Making Reading Sexy the Roman Scandal Way...

Last Sunday my friend Zaana and I did a photo shoot on the theme of "Sexy Grad Student" which I'm not yet, but I've been spending a lot of time getting my paper ready for the Moral Panics of Sexuality Conference next week, so I am feeling a bit like a bookworm. My style concept was glasses, comfy sweater, sexy stockings, and lots of books. The books I posed with ranged from tomes penned by Germaine Greer to Susie Bright to JWoww (Yeah, really. Does that count as 4th wave feminism?). These are all books I consider sexy, written by sexy women! Unfortunately the light was bad (rainy day) so not all the shots turned out as planned, but we got a few good ones.

My sister says I look like my mom in this one. My mom is beautiful, but bite me.

I'm rather sleep deprived, and it shows. But that's part of grad student chic.

I think the John Waters quote above pretty much nails it, but I think we also have to make reading SEXY. If PETA can get Jenna Jameson to pose for their ooky campaigns, why isn't the ALA recruiting Nina Hartley and other super smart porn stars to pimp reading? (God, how amazing would that be?) I guess they'll have to make do with my nerdy pinups for now.

Couple other things:

I'vegot a new essay about preferring G Spot stimulation to Clitoral stimulation on Eden Cafe. IT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND. (Maybe.)

That's all for now...

I'm bringing Hanky back....

This is how to flag as a femme. Photo by Daniel Butler.

My friend @mutilato and I recently had a discussion about the Hanky Code and whether it should be brought back. (I don't think it ever went away in some circles...)

To the uninitiated, the hanky code is a system of wearing a colored handkerchief in the back pocket of your pants to indicate sexual preferences and top/bottom status to facilitate cruising at a bar or club. This started out in the gay leather scene, where this sort of sexual shorthand was probably easier and sexier for tricking in loud, crowded bars than trying to have an elaborate conversation with a stranger who may or may not share your interests.

The hanky code works like this: each color symbolizes a fetish or sex act. Wear the hanky on right side, and you'll bottom for that activity, wear it on the left and you'll top for it. If you switch I guess you have to wear a hanky on both sides, which seems a little tiresome to me.

This code was adapted by leatherdykes in the '80s with some new colors added (maroon= menstruation fetish!) and kinky pansexual players as well. I personally find flagging very exciting because it helps me get in touch with the gay male aspect of my genderqueer identity. (Or call it "appropriation," I don't give really a shit.)

Femmes have specific challenges for flagging if you prefer skirts and dresses to skirts.  I saw one lady Domme tuck them into the back of her leather skirt, and I like to wear a belt with dresses or blouses that I can tuck my hankies into. I was thrilled when someone at a club told me they "had to meet me" because "I'd figured out a way to flag while wearing a dress." My friend T., who looks like a grown-up, kinky version of Rizzo from Grease, showed me these clever hanky barrettes on Etsy, and T. has been known to flag by tucking aptly-colored chiffon scarves into the neckline of her dresses. 

The main problem with the hanky code is that it got way too complicated. Who can remember fifty+ permutations of colors, fabrics and patterns. The early hanky codes started with ten basic colors (mostly my selections listed below) and then people started getting creative. Red and white gingham for picnic table sex fetishist! Five shades of purple that all mean drastically different things, replete with pantone color codes to help you make the distinction! In a dark bar, how can you be sure whether someone is flagging yellow (watersports), mustard (size queen), or gold (threesomes)? (What  next, sea foam for Martha Stewart roleplay? This is rough trade, not interior decorating, bitches!) I don't want to be hierarchical about which fetishes are more important for flagging, but seriously, if there is anything more than ten colors and various shades of the same color, and there's too much potential confusion. So let's bring back the OG, simplified hanky code!

