Sexual Cynic: Women's Health, Always Looking Out For the Little Guy

So the blog has been very fitness-centric lately. Run, run, run, yoga, yoga, yoga, blah, blah, blah: let's talk about sex (baby) already! And it's true - it is high time I turn my attention away from my lady crush on Tracy Anderson, and towards the potential benefits of doing her sadistic butt and thighs workout. I mean, living at home with my parents has doubtless killed my mojo, but what is the point of losing weight and getting in shape if no one is going to see these almost-abs of mine? And as you know, I am a very modest young lady, which means no torso bearing garments for me - the only answer is full frontal nudity. Hopefully in a consensual-for-all parties environment. Though the prospect of becoming a baffling female flasher does have its appeal.

And one more brief aside: when I type "Women's" into my search engine, it first pops up the link to the Women's Health "Best Sex Positions Ever!" site - second is shopbop.com. What does this say about me? It says I am the worst feminist ever.

So here is a true story - it happened to a friend of a friend of mine - and I call it...

Flatiron

Holy shit - a sex position named after a hairstyling tool that I want nowhere near my vagina - please, for the love of God, tell me more Women's Health. But wait, hold your horses, before we delve into the glory of this toe-curling-orgasm-waiting-to-happen, you need to know how Women's Health guided me to this position. It turns out that you can set a series of criteria to help WH generate the position best suited to you and your man's abilities. And so, because I thought it would be funny, but also maybe realistic, I set my standards low: Flatiron is the position recommended for completely inflexible women having sex with poorly endowed minute men. Enjoy! But how?

You lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised.

I am not against the idea of sex on your belly per-se - I'm as lazy as the next girl, so positions that transfer as quickly as possible from sex to nap are bomb in my books - but I really wish it showed us her face. You know, so this looked a little less smothery, rapey, found-you-taking-a-naked-nap-and-went-to-towny. I don't know if I'm just being a prude (ok, yes, I do know I'm being a prude) but there is something about this that doesn't scream consensual sex. But now, flushing images of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo out of my awful mind, what exactly are our benefits-a-plenty that we shall reap from this particular tantric foray? 

This position creates a snug fit. Your guy’s stuff will seem even larger.  

His stuff? What, like his car keys and day's receipts? You construct an entire manual on sexual positions and you can't throw out words like member, shaft, or even, dare I suggest it, penis? (The Sexual Cynic would like to take a moment here to clarify that she in no way approves of the use of the word member outside of trashy harlequin romance excerpts found in the back of Cosmo. It's use should be limited at all times, if not out-right prohibited. Thank you.) So here we go though! If you aren't taking time out from your Cirque du Soliel doubles training with your massively endowed man-friend to have sex, here's an alternative! But again, the "snug fit" thing screams "not supposed to be having sex in this position" which screams "non-consensual sex." Just a bit? But at least your guy's STUFF will seem larger while you're shaking away mental anxiety about a possible penchant for rape fantasies. What bonus should we add into this sexy and considerate mix, WH?

Some shallow thrusts and deep breathing will help him last longer.

I don't even know what to say. Thank you. Thank you WH for realizing that the owness for good sex isn't based solely on a woman's in-depth magazine research - there's (sometimes) a guy there too. And he's gots to work, damn it. I must admit here that reading this suggestion makes me snigger a bit. And I feel awful. I get that this is a problem, but it really feels like WH staff sat around and thought "ok - let's come up with a position for guys who suck in bed." This position really is crafted for a guy with a minuscule penis who just doesn't have longevity. I'm shocked the bonus doesn't include doing 2-4 shots of tequila (but no more, for the love of God!) - I hear that makes it nay-impossible to, cough, arrive early. But for all the flack I give WH for holding us to unrealistic sexual standards, they finally realized that sex in real life, sadly, sometimes involved small penises and premature ejaculation.

A toast to you, Women's Health - Looking out for sexual underdogs since this lone position was unearthed and was christened the Flatiron.



ohmyGod - is Flatiron a small penis joke?  

