Tongue Tied: Untangling Communication in Sex, Kink, and Relationships

March 9th, 2019

Tongue Tied: Untangling Communication in Sex, Kink, and Relationships
$10 Kindle/%15 physical from Amazon

I wasn’t intending to read Tongue Tied initially. I was previously unfamiliar with Stella Harris (who I now know is an experienced sex educator and coach as well as an erotica writer) and, perhaps more importantly, felt pretty familiar with communicating about sex. I’ve frequently read about the topic. I’ve argued that we need to talk more about sex and do it in a healthy way that isn’t inherently sex-negative. Hell, I’ve written about talking about sex and provided instructions for readers to do so. Tongue Tied, therefore, seemed a bit old hat.

But I heard Stella on American Sex, and she made a few points that resonated with me enough to change my mind. Soon after, I had a digital copy of the book, and it wasn’t much longer after that I had finished it. Unlike, say, BDSM: A Guide for Explorers of Extreme Eroticism, Tongue Tied isn’t a huge book, and it’s a pretty easy read. Of course, you can pick and choose what you read in Tongue Tied to save a little time and effort, but reading the whole thing gives you a better impression of not just how to communicate but what you need to do so.

Right from the introduction, Ms. Harris draws on her experience as a sex coach, explaining that her most frequently received questions about sex involved communication, even if the people asking those questions were unaware of that fact. A quick look at r/sex on Reddit shows that most people need to talk to their partners to resolve issues in the bedroom, so many people realize this. When our mouths are closed shut about sex, people learn the wrong — and sometimes dangerous — things from less-than-reputable sources. We need to talk about sex. However, like most things, it’s easier said than done.

Initially, I didn’t expect a book on communicating about sex to cover so much non-communication issues. But it’s true that one of the main inhibitors of talking about sex is the way people think about sex. From the very start, the author proposes that every person is responsible for themselves and the way they behave in relationships. She dedicates the entire first chapter to the goal of sexual communication (healthy relationships with boundaries and goals regardless of the specific arrangement of those relationships). In this chapter she addresses how it’s easier to talk about sex when you make a habit of it from the getgo but also how sometimes these discussions are uncomfortable, and that’s okay.

From here, she follows a chapter detailing the common mistakes when communication. Knowing what not to do when talking about sex is as important as knowing what to do. Ms. Harris writes about common mistakes include being selfish, not speaking up about what you want, assuming there’s such a thing as normal, and others. She also advises the reader to check their cultural biases and not to make assumptions or to lie about pleasure and orgasm (ie faking it).

The third chapter reveals how differently we can each define things as common as “sex”. This encourages clarity, specificity and positivity. The chapter ends with a quick anatomy lesson.

If you’re familiar with all these ideas, you might skip ahead to the next chapter, wherein Ms. Harris gets to the specifics of talking about sex, starting with when to do have conversations. I especially appreciated how she guides the reader through talking to friends as a form of support and when people should reach out for professional help to deal with their relationship and sex issues.

Readers who are struggling to define what they want would benefit from the chapter six in which Stella encourages readers to examine their future “perfect” sex lives and presents them with tools such as a Yes/No/Maybe list and a “Sensation Exercise.” It’s not the first time when she suggests tools that originated within the kink community for discussion “vanilla” sex nor the last. Throughout her book, Ms. Harris encourages explicit and practical communication in these ways.

The goal of these exercises is to encourage readers to explore their sexuality and find scenes that represent their desires and interests. This is the last chapter that focuses on setting the foundation for talking about sex.

The chapter that follows is one that provides examples of what to say to your sexual partners. Chapter 6 is where you’ll want to start if you have a good foundation for talking about sex but you just need to know what to say.

There’s some typical advice such as using “I” statements, and Stella suggests questions and exercises that reminded me a bit of sensate focus. The goal, at least, is the same: to learn more about your partner’s body and reactions. She stresses remaining positive, listening without judgment, and the word “No.” There are plenty of examples of exactly what to say that will benefit readers who just aren’t sure what words to use. Chapter 6 is the meat and potatoes of the book and perhaps the longest as well.

In the vein of sensate focus or practicing using a safe word, the next chapter details exercises to get readers used to communicating about sex including giving feedback, asking questions, and communicating without words. No book about communication would be complete without information about body language and nonverbal communication, so I was glad to see it included.

There are types of people who I would imagine find these activities silly, the type whom I suspect need more than a single book to fine tune their attitudes about sex, relationships, and communication. If readers don’t already agree with much of the author’s point of view, they’ll struggle to get much out of the book, I think. Arguably, most people reading a book about talking about sex are at least open to new points of view, but some people will struggle to learn from this book.

Others may find the exercises fun or sexy. But they’re useful if you go into them willing to experience and learn. I imagine readers might use these tools with new partners or over the long run to improve communication and understanding of themselves. Among the tools suggested are methods of tracking arousal, which is especially important to women, and using sex toys with partners. I’m so glad to see that included in these pages.

