Today I received a check in the mail for $500. It was a refund for a deposit I put down on an apartment in early April, a decision I had made in deliberate haste not having any idea where I should live or how much things cost and really I was just exhausted because I had been unwittingly coerced into personal conversation with a man I had met the night before whom I thought was meeting me at that bar midday to up and show me real estate. The thing is - I will talk to anyone about anything usually sex and my personal life because hey - that’s what I do. I tell stories. I have a lot of them. I usually listen to your stories too and give some pretty damn good if not just well-worded advice. Getting together with me is like one big share-fest no topic off limits including my best fuck follies and everything that went wrong in your last relationship. By the time I interrupted the tell-all chit chat and asked whether or not I was going to be renting a new place anytime soon I had about reached my breaking point. I threw down on the second and last space he had planned to show me. Who cares. Get me the fuck home. If this is what apartment searching in New York is like I think I’m done. Oh. Oh you want to get a drink now? And then DINNER? Am I this nice?? Yeah I’m nice. Fuck it. Free guacamole.
I make stupid decisions like a bad habit. Maybe it’s laziness, or avoidance, or just an inability to read a shady scene in the moment. But over the years I’ve developed a great talent for damage control, at least enough so that I’ll make it out unscathed. Can’t say much for the other parties but they’re partially responsible for my predicament in the first place. Still uncertain about the apartment I had seen earlier, upon returning to that freezing Airbnb that reeked of Trader Joe's and Mrs. Meyer’s hand soap (don’t they all), I immediately texted a broker about another place I had been scoping out, she replied with a phone call that led to a positive vibrant conversation, professionalism with zero bullshit, and a rent stabilized apartment in Bushwick that’s twice the size of that other shitbox. As if to nod at my turn to good sense my best friend from earlier in the day soon hit me up with a novel text about our newfound connection followed by a rather blunt assertion about coming over and relentlessly fucking me. Well. A quick “No Thanks” and decision made. I left it. Signed the Bushwick lease. And went on to imagining the exciting prospect of moving to New York.
Upon my return to Chicago I realize I’m $500 out and kind of need that money back. Not to worry, this stuff happens, deals don’t go through, potential renters aren’t approved, papers never get signed, I’ll just ask for the refund. Keep it simple. He assures me that it’s already being processed, would I like to come pick it up? Yeah, so we can have another 7 hour impromptu get to know you date? No thanks. Send it to me in Chicago, here is my address. I won’t be back for another month. I’d like my money now, please.
I don’t know about anyone else but when I’m expecting a check in the mail I open that box every single day. Normally I let shit build up and sometimes even bust open so the last tenant’s ladies catalogs and my dozens of meaningless Blue Cross letters and way too weekly Nature magazines spill out all over the floor. But when money is on the way I'm taking trips down the stairs with no shoes on each time I hear the gate close just in case that was the mailman. Every day I do the math to figure out what my account balance would be once I have that check deposited. I maybe flirt with the idea of buying myself a present Wait Wait that’s for moving no more shoes! After a couple weeks of this agonizing anticipation I texted my Broker BFF again. He asks me my last name and is going to go look for the check, and would I like to come pick it up when I’m in town? Motherfucker you know both who I am and what I want you to do with that check. Just because I didn’t respond to your text when the Purple One left this earth doesn’t mean I didn’t receive it and forgot who you are, man who assumed you could fuck a woman because she talked about fucking, not in any way fucking YOU. Why, Men, did you all think it was ok to contact me about Prince just because I have a connection to him, and none to you whatsoever? A little transparent, wouldn’t you say? You weren’t thinking about what I was feeling on that day, or a funny quip you once made about Graffiti Bridge and I put my hand on your knee, no. You were using a celebrity’s death as an excuse to reach me knowing that I am a megafan and you have no other knowledge of who I actually am or how to even talk to me. Are you that desperate?
I once again texted my Chicago address thinking Well maybe he’s just an idiot and not actually trying to hold my money hostage so he can see me again. But I don’t need to tell you that I waited another 2 weeks and he never sent the check. Because he NEVER SENT THE CHECK. And of course I asked again. And of course I’m told there was even more confusion at this well-established real estate business where he worked, like a bunch of fucking monkeys running around throwing stacks of paper in the air and smashing keyboards on their desks. After a promise to send, a full week waiting and another apparent miscommunication at that damned disorganized place, I remembered the name of his company, called, the woman I spoke to found it immediately, sighed, apologized, and two days later I opened my new mailbox in Brooklyn and received a check for $500.
