Fault In Your Stars

Has someone’s zodiac sign ever kept you from sleeping with them? Well, maybe it should have.

While it is your Mars alignment which speaks to your sexual nature, we’re more concerned with predicting someone’s prowess quickly, so we’ll just talk sun signs (the alignment that dictates general personality AKA the sign based solely on your birthday). After having consulted the powers that be (the internet and self proclaimed astrology experts), KAAST has come up with a break down on how the different sun signs love and fuck.

AQUARIUS

In bed this air sign displays the same free spirit they exhibit in life. Famously creative, they carry this trait into the bedroom, so I hope you’re up for an unconventional time. Their energy between the sheets is best paired with a Gemini or Scorpio.

In love Aquarians are notoriously uncommunicative, often coming off as detached. Not fans of telling you how they feel, being in love with an Aquarius requires some extra work. But don’t let their cool exterior discourage you, they ultimately make warm and intelligent lovers.

PISCES

In bed a Pisces is a consummate romantic and occasional role-player. In fact, an atmosphere of fantasy and passion persist throughout all of Pisces season, and sex with them is often a tender experience. A sexual giver, a Pisces usually tends to their partner’s needs before their own.

In love this water sign is looking for a true soulmate, someone they can connect with emotionally and spiritually. Pisces are very intuitive and can often sense what you’re keeping from them. Their selfless nature can make you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

ARIES

In bed as in life, Aries are impatient, often wearing their lust of their sleeves. Sometimes this impatience means little foreplay, but don’t worry, once an Aries puts it down, they’re more than capable lovers. Passionate and aggressive, sex with an Aries is always high energy and almost always fun!

In love these fire signs are extremely difficult. Having dated a few, I’ve found the very same traits that make them exciting fuckers also make them problematic lovers. Prideful, stubborn, often combative, there’s very little room for error with an Aries. They expect a superhuman level of loyalty, but if you’re willing to put in the legwork, they’ll return the favor. Aries can make fierce life partners (just don’t, for heaven’s sake, contradict them)!

TAURUS

In bed this earth sign has a really stellar sexual word of mouth. Ruled by Venus, the planet of love and beauty, a Taurus is very attune to their senses. They’re usually a great lay. Their slow-moving nature translates to lasting and indulgent fucks. Essentially, you should be sleeping with a Taurus.

In love they’re drawn to beauty and stability. But they’re also possessive; a Taurus friend once equated being left by a man to being robbed. Earth signs crave security, which sometimes verges on materialistic. So if you’re broke, maybe you should lose that Taurus’s number.

GEMINI

In bed a Gemini is playful, curious, and often a fan of dirty talk. They don’t take making love too seriously, which usually means you’re in for a fun and relaxed romp. They like to keep things fresh and bring refreshing versatility to the bedroom.

In love it’s often difficult to keep their attention. A multifaceted sign that excels at social adaptation, you need to be as dynamic as they are to keep a Gemini interested.

CANCER

In bed — if you’re lucky enough to get them there as they aren’t the most promiscuous sign — Cancers are affectionate and caring partners. Be gentle, as these water signs are highly sensitive. Trust that once you’ve entered them, a Cancer fully expects you to hold them throughout the night afterwards.

In love a Cancer will take care of you, but they’re easily the most emotional sign in the zodiac — so tread lightly! However, don’t mistake their tears for weakness; they are quite strong. To keep a Cancer, you must make them feel valued and safe. Cancers make fundamentally kind partners.

LEO

In bed Leos expect you to worship them. Vocalizing your satisfaction is vital, one negative comment can turn a Leo off completely. But don’t worry, if they feel sufficiently valued, they’ll be sure you feel the same. Leos are as fun in bed as they are in life — just be sure not to moan louder than them — they need to be the star of this porno.

In love Leos need to be constantly reminded of your devotion. They operate best when showered with praise. Yet despite their need for attention, they make very loyal partners. The archetypal social butterfly, this fire sign enjoys being the focal point in group settings. This is true in their love life, too; Leos sometimes select less outwardly impressive partners so they shine brighter. But don’t be annoyed by their centrism, Leos are a riot! Invest in them, and your investment will be returned.

VIRGO

In bed this earth sign will expect you to have your technique down-pat, because they do! Not a fan of sexual surprises, it’s best to play by the books with a Virgo. A sign that lives in their head, it’s vital to put in the tongue work during foreplay to make them feel comfortable and ready for the deed.

In love Virgos will put in the effort! They’re extremely hard workers (Beyoncé is a Virgo), but verge on being perfectionists. Occasionally this correctional compulsion will extend to you, and Virgos can sometimes make critical partners. But never doubt this comes from a place of care, as Virgos are very picky and don’t enter relationships lightly. Love with a Virgo can be lasting, as they always want to make it work.

LIBRA

In bed Libras are sexual chameleons. They’re mutable signs, so flexibility is their thing. A fan of setting the mood, wearing expensive lingerie and lighting some candles wouldn’t hurt.

In love you better watch these air signs, they’re easily the most charming sign of the zodiac. They crave romantic attention (and hate being alone), but in a much subtler way than Leos. Terribly indecisive, they’re used to holding many lovers at once. To be with a Libra you need a strong sense of self because they flirt with everyone.