Incorporated into the book is a (short) chapter on talking about safer sex specifically, an important topic and one that may happen in the confines of a casual encounter with a stranger versus a longterm partner.

I appreciate that Ms. Harris walks us through apologizing and accepting an apology as part of her next chapter about difficult discussions, which also tackled fighting, mismatched desire, admitting a lie, and breaking up.

Chapter 11 had the potential to be one of the most useful in the book. The author lists examples of phrases to use in particular scenarios. However, she goes from examples to anecdotes involving past clients. From here, it seems that Stella becomes much less specific, illustrating fewer examples of how to speak about specific issues. This is especially noticeable when she talks about kink in the next chapter, and the section seems brusque. It’s not that phrases exemplified previously in the book can’t be used for these things. I just think a book that walks you through talking about sex benefits from specificity. Sometimes people know they need to talk about sex have all the right attitudes and goals but don’t know exactly what to say.

Communicating in a healthy manner can feel awkward and stilted to a person who hasn’t done a lot of explicit communication. The more examples, the better. Yet examples seemed sparse the further I got into Tongue Tied. It may not have been as noticeable if the author hadn’t done such a good job providing them in other parts of the book. But it was frustrating as I read on.

I am not sure if Ms. Harris was rushing to complete, felt that expanding on certain topics was too niche or would make the book too long, thought that specific examples weren’t necessary, or had another reason for her change. Unfortunately, this seeming lapse meant the end of the book was a bit of a letdown for me, and that the information on kink isn’t presented as usefully as information from previous chapters, especially chapter six. the final chapter — one self-care — made little impression on me because of my frustration.

This doesn’t mean there isn’t useful information in Tongue Tied, just that it didn’t quite reach its potential. This could be remedied in following editions or, less ideally, perhaps with a sort of companion workbook. But it’s a shame because Stella Harris writes in an approachable way, the book is easy to digest, and the topic is so important.

On a final note, Tongue Tied is gender neutral, a point that Ms. Stella makes on purpose and addresses early on. This should make it welcome to people regardless of the gender configuration of their sexual relationships.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Buzz: The Stimulating History of the Sex Toy

December 20th, 2018

Buzz: The Stimulating History of the Sex Toy starts with an introduction to home sex toy parties and the author’s own history as a salesperson. We learn firsthand how she was taught to push toys to bored housewives despite the very act being illegal in so many places. In her introduction, Hallie explains to the reader how she always had an interest in sex toys. And while she could no longer support companies that mislead their customers, her curiosity continued — enough to write the history of sex toys.
She continues on with the ancient history of sex toys (there are some photos of ancient devices and early sex toy ads included), which may be older than you think, and continues to bust some oft-touted stories about sex toys. Pop culture doesn’t always get it right, and our author wants us to know better.
In Buzz, the reader learns about the competing factions that helped to legitimize or, at least, make saleable sex toys. This includes seedy porn store operators, dedicated toy makers, feminists (both those for and against sex toys, especially dildos), mom-and-pop shops, and mega-corporations. Lieberman attempts to illustrate these forces while clearing supporting/promoting the feminist-run stores, a point-of-view I also agree with.
As readers, we learn about original stores such as The Pleasure Chest and Eve’s Garden. We discover the history of Good Vibes, Babeland, and masturbation month and feminists such as Joani Blank, Betty Dodson, Claire Cavanah, Del Williams, Susie Bright, and more who fought for sex toys and a woman’s sexual autonomy. Buzz discusses how seedy businessmen will always be businessmen, even while paying million-dollar fines and sitting in jail. The reader also has a chance to learn how far back the practice of using sex toys goes and how able-bodied people were able to experience sex toys due in part to their marketing as devices for people who were disabled.
Two other opposing forces that the author does a great job at depicting is how sex does indeed sell and how the American public and government railed against sex toys for so long. Lieberman lists case after historical case against sex toys. It’s amazing that any of the smaller stores or chains managed to stay in business while they were fighting the law and competing with unscrupulous competitors.
However, by trying to tackle every angle in Buzz, Lieberman has produced a book that is sometimes confusing and frazzled. These opposing forces are working simultaneously but the retelling is not quite as skillful as I would have liked.
For example, the author illustrates how important sex toys were as a way for women to revolt and yet how divisive toys were among feminists. Lieberman also dedicates time to discussing Friedan and Dodson, and while these women influence feminism and female sexuality greatly, this section seems to veer away from the topic (less time may have been spent on the biggest online retailer: Adam & Eve). Yet, we’re thrust back into it (no pun intended) with force when she introduces Ron Sturman, the founder of Doc Johnson and owner of numerous sex toy stores and distribution centers.
A large chunk of Buzz is dedicated to Doc Johnson, Sturman, his many business associates (including Ron Braverman) and the sordid history involved. It’s fascinating (and I have no idea how I didn’t come across more of this information/history before) but, at times, this book seems more like a history of that drama than an overall history of sex toys. Although the author does frame each chapter with a message about the progression of sex toys through the eras, it’s easy to forget that Buzz is not a book about Doc Johnson specifically; although, I suspect there’s enough history there that one could be written.
While Lieberman spends so much time on the Sturman era, much less time is dedicated to changes in sex toy culture in the 1990s and beyond. I suppose it may be too soon to write about the more recent drama, which I’ve experienced as a sex toy reviewer in the last decade, but it seems remiss for the author not to mention that Good Vibes bought out Babeland while referencing other sex toy news from 2017.
The author may have simply published this book too soon to mention smart sex toys and other advancements in sex tech, but there have been a lot of changes over the last few years that I would love to see chronicled. I suppose that will have to wait until the sequel.
Toward the end, Hallie writes perhaps the most forgiving description of Fifty Shades that I’ve ever heard while quickly (phew!) following it up with a warning that the sex toys used within those pages and sold and merchandise are acceptable because they still focus on sex toys as devices for couples to use and a woman’s sexuality as under the control of a man. The reader is reminded that all the progress we’ve made as a sexual society is impeded still.
Ms. Lieberman ends her book with a reminder that sex toys are important and not shameful, that we should not still feel ashamed about using or selling them, and they she personally will not be shamed. It’s a strong ending after a somewhat shaky middle.
Lieberman’s voice is the strongest and possesses the most clarity when she’s making those impassioned pleas. And I would have been thrilled to read a manifesto by Lieberman that lauded significance of sex toys when it comes to a woman’s autonomy and independence while highlighting the ways that sex toys remain unaccepted and in some jurisdictions illegal.
But Buzz is not that book. The strengths of Lieberman’s voice become lost in the making of this historical tome. Lieberman is not a bad writer, she simply attempted to write the wrong type of book. As a writer myself, I empathize. I, too, I’ve tried my hand at types of writing only to realize that they were not my forte. So while I look forward to what she might write in the future. I am not sure that Buzz is the strongest example of her talent.
With that said, I would recommend this book if you’re interested in the sordid history of Doc Johnson, the way that feminist leaders such as Dodson helped politicize sex toys, and the antics of at-home sexually parties. I plan on reading a similar book titled Vibrator Nation and posting my review of that here to compare with Buzz. Perhaps that book will garner my recommendation, but until now, I’m glad that I did read this book.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Make love to your long distance lover online