I heard from him a couple days after my move-in date, which he was aware of. He was wondering if I had picked up my check. I’m assuming he was planning on delivering it himself having received my new address in a frustrated text about Sending the Fucking Check Already, and had probably freaked when it was missing. I ignored him. I have my money now, fuck that guy. Seriously. Fuck That Guy.
I know I’m an easy target for situations like this. I know what being an openly sexually available woman does to men, especially when they don’t understand that it’s still not an invitation. But that doesn’t justify their behavior. It wasn’t my fault that he mistook my candidness for intimacy or a connection or even some sort of desire to fuck. Don’t you know what the signals are? Don’t men learn how to pick up on when a woman wants to go down and when she just wants to talk? Do we need to teach them better? Our world is evolving and this Victorian hold over contemporary social culture is finally loosening its grip. When women are vocal about our sexuality we need men to comprehend the difference between sharing and flirting. I should be able to leave the house in giant heels, slim black pants, a low cut blazer, and feel free to rant about my latest sexploits without fear of being mistaken for a someone who is trying, right at this moment, to sleep with your dumb ass. Guys - just because women like talking about sex doesn’t mean we want to fuck every single person in our company. The way I share with men is identical to the way I tell stories to women. I shouldn’t have to censor myself for fear that a man’s libido is too sensitive to handle the way that I talk. Get your shit together. Have a little self-control. More than that, have a little self-awareness. If anything you should think that I’m coming off pretty arrogant and self-absorbed by not shutting up about my own private life and in no way relating it to you. Because let’s be clear - I’m never asking you questions, or leaning in your direction, or looking at you with hopeful eyes. Is the simple fact that the subject matter involves fucking mean that you are now expected to fuck me? Explain those physics. Because in every other topic I could come up with your eyes would gloss over and I’d struggle to keep your attention.
Here’s a fact for all you men out there - you’re not that special. Meaning you don’t deserve sex just for having a dick and being present. Maybe you don’t practice discretion when you’re horny but I have standards and a pretty complex vetting system. Unlike a man who hops from woman to woman at a bar when he’s in need, requirement WILL SAY YES, your ability to show up isn’t even part of my criteria. Don’t you know anything about women? I may rant and rant about all my particulars but unless I’m making it pretty clear that I want you to experience them with me you’re just not a candidate. I get that vibes exist, attraction is real, you can be turned on and fantasizing about all the wild shit you want to do while you’re sitting there listening. But know what your options are. Inviting lust is different than inviting contact. And it’s time we start holding everyone accountable to actually understand the difference. If you want to call me a tease or accuse sexually open women of treating men unfairly you might want to think about what it means to tease someone in the first place. What was being offered to you that was taken away. Are you so deserving of sex that the mere mention of the act implies that it’s yours, and when it’s denied you have been wronged in some way? Does this mean that women owe men intercourse otherwise we’re not allowed to speak of it? What seems to be so dangerous about a sexually available female is that in already claiming ownership of her body she may be open to offers but she is still perfectly capable of saying No.
Maybe it’s all a little too far off at this point. Most men are going to think or at least hope our sexual energy is directed at them. And they’ll probably continue to make fools of themselves in the process. I don’t mind. I’ll never stop punishing a man for his entitlement and then writing all about it. It’s time they start learning, and for women to know that now is our opportunity to teach. Men aren’t just going to up and change because we’ve found our light. It’s our job to train our partners, our friends, our acquaintances, and passersby how to treat us. Flash our sexy vibes all over the universe, yes, YES! We have all the power in the world! We have so much power that men are scrambling and calling us whores and pretending to be Male Feminists and withholding $500 deposit refund checks for a whole month until we find a way to get it back without them. It’s time we start giving a little direction. It’s in our hands now. So go help your man see what you see, be forgiving, know he’s likely clueless and he probably just wants to do the right thing. And if he’s still a total fucking idiot send him over to me and I’ll write him up on this website. For I know no shortage of idiots, and I’ll never stop making examples, I’ll never stop writing, I’ll never stop Hustling for the sake of female power and all the potential we have to embrace it. Fuck self-censorship, never stop the conversation, it's ours to be had.
