The man who wrote a four hundred word column entitled My Girlfriend Didn’t Like Porn.
Sadly, I threw the paper away in a fit of extreme irritation, mixed with thoughts about porn that probably would’ve got me thrown off the bus for indecency had anybody else known about them. If only he could have heard them, however, he might never have had the foolishness to write that column.
Because lots of women don’t like porn. In fact, lots of men don’t like porn. It’s just that, like so many things, porn has long been classified as a kind of “boy’s toy”, something that every man should enjoy, yet unnatainable for us weak little hysterical women.
And there are many different reasons why many different people don’t like many different types of porn.
Personally, I harbour mixed feelings.
I don’t mind the idea of porn per se, but the way that porn is produced and packaged means that I don’t really want to go near it, although I have seen some.
It makes me very uncomfortable wondering just how much coersion was used, how much force, how much blackmail. I feel sick at the thought that I might be witnessing a rape – and worse, enjoying it. Especially since venturing onto literotica, which is a site dedicated to erotic literature, funnily enough. Some of the fantasies I read about there – stories of professional rapists, an entire section entitled “nonconsent/reluctance” (I’m impressed by the euphamisms, but really, if you don’t consent, then that is rape) – have shown me that it’s a frighteningly common thought. And I know that rape fantasties don’t always equal wanting to rape or be raped, but even so, it’s not something I like to find so frequently.
And there’s another problem.
It’s all designed to be watched by a certain type of man.
“I went into one shop,” one of my friends told me recently, “and there was a small stand in the corner for ‘gay sex’ – where all of the video covers featured men – and a whole wall full of covers showing blonde hair and big breasts.”
It’s so common. I hate it.
I hate it that the existance of real lesbians is completely denied, because of course they’re just doing it for the man’s enjoyment. As though his cock is the most important thing in the world.
I hate it that every woman is assumed to be bisexual, and that the man who wrote this stupid, stupid column pouted that his girlfriend didn’t want to watch two women, although he point-blank refused to watch two men.
I hate it that all ‘mainstream’ porn is about Teh Menz.
And I hate it that the most sought-after scenes in ‘mainstream’ porn seem to be:
a) a blowjob, which is, by nature, intended for the sole pleasure of the man
b) anal sex – the man penatrating the woman – which is unlikely to give the woman any pleasure, since our G-spot is nowhere near (and ok, I wouldn’t normally pander to stereotypes, but guys, have you ever thought to ask for directions?)
c) the ‘money shot’ – watching the man come, usually over the woman.
I for one don’t find it at all sexy thinking of having a guy shoving something into an orifice of mine that’s only designed to have waste food come out, or indeed getting his come all over my nose.
There. Done. Now if only I could reduce that down to 400 words, and convince the editors of The London Paper that they wanted to print my vitriol, sarcasm and general rage, I would be a woman triumphant. At least until the readers voted on whether they liked me….
… I’ve been thinking about cheating.
Not the kind of cheating you’d describe as the result of being the (rather unscrupulous) Banker in a family game of Monopoly, with the chance to con your sister.
The kind of cheating you you’d describe as infidelity.
Anecdotal evidence has shown that, at least amongst my peer group, the women are much less likely to forgive than the men. In fact, we have already found three couples in which the guys have said that, in theory, they would take their girlfriends back, while said girlfriends have reacted with shock and horror, and also said that, were positions reversed, they would never take their boyfriends back.
I don’t know what this means. It’s just there.
Frankly, I find the guys’ stance on cheating strange, to say the least.
I’ve always thought that love, and relationships, are based on trust, especially in those relationships we have most choice over: our friends and partners. And perhaps I have a very blinkered view on what constitutes love.
I wouldn’t trust my grandmother further than the TV she sees men behind. I have some affection for her, as she is, after all, an elderly woman and my father’s mother, but I don’t think that I have any real love for her.
On the other hand, I have a deep love for both of my mother’s parents, which I feel stems from long, trusting and mutually respectful relationships.
I have moved away from many people, both friends and boyfriends, when I felt that I could no longer trust them. In some cases I could be civil, and in others I could not bear to be in their company, but in all of those failed relationships was the gut feeling that any further relationship with those people would be worthless and meaningless in the absence of the trust I once had.