A Lover’s Pinch: A Cultural History of Sadomasochism

December 15th, 2018

A Lover's Pinch: A Cultural History of Sadomasochism
%18.70 (Kindle) from Amazon

Although there are many books about S&M, most of them focus on the erotic or instructional. This isn’t the case with A Lover’s Pinch: A Cultural History of Sadomasochism, a book by kinkster Peter Tupper. This means that A Lover’s Pinch fills a void, and it dives to depths I couldn’t have imagined before I started reading.

A Lover’s Pinch is a deep dive that goes far beyond Leopold von Sacher-Masoch the Marquis de Sade. Admittedly, I wasn’t expected to read analyses of how religion, war, and slavery impacted our sexualities (and relevant imagery is included on some pages), but the author of this book is not afraid to broach those subjects.

I wouldn’t say that tricky subjects aren’t handled with care within these pages or that it’s un-PC, but the tone is sometimes decidedly frank. If you’re especially religious or still experience trauma from war or slavery, then A Lover’s Pinch might not be a book you wish to pick up (or you may wish to skip those specific chapters).

With this in mind, the book starts with a strong historical tone. The author touche on worldwide (sometimes longstanding) stereotypes of sex and power including the Orient as well as Nazis (and the strange, erotic movies inspired by them).  It’s, thorough and interesting to learn but definitely dry and perhaps not applicable to modern kinksters.

I found that A Lover’s Pinch really picked up as Tupper dove into Victorian England’s relationship with sex, one that is similar to that in modern America: both obsessed and prudish. As he analyzes the (not-so) secret kink in this era, describes the lives of specific individuals and introduces the reader to publications that deal with S&M, you really get a feel for how long we’ve been into power exchange in our sex (and lives). Of course, these ongoings are generally fragmented, and there isn’t much to speak of in terms of community.

The reader watches the community come and build together in the 20th century, and this is where I think Tupper does the best at describing how things really were. Yes, some men returned from war, donned leather vests, and continued to live within the structure they’d grown to know in the service by practicing S&M with other men. But the author describes how, for some, the leather community was not one that was sexual.

As the book — and time — progresses, we learn how the kink community overlaps with the gay community and how, slowly but surely, gay women and, eventually, straight people join the S&M community. Tupper discusses some of the better-known groups from across the country and world, including DC’s Black Rose, Janus, and the many gay and lesbian communities that supported — and sometimes opposed — such activities.