SCORPIO

In bed this sign is in their element. Notoriously the most sexual sign of the zodiac, their skill and intensity is well reported. Scorpios are very consuming, and while they definitely love a casual fuck (or any fuck, really), sex with them will feel anything but. Just be sure to not mistake their intensity for intimacy.

In love it’s best to avoid Scorps if you’re looking for something chill. They have a penchant for jealousy and obsession, and opt for whirlwind love affairs that usually end in destruction. But the highs are undoubtedly high, and a Scorpio is never boring. They respond to honesty and take betrayal very seriously. A fan of revenge, don’t cross a Scorpio unless you’re ready to see them fuck your best friend and livestream it.

SAGITTARIUS

In bed a Sag makes a passionate and impulsive lover. On the tamer end of the fire spectrum, their burn lives within. They’ll try almost anything once and don’t mind rough sex. But once you finish, expect a Sagittarius to wax philosophically. Try reading a steamy love poem prior to penetration to get them wet.

In love it’s hard to pin a Sagittarius down, as they are the adventurer of the zodiac. But if you’re lucky enough to do so, hold onto them, because they’re easily the most well-rounded sign. Love with a Sag is often sunny, as they are eternal optimists. They are also romantics, so sprinkle in a few sweeping gestures to seal the deal.

CAPRICORN

In bed a Capricorn will always make you feel safe, but they can sometimes be a little boring. While they have a kinky side, their passivity requires you to draw it out of them. Thankfully, Capricorns are hard workers with a lot of stamina, so if you give it time, you’ll eventually find a fulfilling sexual rhythm.

In love you better impress a Capricorn. Bring your resume on the first date. They are deeply ambitious, and value the same in a partner. Often successful, they’re hyper-conscious of their social image and how they’re being perceived — be sure not to embarrass them. Big planners, Capricorns are always thinking ahead. Ultimately a Cap just wants a partner to build with.

So when you date and play, remember to look to the sky — it’s full of clues.

Cum First

I spent my adolescent years believing my sexuality was something to be given and taken. Having sex for the first time meant giving away my virginity. Participating in sex meant satisfying my male partner’s pleasure. I saw my body as innately sexual and tainted, made only to appease the masculine gaze. Quickly, I internalized this belief that I was only a pawn for men’s sexual desires; hyper-sexualized, yet stripped of my own sexuality. My understanding of sexuality was limited to a rigid binary: masculine sexuality was uncontrollable, desirable and powerful, while feminine sexuality was non-existent.

I began having sex when I was 16 years old. I had been taught that being pure and untouched made be a better woman, so my virginity was sacred to me. I justified losing my virginity by claiming that I was in love with my high school boyfriend. I believed I was going to marry him (stupid). In the early stages of my sex life, I didn’t understand the hype around sex. It felt uncomfortable, sometimes even painful. I constantly wished for my partner to cum so we could stop. I felt too ashamed to try new things and explore my sexuality. I accepted anticlimactic sex because I believed it didn’t matter what I thought or felt— sex was for men and I was just a tool designed to help them achieve climax.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when my beliefs began to change. As I grew older, I slowly started to open up to my sexuality. Maybe this change was the result of puberty, maybe it was education, or maybe it was just experience. It took time, but I slowly unlearned the slut-shaming and male-dominating ideologies surrounding sex that I had been carrying with me for so long. I started to recognize my sexuality as a vital part of my identity. It is not something determined by social norms and barriers; it is something free-flowing and natural. It is something controlled by me and only me. It is something I deserve to claim freely and openly.

As I grew into my sex life, I became curious about the mysteries of female orgasms. Most of the time, my pleasure was secondary in sex. My orgasms were not an expectation, but only a bonus. I could tell that everyone, not just my sexual partners, was intimidated by vaginas— my health teachers were uncomfortable teaching about the female reproductive system, my female friends knew just as little about their own bodies as I did, and my male partners were convinced female orgasms were more difficult to reach. Everyone blamed anatomy.

I’ll be the first to tell you that anatomy is not at fault. The female body is just as capable of orgasms as the male body. Because we are taught that masculinity is inherently sexual, we start to believe those who don’t identify as this gender are less deserving of pleasure. When sex is viewed as a masculine trait, it becomes one-sided.

I fear that all too often women settle for unpleasant and unsatisfying sex because of the weight of social expectation. Women can be sexually active and simultaneously detached from their sexuality— too afraid to explore, too ashamed to feel. I’m a firm believer that we can learn so much about ourselves through sex. Sex has led me to meet strangers, new friends, and intimate partners. I have watched my friends grow in immense ways when they embrace their sexuality. There is so much to learn from knowing your body and connecting with another person through physical intimacy. And life becomes so much less confusing when you understand yourself, want you want, and what you deserve.

As women, not only do we need to unlearn the shame of sex, but we also need to internalize the belief that we are equally deserving sexual beings. Sex is natural, and it should be fun and pleasurable for all parties. Always make sure your partner sees you as their equal, and always make sure that you cum first. You deserve it.

Ava Answers: Survival Of The Fittest (Bush)

Ava Answers is new a column exploring the science of sex by Ava Mainieri, a PhD student studying women’s health at Harvard University.

