Theresa Tingey / Student Health Education Centre
The sex positive movement has promoted safe, consensual and open sexuality for decades. Proponents of this ideology celebrate the healthy and pleasurable aspects of safe sexual activity among consenting adults. In an article for “Health Promotion Atlantic,” Lisa Tobin of Planned Parenthood Metro Clinic of Halifax explains that sex positivity includes having an open-minded, inclusive and comprehensive definition of sexuality, viewing sexual health as a human right, and focusing on both the positive as well as some of the possible negative consequences of sexual activity to allow people to make their own informed decisions about sexual activity. Though many would agree nowadays that this perspective is more than reasonable, the sex positivity movement has not been without its share of opposition.
One particularly interesting and ardent opponent of this idea of sex positivity was John Harvey Kellogg, of Kellogg’s cereal. Besides building a breakfast empire, Kellogg also wrote about his very conservative views concerning sexuality in his books “Plain Facts about Sexual Life” and “Plain Facts for Old and Young,” which were published in the late 1800s. For example, Kellogg was especially concerned with masturbation. He believed that masturbation degraded the moral integrity, physical and mental health of both male and female practitioners and resulted in cancer, urinary tract infections, impotence, epilepsy, loss of vision and even death. Modern scientists, however, would tell you that not only does masturbation not cause these illnesses, regular masturbation has been linked to decreases in the risk of prostate cancer, increases in libido and mood and possible immune system benefits.
In any case, Kellogg supported some especially drastic procedures to dissuade people from masturbating. Such procedures involved applying carbolic acid to a female’s clitoris, circumcising males without anesthesia and literally suturing male genitals in place to prevent erection. In each case, Kellogg suggested that to truly discourage masturbation, individuals were to associate pain with otherwise pleasurable sexual activities. He even designed corn flakes to decrease interest in sex through his flawed notion that their high carbohydrate content would reduce sex drive. Interestingly, the creator of Graham Crackers, Rev. Sylvester Graham, also shared this belief that a bland diet low in protein would minimize libido.
Kellogg was just one of many opponents of masturbation around in the Victorian era. At this time, females were also discouraged from riding bicycles, as the combined activities of straddling the saddle and vigorous pedaling were thought to lead to sexual arousal and masturbatory tendencies in females. Special bicycles were even created that had a depression in the seat to avoid contact with a female’s genital area. Again, the reasoning behind this ridiculous modification was that bicycling would not only arouse women, but that this arousal was immoral and should be prevented.
Though we’d like to think we’ve come a long way since the Victorian era, some ideas concerning sexuality and positive sexual behavior still seem taboo. It was not until 1973, for instance, that homosexuality was no longer classified as a mental illness in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Moreover, as of January 2013, same-sex marriages had only been legalized in 9 states.
This brings up some of the important reasons for having positive attitudes towards sex and sexual practices. Not only does this mindset support equal rights, it advocates for creating spaces for talking about safe sexual practices. Having non-judgmental and open-minded conversations that use inclusive language to discuss sexuality can help people express themselves in ways that are not only enjoyable, but are also safe and respectful of their partners.
So next time you eat a bowl of cereal or ride your bike to campus, maybe consider some of the ways that you can have a more positive attitude towards sexuality. You can also stop by the SHEC office in MUSC if you have any questions, comments or concerns about your own sexual health.
Nicole Jedrzejko
The Silhouette
Whether you’re having it or not, everyone has strong opinions about sex. What it really is, who should be having it, good vs. bad, fears, fantasies, successes and shames. We have left high school, often the first environment where sex becomes a factor in interpersonal communication, and entered the big, new world of university. Suddenly surrounded by thousands of peers with dramatically differing backgrounds and lifestyles, you start to notice changes. For many of us, university is the first time we are granted full autonomy in decision-making, without the usual parental (or other authoritative figure) supervision. Are we prepared to start making these decisions, especially when it comes to sex?
It is tough to summarize sex’s influence in the lives of people within the McMaster community. Unlike University of Toronto or Queen’s, McMaster does not have a sexual health-specific resource and education centre. Our beloved SHEC combines physical, emotional, mental and psychological health issues along with a dedication to sexual health promotion. Unfortunately, SHEC’s association with sex ed has overshadowed many of its other focuses on nutrition, stress, fatigue, body image concerns and more. It is a major concern that many of SHEC’s services are underutilized based on some students’ perception of SHEC as the “sex ed place.” This begs the question: why are many of us so uncomfortable being associated with sex?