I was especially struck by the way that the book describes how some feminists railed against S&M as something that was misogynistic. I learned of similar opposition from feminists to sex toys, especially dildos when I read Buzz.

Tupper’s analysis of gay, lesbian, and straight S&M is important, and he impresses upon the reader how these communities are still separated in ways — and even the division within the leather/gay S&M communities due to an entire generation succumbing to AIDS. If there is a more overarching theme of A Lover’s Pinch, I don’t know what it is. While many people are into S&M, and there are groups in many major cities, it’s still as fragmented as the Android market.

Still, S&M has followed a similar trajectory as homosexuality, first ignored and denied, then pathologized and illegalized, next slowly decriminalized, increasingly understand, and, to some extent, accepted. Tupper skillfully draws the parallel.

It was interesting to see the progression from haphazardly-created communities and risky scenes to planned organizations (and to learn the origin of munches) to the adoption of the “Safe, Sane, Consensual” creed, which was never intended to guide an entire sexual subculture. In some ways, BDSM became commodified alongside these other cultural shifts.

My favorite chapter in this book may have been that on “Alt.sex”. Although I am too young to have used Usenet, I remember the days of HTML-based chatrooms, which may have been my own introduction to BDSM. Tupper discusses the usefulness (and lack thereof) of capitalization conventions and how S&M relationships have existed solely in the online realm. He touches on Gor communities and online roleplaying. I remember many of these things fondly, and while they’re in relatively recent past when it comes to the overall history of S&M (as this book does a good job at pointing out), my own memories from 15-20 years ago seem so long ago.

As the book wraps up, Tupper reveals his own interest in S&M and coming out, and how coming out is different for kinksters than those in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially when it comes to the still-existing ramifications for those who might like their sex on the kinky side. Tupper discusses specific cases as recent as 2001 in which S&M interests left people ostracized and unable to find employment. And this is all despite the strides society has made to accept those who practice consensual S&M.

Finally, the author makes the case that S&M has both expanded sex and brought the idea of consent to the forefront in sexual and nonsexual interactions. He makes a nod to Fifty Shades while arguing that thanks to its popularity, BDSM is more visible than ever but still not part of the mainstream because the story wraps mild kink in a package of acceptable hetero romance. In comparison to this and other pop culture representations, BDSM can much more extreme, and mainstream portrayals still struggle to get it right.

On the other hand, Peter Tupper has worked hard to “get it right” in A Lover’s Pinch. His hard work is noticeable. It’s easy to appreciate the research that went into making this history of sadomasochism.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Happy Down Below: Everything You Want to Know About the Penis and Other Bits

September 10th, 2018

Happy Down Below
$13.87 from Amazon

I spent an awful lot of time learning — and teaching about — female genitalia. I talk about where it is, what it does, how it works, and how to interact with the various bits and bobbles. Like most aspects of human sexuality, a (cis) woman’s sexuality, is ignored. So I feel there’s a good reason for me to harp about vulvas and vagina, clitorises and cervixes, and everything in between.

Despite more attention being paid to the penis, its testicular friends, and the neighboring prostate, there’s a wealth of knowledge that is unknown (perhaps forgotten), and I came face to face with it in Happy Down Below, a book about the penis by German urologist Dr. Oliver Gralla. I was continually surprised by what I learned in this book. It was the type of knowledge you can only glean through an active career in your field, and the good doctor shares the knowledge-through-experience he’s had treating UTIs, infertility, erectile dysfunction, foreskin, and other topics.

Happy Down Below starts strong, with Dr. Gralla writing about how little most (cis) men know about their penises. Phew, at least it’s not just me.

However, the book slowed down a bit as the doctor introduced the reader to the penis, which included information about average sized (old news pour moi), the definition of and possible solutions to having a micropenis, and a rundown of all the parts. Toward the end of the chapter are sections on spots, warts, and other unwanted conditions of the penis. This first chapter is somewhat confusingly arranged, and it left me wondering what the actual point of it was. At nearly 50 pages, the first chapter is lengthy, and it could easily have been split up for clarity of theme.

Peppered throughout this book are stories from Dr. Gralla’s career or his colleagues’. The stories range from unbelievable (patients inserting ball bearings into their urethra until they fill the bladder) to grotesque (doctors using parts of corpses to enlarge the penis and patients injecting caulk into their penises). These stories appear almost immediately in Happy Down Below, which help to break up some of the older information or drive home a point that the author is making.

These anecdotes weren’t enough to keep me enthralled through the confusing first chapter; although, things perked up as Dr. Gralla discussed prostate issues that are often kept in the dark. I was especially struck by the fact that most elderly men will die with prostate cancer that has never been detected or interfered in their lives. The doctor makes pragmatic arguments about when and how to treat prostate issues, and his pragmatic nature plays a large role in his work and this book. For example, there are times when he admits to treating patients suffering from psychological issues about their sexual performance with drugs that have no effect, beneficial or otherwise, to facilitate the placebo effect. This sort of thing seems bizarre to someone raised in litigious America, but I cannot help but give his doctor credence.

