Please note that, while I am a therapist, my “Ask Me Anything” forums are not therapy, but are intended for your education and enjoyment.You can view this AMA on Reddit.
Please note that, while I am a therapist, my “Ask Me Anything” forums are not therapy, but are intended for your education and enjoyment.You can view this AMA on Reddit.
Making sexuality a part of your clinical work is absolutely essential. Let’s start by looking at why this is so.
Sexuality is where the body and psychology come together without trying. Our sexual dynamics in partner sex, as well as in masturbation, are a stripped-down version of our m.o. The body speaks in clear and simple terms. What happens when someone is using her body so directly for experience and communication is the clearest possible message about what it’s like for her to relate to herself and to others. It is for this very reason that the sexual self is a primary interest in a client’s self-exploration in therapy. But do not expect your clients to be the one to broach the subject. More importantly, do not confuse a client’s reticence with a lack of desire, or even a lack of willingness, to explore their sexual life.
When I was 17, I was at a pool party with my friends and I brought up the topic of masturbation. I was aware that it was taboo, but when it came up organically in a discussion, it suddenly seemed silly to me to hold back from commenting. So I didn’t. And the response was pretty intense! Everyone there exclaimed some version of surprise, relief and excitement about the unfolding conversation. “You do that, too? Oh my god! I thought I was the only one!” I was happy and relieved that bringing it up went well, and amused at how little it took to get the discussing going. I was also a little angry. Why had we been so secretive? Something needed to change. For me this moment solidified my understanding of the need for an invitation.
Sexuality is sacred, but that does not mean it has to be secretive. We tend to like to keep it private, but secretive can breed misunderstanding and shame. Sexuality is a thing to be explored and understood and wondered at. And we could all use a little help with exploration of such a powerful force. Many clients simply don’t realize that it’s ok to talk about sex. Follow their pace, but let them know that it’s a welcome and important topic.
If you’d like to make this part of your practice, here’s how to successfully navigate this territory, especially if you feel hesitant:
1. Know your own sexual self. This is no different than the ongoing work of being a therapist: You must know yourself well, and know how to continue to do so, before you can assist others.
2. Know your facts and/or where to find them. Learn all of the basic facts you can, and develop go-to resources for yourself as well as your clients. As with any topic that arises in the room, be mindful of your blindspots, and be sure that your self-education includes the following:
While being informed is important, do not be held back by the feeling of not knowing enough facts. Your training and experience as a therapist will guide you here, as it would with any other topic that arises in the room. As always, it is ideal for you to be a little ahead of the game, but your willingness to engage in the exploration is often enough for you to be of service to the client. This does not apply to trauma awareness.
3. Cultivate a matter-of-fact tone. One of the main qualities shared by my favorite sexologists is that they all speak matter-of-factly. Sex is a big deal, but it also just isn’t that big of a deal. You will help to normalize the discussion by speaking about it with confidence and directness. I strongly encourage you to practice speaking aloud about sex. You will encounter any stuck places very quickly! Penis! Cunt! Fucking! Dildos! This leads me to my next point.
4. Have a sense of humor. Be willing to laugh. This also helps with normalization, and it can bring a little relief into the room. As is often the case with laughter in therapy, there may be a need for you to clarify what you’re laughing at and why. It is very important not to perpetuate any shame for your client, which is rampant when it comes to sex. But laughter can be healing when it comes to shame. And sex is just funny sometimes! Sometimes your cat watches you, sometimes you run out of lube at an inopportune time, sometimes the body makes funny noises, and sometimes things just get a little awkward. Your client will benefit enormously from being able to laugh about sex. Show them how.
When you feel ready, make sure that clients and prospective clients know that sexual exploration is part of your skill set. Check that box for “sexual issues” on those therapist search engines. And make use of me! I offer one on one coaching for psychotherapists, as well as case consultation.
I was thrilled when this gent agreed to let me interview him for my sexual outsider series, because he takes swank and chivalry to a deeply fun and sexy level. Every time I’ve seen him, he has been dressed to the nines, togged to the bricks, hittin’ on all sixes from head to ground grippers in fabulous vintage attire. I was thrilled to learn that being part of the vintage scene is completely intertwined with his kink life. What a combo! He is just the cat’s pajamas (where the pajamas are authentic vintage, and get used to tie a girl up at the end of the night).