And so, when people say that they would forgive their partners cheating on them, I am incredulous. Some things are unforgiveable, and many, many more are unforgettable.
I’ve heard the argument used that infidelity indicates a fundamental flaw in the relationship, and might be the saving of it, as it forces the couple to talk about what went wrong.
For me, that seems foolish. Because what kind of relationship is worth having, when you can’t talk about those kinds of flaws to begin with?
I am a talkative person, but to be honest, if somebody did that to me, I don’t know if I’d even have anything left to say to them, as I walked away and got them the hell out of my life.
To the person from Melissa, Texas, who found my blog – and actually followed the link – after googling “banging women till it hurts”…….
What the fuck?!
Also, what were you doing on page 83 of that search? Surely you could have found more, er, relevant sites on, say, page one?
I’d actually really like an answer to this…..
I’m currently administrating in the kitchens for a big office block in central London.
I wouldn’t mention this, were it not for the hysterical conversation I had today with some of the chefs….
Female Chef: Did you see that programme last night, the relationship help one, where this couple rated each other for sex? The woman gave her husband “2/10″….
[chuckles all round the table]
Female Chef: But at the end they asked them again and they both said “8”
Male Chef 1: Awww, man! Could she not have said “10”? Just for the ego boost, know what I’m sayin’?
[general agreement from other Male Chefs]
Male Chef 1: [earnestly] But you can’t put a Mercedes engine in a Ford, know what I mean?
Male Chef 2: If you’re crap, you’re crap. I last 20 seconds, know what I’m saying?
Male Chef 3: Well, you could keep going…. 20 seconds… and another 20 seconds…
Male Chef 1: Yeah, man, my girlfriend told me I was like superman, I was that quick….
Me: Given the underwear superman wears, I’m not sure that was a compliment
Male Chef 1: Yeah, well, it wasn’t till afterwards I realised what she meant by it.
Male Chef 2: … And this couple’s been together since they were like thirteen, fourteen…
Male Chef 1: Damn, I’d get bored, man!
Male Chef 2: Yeah… I mean variety is the spice of life, know what I’m saying? Banging the same pussy all the time, what’s the variety in that?
Me: [thoughtfully] You’ve got to pity the girl, too, if he’s got a really tiny cock….
[female chef almost chokes whilst laughing. Male chefs look slightly disturbed. My work here is done....!]
Because I found that somebody had come to my blog by asking,
“What makes women grumpy before their periods?”
In the words of politicians everywhere, I’m glad you asked me that!
So we should all know by now (I’ve said it enough, anyway!) that when women bleed, it’s because they’re shedding the excess lining of their womb, that would have become home to a fertilised egg and eventually turned into the placenta, assuming that there was a fertilised egg to begin with, which there presumably wasn’t.
Anyway. One of the reasons women get grumpy before their period is because, to shed this lining (and some blood), their wombs have mini (or not so mini, depending) contractions. You know, like the ones that make women scream when they’re busy giving birth. Those ones.
Although I am assured on all sides that period pains are nowhere near as bad as trying to force a child’s head through a gap that may not normally accept more than, say, three fingers, they are still bad.
They hurt. Quite a lot. The nearest I could imagine describing it for somebody who doesn’t get periods is really, really bad wind. When you feel tight, and bloated, and your insides feel like they’re twisting round and squeezing each other for no good reason.
And pain makes you grumpy. Shocking, really, isn’t it?
I mean, I know women are meant to have higher pain thresholds than men, due to the fact they’re “meant” to have sproglets (which means that the phrase “take it like a man” is a bit foolish, really, but I’ll pass that by) but seriously, that doesn’t mean we don’t feel anything.
Other reasons women get grumpy before their periods:
- They know that their period is due, and are just a bit fucked off that once again they’ll have to deal with all the lugging around of “sanitary” stuff that feels like you’re wearing a nappy, or means that you’re forced into poking fingers (and other things) into yourself in public toilets – nice!
- The hormones that usually swirl around their bodies are doing so in different amounts, which is a little confusing for us, and can make us homicidal.
- They know that their period may mean curtailing their sex lives, or additional washing (potential staining) of sheets, which is irritating.
- It makes them so hungry that nothing they eat, no matter how much they eat, will stop that feeling. And being hungry for a minimum of five days straight, knowing that I can’t do anything about it, really, really pisses me off.