The stigmas and judgments surrounding sex are nothing new to us. It is still quite challenging to navigate conversations on sex with our peers in a candid and open manner, especially when our preferences, experiences and knowledge on sex are completely unique and often not discussed. This awkwardness is perpetuated by society’s narrow view that male + female + nothing freaky = the right kind of sex, anything that strays from that = wrong. Then you start realizing the people who are vocal about sex come from a wide spectrum of those who are very active, very opinionated, or even very immature. That leaves the rest to believe their views on sex don’t belong anywhere.
Most of us have been involved in sexual health education for years, ever since that memorable day when we brought home a parental permission form for next week’s reproductive health unit in elementary school. But now that most of us have finished our formal sex ed curriculum from high school health class, our sex questions are often answered via anecdotal evidence from peers or the “trustworthy” World Wide Web. We know we can’t simply organize an info session or discussion group to eliminate the stigmas on sex preventing some of us from accessing accurate sex ed sources. So what can we do to create an environment where peers can view discussions on sex ed as positive, inclusive, non-judgmental and fun? As university students, we represent much of society’s hopes of an open-minded future prepared for change. Personally, I felt the right thing to do was write about it.
Too many people that you know, that you walk by on the way to class, that you sit next to in lecture or on the HSR have struggled with questions and fears regarding sex. It is up to all of us to not only initiate these discussions, but to lead an accepting lifestyle where opening conversation about sex will be met with sensitivity and respect. We all know the stigmas exist, but it takes an effort from all of us to overcome them.
From STIs, birth control, questioning sexuality, virginity, pregnancy, navigating safe sex options, sexual abuse and manipulation, fertility issues, sex ed curriculum changes and more, we’ll be here to provide new information and perspectives on the wild, weird and wonderful world of sex ed. Start thinking.
Carla Brown
SHEC Media
It can be very traumatic to be diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection. You might feel ashamed or angry. These are normal responses, but it’s important to remember that this doesn’t have to change your life significantly. Here are some tips for coping with an STI diagnosis.
If you haven’t seen a doctor to be diagnosed, you should do so immediately. Many STIs are curable, but you won’t know if treatment is an option for you unless you consult a medical professional.
Even for infections that can’t be cured, like herpes or HPV, measures can be taken to prevent transmission and reduce pain.
Testing can be done on campus at the Student Wellness Centre, or at a number of sexual health clinics run by Hamilton Public Health.
The schedule and location of these clinics can be found at Hamilton.ca (go to Public Health and Social Services, then to Sexual Health and, finally, to Sexual Health Clinics).
You should be aware that some STIs, namely HIV, syphilis and gonorrhea, must be reported by your doctor to the Hamilton Public Health department.
You will also be required by law to provide the names of your previous sexual partners so that they can be anonymously notified if you choose not to notify them yourself.
If you’ve been diagnosed, it’s easy to want to blame yourself or someone else. But blame isn’t a productive response.
Some STIs can be dormant before they show symptoms, so it can be difficult to know what sexual encounter resulted in transmission.
Getting an STI from your partner isn’t necessarily a sign that they have been unfaithful; one of you could have been infected by a previous partner.
Having an STI does not define who you are, and is generally not an intentional fault.
They are very common, and they don’t mean that you’ve been sexually promiscuous (not that there’s anything wrong with that either).
It might feel like it sometimes, but having an STI does not mean that your love life is over. Many people find happy relationships after being diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection.
But it is important to share this information about your health with any potential sex partners.
Some infections, like herpes and HPV, can be spread by skin-to-skin contact, even when you’re wearing a condom.
It might be helpful to have a rehearsed script when talking to potential partners in case you get nervous.
It is better to tell partners before a sexual encounter so they can make informed decisions about their own health. This gives people an opportunity to share their sexual history in return.
Many STIs are so common that your partner probably won’t be surprised or uncomfortable. And sex is much better when you’re both honest with each other.
You might find it helpful to do some research about the STI you have. When you first see the doctor, they might not have a lot of time to explain your infection to you.
In addition, many doctors aren’t experienced with sexual health and may not be familiar with new advances in treatment protocols or the odds of transmission.
