I (finally) had sex again.

Hi friends! :)

I know it has truly been a while since I have made a blog post like this one...

In fact, to put it plainly and get right into it, I had penetrative sex last week for the first time in 9 years and 10 months and while I want to say it should feel like a big deal, oddly enough, I (still) feel nothing [negative]. I found this very strange and was truly grateful that I had a therapy appointment already scheduled for the following week because I really wanted to discuss this feeling with my therapist, which we did for most of the session.

I won't go into full on details of the sex, but I will say, speaking for myself, overall it was a positive experience. Consent was ongoing, communication was there, and we both orgasmed. The reason I finally felt safe and secure enough to sleep with this person is because we had on previous occasions been intimate, slept in bed together, cuddled, but not done anything penetrative or oral sex. In all of those occasions, I felt safe and secure and actually wanted to have sex with them. 

To take things back a bit and sort of pick up where I left off in my blog post My Sexual History Part II, when I left the US to study Sexology for what turned out to be a year, I thought I would potentially meet someone in Australia and break the dry spell back then in 2018. I had my eyes set on a couple of individuals, but one was never available to me and the other I would have loved to have sex with, but I was too drunk and high to do anything but go to sleep that night, so it would not have been good nor consensual sex. Alas, I came back from Australia still celibate. 

For the whole of 2019, my life was a bit chaotic in trying to reestablish myself in the US, find a job, start paying off debts, etc. So I was, you could say, working and focusing on myself, and didn't allow time for anyone else. Then 2020 happened and my-oh-my how odd it is to be able to say that in September of 2020 I met someone, for the first time in a long time, that I felt I might have an intimate connection with. That did not turn out to be the case though. 

In December of 2020, when I really needed the money, I began online sex work. Creating my online content, working my day shift full time job, and then trying to find time for friends was a bit overwhelming to say the least. I have learned a lot during my time with online sex work and I'm thankful for the sex worker angels out there who were always there for me when I needed to bitch or had a question about something. Over time though, I began to get burned out with overworking myself and while I had a nice small following of really sweet supporters, for my mental health, I had to end my time with online sex work at the end of October 2021, and stick to go-go dancing and any burlesque show opportunities. What I will say about my time as an online sex worker, I had done a lot of research, contemplating, etc. before I chose to take the leap into that realm and once you go in, there's no looking back. I, mainly, learned a lot more about myself sexually since all of my online sex work was solo sex. I learned, thanks to a subscriber who purchased butt plugs off my wishlist, that I actually quite enjoy butt plugs, and find them to be a very fascinating feeling. I learned to charge what I felt my services were worth and not let anyone try to tell me I'm worth less than that. I also learned that some people, I will stress 'some', will treat you differently when they discover you are a sex worker in any capacity. I also feel there is a teachable moment/opportunity there for these people, if they are willing to listen and be respectful. That's not always the case, but I picked those moments wisely.

In May of 2021, I met another person I was attracted to and things went pretty hot and heavy quickly with this individual over text and voice messages, however I kept getting red flags with this individual when they would chastise me for flirting with them and then not wanting to hang out. The problem was they didn't want to hang out until it was my bed time or well past it. So, with all of that in mind, after one incident where they made a joke about me being too drunk and telling me how I should spend my time as a happy and free individual, I told them to go fuck themselves, and they blocked me on all socials. To say this was a blessing in disguise would be an understatement. They showed me their true colors and I was like good, glad this ended very shortly after it began. I know I said some foolish things to them in my brief sadness of this potential intimacy fracturing, but I also know I was being gaslit. I let them know we were really over by distancing myself from them and setting healthy boundaries. They blocked me a second time on their socials and I'll be honest and say I'm glad for it.

In July of 2021, I met the person who ended up being who I broke the dry spell with and had penetrative sex with. To respect this person's privacy, because I do care about them as an individual, I will not really go into details on how we met and how we came to finally having sex, other than I told them I had been having lucid sex dreams about us and wanted to actually do it. That aside, I will explain, for me, after my therapy appointment why I (still) really feel nothing...and why it's a little foreign to me to feel this way, but I'm starting to see that's okay.

• With previous partners, the end goal for sex for me was to try and create a relationship with them...which was always a failure. This time I went into it as more of just a physical want and was satiated.
• While my best friend said it was probably my SSRI numbing my feelings, that is definitely not the case, since I'm on such a low dosage of my SSRI, haha.
• I am not 21 anymore, like I was the last time I had sex. I am in a completely different decade, mindset, atmosphere, etc. I am no longer a college student, I am a 31 year-old young/mid-level professional with lots of experience and knowledge, who is in therapy.
• I feel like not all of my needs would be met that I would want from a full on relationship with this individual, and I think that is definitely a part of why I feel nothing.
• I feel like I was putting in a lot of effort and that was not being reciprocated, for many valid reasons, and because I have had past relationships (friends, work or otherwise) that have taught me to be careful where I give my energy, I am just like okay, I had sex, it happened.
• I feel a part of me has already resigned to the fact that for me, this will go no further, and that's okay. I'm not sad, mad, upset, just accepting of this fact and okay with it all...which is mature as fuck for me, since I'm normally over-fixating on my partners.
• Speaking of over-fixating, to anyone who may be thinking, "then why are you making this blog post?!". To answer the question, I am doing this, and as you can see in previous blog posts, to reflect on things. It's a bit cathartic for me.

While I know there are other factors at play right now in my life that may also be affecting how I think and feel about this situation, I needed to reflect on how I felt after ending such a long hiatus from penetrative sex with a partner. If you got to the end of this, know that I am speaking for myself, my thoughts, my feelings, and continuing to keep my life an open book. Until next time, chau suerte! :)

I am having a fucking crisis

Mercury is in Retrograde and I saw one astrological IG account I follow post something about the four 'Re-' to focus on during this time: 
Revise, review, renew, reconsider. (I like that.)