One of the first things you told me when we began to talk about doing an interview was that you wanted to share your process of consciously choosing to expand out from “vanilla” sex. I think that the desire to do this is something a lot of people can relate to, though not everyone chooses to embrace. So how have you come to consider yourself a sexual outsider, and what was your process like?
I consider myself a sexual outsider for several reasons, the most cliché of them probably being that I like things, people, places, and acts that society generally frowns upon. Those things usually revolve around my core of kinks. I like to do things or have things done to me that make people generally uncomfortable. I am an outsider because vanilla sex is just that: plain. The more taboo the sex, the better.
I did not really have a set process, or at least nothing I immediately recognized. I guess years of realizing what my kinks are, and looking for compatible people helped. I do remember quite clearly when I decided that I was an outsider. It was about three years back. I had a good personal friend, who was an amazing slut. I really loved her as a friend, and also as an occasional sexual partner. She was younger than me by maybe three or four years, but had much more experience in the realm of “unusual sex,” partly because she was bisexual. As time went on, we became better friends and of course, occasional lovers. It was occasional because she happened to live in an adjacent state, so we would visit each other several times a year. But it was one time in October that turned me. She invited me to this event called “Fetish Ball.” College friends of hers frequent it, and invited her. Knowing my general interest in kink, she invited me. It was a single night event in a two story industrial complex that has musicians, dancers, kink demonstrations, and the best part: an uncensored after party. That night I learned how to use tools of the trade, learned about pain- both giving and taking- and the difference between good and bad pain. And I got to spank another man’s wife. In the long run I think they wanted to swing with my friend and I. What a pity I didn’t catch on to that! But what we did was secure both his wife and my friend together in stocks, bent over. He motioned to me to spank his wife, and the look in his eyes was the sincerest look of “we are all here for a good time.” Then I did it, and that was the beginning.
That sounds super hot! And I love that your first experience of this was in an informed setting. Exposure to the kink community can really aid in owning that part of yourself. So in what ways do you find this identification helpful? Unhelpful?
I actually prefer being identified as unhindered,” primarily because being unhindered is the reason I am a sexual outsider. Unhindered by social norms and expectations, that is.
That makes perfect sense. It’s about living outside the box. And that can be so hard, especially when socialization is a primary vehicle for learning about our options, yet it is far from all-inclusive. What advice might you give your young self in regards to sexuality?
I would tell myself to take the chance and chase the women I wish I did all those years ago. I had one minor (some think major) kink in high school, that I still greatly enjoy to this day, but back then it scared me to death. I have a foot fetish. High school was the first time I saw a large variety of girls wearing open-toed footwear, and the feelings it gave me were odd and confusing. I thought that girls would think I’m too weird and avoid me; that I would be judged harshly and cast out of my normal circle of friends. In hindsight that was ignorant thinking on my part. Girls dig weird guys, plus it would have set me apart from all the other hormone-enraged boys. It would have showed that I enjoy more parts of woman over the normal M.O. of tits and ass. My thoughts currently, which I wish I had then, are if you can take care of a woman’s feet, you can take care of the woman.
Well there’s my new catch phrase! So then what resources do you recommend to others wanting to explore their outside-the-box sexuality?
Actually, Facebook is a wonderful source to find kinky things. There are many burlesque shows, fetish-related events, and other sex-related events that advertise there. However, being that it’s Facebook, it can be somewhat easy for others to see what you are up to, which could be good or bad. But in general, the internet is your best friend to discover or practice kinky things. But it’s important to know what you’re in for. I was lucky to have friends who already knew how to safely go about things, so I had steps to follow in. I say start with a definite known kink, follow it and see where it leads. For me, going to Fetish Ball did that. It opened the flood gates of sexuality, pleasure and all around fun.
At what forms of kink are you proficient?
Short: Bondage, sadism (but it varies from person to person), dominance, foot play, group sex, role play, erotic massages, knife play (but no blood or actual cutting), body painting, pornography, swinging.