These were my proposed color selections for the hanky code revival:

1. Black- S&M

2. Grey- Bondage and restraints

3. Red- Fisting

4. Orange- Anything, Anytime, Anywhere

5. Yellow-Water Sports

6. Kelly Green- Hustler, play for pay (more relevant in some scenes than others)

7. Light Blue-Oral Sex

8. Dark Blue- Anal Sex

Mutilato says the following colors should also be included in addition to what's mentioned above:

9. Purple- Piercings- piercing fetish, or play piercing

10. Brown- scat play. I left this out because I am admitted squicked by this and can't imagine it has a huge following, though I might be wrong. OTOH, if you're a member of this small majority it might be hard to meet others that share your interest (and bringing it up in conversation might scare off tricks) so maybe it would be useful for scat fans to flag for tricking.

11. Teal- Cock and Ball Torture

I think flagging should be considered a general stepping off point for tricking in public. Having this shorthand makes it easier to spot who is available for play, their power orientation and whether their interests match yours. Also it's a fun piece of leather history, and a great conversation starter even if you don't wind up playing.

The only wildcard that flagging leaves out I think, is sexual orientation. Flagging has a distinctly queer history, but you don't have to be queer-id'ed to flag! As a heteroflexible woman who looks like a lesbian but loves playing with men, this can be tricky for me...Though I've come to realize that if a man is attracted to me, he'll probably hit on me even if he thinks I'm a lesbian. I guess male privilege works in my favor sometimes?

A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger

This song came on my itunes while working on my paper today, broke me out of my sleep deprived funk:



"I spent the winter on the verge of a total mental breakdown while living in Norway

I felt the darkness of the Black Metal Bands

But being such a fawn of a man I didn't burn down any old churches

Just slept way too much, just slept"

This made me smile, because it reminded me of my unrequited crush on Scandinavia post, and how truly miserable I'd probably be if I were actually there instead of here.

I love all Of Montreal's songs about living/traveling in Europe:

"I fell in love with the first cute girl I met who could appreciate Georges Batailles
Standing at a Swedish festival, discussing 'Story of the Eye' "("The Past is a Grotesque Animal")

(I am embarrassed to admit what an epic role "Story of the Eye" had in many of my relationships in my twenties...So much so that I had a loaner copy that is ironically still in the clutches beautiful/smart but crazy girl of Scandinavian extraction.)

Heck, I just love Of Montreal.

Sex Toy Solo Smackdown: !1!!1Eleventy!!!11!!!

Be very afraid. In a good way!

Ok, I'm taking a brief break from the sex toy world cup to review the Eleven. Think of this as the half time show! The Eleven is not going to battle with another toy because this bitch is $300 and 11" long, and while Lelo's Olga has similar specs, I can't afford to buy more than one $300+ sex toy at once simply for comparison's sake!

Have I told you how much I love Njoy's Pure Wand? Yeah, I think I have. (Fine, I'll shut up about it already!) The Eleven is the biggest, baddest bitch in the Njoy line. Eleven inches of weighty solid steel, a modest $300 price tag, and it comes with its own leather clutch purse that's nice enough that you could bring it to a club and pretend it wasn't a sex toy storage bag. Or maybe you could brag to people that it is, and they'll want to sleep with you because you own this terrifying and super elite sex toy! IDK!

So, the Eleven. I am a little bit of a size queen, so of course I was lusting for this thing from the moment I saw it. It really is incredibly beautiful, like a cross between a chrome art deco coffeepot and and an HR Giger painting. And it's double ended, with one very thick, tapered bulbous end, and a slimmer end with convenient ridges for clitoral stimulation. Both ends feel awesome with a smooth glide and curves to hit the right spot, but this is definitely not a toy for the timid- it takes up some serious real estate.

If I have one complaint about this beast, it's that it's heavy, and therefore inconvenient to work with one hand while using a vibe. You can't ever really let go of it, because gravity will do funny things with it. And your arm is going to get tired, and it doesn't have the uber convenient ergonomic curve of its little sister, the Pure Wand.

However! If you have a partner to use it on you? AMAZING. It has a weight unlike any other toy I've ever used, and feels incredible when someone else is doing the heavy lifting. It's just not ideal as a solo toy.