I'm in the last year of my twenties and I am having a fucking crisis. I quit my full-time job on June 11th, after my shift for that day ended. I'm go-go dancing at the gay club, but let's be real, I'm not making shit on those shifts except for maybe enough to cover my student loan payment for the month. That being said, I love dancing, so it's a job I sincerely enjoy going to on Thursday nights when I'm on the schedule. I'm taking modern dance and playing beach volleyball, which are both positives in my life at the moment. I'm supposed to be training for a half-marathon I signed up for that's on November 3rd, but I have no motivation to run further than a 5k on a regular basis and it's just so fucking hot right now, outdoor training is almost laughable and not happening. On top of that, on July 2nd I was in a pretty serious car accident where my mom's Honda C-RV I was driving was t-boned by a Prius trying to speed across 5 lanes of traffic and "didn't see me". When the C-RV came to a stop, I've never had so many strangers try to help me out of the car and come to the realization that the impact made it so no one could open the driver's door. 
Lots of things came into focus when I had this accident and it stressed me the fuck out.

• While I knew this accident was not my fault, my first fucking thought after seeing that my friend in the passenger seat was okay was that my parents were going to be pissed. They just refinanced the C-RV. They just put new tires on it. I just felt so much fucking guilt. I didn't even give a shit that I was alive, I gave a shit about the fucking condition of the C-RV.
• My next thought was holy shit! I don't have health insurance! This is the main reason why I didn't go to the hospital until the following evening because I knew I could not afford that medical bill, if I was forced to pay it, which I later learned I would not have to pay.
• Lastly, I thought about how pathetic my life has been up to that point. Pathetic in the sense that there are still so many things I want to do and experience...like the fact that I haven't had sex or been intimate at all with another partner in over 7.5 years and I still haven't been to Glasto!

With these thoughts, even now I kind of just want to cry. I value my life so much less than a C-RV that was in a motor vehicle accident.
Anyways, I did go to the hospital and was evaluated physically after the accident. No injuries to report, except for whiplash, which meant I was still able to go on my trip to Colorado that I had planned for months. I had a blast in Colorado, however I am back to reality now and just in this grey area of I need a job to live, but I want to do what makes me happy and I'm not even sure I'm qualified for anything.
There are a lot of things I would like to do, but they involve further schooling and money, surprise, sur-fucking-prise! 
The professional background I have of five years in fundraising and development is great and all, but it is not what I want to do for the rest of my life. It's part of the reason I moved to Australia to study Sexology. I wanted a different professional avenue. Once I got to Australia and started my program, I learned I would need even further schooling if I wanted to become a Sex Therapist, well shit.
I completed the Graduate Diploma program and moved back home. I was so desperate for work when I moved back to the States that I took a full-time job in a field I never worked in, which was veterinary medicine, as a Receptionist. It was income that I desperately needed, but things were not as they seemed. Four months later, I quit my job with a 3-page resignation letter, which doubled as my exit interview. It was the first time I have ever quit a job without the prospect of another job to start the next day, week or month. I just couldn't work there any longer for several reasons, which were outlined in my resignation letter.

Now to reign back in to the fact that I am having a fucking crisis. I have no clue what I want to do and I'm being picky af about my job options because at this point in my life I have a serious problem with jobs that drug test. I have never been drunk on the job, nor high on the job, but I have been drunk and high outside of business hours on my personal time. I am intelligent enough to know that marijuana alters my mental state, which is why I would never use it on the job, the same can be said for alcohol. I am also intelligent enough to know that marijuana is not federally legal, and that states legislate it differently, but it is a drug I used recreationally and legally while in Colorado...when in Rome.
Aside from that, I'm just also having a crisis on what I want to fucking do. I'm looking at admin jobs, entertainment jobs, TOEFL jobs, jobs in other states, jobs in other countries...and I just have no fucking clue what I want to do and where I want to do it. Honestly, I would love to get into the entertainment industry as someone's personal assistant or working for an agency in an admin position (to start), but then there are days where I'd rather just work in a database all day and get paid to not have to talk to anyone and just send out reports and letters. FML, haha!

With all of that being said, I have a tarot reading scheduled for Sunday and plan to just go in with a big ass question mark over my head and see what the cards and my tarot guide have to offer me in the face of this crisis.

My sexual history: The many reasons why I'm hesitant to be intimate: Part II

The title of this post was an alternate to my more accurate long-winded one:

My sexual history: Why I have commitment issues with partners and opening up to the idea of an intimate relationship with partners: Part II
This is the continuation from my Part I post. I'm picking up right where the first one left off as a 14 year old girl, who has already started exploring her sexuality and come up against some life lessons.

In Part II, I will hopefully continue to answer questions my friends have had as to why I am so picky, and why I sometimes tend to flirt with a man at the bar, and even though I do want to sleep with them, alarm bells start going off as the night comes to a close, and I take flight and end up home alone. Here is Part II to a very lengthy, but complete look into my sexual history. Buckle up folks! It is going to be a wild ride with many highs and lows.

Before I press onwards into my high school years and beyond, I need to rewind one second because I failed to mention one hilariously pivotal moment in my sexual history. The first time I gave a guy a hand job! I believe I was 13 years old at the time. It was summer and I was at Homestead Heights swimming pool, where I basically spent every summer of my childhood up until I was a freshman in college. This was a time to be a child growing up! I was able to ride my bike anywhere and not really worry about someone reporting my parents for child abandonment...and I was blissfully ignorant to the idea of being abducted because the neighborhood I grew up in was already fairly sketch to begin with, so I was used to being aware of my safety growing up. I digress because I don't know that many kids in the United States these days who can go out and ride their bike to a friend's house or to their local pool or play outside unsupervised, and that saddens me.
Back to the real story you came here to read though! I rode my bike to the pool as I did most days and saw one of my summer crushes. I'm not exactly sure how we even ended up like we did, but that summer, this development company was building houses where the tennis courts used to be next to the pool. The houses did not have locks yet on the doors, so me and this guy ended up in one of the houses. We sat on the floor and he spit into my hand and then told me how to jack him off. I enjoyed it. I had all of the power, yet he let me know whether to go faster or slower. This was an educational moment for me, learning by doing. Well, this was also the first time I had seen and felt ejaculation and it was strange and foreign to me. So like any ignorant 13 year old girl, I jumped away from it and watched some of it scatter onto the cement floor of this house. Some of it was warm on my hand and I didn't know what to do with it...I think I ended up just rubbing it off on my swimsuit. Well, I think after this experience, I was hella proud of myself for being able to make him cum. However, I was 13 and giggled and teased the guy afterwards for leaving semen in the house. It was innocent, but I think I may have hurt the guy's feelings a bit because we never did anything else after that. Oh well, you know just like summer comes and goes, so did that guy...literally.

