The Nappy Cat Chronicles

Topics of sexual intimacy with yourself and others have rightfully broken out in the mainstream.  The taboo nature of such topics has been overblown for quite some time.  Indeed, that is why many feminists make note of how the feminist revolution (which, by the way, hasn’t ended) was also a sexual revolution.

So, we break ground, but the point that has been missed deals with how we comment on sexuality.  What is trivial for one person isn’t for another.  What I absolutely love – and by love, I mean cry myself to sleep at night – is how the  topic is discussed among females.  If you haven’t experienced two or more women talking about their orgasms, or sexual encounters, I implore you to do so.  You will leave feeling either one of two things: You either already thought you were the bees-knees and will continue to think so, or you will leave shattered of any self-confidence whatsoever.

What we learn is that Tina Turner was right.  What’s love got to do with it?  I don’t care how much you love someone, or actually want to please them, failure is always an optional exit on the highway of sexual disaster.  I know, I’ve heard the stories.

And this is the kicker.  If this is what men feel sometimes, I cannot – for the love of any deity that I do not believe in – imagine what it’s like on the other side for women who have been wrongfully trained into internalizing bedroom problems as their fault.

My point all comes down to the fact that we all have insecurities, and just because we can joke about them, or that the female gender is finally starting to be allowed (it’s still too taboo for some people) to openly discuss these in the same manner as men do, doesn’t mean that some (me) aren’t insecure about it.

Put it this way.  Will and I discuss topics dealing with sex every so often here, but you won’t see me co-starring in a flick with Nina Hartley any time soon.  So, go ahead, discuss, it’s good to talk about sex, but just don’t be surprised when you see my eyes dart down as I think to myself, “Is this going to be a problem for me on my next date?”

Steven McNair’s murder should be a lesson to all men: If you have to go there, don’t have an affair with a woman under 35. Teenagers and girls in their early 20’s are especially off-limits. Ssince the restaurant industry runs on after-hours sex, having an affair with a waitress is fine. Giving gifts and making promises regarding divorce are not fine.

This is absurd. From my experience, a girl who’s seeking a long-term commitment will probably encourage the guy to forgo the condom. Maybe she wants to get pregnant. Or, maybe she knows that bareback is a far more pleasurable experience. Of course, in either case, she may freak out the next morning and ask her one of her girlfriends for a ride.

Robert might just be the kind of guy who’s never made a woman cum. He speaks of male sexuality as though it were all about maintaining coercion and power over the female folk. Men are from Mars and women, Venus. When you read or hear someone making a similar argument, walk away. There is more variety within both gender groups than differences between them. In other words, there is someone of the opposite sex whose personality, compulsions, and lifestyle are very similar to your personality, compulsions, and lifestyle.

But, all of that misses the point, which is condom or no condom, Plan B or no Plan B, teenagers have sex. People have sex. In a million years, nothing has stopped people from fucking each other. In fact, all attempts at stopping said fucking seem to increase said fucking. You just got to go with it and hope that your kid’s inevitable mega-crisis, caused by the recklessness attributable to an incomplete brain, is manageable. You don’t have neither the power nor the right to control all aspects of your kid’s life. In fact, exerting that much power over a kid produces some fucking creepy results.

P.S. Robert, how old do you think this girl is? Should I put a rubber on my mouse before I click her?

And here I thought it was the gays who were the deranged sex perverts:

[M]ens [sic] sexual nature is far closer to that of animals. So what? That is the way he is made. Blame God and nature. Telling your husband to control it is a fine idea. But he already does. Every man who is sexually faithful to his wife already engages in daily heroic self-control. He has married knowing he will have to deny his sexual natures desire for variety for the rest of his life. To ask that he also regularly deny himself sex with the one woman in the world with whom he is permitted sex is asking far too much.

I get what he’s saying, but, heroic? Oddly enough, after reading his post I’m left with the impression that Prager wholeheartedly despises celibate monastics.

NewScientist documents the discovery of the way of the G-Spot:

Emmanuele Jannini at the University of L’Aquila in Italy discovered clear anatomical differences between women who claim to have vaginal orgasms – triggered by stimulation of the front vaginal wall without any simultaneous stimulation of the clitoris – and those that don’t. Apparently, the key is that women who orgasm during penetrative sex have a thicker area of tissue in the region between the vagina and urethra, meaning a simple scan could separate out the lucky “haves” from the “have-nots”.

It’s my experience that women have three routes to the big O: The first, clitoral stimulation, is the most direct. The second, vaginal stimulation, is a route upon which you mysteriously find yourself. The third, G-Spot stimulation, is not as utterly elusive as most non-sexperts would like you to believe. Basically, you place one or two fingers in your partner’s vagina and gently tap and rub the area that is at your fingertips and close to the curve. Combine this with gentle clitoral stimulation and stimulation of whatever else your fingers are capable of reaching and, in 10 minutes or so, you can produce a mind-blowingly intense and erotic orgasm. I suppose not all women are capable of this; however, this article reinforces the fact that exploration and experimentation are the hallmarks of a sexually-gratifying relationship.

Laura Ingraham: “Don’t come in my ear.”

Kathleen Parker on Laura Ingraham: Laura, the Cucumber Queen

Definition of Cucumber Queen: In gay terminology, a person who enjoys having phallic-shaped vegetables or objects pushed up his ass.