Doing some background research will help you to understand what your doctor is saying and be able to ask the right questions.
Being an active participant in your healthcare can prevent you from feeling helpless with respect to your sexual health. Some helpful resources about STIs can be found online at cdc.gov/std or in the Student Health Education Centre (SHEC) on campus.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed by your diagnosis, or having trouble processing feelings of guilt, resentment or hopelessness, you should consider seeing a counsellor at the Student Wellness Centre to talk about your feelings; keeping everything bottled up will only cause problems in the long run.
The Skin I Live In
Directed by: Pedro Almodovar
Starring: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya
3 out of 5 stars
Myles Herod
Entertainment Editor
Spain’s Pedro Almodóvar could not make a boring picture if he tried. Equally lauded and chastised – sometimes for the same film – his distinctive oeuvre illustrates a man seduced by suggestive sexuality and evocative colours. The movie camera, to him, hides nothing.
Truthfully speaking, The Skin I Live In left me speechless. Call it uncomfortable, ashamed, whatever – I sat at the screen startled, and yet, strangely delighted. In many ways, Skin represents Almodóvar at his most demented and transgressive, breaking loose from two pictures of prestige and world recognition, Talk to Her and Volver.
Cinema history is littered with the remains of mad scientists driven by desire, or damned with the consequences of their perverted souls. Breaching the bounds of pathological decency, The Skin I Live In adapts Thierry Jonquet’s lurid novel Tarantula, a tale of revenge, gender identity and unbridled power.
Channeling his best Cary Grant, Antonio Banderas stars as Robert Ledgard, a suave plastic surgeon whose heavy brow seems apt for obsession. Situated in an immaculate clinic in suburban Toledo, the doctor broods over personal tragedy as he deliberately constructs beauty onto a kidnapped body.
The darkly alluring Elena Anaya plays Vera Cruz, Robert’s young prisoner and plaything, a mysterious woman whose skin is experimentally replaced patch by patch. Alone, and encased in a fetishistic body sheath, Vera practices yoga to the knowing surveillance of the doctor and his elderly housemaid, Marilia.
From the beginning, Almodóvar lets us know something odd is afoot. He manufactures a film so vividly rich and baroque in imagery that its style alone leaves one curiously transfixed.
One of the other chief pleasures of The Skin I Live In is its concoction of operatic emotions and a serpentine screenplay. It is a story that slowly teases with its mysteries, flashbacks and violence that climax in horrific fashion and spinning sexual intrigue.
Although the film’s touchstones are more aligned with two specific influences – Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face and James Whale’s Frankenstein, Almodóvar also ventures further afield to David Cronenberg territory, constructing a kinky, body-horror thriller.
Banderas, working with Almódovar for the first time since 1990’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, gives a deceptively charismatic performance, imbuing Ledgard with a debonair facade and undertone of menace. Even while Ledgard’s medical colleagues disapprove of his experiments with synthetic skin and forced operations, his secretive work continues as the film compels us to review the context of his God complex.
Elena Ayana’s role is even trickier, since we know little about Vera other than her dislike for feminine garments. The film does not play her as a victim, though. Instead, she comes to participate in Ledgard’s strange experiments and intimate desires, gradually disclosing her history and state of mind.
Few directors have the skill at swerving from confident camp to overwhelming chills like this. Though the film ranks as slightly frivolous in Almodóvar’s cannon, it contains enough carnal nourishment and melodrama to keep one glued until its outrageous third act.
By then, The Skin I Live In has fully embraced its wayward weirdness, declaring itself tragic, devilish and, yes, even a tad silly.
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Is there something wrong with me?
By: Margo Singleton
As a virgin, I have no shame in admitting that I have countlessly Googled “how to know when you’re ready for sex.” The fact that I’m Googling it clearly suggests that I’m not ready, yet I continue to take every Cosmopolitan quiz just to be sure. I wouldn’t be so concerned about my virginity if I were completely single, but as it turns out, my relationship status sports the “it’s complicated” label on Facebook.
My man and I are at a crossroad within our sex life. He desperately wants that homerun, while I’d much rather stay at third base. The amount of pressure I feel regarding the loss of my virginity is so overwhelming that I attempt to push aside all thoughts of it. For most others my age, this event has come and gone with little thought. When I hear other people’s stories, I can’t help but wonder, is there something wrong with me?
Those of whom I ask to provide me with advice simply say, “you’ll know when you’re ready”, but I’m not so sure that I will. There are many issues I have with losing my virginity, especially to this particular man. For the most part, the idea of potentially getting pregnant is enough to make me sew my vagina shut and prevent my legs from opening past a 20-degree angle. In that case, I’d have to take birth control, which does not personally appeal to me. Then there’s the decision of lube, condoms, location, and whether or not a date should be chosen. Although these are all necessary decisions to make prior to the big bang, I think my inability to feel ready for sex stems beyond these minor technicalities.
Will we have to have sex every time we hang out? What if he’s just with me because of the sex? Will I be okay if things don’t work out with him? Does he love me? Or more importantly, do I love him? By speculating about the answer to these questions, it may appear as if my boy toy and I haven’t had a proper discussion about sex, but we’ve had multiple. He’s promised to wait until I’m ready (which for him means asking “so can we?” every time we get down and dirty), but refuses to say we’re in a relationship until we do the deed. It is for this reason that I struggle with feeling ready to have sex with him. I shouldn’t have to satisfy him through intercourse to be seen worthy enough to get into a relationship with and even though I realize that, here I am. With five years under our belt, I truly want to believe that he sees more to this relationship than just potential sex. But wanting to believe it emphasizes the doubt that lingers. If we were to have sex in the near future, I wouldn’t be doing it for my own satisfaction. I’d be doing it to satisfy his needs, to make him not leave me again, and to finally be worthy enough to be in an unhealthy relationship with.
Sex shouldn’t be a requirement to be in a relationship and yet it seems to have become one. As a 20-year-old university student, it often feels like I’m the only one not having sex, which is why I usually don’t discuss my situation with friends. It wasn’t until this year when I started sharing my dilemma with others that I realized I’m not alone; there are other virgins who also feel pressured to define their worth through sex. If there’s anything I can take away from my love life, it’s that the decision to lose your virginity shouldn’t only include coming prepared with an effective form of birth control. There’s more to sex than just doing it with safety, you should want to have sex and do it under pressure-free circumstances that are right for you. After all, I’ve heard your first time is an experience few tend to forget, and even if it doesn’t go as planned, the least I can do is make sure I was more than ready.
Casual hookups aren’t for everyone
By: Ingrid Sampath
I come from a long line of late bloomers. Me, my sibling, those that came before us, we all took our sweet time when it came to settling into our sexuality. I’ve surrounded myself with fellow lead-footed florets my whole life, and up until recently, my slow-moving sex life has never caused problems for me.
My slowness is something I’ve always been comfortable with. I hadn’t kissed a boy until I was 18, hadn’t spent the night with someone until I was 21, but even with my general comfort in these numbers, and my box-ticking pretty much complete, I still felt like there were a lot of things I hadn’t properly experienced.
Anytime I was faced with the prospect of a relationship, I had the perfectly normal expectation that we would go out with one another for several months, make each other mix tapes (read: Spotify playlists), kiss in the rain a few times and then all of a sudden it would explode into a burst of sparkles, roses and orgasms. But more often than not, this simply never became a reality.
I tried my fair share of “relationships,” and most of them ended with my counterpart being dissatisfied with my rate of movement, and consequently dumping me before some major holiday.
I started to think that to have a twenty-first century romance I needed to discard my nineteenth century expectations and buckle down for a hard ride (pun somewhat intended) with fuck boys and Netflix and chill. I decided that I was tired of waiting for the “right” person to come along and instead I started settling for the next person to come along. Rather, the next people to come along.
Almost overnight I went from my contented slow-motion blossoming to what I thought would be a rapid sexual awakening that would turn me into a believer of casual sex and a true twenty-first century dater.
This was not an effective plan.
Quickly into my short string of conquests, I realized that I didn’t enjoy the nature of casual hookups. Anytime I met with someone, I was left feeling empty and dissatisfied, longing for the fireworks that I dreamt of. I don’t regret my decision to trial this lifestyle — I will admit, it was still a lot of fun — but after experiencing it, I learned something important.
Some people just do things slower, and that is OK. I’ve had countless conversations with friends who feel insecure about their lack of or minor experience, and it pains me to hear them say they feel the need to lower their standards or reduce their values just so they can have something more to show for their next partner.
Sometimes it feels like everyone is hooking up with everyone and you’re left trapped behind a hymen, but it’s OK to take your time if that’s what you want to do. You might be late to the party, but you’re nowhere near last call.
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If you are a human on this planet and are currently alive, you have heard about the novel Fifty Shades of Grey. The book — which featured a woman discovering kinky sex through her rich and emotionally constipated boyfriend — sparked controversy over whether a relationship that included kink could ever be considered healthy. It’s debatable whether the story can even be classified as BDSM (a better label for it would have been eroticized abuse), but here’s the thing, vanilla relationships, a.k.a. “conventional” ones, have a lot to learn from BDSM practices.
So what is BDSM exactly? People dressed in latex and leather? Whips and chains? Tortured souls like Mr. Grey trying to sexually work through their childhood trauma? An exact definition is a little hard to pin down. The acronym stands for bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism, which covers a lot of ground but doesn’t really express the diversity of the scene, which is greatly shaped by your own personal preferences. Not everyone who is interested in BDSM is “damaged” or broken because of their tastes, nor is all BDSM about pain. Just because you like one aspect of BDSM doesn’t mean you don’t have limits, and while sometimes odd, it is not inherently abusive. Just like other relationships, BDSM is shaped by the people who practice it, not solely by the type of sex that one or both partners enjoy.
How does BDSM different from assault you ask? Explicit consent.
Due to the nature of kinky sex, you need to set out very clear parameters with your partner ahead of time. For example, how are you going to communicate if one person is gagged? What word ends the game when one partner is pretending to struggle? When should people check in about how they are feeling during or after a “scene”? All of these factors need to be decided well in advance, often with a detailed checklist or a long conversation.
This does not mean that we should give all BDSM practices a get out jail (or dungeon) free card. I should emphasize that not all BDSM is inherently benign. Many people get defensive when it comes to their kinks, which makes sense. Sex is personal, and when someone points out that your personal life is problematic I can see how your knee jerk reaction is to defend yourself. However, this doesn’t mean we can dismiss all criticism as “kink shaming.” For example, no matter who you are or how you express your sexuality, if you fantasize about rape I am going to be wary around you, no matter if you engage in safe roleplaying or not. I get that people often can’t help the fantasies that they are interested in or intrigued by, but this doesn’t mean that they don’t have real world ramifications. Our tastes do not exist in a vacuum, and we need to constantly be asking ourselves where they come from and how they affect our interpersonal relationships.
Often with vanilla sex there is an unspoken agreement that both partners are going to remain within “normal” and expected parameters, but nowhere along the way is “normal” defined.
What healthy BDSM does well is facilitate a negotiation about our preferences. Often with vanilla sex there is an unspoken agreement that both partners are going to remain within “normal” and expected parameters, but nowhere along the way is “normal” defined. One person’s normal could be another person’s no-thank-you. There is no conventional conversation process which could help avoid uncomfortable or dangerous situations. Questions like, “what form of birth control will we be using?” or “is there any part of your body you would prefer I didn’t touch?” will make your partner — and your sex life — more comfortable. I swear, it is not as unsexy as it sounds. Talking through sex before you have it can be exciting, and the sex itself will be better if you don’t feel like you are trying to find what makes your partner tick the same way you would a light switch in the dark.
Therefore, instead of thinking of BDSM as something freakish and unhealthy, let’s instead view it as a process. Let’s adopt the framework that comes with unconventional sex and bring it into our clandestine sex lives, because nothing but good can come from open conversation. Don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because your sex life doesn’t involve electric shocks or boot licking that you don’t need to talk about it.
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By: Nina Gaind
Dream a wet dream of me…
Thinking about your crush before you fall asleep might not be the only way to have an imaginary pleasure-filled night. Falling asleep facedown on your stomach with your arms stretched above your head can increase the chances of having a sex dream. Sleep tight McMaster… or sleep loose…
The miracle drug
One type of OCD medication can cause orgasms when people yawn. That’s a mouthful!
Motown marriage vows
According to a report from the National Marriage Project, one third of married couples sprouted from casual hookups. Sounds more like a 10-year night stand.
International Man of Mystery
During the first World War, members of the British Secret Intelligence Service found that semen could be used as invisible ink. Very groovy, baby.
Driving Miss Daisy
Besides the bedroom, the most popular place to have sex is the car. Get excited the next time you get in your partner’s car. Vroom vroom…
Talk dirty to me
Women are more easily able to manipulate their voice to sound more attractive, but men can’t. When a girl lowers her voice and tries to sound sexy, it is a signal that she is interested in a potential mate, a clue that men pick up on.
Going the distance
Your partner is in China and you’re in Hamilton, what do you do? Luckily, there’s now a sex toy company that allows your partner and you to operate your vibrators at the same time from across the world using a mobile app. Thank god for modern day technology.
The Great Sex-ession
During the recession, the sex toy industry was booming due to the fact that young people were dealing with a lot of stress. When in doubt, vibrate it out!
Free Willy
The male bottlenose dolphin has a couple masturbation tricks up its… flipper. For pleasure, it wraps a live wriggling eel around its penis. That’s one way to save money.
My 7 billion siblings and I
The amount of sperm in one man is enough to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet. One hell of a baby daddy.
Ride my bicycle
Calling all male cyclists! The pressure of your bicycle seat on your groin can permanently damage the vital nerves leading to your penis, resulting in erectile dysfunction. Save your boner, buy a longboard?
Pumpkin spice up your life
Not just for teenyboppers in the fall, but the smell of pumpkin has been shown to significantly increase blood flow to the penis. Would you like whipped cream with that?
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By: Barbara Anang
Some girls dream of financial independence, others dream of academic pursuits. And some girls, like me, dream of falling into the arms of a wealthy gentleman and having their every whim come true. This dream of a wealthy gentleman can be a reality for many college students, male or female, but venturing into the world of sugaring (sugar babies and sugar daddies) raises questions of morality. Are you an escort? A companion? Have you sold your soul for a little or a lot of financial relief? What constitutes a sugar baby and sugar daddy relationship, and what do you do when sugar turns to salt? The sugar culture is one that has reached Hamilton, but with a tangier taste than most of its participants desire.
Map of the candy factory
A sugar daddy refers to a wealthy men who can afford to pay the price for an attractive companion or “arm candy.” These “daddies” treat their ladies to the finest that life can offer. They make promises to spoil them in exchange for just a few days of their time each month. Other daddies promise trips with all expenses paid, claiming all that they want is someone to spend time with them while they’re away from home. These are sugar-babies who do not sleep with their sugar daddies. Daddies in these situations say that intimacy isn’t expected, but of course is desired — that’s how a mutually beneficial relationship works, right? Having a sugar relationship isn’t for everyone, but if you know what you’re looking for and can come to an agreement, the relationship can be one that is actually positive for both parties.
When you look at websites geared to sugar babies, daddies and mamas, many local profiles state they do not want a stripper or a professional (to put it bluntly, no prostitution or solicitation is allowed). But the reality in the Steel City is that many of these men are actually salt daddies. They present themselves on websites as having wealth, they claim they are willing to negotiate an allowance and help with bills and expenses, but what they’re really looking for is an affair or paid sex with the “girl next door.”
Now that’s not to say that there aren’t sugar babies who are still able to reap the rewards of having a benefactor. With many salt daddies slipping through the cracks, it takes a keen eye to find the right situation that works for you.
Dear Old Salt Daddy
My personal experience as a wannabe sugar baby, was unfortunately more sour than sweet. Not only was it not financially rewarding, it caused me to question my worth in the eyes of men, the poor and rich alike. I don’t have the “western standard of beauty” and that wasn’t a problem when it came to attracting a “potential.” The issue for me was the fetishization of my identity. I shared my thoughts with an acquaintance and they said, “What did you expect?” The reality is men objectify you, and that’s why you’re there. I suppose I just expected that rich men would want to take me out to charity events, the theatre and classy places I can’t normally afford. I forgot that I have the aesthetic that raises eyebrows when I walk into a room with a middle-aged wealthy man. Since the men in the Steel City are actually salt daddies, they’re looking for someone who won’t draw too much attention and cause whispers and raised eyebrows. Salt daddies aren’t really looking to spoil you; they want to pay you a stipend for your use. They might want to dominate you or they might want to be dominated. Either way, the slick ones will make you forget that you hold the power. You’re the one who can choose to back out.
Getting into the sugar game
After experiencing the pitfalls of getting into a situation that was candy-coated, I have some pointers on how to make sure you’re getting the relationship you want. A great option for wannabe sugars babies is to freestyle. What this means is you rely on “chance” to meet a potential by frequenting places where wealthy men go. Upscale bars, charity galas and sporting events are great examples of where you may find your potential. How do you make a connection like that? Older gentlemen don’t often expect the attention of younger women so once they find out they’ve caught your eye, if they’re interested, they’ll approach you and buy you a drink. Sometimes you’ll have to make the first move. If this is the case, the most effective thing to do is to hand him your business card with a legitimate or made-up occupation and he’ll call if interested. After that, it’s up to you to set the terms of your arrangement.
If being a sugar baby is considered working in the sex industry (and to some there’s no doubt that it is), some could argue that it is empowering — women dictating their own terms and benefiting from their charms. There are women who might argue that there’s nothing wrong with dating someone wealthy, and likely older, because it is much more fulfilling than dating someone their own age and ending up with a broken heart. Another group of women might say that it’s degrading and women are selling their bodies to the highest bidder. It’s simply a matter of perspective.
Overall I didn’t have a terrible experience. I went to dinner, had drinks and wonderful conversations until I realized that these men couldn’t afford my company and having sex with them was definitely out of the question (a wise friend once told me, “pussy sells for thousands”). I would definitely try it again, but probably somewhere in Europe or the USA where the sugar culture is much larger and an industry in and of itself. Being paid enough to forgo student loans and a part-time job still sounds wonderful, but maybe it’s time for me to try my hand at being a financial dominatrix instead.
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By: Victoria Marks
When I first heard the term “demisexual” I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I wasn’t an anomaly, I was a perfectly normal human being just like countless others. Then I cried.
I’ve only been attracted to, and wanted to have sex with, a grand total of four people in my entire life. I can objectively evaluate a person, look at them and say, “yes, their facial symmetry and manner of dress is appealing”, but it won’t mean I’m interested in sleeping with them. I’m what is called a demisexual, which is an identity on the asexual spectrum. Asexuality is both an identity and an umbrella term for someone who does not experience sexual attraction. It is not an orientation — meaning that you can be heterosexual or homosexual without being “sexual” at all — and, according to studies, our best guess is that 1% of the population is “ace” (though since asexual people are not typically open about their sex lives — or lack thereof — there is a chance that number is much higher).
Asexuality is different from being celibate or chaste. Asexuals are not abstaining from something they want, instead the want was never there in the first place. Being asexual doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you, and it certainly doesn’t mean you are sick or damaged.
Sexuality is a spectrum. Much like being hetero or homosexual, think of it as a scale, with most people existing somewhere from one end to the other. The label I found that best describes me is “demisexual”, meaning that I very rarely experience sexual attraction, but when I do it is because of a personal and emotional connection with the object of my affections. Outside of being attracted to a select few individuals, I don’t want to have sex. Often times my libido goes entirely dormant when there isn’t someone I’m attracted to in my life (which is most of the time). Usually I’m not attracted to anyone until I’ve known them and grown close to them over months, or sometimes years.
While labels can be incredibly comforting, they can also feel like a burden. Solving the mystery of my jack-in-the-box libido meant that I had to come to terms with the future of my sex life, which, to be honest, looks pretty bleak. I often worry that I’ve “used up” all my sexual attraction on people who didn’t deserve or reciprocate my affection during my teenage years.
I can never have gratifying casual sex, which seems to be everywhere when you can’t have any. I have to explain to every new partner that I may never want to have sex with them and I’ve been accused of not caring for someone because sexual attraction doesn’t magically appear alongside non-sexual affection. I often feel like my relationships are missing something without sex in them, since almost all relationships I see around me — fictional and non-fictional — involve sex. The only mainstream media representation of asexuality I can think of is a House episode where the patient has a brain tumor suppressing his sexuality. Watching relationships develop on television or in fiction is often an exercise in feeling like I can’t relate, while desperately wishing I could.
Asexuals are not abstaining from something they want, instead the want was never there in the first place.
Labels can be great. They make you feel like you are not alone. They can establish communities and help you advocate for yourself. The visibility of the ace community has helped a lot of people understand themselves and come to terms with themselves, but the message that is often missed when trying to explain ourselves to sexual people is how alienating and difficult it can be to come to terms with being ace. To those who think they might be asexual, I want to say that it is alright to be frustrated and confused.