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming. So, as I said I went through phases each year of high school. 9th - Slut, 10th - Chorus Geek (never really ever phased out of this, haha!), 11th - Emo/Scene, 12th - Hippie (not sure I ever really phased out of this either). High school was kind of an interesting time for me. I didn't really do much after that summertime hand job. I believe I became more exploratory my junior and senior years because I had a solid group of friends and we went to quite a lot of parties. During my junior and start of my senior year, there were a few guys I had make out sessions with, one came over to my house and all we did was make out on my bed. One time he asked to wear a pair of my basketball shorts and at the time I found it odd, but now I know why. He laid on the bed and I got on top and we dry humped and I remember there was a time he shuddered and his breath became hitched and now I look back and realize that he used my shorts for less tightness than his jeans and a way to feel me more. Then I think, that mofo came and then immediately left after that. No orgasm for me...the fuck man?! Another guy was a server at the Texas Roadhouse, where I worked as a hostess for about eight months. He was an incredibly good kisser and I loved our make out sessions. He was also well endowed, but I think even then I was still very hesitant of the idea of sleeping with a coworker, haha!

Evening of Entertainment (EOE) weekend, in 2008 was to be performed at Southern High School, so I stayed with a friend that weekend to be closer to our rehearsal space/school. EOE for those who aren't Durham Public School (DPS) chorus folks, is a DPS collaborative choral concert where a select handful of students from each DPS school come together and perform. After the concert we went back to one of the guy's houses to celebrate and while in a bunk bed, my friend and one guy in the top bunk were having sex, while I was giving another guy a blow job in the bottom bunk. I'm fairly certain this was one of my first ones, but I liked it. It wasn't that exciting, I was high, we had all shared a blunt before heading into that bunk bed situation. Another hilarious experience as a result of EOE was after rehearsal one day, a guy came by my house to pick something up he left at one of the rehearsals. I got into his car and we chatted for a while in my driveway. One thing led to another and he fingered me to orgasm in his car. It was one of the first orgasms I had that someone else gave me and it was exhilarating! I actually felt quite embarrassed though because it is such an intimate moment and to share it with that guy was weird because I wasn't attracted to him, yet my body released a response anyways. He then argued that it was his turn, so I gave him a hand job and that was the first time I realized that some guys may have longer penises, but a lack of girth to match.

Right before I graduated from high school and 20 days after my 18th birthday, I lost my virginity. In the most shoddy way. I have one of those stories that I regret it, but at the same time I am happy it happened and I grew up (re: learned something) a little bit after it. My three sexual partners thus far in my life I previously wrote a post about entitled The Three Lucky Gentlemen. I am going to give you the abbreviated version of each since that post exists. So, I had a few girlfriends go with me to a house party and that night was full of drinking, smoking cigarettes, and smoking weed. At the end of the night everyone pretty much that didn't live at the house slept in the living room. Drew (not his real name) and I were on the floor and our friends were on a separate part of the floor or on the couch. The living room had seven people in all. I was really attracted to Drew and in my drunken and high state of mind I made the first move. I told him I wanted to have sex with him and he agreed. So on the floor, he put the condom on and entered me from behind and there I was losing my virginity...on the floor in a room with five other occupants. Drew stopped after about 2 minutes and said the room was spinning and pulled out and that was it. I did not have an orgasm and neither did he. We didn't even kiss. Now you can see why I regret it.

After that experience, I was still quite immature sexually and would tell people how much I regret that moment and wish I could have a proper sexual experience. [Gaston enters stage left.] Gaston gave me my first real vaginal intercourse...and only ten more times after that, but it turned into eight months of emotional torture for me. He knew I loved him, but he didn't love me back and he continued to sleep with other women while we were sleeping together. He even hit on one of my best friends during this time. He used my love for him to his advantage and because of that toxic relationship, I have spent many years not trusting men. Those eight months I grew up and I grew up fast. I cried for months wondering what the fuck was wrong with me and not until 2012, so three years later, did I sleep with another guy.

Three years later I slept with a good friend of mine, Josh, as I called him in my previous blog post. It was a mutual fling and after that night where I never climaxed, I only slept with him on one other occasion, which was when I had my first anal intercourse experience. You can read about that in full detail in my Anal Sex post. Josh is the only guy I have remained good friends with after having sex with him. I am okay with the fact that those two nights occurred, and I feel we have moved beyond them and still remained good friends. I wish that could have been the case with the other two, but with Drew, we just kind of grew apart over time by not keeping in touch as tends to happen after high school, and I cut all communicative ties with Gaston after that relationship ended. If anything, Josh taught me it's okay to have sex and then realize it is better to just be friends.

After Josh, I spent a long time sort of reevaluating my sexual life. I decided masturbating was a better option than trying to invest emotionally in any other sexcapades. I graduated from undergrad and started my first 'big girl' job in 2013. The city I was working in was not a very social place for a 23 year old to find potential dates, so I continued on with self love/masturbation for a good 2.5 years. Then, I landed a job in my hometown and moved back into a more social dating atmosphere as a 25 year old. Unfortunately, a few months after moving back home, I went to a housewarming party for close friends of mine and was sexually assaulted that night. I won't go into detail about it because I already did that in a previous post which you can read here, but after that night I lost any sex drive I had or even thought about sex. It took me a while to even come back around to the idea of masturbation after that night. 