- Their cycle is a bit screwed up, and now they’ve got their period, again. And they weren’t meant to.
This is by no means an exhaustive list, but hey, I’m sure people will add to it if they really feel the need!
A strange subject for a post, you might think. It gets stranger. Enjoy!
The Tudors is the name of a new UK TV series, all about, well, the Tudors. Or, at least, Henry VIII, he of the 6 wives. Now, I happen to love that period of history, partly because it’s reasonably well documented, partly because I studied it in some depth, and partly because it’s full of sex and death.
This is something that (I hope) made Philippa Gregory lots of money; she found the great scandals and controversies of the time, and made them into novel form, choosing the explanation that involved the most sex and death. And so, for instance, the premise of The Virgin’s Lover is that Elizabeth I, our famous virgin queen, married to England (and not to be confused with Elizabeth II, the elderly woman who is at present our reigning monarch and is clearly not a virgin), was in fact having a rather heated affair with her advisor, Robert Dudley. It’s an entertaining thought.
Anyway, the BBC evidently latched on to this idea even more enthusiastically than I did, because what I saw of the first episode was, quite simply, sex and death.
There was no real form of introduction, no easing in of characters, but in the half an hour I watched, there was a sudden, violent and bloody death and two gratuitous sex scenes, each involving a large amount of breast.
Needless to say, they somehow managed penatrative sex whilst simultaneously retaining their underwear. Funnily enough I find this a lot stranger now than I used to as a child.
It was a strange position to be in – I was deeply irritated by the pointlessness of that much sex being aired, but at the same time, I was well aware that had I been even two years younger, I would have been watching avidly, trying to work out how the hell it worked, and where their legs were going.
Which is almost as bad as guys using porn “to see how it’s done”, because the whole thing was ridiculously unrealistic. Apart from the breasts, which were almost certainly real!
I was disappointed, to be honest. I felt that it could have been a lot better, and it annoyed me that it wasn’t.
Especially since that was my first attempt at watching TV on my own for years.
I mean that, actually. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to watch a program purely for myself.
So I think I’m going to conclude, once again, that all in all, I’d rather read a good book.
And Philippa Gregory is high on my list of authors.
(A surprise contender for the top list is Stef Penney, who wrote The Tenderness of Wolves. It seemed to be a “book group” book and I was all set to ignore it, but Mum had a copy, I got bored, and actually, it’s a really good read.)
And I’m also going to conclude that even when TV sounds like it might be half-decent, it’s probably shite.
You stupid, stupid man.
I don’t expect this kind of article from the Guardian. The Daily Mail, yes. But that is why I call them drivel-purveyors to the masses. I don’t want to include the Guardian in this, but….
Their columnist, the aforementioned man, has infuriated me to the point that I feel forced to counter him with an entire post, which, as he is on my List, is more than he deserves.
Nobody would “ask for” rape.
Indeed, you cannot ask for rape, because the idea of rape rests on the premise that the contact was unwanted.
By asking for something, you want it. You cannot want something that it is impossible to want.
Why does logic elude so many people?
And this simple statement of fact negatives many of the myths around rape, because so many of them hinge on the fallacy that women “ask for it”. But that’s impossible. So shut the fuck up.
And so, with that cleared up, I’d like to point out that the analagy of rape as property theft (“We fit locks to our doors and windows. We keep our valuables out of sight”) is also incredibly foolish.
No woman walks around in public proudly displaying her vagina to the world. This is what we would have to do to make that comparison logical.
She may show some thigh, or some breast, or even (*gasp*) have her nipples visible through her top, but none of these things equate to having “our valuables” in plain sight.
Society needs an overhaul. This man, and many others, both male and female, need their brains rearranged.
And lastly, he mentions the risks of women getting “into a drunken stupor in the company of a frisky male”. Well, yes. At the moment this is a risk.
It should not be a risk. Just as a man getting into a drunken stupor in the company of a “frisky” female is not at present considered risky.
What would his reaction be, I wonder, if a man, finding himself very drunk with a woman that he knows as a casual acquaintance, were to be coerced back to said woman’s house, where said woman proceded to insert a large dildo into one or more of his orifices without his consent, or in any way inappropriately touched his genitals?
Would he say of this man, “he should have been aware of the risks”?
I rather doubt it.
And that is where the problem lies.