Condom Monologues

Category: Monologues

  • Dear AIDS Service Orgs, your condom campaign isn’t working.

    Dear AIDS Service Orgs, your condom campaign isn’t working.

    We need to question the efficacy of pushing condoms as the only safe sex choice. The condom campaign does not seem to be working anymore and people are not getting the message. Yet Aids Service Organizations (ASOs) continue with this message. Granted, with PrEP there is a shift in responsibility that goes beyond those already infected with HIV, to everyone engaging in sex. Yet this shift brings a lot of discomfort as people outside of the HIV community and within begin to see their own roles and responsibilities changing.

    Sticking with the condom campaign is the safe route, (pardon the pun) for institutions as they begin to formulate and consolidate their position on PrEP. Is there fear that supporting PrEP could imply promoting unsafe sex and sexual behavior that is out of control? Is promoting the use of PrEP taking too much of a risk with funders and stake holders who are comfortable with the good old (but not tried and true) condom message? Is PrEP a tough sell as the general public remains in a state of fear and denial about HIV?

    Let’s be honest. Who practices safe sex all the time? People make mistakes. People faulter. Who likes using condoms all the time? I don’t. I was in a long term relationship with an HIV negative person where “all conditions” were adhered to, meaning – we were monogamous, had no other sexually transmitted infections, I had an undetectable viral load and was on anti retroviral treatment. Also being a woman, the likelihood of transmitting the virus has been shown statistically to be low. Throughout this time my partner remained HIV negative. It was what Josh Kruger refered to as an “adult informed decision”.

    But if I mention this to the general public or my local ASO the reaction would be one of horror. I would be handed a condom pack, with a corny safe sex message inside, and given a pat on the head and small lecture on safe sex with condom use as my only option. My job might be threatened too as I am not adhering to the organization’s policies.

    In the meantime, I will continue to tow the party line, pretend that condoms are the only solution to reducing HIV transmission rates, while those of us in the know will continue to make responsible, informed decisions about bare backing. Are Aids Service Organizations, the Supreme Court of Canada and the general public in denial about the latest development in research and medical evidence? Who are the risk takers and who is going to take risks and acknowledge that condom use alone, as the safe sex message, is not working.

    I choose to remain anonymous as I value my job and the funding that comes to the organization I work for.

    Yours truthfully,

    “Virgina”InformedChoices

    Monologues are independent stories. The opinions shared are the writer’s own. To learn more about PrEP, ARTs, and other prevention measures, the Beta Blog is a great resource. What HIV sources do you recommend? Have you experienced fear of PrEP? What HIV awareness campaigns are working?

  • Female Condom Appreciation

    Female Condom Appreciation

    By Takeallah Russell

    Thank you for your aesthetically appealing packaging.fc2 packaging 2

    Thank you for your thin, soft sheath.petals

    Thank you for your flexible rings.baloon bounce
    Thank you for your ample lubrication.slip slide
    Thank you for not being tight and constricting.man says thank you
    Thank you for warming to my body temperature.fanning self
    Thank you for your clitoral stimulation.fireworks
    Thank you for shielding my external genitalia.Look it Up
    Thank you for not requiring an erection in order to stay in place.were gonna loose our minds
    Thank you for not requiring immediate withdrawal after ejaculation.sister act
    Thank you for allowing me to share responsibility for preventing infection and pregnancy with my partner.Dancing Movie
    Thank you for allowing me to be in control.empowerment
    Thank you for allowing me to take back my sexuality.

    How long is your list of gratitudes? To learn more about the awesomness of female condoms check out her coalition: National Female Condom Coalition.

    Gifs from GifSee.com

  • Promises I Didn’t Know I Made

    Promises I Didn’t Know I Made

    YouNeverOweSexI was out late with friends. I was 19-years-old and lit up with enough alcohol to make me silly, energetic, and flirtatious. I was flirting without aim – with female friends and male friends, and without thinking through intentions. I didn’t have any real design, I was just feeling good. We went from bar to bar. I was spinning and heady. At one point I remember grabbing a guy’s hand and running off, speeding the group along.

