Nov 16
AndrewRelationships
Degradation triggers, according to my friend who coined the term, are turn-ons from actions and roles that normally fall outside the structure of conventional sex. His point was not whether it was freaky that some people like to be pissed on. Rather, he mused that everyone has a trigger like this -- something that feels wrong but it just feels so right.
Degradation triggers come in tiers of deviance, known as pissing levels, that are calculated on four factors. Those are 1) the type of fluid involved, 2) duration of the event, 3) the ingestion requirement, and 4) the potential for harm. The result indicates how deviant the trigger is from conventional sexual acts. Three of the four factors (the exception being No. 3) are measured on a six-point scale that breaks down like this:
1 -- safe, pleasant, no loss of self-respect
2 -- minimal risk involved, mildly repugnant, minimal loss of dignity
3 -- some risk involved, socially abhorrent, potentially humiliating
4 -- greater risk involved, unequivocally gross, requires strong resolve
5 -- life-threatening risk involved, repellent in no uncertain terms, unwavering willpower necessary
6 -- dangerous and disgusting and bordering on psychopathic
Type of fluid involved
Maybe it goes without saying, but this doesn’t always have to be bodily fluids. There’s piss, poop, spit, vomit, blood, and then all other secretions. But taken from outside the body, there are a nearly limitless number of possible sources ranging from milder (lubricant) to wilder (hot wax).
Duration of the event
Self-explanatory -- the length of time the person is expected to endure said trigger before sexual thrill (though not necessarily release) occurs.
Ingestion required?
This is simply a 0, 1 measurement. 0=no ingestion required. 1=ingestion required. No partial credit here.
The potential harm
For some things, the potential for harm is part of the thrill. For others (like asphyxiation) it is simply a necessary risk involved.
Measured on these four factors, you can pretty much take any sexual act and compare against any other or against a norm like missionary position intercourse -- which I think even without the scale we can agree is largely considered the standard for sexual appropriateness. But let’s throw it on the scale anyway!
Missionary Position versus Golden Shower
Type of fluid involved: (Missionary) potentially semen, saliva and maybe some other benign secretions. While it’s true that sex isn’t always safe (STDs) pleasant (ugly people, virgins) or involving no loss of self-respect (ugly virgin) the fact is that it’s hard to argue this isn’t a 1.
(Golden S) urine. 3.
Duration of the event: (Missionary) the only way you could argue this up to 2 is if you want to claim some loss of dignity if the guy prematurely ejaculated. Otherwise, it’s a 1.
(Golden S) most people can only pee in a steady stream for less than a minute, so 2.
Ingestion requirement: (Missionary) No, 0.
(Golden S) correct me if I’m wrong, but there is no actual requirement for swallowing right? Maybe I’ve just been doing it wrong. 0.
The potential harm: (Missionary) None. Bodies were meant to do this. 1.
(Golden S) Yes, there is minimal risk. 2.
To tally it up. Missionary position sex is 3, the lowest possible pissing level. Golden shower is 7. Neither really veers that far off of the beaten path of permissible sexual behavior. But you could apply this same calculation to virtually any sexual act, and you should. So next time, come up with a pissing level for whatever you find yourself doing in the bedroom. Take my word for it, it’s good for a small thrill.
Apr 21
AndrewRelationships
It’s Tuesday morning; this article begins sometime around 1:30 AM when I mysteriously, after ninety minutes of sleep, awake and damn it all if I don’t get back to sleep.
I want to tell you I heard the siren call of my website; abandoned these past few weeks while my life kind of bounced around on its own pattern like a plinko chip. That would be a total lie. I abandoned ship out of a strong desire for renewal; to start over and rejuvenate my focus, recharge my energies. My writing was getting stale and kind of stinky. There was nothing to say and even that was articulated poorly.
The time away didn’t really fix that. I’m amazed how intractable human beings can be, most of all within myself. I desire change but there are no quick fixes, there is no snapping my finger and waking tomorrow a better person. I can smile, I can laugh, I can find my muse but any legitimate change is going to be gradual if it’s going to be permanent. Maybe you can do better, but I’m just not wired that way.
I like to think of my writing as a stabilizing force in my life, but the truth is probably that it more accurately reflects my manic depressive splits than I care to acknowledge. I set out ages ago to write for an audience but lately only write for myself. This has become more of a livejournal-type blog than I ever imagined it could be. But if it doesn’t serve a function for you as the reader, then the question has to be asked: does it serve any function for me as the writer?