My favorite form of kink is something I think I came up with, because I haven’t seen it anywhere else, (but I could be wrong since I do not keep up with popular culture). It’s something I call being a Gentleman Deviant. You can attest to this, since you met me at a vintage event. I love to dress up in a suit, tie, tuxedo- all vintage only- comb my hair, shine my shoes, be as well-groomed as a man can be…and then play the devil. I will wine and dine, be sophisticated, charming, funny, a perfect gentleman, but deep inside a fire burns. I may not always act on it, but I do my best to put the feeling into any woman that I am with that I am the devil. Women can’t see it, but they can sense it. Actually, a lot of the kink I like to do is done with me all done up. It’s sophisticated torture, and it’s simply delicious. I know I’m successful when a woman, whether or not I’ve known her sexually, refers to me by the end of the night as The Devil.
Wow! You take the term “decophile” [a word that lovers of Art Deco like to use for themselves] to a whole new level! I’ve seen you out several times, and never knew the depths to which your sauciness goes. How devious! So do you know what needs your kink meets for you? Is the word “Devil” a religious reference for you?
Honestly, I am still figuring it out. For me sex is never black and white; pleasure is never black and white. I understand why I do certain things from purely a physical standpoint, but the emotional satisfaction of others is still somewhat of a mystery. I do it because I love it, and it makes me feel whole, but why? Who knows? It’s a great mystery that I intend to study for years to come.
And not being a religious person myself, it is not a religious reference. I love the mysticism behind the idea of a devil, and I try to embrace it. The Devil has both bad and good points behind him, it just depends from whose point of view he is seen.
Do you have any cool tips on your type of kink?
Just be cool and confident with it, and of course start small. Rome wasn’t built in a day, so don’t try to build the Coliseum on the first try. YouTube actually has helped me quite a bit on several of my kinks. I care more about her pleasure than my own, so researching and learning helps me do my job better.
Do you have any fun names for things you do?
I like to call it the Devil’s Work.
I love that! It really reclaims the “naughty” aspect of kink. Are there things you haven’t tried yet that you might like to get into?
I’m honestly not sure, I am some what closed minded towards being a submissive, but who knows, maybe one day. I think, with more exploration, fetish clubs and events, I can find something.
That’s fairly common, especially when you prefer to focus on the other person’s pleasure. Do you have a sense of what might be blocking you there?
It’s hard to say really. I’ve spent the majority of my life not in control of my own life, so that the thought of surrendering myself to someone is just alien. It could also be a trust issue, I guess. I’ve never opened myself up to trust my life in someone else’s hands.
I know that a lot of people can relate to that. It is incredibly vulnerable to be sure. From where do you draw strength and support for doing what you do?
My significant other, though not as open as I, is the one who truly set me free. Through her I have indulged almost all of my sickest of fantasies, and created a thousand more. She is my sexual muse. Maybe one day I can tell that story.
Well of course I’d love to hear more from you! And a sexual muse? What a poetic experience of sexuality. Your willingness to open up about your sexuality is so appreciated. And I do believe that fingers are now officially crossed to see you dressed up as the devil himself for Halloween.
Leandra Vane is a sexuality blogger and erotica author. She was born with a physical disability and works professionally with people who have developmental disabilities. With a background as a librarian and a bachelor’s in literature, her real love is reviewing and recommending books about sexuality and body identity. She’s a sucker for knowledge, emotional intelligence, and self-actualization. In other words, she’s a total badass.
Why do you consider yourself a sexual outsider, and what was your process for deciding to identify that way?
I was born with Lipomyelomeningocele and though most of the effects are invisible – I can’t feel about half my body, I have kidney/bladder problems, nerve pain – there are a couple visible signifiers in that I walk with leg braces (that I usually keep covered) and have an uneven gait due to a shallow left hip. Even so, by the time I reached college I was completely independent. I lived on my own, commuted to college (and college parties) and usually had two jobs at a time. I am now married, have a full time job, run our household unassisted, etc. Despite my independence and comparatively mild visibility, both men and women asexualize me because of my disability. I have had men tell me that though they would like to date me (or have sex with me) they wouldn’t want anyone to know they were interested in “the disabled girl.” I actually dated one man in private for several months because of this. In college, most of my friends referred to me as “one of the guys” or “just like a sister.” One time a waiter hit on me instead one of the girls in my group and, well, she got pissed off. It came back around to me that she couldn’t believe a guy would pick a disabled girl over a normal one.