This book picks up in the third chapter, which focuses on women’s urology. Dr. Gralla sees few women, but the ones he does see have typically struggled with consistent UTIs. The book continues to pick up traction as Galla writes about infertility and the couples with whom he has worked. This chapter offers insight into the mistakes people make (steaming your penis multiple times daily will not help you conceive) that decrease fertility how often patients misunderstand doctors and instructions. There was a brief tip about how sex closer to ovulation is more likely to conceive a boy child, which I found interesting.

Of course, it only makes sense that a book like this includes information about male contraception, but Dr. Gralla only discusses current options such as condoms and vasectomies. It’s interesting to learn about the efficacy of vasectomy reversal, but it would be nice to know what the future might hold, too.

Dr. Gralla does make some good points as he discusses erectile dysfunction, which has an appearance of being on the rise, especially in young men. But this may not be the truth. It’s perhaps easy to forget about the ways that men struggle, but Dr. Gralla has dealt with patients as young as 14 who wanted to better please their lovers. And while I wouldn’t call sexual curiosity a struggle, it certainly leads to problems that were entertaining enough to read (some complete with hydraulic pliers or bolt cutters).

Gralla does due diligence to various methods for dealing with ED before launching into a chapter on premature ejaculation where he similarly relays solutions. By now, the formula is apparent enough that you get a feel for how the chapter on hormones and testosterone will read; explanatory and interesting with a few entertaining tales and a couple of lackluster moments.

If you’re not sold on the educational merits of Happy Down Below, you might like the final chapter, in which Dr. Gralla discusses things that wound up in the orifices of his patients. Lost dildos, tree boughs, matches, and a bladder full of ball bearings all make an appearance here. This chapter is so bad you can’t look away.. if that’s how you react to that sort of thing. It doesn’t follow the formula of the preceding chapters, which I didn’t mind. Dr. Gralla tackles the subject with humor, so Happy Down Below does end on a lighthearted note.

As I read Happy Down Below, I couldn’t help but detect something a bit old-fashioned about Dr. Gralla., especially in his humor He is noticeably from a generation older than mine, and some of his comments highlight over mindsets or reflect cliches and stereotypes that are no longer readily accepted. This bothered me more toward the beginning of the book, but either I became accustomed to it, or it lessened as the book went on. Likely both.

It’s difficult to say who the target audience of this book is. At some parts in Happy Down Below, Dr. Gralla offers advice to readers who might be struggling with the specific issues he’s encountered during his career. At others, his advice is better targeted at medical practitioners. There were points when I simply enjoyed learning new things the way I do when I read any medical/science book. While I think it’s good for books to have a wide audience, sometimes a niche makes it easier to market or just recommend.

I did it enjoy this book for the most part and felt like I learned quite a bit. It was a quick and easy read even if you don’t.

I wouldn’t use it as an encyclopedia, but it wouldn’t hurt to pick up this book if you like books by doctors/professionals about their careers, want to know more about urological health in laymen’s terms than medical jargon, and want to be prepared for possible future complications with your genitals. Happy Down Below would likely be a good book for many (cis) men to pick up; although, I cannot help but wonder whether they would.

You can buy this book on Amazon. At the time of writing this review, there’s a coupon that will automatically be added to your cart!

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Bijoux Indiscrets cosmetics for better sex

Sex Q&A by Anne Hooper

August 7th, 2018

Sex Q&A
$8.75 from Amazon

Sex Q&A is aptly named because the format, other than a few asides, in-depth tutorials and quizzes, is simply question-and-answer. A quick Google of Anne Hooper shows that she has been a columnist for several outlets including Cosmo and the Daily Mail. Ms. Hooper’s introduction states that the questions in the book are based on the many questions she’s received as a columnist; although, some of them could very well be reprints. It does seem as though the questions in Sex Q&A are specifically worded to hit on a variety of sexuality subjects.

This book is split into eight chapters, each of which ends in a quiz that tests your knowledge and skills about the subject of that chapter: sex in relationships, questions men ask, questions women ask, sex when you’re single, spicing up your sex life, pregnancy and beyond, questioning your sexuality, and your sexual health.

As I mentioned, each chapter ends with a sort of skills test. It’s all very Cosmo, but I didn’t find it particularly revealing. In fact, I skipped right over the quizzes. Some people might find them entertaining or perhaps useful if they’re struggling with sex in their relationship or are less well versed in this subject than I am.

Most sections also have a “Case history” or two where Anne describes specific problems experienced by couples or individuals and how the general advice can specifically be applied. But some of these cases don’t show how the advice actually helped; they’re just Ms. Hooper describing what could help. Without proof of improvement, the advice can seem a little weak,

Although printed nearly 20 years ago, Sex Q&A manages to be ahead-of-its-time in some ways. It’s incredibly sex-positive, accepting of casual sex and masturbation, and pretty body-positive, too. It’s not homophobic, and Anne does a good job at answering questions about what is “normal.” She recommends a variety of sexual activities and doesn’t just focus on the man’s pleasure like so many sources. Anne also mentions science and theories about science that have only recently come across my radar. They certainly would have been new to be 17 years ago!

