Category Archives: Ranty ones
Here’s why ‘klittra’ isn’t a great word for female masturbation
What’s your commute to work like? Is it one of those normal ones where you get on a bus or train or into a fancy-pants car? Or is it a female commute? Do you eat breakfast, or female breakfast? When you take a piss, is it just, like, a regular piss or do you partake in female urination?
Today someone tweeted me a link to an article ‘what do you call female masturbation?‘ As you might be able to tell I have some Thoughts On This Topic.
In answer to the question: wanking. I call it wanking. Sometimes I will try to mix it up by talking about a hand-shandy or rubbing one out. If I’m feeling particularly coy, then I may refer to it as ‘alone time’ or taking a ‘freelancer’s nap.’ But in general, I rarely refer to what I do on my own with a sleazy fantasy and a fistful of glass dildo as ‘female masturbation.’
The article was about the new word ‘klittra’ – an invented word, being promoted by the Swedish Association for Sexual Education, because “If we don’t have a word in the language, how can we even talk about it?”
Hmm…
How to get better at dating
It’s rare that I get the opportunity to offer a really specific piece of advice. As a general rule, when people email me to ask “how do I get laid though?” or “can you tell me how to make people fall in love with me?” my answers will be the kind of fence-sitting waffle you’d expect from someone who isn’t paid per word to clickbait. Because the truth is generally not very clickbait-friendly. “Top ten ways you suck at dating” sounds way better than “well everyone’s attracted to different things and it’s all a bit more complicated than that.”
However, every now and then, something arises on which I can offer solid, useful advice. I’m as shocked as you are, but here goes – my number one tip for being better at dating:
No blog today
Every week I post new blogs on Wednesday and Sunday. This week, for the first time in ages, I’m not putting one up. Sorry about that.
Sometimes life is too crowded. Sometimes I’m knackered. Sometimes things happen that mean the post which sounded perfect in my head just needs a bit more work. And sometimes I recognise the irony of ignoring sex in favour of writing about sex because Oh My God I Need To Get Something Live On Sunday.
So: today’s post will go up tomorrow. I will feel massive guilt, even though realistically the world won’t stop turning. If you’re horrified at my efficiency failing, please join my club: feel free to subscribe to get updates when new blogs go up in case I fuck up my schedule again in the future, or peruse the archives if you want some filth in the meantime.
I appreciate that believing people care even one tenth as much as I do is extraordinarily narcissistic. But I currently live in a cycle where I apologise for everything, so one thing extra can’t hurt.
Now I’m off to skive, and spend Sunday doing whatever people who don’t write sex blogs do on a Sunday. What… umm… what do people who don’t write sex blogs do on a Sunday? I’ll investigate.
Sorry.
G
x
Let’s stop pretending these are female turn ons
A long time ago someone published a book called ‘Porn for Women.’ Don’t get too excited, it isn’t actually porn. It was simply a collection of different images of guys doing the hoovering, washing, and other household tasks. In this ‘porn for women LOL’ hilarious trope, guys are occasionally tantalisingly half-dressed but never doing the kind of thing I’d consider genuinely horny: masturbating on the sofa, or poised halfway to sitting down on a butt plug – that kind of thing. I would be surprised if – barring a few people with very niche fetishes – anyone’s actually ever wanked to it.
I was reminded of it recently when someone (I don’t remember who and I don’t want to drop them in it even if I could) tweeted a list of ‘top female turn-ons’ which looked suspiciously like this book. The list included such gems as ‘listen attentively when she tells you about her day’ and ‘take the garbage out.’ I don’t know about you, but I’m more likely to have actual, satisfying sex with my own vacuum cleaner than to orgasm while thinking about a guy begrudgingly hauling bin bags to the front garden.
I do not sit at home frigging myself trembly over the idea of my partner picking up a hoover. I do not get wet just because someone is listening attentively while I speak, unless perhaps that person is Tyrion Lannister and what we’re discussing is just how hard he’d fuck me.
Not all men (a radio drama in three parts)
I’m 100% sure I’ll get shit for this, but I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for ages, and now feels like as good a time as any to crack it out.
I’ve been asked a few times why ‘not all men’ annoys me, and I’ve struggled to explain just why the response seems so illogical. So I wrote a long-winded analogy, in the form of a radio drama. And given that #BlameOneNotAll – a hashtag which aims to shed light on the not-in-any-way-surprising truth that not all men are rapists, I thought now’s as good a time as any.