Let it ring loud and clear that I am a Submissive. Let it ring loud and clear that I am Dominant. Let me take a moment to explain how this works.
You may know what Topping from the Bottom means in any specific sex act. A true Sub lives his or her life, both in and outside the bedroom, dominating the relationship through submission. A more cynical onlooker would call it subversion. It’s really just the emotional dynamic of givers and takers. Once you understand who is actually giving and who is receiving, then it makes a whole lot of sense.
I take on a very traditionally submissive female role during sex. I prefer to sleep with large men who can physically dominate me. Other than fellatio, which I consider a very powerful act, I don’t do any work or perform any moves on him. For the entire session the man is the giver and I am the taker. While I may be spanked, bitten, constrained, choked, smothered, slapped, or placed in precarious positions, in any healthy relationship he is the one bursting with emotion and action. I am simply allowing it or not, measured purely by the meter of my own pleasure. I would argue that even when a man is not so healthy and is aggressively acting out I still hold all of the power. This is usually the case in my sexual encounters and I begin to get off on how even more than his desire to please me he is actually desperate for my approval. It becomes evident when I get the men who want to cum on my face or in my mouth. Once I had a man who so tellingly pretended that he withheld his cum then joked about women who spit after giving head saying “But I made that for you baby. That’s mine.” Men who want you to swallow their cum well – they just want to be loved. And every time I put a dick in my mouth I relish in all of the control I have over that precious organ that gives them so much purpose, esteem, insecurity and perceived power. I take care of it. I hold their valuables at my disposal.
When the clothes are back on and I’m face to face with my lover out in the real world the dynamic of giver and taker holds true but starts to change color. I’ve seen the dynamic in some couples who practice BDSM in far more extreme levels than what I prefer and there seems to be a clear emotional divide between the two partners. You’ll find that while a Dom expresses his or her feelings through sado sex acts they will come out just as deeply in the form of tenderness, love, adoration and devotion when the couple carries on outside the bedroom walls. Submissives like myself tend to remain a little shut off. Stoic may be the correct term. I often feel like too much is being asked of me. I certainly am not capable of giving back the same level of affection. This doesn’t take away from the Alpha quality of the men that I date. I stick to leaders of the pack, chiefs of the tribe, your overall Masters that run their social circles and are used to having power in any given situation. Being an Alpha Male and being emotionally available aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact Secure Alpha Males usually don’t know any other way. My act of dominating this man isn’t so much putting him in a position of weakness, it’s more that by remaining emotionally unavailable I maintain the control. Expressions of love and affection are his was of offering it to me, acknowledging the power that he is perfectly comfortable knowing I possess.
When confronted with difficult men who don’t necessarily understand that it’s ok letting a woman have power it becomes that much easier to take it. These are your face-cummers, your talk-downers, your basic goddam mommy issues. I have been with partners who fuck me the way I’ve described above but when we leave the sex behind they hold on to the physical aggression and translate it into the way they communicate. (This being the most important difference between healthy Sub/Dom sex and the inauthentic – the healthy male feels no actual aggression whereas the Amateur is finding a place to vent all of his.) I have slept with men who attack my character, criticize my passions and life choices, disrespect my sexuality after Loving my sexuality, set up conversations littered with landmines, even just flat out call me a whore. What most people don’t realize, these men especially, is that when you speak with disrespect or hostility you are immediately showing weakness. When you ask a million questions even with the intention of manipulating you’re acknowledging your own unimportance. By placing any sort of focus or emotional investment on me, positive or impossibly negative, you are simply throwing your hands in the air saying “You got me woman! You bitch you got me!” They’re frustrated, confused, pissed off and every once in a while knocked down one or ten more pegs when I choose to open up and sternly, logically, without any heat or emotion, let them know exactly why they are frustrated, confused, and pissed off. It usually doesn't change much. In fact it seems to make it worse. They just give it to me harder - give me their anger, their fear, their revenge fantasies, their hate, and I just take it all in and have both great sex and a hilarious story to tell my friends. Though in reality I wish every man could express positivity and warmth when he feels his feelings, this is primarily the situation that I’m faced with, so I've figured out a way to make it work for me.