This toy is admittedly a big investment, and it's not for everyone. If you have the bucks and enjoy big, heavy, smooth toys (and want a purse/piece of modern art/blunt weapon in the deal), by all means spring for this baby. I think you'll know if it's for you. And it is very likely to make you popular with kinky people who've been dying to try it out.

Update: I discovered last night that this beast ALSO makes an excellent massage tool! (For sore backs, pervert!)

For the general populace, I maintain that the Pure Wand is STILL the best money you can spend on a steel toy, and definitely something to try before committing to the Eleven.

And of course, you can purchase all of Njoy's amazing steel toys from EdenFantasys!

More Menstrual Suppression...

This is stuff  I've already written about before, but Eden Cafe recently ran another article I wrote about Menstrual Suppression that's getting a lot of good feedback.

I'm still in the throes of cranking out my paper about Menstrual Suppression and Moral Panic, which I will present in Phoenix on October 7th!

The Girl and the Röyksopp

 I've had an unrequited crush on Scandinavia long before I got into Denmark's pants. (Unrequited, I say, because while living in Japan, I had some awkward encounters with Swedes who enjoyed informing me how horrible my country was, to my face.) But for as long as I can remember, the Danish branch of my family tree was the thread most revered by the Geneaology nerds of my clan (and indeed, how I ended up meeting a distant Danish cousin while visiting Copenhagen). I clung to that little bit of cultural heritage with the unwavering devotion of an American mutt who desperately wants to identify with something other than "white." (A lot of us do this. My Dad is obsessed with his Native American roots. Half of Chicago goes batshit for St. Patricks Day if they have even a drop of Irish blood.) Being an American, particularly a White American is such a vague, amorphous identity that can mean so many bad things, it's not surprising that I've come to idealize the land of stylish furniture, socialized health care, impeccable pop music and beautiful people.

I always knew, even when I was a kid, that I'd be an expat when I grew up. (I spent half my twenties living in Japan, and am currently applying to a grad school programs in Bergen, Berlin and Amsterdam.) I spent my summers in cultural immersion day camp, learning French and Italian and eating Nutella and folk dancing. I used my first paycheck from my part-time job to buy "teach yourself German" cassette tapes. I wanted to be a polyglot, and by the time I graduated from high school I was speaking, reading, and writing French semi-fluently. I went on to get a bachelor's degree in Japanese, and once I acquired fluency in the Kansai dialect, hired a tutor to teach me Portuguese. I wound up as some sort of culturally confused linguistic jack of all trades, which is ironically so very American of me.

When I was eight or nine, I had this Scandinavian languages phrase book- I think I made my mom buy it for my birthday. It was the size of a small phone book, as it covered Swedish, Danish AND Norwegian, but I carried that damn thing around like it was a security blanket. I was a bookish, chronically bullied, socially awkward twit with terrible fashion sense even by 1980's standards. My trump card was that I was the smartest kid in my class, which just made my peers hate me more. I didn't have many friends, but I did have my muthafuckin' Scandinavian phrasebook, because someday I was going to grow up, move to Europe, and be so much cooler than the assholes who listened to Boyz 2 Men and thrived on making my life a living hell.

I know now that even if I still owned that phrasebook it would not do me a lot of good, because Danish phoenetics are a bitch for native English speakers. Odense, where my cousin lives, is pronounced something like "Oh-NN-suh," not "Oh-dense." I still am not sure how to pronounce Købnhavn. And that is one of the hard lessons you learn as an expat- sure, you escaped America, but you're still a fucking American, and your pronounciation blows. Their English is so much better than your Danish will ever be. (Japan, interestingly, was the inverse: the language is very easy to pronounce, and the majority of Japanese nationals struggle with English. So Denmark was like a cold bitchslap of linguistic inferiority to my pride.)

The week I spent in Denmark shook a lot of shit loose in my heart and in my head. It was the first time I'd left the USA since moving back in 2005, and it made me realize how grey and rote my life in the States had become. My first day back in Chicago, I sobbed. The food was bad. The buildings were ugly. There weren't any bike lanes. The people were lumpy and infuriating. Life was easy, but I wasn't really living it. It was literally shocking how ugly the city I'd fallen in love with six years ago had come to look in just a week's absence. It was like coming home to an estranged wife after a passionate week-long love affair with a stranger who was intimately familiar. 