But Sex Q&A isn’t perfect. First, I would have liked a dedicated section on kink. Ms. Hooper does mention some kinky activities and related concepts such as contracts and negotiation, but she doesn’t explicitly introduce certain ideas or tools. For example, she casually mentioned caning during a section on impact play without discussing how many consider caning to be a more extreme form of impact play. I think she could have recommended a paddle or flogger that might have been more beginner-friendly, especially because the target audience of Sex Q&A doesn’t seem to be especially kinky.

Similarly, I would have liked to see more information on toy and lube safety as those two topics have come a long way since the early 2000s. Aside from recommending them in general and advising against using oils with condoms, Anne doesn’t include a lot of specifics. She does try to define a fewtypese of toys, but it doesn’t seem incredibly inclusive, and there’s so much more information to be had these days. One thing I note, in particular,r is how Ms. Hooper defines a clitoral stimulator only as a part of cock ring and not as a standalone toy.

Although it’s not homophobic, it certainly is cis-normative. The assumption is that men are having sex with women, and they’re cisgendered. I realize that there has been a lot of advancement in the last two decades, however. For the time, I’m sure those conservative attitudes were pretty contemporary. Sex Q&A is also dated. For example, more recent research has cast a shadow of doubt over the significance of testosterone on sex drive, and most people now consider the G-spot as part of the clitoris. These answers could use some clarification.

There are a few topics that were all the rage when this book was published but proved to be fads since then: penis piercings and autofellatio, among them. The distinct lack of information on the contraceptive sponge is also indicative of the time when this book was printed.

Despite being a bit dated, Sex Q&A is full of a lot of information. Because it runs the gamut, Sex Q&A is not ideal for everyone. But the generalized advice would be great as part of a sex ed library or perhaps for young adults and the sexually inexperienced.

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Categories: Books

Tell Me What You Want

July 31st, 2018

Tell Me What You Want
$13.99 - $20.99 from Amazon

For the past year — or perhaps it’s closer to two — I’ve been a fan and follower of Psychology of Sex, a website run by PhD Justin Lehmiller. Dr. Lehmiller updates his website with news about recent sexuality research, provides insights into why humans have sex the way we do, and sheds light on older studies, too. If you’re interested in the science of sex but don’t want to read the studies yourself, Dr. Lehmiller does a fantastic job of getting to the point and presenting it in an accessible way.

His work is right up my alley if you couldn’t already tell. When I found out he was releasing a book this summer, I knew I had to read it. I was excited for him and just as excited when I realized I’d have a chance to review it, despite 2018 being a busy year for book reviews.

Dr. Lehmiller’s recently released book is Tell Me What You Want (subtitle: The Science of Sexual Desire and How It Can Help You Improve Your Sex Life). The book is based largely on a 4,000-person survey administered by Lehmiller to Americans about their sexual fantasies. Lehmiller uses his book as a vehicle to explain how common some sexual fantasies are — not to mention fantasizing in general — and to help the reader better fulfill their own desires.

Right from the beginning of the book, Lehmiller reveals results from his survey. The most popular American fantasies include BDSM and group sex scenarios but fewer celebrities than you might have imagined. The introduction whets the reader’s appetite for the numbers while reminding them that this research can be beneficial to their own sex lives. This is followed by a chapter that briefly defines a sexual fantasy and outlines the seven most common themes that Justin found in his survey.

The next chapter takes an in-depth look at those categories with multipartner sex, BDSM (including consensual nonconsent) and novelty/adventure being so common that he describes them as the three fantasies nearly everyone has. This long chapter continues with the four next-most common sexual fantasy themes: taboos (include voyeurism and exhibitionism), swinging/polyamory/partner sharing, intimacy, and homoeroticism and gender-bending.

Dr. Lehmiller relies on specific comments from people who took his survey to detail the scenarios that played out in their heads. For example, Dr. Lehmiller found that the people who had BDSM fantasies imagined scenarios in which care and consent were significant, not nonconsensual play (which would be abuse). This insight into how common these fantasies are as well as the details that are crucial for enjoyment is fascinating. He explains the different fetishes in a clear way so that readers can follow. I personally think it’s rather calming (although no one would describe me as sheltered or a prude). I think that readers who are not as well-versed in the topic of sexuality would take something out of this book.

I know that I followed intently as Dr. Lehmiller moved into a chapter that explained differences in fantasies between the genders. He touches on the greater range of sexual flexibility that most women exhibit as well as some biological differences between the sexes. Justin also makes a point to explain how societal influences can play out in our fantasies. Some of the sex differences were typical. Yes, women tend to have more passionate and romantic fantasies, but they also fantasize more often about BDSM while men more often fantasize about group sex. Women more often view themselves as a submissive in fantasies than men.