The scales were finally tipped when at 19 I went to the doctor to get birth control. I was not sexually active but I planned to be and wanted to be on the pill along with using condoms (which had to be polyurethane as I am allergic to latex). The doctor checked me out and during my examination she told me that because of my body my cervix was low and sex would probably be painful for me. She then told me that sex would probably be painful for the man having sex with me, too. I somehow managed to keep it together but when I got home I ripped up the prescription and cried for a very long time. I went through a period of a few months where I literally felt like I was outside of my body. I felt like my entire identity had been taken away from me. In my mind, a doctor had just told me I couldn’t have sex. I was a virgin at the time, so I didn’t know whether she was actually correct, but I didn’t see any reason to get a second opinion. I was very upset. So few, if any, people acknowledged my femininity, let alone my sexuality, and on top of that I had some monster vagina that would cause my partners and myself pain. It was then I decided I must be asexual.
This was ridiculous, and a part of me knew it. Ever since the hormones kicked in around age 12 I have always been a very sexual person. I found out around this age that I had orgasms just from thinking sexy thoughts and as an adult I very much so enjoy my ability to “think myself off.” I love flirting, I love being sexual, and I always related to people who considered themselves sexual outsiders, people who identified as GLBT and other gender benders like cross dressers. I’ve always read mountains of erotica and navigated my own body to give it maximum pleasure despite the numbness and parts that had limited function. This included kink and fetishes though at the time I was an independent practitioner, using fantasy alone. Yet I went for about a year deciding that I must be asexual. Eventually my sex drive won and I realized that typical sexuality was not going to work out for me. I needed to embrace my kinky side, and I needed to find a partner that was willing to go against the crowd. I met my husband a couple years later and my vagina did not rip off his penis. I ended up going to a specialist and he verified that, yes, my cervix does sit low but this shouldn’t have any real bearing over sexual intercourse, I just might not enjoy certain positions that facilitate deep penetration. No monster vagina for me. However, I do admit that sensation play and spanking are much more erotic for me and I need these things in order to reach orgasm. Rarely do I orgasm from penetration alone (which, um, is not exactly a rare problem from what I’ve researched).
But my identification as a sexual outsider has more to do with sociology than biology. I love being feminine but I feel few people outside the kink community are able to see past my disability to see my femininity. In kink circles and with people who identify as being sexual minorities there is more freedom to be sexual in a way my body needs to be and there is not as much shame. Since then I have explored my sexuality in ways I would not have otherwise. My husband and I have successfully negotiated an open relationship and I have recently begun to appreciate feminine sexuality and have had female play partners. Since my body and my marriage both fall outside the realm of the typical heterosexual monogamous template, I do consider myself a sexual minority.
That is such an incredible journey. I can’t believe that doctor! I’m thrilled that you were able to reclaim your sexual self and find your subculture. In what ways do you find this identification helpful? Unhelpful?
It is helpful in that I have a better relationship with my body and I can finally be who I am instead of what everyone else wants me to be or says I should be. I find it unhelpful in that sometimes labels can go against you. For example, I feel more comfortable in GLBT circles but since I am married to a man and act traditionally feminine, I am not always “welcome.” Sometimes I feel people are in a competition to see who can be the most “hardcore” in kink and people hide behind these labels just as people in the mainstream hide behind the façade of polite society. I have found a few people in kink who are genuine and that is fantastic. But judgment, shame, and competition exist just as strongly in the kink world as in the mainstream.
What advice would you give your young self in regards to sexuality?
Don’t listen to other people! I made myself miserable for so long trying to be what others wanted me to. My family always wanted me to be the nice naïve, inspirational girl I was in elementary school and I know I have disappointed some of them coming out as a sex blogger (though admittedly most of my family still doesn’t know). I also fell into a spiral of self-loathing that I couldn’t be feminine the “right” way. I didn’t want to be androgynous, I didn’t want to be one of the guys. I wanted to be feminine. I had to finally learn that I’m not hurting anyone by wearing a skirt and if other people don’t approve it really isn’t my problem. Also, I am really happy that I confronted my insecurities with things like porn and jealousy at a relatively early age and my husband and I share such an open relationship. I know an overwhelmingly high number of couples who have had their marriages ruined by porn or emotional/physical infidelity at 30, 40, 50. So I do give myself some credit for exploring my sexuality in a healthy way in my 20’s. And I’m only 26, so I have a ton of time left to enjoy that security.