I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't so much that I wanted to move to Denmark- even with one week of summer vacationing I could tell that Copenhagen might quickly become a lonely and disillusioning place, not to mention the massive challenges of getting a visa and finding work when I don't speak the language. As an American, I could proudly claim my Danish ethnicity, but in Denmark, it didn't mean jack shit- I was an American, very far removed from my namesake Danish Great Great Grandmother.  

But there was something magical about visiting this place where everybody looked like me (but thinner, in spite of their delicious pastries) and where there are tiny hearts stamped on the coins and half the candy in the 7-11 is black licorice, my favorite. It struck me, my first night in town, as I offered my Danish friend a sip of my Pernod and soda with the caveat "You might not like it, it tastes like licorice," that I didn't HAVE to say that, because of course he loved licorice. It was like this amazing alternate universe where my peculiar tastes for smoked fish and licorice and rye bread and bitters were considered normal. I have no idea if a penchant for licorice is genetic, but my mother and sister love it too. I bought a ton of candy, rationing it carefully and as it dwindled, feeling a little sad with the passage of time taking me further and further away from Denmark. 

I have every intention of visiting again next summer (along with Iceland, Sweden, Germany, and the Netherlands), and it's possible I will go to grad school in Europe, depending on where the chips fall. (Tuition is free in Norway, and about 5k a year in Germany. Can't argue with that.) But for right now, I'm in the US and facing another long, horrible Chicago winter. 

2 weeks ago I downloaded three albums by Norwegian electronic dance pop duo Röyksopp after a friend recommended them to me. Since then it's all I've listened to, escaping into my Scandinavian fantasies once again. My ipod has become my grown-up version of the  phrasebook. I feel like Robyn in the Girl and the Robot video, staring numbly into a very distant and unrealistic fantasy that is all the more alluring for its unattainability. When the snow falls and the days grow shorter and darker, I will pretend I'm in Trømso, and it will get me through the day.

New Huffpo Blog: Alternative Alternative Relationship Models

(This post also appears here at the Huffington Post Chicago website.)

Recently I attended a workshop presented by Dossie Easton, co-author of The Ethical Slut. To the uninitiated, TES is the bible for individuals participating in the Polyamorous lifestyle -- i.e., the idea that you can have multiple romantic, committed relationships simultaneously (not to be confused with swinging, where a committed couple engages in casual sex without emotional involvement, cheating, or good old-fashioned random fucking around). Polyamory is wildly popular in the queer and kink communities, to the point that people who prefer monogamy get sometimes funny looks.

I dabbled in polyamory in my youth (when I actually had the time and energy for multiple relationships) and while I respect it as a valid lifestyle for others, it's not a relationship model that works for me at this point. It's easy enough to have a little black book full of numbers, but having to actually remember birthdays and anniversaries for these numbers? That's another story entirely.

So what do you do when you're not really up for polyamory but are too unconventional for traditional committed monogamy? You come up with alternatives to alternative relationship models.

Unrequited Polyamory: Although I cannot handle IRL polyamory, I am a champion at unrequited polyamory. This is when you are secretly "in love with" (read: doomed crush on) multiple unavailable people, such as coworkers, clients, roommates, people who flirt with you for an ego boost but aren't really into you, people whose sexual orientation doesn't include your gender, people already in monogamous relationships, people your friends are dating/have dated, that girl you see on the train every morning, exes you're still not over, people you hooked up with on vacation who live on the other side of the world, and friends you made out with once when you were drunk and agreed it should never happen again, except you secretly hope it will happen again. The difference between unrequited polyamory vs. normal unrequited love is the sincere belief that all twelve of these people could be the love of your life, simultaneously, if they'd just give you a chance.