I found Dr. Lehmiller’s conclusions were interesting, too, pointing out that women may be more flexible in their fantasies than men and that women often view themselves as an object rather than a subject when fantasizing. He also explains how taboo fantasies may be more common in men because if their greater propensity toward compulsive sexual behavior. Finally, He’s quick to point out that while one sex may have certain fantasies more frequently, the opposite will frequently share those same fantasies.

Throughout the book, I found the results of this survey intriguing, but Lehmiller includes plenty of information from other sources and previous surveys to support his conclusions and sometimes to contrast the differing survey results. I have nearly 50 bookmarks added, many of which highlight his sources that I wish to examine in the future myself.

The next chapter provides the reader with 15 questions, each of which provides insight into their probably sexual fantasies. The list includes age, gender, sexual orientation, political affiliation, religiosity, sexual dysfunction, sexual assault victimhood, sexual compulsivity, relationship satisfaction, attachment style, “Type A” personalities, extroversion, compassion, stress coping, and self-esteem can also reveal a person’s likely fantasies. You get the feeling that if you revealed just a bit of yourself to Dr. Lehmiller, he could fill in the blanks and make some accurate assumptions about your fantasy proclivities.

I do think that this chapter seemed a bit out of place because the next two focus on who we fantasize about (frequently current or past lovers and celebrities such as Channing Tatum and ScarJo) and the settings of our fantasies (usually less common than activities and participants but still telling). I did find the analysis of how exposure to porn alters our desired fantasy partners (and own bodies) to be quite compelling; although, Lehmiller does not have an anti-porn stance. He simply highlights how it affects the way we view and engage in sex. The results and commentary about how people of different sexual orientations and races approach partners in their fantasies is also telling. It’s really the conclusions that Dr. Lehmiller was able to draw that painted a picture of our larger sexual conscious.

The last few chapters in the book focus on the personal, however, with Lehmiller providing guidance for the reader to express rather than repress their sexual fantasies. He provides advice for communicating fantasies to sexual partners as well as for when acting on those fantasies would not be advised. Dr. Lehmiller emphasizes that the some sexual fantasies are so common that partners may be share them… if they’re just able to talk about them.

In the following chapter, Lehmiller explains how those people who have been able to live out discuss fantasies were by and large able to act them out and enjoyed doing so; although, a few people were met with rejection outright and some did not attain the satisfaction that they expected from engaging in their fantasies. This chapter reads as a pragmatic guide to getting what you really want in bed.

As Lehmiller ends his book, he makes arguments for more comprehensive sex education in America (inspired partly by his trip earlier this year to the Netherlands), open communication about sex, and experimentation as a way to improve relationship satisfaction. Although Tell Me What You Want is about sexuality, the book includes many pieces of advice that would strengthen relationships. He reminds us that porn is not the problem (although it may be a symptom of one), that there is no perfect partner for any of us, and that sometimes our problems are difficult but can still be resolved.

The final chapter in this book reiterates Lehmiller’s calm and logical approach to understanding sexuality and improving sexual satisfaction, which is exemplified on nearly every page of Tell Me What You Want. It’s difficult to disagree with this.

Not only did I find the information in this book to be interesting and useful, but I found Dr. Lehmiller’s casual tone to be approachable and entertaining. Tell Me What You Want was enjoyable to read, never dry or judgmental. He navigates potentially controversial topics thoughtfully. Although I can imagine there are those who would bristle at the results of the fantasy survey — as well as the conclusions that could be drawn from them — Lehmiller takes care to avoid that as much as possible.

If I have one complaint about Tell Me What You Are, it’s that this survey isn’t a representative sample. However, Lehmiller makes it clear that these percentages refer to his sample and not the country or world at large. If he was interested in what I want, I would say that I would love to see the statistical breakdown for at least some of the data. Otherwise, Tell Me What You Want really sated my desire to look inside American’s bedrooms and brains.

And, yes, Dr. Lehmiller does make a reference to the Spice Girl’s song.

If you want to read Tell Me What You Want, you can buy the hardcover, softcover, or Kindle version on Amazon.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

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Better Sex Through Mindfulness: How Women Can Cultivate Desire

July 12th, 2018

Better Sex Through Mindfulness: How Women Can Cultivate Desire
$13.86 from Amazon

Some of you may not read as many educational books about sex as I do, so you may not realize that this year has been pretty active with releases (this does not actually include my last book review, Becoming Cliterate, which was released last year). It’s why I’ve been reading about sex non-stop for the past several months. It’s been a few years since this has been the case; although, the break from reading about astrophysics certainly was welcome.

Check out all my book reviews before you leave.