And the truth is, I have no idea. And I think that, too, has been pretty evident in my writing lately. A wise source told me to treat the past as water under the bridge and learn to look to the future without looking backwards first. But the thing is, we are nothing without our yesterdays, good or bad. So maybe I can avoid looking over my shoulder as I move on, but I think it’s wise to embrace who we are and how we became that person rather than pulling up the rug and sweeping away all the debris underneath.
What this all means for my website and my writing more generally, I just don’t know. What I do know is that I have taken you, the reader, out of the equation which is too bad but perhaps inevitable. This wasn’t a change that I aimed for particularly but it was something that simply evolved over time. Because I don’t really believe that relationships stay static, fixed in place like painting, I know there will be new opportunities in the future.
Finished at 11:26 AM on April 21, 2009
Mar 26
SquidHumor, Relationships dating
I’ve never been great at picking guys who are ‘good on paper.’ Despite my two very expensive degrees from a reputable university, I’ve never dated someone who has put in more than a few semesters of community college. Despite the fact that I’ve been pretty much on my own since 18, I’ve dated many, many men who still live at home and whose mothers still do their cooking, dishes, and laundry. While I often spend summer evenings enjoying a bottle of wine and a good book in my backyard surrounded by my potted plants, I generally date men who would rather be playing Xbox with a six-pack of PBR in their parents’ basement.
Select friends tell me that my choice in men is a reflection of my being white trash (which, for the record, I am not). I’ve gone out with men who are ‘good on paper-’ who grew up in Connecticut, went to Ivy League universities, and are given lucrative stock options at their corporate firms… but these guys just aren’t my cup of tea. I mean, I’m the child of a foul-mouthed cop who always had a case of Bud in the fridge and a pack of Marlboro reds in his pocket… I can’t bring any-old pansy-ass home to mom and dad, and I wouldn’t want to.
Admittedly, when it came time for college, I packed up and moved away from my hometown to live in the city, and I do have quite the collection of designer clothes (from Filene’s Basement and Marshall’s, of course), and I do enjoy an al fresco Sunday brunch on Newbury Street or a night at the theatre… but that doesn’t mean that I want to date, in the words of the Governator, a ‘girly-man’ who does the same. I would much rather a man who can pinpoint the strange noise that my car is making, who can build a shelving unit for my books, and who wants to throw back a few pints after we do some yard work on a Sunday afternoon.
Perhaps when I hit my thirties my priorities will have shifted and I will be looking for a man who can’t take one hand off his blackberry to take his suit off and f*ck me, but for now, I’ll be at the neighborhood bars looking for every unshaven, Guinness-breathed, Boston-accented mechanic, carpenter, and state DOT worker who will mow my lawn and give it to me good once he’s already worked up a sweat.
Mar 11
JeremyHumor, Relationships porn, sexuality, watchmen
Question:
Dear Ask Daily,
Why are straight men so into lesbian porn? I mean, what’s the deal with that? Is it some kind of lesbian conversion fantasy or what?
-Inquiring Minds Want to Know
Answer:
Dear Inquiring Minds,
One of my friends, a heterosexual male, was describing the new movie Watchmen to me a few days ago. His biggest commentary on it, other than the awesome violence, was that there was waaaaaay too much male full frontal for his liking, accompanied by physical shuddering, etc. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a comment like this. Hence, I can come up with only two hypotheses regarding the impact of the sight of the male generative organ on men: it makes them feel inadequate or it makes them gay.
So far, we’re not even talking porn here. But imagine, if straight guys get this upset about a bit of penis on the big screen, a constant barrage of it on their TV screen (or, more likely, computer screen) has got to be panic inducing. It raises all kinds of questions in the male mind, such as “Does my girlfriend want me to be that big? Cuz seriously, I’m not even half that size” or “If I get turned on watching this, does that mean I’m gay? I mean, yeah, there’s the girl, too, but I’m seeing his man parts and I’m enjoying myself!” Consequently, thoughts like these can only negatively impact the man’s performance in the bedroom. When he suddenly can’t get it up with his girlfriend, he then starts to convince himself that he IS gay and then he feels inadequate because he has no fashion sense and doesn’t know the words to any ABBA songs.
So how does all this relate to your question? Clearly, this sexual insecurity about, or even fear of, the penis expresses itself in the desire to watch girl-on-girl action, in which the only competition is a clearly fake strap on. Lesbian porn takes away the threat for straight men.
However, this doesn’t begin to explain all those lesbians who purportedly get off on guy-on-guy action.