    Later that night, I went back to my friend’s apartment. I was sleeping on her couch, or that was my plan. That is, until her upstairs neighbor, who was the boy whose hand I had grabbed, led me off to his bedroom. I was pliant and thoughtless; young and inexperienced.

    In his bed, he kissed me. His hands started roving over my body. That sobered me up somewhat. Finally, I was thinking about where I was and what I was doing. And I didn’t want to be doing it. I pulled away and told him as much. To his credit, he did stop touching me. Not as much to his credit, he then preceded to beg. “Please,” he said. “You held my hand.” He waited. “Please, have sex with me. You held my hand.” I again told him no. He continued, “Please have sex with me!”

    I’ve never felt so stone-cold and turned off. He wouldn’t relent. He pleaded, begged, and I finally realized I had to remove myself from the situation because he was not going to stop or accept my “no.” I left his room and went down to the couch at my friend’s place.

    In the morning, I brought it up with her. She was not impressed – with me. Like him, she said, “But you held his hand. You flirted.”

    And so I did. I wouldn’t say it was my most responsible night. I wasn’t thinking through my actions, their consequences, or what they might communicate to others. Some growing up has helped that sort of thing. But he was also not responding to me. Would he really want to have sex with a girl whom he badgered into it? Was the sex more important to him than my desire for it? I was lucky, in that my indiscretion led me to the bed of a rather sad, wheedling boy, and not an outright aggressive one. He wouldn’t let my “no” be, but other than attempting to force me with words, he didn’t force me. I left annoyed with him, sobered that he was so much more interested in having sex than whether or not I wanted to have sex- but otherwise unharmed.

    I also left shocked at my friend, and that she would assert that any sort of flirtation amounts to a promise for sex; that the so-called promise obligates a woman to later deliver on that sex, no matter how she feels or what she wants; and also that flirtation justifies men to be pushy as they make their claim for what they feel they deserve, impervious to what the woman might want herself.

    It was not the first time, or the last, that a boy would beg me to have sex with him, or tell me that I had effectively already made a promise of sex to him through my behavior.

    In many of those cases, my behavior was far less promising and flirtatious than it had been on that night. For instance, one evening I watched a movie alone with a male friend. We talked, enjoyed the film, and he made a move. It was unwelcome, and I told him I wasn’t really into it. He wouldn’t accept my no, either. He grew increasingly belligerent about it as I continued to assert myself, saying that I was obligated to have sex with him since I’d watched the film with him. The night ended with me kicking him out of my house.

    There are no promises in sex or love. Consent has to happen all along the way. And men’s desires don’t get to trump women’s desires. Unless both people are into it, and both people are saying yes, the situation sucks.

    Monologues are independent stories and the opinions shared are the author’s own. Do you relate to this story? Share in the comments.

  • Cowboy Boots & HIV

    Cowboy Boots & HIV

    After my HIV diagnosis I basically shut down and withdrew from everyone for a long time while I struggled to make sense out of it, to understand what exactly HIV was and how I contracted it. I thought at the time it was a virus that affected only gay men, along with many other misconceptions I had read in the newspaper. My doctor, who was the only person I spoke to, suggested I meet a woman he knew who was also HIV positive. He explained that she did have a drug problem in the past but it was all behind her now. I declined the invitation initially because I did not think I had anything in common with the woman. But, after more encouragement from the doctor, I agreed to take her phone number.

    I met Julia at her apartment where she lived with her girlfriend Barbara. They greeted me at the door and immediately asked if they could borrow twenty dollars. I gave them the money and Julia went downstairs to see her landlord. Throughout the evening Julia and Barbara made several trips downstairs to see the landlord and each time they came back upstairs, both women appeared to be high on some substance other than marijuana.

    Eventually the landlord made an appearance wearing a pair of cowboy boots in the summer heat. He sat next to me on the sofa and started flirting with me, telling me I had nice legs as he stared at me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. I reassured myself all was well because he was a friend of Julia. Also, I got this referral from the doctor so they couldn’t be that bad.