That is no small feat! So what resources do you recommend to others wanting to explore their outside-the-box sexuality?
Sexuality blogs and podcasts are great (Sex Out Loud with Tristan Toarmino and Psychology in Seattle are two of my favorites) but nothing beats a good book to carry with you and give you a safe space to explore. My two favorite publishers are Cleis Press and Greenery Press.
Your book reviews are pretty stellar. And I’m very envious of your library! You seem to know a great deal about kink. At what forms of kink would you say you are proficient?
I love spanking so I am fairly proficient at turning most household implements into disciplinary objects, however they are all used on me. I have experimented with needles, electric wands and rope, though I am always the bottom and the tops are more knowledgeable and efficient at applying these things than I am. I tend to be more interested in relationship dynamics and sociology than participating in scenes as a top.
I think the most misunderstood part of this world is the underlying motivations for one’s sexual desires. Do you know what needs your kink meets for you?
Physical pleasure. I am not drawn to power exchange and though I understand the desire in others I truly do not “get it.” I don’t have a need to submit or dominate. Because I can’t feel half my body, I have erotic zones in really weird places (the crook of my elbow, for example, can give me an orgasm if bit and sucked when I am aroused). Spanking also just feels really, really good. So I really enjoy exploring sensation play so I can have orgasms or feel sexual pleasure. My body is also in pain quite a lot so placing a manageable amount of pain on another body part will alleviate nerve pain. Perhaps it has something to do with interrupting the communication of my nervous system input/output. Whatever it is, I like it.
That is really cool! It sounds like an article on pain as an interruption for pain may be necessary for our readers! Do you have any cool tips on your type of kink?
Not tips, but since I can “think myself off” I do encourage people to use fantasy and masturbate to learn more about what they really desire. I wish masturbation and fantasy were not seen a “less than” partnered sex because I have learned a lot about myself this way.
Besides “thinking yourself off,” which is totally awesome, do you have any fun names for things you do?
I can’t really think of any names, but as a quirk I do think that Jalapeño Cheetos are THE BEST sub-space munchies. At events my friends get me a bag so I can be blissful and ride the high for a little longer. I get buzzy after a long scene of sensation play. Even though I’m not submitting in the actual sense, I call it subspace anyway.
That’s delightful, and I definitely want a bag now. Are there things you haven’t tried yet that you might like to get into?
I am interested in more hardcore bondage but with my lack of sensation I need to find someone I really trust. I am also interested in experimenting with age play as it is something I never thought I would do but age players make it look so fun I want to try at a kink event.
There can be so many conflicting or just plain negative messages about sexual outsiderdom. From where do you draw strength and support for doing what you do?
I have few friends in real life that are kinky and I can be my genuine self around. I am slowly “coming out” to friends and family because I don’t want my erotica writing kinky sex blogging life to be a secret forever. But since I live in a very conservative small town I worry about my employment security and random harassment that comes with the territory. So I must admit I get most of my empowerment from books. Books on sexuality, kink, porn, disability, open relationships, fat studies, body identity, beliefs, psychology, sociology, emotions, GLBT studies, etc. They are my sanctuary when I feel alone among people I live and work with. People I have never met who are willing to have the conversations no one else in my life had been willing to have with me. As for support, my husband is number one. We talk and experience things together (including sex with others) and we never stop growing. He supports me and we can be real around each other. Sounds cheesetastic but I never thought I would be connected to another human the way I am with him. We charge each other’s batteries.
Is there anything about which you’d really like to spread awareness?
I spoke a lot about my body in the above but my real passion in sex blogging and education is teaching good relationship skills and self-awareness. Jealousy, lack of empathy, adhering to social mores, and poor communication lead to really miserable relationships. People label porn, nonmonogamy, and kinks as immoral and blame them for deterioration of relationships. I believe that being manipulative, neglectful, and lying to your partner are much worse. Yet because many aspects of sexuality are deemed evil or unhealthy, people will continue to lie about them, to themselves and their partners. Not everyone in the world needs to be a polyamorous bisexual Dom but we do need to nurture authenticity in relationships. That means knowing what you need sexually and practicing emotional awareness so you can be confident being safe and nurturing to your partner/s in relationships. Jealousy, porn, temptation, etc is not an almighty force that controls you and your body. You control how you treat others. I wish more people would take responsibility for their lives instead of blaming sex and society. Sorry, I’ll get off my soapbox now
Your personal story and the work that you do is very moving. I think I can safely say that we all hope you’ll stay on that soapbox!
