How You (I) Feel When You Discover You've (I've) Dated a Sex Offender

I just found out someone I dated a couple years ago is a pedophile. Maybe in this case statutory rapist is the appropriate term? Yet, sex with a minor has a sweeter tone. I’ll stick with that. Minor sex. Sex with a minor. So I Googled this guy last night. You know, a quick scan. A what-is-he-up-to-now kind of thing. We only dated for two months – actually less, like 52 days – but I suddenly became intrigued to know where he had ended up. I expected nothing to pop up on Google. Nothing did when I first met him two years ago. But this time, when I pressed the button, hundreds of hits appeared. Key words: Teacher Arrested, Felony, Sex Abuse, Minor and oddly enough Avocados. It all went down in a Midwestern state, which makes the avocados even odder.

 I went on interior mode, having flashbacks: he used to love taking me out to ice cream and had insisted that I call his penis “Sir Cocks-a-lot,” like some sort of Penis Charming that was going to save my cunt from her evil step-sisters, which are often called hands, and whisk her away to a fairyland called coitus-ville. Oh, and come to think of it, the first time I met him, he asked me if I was old enough to vote. He did look a little disappointed when I said yes, but I blamed the slight funk he fell into on the bean burrito he’d just had from a taco shop. I know what it’s like to have bad gas. Were these all signs that I just didn’t read right?

The last time I saw him was in a coffee shop. The village. We’d already broken up. It had to be done. I just couldn’t handle the way he always tried to feed me banana mush and cooed at me while I was trying to go to sleep. Ok, that didn’t actually happen, but he did ask me to shave. Yes, of course, “down there." Complete bald eagle style (or maybe, in this case, it should be called newborn sleek). I think he was lying about the chafing. I knew it didn’t chafe. My mons pubis grows proteins that are as soft to lay on as a bearskin rug. After lights out, was he actually trying to conjure up images of pre-pubescent tween?

On our final visit, we sat across from each other, coffee in hand. Wait, he didn’t have coffee. He didn’t like it. Too bitter, he’d said. He had hot chocolate (with marshmallows). He wanted to say goodbye. He was leaving town. He said the school system in the city was too fucked up for him to properly operate. When he took students to lunch off-campus, he’d get in trouble. He couldn’t even talk to them – his 15-year-old female students - on the phone. I arched my eyebrows. I swear I did. They were arched! I had a face expressing quite a bit of skepticism. Promise. But he explained that he was a highly invested teacher with out-of-the-box tendencies. He wanted to teach his students more than the boring lessons, verbatim, from math texts. I guess, in a way, he was telling the truth.

I’m grossed out and feel embarrassed. It feels icky (ICKY!) to have trusted someone with such bad judgment. I’m learning stuff anyway: don’t Google men who you’ve dated! And meanwhile, as it all soaks in, I’m trying to take the whole episode as a compliment. I mean, maybe I have aged much less than my years.

Avo-fucking-cado!

*some facts have been changed to hide identity

Some Sexy Suggestions (for people with penises)

Tomorrow I have an interview scheduled with KRZR - a Fresno radio station I've never heard of before, but love because they care about what an outed (former) anorgasmic girl thinks and can add to the cultural climax conversation. 

It's with a dude called The Rev who wants to "pull back the curtain" about women's orgasm and inform men how they can satisfy. I pondered his questions and brainstormed with the lovely Zola (think Zorro of the clit) and we came up with some good stuff. I thought I would give you a quick preview. 

Tips for Men:

1. The clit is where it's at. Most women experience orgasm through clitoral touch - finger, mouth, or by fucking and getting a grind on the clit.  

2. Women aren't ready to fuck as soon as a guy has an erection. Women should be nice and engorged before having intercourse. That means a substantial amount of foreplay. In Zola's fabulously vivid words, "You shouldn't be putting anything in there until the woman can sit on the floor and spin like a top." (If you're really going to test that, be sure it's not carpeted flooring).

3. Watch your woman masturbate. Buy her a toy (don't be cheap with the toy...she's going to put this in and around the most precious part of her body). Tell her you think it's sexy when she touches herself. Observe her moves and responses. Next time you've got your fingers (or whatever) on her, have some flashbacks about the masturbation session and imitate. 