    Suddenly there was a knock on the door and a man burst in looking wired and out of control, on a chemical drug. He was in an agitated state and began screaming at the landlord to “give me my fucking drugs”. The landlord screamed back “you will get your fucking drugs when I get my fucking money”. The argument got so heated I was convinced one of them was going to pull out a weapon and someone was going to be seriously injured or killed.

    To say I was afraid was an understatement, as I glanced around for a place to hide if shots were fired.Boots-Solidarity-1

    Eventually, the landlord reached into his cowboy boots and pulled out a bag of white powder and gave it to the guy, with some harsh words and threats. I peaked in the cowboy boots and noticed they were both stuffed with bags of white powder.

    During the heated argument not only was I afraid about my safety and the safety of Julia and Barbara, I wondered whether the police were going to arrive. I imagined myself being led away in handcuffs during this drug bust, pleading with the officers, as I explained I was simply visiting these ladies for coffee. I even went as far in my paranoid state of envisioning my picture all over the local news and having to explain to family and friends what the hell happened as they nodded in disbelief.

    Something like – “Sure Virgina, you were simply visiting for coffee when all of this went down”.

    After the scene I was beyond relieved to get home and lock my door. That was many years ago. I sometimes think about Julia and Barbara and wonder how they are doing. In spite of being in a situation where I had never felt so terrified, I liked the women. They opened their home to me and shared their stories about HIV. We connected with each other on some level.

    They called a few times afterwards and left messages on my answering machine at all hours of the night. I did not return the calls but now I wish I could speak to Julia and Barbara and say thank you for the hospitality, because all these years later, and after meeting many more HIV positive people, I realize we are in this battle together, regardless of who we are or where we have been.Boots-Solidarity-2

    Thank you, Julia and Barbara, for reaching out to me in a time of need.

    Virgina

    P.S. I did give my doctor a brief synopsis of the visit with Julia and Barbara. He quietly nodded and we did not talk about it again.

    Monologues are independent stories. The opinions shared are the author’s own. For more information about living with HIV, check out Rise Up To HIV and be sure to watch the online documentary, Positive Women.  

  • The POWER of 300 CONDOMS

    The POWER of 300 CONDOMS

    Have condoms ever played a role in your relationship breakup? One Condom Monologuer reveals the mind changing powers a stolen box of 300 condoms can wield in unexpected ways, at least momentarily. 

    I wasn’t in love with my boyfriend anymore. I had been keeping it to myself for about a week and didn’t have the heart to tell him over the phone as we made plans for his upcoming visit. He was driving to stay with me in my cramped college dorm room in order to celebrate our much anticipated one year anniversary. The big to-do was less about commemorating the great times we’d shared over the past year and more a manner of awarding me credit for having survived dating this maniac for so long.

    Boyfriend X wasn’t such a bad guy- just a very territorial one with impossible demands and little intention of letting me experience college life to its fullest (aka hanging up the phone to go make some friends for once!). The length of our relationship was chiefly indebted to our overpowering physical chemistry and how we spent about 90% of our time together naked. Our budding sex life obscured two people who were otherwise very confrontational and unhealthy together.

    Our passionate escape from the reality of our situation was facilitated by my boyfriend’s job as a stock boy at Shaw’s supermarket.ShawsCondoms

    In addition to great discounts on groceries, Boyfriend X’s employment gave him exclusive access to unguarded stock-room of condoms which he quickly made a habit of slyly stuffing into his coat pockets after punching out. After I successfully faked a weekend of anniversary merriment it finally came time to overcome the temptation of rampant sex-capades and the burden of guilt, and to simply end the strenuous relationship once and for all. Heart racing, I picked up the phone to call my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. We greeted each other as per usual and just as I was preparing to drop the bomb he announced,

    “Guess what?! I just stole an economy pack of condoms from Shaw’s! There’s like 300 in there! Now what did you want to tell me?”

    I’m not sure what I felt worse about: not being able to do this in person, dumping him so suddenly right before the holidays, or having our break up coincide perfectly with his biggest heist yet. Nothing reminds you more that you got dumped than an unopened box of 300 condoms.