Dec 24
AndrewLife in Digital, Relationships cell phone, Facebook, Phone, Texting, twitter
Communication these days is such a weird negotiating process. When you meet someone new, or just try to talk to your close friends, you have to figure out the best way to get ahold of them.
It’s no longer a simple thing to pick up the phone and dial a number and hope that someone answers on the other hand. They might (if they like you, if they hear the ringer, if the phone is charged) or they might not.
It’s no joke, there are literally dozens of options to choose from to contact someone, text message, AIM, gchat, blackberry IM, Skype, phone, twitter, e-mail, courier pigeon to name a few. And every single one of your friends, family and acquaintances, new and old, has their preferred method to be contacted.
Myself, for instance, I listen to all my queued phone messages at one time. If you call on Tuesday, I might not listen to your voicemail for weeks, by which time, I have another twenty voicemails to delete and fifty missed calls to wade through. Your ninety-second voicemail takes me 3 and half seconds to delete, and that’s about how much time you have to convince me to listen to it.
Even before cell phones, I always used my phone sparingly. If I didn’t pick up when you call, I didn’t want to talk to you to begin with. Phone communication was traditionally at my convenience, not yours. The coming of e-mail was a godsend. And I usually respond to e-mails and text messages within minutes of receiving them.
While philosophically, that hasn’t changed, not only are there way more options to contact me than just a straight up phone call, my phone on its own caters to, let’s see, well…almost all of them. From my phone, I can take calls, e-mails, text messages, twitter, facebook, gmail, yahoo. Short of courier pigeon and the US Postal Service, there is almost limitless coverage of every conceivable mode of contact.
Because of that, the rules go out the window when I’m catering to someone else’s preference. I have one friend who will respond faster to text message than any other medium. We almost never actually talk on the phone. When dude calls me up to chat, you better believe I pick up the phone. That’s something special.
Likewise, my father isn’t so much an e-mail guy (he’s not so much a phone guy either) which makes those phone calls special when they do come in, no matter how much I disdain using the phone myself.
It’s all about negotiating. There should be an implicit understanding that if you initiate the contact, you use the preferred medium of the person you are calling, texting, whatever. But in reality, it becomes a question of who wants it more, the person calling or the person being called.
It’s not all a wonderland to have this many options. It’s led to a lot of less personalized contact. I think bulk updates by e-mail to every person you’ve ever met are impersonal and insulting to everyone on your distribution list. But sending out a mass message through facebook or twitter makes sense because those are designed for that purpose. There is an implied invitation to read someone’s status update. And e-mail (and texting) by its nature is an exercise in passive aggressive obstructionist behavior. It requires finesse to not read too much or too little into an e-mail lacking any clues but what you know about the sender already and just the characters on the screen.
The net effect of all these options makes meeting new people and making connections with them even more impractical. Communication preference is an extra layer of idiosyncrasy that we didn’t need, and one that has begun to get in between individuals. Instead of bridging the gap, e-mail, texting, cell phones, facebook, twitter, it’s all widening the gap between yourself and people you haven’t met yet.
My friend met a boy who said “call me” and he meant it. He never responded to a single text message she sent. But in failing to acknowledge the text messages, all he is doing is making it harder for them to connect. This isn’t even a case of him making her do all the work. His preferred method of communication was talking on the phone, and he never failed to either answer or call her right back. But how do really you tell someone ‘we can’t go out if you’re going to insist on sending me text messages’? Look, people do all the time now. It is actually acceptable to freeze people out until they learn to communicate on your level.
Hey, I’m as guilty as anyone else. So either send me an e-mail now or wait until I’m damn well and ready to check my phone log and maybe I’ll get back to you sometime. It’s your call.
Dec 18
AndrewRelationships self love
Question: Do all guys get turned on by their reflection?
Answer: I’m a bad person to ask because I stop and look at myself every time I pass a mirror. That includes those mirrored polls in department stores, my reflection in a car window, even occasionally on my watch face.
I guess you could take a straw poll and find out if guys will self-report finding themselves hot stuff. I know some of my friends whose narcissistic tendencies are pretty astounding (that’s a nice way of saying they are full of themselves). I actually find that kind of confidence a turn on myself…
Which reminds me, it’s worth pointing out that guys get turned on by everything. As Xander put it in Buffy, linoleum turns us on. (Well, he said, “I’m 17, linoleum makes me wanna have sex.”) But believe me, that sentiment pretty much carries through until the penis stops working.
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