Casual Monogamy: One of the best parts of being in an ongoing relationship is (hopefully) you are having lots of fantastic sex with someone who gets to know your sexual ins and outs (teehee) well enough to get you off every time. But you know what the best part of monogamy really is? LOTS AND LOTS OF BAREBACKING (assuming you're both STI-free). You can theoretically be in a polyamorous situation where you are fluid-bonded with one or more partners, but the risk of exposure to STIs is still way higher when all parties are fucking multiple people, even if you're using barriers. Sometimes you can't handle being in a real relationship, but you miss that unlimited sexual freedom to fuck without a condom/dental dam/whatever. And that's where casual monogamy comes in.

When I first moved to Chicago, I spent six months in a non-committed relationship with a much older divorced man I nicknamed my "casual husband." He cooked me pot roasts, we sat around in our underwear watching TV, and had lots and lots of consequence-free unprotected sex. It was seriously awesome, and legitimately emotionally uncomplicated (I went through an awkward "BUT WHAT IF I FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU?" phase but got over it fairly quickly.) Also, he gave me a deep fryer for my birthday. That is what casual monogamy is all about.

Platonic Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Genderqueerfriend: This is sort of the inverse of casual monogamy. You are clearly in an ongoing, emotionally involved relationship with a person, and you do stuff like cook dinner and go to IKEA together, but sex is off the table. The difference between this and a normal friendship is one or both partners is "secretly in love" with the other, but sex is not a viable reality for one of the reasons described in "Unrequited Polyamory" above. Not to be confused with a "hetero life mate,"  where there is not underlying romantic tension.

Did I miss any important alternative alternative relationships styles? Leave a note in the comments if I did.

Revisiting The Rules

(For posterity, here is my first HuffPo Chicago blog in it's entirety. Visit the original post here, and be sure to click "like" if you like it!)

I recently read that Blake Lively of Gossip Girl hooked Leonardo DiCaprio by manipulating his affections with that old chestnut of female wiles, The Rules. (Does anyone else think that LD kind of looks like one of those babies that look like tiny old men? But I digress.) Clearly none of his attraction to her was based on the fact that she's a youthful blonde starlet, because no heterosexual man would EVER want to date Blake Lively unless she tasered him into submission with extensive mindfuckery.

I've never read the rules. At the point that it came out in 1995, I was fifteen years old and had no particular desire to trick a man into marrying me. I'm 31 now and still have no desire to trick a man into marrying me, but as a blogger who writes a lot about sex, dating and gender, my curiosity got the better of me, and I looked it up on Google Books.

I often wish that I felt a stronger sexual attraction to women, because I feel my cultural identity and personal politics are most likely much better suited to queer dating than attempting to conform to hetero culture. As I wrote in my essay "Passing," there are ways that I do have an accidental lesbian identity, at least on the basis of appearance. Deep down inside, I identify much more as a transgendered gay man than a straight woman or a lesbian, but having chosen to stick with my female body, I'm pretty much stuck dating straight (or bisexual if I'm lucky) men. I generally refer to myself as "heteroqueer" in order to make the distinction that yes, I like boys, but I can't wrap my head around mainstream straight culture at all.

The Rules have always been a part of heterosexual woman lore that I could never wrap my head around. It was the first in a long line of books on the theme of "YOU CAN'T GET A MAN TO COMMIT BECAUSE YOU'RE DOING SOMETHING WRONG SO DO WHAT THIS BOOK SAYS AND IT WILL FIX ALL YOUR PROBLEMS." Then asshat "Pick Up Artists" like Mystery and Style responded by writing their own "Rules" for manwhores -- Rules of the Game to be precise, on the inverse theme of "YOU CAN GET ATTRACTIVE WOMEN TO HAVE CASUAL SEX WITH YOU IF YOU JUST INSULT THEM PROPERLY!"

If The Rules built a better husband-catching mousetrap, then the Rules of the Game built a smarter, sleazier mouse. The end result is a lot of creepy, desperate people obsessing about how much energy they should invest in playing mind games with potential marriage/sex partners, because it clearly worked for the authors of these books!