There’s no true explanation or playbook on how to Top from the Bottom. I think that for me it’s the essence of what I feel makes me female. I know that I inherently have all of the control as soon as I come face to face with a new man. I know that there’s nothing I have to do in order to convince him. I’m simply looking to find someone who can meet my needs. If I am able to maintain the understanding that my power is unchanging whether or not he is in my life then my behavior just proceeds as normal: I get to indulge both my sexuality and emotional limitations and get fucked by a big strong Alpha or convincing fake Alpha and then go home and not worry about having given up any part of myself. If he is a good man then a mutually understood Sub/Dom dynamic will grow out of it. If he is an idiot well… he may just lose all the power that he’s been trying so desperately to steal. So I throw in some mean little quips sometimes. I castrate on occasion, ever so subtly, dismissively. Let me be clear that I’ve slept with some real fucking assholes. But it stays true to the dynamic that I describe here. While these dicks feel their egos bruised and battered with every date and interaction we face, I get exactly the kind of sex I like while they're living the fantasy that this is their opportunity to take the power back. It’s a win/win.
But take note – if you want to keep it a win/win don’t make the mistake of ever talking about Topping from the Bottom with a presumed Top. Don’t ever talk about what it really means to be a Sub. With any man. Any time. You’ll fuck with his head. You’ll be lied to. Manipulated. You’ll have terrible sex. Some cum withholding motherfucker will make you do Reverse Cowgirl then never take you to the Disco. Believe me. No one wants to know that you are aware of your own power. It kills the fantasy. So be a real Sub and secure the border. Know which questions deserve to be answered and which ones are traps. And by all means don’t do Reverse Cowgirl. At least don’t ever give that guy another chance. Because he’s just lied, exploited, and cheated the system. That’s Bottoming from the Bottom. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit.
Though over many years of dating and meaningless hook ups I have experienced a multitude of lovers ranging in styles and proclivities there are three main personalities that have remained consistent in my sex life since living as a Single Adult Female fucking her way through Chicago. They each bring with them a specific obstacle whether it be emotional dysfunction, sexual dysfunction, or flat out sparseness. Allow me to describe what I’m dealing with here and you’ll have a better grasp of my terminology as you navigate this site in the posts to come.
When I wrote about this particular breed during my rants of 2012 I used the term Insecure Alpha Male. This is a great way to think about the Amateur when you hear his name come up, as it can be misleading given that he is often pretty great at sex (that’s the Alpha coming through). Amateur refers to his emotional capacities. Or really lack of ability to have any emotional self-awareness or control at all. He funnels it into his need to then control his surroundings, his social circle, his dates. The Alpha play-acting is born and you’ve found yourself someone that you can easily manipulate into a type of Sub/Dom sex focusing on aggression and body-to-body violent domination.
My sex numbers overwhelmingly counting Amateurs, I’ve come to really know what I’m getting when each new one comes strutting along. If played right I’m going to receive basic acts of domination plain and simple. I exist in a sexual field of force and a little aggression rather than plays of control or restriction. So basically it’s just good ol’ rough sex. Amateurs love those spankings, they’ll even slap my ass pretty hard but I wouldn’t expect them to know what the hell to do with a paddle or flog (or a spatula as I’ve heard from the occasional disappointed friend). I’m talking about Amateurs here, this is aggression, not art. Don’t get me wrong I can get my fill as a full on Sub. If they put me on top it’s in fact in a controlling way. They’ll still perform the actual motion of sex and maybe hold my arms behind my back, hold me still, overall contain my movement. I’m not actually doing any riding (thank god). And my tits are on full display to be grabbed or lunged up towards to bite at any point. There’s no turning around up there. Please. Like any young virile man these guys love those tatas. Doggy style is a must. It’s pretty forceful too. My face may be pushed into the pillow, no propping on the hands as if this is some poised position, it’s pure domination. In fact hands to the face or neck is a popular move. While in missionary I will get to lock lips and feel moments of tenderness but it’s directly contradicted with a smothering of the face or mouth, maybe some light choking. It’s rare to cross over to more painful acts though I have been able to induce a slap or two by not so subtly dropping the hint beforehand. In other cases I’ve met with more degrading forms of aggression like sitting on my face shoving a dick in my mouth or the need to cum all over it but this actually only seems to happen when a man is feeling particularly vulnerable which comes out afterwards during awkward unsolicited way-too-personal pillow talk.