Sexual Cynic: Wait...I Was Doing It Wrong?

It has been ages since the Sexual Cynic has emerged, and for that, I am truly sorry. I actually gave my number to a guy recently, a guy I actually kinda like (whoa!) so I may have been resistant to reminding myself of the horrors that could lie in store if said guy picks up phone to call me, date(s) go well, and we end up in a bedroom  confronting the baffling array of positions which people who have sex more than once annually are engaging in. So overwhelming. But, as a lover of audiobooks, high waisted leopard print shorts and cats, I am also a huge proponent of self-love. And guess what. The folks at Women's Health Magazine have that covered...

 Couch Grind

I hope we are all having the same reaction here: "people need to be told how to masturbate?" followed swiftly by "And Women's Health is telling them to masturbate using a picnic blanket on an armchair???"
This is not the only "solo" position that WH recommends though - it's simply one of six helpful  suggestions(I would have said "handy suggestions," but puns aren't really my thing). Others include a bubblebath and looking into your own eyes with a hand mirror! I cannot even explain how horrified I am by that suggestion; you may recall my resistance to extended eye contact during coitus, so you can only imagine how I feel about self-eye-contact. I feel creepy. And I am a narcissist - that is just taking things too far. But I digress from the position at hand. Ok WH, how do I get myself off in this instance?

Ride the arm of a stuffed chair or couch, or the edge of a table or desk with a thick towel or blanket folded over it. Start with a small movement of the hips, and slowly build momentum.

Um. This may be a bit too American Beauty but my mum has never even let me sit on the arm of a couch, let alone make sweet love to it. It just doesn't strike me as a structurally sound endeavour, though I do appreciate the clarification that the arm should be stuffed (but tables and desks?). Do not try this with Ikea furniture ladies, lest you have some awkward explaining next time your dinner guests start asking why all your furniture resembles kindling. Really, unless you're fulfilling some deep-seated Beauty and the Beast fantasies - for which I would strongly recommend counselling over towel-chair masturbation - I just don't think it's necessary to associate all your living spaces and furniture with your own uncontrollable horniness which no man can/will satisfy.

my sentiments exactly

So why, oh why, would you do this?

Great if you like solid, steady pressure on your clitoris.

Fair enough, but I think that someone misunderstood their harlequin romances when they talked about the solid steady pressure of wood against our heroine's clitoris...

Ok, ok, so what, if not simply clitoral orgasms, is the added benefit we can mix into this equation?

Grip the arm with your thighs and have your guy enter you from behind like the Doggy Style position. Just make sure not to break any furniture.

Ok, I feel very betrayed right now. Even in a guide about solo sexual acrobatics, WH suggests involving a second party? That shit wouldn't fly in singles figure skating and it don't fly with me. It gives the impression that the women for whom WH is writing are sexually satisfied yet adventurous women in relationships who just also require self-induced orgasms. For the glow or whatever. They could involve their partner at any point if they wanted. The alternative that some women masturbate because dearGodsomanymensuck does not really seem to occur to our charming writers.

That said, it does provide a convenient out if a gentleman you're willing to have sex with does catch you dry humping your sofa: "Oh...I was just waiting for you to join me..." That said, you're still stuck without a paddle if a parent or superintendant or most people with eyes catch you instead.

Why can't we just get off by hand, battery operated penis-simulacra or removable showerheads like in the good ol' days?

The Sexual Cynic: Sexual Harassment in the Workplace in the Bedroom

So this time around, when choosing a position to eviscerate, I took advantage of a hilarious link that says "Spin to Get Lucky." There aren't exclamation marks there, but there certainly should be. If spinning is all one needs to do to get lucky, my universe-imposed celibacy is even more mind boggling. But I am overjoyed I did spin, because it means that next up on the chopping block is...