Leandra is currently working on a sexuality memoir entitled “Trophy Wife: Sexuality. Disability. Femininity, scheduled for release in 2015. Follow @Leandra_Vane on Twitter, and check out her fantastic blog, The Unlaced Librarian.
Let’s clear up some major misconceptions about psychotherapy, because it kinda kicks ass and everyone should understand why.
I’d like to start with something very basic. A few years back, I was in a conversation with a fellow patron at a local diner. When the gentleman asked what I do for a living and I said, “I’m a psychotherapist,” he gasped, furrowed his brow, and said, “Therapy for… psychos?” Now, this is the most extreme of the misunderstandings that I have ever encountered, but it points to a belief that comes up a bit too often. “Psycho” is a pretty commonly used word, and it doesn’t mean anything good. But “psyche” means soul. In fact, even that is a derivation. And it’s root is the Greek word for life. Life! Psychotherapy is the healing of the soul.
Therapy is not something you seek out because you are weak. Therapy engages you more deeply in both everyday occurrences, as well as more acute incidents. By “deeply” I mean that it assists you in understanding your underlying beliefs and needs, which affect most everything you do. When we know ourselves intimately, we are better able to get what we need in order to thrive. It’s for everyone. That said, sometimes we really need it. And that’s ok, too. A big part of therapy is learning when to lean, and when to use internal resources that you already have, as well as the ones gathered from your work with your therapist.
The work done in therapy cannot be done alone. Oodles of it depends on your involvement in the process, of course. But almost every last thing that hurts us is the result of an injury in a relationship with another person. Because of this, it takes another person to provide the external portions of what is needed to heal those wounds. We are hurt in relationships and we heal in relationships. This is a primary reason that beginning therapy can be scary. It means being vulnerable enough to open up to someone. But unlike many other places, therapy is a safe place to do so. We therapists are trained to find out what it takes for you to be exactly who you are. This is what makes the therapeutic relationship different from friends, family, or co-workers. This brings me to the next vital point.
It matters that you like your therapist. While you must expect there to be occasions of discomfort or disagreement, you should have a general sense of your therapist being your kind of person. This doesn’t have to mean that they are your same gender, race, age, etc. In fact, much healing can happen when you have diversity in the room. However, you must have some basic comfort and connection in order to get anything done. You could hate your G.P., and still benefit from the medicine she prescribes you. But the “medicine” of therapy is relational. You must be willing to take it in to benefit from it. If you’re seeing someone for the first time, give yourself two or three sessions to make a decision about the fit.
Therapy is not a place to go to feel crappy about yourself. You will not be shamed or judged for who you are, what you believe, or what you do. You will be assisted in identifying what works for you and what doesn’t. One of my favorite articulations about therapy is the metaphor of the thorn. We must find the thorn, and then we must pull it out. In that process, there is some pain and difficulty, but then it’s out! And then you will then be able to practice new or better ways of being in the world. Remember, the goal of therapy is for you to realize and actualize who you have in you to become.
That scenario you imagine so often when you fantasize? Consider the impact it could have on your sex life to be able to successfully communicate what you like about it to your partner.
It is with staggering infrequency that we share our fantasies with our partners. And for good reason: it’s scary! We risk being misunderstood, embarrassed, or causing offense. The first step in avoiding those things is having some depth understanding about ourselves, so that we can communicate the specifics.
Understanding the primary emotional motivation for a fantasy is essential for your partner to be open to it. Let’s look at a common fantasy that has remained pretty taboo: bondage. Suppose “Kelly” likes to imagine what it would be like to be tied up and then pleasured by her captor. Just that one sentence is pretty vague and into your mind may sweep all kinds of scary things: pain, abuse, disrespect, etc. So we need to get more specific. We need to know what Kelly likes about this scenario. Her partner may be overwhelmed with questions or assumptions about what this means to Kelly, and if we end the communication here, this will likely result in the aforementioned icky emotions. What she really needs to say is that she likes to imagine being completely vulnerable to her partner and having experiential proof that she’ll be well cared for- even pleasured- in that space. Relinquishing (or conversely, having) control in a safe space is one of the most common elements of bondage.