Thankfully, lots of opportunities for growth, self care, and self love have brought me to the point I am at today. On the flip side of that, due to these past traumas and experiences, I find myself scared to let someone in. I find myself flirting with potential partners, but then building up a wall probably way too early on. I have had plenty of chances to get with guys that I've gotten to know at bars and social events, but I play a bit like Jane Bennet from Pride and Prejudice where I have feelings for the guys, but they aren't plainly shown, so the guys move on to someone more forward. I find myself many a night falling into bed after a night out, playing through the events in my head and seeing a point where I could have stepped it up, but instead built this impenetrable fortress up. So, I roll over to my nightstand, pull out my vibrator, masturbate, and fall asleep. This is also why I frequently have sex dreams about the most random people. I had one about a guy I went to undergrad with, and it was quite hilarious to me when I woke up because in this dream I gave him the most amazing blow job, but when it was time to reciprocate, he was turned off by my unshaved legs and natural bush, AHAHA! It still cracks me up because the only reason he could have popped into my subconscious is because I saw an Instagram post of his before I dozed that night. 

To be fair on myself, I did in the past year and a half nearly sleep with a guy, but I had an issue and gut instinct about the way he kissed me that sent up a red flag. When we kissed, he only kissed with his lips, no tongue. I found it strange and it happened two nights in a row. I love to kiss! Full, sloppy, wet, tongued, passionate kisses and when he wasn't using his tongue for that purpose, I figured he wasn't going to be using it anywhere else. So, I denied his further advances and here we are now. I don't regret it either, after finding out a few days later via his Snapchat that he was a bit of a sketch lad, snorting coke off of a girl's ass in a hotel bathroom...yeah, I feel like I dodged a fuckboi there. 
All in all though, it is interesting to have studied Sexology, being a very sexually open human being, but looking back at all of my stumbling blocks and sexual history, to see where I am at today, how I got here, and to get a bit of a picture as to why I have commitment issues and hesitancy when it comes to being intimate with another person. It's funny when people ask me why I am so hesitant because there is a lot there to unpack, but I also have to be mindful of how much I want to disclose or not disclose, and it's just complicated. At least I now have a bit of a picture for myself as to why I feel so guarded, still, and hopefully I can start to break down these walls...even just a little bit to allow someone the chance to be let in.

My sexual history: The many reasons why I'm hesitant to be intimate: Part I

The title of this post was an alternate to my more accurate long-winded one: 

My sexual history: Why I have commitment issues with partners and opening up to the idea of an intimate relationship with partners: Part I
There will be a Part II posted later, where I pick up my life from 14 years old and onward.

I have spent many hours I could have been sleeping wondering why I don't have a partner. While in my sexological practice week intensive course, during a vignette role play, a lot of the questions that need to be asked of clients in an initial sexual history intake form had a lot of my intimacy (for lack of a better word) issues resurfacing. As in previous blog posts, my life is an open book. I am extremely transparent and, well, this post is no different. It will hopefully answer questions my friends have had as to why I am so picky, and why I sometimes tend to flirt with a man at the bar, and even though I do want to sleep with them, alarm bells start going off as the night comes to a close, and I take flight and end up home alone. Here is Part I to a very lengthy, but complete look into my sexual history. Buckle up folks! It is going to be a wild ride with many highs and lows.

Let's take this back to my formative years. As a prepubescent child, I always had an interest in reproduction, this probably started after I saw the movie, Look Who's Talking...or not. I say this because as a child the one bedtime story I wanted to hear nearly every night from my mom was my birth story. Not sure how many children enjoy hearing their story, but I loved hearing mine. Whether it started there or with the film, I enjoyed learning about it and even got in trouble with my Fifth Grade teacher for reading a fictional book about a woman who was having a baby. The irony in this curiosity about sexual reproduction is that this was the same year we had our puberty talk in the classroom with a sexual health presenter. Along with my obsession with pregnancy, reproductive health, and babies, I was also a Barbie obsessed child. I had the Barbie three-story dream house, the Barbie camper van, and all types of Barbies, Kens, Skippers, Stacies, etc. I would make my Barbies (I'm using this term for all the Mattel dolls, whether male or female) have sex with each other, and by sex, I mean oral, vaginal, and anal, Barbies would be breastfeeding the baby twins they had, and there were even just voyeurs off in the corner watching because I had no purpose for them in this orgy filled Barbie dream house as a rising middle schooler. Nothing was off limits with my imagination. In fact, I actually took pictures of this and have photo evidence, but they were taken back when we still processed film in stores, so the proof is back home in the States. Once I'm home, I will unearth them.
Update: They are now posted below! Enjoy, haha!

Unfortunately, there was a dark spot in my formative years and I honestly can't remember the exact year or how old I was, but I was somewhere between 5th grade and 7th grade and at least old enough to understand what was happening to me. I was on the bus ride home from school and sitting towards the back. I sat anywhere on the bus, wherever there was an open seat. There were a few guys around me and before I knew it, one guy was aggressively forcing himself on top of me and grabbing at my vagina. The thing I remember that has always stuck with me is the lack of help coming from other kids on the bus when I called out for it...nor help from the bus driver. The kid got off of me and off at his stop when it came and then mine came after that. I remember feeling so violated. I was hoping this would be the only experience I ever had to have where I lost control of myself and my body, but it wasn't and I will come back to that in Part II. 

Along with my Barbie role play, I also by middle school was watching Queer As Folk, any and all parody porn, such as The Lord of the G-Strings, SpiderBabe, etc. that could be found on late night Cinemax, Showtime, Starz or HBO. By middle school (years 6-8), I was beginning to sexually explore myself and porn on the internet. This even led me to asking my mother via email at the age of 13 for my first vibrator, which I named Ross (after the actor Ross Thomas from the tv series Beyond the Break, not Ross from Friends...I was not remotely sexually attracted to him). 

