means that I never had to apologize to my family for who I was and who I wanted to be. Parental love meant that I was only girl in my catholic school to wear pants, with my mom’s enthusiastic blessing. It meant that when I told them I wanted to quit my job to write a novel, they told me what a great writer I was and how proud they were of me. I means that they still send some of my blog posts to their friends to brag about me, even though a lot of my choices aren’t exactly easy for them to read about. It means that no matter where I am in the world, and what kind of life I lead, I can always, always go home to my parents if I need to.
If there's a single kind of privilege that I feel more definitely than any other, it's this. So many people I've known, including some of the closest friends and lovers I've had, did not have any kind of support from their parents. They had to make their way alone, without any kind of financial or emotional safety net from their families of origin. I've always had that net.

I've got a kind of certainty in my actions that I know leads to my success in many ways. I can approach jobs or relationships with the attitude that I will always be okay. I know that my parents will be there to catch me no matter what happens.

This saves me from an air of desperation that I know can undermine people in so many ways. I come off as confident and capable, which I know is attractive. I've been given a lot--jobs, good grades, forgiveness--as a result. Hell, probably the biggest reason I got out of my abusive high school relationship before it turned physical was that he couldn't succeed in undermining my relationship with my parents. They were too loving and accepting and too much a voice of reason against his attempts at control.

I think this privilege of parental love affects me even more meaningfully than the fact that my parents are wealthy. It wouldn't matter much what their net worth was if they didn't use any of it to support me. I've known plenty of people from families richer than mine who enjoyed less of the resulting privilege because their parents were unsupportive assholes.

This kind of privilege is emotionally fraught. It's even more awkward to talk about my supportive parents with folks whose families aren't like that than it is to talk about having money with someone who grew up poor. I guess, ultimately, emotional wealth does carry more weight than monetary wealth. I'm just glad Allison pointed it out, because I think the most important thing with privilege is to be aware of it and to use it for the greater good. Now maybe I can find ways to do that.

Poly Times Six

Another reason I've been a naughty blogger lately is that I've been going on dates (I could say "dating" but dear god, people read a lot into that) with six people. Yes, six. I see them all regularly. And I like all of them. This doesn't leave me with a lot of free time.

The thing is, see, six really is a lot of people. Even for me. I've been poly and single for years now, but usually I level out around two or three regular lovers. I've been having a great time and enjoying the company and connections, but in the last couple of weeks I've suddenly felt a bit dissatisfied.

The problem with seeing so many people is that it doesn't leave me with a lot of time for any particular one. It's hard to develop deeper intimacy with someone when I only see them at most once a week. And it's hard to see someone more than once a week when I've got five other people I need to keep up with. As fun as my relationships are, and as much as I do really like all the people I'm seeing, my schedule keeps things superficial.

What I didn't realize until a couple of weeks ago was that, as much as I had theoretically been wanting a more serious relationship for a long time, I hadn't really been ready for one. For the last several years, I've been dealing with huge transitions: graduating college, living on my own for the first time, moving across the country, etc. I was also in a very emotionally complicated relationship and I hadn't realized how little energy that left me for anyone else.

For most of the past year, I felt very much in need. I needed physical comfort from sex and beatings and cuddles, a safe place to go that wasn't my apartment, someone to feed and take care of me while I was caring for my roommate, somebody to advise me on how to be an adult, emotional support while I dealt with the stress and changes. I was a big bundle of longing and I didn't have that much to give.

This is not a very good place from which to approach a relationship. Outsourcing those needs to several people, spreading out the load and doing a lot of work on my self by myself, worked really well when I felt this way. It kept me from feeling lonely while giving me the space I needed to figure out my own shit.

Now that I've settled into my adult life, live in a comfortable and safe place, and have "broken up" with my old roommate, I'm suddenly feeling more self-sufficient. I actually feel pretty happy, and like I've got the time and energy to focus on someone else and to take the risk of letting myself truly be seen. I'd like to explore the deeper intimacy that I haven't experienced since I was with my ex two years ago.

Of course, I can't just say "Okay, I'm ready for a relationship now!" and then magically I'm in one. But I am carefully setting a new intention and sharing my new desires with my partners. The time limitations are still tricky, but at least with this new intention I'll be able to base the amount of time I spend with a particular person on the extent to which we're developing deeper intimacy.

This all amounts to another transition, but with this at least I feel prepared and deliberate. And I'm excited about the future and the possibilities.

Autumn, and Changes to go with the Season

Woo boy, it has been quite a month.

Things for me have been changing so quickly it's a little hard to keep up with myself. I mentioned moving in my last post, but didn't even scratch the surface of what that's meant for me. Being in a new place has given me not only new roommates but also new goals for my immediate future and desires in my relationships.

I moved to New York City just over a year ago to live with one of my best friends, a woman with whom I've had a long and complicated relationship. (I've only alluded to it here). Over the five years we've known each other, we've had sex a couple of times, we've stopped being friends for six months, we've each fallen in love with and then been rejected by the other, I've been more livid with her than I'd been with anyone in years, and we've been at times inseparable. She's someone I deeply care about, but she's also a person who is very hard to love. She invites chaos into her life, and supporting her through that treads dangerously close to enabling.

Finally moving out of our apartment felt like a break up; while our relationship hasn't been sexual since we've lived together, I've realized it was essentially romantic. I was committed to her, and to a degree of taking care of her. In describing the situation to my friends and lovers, I've sounded like a chick lit divorce book. "The reasons we were together just aren't there anymore, and even though we care for each other, we've got too much baggage to work through."

I've made a very serious effort to be compassionate and supportive with her through my departure. I want to stay friends now that we're apart, but it's been a big transition. I suspect it's been hard for both of us.

I'm also miles happier in my new place and with my roommates than I've been at home for a very long time. It was difficult for me to feel safe or serene in the apartment I just left. (Example of why: A friend of my roommate's who was there nearly all the time cut her with broken glass and stole $500 from me.) It's tough for me to feel comfortable in my parents' house. And a college dorm is only partly a home. This, I think, is the first time I've felt truly comfortable in my space, like I belong there and it belongs to me.

It's huge. Without feeling stressed at home and drained by a dysfunctional relationship, I've got so much more emotional energy. Now I can devote myself to my own growth, to deepening my relationships (which I'll write more about in my next post), and to thinking about and planning what I'm doing with this here life of mine. And of course to writing here, which I'm going to try and do more of now that I'm settled.
On living, loving, learning, and fucking with the materials I've got at hand.

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