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!

Touch Yourself

We all touch ourselves. Whether it is intentional or we are unconsciously doing it, we all touch ourselves. Back in April I sent out a tweet in question to men, just out of curiosity, and received no reply. 

Recently, while chatting with a male friend, I brought it up again and it was very interesting to hear his arguments on the male population (broadly) versus my own personal experience when it comes to touching one's self.

In his words to answer my tweet he said, "Mostly it depends on how serious a guy is about doing the caressing. Honestly, I think for guys even masturbating is such a routine function that 90% of the time, there's very little extracurriculars...Men are biologically evolved to be more visual in these areas than women. I think you'll find that the vast majority of guys CAN'T masturbate like that [without a visual]. Without some sort of visual stimulus, a lot of guys can't get there [achieve masturbatory orgasm]. At least not unless they're really worked up already."

If this is the case, I think it's a shame. I believe because I have had so much sex with myself, I find just the sensation of touching myself slowly, mindfully and sensually is so sexy and sometimes soothing. My end goal isn't always to masturbate, but to just feel the sensation of fingers on skin. By touching myself, I don't just mean my vagina and breasts. I mean dragging my fingers lightly up and down my arm, over my belly, etc.
For me, it is almost meditatively done. You have to let go of the thought of what you are physically doing and just feel it. Sometimes I will even close my eyes and imagine it is someone else's hand, knowing full and well that it is my hand, but allowing that dream like state to take it to another level...No, I am not on drugs when this happens, I am just very in tune with my own body and what feels good and how I can make myself feel good.

My male friend found this very curious and asked, "When you do this, are you usually working purely off a mental fantasy? aka not watching porn, reading something, etc?"

Right. No porn or books. While those two things may give me a visual outright, a lot of the time I just let my imagination flow and listen to my body more than try to picture a man in my mind. Whatever flashes in my mind at the time is what works best for me. It could even simply be the idea of a strong man's hand, nothing else corporeally. The strong man's hand tracing the fingers up and down my side from shoulder to hip, grazing and pinching my nipples, etc. Again, this is more about the sensation and how it makes me feel. I feel very sexy in my own skin and if someone else does not have the pleasure to explore it, self exploration will have to do for now. 

My male friend after listening to all of this said, "You sound like the goddamn Jedi Master of self love and I'm slightly envious, lol."

Me:

This is what happens due to the fact that I have been celibate for 5.5 years now. I am so in-tune with my own sexuality and truly love my body. Being body positive and sex positive are some things I really strive for on a daily basis. At 27 years of age, I am confident and sexy in the skin I am in and truly hope that it stays that way. 

For the people who read this post, I encourage you to touch yourselves more often! Learn what works and what doesn't for you. This is an important act of self love and self awareness and everyone should experience that, often.

Why telling a woman to get a gun to protect herself is wrong

There have been a lot of emotionally driven exchanges over the past week, and rightfully so. We as human beings are emotional creatures and it is okay to have and express your emotions. What is not okay are the people continuing to judge others for their feelings and for expressing them. Those feelings are valid and real!

I am a person who wears my heart on my sleeve and I am completely transparent about my life and the way I lead it. Every part of it. I am lucky to have grown up in a family where it is okay to be who I am and express who I am openly. I will continue to do that until the day I die because once I stop being who I am and keep quiet about an issue that puts another at a disadvantage, I immediately side with the oppressor. 

While some of my friends recently have been logging off of Facebook temporarily to wait until the political climate hits a lull, I will not. It will not shut out what is actually happening around the world and if Facebook is one of the platforms I can use to share my stories and the stories of others to try and make a difference, then I will, while I still have the choice.

I have made several posts regarding the Women's March this week and have shared several articles surrounding the march as well and have received criticisms from men regarding some of these posts. I have seen similar posts my friends have made with the same criticisms from men.

These posts have had a component that involved violence against women. I have had and seen several men say on this platform, "well if a woman wants to protect herself, she should buy a gun." I have stayed silent to gather my thoughts on this and now feel ready to explain why it is completely WRONG for a man to say that to a woman, about a woman.