4. Have a night with unilateral giving. You are the only one pleasing her. No quid pro quo action here. It's all about HER epidermal area. Get it? If she doesn't have to worry or even think about putting her pucker on your pee-pee, she'll be able to lose herself  in her own experience. Not only will she love it, but you'll probably get a sympathetic giving gasm. 

5. Now this is crucial-fundamental-necessary-important-can't-do-without-kind-of stuff right here. You must ALWAYS be encouraging! Never give a woman shame for not responding sexually the way the actresses in your porno films do. Tell her that her pleasure is paramount to you. And then give her space to tell you what she wants (a little left, up, to the right, the twist, shimmy...WHATEVER!). This is not a form of emasculation; it is communication. Then do what she says. And then tell her she's hot or whatever other fabulous sexy things you're thinking.

Women (gays, transexuals, hermaphrodites, androids...) can also use these tips for their partners.  There are several million other tips out there, but this is what I got for the moment (Thanks to Zola, too!). Enjoy!

Accolades

If I had the chance to meet and have a beer with any living literary figure, I'd choose Tom Robbins (on an acid trip). Though he wasn't on an acid trip and I didn't so much get to have a beer with him as much as have one in his proximity, last night was nonetheless amazing.

He was celebrating the publication of his new book, B is for Beer, at the Brooklyn Brewery. (I'm taking note: when you get to his status, you apparently get to call your publicist a  Beer Wench.) He read an intriguing story that concluded  with security extracting things (and people) such as Amelia Earhart, the Great American Novel, Middle-Class Morality, a banana and so much more from an anal orifice. My orifice doesn't hold a candle to that.

Anyway, I gave him a copy of my book (and two of his own to sign). This is what Tom Robbins is saying about Thanks for Coming:

"What a topic," he said. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to read that." 

If that's not a blurb meant to sell millions, then I don't know what is. 

First Reading

My first reading occurred Tuesday. It was at Barnes and Noble Park Slope. The smelling salts didn't need to see the light of day -  thank goodness - because i didn't pass out!!! And I believe my total stutters only equaled two (or five). It was a little disconcerting at the very beginning when I warned that the word 'pussy' would be used and a woman in the front row immediately got up and put her copy of my orgasm manifesto back on the shelf, but she was probably lead to believe otherwise since we were located in the bible section. The pussy prophecy right next to stories of creation...it actually kind of made sense. 

I read a letter that I wrote to my pussy per a sex worker's advice and an interview with my grandparents about their orgasms. It's a sweet little passage. Each time i read it, it makes me think growing old with someone might be nice. Better than nice. actually good. that's all i'm going to say about that for now.

Afterward, I answered some questions and brought up a mediocre review I got in the San Francisco Chronicle (note to self: only bring up glowing reviews when trying to sell a book), but a black fur-coat clad woman in the audience interrupted, saving me from myself. Thank you! 

Barry Komisaruk and Nan Wise, the two scientists who study orgasm in the brain and who tried to help me re-jigger all my orgasm gear during the book, arrived just as the festivities were ending. But I thank them and everyone else so much for coming.

Becoming a Cartoon...

Does wonders for your rack. 

you can check out the accompanying article at:

http://www.nypress.com/article-19652-flavor-of-the-week-a-private-journey.html

Coming Out...

I've realized that admitting to one's anorgasmia is like how coming out was in the 1950's, but without the coming. 

Blog Mission Statement...

Orgasm is pleasure. And pleasure can be expanded beyond the bedroom - flowers blooming, a decadent piece of cake, narrowly avoiding a piece of dog crap on the sidewalk. Small pleasures. Big ones. Weird ones. Whatever!

In this blog, I will give Thanks for Coming updates, but I will also explore pleasures of all types. I welcome people to email me what brings them pleasure as well as any orgasm-related questions, advice or epiphanies (while researching my book, I found many people experienced ah-ha moments during climax). One woman said that as she went "over the edge," she realized she had to get out of accounting and into something a little more pleasurable. She's a dog walker now (not my idea of pleasure, but to each their own).

I plan to have some guest bloggers (pleasure connoisseurs) every once in a while. Most likely, they will be people who played a role in Thanks for Coming. 

I invite you to come to the book launch party on Tuesday the 14th. You can find more info on the Thanks for Coming Facebook page. Like the half-reptilian woman above, you will be able to enjoy some freshly baked chocolate chip marshmallow cookies at the party. It should be a very pleasurable time. 

YES!

It works!

testing.testing.testing...

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