    Monologues are independent stories. Opinions expressed are the writer’s own.

  • Great Sex & HIV – Is it Possible?

    Great Sex & HIV – Is it Possible?

    I know it is possible to have good sex with a partner who is HIV negative. I did it for years. As I look back, the fear and frenzy about HIV transmission was more manageable back then, more so than now when the mere mention of HIV to potential sex partners causes them to behave in irrational and inconsiderate ways out of fear and hysteria. All of this to say, fear campaigns do not work, they do the opposite of what they were intended for. I can write forever about experiences but I do not want to bore anyone, so here are just a few from recent encounters.GreatSexHIV

    1. I was pleasantly surprised when a man I met claimed he was comfortable with my status and wanted to pursue a relationship. Initially it went well but after a short while he began doing strange things, like checking to see if the condom was on during sex. That got frustrating when he upped the frequency so often that I wanted to scream – FORGET IT! How frustrating to be having sex, getting closer to an orgasm and him stopping the show to check the goddamn condom.

    2. I met another man who claimed to be comfortable with my HIV status and after a great romp in the sack he promptly jumped up and washed his dick in the sink with hot soapy water. I don’t think the erection had subsided he was so fast. I walked out and never looked back on that one.

    3. I can’t forget another experience with someone I had known for a long time who had not been aware of my HIV status. We decided to get intimate and he was shocked when I disclosed my status before hand. He mentioned how I did not look like I had HIV. I really wish I knew how someone looks who has HIV. He did assure me he was comfortable and well informed about HIV; not to worry. The first time we had sex it was great. The next time he came over his pockets were filled with every brand of condom on the market, dental dams, latex gloves and whatever safe sex paraphernalia he picked up at the university health center.

    I checked in with him and asked if he was still feeling comfortable because he sure didn’t appear to be. Being that I had an undetectable viral load and was regularly adhering to my meds, the risk of transmission was extremely close to non-existent and we talk about this.   His answer was less than convincing, however, I decided to stop the craziness right then and there. I did not understand how we could have sex comfortably with him caressing me while wearing latex gloves. In the end, I suggested that he purchase an entire body condom, just to be sure. They must be available on EBay. Everything else is these days. This was a particularly sad situation because I lost him as a friend in the process. He left a message on my phone explaining how he could not cope with the fear of contracting HIV.

    4. Now back to my HIV negative partner with whom I was in a monogamous relationship. We had the best sex for many years and at no time did he display any signs of being afraid of contracting HIV. He decided, after many discussions, and a visit to my doctor’s office to get the facts, that he was not going to use condoms. We learned that I was an extremely low risk for transmitting the virus and besides, we had been sexually active with no condoms and lots of sex for a year before I learned of my status. When I did get the diagnosis he was tested and the results were negative, as the doctor predicted. I cannot pretend I was completely comfortable with his decision as I strategically placed condoms all over the house and in the car, just in case we were stranded and wanted to have a quickie to pass the time. In the end I had to accept that it was his informed decision to not use condoms and he remains HIV negative today.

    I am not encouraging people to have unprotected sex. I am not encouraging people to be reckless. I am encouraging people to use a bit of common sense. It is possible to have sex with a person who is HIV positive and not get infected. Circumstances vary for each couple. Depending on what is negotiated to protect one and other the sex can be great. I know first- hand and I long for the day when I meet someone who has the same understanding and lack of fear that my partner did in those days. Until then it looks like I am going to be having a lot more stories to tell that are less than satisfactory.

    Yours unsatisfactorily,

    Virgina

    (Monologues are independent stories. Opinions are the author’s own). Got a question about HIV transmission and diverse-cordant couples? Ask us below. We also recommend following Shawn & Gwenn, a serodicordant heterosexual couple (Shawn is HIV postive, Gwenn is negative) that have been having great sex for over 13 years.  Learn the facts.  

  • A Most Flattering Gesture

    A Most Flattering Gesture

    In my experience, no matter how far away condoms might be from your bed, or how much your partner might resist, they will appear with the right amount of insistence. I’ve witnessed many a human’s compliance to the condom rule, even when it meant traveling miles inclement weather naked.