In the winter leading up to my freshman year of high school, I really explored my sexuality with others...and weed for the first time. I had this one girlfriend who I strongly remember going to her house often. She helped me create my AIM sn thngbaby1990 and enter into that whole online chat world. When we were together we would always end up making out and dry humping each other. We got high one night at her place and watched "Gangs of New York". It was a fantastic night, haha! I even explored threesome foreplay with one of my guy friends at that time and the girl already mentioned. That was hot to me, but never led to sex because I was still quite hesitant about that...and the guy was one of my best friend's ex-boyfriends. So a big no-no/off-limits guy, which is probably why I was more comfortable when he just watched while me and the girl had our usual make out and dry hump in our bikinis before going into the hot tub at her house. She went to my rival high school, so our paths only crossed when we were at youth group on Sunday nights, haha! So that relationship didn't last very long. 

After my eighth grade year ended, I became friends with another girl and spent a lot of time with her. We watched the movie Fear together for the first time and this was back when I had a list of things to do before I die, which I started in middle school. I added get fingered on a rollercoaster to my list thanks to that movie, ahaha! I digress...this new girl and I had a lot of fun together as well, we drank alcohol, smoked weed, and went to parties as you do (or at least I did) as a rising high schooler. However, there was one pivotal moment where our friendship fractured and was never truly fixed. It introduced me to one aspect of becoming a bit guarded. I went to a high school party with her and remember thinking, Yes! My first real high school party, where I planned on not coming home that night/told my parents I was sleeping over at a friend's house. Everything was going great, I was chatting it up with new acquaintances, I watched as some drunk idiot gave their dog beer, I shared a blunt with some guys and just generally had a good time...That was until the girl came up to me and said, "I'm going to have sex with this guy and, you see his friend, well you can have sex with him. He's got a big dick." I immediately went into fight mode and argued as a 14 year-old, I had not even had my period yet, this would be rape, and I was not ready for this to be sprung on me. I also, was not sexually attracted or interested in this guy at all. I said no repeatedly and thankfully the guy seemed okay with that. However, I had to sleep in the same room with this girl and the guy she ended up sleeping with and my buzz just turned into complete anxiety and a want to be home in my own bed. The next day a whole shit storm erupted when her mom asked me where we had been all night because she had lied to her mom about her whereabouts and her mom was quite the helicopter parent. I am a terrible liar, so I told her the truth about where we were that night, and that's when I basically destroyed what friendship had been in bloom all summer and at the start of my fall semester of freshman year (year 9) of high school.

I was a late bloomer and finally did have my first period when I was 14 years old in my freshman year of high school, but it was after that night at the party. 
I often consider my freshman year of high school my 'Slut' year, every year I had a phase. I considered it that because of that party experience, my experiences with my friend mentioned in the previous paragraph, and the fact that I took topless photos of myself and brought them to school to share with a guy who was on the baseball team. Looking back, I am lucky that he only took those photos to the bathroom for a few minutes to most likely jerk off, and then promptly brought them back to me. The problem was I didn't just let him see them. In my last class of the day, while in small groups, I let another guy look at them, and my English teacher did not like the distraction and took the photos away from me and said I could get them back at the end of class. I told her not to look at them, which usually prompts people's interest in looking at something. She did and I didn't get them back at the end of the class. In hindsight, this also could have been a moment for her to sit me down and have a chat with me one-on-one about why I took these photos and why I was sharing them with classmates. Instead, she took them straight to the principal, who then called in my dad, who was a teacher and coach at the time at my high school, asking if he knew about the photos and threatened firing him. When I came home that night my parents had the photos and were crying and asking me why I would do such a thing...There was a lot of shame resonating in this whole experience and honestly looking back, had my English teacher, who I still resent to this day after that experience, would have just sat me down and tried to make this a teaching moment for me and explain why this may not have been the best way to express my sexual intimacy, an establishment of trust and rapport could have been built. Instead, I look back on this experience, which I did learn from, and all I see and feel is resentment, shame and regret.

Stay tuned for...
My sexual history: Why I have commitment issues with partners and opening up to the idea of an intimate relationship with partners: Part II

Why I wasn't impressed with my SlutBox by Amber Rose

I was originally just going to make a Facebook post about this, but I realised I have a lot to say and felt it deserved its own blog post.
So from the first sales pitch, I was keen to know more about the "inclusive, sexy, confident, diverse, from the sheets to the streets and right to your door, SlutBox".

I signed up for the three-month subscription for SlutBox by Amber Rose, in which I had to fill out a short survey to "tell them a little bit about myself, and they would hand-pick special curated items with my style, sizes and vibe in mind".
I want to give you my answers, so you have an idea of what I was thinking I would receive in my SlutBoxes, and how I don't think they really hit the mark with the survey, at all.
It asked which pronoun I would like them to use, Options being He, She, or They/Them. I chose 'She'.
It asked how do I identify my sexuality, Options being Gay, Lesbian, Queer, Pansexual, Asexual, Bisexual, Straight, or Other. I chose 'Straight'.
It asked do I use safe sex tools, Options being Condoms, Dental Dams, Latex-free Barriers, All of the Above, or None. I chose 'Condoms'.
It asked what my T-shirt size is, Options being S, M, L, XL, or XXL. I chose 'L'.
Then there was a box where I could fill in anything else, any further information to get to know their subscriber. I wrote 'I'm currently in my first year of Master of Sexology program at Curtin University and I love the idea of this slut box!'

Okay, so with all of this information, I was expecting a lot of sex-related items. Maybe a small sex toy based on my sexual preference and identity, or condoms...according to the site I would be expecting "5-7+ slut-quality items (~$100+ value), Beauty, sex-positivity, fashion & more, Interviews, guides, inspo & more, and Charity & Giving partnerships".

