Sex, Romance, and Disability
Once I was asking my friend Ariel if I was being foolish by including my psychiatric diagnosis in some online personals. She said the best thing, “It’s an asshole filter!” It’s true. As much as I feel my romantic possibilities have been severely limited by having a diagnosed psychiatric disability, I also feel like I don’t want to be involved with someone who thinks I’m an idiot or will chase them down the hall with a knife. I could go on and on about the lack of compassion many people feel towards all of us with disabilities or chronic health problems, but it won’t change the fact that they are assholes missing out on hotties. And it won’t change the fact that at some point in their lives, without exception, they will be in the exact same situation as me.
It was pretty hard to be in my mid twenties dealing with psychiatric issues on my own and being treated weirdly, and definitely not being viewed as a sexual person at all. I think most mid twenties folks run away from someone they think is going to be too “high maintenence.” I think older people do too. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have a girlfriend when I went nuts, just because it would have crushed me to get dumped when I got released from the hospital.
So I haven’t had a really nice girlfriend since I went crazy, I haven’t had any at all in fact. But I also haven’t been involved with anyone abusive, which happened to me before. In fact, yucky girls have pretty much left me alone. So maybe the asshole filter does work.
The issue of being crazy and being into BDSM is also fraught with it’s own conundrums. The motto “Safe, Sane, and Consensual” takes on a whole new meaning. Can someone who is certifiably insane still engage in the sexual practice they’re used to? I say yes. Being bipolar involves long stretches of sanity, in fact, I’m sane far more often than I am insane. I’m sure some players would disagree with my continued desire to engage in BDSM activities, but those are probably the same people who if they were vanilla would be scared of me chasing them around with a knife. In fact, having a psychiatric disability has lead me to be extremely sensitive and cautious with my emotional limits and my levels of trust. I probably have more insight into my own emotional safety in certain scenes, particularily humiliation/degradation scenes. I also have a really clear picture of my possible triggers, and have already come up with ways to get around and past it. For instance, I know I’m going to have a really really hard time with bondage. On the other hand I know if I have a long detailed conversation about what I need to get through my first post hospital bondage scenes, I’ll probably be able to have fun with it again.
Yeah, I guess having a disability of any kind means some (or a lot) of people don’t want to date us, but on the other hand the people who do are more likely to be people who are able to have serious long term relationships. And that’s really the only kind of person I want to be involved with.
Although “Funbags” and “Maidenhead” pisses me off . . .
Cunt is probably my favorite word for female anatomy. It’s such a contentious word, and yet to me it just sounds sexy. Unless you call me that while throwing a beer on me or something, in which case I’ll call you a cunt back and add a few more words. I have no qualms about cunt. I could say cunt all day.
Cunt cunt cunt.
Some people try to make cunt into a cutesy word that ends up sounding terrible, like “coochie” or “cooter” or “Cho Cha” or any other ridiculous derivative that usually ends up getting used in the letters page of Club. There’s nothing worse than trying to have a pornography assisted orgasm and reading a dumb word like Coochie.
I think what I like the most about Cunt is that it’s not trying to be cute or sweet or non threatening. A cunt knows what it wants, it’s aggressive and demanding and shameless. Everyone I’ve been seriously involved with has been able to use the word cunt in the sexy hot way it should always be used.
Next to “Funbags” . . .
“Maidenhead” is the other female anatomy terminology I loathe, it is totally like, Shakespearian virgin porn. I can’t believe something as ridiculous as a hymen is so valued in our society. IT’S JUST A PIECE OF SKIN! And tons of girls lose it on their lonesome, it’s not always going to be there just because someone hasn’t had sex yet. How come there isn’t an equivalent male virgin term either? Like “Unenclosed man pole” or “soon to be sullied boy junk.”
Plus, I don’t understand the fetish for virgins. I guess it’s some kind of prowess thing, or maybe just a secretly handy way of mitigating performance anxiety by knowing you won’t be compared to anyone. You’ll always be the best lover someone ever had if you’re the ONLY lover someone ever had.
Anal Sex, Nukes, and Montreal Pick up lines
I had a weird night last night where I couldn’t really sleep, one of those thinking too much nights. Then I had some fuckin’ WEIRD dreams!
First I dreamt I was hanging out with some gay men and suddenly I was having anal sex and I was all “Holy shit! I’m having anal for the first time!” And then I was “Holy shit, this is amazing!” And then it was all “Oh fuck, is he wearing a condom? He had better be wearing a condom. I don’t think he is. Woah that was nice. Oh shit, what do I do? Should I risk it this one time? He hasn’t come yet, if he pulls out will it be okay? I don’t want this to stop, oh what a quandry!” I’m hazy as to the particulars of my gender in my dream. I think I was a boy, but I don’t know if I was a bio boy or a trans boy.
Then I was in Montreal and I was a visiting artist, and all these beautiful femme women kept doing these sly pick up lines with me. But I swear to fucking god, it was the exact same line all the time, and they were saying them in front of each other, it was like they were all scheduling in a sex session with me before I left town. I think I even ordered a drink with some francophone name that was especially for slutty visiting anglos.
A side note, how come Montreal is the epicentre of beautiful femmes? Paris is the same. And it’s not that all the femmes are Montreal natives, it’s like there’s some femme magnet pulling them there. Kind of like Vancouver is the butch epicentre of Canada. I heard it had something to do with French feminism, but I don’t really believe Luce Irigaray is what convinced gorgeous women to converge on Montreal and Paris.
And then suddenly I was in snowy mountains all dressed in guard gear with some other guy and we saw a plane go over head and started talking about the goddamn Americans and what they were doing to the world when I glanced up and saw a mushroom cloud. I sat up and yelled “They’re bombing us!” and my friend said “What the hell are you doing, get down!” and he jumped on top of me and held me to the ground while nuke charges started heading down the hill towards us. Boom boom boom boom and just when I was wondering how much it would hurt I felt this intense heat and then the sensation of being dematerialized. It felt so real that I woke up right away and tried to figure out if I was dead.
The anal sex part felt real too but I didn’t wake up to see if there was really a dick up my butt.