The Chairman

I can't imagine the team meeting that took place where the staff of Women's Health had to sit around and come up with names for these positions, particularly when some of them look nearly identical. I can only imagine someone saying, amidst the ubiquitous boardroom-meeting bagels and starbucks that tv has led me to believe are mandated in corporate America, "Hey, why don't we make corporate patriarchy sexy again?" Voila: The Chairman. The fact that this position is nearly identical (in my humble opinion) to the position they have christened The Champagne Room, inadvertently speaks volumes about the nature of sex and gender in business: why, there is no difference between the domination and aggression of a CEO and the douchebaggery committed by guys in strip clubs in the eyes of the first-rate writers at Women's Health! Women are objects for the sexual gratification of men, in the boardroom and in the stripclub - now hold onto that racy though and lets take it to the bedroom. Sexy!

Ok, I confess that I may read some feminist literature every now and again, but seriously, doesn't this position just scream "naughty secretary fantasy" and doesn't that, in turn, just scream sexual harassment? But, should you be indifferent to patriarchy and partial to sex on the edge of the bed, here's how you achieve it:

He sits on the edge of the bed and you sit on him, facing away.

Shit. They are clearly onto me at WH. Despite the fact that this is fairly vague, there's nothing overly objectionable. I apologize - I've let you down. I promise I'll have better luck once we consider the Benefits:

This move will hit the spot…as in your G-spot. Good for G-spot stimulation while you can use your hands to stimulate his scrotum or perineum.

The first sentence screams bad sitcom up-speak sex joke, at which point the studios play both the laugh and groan tracks. So lets hope the benefits aren't limited to the joy I genuinely get at poorly executed sex jokes. Oh yeah, oh yeah. Your G spot. Cool. But you want me to do what? Stimulate his scrotum or perineum? Ok, sure, I'll play along, but how? Note that our heroine is leaning away from her man friend, and does not have her feet securely on the floor. Which not only begs the question "how do you actually move, once in this pose? Or is this one of those weird tantric things I don't believe in again?" but also, "how do I keep from plummeting off the bed? Is he supposed to hold on to me? What if I don't sleep with men with any measurable upper-body strength? Or is his scrotum/perineum supposed to function as reigns of some sort?"

Lesson? Do not ask me to stimulate your scrotum, gentlemen. Finally, how can we ramp up the heat with a racy bonus?

Bring your knees closer to your chest, supporting your feet on the bed.

Excuse me, what? Remember my curiosity about how you're supposed to move in this position? Yeah, never would I have imagined bringing my feet up next to the party would be the answer. I am a strong proponent of the entirely racist belief that only people from the continent of Asia can actually squat comfortably with their feet flat on the ground - so people from the continent of Asia, hit this position up! Do IT! If you're not, however, I predict you will garner some truly unflattering rolls in your attempt to achieve the illusive squat. And also, do you really want your sex position to share the name that indicates road-side urination? And while I have strong thighs, I don't think I would be able to hold myself a quarter inch above his business for more than about 30 seconds before I would literally somersault backwards over him.
Land it.
Throw hands up.
Wait for judges results.

Sexual Cynic: Stop Ruining Yoga

I felt the general response to my previous post concerning the appalling mattress contortionism demanded of us by women's magazines was positive, bold-faced vaginas and all. I am not alone! Well, actually, I am in fact - alone that is - so when a gentleman at the bar last night suggested we go home together - and I can only presume from there we would churn butter - I thought it was high time for another look at this Women's Health list of suggested positions to see what exactly I was turning down.

So, submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story...