    Paranoia isn’t good for anybody, except when it comes to your sex life

    I feel like I’m a testament to this fact; in the many years I’ve been having sex with numerous different partners, I’ve managed to stay STI free. I attribute this entirely to the fear-of-God that was instilled in me as a child in the 90’s.

    Fear-driven sex ed

    Yeah. Growing up during the AIDS epidemic meant the incantation of “safe sex” continuously echoing in your head as it was the key to (literally) staying alive. Once I came into my adulthood and starting having sex, I never went without a love glove. How could I ignore the condom monocle donned by Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes? Hello– that stood for something.

    TLC in the 1990's © Clemens Rikken / Sunshine / RetnaUK Image found on http://oneearcovered.tumblr.com/
    TLC in the 1990’s © Clemens Rikken / Sunshine / RetnaUK Image found on http://oneearcovered.tumblr.com/

    And there was no way the story of Magic Johnson’s carelessness could lead to other Johnsons infecting me — venereally. So, it’s been my deep-rooted paranoia coupled with my negative interest in ever getting pregnant, that has brought condoms onto every sexual scene I’ve ever encountered. Even when I’m on the pill. Even when it’s a monogamous relationship. I have even stuck to my latex guns in situations where there was a hottie with language barrier forcing me into one of the most bizarre game of charades I’ll probably ever have to play.

    In my experience, no matter how far away condoms might be from your bed, or how much your partner might resist, they will appear with the right amount of insistence. I’ve witnessed many a human’s compliance to the condom rule, even when it meant traveling miles in inclement weather.

    It was a late summer evening…

    in New England and the sun was dipping behind the western treeline. Hoodies were pulled sloppily over the drunken heads of my friends to combat the chilling air. It was a last hurrah– one final party for everyone to say goodbye before they had to go back to their respective colleges. Beers were cracked, the bonfire lit.

    Normally I’d be just as absorbed in the raucous laughter and over-the-top stories but that particular night I was distracted– by an overwhelming sense of lust. My loins felt as smoldery as the burning embers of the campfire. Kind of distracting. But piping hot-crotches are what happens when you’ve been silently nursing a crush on a friend for weeks.

    I had known Michael for ages, but this summer felt different. He seemed grown up. Tan and muscled from gardening. Very nice indeed. I had been drooling over this new version of my friend all through July and August, convinced some days that he felt the same way. Others that he didn’t see me as anything but his kid sister.

    As it turned out, I wasn’t crazy. All the tension I had been feeling, all the “vibes” I thought I was drowning in, were confirmed in a single moment. Sitting kitty-corner to me around the bonfire, Michael put his hand on my knee. Our eyes met and he smiled mischievously. It was on.

    When the party moved inside, Michael grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom at the far end of the house. We wordlessly shared drunk, slobbery kisses in the manic way two people do when they’ve been waiting too long to jump each other’s bones.

    Things escalated quickly and it wasn’t long before we were in a naked tangle on his bed. He attempted to take it one step further before I stopped him.

    “Dude,” I stuttered. “What about a… you know?”

    “Are you sure?” He asked, obviously disappointed. The mood felt a bit broken.

    “Yeah, I’m sure!” I said incredulously.

    “I’ve got some in the car, but that means going through the living room…”

    “And then everybody’s going to know,” I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want our roll in the hay to be the fodder for all of our friends either. “Ok, well maybe we should just do it another time.”EmilyStoryIllus-1

    “No, no, no.” Michael’s mind seemed to be working frantically now. Condom = penis in vagina. “I’ll be right back.”

    EmilyStoryIllus-2With the agility of a cat, he quickly leapt up onto windowsill, popped out the screen and dashed out into the night. As I watched his bare ass glisten in the moonlight, I couldn’t help but smile.

    EmilyStoryIllus-3Nothing makes you feel quite as desired as someone who’s willing to run naked through the woods to get a condom.

    Condom monologues are independent personal stories. The opinions shared are the writer’s own.

  • I Ran Out Of Condoms

    I Ran Out Of Condoms

    He looks at me and says, “I don’t have any condoms.”