For those of us with vaginas, ripping, tearing and shaving our hair with pink Daisy razors has had a long history— the ancient Greeks found body hair so distasteful that artists molded their figures of women sans pubes. Trendsetter Queen Elizabeth I removed all the hair from her eyebrows to make her forehead appear larger, while Michelangelo and Manet both painted hairless vulvas. There was even a study in the 1890s that linked excessive body hair to female insanity. But according to evolutionary biologists, that curly mound that thrives beneath your underwear is probably there because it was once considered irresistibly sexy.

The main purpose of body hair on animals is to retain body heat. But around 3.3 million years ago, humans started running long distances across the savanna plains. Without central air conditioning or handy bottles of water, hair on our bodies just made us overheat. Therefore we biologically morphed from being covered in a head-to-toe carpet to a mosaic of hairy and less hairy parts.

You can’t exactly use your pubic hair to floss your teeth, but it is noticeably thicker than the hair on your legs. Estrogen, the main female sex hormone, morphs the hair follicles in that region into a large oval shape that causes the hair to grow thick and curly. This creates a nice barrier protecting your vagina from bacteria and dust floating around in the air. It also regulates moisture around your vulva which decreases the chances of yeast infection. But more importantly, biologist Robin Weiss believes that the thicker and coarser it grew millions of years ago, the more attractive you appeared because of all the foreign particles inadvertently trapped in your bush. Pubic hair acted as an attractant to grooming, a routine illustrating affection that usually leads to sex in primates.

Our great ape relatives created social bonds through long grooming sessions, picking bugs and dirt out of each other’s fur. Humans, too, habitually groom themselves and each other. Removing parasites is undeniably hygienic, but the associated rubbing in the genital area would have been pleasurable for both parties (personally, I can’t think of better foreplay). Grooming also releases endorphins, those awesome hormones that make us happy and lower our heart rates. It is not a stretch to assume that some fondling would have led to sex— obviously advantageous for the continuation of our species.

As such, pubic hair would have functioned as a sort of blinking sign indicating sexual maturity on our naked and frolicking cavewomen ancestors. Weiss postulates that when humans started walking around on two legs, the vulva became hidden from obvious view and pubic hair remained as the main indicator of completed puberty. The basics of pubic hair in both men and women suggest that it evolved as a sexy characteristic: it grows under the influence of reproductive hormones, becomes noticeable when you’re biologically able to have a baby, and acts as a visual ‘come-hither’ sign.

From the position of smell, our pubic area is full of apocrine glands, the organs that release the stank that makes us smelly seductive beasts. When your pubic hair lifts the sweat from your skin in order to keep your genital area dry and refreshed, it gathers bacteria. That musky smell comes from normal bacteria living on your skin mixing with the sweat. As long as you are someone who showers a few times a week, there is nothing dirty about body hair. Some scientists like Randy Thornhill even speculate that pheromones— the odorless molecules you release when you’re horny— get trapped in the short and curlies. Pheromones may act as a subconscious signal to potential mates that you’re ready to get it on.

Not only does having pubic hair increase your raw biological appeal, prevent germs from entering your vagina, and act as a cushion protecting thin genital skin during sex or exercise, but it could also save you a lot of money. A 2008 study concluded that an American woman who shaves will spend more than $10,000 over the course of her life removing unwanted body hair. Maybe we could take that beach vacation instead of fashioning our pubes to look like Barbie’s bits?

Before you schedule your next Brazilian bikini wax, remember that evolution wants you to be whoever you are, whether you shave, pluck, or let your carpet grow.

How To Have An Orgasm (in Five Stories)

One subject I am very familiar with is orgasm.

After all, I’m a doctor of human sexuality. However, my understanding of orgasm comes more from personal experience than anything I’ve studied. The orgasm, like many things in life, is experiential. It must be explored, felt, witnessed, and experienced in order to develop regular access to this most incredible of experiences. The orgasm is also something individual, and in the same way that no two people have the same fingerprint— no two people have the same network of nerves and fantasy that escalate their arousal to orgasm.

Everyone wants to experience orgasms, and yet many have never experienced one, or the ones they do experience are small, short, or lacking pleasure. I could lecture on orgasms from many perspectives, but since storytelling is one of the best teachers, let me share five sex stories that can lead you in the direction of, what is for many, the elusive orgasm. For those who haven’t experienced an orgasm, who find it difficult to achieve one, or who are interested in having greater variety and intensity, I think you will find some clues hidden here.

Story 1: Pure Sensation

When I was a girl, I often played sex games with two of my female friends. Our senses were heightened as we role-played all we knew about men, women, and sex. We didn’t know it at the time, but this was arousal. One time, I was straddling my friend who was lying on her back and grinding my genitals against hers “playing sex” when suddenly this uncontrollable wave of pleasure went cascading through my body. It scared her and she asked me to stop. That was my first orgasm. As an adult, I’ve found that pure sensation in the form of clitoral stimulation can regularly bring me to orgasm. Pure sensation can also come from a partner in the form of breast sucking, oral sex, and really good fingering, or by using a vibrator. If I’m relaxed and my headspace is ready to “play” with sex, I will find my way to orgasm with pure sensation.

Story 2: Pure Fantasy

Every so often I am having sex with a partner and my first orgasm refuses to make an appearance. I’m grinding and enjoying and relaxed, but I can feel that there is a long divide between where I am and where I want to be. That’s when I dial up my fantasy. What is the most taboo thing I can imagine happening at that moment? Some of my personal fantasies are imagining that it’s my “job” to make my lover come, that I’m a sex worker or concubine, that I’m younger than I am, that my lover is going to come inside of me and make a baby, or that we’re being watched by others. Focusing on really erotic thoughts or taboo aspects of my relationship, along with focusing on physical sensation like how our genitals feel together or the sensation of my chest against theirs will almost always bring me to orgasm, and quickly!

Story 3: Pure Mind

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had orgasms in my dreams. In my dreams, I can be doing any number of sexual things with a man or a woman. Then when I start to orgasm, I wake up and either let the orgasm finish its wave on its own, or I reach for my vulva to rub and hold it to continue the orgasm for as long as possible. I’m not alone in this experience. Science has shown that we can bring ourselves to orgasms through thought alone. We also know that orgasms often happen during sleep as blood circulates and engorges the genitals in both men and women around three to four times per night. Basically, men aren’t the only ones waking up with an erection! One time I remember I was staying at my aunt’s house and sharing a bed with my mother when I woke up having an orgasm in my sleep. Luckily, I don’t think she heard me.

Story 4: Pure Intensity

The first time I experienced vaginal orgasm was after my normal clitoral orgasm on top of my boyfriend. I had come really quickly, so I got on my hands and knees afterward to feel him from behind me. He was standing and thrusting in and out of me when I started having these waves of orgasm. They were softer than my clitoral orgasms, but seemed to have no beginning and no end and they were clearly centered in my vagina. The more I breathed, relaxed, and vocalized, the more intense they became. My body and mind entered a trance-like state, and I didn’t want the sensation to end. In fact, I wanted it deeper and harder, and the longer it went on the better I felt. Now it made sense why someone would want to have penetrative sex for hours and hours! There was all this pleasure potential inside of me just waiting to be woken up.

Story 5: Pure Naughtiness

Sometimes no matter what I do, I cannot reach orgasm. Usually, it’s from fatigue or some mental distraction, or maybe my partner has ejaculated instantly and I am left to find an orgasm on my own. This is when pure naughtiness comes in. Focusing on anything forbidden is a rapid way of intensifying arousal that never fails to bring me to the pleasure I’m looking for. For me, having my partner looking at my genitals while I masturbate, spanking me, touching my anus or penetrating it, telling me what a bad girl I am or how slutty I’m being, or sharing a fantasy of something we’re doing together will take me to the doorstep of an orgasm every time. This is the one benefit of all the sexual taboos in our culture— we can use them to have even more fun!

Orgasms are unique and individual to everyone and always changing throughout our lives. I hope these stories throw some fuel on the fire of your orgasm and help you discover all the pleasure your body is designed for. Because you are designed for pleasure! It only keeps getting better the more time and love you give it. Shame, trauma, and lack of education can slow down the process, but your sexuality is always inside of you wanting to express itself. So make time and explore. The world is awaiting your orgasmic, sexy self. Your orgasm is beautiful.

Want to learn more about orgasm and female sexuality? Check out Lauren’s courses, books, and upcoming sexuality summit at www.LaurenBrim.com. Or read even more sex stories in my first book, “The New Rules of Sex” available on Amazon.

Catholic Sexual Suppression

From as young as I can remember, I was taken to Catholic Mass every Sunday morning by my mom and dad. I was sent to private Catholic school from kindergarten until university, and everyone in my immediate and extended family is Catholic. Throughout my childhood, we prayed as a family before meals, and in school I studied the Bible as doctrine. Despite all of this, I was a skeptic, even when I was young. I remember being six years old and asking my teacher why gold ornamented our church when, according to her, millions of people were living in poverty. I pondered aloud to my classmates and within earshot of my teachers why women weren’t allowed to be priests. And it was this question in particular— after my teacher told me I was breaking a moral tenet in even asking it— that prompted me to question all that I was told never to doubt.

My parents never spoke to me about sex. We never watched movies as a family that mentioned it, and they never acknowledged it. As a result, I grew up thinking that sex was wrong, that speaking about sex was wrong, that embedded in just that syllable there was something wrong. Though I was outspoken in some ways, this didn’t seem like a topic that I was even allowed to think about, let alone talk about in school or to my parents. And so I was shamed into dealing with the confusion myself. My resulting ignorance led to years of frustration, confusion, sadness, anger, and resentment, and this experience is not unique to me.

I remember so many nights when I was young; my friends and I would sit on each other’s beds asking the same questions over and over, guessing, hypothesizing, wondering without satiation, without answers, ever. We would keep our voices hushed, always, checking outside the closed door and down the hall to make sure that no parents were lingering— but never asking what it would mean if they were.

“When are we going to learn about puberty? When are we going to learn about how babies are made?” I remember asking those questions, verbatim, to older girls who had finished Catholic grade school and moved on to high school. They all told us the same thing: that they weren’t comfortable talking about it, but that there was a section in sixth grade science and religion classes that would answer our questions.

Finally, sixth grade came, along with its much anticipated section: Family Life—not “Sex Ed,” unless you wanted to be chastised by a teacher after class. A few days before this new unit was set to begin, my peers and I were sent home with slips to be signed by our parents, soliciting consent for the school so that we could learn about sex. I gave the paper to my mom silently. She asked, “Do you have any questions?” to which I said that I didn’t, because how could a 12-year old girl who had never learned what sex was have any questions beyond “What?” “Why?” or “How could you?”

I expected that after this class I would have a firm understanding of what sex was. By this time, I still didn’t know how I had even come to exist. I was told over and over that my parents prayed to God and after that my mom miraculously had my baby brother in her womb. At one point, when I was ten, my friend tried to explain sex to me. I didn’t believe her, figured she was trying to deceive or corrupt me, but I was too nervous to ask anyone else or to ever bring it up. I wasn’t even aware enough of my own biology to know whether or not what she described could be possible.

Needless to say, I was very excited for the class section. But once the program began, I was continuously dissatisfied. In gender-seperated units, we talked about hormones, about the endocrine system, about puberty and the very, very basic parts of human anatomy. We kept waiting until eventually one student just brought it up: “What is sex?” she asked. But my teacher refused to answer. Not only would she not tell us, but she revealed that she didn’t think that this unit should exist in schools at all. In the religion component of the program, our teacher told us to dress modestly and to avoid boys.

The curricula that came later, in 7th and 8th grade and then throughout my high school years, were equally horrifying. I learned that contraception, abortion, premarital sex, and gay sex were wrong; somehow, though, natural family planning is okay, which means that “pulling out,” or strategically having sex and hoping (maybe praying) that you don’t get pregnant, is okay. But using a condom isn’t. I came away with the understanding that sex is wrong, that I shouldn’t think about it or engage in it. I left the program convinced that I would never enjoy sex and that— more importantly— I shouldn’t.

To feel suppressed, stifled, and shamed into not being able to openly talk about sex is both dangerous and deeply damaging. For years of my life, I literally did not know how I had come into this world. I was forcibly exposed to sexualized bodies of women in the media but never offered an explanation for why this was happening or how I was supposed to feel about it. I couldn’t understand my own biology; I couldn’t understand evolution. Sex for me was a highly charged word and concept. I really believed that it was wrong to even think about it. As a result, I developed severely negative perceptions of anyone who I’d come to find out had engaged in it, and held the burden of resentment in my heart for years. I felt betrayed by all the adults that I was supposed to trust, by anyone with children, even.

What has maybe been the hardest part, though, has been understanding my own sexuality. Parts of my body, so intimate, were foreign to me. I was unfamiliar with my own composition, and unfamiliar with any kinds of emotions or feelings attached to it. All of these situations, and the problems and frustrations that accompany them, are avoidable. Sex is not inherently charged with negativity, despite how it has been treated historically.

If you are in this situation too, or something like it, know that you are capable of and responsible for creating, developing, and deciding your own views on sexuality. You are not responsible for upholding anyone else’s perspective. This means that you are allowed to talk about it and to ask about it. It is not your responsibility to censor yourself for the sake of other people’s comfort, especially when it means cutting yourself off from vital information that you deserve. Not your parents, not your school, not your peers, not a millennia-old tradition like the Catholic Church has authority over your curiosity.

Eventually, thanks to conversations with friends and reading that I did on my own, I became familiar with and developed my own opinions on sex. Throughout my first few months at university, I realized that I do not deserve to live with residual fear or discomfort. I don’t deserve to feel like I can’t ask questions, and I certainly don’t deserve to feel like my curiosity is anything other than healthy and right. Neither do you.

Is Grindr A Subculture?

*The featured photos are selections from gaytona.beach, a project highlighting photographer Andrew Harper’s experience on Grindr in Daytona Beach from the age of 19.

In 1979, the British sociologist Dick Hebdige published an extra-thick wad of social science on similarities between subcultures in a book called Subculture: The Meaning of Style. Don’t worry, I read it for you.

If you want to know whether the crowd of people you’re looking at belongs to a subculture, look out for these things: inventive language, distinctive dress, a common favorite music genre, an exclusive media channel, and, most importantly, a bold philosophy that explains their opposition to mainstream culture. In most cases, the subcultures Dick Hebdige studied had at least one other thing in common: heterosexuality.

Mainstream culture has always been a very serious threat to gay men. Masculinity is the norm, heterosexuality is the law. Disobeying either can threaten your livelihood, if not your body. Years ago, you’d get beaten and/or killed. Today, the abuse is more often psychological than physical. And so, for gay men, repressing our identities has always been an act of self-preservation such that the only place gay men can find acceptance, free from the threat of the mainstream, is in an all-gay space.

At least for younger generations, those all-gay spaces are increasingly virtual – they’re supplements to the physical spaces gay subculture has long inhabited (i.e. clubs, bars, bathhouses, community centers).

Enter Grindr, “the world’s largest gay social network app.” Yes, it’s a media channel for gay subculture, but now it’s also a subculture of its own.

This makes perfect sense when you realize that not every gay man uses Grindr and not every Grindr user is a gay man. The ability to self-select into Grindr is part of what makes it a subculture. Those who choose to use it get to know their sexuality in a space that’s intentionally separate and safe from mainstream culture. Curiosity has a place there. Sexual-expressive freedom is Grindr subculture’s philosophy. And those who use the app quickly realize that its users have a language of their own.

On the platform some key terms were carried over from gay subculture – terms like “top,” “bottom,” and “versatile” that describe a gay man’s sexual preferences (the “top” likes to penetrate, the “bottom” likes to receive, and the “versatile” man likes both). But Grindr users often abbreviate them to single letters which are faster and easier to type: T, B, or V.

Among Grindr’s host of custom (sometimes NSFW) emoticons that have their own sub-textual meanings, there are bunk beds – one depicts a man on the top bunk (for the tops) and one depicts a man on the bottom bunk (for the bottoms).

Of course, that library contains a purple eggplant (an emoji that now cross-culturally represents a penis), but there’s also one that’s brown, one that’s white, one shown through a magnifying glass for the less-well-endowed, and one displayed in a polaroid (sent as a substitute for requesting nudes). There’s a peach and there’s a peach with a phone over it for a booty call. There’s a set of handcuffs, a man with a bear paw for the “bears” (those are hairy, bulky, older men), a man in leather chaps wearing aviators, and the lower half of a man wearing a jockstrap.

Grindr users message each other “looking?” or “DTF?” – shorthands that ask whether the person on the other end of the chat is looking for sex right now. Some users even change their profile name to a “looking eyes” (👀) emoji to reach a wider audience.

“Grindr tribes” offer an even deeper dive into a user’s identity and sexual preferences. Bear, Clean-Cut, Daddy, Discreet, Geek, Jock, Leather, Otter, Poz, Rugged, Trans, and Twink describe the physical and psychological categories a gay man identifies with and/or is looking for in a partner. After all, Grindr exists for sexual exploration.

So, Grindr is a subculture that is also its own exclusive media channel. As a subculture, it also has a philosophy and an original language.

To be sure, Grindr’s place and purpose are complicated by its neighbors – Scruff, Growlr, Hornet, etc. I suspect that technological shortcomings are not why the gay community loves to hate Grindr. I think it’s more about our relationship with shame and our relationships with one another. On some level, we love to hate ourselves. What we see in one another reminds us that mainstream culture taught us to hate homosexuality. If you need proof of that, consider the fact that there’s not a homo among us who hasn’t been asked, “Why are gay people obsessed with sex?” or wondered it themselves in a critical tone.

For gay men, the act and topic of sex is not just a rejection of the idea that we ought to hate our sexuality, it’s a rebellion against the idea that we ought to hate ourselves for it. And that’s why there’s hardly a Grindr user I’ve met who hasn’t deleted the app (often seeking out another) and returned to it because gay sex has never been so freely discussed between so many of us as it is there.

Orgasm Equality

“Nope, I never have.”

He was asking me, again, as if I hadn’t already told him I don’t orgasm, as if it was just so appalling that I couldn’t possibly have been telling the truth the first time. In a twisted way, it was amusing that he was so insulted by what people with a vulva experience. I was a 21 year-old and had never had a orgasm. For most people who are socialized as a female, this isn’t surprising.

But of course I hadn’t. Even after living in a school district that covered (slightly) more than abstinence in sex-ed, even after voraciously reading every sex listicle or Yahoo answers thread, even after watching people fuck on TV and Chrome Incognito, I had barely heard anyone talk about what makes a vulva feel good.

Every mainstream magazine targeting women boasts the same derivative kind of article like “29 Ways to Drive Him Wild.” Movies constantly show women having a orgasm from penetration, when in reality, a majority of people with vulvas don’t. I literally once read an article about how to cut a grapefruit for the use of stimulating a penis, yet I’ve never read about how to stimulate a vulva. God forbid we want to pleasure ourselves, or our partners with vulvas.

The closest magazines get is usually along the lines of “Here’s how to accidentally get off during vaginal intercourse…” implying that intercourse is the only sexual act that matters. Laurie Mintz describes in Becoming Cliterate that language exemplifies the ways society centers sex around the male experience. Most people understand the word “sex” to mean vaginal intercourse between vulva and penis. This reliably leads people with penises to orgasm, and simultaneously negates the experience of non-hetero sex, manual, and/or oral sex— which are generally a more reliable route to orgasm for people who have a vulva.

Same goes for the overuse of the word and focus on “vagina.” The reason why Mintz encourages, rather, the use of “vulva” is that it’s more anatomically correct, plus it includes all of the different machinery that, depending on the person, may be more crucial to their sexual satisfaction than the vagina. The fact that the anatomy of female genitalia is not common knowledge, and that society frequently use the wrong word reinforces the idea that these bodies and their subsequent needs are not important.

What further proves this lack of consideration is the normalization of female pain during intercourse.

“A casual survey of forums where people discuss ‘bad sex’ suggests that men tend to use the term to describe a passive partner or a boring experience… But when most women talk about ‘bad sex,’ they tend to mean coercion, or emotional discomfort or, even more commonly, physical pain,” asserts Lili Loofbourow in her incredible article “The Price of Male Pleasure: Female Pain.” Heterosexual women are taught to expect little from sex or else face disappointment. We’re taught that our bodies are for satisfying men, not ourselves. That our partner’s pleasure is more important than our pain. That’s bullshit, and I’m angry about it.

Unfortunately, it is normal for a person socialized as female not to orgasm or enjoy sex. If you’re someone in that situation, know this: you are normal. You are not alone. If it doesn’t always feel that way, I understand. It definitely didn’t to me. Most of the time I felt like I would never enjoy sex, and any attempts to change that felt hopeless. I felt like a freak, worried maybe there was something medically wrong with me. I tried so hard to do everything I could to please my partners that when my lack of orgasm hurt their ego, I felt like I had let them down. I wished I could orgasm to make them feel good.

So that’s how I got to be 21, an expert on all things dick-approved but completely at a loss for what to do with my own vulva. I finally decided I deserved pleasure as much as my partners did, and that I would pursue mine as eagerly as I had theirs. As unfair as it is, I wasn’t going to stumble across sex-positive media centered around the female body and experience, so I had to seek it out.

I started masturbating. I bought a couple of vibrators. On OMGYes.com I found videos of people with vulvas explaining and demonstrating exactly what motions and rhythms worked for them. I read Come as You Are and Becoming Cliterate, which are both books specifically geared towards helping people with vulvas revolt against the toxic sexual norm and craft the fulfilling, reciprocal sex lives that we deserve.

Reading about other people who had struggled like me and had gone on to learn to enjoy sex gave me hope. It also made me feel normal for the first time. I could recognize how society had lead me to this position, which gave me the knowledge to walk away from all of the ideas that didn’t serve me, and walk right into my bedroom and give myself my own goddamn orgasm.

Deciding my pleasure was important and worthy of time and effort were the biggest factors leading to my orgasm, and in fact, it many ways more important than the orgasm itself.

In reality some people with vulvas don’t orgasm, and that’s okay, too. They can lead just as exciting and satisfying sex lives as everyone else. However, what good sex does include is knowing you and your partner’s body, which is why the lack of education on vulva satisfaction is so upsetting. When I initially admitted to a partner I had never orgasmed, I thought a lot about how his shock reaction revealed how little he understood the female body. Although, through the months and the books and the vibrators since, I was surprised to find out how little I understood about my own body, as well. Both parties needed to change.

If you’re having sex with someone, your pleasure should be as important as theirs. Oral sex should be reciprocal. Everyone should be taught where the clitoris is. Female masturbation should be as widely accepted by society as male masturbation. Public and private sex education should cover pleasuring people with vulvas! Additionally, emphasis should not be placed on vaginal intercourse as the sole valid form of sex.

More than anything, we need to talk about sex: as a community, as a society, with our parents, with our children. Reassure your friends that they are normal. Ask your partner to tell (or show!) you what makes them feel good. As Loofbourow says, “sex is always a step behind social progress in other areas because of its intimacy.” So, let’s talk about intimate justice and orgasm equality. Let’s give the next generation the education they need to have mutually satisfying encounters, instead of struggling and scrambling for years like many of us have. Let’s tell them what we wish our partners had known. And what we wish we’d known.

A (W)hole New World

To depict with accuracy what purchasing my first vibrator was like, I recommend that readers obtain some type of music device and listen to ‘A Whole New World’ as performed by Lea Salonga and Brad Kane, for its contents are integral to today’s topic.

I had been toying with the idea of buying a vibrator for months, years even. Having one time come so close to ordering a dildo online in the shape of Sailor Moon’s Cutie Moon Rod, I opted instead for a pair of white platform shoes. Eighteen year-old me had not yet felt the full wrath of a libido thrust upon her. The closest feeling was the thrill of arriving at university and not having to wear a kilt and blazer to school every day.

Fast-forward to three weeks ago. I entered the store with enthusiasm, a titillating sense of badassery accompanying me along with a wallet full of cash and an unraveling composure. Simply being inside the store was arousing on its own. The store’s squeaky-clean glass windows juxtaposed the seediness of other sex shops I had visited. I stared in awe at the sunlight streaming through like a heavenly beam onto a table of assorted cock rings. I expected a middle-aged man with a wiry beard and beer belly to look at me with disdain. I would then valiantly retort, “That’s right! I’m a young Asian woman in a sex shop! Screw your normative gender expectations!”

Instead, I was greeted with the firm smile of a frizzy-haired woman behind the register, a purple leash fitted loosely around her hand—the same purple as the shop’s sign. The other end was clipped to the collar of a chocolate brown dog who pattered towards me panting, tongue outstretched as I got my bearings, nodding and smiling sheepishly. I began to scan the merchandise, quickly deducing that the front of the store was beginner’s play. I marched with great gusto to the back, where a black velvet-lined wall showcased a series of phallic objects with circular bulges. I studied them quietly. It didn’t take me long to realize I was looking at the butt stuff.

I snapped back around, finally settling on a gentler, pink wall with an array of less intimidating toys delicately sprawled across a glass table. An older customer stood reading the back of a box while rocking a stroller back and forth. An infant in a yellow beanie slept peacefully inside.

I wasn’t there for very long. I chose a member from the pink wall that didn’t seem too overwhelming and took my purchase to the counter. With a dull face, the shopkeeper scanned and packaged it. I had prepared myself for judgmental looks and being handed a pamphlet with the words YOU’RE GOING TO HELL lambasted on the front, there was nothing of the sort. Instead, she handed me my bag and picked up her phone, turning to take snaps of her dog.

I recommend that readers now press play on their listening device. I rushed home, and once in my room, ripped the box to shreds. My hands fumbled as I opened my new toy in my own private space. There was something so completely foreign about this moment, yet the toy and the moment were mine. All mine.

A whole new world.

Yes, I am the Jasmine in this situation. And my Aladdin? My new, hot pink friend Emilia, with 12 different vibration settings.

Top Privilege

There has been a long time understanding between “The Gays” (the male gay community, that is) that we are divided into 3 main categories: Top, Bottom, and Vers (there’s also Vers Top or Vers Bottom, but we won’t get into those specifics here).

Throughout history it’s believed that we have coexisted, for the most part, in peace and harmony. However, when you take a closer look into these intricate gay sex lives we lead, you’ll start to see underlying issues that separate us and how sexual positions can affect our lives in very real and impactful ways. Everything from fleeting to poop shaming to HIV contraction rate, we start to see that we Tops have a kind of privilege that our Vers and Bottom sisters do not have.

STI Risk

The risk of contracting HIV and other STIs is significantly lower for Tops, and especially if they are uncircumcised. According to the CDC the insertive partner’s (Top) risk of contraction (uncircumcised) for anal sex is 1 in 906. Meanwhile the receptive partner’s (Bottom) risk for anal sex without ejaculation is 1 in 154 and with ejaculation is 1 in 70. That’s a staggering difference in contraction rate.

An additional Top privilege is the preventive steps available to them post cloital. Tops with penises can do small things like washing potential exposure areas after sex with soap and water, killing any leftover bacteria that may contribute to Syphilis, as well as peeing to reduce risk of contracting Chlamydia or Gonorrhea. It’s not as simple for Bottoms to flush said bacteria if they’re located internally. Not only that, but Tops have the distinct luxury of being able to identify symptoms of certain STIs more quickly than Bottoms, allowing them to seek out treatment right away, while it might take a Bottom a formal diagnosis to know something’s wrong.

Trust

When a Bottom isn’t on PrEP (a HIV preventive drug), a certain amount of responsibility and trust is placed in the Top to not do things like remove the condom mid-sex or notice a potential break in the prophylactic. “Stealthing” is when your partner removes their condom during intercourse without telling you, opting for their personal pleasure over your safety. Unfortunately, this a common practice within the gay community and many times a Bottom may not realize until after the fact.

Social privileges

Next I want to talk about the social benefits a Top is afforded, which might not be as medically provable, but we absolutely do see evidence of it in our community.

While two Tops or two Bottoms can hook up with one another in several non-penetrative ways — and that’s completely valid — the most common perception of sex is believed to be penetrative, and between a Top and a Bottom (you might flip positions midway, but you get what I mean). But unfortunately, there are still many people who see Bottoms’ promiscuity as something more shameful, dirty, or “slutty” than that of Tops. There seems to be different reasons people “Bottom shame” and, truthfully, all of them are dumb as hell.

I’ve come across people who celebrate and cheer on my success on Grindr, and have even noticed that it makes me more desirable. Meanwhile, my Bottom peers with a similar sexual resume get looked down upon for the same practices. There is a false sentiment that bottoms who engage in high levels of sexual activity or with many partners, have “loose holes” which is simply untrue. If you are having anal sex and taking your time, using lube, and making sure everything is done at a proper pace, the asshole will remain tight. It’s only when the anus gets damaged that it loses its elasticity, which is mostly caused by tops who have no idea what they’re doing. One of the most despicable ways I’ve seen this attitude expressed is Tops using Bottoms’ STI contraction rates against them. Another is the old school way of looking at things we’ve unfortunately adopted from #TheStraights, is that the “catcher” is the weaker, more feminine one in the pairing. This thought process comes from internalized homophobia and sexist attitudes towards penetration. Some seem to feel like, “Sure, I’m gay but at least I’m a top.” This belief stems from residual shame after coming out, and the notion that traditionally masculine expressions of sexuality are somehow more valid. Luckily as I’ve gotten older and delved into more sexually liberated groups of gay people, I encounter less and less of this. But every now and then I’m reminded that there are plenty of people of all ages who still feel this way.

Paint shaming

Lastly, I’d like to speak on a topic that I believe isn’t given enough attention within our community, and that’s paint shaming. For those of you who don’t know what painting is, it’s a slang term to describe when a Bottom isn’t all the way cleaned out and a little something is left on the Top’s penis! Now, I personally think Bottoms are made to upheld completely ridiculous standards, not only dietary wise but also supplementary! I’ve seen threads upon threads of tweets and Facebook statuses about what Bottoms can do to make sure they have pristine anuses for their Tops. Some people go to certain extremes as taking 6 fiber pills a day, using multiple Fleet enemas, and not eating for hours prior to a hookup. And while this humble Top is no nutritionist, I can’t imagine that’s healthy!

I understand that most Bottoms do this to feel less worried, more prepared, and cleaner, but as Tops we have to stop demanding such perfection from Bottoms. We must be more understanding if something goes wrong, and recognize how much labor and time Bottoms put into their bodies (specifically their buttholes). They may say they do it for themselves, but we Tops reap the fruits of their efforts either way, and we do not appreciate it enough. I have heard stories of Tops kicking Bottoms out after being painted, making a big deal about it, and causing further embarrassment to the Bottom and it’s just not right. Tops should know what they sign up for, and if we can’t handle a little collateral damage we shouldn’t be playing the game to begin with. Listen, shit happens, and if we don’t start accepting that, and stop demanding perfection then I smell a Bottom revolution in the near future. Watch them stop douching all together because we couldn’t appreciate what we had. We need to cherish our Bottoms for all that they put up with and do for us. Let’s recognize our Top privilege and try and do better by them, it’s about time we checked ourselves.

Parties

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