1. Let's start with the victim blaming issue here. You may not look at it and think that the statement is victim blaming, but behind the suggestion of buying a gun, you already look at a woman as if she is a victim, a prey and how she should protect herself.
2. A man may also suggest a woman take self defense courses, carry mace, pepper spray, a knife or a whistle on her at all times for protection. Again, reinforcing the idea that a woman is a prey. Of all of the above suggestions, a woman having a whistle seems to be suggested the least, "oh no! We [men] have to go straight to suggesting a gun!"
3. I am in no way saying anything about your right [to bear arms] when I tell you it is wrong to tell a woman to buy a gun to protect herself. But if you try to breach the argument using that, I will shut that shit down because it is irrelevant. Think about it. The Second Amendment of the United States Constitution reads: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." (Cornell University Law School) Trying to argue that it is a woman's right to own a gun vs. a woman protecting herself against violence with a gun, no. Just no. I have the right to buy and own a frying pan, but that doesn't necessarily mean I will ever use it as a means of protection.
4. Guns escalate violence. Say a woman has a gun for protection, but her assailant uses more force than she can fight against, steals the gun away from her and kills her with her own gun. It's a Catch-22.
5. Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault are about Power and Control. Not all violence against women warrants a gun and you should know the signs:



NCDSV Power & Control diagram

6. WHY ARE WE NOT ASKING THE MEN TO CHANGE?! Seriously! Why should a woman be the only one to change or expand her habits as to not be targeted as a victim or prey?! Are you teaching your sons (and other men) it is not okay to hit a girl or stalk her or call her names? If you are not, then we circumvent this issue. We should not have to tell our daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, grandmothers, cousins, nieces, etc. how to protect themselves against violence, if we are teaching our sons, brothers, fathers, uncles, grandfathers, cousins, nephews, etc. how to have respect women, give women their personal space, and let them have control over their own self. I feel strongly that all men need to take women's studies courses to fully understand what it is like to be a woman, how far we have come in society, and yet how far we still have to go to achieve equality and respect. Knowing is part of the battle. Knowledge is power.

My hope is that we can stop victim blaming and start asking men to respect women properly and let women take control and power over themselves and their bodies without the use of self defense courses and weapons for protection. Until we can achieve this, we are not equal and this is why I marched.

Why I am Getting an IUD Today

Hi. My name is Emily. I am a 26 year old adult. I have been on birth control since the end of 2004, when I started my period as a late-bloomer that August. Want to talk about embarrassing first impressions in high school? Try bleeding through my pants in class and running to the bathroom crying and pleading to my dad, who also taught at my high school and had a planning period, to go home and bring me a new pair of pants and underwear. If you think that is gross, you don't have any right to tell me I shouldn't worry about my reproductive rights. I wear them on my blood stained underwear. I was told by my female doctor at the time I asked her to put me on birth control back in 2004 that this was not a free pass to go and start having sex. 

1. I was having irregular cycles, where I had my period one month, then two months later I had my next one and it was two weeks long, heavy flow. That is why I wanted to be on birth control at that time, but please tell me how menstruation isn't considered a "medical condition" like erectile disfunction is...
2. I was a virgin! How dare any doctor judge me for wanting birth control for medical reasons, yet assume I want them so I can be the next town's floozy. Which is why after that appointment and receiving my prescription, I switched doctors.

At the time when I was 14, I was afraid of the pill. I did not trust myself to be able to remember to take it every day around the same time. Out of that fear, I opted for the birth control patch because I only had to worry about changing it once a week and it did not matter at what time of day I changed it, as long as it was on that day.

I stayed on the patch for 10 years. After ten years, I was over it. I still had a heavy flow, cramps that made me sick and doubled over with pain and I was just tired of the marks the patch left on my body. It was effective in regulating my period, but that was about it.

In 2014 at my visit with my primary care physician, I asked to switch to the pill because of all of the reasons I mentioned above and by 2014 I was having to take a daily allergy medicine. I realized adding one more tiny birth control pill would not be a hard thing to add to my daily routine. So I switched to the birth control pill. This made a tremendous difference! My flow lightened, my cramps have practically gone away to the point where I sometimes forget I am on my period and it has continued to keep my cycle in rhythm, regular.

After reading President Trump's policies he planned to put forth if elected president, I knew my right of free access to birth control may be taken away...again.

I remember back in 2004 having to pay over $100 a month for my patches. If we are heading back to that, I don't want to know how much my current pills would cost me per month. 

So, in fear of the cost of this medication shooting through the roof that the United States still deems a "lifestyle choice" rather than a "medical condition", I am going in this morning to my OB/GYN to have an IUD inserted. I chose the IUD method because it is a long-term form of birth control, meaning inserted today, remove five years later (or sooner if I find myself ready to try and conceive). I am making this decision while I still have control over my own body and my reproductive rights. I am also doing this now because there is no guarantee it will work for me. I have a 6-month trial period to see whether my body will accept it, fight it, miscarry/expel it. I am putting a foreign object inside of me to prevent unplanned pregnancy, to regulate or even stop my flow, to reduce the pain of cramping, and because I want to and have the access to do so right now. I am planning to go to graduate school next year and honestly cannot afford to imagine paying $100+ for birth control a month on top of all my other living expenses and that sounds ridiculous...because it is ridiculous! If this method doesn't work for me after six months, at least I will still have other long-term birth control options to try before graduate school that will outlive President Trump's first (and hopefully only) term.