I went ahead and read the first few chapters of The Rules (which is hilariously outdated to the point of telling you how to behave at "singles dances") until Google cut me off, but you can pretty much figure out the system by reading the introduction and skimming the chapter titles. There are aspects of the program that make a lot of sense, mainly that you should have an interesting life of your own as a single person and not spend all your time obsessing about crappy dudes.

But the problem is the book also advocates styling yourself as narcissistic, game-playing, emotionally unavailable manic pixie dream girl (aka "creature unlike any other") who is never allowed to initiate a phone call, pay for anything, "talk too much," reveal personal information, or make out on the first date. That sounds kind of awful, actually, but these are still tropes that still haunt single heterosexual women 16 years after this dumb book was published.

Fun fact: The Rules for Marriage: Time-Tested Secrets for Making Your Marriage Work came out around the time that co-author Ellen Fein was getting divorced, so apply these principles at your own risk.
I am an abject failure by the standards of The Rules, but I'm kind of okay with it. My two longest relationships were with men that I chased (to be fair, they were shy boys who probably wouldn't have made the first move on their own, but that didn't mean that my aggression was somehow revolting to them). The first one was a sleazy college hook-up that turned into a four-year relationship. The second one I had sex with on the second date. I had TRIED not to, and explained to him that I didn't want things to "get weird" between us before we wound up having sex anyway. Things didn't get weird, and we stayed together for almost year before I decided it was time to move on. You know what's wrong with me? I keep settling for egalitarian, feminist men who don't ostracize me for being sexually aggressive and honest!

The relationships I've had that have most closely followed the "Rules" archetype have been kind of awful. If a man aggressively chases you, it's most likely because he has some fantasy version of you in his head that you most likely won't be able to live up to. Sure, it's nice to be wooed with expensive dinners and fancy presents, but not when these things are ploys for control.

The reality is no matter how hard you try to psychologically manipulate someone into committing or having NSA sex with you (depending on which version of the "Rules" you follow), there's no guarantee that it will actually work. And if it does work, what do you have? A person you psychologically manipulated into dating/fucking you. Hot. There will always be dudes who want chase women they perceive as unattainable. The Rules will probably work on these dudes, but then (according to this book) you have continue acting rulesy even after you've married them. Isn't the whole point of a committed relationship that you feel comfortable enough to be genuine and vulnerable with your partner?

The reality is that dating sucks. You will probably get burned. You will probably get rejected. You can try to protect the defenseless moosh that is your aching heart or throbbing genitals with an arsenal of mindfuck tricks, but if this shit truly worked, we'd already have a nation of happily married straight women and sexually gratified straight men. (Never mind the fact that there are plenty of straight men seeking commitment, and straight women seeking casual sex only.) These books exist solely to sell you bullshit and false promises so that the authors can get rich and then charge you even more money for seminars and spin off books.

So seriously, straight ladies: call dudes. Make out on the first date. Hell, fuck on the first date, if you want to. Pay for dinner on occasion, especially if you make more money than he does (and studies say that a lot of us are these days). And if these things scare him off, is this really a person you'd want to be dating anyway? Congratulations, you just dodged a bullet.

Sex Toy World Cup Round Two: Sweden Vs. Japan (Part Two)

Yesterday, I reviewed Sweden's Ella, a g-spot dildo that left me cold. Today, Japan's Vibratex Silky puts the smack down!

As featured in "Burn After Reading"!

Vibratex is an old school Japanese company best know for pioneering the "Rabbit Pearl" design which has been subsequently ripped off a bajillion times. Coincidentally, Lelo also has an entire line of "rabbit" style vibrators, that aren't as cutesy, but feature the same all-in-one clit vibrator and penetration combo. (I personally don't care for rabbit style vibes. I owned one when I lived in Japan that looked like an eskimo and oscillated, but I prefer keep my clitoral and internal stimulation separate.) Anyway, I got to try Vibratex's non-rabbit "Silky" dildo at a strap-on product testing party (yes, really) and although I thought is sort looked sort of like a gross jelly dildo at first glance, it turned out to be incredibly awesome on many levels, so I decided I needed one of my own!