Most Amateurs aren’t running around town spanking women and pulling hair though. They’re usually going down on her for 20 minutes and making out while they fuck face to face, maybe sitting up. The only way to experience rough sex from a man like this is to solicit it. How? By asserting your natural power. Remember the term Insecure Alpha Male. This means that the Amateur may come across as an Alpha, but he has only been able to maintain this status by a constant effort to contradict who he really is, a formerly nerdy introvert who was never too successful with women but jerked off way too much to Becky Two Tits in High School, that bitch who never glanced over when he passed her in the Hallway on his way to AP Bio. These men are usually highly intelligent complex thinkers. It’s why they are equipped with any self-consciousness to begin with, and also why they have been able to learn how to socially adapt and earn positions of power and a control of their surroundings. They may emerge outgoing and confident. They reek of arrogance. But most of it is just the mortar holding together the protective wall they’ve built around themselves in order to mask their crippling insecurity and fear of women (Becky Two Tits). I’d say overwhelmingly in my case – of their own mothers.
So when I say that I coerce the Amateur into fucking me like a Dom, I mean that I simply tap into his inner 14-year-old nerd with all that pent up frustration who doesn’t know if he wants to trip Becky so that she falls on her pretty little face or lunge over and throw his arms around her, feeling her pert breasts against his racing heart. Here’s the thing about Becky Two Tits – she’s always going to be desirable. Even if he does choose to push her down he’s still going to look back as her skirt flips up exposing that firm little ass. That’s masturbation material for a week! With the sexual goals I have in mind I just aim to be tripped. And it’s an easy task. Challenge his manhood.
There’s a really simple way to go about it. It’s what I all too often forget when I’m losing it over a man or intimidated by a new date or dissecting something hurtful someone said. MOST MEN ARE IDIOTS. Usually I truly believe that I, as a woman, hold all of the power and he’s just fumbling around trying to do and say the right things, and because of this I can really get whatever I want. Men are hilarious. Once I am able to stop taking someone seriously I immediately go into emasculation mode completely unaware of myself. This is exactly how I get the sex that I want. Bringing up other men I’ve dated, pointed slips of the tongue, sexual challenges. All subtle subversion. It’s not my intention to influence monster bitches by sharing this - running around treating men like dirt. This is more to demonstrate how much power we actually hold if we choose to use it. Not all men are idiots, and not all men are meant to be pushed and manipulated. But the Amateur… you can do whatever the fuck you want.
The reason why I may be so antagonistic towards this group is that over the years I’ve picked up on a particular masked misogyny and disrespect for strong and sexually independent women. It’s a sexism that has grown out of fear and perhaps childhood scarring and frankly has bruised me more than I’d like to admit. I remember once after a very lovely session with a man that I only saw on weekends after 1am, to both our liking, he said exactly “You’re just so bad for me. This is so good but I need a girlfriend who won’t like, let me cum on her face.” The multitude of problems with this statement will be addressed in other essays. But one thing this Amateur had done was Slut Shame me minutes after he came, while I was still in his bed, still nude.
Statements like this are not uncommon. Crude gestures or disrespectful quips indicating a marked disdain for sexually liberated women who aren’t restricted by the patriarchal structures of sex and relationships meaning we don’t need men to survive come my way constantly. They fuck me the way they do because they want me to need them. They want to regain the control that the Insecure Alpha Male feels he’s losing in a growing, changing community that continues to build more and more strong young women who have evolved way beyond the average man’s capacity to understand the realities of healthy adult relationships. I let them. It’s the power of being a Sub. I get exactly what I want and their emotional effort still only results in my sexual satisfaction. It’s win/win.
This is why I continue to give these assholes the satisfaction of going to bed with me. The sex is consistently good. And because of their outright fear of women I don’t care when their treatment of me comes out in totally offensive potentially hurtful ways. We can have complete control over this type of man. It has become almost impossible these days to take anything they say seriously. As a result of this I can almost always get mine, and perhaps now be ready to pick up on the right signals when I cross paths with a fully formed emotionally evolved adult male.