    At which I point I lean back and a flash dance of potential ensuing scenarios simultaneously create a cacophony of, “Hey, mom, what’s the best decision I can make here?” Mom never answers the question, so precariously I sit on the edge of the bed trying to preempt any awkward silence with the right, sexy, drunken thing to say. Does that mean that I stamp up, put my clothes on and storm out? Do I say something catty? Or do I smile like a trooper and take it with my eyes closed?

    This is a consistent problem. I think for me, and most of my female friends, very few of us ever expect a guy to have the condoms. I don’t know why this is, but in the name of Girl Scoutly caution, I always keep a few floating around the bottom of my purse. So when the, “I don’t have any condoms” bomb drops, I can quickly maneuver my private parts out of harm’s way and into properly protected sex. Maybe this is just indicative of a larger issue, namely my lack of faith in humanity to ever make educated, unselfish decisions, but, meh, life moves on.

    Speaking of moving on, it just so happens that I don’t have condoms on me right now. Which means that I’m not going to root around my jacket pockets and grinningly pull out one of those condoms that I got from that free condom basket at the teen sex booth at the street festival.

    And whenever I’m pulling that condom out with that look on my face of, “You’re not getting away with it this time, asshole!” I always try to look into his eyes so I can fully relish the, “This dumb bitch did not fall for my unprotected sex routine” look on his face. And then, even after that, even on the off chance he rips the condom off for “whatever reason” (aka his coke dick went limp again, or the supremely assholeish “It doesn’t feel good so I took it off two seconds ago”) the second time I dive back into my purse and pull out another – it’s just like, hey, I know you tried this once before, but it’s not happening again, okay?

    I mean, I don’t even know why it’s an issue in the first place. We’re both lucky enough to be having sex tonight, I don’t understand why you’re putting so much effort into poo-pooing my extremely rational, extremely altruistic need for you to wear a condom. It’s not like I just asked to pee on you. (Not to diss golden showers, but, you know, when you try to pee on a one night stand, and he’s not into it – the weird looks ensue.)

    This time, however: Nothing. I’m feeling in the bottom of my purse. Oh, god. My sluttiness has yet again left me with a purse with no condoms in it. No condoms in the jacket pockets either. I’m fresh out.

    So I look at him and say, “Well…”

    And he looks at me and says, “You know what we could do…”

    I shake my head. I look away. It’s the golden moment. It’s time for truth. It’s time for years of public education to waltz out of my mouth in a moment of glory, the fruition of years of putting condoms on bananas.

    Or, of course, I could crumble to the everpresent pressure of wanting people (aka this dude right here) to like me, and there’s also the fact that I absolutely love having sex, because it’s fun and it feels good. It’s a sudden war of ration versus passion in my mind, and while I notice that I am, indeed, quite drunk, I am proud of myself for having the mental capacity with which to spend five seconds thinking about how dumb it is for me to let this random ass dude stick his dick in me, just so I can sleep for five hours in his messy bed, wake up way too early tomorrow, catch the bus back to my house, sit there in shame and silence while I try to remember what happened last night, catch up on my text messages, let my friends know I’m okay. And then the ensuing weeks of, “Should I get tested? Is that itch in my crotch the sign of the onset of herpes? Or HPV? What if it’s AIDS? Am I being paranoid?” All for a bit of sex that, at the end of it, probably isn’t even going to register in my top 10 sexual experiences.

    So I look at him again, and without making eye contact, I come to the realization that this is probably going to be just another one night stand, so, fuck it, what’s the point? I might see him at a bar some other night, and we might try it again, but it’s not like I’m going to win any overwhelming sense of self validation or ego boost from lying on my bed and trying not to laugh at his sex noises.

    So I do the right thing. I dial a cab, ask him his address, and when the cab’s waiting for me out front, I straddle him, as he sits there in his underwear, given him a kiss, rub my tits in his face and say,“Sorry about your loss.”

    And as I sit, swirling inside my head inside the cab, the thought comes over me once again – why is it always my responsibility to have the condoms? I wish for once when I ran out, he (whoever he is) would say, “It’s okay, boo, I got you.”