Team Japan: Vibratex's Silky

Retail Price:$45ish

Specs: Blue, black or pink latex and phthalate free Elastomer. Soft, squishy yet firm texture with a bendable insert. Pillowy, veined, skin-like texture with a pronounced head. 7" long, 1 5/8" diameter, lightweight with flared based (harness compatible). Good for vaginal or anal play, though make sure you use condoms if you use it for both, as it's non-disinfectable.

Appearance: This literally looks like a dildo made from bubble gum (especially the pink one!) The powdery surface has an almost unchewed bubble gum-like texture. It also feels a LOT like Japanese mochi daifuku (bean paste filled pounded rice cakes) which is oddly appropriate. The elastomer is as soft as cyber skin or vix skin, but has the advantage of being firm yet yielding, making it ideal for anal penetration as well as vaginal. Despite the unrealistic colors scheme, the cock is otherwise fairly realistic with a pronounced head and veined texture. There's also a smily face on the underside of the cock head. Yes, really. By law, Japanese sex toys have to have a face or some kind of anthropomorphising aspect in order to be legally qualifiable as "toys." Yes, Japan is weird about sex in certain ways, but that's partly General McArthurs fault for telling them to censor genitalia from porn, which is why tentacles have emerged as a viable substitute for penises. The soft texture and flexible core in this dildo means you can totally use it for pack and play, which is awesome! You can also bend it to create a nice g-spot curve, and it will keep its shape as you use it!

Orgasmic Factor:
I didn't get to use this toy to strap-on fuck anyone, but everyone who fucked with it/was fucked by it reported it was fantastic. I did fuck myself with it (well, Sunny helped!) and also loved it.

The greatest thing about this toy is it offer a lot of features that have *sounded* great but been executed poorly in other toys, such as flexible bendability, pack and play capability, and skin-like texture. Unlike other toys, this one actually delivers on all these promises (I've always said the Japanese are the champions of building a better mousetrap). It's delightfully soft and silky, but firm enough to properly fuck with, actually holds its shape correctly when you bend it, and maintains the integrity of its smooth texture with repeated washings (unlike the old cyberskin dildos that tended to get grubby/sticky/pill-y with time). It's wonderful for strap on play, because of the large, firm base, and it's on the big side of average, but soft and yielding enough to adapt to a variety of body types without discomfort. And it looks like a real cock! (Apart from the color and smiley face...) My only complaint is that it's not disinfectable, so always use with condoms if you plan on sharing. On the other hand, that means you can use any kind of (preferably non-oil based) lube with it, although you have to store it separate from other plastic/vinyl toys to prevent the material from degrading. (Silicone should be ok.)

One last thing- a sticker on the box says "As featured with George Clooney in Burn Before Reading." Yep, it's the dildo from his fuck chair. (They also brag about the Rabbit Pearl being featured on Sex In The City, so maybe product placement is their main marketing strategy?)

Overall Grade: 9/10 (it would be a 10 if the material could be disinfected.)


FINAL VERDICT:
I was expecting a tie based on Lelo's reputation, but the Silky won by a long shot. Lelo is a great company with beautiful aesthetics (and anything that makes sex toys more acceptable by mainstream standards is a plus in my opinion), but their designer toys just don't work right with my body, and are better suited to people who want smaller, discreet, entry-level toys. Vibratex caught me off guard, I didn't expect to love the Silky as much as I did, but I'd recommend it to almost anybody. JAPAN VICTORY! (Japan will return in a future match with a Tenga product, guest-reviewed by my dude BFF Brazilian Maik!)

Sex Toy World Cup Round Two: Sweden Vs. Japan (Part One)

Welcome to Round One of School for Scandal's Sex Toy World Cup, a part of the Sex Toy Smackdown Series, which compares two toys to see which emerges victorious. For this series I am pairing similar toys (in function, price range, etc.) from different countries in a battle to get me off!

Sweden has an unfair advantage in the boob department.

For round two, I selected a pair g-spot friendly dildos: Lelo's "Ella" from Sweden, and Vibratex's "Silky" from Japan.