The biggest and saddest difference between an Amateur and Fuckboy is how easily they can get a woman out of her clothes. Fuckboys get the chicks it’s why everybody hates them. You know when you’re dating an Amateur because he is well aware of what a Fuckboy is, will throw out the term, and say it with a little spite. That means he’s losing women to this clearly less competent male who he considers just another pretty face. It sounds a lot like my writing in 2012 about the takeover of the HotDumbGirl. Lots of bitterness, not enough sex.
I honestly don’t have much to say about this guy. I barely have any experience actually fucking them, only just close calls saved by good common sense. And really because I don’t like having to work to get laid. And neither do Fuckboys. So our paths rarely cross. They also have been able to build themselves up to a level of societal cool that I don’t really observe. So not only do I never get approached by one, I don’t often have the desire to walk his way on my own.
It’s only partly true that a Fuckboy doesn’t like to do any work. They work on themselves, just not on you, so that in the end when it comes to courtship they appear desirable enough without having to put forth any effort to convince you of their worthiness. Whereas Amateurs will let you know the multiplicity of ways in which they are impressive during your conversation (and are really quite convincing), Fuckboys just expect that you will understand. Amateurs are salesmen. Fuckboys are actors. Both careers are based on the pillar of pure bullshit but in one he is selling with all of his cunning and in the other he is building the image of a character that will inevitably sell itself.
It’s hard to pinpoint a list of characteristics here because it’s specific to each social group. Most of the stories I have heard go like this: You hook up with a good-looking tattooed bartender who rides a motorcycle and doesn't think he has to do any work to get laid. You think you're in for a wild night then he prematurely ejaculates on your comforter and you never see him again. He’s fucked every smart successful woman's bedding in town.
Bartenders can be interchangeable with men in shitty bands or some brands of up and coming Artists. Anyone with that classic vintage badass look that has often been cultivated in order to compensate for an inability to fuck longer than 30 seconds.
An encounter I had recently went a little more like this: a guy spent two dates talking about all the cool shit he was going to do to me then I went ahead and slept with him, he put me on top, made me do Reverse Cowgirl and called it a night. I never saw him again while he likely continued to have High School Sex with every smart successful woman in town.
Also a bartender. But this move can be consistent with regionally successful musicians and the photographers and filmmakers who shoot them. They haven’t built up an image of rugged badassery, in this case it’s the façade that they possess a level of sexual prowess above the average man simply because they are borderline successful. You hear it in their music or observe it in their work, read it in between the lines of their manifestos. See it in their struts. It’s an embodiment of virility that really only comes from overconfidence and watching too much shitty porn. And we suffer from those high expectations because all they want is a bitch to ride their dicks and maybe suck it without any reciprocity. There’s certainly selfishness to blame, but out of a lifetime of entitlement there’s nothing to grow other than pure incompetence.
That’s the thing about Fuckboys. They’re human examples of false advertising. You may find one in Lincoln Park – the perfectly coiffed young financier with his pressed checked button down, Patagonia vest zipped over it, khaki chinos and boat shoes without a mark. He looks like he played lacrosse in college right? He’s so tall, he must have been a defenseman. You’ve got to be wondering what he would look like if you just unzipped, unbuttoned, unbuckled all that mess. He definitely still works out. Maybe jogs along Lakeshore with his black lab. But he’s not looking. Standing there alone at the bar with a gin and tonic just staring above everyone’s head occasionally glancing up to check the score of the Blackhawks game. Why isn’t he looking at you! You’re the hottest fucking chick in here. Hands down. You watch as groups of women in their tightest, sexiest little going out outfits approach him only to walk away minutes later, defeated, heads down with a little less pep in their step. What will please this man. What does he want. What does he fucking want???