After a three-month subscription, I decided not to re-subscribe because I felt like I was not getting my money's worth and honestly, a lot of these products were not tailored to me. It was okay. It was not what I had envisioned when I signed up for it. It is a lot of regular size items, not samples, that don't quite feel like they belong in the SlutBox...like the sunglasses which I will refer to later. There are a lot of self care items within each box, which are great, but some of them aren't really for everyone and I think are more of a sponsorship promo than actual SlutBox concept. This is not my first subscription box, I did ipsy for a year and I absolutely loved what I got from them and their products were very tailored to my liking, but the same cannot be said for my SlutBox.

Okay, the first month, May, was the launch of SlutBox worldwide. I currently live in Western Australia and a lot of people got their SlutBoxes before me due to proximity of the supplier. When I finally received my box, unfortunately one of the items inside had opened in transit and spilled throughout the box, giving off a pleasant smell, but not so pleasant feeling to the items and paperwork in the box. I let SlutBox know about this issue, but with my subsequent boxes there were items that still had the possibility of leaking in transit, but thankfully did not. There is a little zine inside that tells you what should be in the box and here is what was in mine:

• 3-pack Lelo brand HEX condom
• 1-5fl oz bottle of Measurable Difference's Lifting Cream for Neck & Dècolletè
• 1-2.5fl oz tube of Lelo brand water-based formula personal moisturiser
• 1-6.7fl oz bottle of DeoDoc Daily Intimate Wash in Violet Cotton scent (this was the culprit of the fragrant yet unpleasant spill in my box because it was not wrapped or boxed liked the other liquid containing items)
• 1 set of Pastease pasties in a heart shape that say SLUT in bright pink, repeated in a screen print style
• The exclusive We the Sluts T-shirt in size Large
• 1 Lipslut "F*ck Trump" shade Matte Liquid Lipstick, regular, not sample size
• 1-0.20fl oz Handipop edible hand job massage gel in Cotton Candy flavour
• 1-0.57fl oz tube of Yu-Be Moisturizing Skin Cream
• 1 Skin and Sense Conquer Lip Treatment in Banana Pudding flavour, basically bougie chapstick, which was melted by the time it got to me

Okay, so this was not a bad box! There were a few items in the box that had multiple options I could have received. With this box and with my two subsequent boxes, I felt like I was getting the short end of the stick on a lot of these options, which is part of the reason I unsubscribed.

I did not find the DeoDoc item actually a very good one to be sending out to the masses. As a studying future sexologist and just person who cares about my personal pH balance and vaginal care, I never used scented tampons when I had a period for a reason, I never douched because I understood that it disrupted my body's natural efforts of reaching a normal pH balance, and I never used any type of scented intimate wash and never will. So, this product spilled in my box and that was the only time it has been used. I think it was not the best choice to send out this item or its other options, which were an intimate shaving foam and intimate antiperspirant...The only item I would even consider using of those three is the intimate shaving foam because it's the least harmful product of the three. The other two products are highly problematic for natural regulation of vaginal pH balance. As for the lifting cream...I don't fucking need that and I would never buy that in real life, at least not as a 28 year-old. That item also had another option, which was Lipo-Lotion and again, I would never buy or use this product and don't find it fitting into my idea of the SlutBox concept. I feel like I was shafted on the Pastease pasties because the other options would have much better suited me, especially because I am a burlesque dancer! The other options were gold sequin stars, silver sequin mermaid shells, and holographic crosses/x's...and I got the fucking hearts with the screen printed word SLUT. The one I was happy to get was that edible hand job gel in Cotton Candy because my other options were ON natural arousal oil or gel or Sizzle Lips warming edible gel in Candy Apple flavour. All in all out of the first box, I plan to use 7 out of the 10 items. Cool...well, the second box actually was a bigger hit for me, out of the 12 items only two of the items I won't use. One specifically being the damn sunglasses I got, out of all the styles of sunnies, I received bulky ass aviators that don't sit right on my face and I will never wear these shades.

Today, my third and final box of my three-box subscription arrived and once again, I received some items I would never buy for myself...Lip plump, I do not need or want and a golden shade of eye shadow, which I already have thousands of thanks to ipsy, ha! Out of the 11 items in this month's box, those two items and the Art Naturals Lavender Hydrosol, I could have done without. 

What is missing from these subscriptions is slightly more intimate detail and information into the customers wants and needs from the SlutBox. There are quite a few items that I wish I had been given the chance to choose between within the SlutBoxes because it would have better suited my tastes and I would have felt that my $87USD for a three month subscription was better spent. Unfortunately, that has not been the case and is why I did not re-subscribe when the time rolled around this month. If you want the specific items list of the June and July boxes just let me know! I just feel like this is already pretty long as it is and if you really care, you will ask me personally, haha!

Things Aren't Always Sunny...A recap on my first five months in WA

I think this is a mid-life crisis and I'm not even thirty yet. 
Most of my friends are calling what I have done brave, bad ass, and awesome...while I'm over here leaning into child's pose with tears streaming down my face.
I have been in Western Australia for almost five months and still don't feel quite at home...and please don't say I'm "homesick" because it isn't home that I am sick for at the moment.