    Opinions expressed on Condom Monologues are the author’s own.

  • How I Met Wanda

    How I Met Wanda

    Upon yet another relationship break-up due to disclosing her HIV status, Virgina meets Wanda.

    I was dating a guy for a short while and it was the same old story. He was head over heels until I disclosed my HIV status. He insisted it was not a problem but every day he became more distant and expressed many fears including death, dying, illness and whether I had someone in mind to care for me on my AIDS death bed. Nothing I said reassured him or removed his basic fear. About a month into the new relationship I decided to do us both a favour and call it quits and he was relieved. I saved him the trouble of looking like the bad guy in walking away from fear of HIV.

    As we were walking towards my house during the break up we passed a sex shop. I watched an episode of Sex and the City where the women used a great vibrator- the Hitachi Magic Wand – and the best part of the vibrator was, it was electric. No more drawers full of batteries. After watching that particular episode I really wanted one but, being the pathologically shy person I am, it was impossible for me to go into a sex shop and buy one. So for years I walked by and only thought about it.

    Sam Jones' and the "neck messager"
    Sam Jones and the “neck messager”

    Suddenly I turned to him, handed him $100.00 and asked him to go into the sex shop and buy my vibrator. When he came out I said good bye and never saw him again. But I am now the proud owner of Wanda and let me tell you, she is every woman’s dream. Sometimes there is a silver lining in a cloud.


  • What gets me hot?

    What gets me hot?

    Or, switch the question around a bit: When do I feel hottest?

    The answer may not sound so hot at first: safety gets me hot. Or, in other words, I feel hottest when I feel safest.

    I don’t mean that indiscriminately. I don’t mean I’m a medical kit fetishist. I don’t salivate over sterile gauze and neosporine tubes. I also don’t get my knickers in a twist over seat belts, locked doors, and the before-take-off emergency directions on airplanes. What I mean is that in the context of sex, safety is a must. Only when I feel truly safe do I also feel free, uninhibited, and able to totally enjoy what’s going down between me and my partner(s).

    Consent Makes Me Horny

    The sort of safety I need comes in a lot of forms. One of the most basic forms is consent. There’s no way I’ll get into the bed of any man or woman if I think they won’t hear me when I say “no,” and long before that look for me to say “yes”. Sex is never a promise. Watching a film together, drinking together, making googly eyes at one another across a table, is never a promise. Just like getting into bed with someone is also not a promise. Respectful partners, good partners, hot lovers pay attention and check consent all along the way. The best sex happens when partners aim to please, and part of aiming to please is paying attention to what your partner wants at every step, and never forcing it.

    Condoms Make Me Horny

    The essentials covered, another of the fundamentals of safety is, yes, contraceptive safety. I have a personal preference for condoms. They don’t mess with my body’s hormones, they’re reversible and fairly non-invasive. To be uninhibited in bed, I need to feel fairly confident that no babies are going to result, as I’m not yet at a point in life when babies are what I want. Condoms have the added benefit of protecting against STIs. Twofer, as far as I’m concerned.

    CondomsMakeMeHorny-OnBed-croppedI hate the condom discussion, and if a guy objects too strongly to wrapping it up, I’m often inclined to ditch him, no matter how into him I am. To me complaining about condoms shows a lack of respect for my welfare and also a lack of responsibility for his own. Both of those things suck.

    But you know what’s really hot?

    When a guy wraps it up, no questions asked, and even takes initiative and responsibility for protecting against pregnancy and infection. When he does things like, you know, ask me how I want to handle it and gets out a condom himself.

    I’m so trained to equate condoms with truly hot sex that I’m like Pavlov’s dogs. Far from creating an odd moment out, for me I see those square little wrappers appear from pockets and bedside drawers and I get excited. I know what comes next!

    The safer I feel with someone, the more uninhibited I feel. Everyone knows that inhibitions can really get in the way, and I’ve got to say, feeling uninhibited leads to some pretty amazingly hot encounters.

    Monologues are independent personal stories. The opinions shared are the writer’s own.