Before we officially begin: I'm going to use the term "Vanilla" a few times in this entry. For those of you who might be confused, I'm not talking about the seasoning commonly used in baking. It's another term for straight people. If you're the type that thinks it's an offensive term, I'm not sorry. The following entry serves only to illustrate the variance in cultural views I experience around sexuality and relationships. In the short span of three weekends, I've run the gamut of involvement. Come along with me, dear readers.
Also on the invite list was an incredibly handsome gentleman with sky-blue eyes and the type of hands that I couldn't stop thinking about. At any of the variations of sex parties I attend, he's the type of guy that I'd go up to and directly express interest in. In an otherwise Vanilla setting where I was otherwise presenting as Frisbee's girlfriend, I had absolutely no idea what route I was supposed to take. On the one hand I figured I should just play the monogamous girlfriend role and let this guy inhabit the realm of masturbatory fantasy. On the other hand...his hands.
What followed was an incredibly awkward conversation where I pulled him into the kitchen under the pretense of asking him a question.
"I'd be interested in making out with your face if you're into it?"
"I thought you were here with somebody?"
"Yeah, but we're in an open relationship. I already told him I was going to do this. He's okay with it. Maybe we could just exchange numbers?"
Long story short, I did get those digits, but it didn't wind up going anywhere.
The following weekend, Now-hubby and I attended a CPP together where there was a guest of honor who I had a pretty significant Internet crush on. Another situation where I wasn't entirely sure of the decorum. There were at least twenty other people at the party, and I didn't want to monopolize his time if there were others who wanted to interact with him (in any capacity).
During the social hour of the party, I limited interaction to introducing myself and asking if I could give him a hug. After social time, the hosts read the rules of the party and we all got into smaller groups to practice talking about our safer-sex practices and saying "yes" and "no" to other people authentically. Then the metaphorical "the party's starting" gong was rung, and I went ahead with my usual routine of getting naked. I then walked up to the guest of honor and asked if I could give him a naked hug, and told him I had been nervous about monopolizing his time.
"I've been waiting ever since you walked in the door to get time with you. Monopolize me."
This past weekend, I traveled sans either significant other to a women's Ultimate tournament downstate. After our games on Saturday, the team crammed into one hotel room for some serious sleepover silliness.
During a game of Never Have I Ever, 50% of the room admitted to not being sure if they'd ever had an orgasm. 30% had never masturbated.
This was a college tournament. In this small, hotel room sample of 20-something women, 50% were unsure if they'd ever cum during sex. The average number of sexual partners was five. 30% of the women weren't sure on an individual level what type of stimulation they liked the best. That's 20 years of not being in tune with their own bodies, and at least five different sexual partners who didn't help clarify anything. Which, being the responsible adult in the room, led to me discussing the finer points of kegels, vibrators, and "good" porn.