My friend K. described the Ella as looking like a "Danish Modern" dildo, and technically it's Swedish, but it does sort of look like something you'd buy at IKEA (Protip: IKEA plastic bag holders double really well as dildo storage racks.)

Unfortunately Denmark doesn't seem to have any sex toy companies of their own (I checked!) so Sweden is left to pick up the slack. Lelo is one of the original high end luxury toy brands, and though I had tried a friend's Soraya at a party, I didn't have any Lelo products of my own, probably because they're friggin' expensive. So I decided to pick up the relatively inexpensive Ella g-spotter as an experimental investment.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN...

Team Sweden: Lelo's Ella

Retail price: $40ish

Specs: Matte silicone. Available in black, rose, or white. 7" long, 1.25" diameter (depending on which end you use, but this is what the website says.) Slender and lightweight.

Appearance: Non-vibrating silicone double ended dildo. One end has a curved knob for G-spot stimulation, the other end is smooth/pointed with a slight ridge towards the top with a slender neck connecting both ends. Beautiful Scandinavian design and elegant packaging. The long black box makes it feel like you're getting a diamond bracelet, which makes sense since Lelo has branded itself as the pinnacle of luxury toys.

Special features: Comes with a white satin pouch for storage. Comes with free Lelo lube if you buy it through EdenFantasys. Either end can be used for penetration.

Orgasmic Factor:
So, as you may remember, I think Njoy's Pure Wand is the BEST TOY EVER, because it hits the G and A spots so well. The only downside is that it's rather heavy, and not good for travel. I was curious about the Ella because it seems to have a nice g spot curve and a decent length. I didn't expect it to live up to the Pure Wand, but I was hoping that it would be good enough to serve as a portable substitute when I go on trips. And furthermore, I was eager to get my hands on some of that legendary Lelo magic, and at $40, the price was right.

Boy, was I disappointed.

To prove that I am NOT biased, I will mention that this toy has an average rating of 4.5/5 stars (based on 624 votes) on EdenFantasys. So clearly, there a lot of people who love this toy. But these people are not me.

This toy was useless for getting me warmed up- I barely felt it. So I tried giving it another go a week later when I was already aroused. It was slightly better this time, but the G spot stimulation was so mild compared to the Pure Wand that I quickly gave up on it. Part of the issue is that it's so light and slender that it just lacks the necessary "oomph" I need to get off. I tried using the straight end as well, and found the pointy tip to be rather uncomfortable when it hit my cervix. Sigh.

I can see this product working well for sex toy beginners or women who prefer smaller insertables. (One of the main reasons I've haven't bought any Lelo insertables in the past is they're all so friggin' short). If you're already addicted to the Pure Wand, this will do nothing for you.

On the upside, the aesthetics, design and packaging of this toy are gorgeous, and I really did want to like it. It's just too bad that the function can't live up to the form for me.

Overall Grade: 6/10

In tomorrow's installment, Japan steps up its game with the Vibratex Silky dildo!

Queer Enough, Again!

C. told me I look like Geraldo Rivera in this pic. Should I be flattered or offended?

My essay Queer Enough was recently published in a super awesome zine, also called Queer Enough (purely coincidental) which debuted at the "Queer Between the Covers" bookfair in Montreal, Canada. The zine is filled with writing and art about queer heterosexuality, a topic near and dear to my heart. You can buy the zine here, it's only $3.

If you're interested in submitting writing or artwork for the next issue, you can find the call for submissions here. Jamie has set 10/1/11 as the tentative deadline, so get on it!

I'm blogging for HuffPo Chicago now!

No, this isn't the reason I've sucked at updating recently (you can blame grad school applications and a conference paper for that), but an editor friend invited me to write about sex and dating for Huffington Post Chicago, so I will be both cross posting stuff from here and producing some original content for them...You can see my first post here, about the hangover straight dating culture still suffers from that stupid Rules book that came out 16 years ago! Enjoy! 

Weeds in Copenhagen

This cracked me up after I came back from Denmark and Copenhagen serendipitously became a plot point on Weeds: