The waiting is the hardest part

So, on my second day of public health graduate school, I have a five hour break between classes and absolutely no homework to do yet. Solution?

Dazzle you with my biting wit and sharp intellect.

In case you don't know me, I am 24, awesome, in graduate school, blindingly beautiful, going on my third move to New Orleans, made of sexy, ready to humble you with my modesty.

Despite the title of this blog, I am finding that with blogs the hardest part is actually coming up with a title. I like having a starting point, and usually that is the title. I enjoy delicately weaving in references that give an elegant throw-back to the first morsels of brilliance you were lucky enough to encounter. However, the fact is, sometimes that title just doesn't come, and what is a girl to do? Leave my loyal reader in the dust? No, diligent fan, I will not cease to disrupt your World of Warcraft game with some hilarious but enlightening satire! I will float on, despite a clear starting point, and hope desperately that I arrive on something winning and not altogether disappointing.

However, can I really compete with titles like this?

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/sexist/2009/08/24/semen-facials-are-like-weddings/

I mean, oddly enough, that was the original title of the Tom Petty song I referenced in my title. Because...if you've ever had a semen facial, well...you get the idea.

I think this lady makes a fascinating point: sexual degradation and mutual love and respect are not mutually exclusive, but we rely on the convenience of degrading acts because of the sexual fulfillment they derive without considering their implications. These implications are not confined to the simple disgust most of us have for the domination of women through humiliation, but the mere, and from what I can gather, undeniable fact that most of what we do sexually as women is designed to please the man we are sleeping with (sorry, lesbians, I'll get to you another time) and not ourselves. Discussing this with a friend, I came to the conclusion that perhaps because women's sexuality is more nuanced (or we believe it to be based on the lack of un-sexist psychological research until fairly recently) men lose interest in truly satisfying a woman at a young age because they don't know how to, and women get used to this routine of men not knowing what they are doing, normalizing it in their minds. Somehow, without the possibility of sexual fulfillment, they still feel pressure to get men off, knowing full well that masturbation will be the only friend giving them a helping hand in the orgasm department. I have never had an ideological problem with facials, but I cannot deny the pressure I feel during sex to satisfy my partner sexually without considering my needs, and that a lot of the satisfaction I get out of sex is knowing that I am pleasing someone else, so much so, that it becomes its own type of orgasm, an ego orgasm. But, at the end of the day, the ego is not what needs to orgasm. Men, however, seem to have no problem being pleasured for pleasure's sake. It is something they have become accustomed to, as most of sexual imagery is male dominated, and seeking their own pleasure becomes as normalized as women attempting to give it. As a good friend says, men get used to throwing out "weak attempts and still getting their rocks off."

Of course, these generalizations are very broad. But I think the blog succeeds in explicating the bedroom/rest of life dichotomy; that humans are indeed capable of being against and sometimes repulsed by something in theory, in conversation, in observation; but in practice, it becomes clear that disgust is often a close relative of arousal. However, getting a man hard is not a substitute for enjoying a sexual experience, through and through. Sure, let some dude jizz on your face, call yourself liberated; I am not here to judge. But let's all ask ourselves why we do the things we do, and whether or not we are getting what we want out of it. By ignoring the conversation of what women want and just shouting our liberation to the skies because we like jizz on our face and can say it, we lose sight of the entire purpose of sexual liberation: getting off.





I guess waiting (for an orgasm) really is the hardest part.