Let's start with me living in Perth.
I uprooted myself from a very well-paid job, with fantastic benefits and connections that I had almost three years of work experience with, in my hometown where my entire immediate family was no more than 45 minutes away. I left my cat in the care of my parents. I left behind a vacancy for the overnight and weekends hospital responders of DCRC. I left my burlesque community. I left my theatre friends. I left my girls' nights, GoT potlucks, sand volleyball league (s/o to my Red Hot Volley Peppers!), my Shakori Hills' family, etc. I left all of my friends and family and moved across the world, to the Southern Hemisphere for what I thought would be the only Master's program I would need to fulfill my dreams of becoming a sex therapist.
When I landed in Perth, after being dropped off at my hostel, I was able to take my first breath and realize that this was my new city. I did a lot of walking around the city, got my first bus card, attended a performance at Fringe Festival, saw Black Panther in the theatre (theatres here are hella frantic, especially on premiere days), and ate some delicious Pad Thai. Finally, on day five, I moved into what I thought would be my home for the next year.
With little to no money, I used my In Case of Emergency (ICE) credit card for about the first month and a half of living here, buying the essentials getting moved in and making sure I had a local cell phone, sheets on the bed, a towel for my showers, etc. My refund on my student loan did not come before having to ask my parents to send me money for rent, to make sure I would still be able to live where I was at the time. As someone who worked full time for the past five years, being unemployed was a new low, and being unemployed in a foreign country feels even lower.
Getting to know my roommates, which at the time I moved in were three female undergraduate freshmen and one female undergraduate sophomore, was a bit interesting. Things got even more interesting when I discovered the roommate that I would be sharing a bathroom with was our only male housemate, and he was a 24 year-old graduate student. Six people living in one household is a lot. Adding on top of that that I was about ten years older than everyone living there made things even more complicated. Things were alright in the beginning, the first month and a half we set up one night a week for each roommate (except one) to handle dinner for the housemates. I enjoyed it, but like a lot of good things, it didn't last. The sophomore and myself agreed to still keep up sharing dinners one night or two a week, and even went grocery shopping together. She was my saving grace, the reason I stayed sane as long as I did in that house. As the time passed on, sharing a bathroom with a male became problematic. He had issues with keeping the shared spaces clean, i.e. kitchen counter tops, stove, sink and mirror clean, etc. One day sent me over the edge though, when I came into the bathroom to find he had spit into my mug that kept my toothbrush and onto my toothbrush, which was one of the only things I kept on the counter. After that violation of my personal space and belongings, I had had enough. After discussing this issue with multiple friends, I decided to start looking at other living options. The stress was getting to me and I was not sleeping well or handling my stress well. After only two months of living in Bentley, I found a new place in Inglewood and moved out.

In April, I moved to Inglewood and have been paying two rents until this week! I have been waiting for my former landlord to find someone to sublet it, and finally a new person has moved in...But that is three months worth of rent I paid on two places, and guess what? My funds are dried up. I am still unemployed and it is harder to find a job than one might think when I am restricted to only part-time work, with a max of 40 hours of work fortnightly. Again, I embarrassingly had to ask my parents for money after trying to look for a job and being unsuccessful here in my new place. Australia is still very new to the idea of unlimited data plans for internet, so in the past few months I have been struggling with living on less internet usage than normal, when in the States that was ALL I used because cutting cable was actually cheaper. The irony is not lost on me when I have to watch whatever is on tv because the household needs to be mindful of its data usage. The fridge died recently, and I had to purchase the new one costing A$300 on my ICE credit card. It looks as though as of last night, our oven may need to be worked on and one of the stove top burners is not working either. Thankfully those came with the house, so the landlord has to handle them. My shower leaks and may need to be re-grouted, but that still has yet to be done, but again that is a landlord issue to be dealt with on their time and dime.
There have been positives of moving into my new place, I have a bedroom to myself with a queen-size bed, en suite bathroom, my own personal balcony, walk-in closet, and technically two roommates (one lives mostly with their partner) who are both female and are around my age. I am within walking distance of my grocery store, less than a block, and only one bus ride to other shopping. There are plenty of restaurants and cafes nearby, and I'm only one bus ride into the city. This place has been so much more convenient for me, and has allowed me to be a bit more independent than my last house.

Let's move on to discuss how my first semester of grad school went...
Grad school, after completing my first semester, is very much self-led learning. Less time in the classroom, more time spent working on classwork outside of the classroom. 
For people who like to know numbers, this semester:
I read over 183 journal articles.
I wrote seven essays culminating in over 11,000 words.
I spent two weeks living in the library with classmates studying for my only final of the semester, which had over 60 pages of research we created as a group that went into two google doc study guides.
My highest grade on my essays was an 88, while my lowest was a 62 (which is still a pass here), so far...Still waiting on one final essay grade, but I am not thinking it will be that low...fingers crossed.
I'm expecting to sit on an average in the 70s for the semester, and while I am not happy about that, it is consider Distinction and passing marks for every class.
As my first semester of grad school has come to a close, I have had time to reflect on it. A lot of bull shit has happened this semester. A lot of my grades were not received within the university assessment policies guidelines surrounding time frame, and a lot of my feedback on my essays was very vague, and at times not constructive criticism. Lots of excuses were made when valid questions were asked, and course instructors were placing blame on others, making things seem very childish and unprofessional. Also, I learned in my block-intensive week course that this degree is a supplement to a Master's of Psychology/Counselling/Therapy/Social Work and that upon graduation, I will not be able to be a licensed therapist and start working in sex therapy...or even Education, since I do not have that background either. Basically, this is a specialization within a degree masked as it's own Master's. I feel shafted by Curtin, and this Master's program because they did not explicitly lay this information out on their website and most of all my wallet's depth just keeps expanding at the thought that I will need more educational training following this degree to perform the job of my dreams, which I'm not even sure of anymore at this point.
This degree quite literally is setting me back another 1-2 years...This is going back to the very first thought in this post that I am having a mid-life crisis because I feel so LOST. I came into this program so empassioned by the work I was doing in my hometown, wanting to further that work and get paid to do it, rather than just voluntarily do it outside of my cube farm day job. I still want to help people enjoy sex. I still want that, but now...now I am slightly lost on whether I want to continue into trauma-informed care, or whether I want to work in public health policy...or I don't know, dabble a bit in both?
Australians are lucky. They have what is called a HECS Debt that pays for their schooling up front and after the student receives their degree or just drops out, they pay it off over time. Me? As an international student, I have had to pay upfront for this Master's degree, just like in the States, and while I am diving into over $50K in debt, I am unsure whether I want to increase that debt with my second year of this program, or start looking at other options that are less expensive back in the States or nearby Canada...I just have a lot of thoughts, especially being broke, alone, with about a month off before the second semester kicks up, and I am feeling completely helpless with my current unemployment status. I just don't know whether this is worth my time and it really hurts my feelings because I've wanted this all of my life and now that I am here, I feel underwhelmed, unenthused, and just disappointed. Things aren't always sunny in one of the sunniest places in the world and I am feeling it.