From here, Kelly can get even more specific and begin to speak to some of her partner’s concerns. In regards to pain, she may want there to be lots, some, or none. Often people desire to feel the pressure of the binding, but no pain. It’s important that she understands and communicates what she’s interested in, and why.
Understanding the particulars of your own desires is no easy task. I recommend beginning by exploring as much as you can on your own.
As much as possible, do some exploring with your partner. It’s ok to not fully understand what you like and why. Having sex together can be a huge part of your explorative process. For this to go best, set some boundaries before you begin. For example, maybe Kelly isn’t sure if she wants pain or not. Let’s say she’s tried pinching herself a bit and has liked it, but feels nervous about having her partner inflict any pain. She can say exactly that: “I’d like to try having you pinch or bite me a little, but I might not like it, so I may ask you to stop. Is that ok with you?” If this kind of conversation seems impossible, seek the help of a therapist.
All of this can be tough work, but it’s also lots of fun along the way. It is so very worth it, because you deserve to have what you want. And a healthy sex life helps to sustain a healthy and vibrant you.
Here is a mind-blower: blue for boys and pink for girls is a brand new concept, relatively speaking. In my musings about contrived gender concepts, it occurred to me recently that the pink/blue notion has an origin. Someone made that up!
It turns out that the origins are not terribly clear, but there is a lot of amazing information about at least some of the influences. First off, think back to photos you may have seen of babies in the early 20th century. They are usually wearing the standard white gown. Some of those babies are boys. Those gowns were fairly standard through most of the 1940′s, which means that even people as young as the Baby Boomers were not stamped with blue or pink upon birth.
To boot, it seems that the notion used to be that pink was for boys and blue was for girls. The thought was that pink is a shade of red, which is typically thought of as a strong and fiery color suitable (or perhaps desired more than suitable) for males. Blue is typically thought of as a softer color suitable (desired) for females. Saint Mary is most often depicted in light blue, which undoubtedly had influence.
The earliest known examples of pink-clad girls and blue-clad boys are found in the 1940′s, seemingly as a result of marketing strategies by companies to push individualized merchandise. This seems probable to me, as indeed if one has a female child followed by a male, everything would need to be repurchased. Though the question remains: why pink and blue?
There are a number of experiments (sourced below) that have been run to determine whether or not an innate preference exists, but I am dissatisfied with most of the results. One experiment suggests that humans in general may prefer shades of red. Another suggest that there are physical differences in the eyes that may be the result of our hunter/gatherer days. The fact remains that blue/pink as a rule was only very recently created and I think it is worth considering the ways in which it can be damaging. At best, it is just unnecessary.
For further reading, I recommend the work of Jo Paoletti from the University of Maryland.
Alexander, Gerianne M. and Hines, Melissa. “Sex Differences in Response to Children’s Toys in Nonhuman Primates (Cercopithecus aethiops sabaeus).” Evolution and Human Behavior 23 (2002), pp. 467–479
Eysenck, H. J. (1941). A critical and exprimental study of color preferences. American Journal of Psychology
Guilford, J. P. & Smith, P. C. (1959). A system of color-preferences.
Hulbert and Ling (2007). Biological components of sex differences in colour preference.
Maglaty, Jeanne. (2011) When did girls start wearing pink? Retrived from http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/When-Did-Girls-Start-Wearing-Pink.html?c=y&page=2
McInnis, J. H. & Shearer, J. K. (1964). Relationship between color choices and selected preferences for the individual.
Paoletti, Jo B., “The Gendering of Infants’ and Toddlers’ Clothes in America,” The Material Culture of Gender – The Gender of Material Culture, Katharine Martinez and Kenneth L. Ames, eds. (1997)
Paoletti, Jo B. “Clothing and Gender in America: Children’s Fashions, 1890-1920.” Signs, v. 13, no. 1, Women and the Political Process in the United States (Autumn, 1987), pp. 136-143
“The Baby Show.” New York Times, June 6, 1855, p. 1