An experience just like this led me to my first meeting with a flat out Fuckboy. Of course the term hadn’t been coined yet so I just took him as another massive douche. But here is how I chose to handle such a situation:
I walked up to this tall, beautiful, impossible motherfucker and said these words “If I hadn’t just taken a vow of abstinence I’d fuck you so hard your dick would come out of my mouth” and immediately turned around while that great big hand reached out to pull me back in. We exchanged a few words, phone numbers, No I actually just did take the vow, Cool I like the Packers, yeah engineer inventing shit impressive, and then I left. During my drive home five minutes later I received this:
I almost crashed my car I was laughing so hard. Even if Mr. Dickpic had made it to a cab, back to his apartment, undressed and taken that photo in his own bathroom which is clearly where it took place in all of those five minutes, he would have had to remember to put that gold cross on which was not visible under his slightly unbuttoned white shirt at the bar where we had just met. That was a stock photo Dickpic that he kept on his phone for just this occasion. Which is the one and only way a Fuckboy will put in effort to get laid - with picture of his dick. Call me old fashioned but I rule out as soon as I’m presented with an image that precedes the real life genital meet and greet. Really guys. What are we supposed to do with that. THAT’S your move?? Your Penis?? It’s the same thing as a man telling you all the ways he’s going to fuck you then not being able to perform. You can’t seduce a woman with your cock. What does that even tell us? It’s the simplest form of entitlement you can ask for. Here – this is my dick, because I have this dick you wanna put it in you of course, right? It’s like here – here are my tattoos. Because I have cool tattoos you want to fuck me right? My motorcycle looks really cool when I ride around with no helmet so you can see my man bun and black beard. This deserves sex. I’m so creative and powerfully unique but in kind of in a secret genius way that like I don’t really care no biggie but because I’m so humble after badatsports interviewed me I deserve sex right? My band is playing Empty Bottle for the THIRD TIME this weekend that’s like triple means for a quick fuck right? Yeah I’m a total Dom. I’m really into all the same stuff you are and I’ve done a lot of stuff. Like a looooooot of stuff you wouldn’t even know. I can show you the stuff you wanna see the stuff?
This is the reason why I don’t mess around with Fuckboys and why you need to know how to spot and avoid: sex may be fun and frivolous but we’re supposed to get what we pay for dammit! It’s partly the game that they play and partly us for creating these symbols of masculinity that we communicate will be rewarded with our desire just for being attained. We’ve created the Fuckboy by giving him everything, expecting even more, and not being able to hide the shock and disappointment when he can’t perform. They move so easily from one woman to the next because of this very fact. I don’t know how deep we are into this epidemic in order to turn it around, but I will say on an individual level if you want to avoid a great build up to really shitty sex – only let yourself sexualize a man AFTER you know what he’s like to fuck. Alpha Males, Doms, Tops – sometimes it’s really hard to tell until everyone’s naked and just getting real.
Though my terminology isn’t taken from BDSM play or relationships please bear with me as I describe a Master that instead is an imaginary role I’ve created that makes up for the wealth of disappointment and dissatisfaction I’ve felt from all of my past experiences. With a little sprinkling of the really healthy and positive attributes of both an ex boyfriend and my longest lasting Fuck Buddy. I’ve often tried to map out a Dream Guy when I’m in a rut and I want hold myself to higher standards. Oddly when I do this someone close enough seems to show up. It’s how I met Ray. The loss I’m still mourning, however selfishly. So in moving forward with this description it should be understood that I am pulling out little snippets of other women’s stories, moments in movies and TV shows, spontaneous sexual fantasies and close calls during intense conversations in order to build what may not even exist. I chose the word Master from a video I watched about Satin Bower Birds where in contrast to the Playboy he always had shit together and didn’t seem to even have to try to get laid. Here is my Master:
A teacher. First and foremost he is the only male on this list with a truly developed and heightened sexual prowess. This may come from a lifetime of exploration and comfort in his own body in order to interchange roles, experiment, try new things and allow himself to be vulnerable to his desires. It also comes from a long history of respect and admiration for women which can allow him to embrace this vulnerability without fearing consequence. Basically we’re dealing with someone who is far more evolved emotionally than the average man. I don’t know anything about his history. Who his parents have to have been. What kind of kid he was growing up. I have no idea. I don’t know how a man like this develops. Without any fear of women. Maybe just without a fear of me. Because I’m fucking scary. I keep everyone on their toes.