My Sexual Assault Story

Today is the 29th of March, and like some people, last night as I was slowly drifting towards sleep, my mind decided to think about some deep shit in my past. It is a well my subconscious goes back to every now and then, and this time I got up, jotted a note to write about it today, and here I am. 
Forewarning this is a long read, but I appreciate those of my friends who stick it out to the end because it gets better!

We are two and a half days away from April, which is Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM), and last year was a very busy time for me and a few friends working hard for the Durham Crisis Response Center and also planning the events leading up to Take Back The Night Durham 2017. Last year I didn't get to share my story at the Speak Out event we hosted at the end of April, and I said to myself, I will share it next year, it's no big deal...Well, here we are, it is next year and I am in a foreign country, haha! I feel strong enough now to say the words I secretly felt I couldn't last year because in some ways it still felt too fresh.
Now I feel strong enough to tell my story and to also say his name, keeping in mind that some of my friends are still friends with him, and I hope you understand that I just can't be.
Please note that in sharing my story, I am in no way asking anyone to go out and become vigilantes, I am doing this more for myself and to stop being fearful of saying his name.

Sadly, my story is not just one occurrence, but two. I honestly can't remember the exact year or how old I was, but I was somewhere between 5th grade and 7th grade and at least old enough to understand what was happening to me. 
I was on the bus ride home from school and sitting towards the back. I sat anywhere on the bus, wherever there was an open seat. There were a few guys around me and before I knew it, one guy was aggressively forcing himself on top of me and grabbing at my vagina. The thing I remember that has always stuck with me is the lack of help coming from other kids on the bus when I called out for it...nor help from the bus driver. The kid got off of me and off at his stop when it came and then mine came after that. I remember feeling so violated. I was hoping this would be the only experience I ever had to have where I lost control of myself and my body.

That unfortunately was not the case.

Fast forward to June 28, 2015. Some really good friends of mine had moved into their new home and invited me and a lot of their close friends over for a housewarming party. They always throw really nice get togethers and alcohol is usually involved, so I planned to spend the night well in advance. As the night progressed lots of food, alcohol, and laughs had been exchanged. The night was winding down and I set up my air mattress in the living room. There was another air mattress blown up next to mine that a woman slept on, another woman slept on the couch, and as the arrangements played out one guy, Bill Cox, that I had a crush on at that time, did not have a place to sleep. I invited him to share my air mattress, seeing as it was a Queen-size mattress and there was plenty of room for two to share. I wanted to cuddle with him, but was really too drunk to do anything else. He cuddled up close and at first it was nice, but then he began tracing his hand down and into my panties, mumbling things I couldn't quite understand. I was tired and we were in a room full of people, even drunk this hearkened back to my loss of virginity debacle that you can read back in one of my previous posts on The Lucky Three, and I was not feeling it. So, I pushed his hands away and told him to stop and to go to sleep, but he just forced his hands back, thrust his hips into my backside, and said things like, "you know you want this, and oh, c'mon!, etc.". I eventually was able to push his hands off of me and put a bit of a division between us with the sheets, but I refused to give up my own bed for him. So, on the farthest right side of the mattress I could go, I slept there in a ball. Shivering and feeling once again violated and gross. In the morning, I woke up next to my assailant and as soon as I could get out of the bed, I did. I changed clothes and tried to shake off what happened the night before. I told my friend, we will call her Jean, what happened the night before. Later that day, after driving back home, I messaged her and told her I still felt violated and just not okay. She volunteered for a rape crisis center and knew what happened before I could really put it into words and asked me if she could reach out to Bill and talk to him. I gave her permission to do so and later received a message on Facebook from Bill that said:
"Hello Emily, Jean was just telling me that was was an ass to you last night.  I don't think I've ever been that drunk and i have no idea what i did last night.  There is no excuse for any of what i did. I should not have drank so much and i am very sorry and ashamed that i was a jerk."
While I appreciated this apology, I honestly had SO MUCH running through my head after reading it that I could not respond. I still haven't. When I first read his message, I was angry, I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to cry because I know he meant it, but all I could do was read the message and then close it. 
While Bill did not rape me, he did sexually assault me. If you are unsure in this story where the sexual assault happened, it happened when I withdrew my consent and he continued to sexually grope me. I did not send mixed signals. I always communicate my sexual wants or withdrawals, and he did not listen. He took away my bodily autonomy that night and it took me a very long time to feel that sense of self and sexy again.

I am currently in my sixth year of celibacy because for a time after that night, I was not sexually active with myself nor found the idea of sex enticing. I was disgusted with myself and had been celibate at that time for three years, hoping to end that soon, but I regressed. The worst part was when I disclosed my assault story to someone I considered a very good friend, who does not know Bill, and all she did was dismiss me. I kept this story inside and it ate away at me. When I felt I was strong enough to see past it and felt comfortable enough in myself, I reached out a year later to the Durham Crisis Response Center (DCRC) and began volunteering with them as a volunteer hospital responder advocate for sexual assault and domestic violence victims. Those two years I was with DCRC before moving to Australia were the most therapeutic and fulfilling years. I felt at home with all of the lovely volunteers and felt like I was able to help other survivors in a small semblance of a way that Jean did for me. Along with volunteering with DCRC, I took a burlesque class and explored my own sexuality at an even deeper personal level. I learned to fully love myself and share that love onstage with sold out audiences. No fear, no shame, just LOVE and freedom of sexual expression. I am very thankful for my burlesque family and I am crying as I type this at the moment because without them, I honestly don't know if I would be where I am today. I love you so much, my Boom OR Bust family. You mean the world to me! 

Now that I am in Australia studying Sexology, I feel like I am surrounded by a new family and support network. I also finally feel sexually ready to explore sexual intimacy with someone other than myself...It is sad that it has taken nearly three years since my assault to get to this point, but I am glad I have made it to this point...and the only thing I have left to say is if you have ever been sexually assaulted, raped, or abused, I believe you and your story is important! I love you all! Now let's go take back the night this April!