The Om

 Ok, I challenged myself a little more this time around. This one doesn't look like something a horny 12-year-old boy imagined sex could be like. This is the product of the minds of horny 20-something-year-old girls: imagining that all their sex will be intimate tantric love making on silk fuscia sheets in the middle of a vaguely pastel blue ether. The Om is the single romantic's wet dream (and anyone in a relationship who has progressed to the "get in, get off, get out, get napping" phase). I do realize that I am going to come across as a bitter, disillusioned single girl whose only chance at sexual intimacy comes in the form of grinding during the vocal stylings of Ja Rule, but this really just doesn't strike me at the hot new sex position you have to try in order to attain better, longer, deeper orgasms, or whatever the hell GlamourCosmoWomen's Health is shilling this as. It seems like the sex you have to try to attain longer, deeper hip flexor cramps. But before I further illustrate why my serious long-term live in relationship is with a 4-year-old feline, let's look at how you get into this pose:

He sits cross-legged (yoga-style), you sit in his lap facing him. Wrap your legs around him and hug each other for support.

Ok, so obviously I take issue with using yoga as inspiration for sex. It creeps me out, and it kinda perverts the entire purpose and spirituality behind yoga, and this position doesn't even make an attempt to veil that. Why? The logic seems to be "Yoga. From India. Also from India, the Karma Sutra. Yoga = Exotic Orientalist sex!" I only skimmed Edward Said, but this explanation seems to be derived from the same condensed, over simplified, kinda-colonialist and fairly-racist thought that led 17th century explorers to believe that Asian women had sideways vaginas (I know there exist illustrations of this, but 30 seconds of google searching has made me feel far too perverted and racist to endure, so take my word for it, people thought that).
Another objection I have is over the idea of getting off in a man's lap. The word specifically, not the geography. Laps are innocent. Laps are for little ridiculous dogs, kids asking Santa for stuff their parents can't afford, and little girls having their dad's explain to them the rules of football, and I really resent its use in a sex guide. Like, lets call a spade a spade; sit in his crotch. If your going to throw around specific anatomical terminology, we don't need to sugarcoat what's going on with phrasing most often associated with children and animals, ok? [note:  "crotch" is specific anatomical terminology, right?]
Though, to be fair, why, Women's Health, do I want to do this?
Best for tantric sex. Rocking, not thrusting, is the key when it comes to this very intimate position.
I'll keep this brief, since my inner po-mo feminist theorist exploded all over the place up there. First: I strongly maintain that Sting and only Sting has tantric sense. With Sting. And second: rocking?
Oh oh, what are the bonuses, since you've already ruined the child-associated terminology of laps and rocking?
Lock into each other’s deep gaze to put some extra “oh” into the big O.
No. Again, I have been single for a while, I cannot stress this enough, but I refuse to believe that eye contact will have any impact different than the impact headlights have on road deer. I want to be either close enough that I can only see small blurry portions of your face, or facing away from you so I can pretend you're Kunal Nayyar

...by the way, that is entirely a teaser for next time...

Until then, enjoy your missionary and/or doggy style and/or woman on top sex that I know you're all really having. I'm going to go eat some applesauce.

The Sexual Cynic, inaugural post

I have come up with a brilliant new instalment for this blog: The Sexual Cynic.

You may notice I don't talk about sex much on my blog. No, my mom doesn't read it (but friends' moms do I think...sorry). It's less an issue of decency and moral censorship and more a case of it not being relevant to my life. In that I'm single. And don't go out. And don't take home strange. And know no men who aren't closeted homosexuals or trying to sell me pyramid-scheme vitamins.

Perhaps I've been out of the game too long, but after a recent (and hilariously public) discussion and pantomime of various sex positions and their relative virtues, I am considering the fact that I have been having sex all wrong for ages. I thought "showers - now that's racy." But as a compliment to our discussion, one of my more sexually adventurous compatriots shared a link to Women's Health Magazine's "Best Sex Positions Ever." And, since my thesis is due next week, I've obviously and logically started perusing these watercoloured roadmaps to better orgasms. Because I am a masochist. But also because, fuck, I don't get it. I find myself gaping at them with hardly contained laughter, listing in my mind (and not out loud, thank God - I'm in the library!) the physical impossibilities and improbable scenarios where these positions would seem ideal.

And maybe I'm a lone prude, but I thought you, kind readers, might be fascinated as well by what is being passed off as the pinnacle of sexual enjoyment and par for the course of bedroom acrobatics, as well as amused by my blatant mockery of such suggestions.