I want this experienced man who has had a multitude of partners and sexual lifestyles because I feel as though my sex life has always been extremely limited. I enjoy what I’m able to get and I’ve become really good at getting it consistently, but I’m bored. I’ve always been much more excited by fantasies far beyond the capacities of any Fuckboy or Amateur that I’ve dealt with. Being that I know nothing of what other circles of sexing exist I can only describe second hand inspirations that I’ve heard. Like the story Ducky Doolittle told at a talk my friend Minette and I went to at Chicago Ideas Week. She, another Sub, was directed, kindly, to buy a ball gag. Not her thing but whatever. Instead of bringing it home to use she was instructed to keep it in her purse. She carried that thing around for 6 weeks never knowing when the moment would come, until finally at long last she used a ball gag for the first time and beyond her greatest expectations it became her favorite toy. To watch her describe this story culminating with the way her whole face gushed with excitement recounting how it affected her upon first use I immediately wanted to go out and buy one for myself. To my embarrassment I backed out due to The Fear, much like the fear that some single adult males have when they never keep condoms in their apartments because they worry it will jinx them into never getting laid then you go over to fuck and you have to get one out of your purse because you’re a single adult woman and you worry that if you don’t keep one in there it will jinx you into unprotected sex.
Masters keep condoms in their apartments. Because they don’t have to worry about whether or not they’re going to have sex. Being confident self-assured adults they can indulge when they want and take a break when they see fit. Because sex is fun and frivolous and for pleasure. And a man who understands that isn’t so fucking desperate. And he isn’t ruled by his cock. And he’s got so much more important shit going on in his life that he has the freedom to be unhinged from sexual hang-ups.
I think what becomes clear in my experiences with most men is that they are slaves to their own dicks. This is what creates the fear of women in the first place. When constantly on the quest to conquer by penetration they are faced with the inevitable possibility of rejection. As soon as a man sees a woman as an equal then there’s no longer pressure to hold weight on a scale that doesn’t exist. The Master appreciates the company of a woman herself more than the fact that she appreciates his. The way this translates to sex has the potential to fulfill both our needs, and I have had the good fortune of two wonderful partners to know it exists.
The best kind of lover I’ve had and the kind that influences my vision of the perfect partner is the Giver. In fact Giver could even take the place of Master as choice of word. This may sound contradictory to how I describe my predilections but allow me to explain what a Giver actually gets out of sex.
A man who wants to give to you sexually gets off on your pleasure. His arousal is heightened by your reactions to his actions. In this regard any woman can solicit any type of sex from this one particular man. All he cares about is seeing her cum. Not immediately, not as some sort of accomplishment or trophy fuck, but he wants to experience her pleasure for as long as they can both take it. He shares my philosophy that sex is pleasure. And his needs are met when he’s able to meet those of his lover’s. This is the best way for me to get what I’m looking for. The men like this that I have been with aren’t naturally rough. They’ve tried things with me that they maybe had never imagined would feel good, or please a woman, or maybe not even be OK. But with open communication and the understanding that I feel erotic pleasure from the infliction of pain I was able to solicit acts I have never had the ability to force out of an Amateur or even suggest within the capacities of a Fuckboy. It was common to wake up after sessions with marks, bruises, scabs. It never made me feel particularly tough or like I was coupling with another badass. In fact we used to joke about what seemed like such silliness, a sexy silliness that remained strictly in the bedroom and had nothing to do with our interpersonal connection. Once sitting at brunch with an ex lover he pointed to my neck questioning the long thin geometric pattern stretched across one side. We couldn’t figure out what the hell it was until later when he looked down at his silver link medical bracelet and paused, mimed a chokehold, then burst out laughing.
The Master is such a special guy and so few and far between because he flat out loves women, and fucks because of that love. It’s a sorry statement to make but a lot of men are out there just looking for ways to feel better about themselves. Sex is the most powerful motivator in our culture. More powerful than success, money, and love. But by systematically ignoring its value and treating it as a prize to be won while focusing all of our virtuous attention on success, money, and love, we’ve created a general insecurity in most men and women who end up with no choice but to regain control through that one and only powerful life force: Sex. Those of us who understand and appreciate its true value, that we need pleasure in our lives not proof, have the duty to share with our friends and more importantly find lovers who live by the same moral standards. If we’re not fucking for pleasure, and fucking partners who are pleased to bring us pleasure, well we’re just giving more life to the culture of Fuckboys and Amateurs.
I’ll find a new Master, because great men do exist. It’s really only a matter of remembering that sex is fun, frivolous, and purely, only, fundamentally, for our PLEASURE.
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