There is a lot of pressure in asexual communities towards self-acceptance — which is brilliant and as it should be — but I’ve spent so much time worrying about why I don’t feel fine that I think it is time for us to say that it’s ok to not be ok. I’m demi-sexual and proud, but not necessarily happy about it. And that is alright.
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By: Susie Ellis
The Everything To Do with Sex Show is an annual convention held at the Enercare Centre located downtown Toronto. The convention is very much the Comic Con of the sex world and has included many different types of attractions. The main floor is filled with multiple stages for performances, as well as vendors who offer services and products to meet all attendees’ sex and kink needs. The floor is also equipped with an Aphrodisiac Cafe and various food trucks for hungry guests. The show offers many seminars and workshops focusing on a variety of subjects. Attendees can learn how to use a strap-on in the Kink Corner or get educated on the “12 Types of Orgasms” in the Seminar Room. The show also features a Wellness Zone (for options on spicing up your workout) and an Erotic Art Area. The Everything To Do with Sex Show offers a safe space to learn and explore the different facets of romance, sexuality, and self-improvement. This show is the best place to let your imagination run wild and learn exciting new things.
The Playground Conference is Toronto’s only intersectional, sex-positive and educational social function. The event, once held as a weekend conference, has been split into quarterly sessions for 2016 (exact dates TBA). The conference features local and international sex and sexuality educators who engage participants in panel discussions, intimate workshops and presentations. In 2015, the conference brought over 310 attendees from various backgrounds, races, genders and sexualities. Playground allows for like¬minded individuals to have an open discussion about how sexual and erotic play can help enhance health and wellbeing. All of the events are not only educational but also bring an aspect of entertainment. Playground is more intimate than the Everything To Do with Sex Show and focuses more on specific (sometimes underrepresented) areas of sex and sexuality.
Tell Me Something Good — 1214 Queen Street West, Toronto
Tell Me Something Good is a monthly sexy storytelling event held downtown Toronto at the Gladstone Hotel’s Melody Bar. The show allows for attendees to volunteer to tell their own true personal stories in front of a group of sex-positive friends as well as the judges of the event. These stories can be funny, sad, unexpected or adorable, as long as they stick to the theme of the month and are under the time limit of five minutes. At the end of the night, the judges tally the scores and award the best stories with sexy prizes. A part of what makes TMSG a must-attend event is the inclusive community. Even though the event is judged, there’s no sense of competition amongst the performers. The thought of telling a group of strangers about your sex life might seem scary, but because all the events attendees are sex-positive and non-oppressive, it creates a safe space to voice your vulnerabilities.
If you are looking to change your perspective on your body and step out of your comfort zone in the company of other like-minded, body positive individuals, then Body Pride is an event you may be interested in. Body Pride is a nude body image workshop created by Toronto-based sexuality blog To Be A Slut. The workshop was designed to reconnect participants with their body in a positive manner. There are wine and snacks provided as participants have an evening of relaxing naked together. There is group discussion around sexuality, sex and bodies, followed by an optional nude photo shoot. Although being nude (non-sexually) around strangers might not be for the faint of heart, the workshop provides a space to let go of all negative feelings about one’s physical form and to gain a new natural perspective on our bodies. Body Pride is currently on hiatus with hopes of returning later in the year.
Oasis Aqualounge — 231 Mutual Street, Toronto
Oasis Aqualounge is for the more adventurous of sex-positive people. It is a water-themed, upscale sex club in downtown Toronto which offers various theme nights every month. Each day there are restrictions on what types of guests are allowed. Some nights are exclusive to women and couples while others allow for single men to join in on the fun. Sunday nights are their speciality event nights. The building has three floors, including a heated outdoor pool, a sauna and hot tub. There is also a dungeon and multiple bars around the facility. Oasis operates under a consensual mission to provide a sexually liberated and clothing optional space to women and their partners. The facility is hygienic and safe sex is encouraged through condom baskets in every room. If interested in meeting people to pursue sexual encounters, guests can freely talk to anyone in attendance, but must only ask once to touch other guests. Oasis offers a unique space to find like-minded individuals and to explore one’s body in a sexual, safe manner.
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