So I will start with:

The Butter Churner

Ok. Based on the picture alone, nay the title, I know you must be giving me some mental flack about choosing the most easily mockable sex pose of the bunch. But honestly, this was the one that, upon viewing, my floodgates for ludicrous boudoir patronizing and bizarre watercolours broke way - there are many more ridiculous positions which I will happily mock in future, but this is the position which inspired an entire instalment of sex bloggery. So let's give it it's dues. A quick word about the watercolours. I find the watercolour approach gives a veneer of ease, serentity and intimacy that the "hey, want to try sex on your head" reality just can't conform with. It is the visual equivalent of writing in italics. And it's obnoxious. 

Moving swiftly past the depiction itself - because no one has any idea what's going on here, let's be real - here is the explanation of this position:

Lie on your back with your legs raised and folded over so that your ankles are on either side of your head, while he squats and dips his penis in and out of your vagina

Ok, so first of all, this is yoga. Actually. It's called Plough pose. Which has apparently been confused by the sexologists of Women's Health with Plow Pose. And it isn't particularly easy, and does not lend itself to comfortable long holds - it can be very hard on your back. That is without someone sitting on your hips. Oh sorry, I mean "dipping his penis in and out of your vagina." Dipping might be the worst sex verb ever employed. It makes me think of lowering a bucket into a well, and dear God, if that's what this position is like, lady, get yourself to a plastic surgeon stat. 

But that's not all. Now that we know the "How," Women's Health reveals the "Why???" ...sorry...I mean the benefits: 

Aside from getting that eye contact, the extra rush of blood into your head will increase the ecstasy. 

Take a moment. Grab a camera or handheld mirror. Hold it by your belly (or, for the bust-blessed, your chest). Now, touch your chin to you collarbones. Look into that mirror. That is the sexy eye contact you will be making. Or perhaps, have to try your damnedest to maintain so that the gentleman doing jumpsquats over your lady business wont notice you have 4 chins. Minimum. Also, the extra rush of blood to the head manifests itself as a tomato red face. I'm sure you know - or at least have inferred from viewing Twilight - how blood is red? Yeah...

Finally, my favourite part of this inane guide, the suggested bonus, in case this isn't hot and racy enough on its own:

Have him dribble chocolate syrup or honey into your mouth. It gets more of your senses involved and amps up the whole experience.

I've never heard the "more senses involved" logic behind food-sex, but doesn't a mint strike you as the easier solution. I am firmly in the "mint" school of sex thought. I can't believe that that is my initial reaction though - I think I've had to just suspend all reality in order to mentally digest this suggestion. This guy, doing squats - I mean, I honestly hope he's a minute man, because I know nothing less than a rugby coach screaming at me and shaming me in front of my teammates has compelled me to do squats for more than 2 minutes straight - is, in his state of physical exhaustion (and I would assume sexual frustration), expected to grab a can of Hershey's chocolate sauce and dribble it all over your 89 chins? Where are you having this Cirque De Soliel sex that you have both the traction to maintain the position as well as the complete absence of fear of dribbling chocolate sauce on something that can be ruined? Obviously not a Persian rug - dry cleaners and Persian carpet weavers do not take kindly to the "I was having yoga sex with ice cream condiments" explanation for a ruined throw carpet. The only answer that is even remotely feasible to me is yoga mat. And we've come full circle. As someone who actually does yoga, I would rather yoga be about yoga, lest I open my mind to the possibility that I am being ogled by perverts in yoga class who have come to improve upon their sexual dexterity. I don't want to chant "Ohm" in that context. And if you don't do yoga, sorry friend, this position is going to be very uncomfortable. I find it uncomfortable and I've practised yoga regularly for almost three years now.

Summary: Never. Going. To. Happen.

Oh, and if you never want to see this kind of shit again, what with the liberal presence of bold face "vagina" spattered throughout, I will reconsider my new hobby, just let me know...