Even though Better Sex Through Mindfulness was just published a couple months ago and I was able to get my hands on a digital copy immediately, the author came across my radar last year. You see, Lori Brotto, a psychologist, is one of the women I wrote about in my post about women who study sex.  Let me refresh with the description of her work because it leads us directly to the theme of Brotto’s book:

Lori Brotto has studied the disconnect that women often experience between mental and physical arousal. Brotto’s research suggests that the way that women multitask and tend to be detached from their bodies contributes to this. Brotto suggests mindfulness as one possible solution

So her work and research have led her to write a book directly about how mindfulness can help women overcome their sexual issues. Brotto is one of many who are adamant that the solution to low sexual desire cannot be fixed simply by a little pink pill (Emily Nagoski, who wrote the foreword, shares similar views). And while the tagline of this book focuses on desire. Better Sex Through Mindfulness goes beyond how mindfulness can be helpful with sex drive and focuses on topics such as heightening pleasure and reducing the impact from pain as well.

As a researcher, Brotto has worked with women to help them solve and alleviate the symptoms of their sexual issues, and she draws heavily from her own research when she makes conclusions in Better Sex Through Mindfulness. When she tells you that women have increased sex drive as well as pleasure from sex due to a something as small as mindfulness, you believe her and wonder if we’ve been treating sexual complications wrong all along. At one point, Brotto mentions how “mood, sense of well-being, body image, self-esteem, and how a woman feels about her partner turned out to be far stronger predictors of her level of sexual desire than a single hormone,” which really drives this point home (later she highlights how opinions about sexuality can also be more significant than hormones). Not only may some treatment options for sexual dysfunction be misguided, but the focus of hormones as cause and treatment for sexual dysfunction after menopause may also overestimate the function of hormones in sexual function.

But let me back up because by calling mindfulness ‘small,’ I am being quite reductionist. Really, mindfulness can be life-changing, and Dr. Brotto takes time to explore the definition and use of mindfulness as well as its history (the word wasn’t using when Masters and Johnson were teaching about sex, for example, but their sensate practices were certainly mindful!). She compares and contrasts mindfulness with cognitive behavioral therapy, with which I was familiar from my own experiences.

Furthermore, mindfulness can be difficult for some people, and Dr. Brotto emphasizes that willingness to try and practice mindfulness as key to its effectiveness. As someone who has struggled with meditation and mindfulness in the past, I think this is especially pertinent. It struck me that getting help to master mindfulness might be the catalyst to success in people who similarly struggle. Indeed, Dr. Brotto points out how trying to force yourself to relax is a misunderstanding of mindfulness and can be counterproductive.

Brotto often points to others’ research as well. In her book, she talks about studies that have highlighted differences in the brains of women who have healthy versus low sexual desire. One difference may be smaller amounts of grey matter in the brains of women who have low sexual desire. Brotto explains how women with low sexual desire spend more time monitoring their sexual performances rather than enjoying sex — and research backs it up!

Better Sex Through Mindfulness isn’t all about the argument that mindfulness can be helpful, however. Scattered through the books are practices that readers can use to (try to) improve their own sex lives. Admittedly, I am not currently struggling with sexual issues, but I found the reminder to be mindful during my everyday life useful. Of course, this book also offered something to sate my appetite for sexual science. Of particular note was how mindfulness can assist women who suffer from pain during sex due to various conditions. While mindfulness does not lessen the pain (and in some instances, medical professionals are not sure how to do this), it does enable women to enjoy sex and intimacy by reducing the intensity of their perception of pain and by encouraging a wider variety of intimacy.

I also highlighted a blurb regarding how sexual concordance differs between men and women. Women experience a lower level of +.26 than men’s level of +.66 (with 1.0 being perfect concordance between mental and physical arousal). This book was full of interesting tidbits like that.

In Better Sex Through Mindfulness, Brotto makes the case for her mindfulness programs by revealing the results of surveys filled out by the participants. She states that “sexual satisfaction increases by 60 percent” from prior to the program. She also illustrates how learning mindfulness can equate to long-term sexual improvement and not just improvement in the present. Even women who were dubious about the effects of mindfulness found it to be helpful. Certain groups of women (those who were the most distresses prior) even benefited the most.

In the end, Dr. Brotto’s book shows that not only is there hope when it comes to sexual dysfunctions such as low desire or pain but that the solution might be easier and more accessible than people realize, all without needing pharmaceutical intervention. Although geared toward women, I can imagine men would benefit from this book, too.

Better Sex Through Mindfulness ends with an appendix full of resources, either for women to get help to improve sexual function. This book is ideal for any woman (or man) who wants to get more out of her sex life, but some professionals might also benefit from reading it and incorporating mindfulness into their treatment and coping strategies.

If you think you might benefit, you can buy it at any number of retailers. A hard copy might be especially useful for partaking in activities, but I usually prefer Kindle versions for highlighting and taking notes. Get the digital version for less than $10. It’s only a couple bucks more for physical!

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Categories: Books, Reviews

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