I've gone back and forth a million times on sharing this. I've considered whether people will think less of me. I've wondered if I am ready to tell the whole world.
I was sexually abused.
For years.
My innocence was stolen from me by a man my parents trusted. By a man I'd known my entire life. By a man with three daughters of his own. By a man who raped a woman in his past and no one believed her. By a man who spent his entire life degrading women. Putting us down. Treating women like lesser beings. By a man for whom misogyny was a lifestyle.
And today everytime I turn on the news and open an Internet browser, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, I am faced with a richer, more educated, orange version of the same man.
Everything about Donald trump offends me. His politics, his words, his lies and his hypocrisy. But most of all, his treatment of women. On three separate occasions he has been accused of sexual misconduct. Three different women have come forward. Two it seems were paid off. Most recently a woman came forward and accused him of touching her as a child. A child. A 13 year old child.
For those of you who have never been sexually assaulted as children let me tell you a little bit of what that was like for her. She hated her body. She spent hours under scalding water trying to erase him from her body. She scrubbed and scratched and burned her skin red until she was bleeding in places.
She woke up sweating in the night with his touch on her skin and his voice in her ears.
She cried tears that no one saw. And screamed into her fists hidden in closests or showers.
She lived in fear that someone would look at her and see her dirty, disgusting insides. She spent hours, days, weeks, reliving every single moment and wondering if she enticed him. Wondering what she could have done differently to keep herself safe.
She heard his threats in her mind while she looked at her loved ones and vowed to never tell her secret if it kept them safe. She carried the burden of their safety on her little shoulders because she truly believed he would hurt the ones she loved the most.
She slept with the TV on to drown out the sound of her own thoughts. To drown out the sound her sobs.
She looked in the mirror and she saw a whore, a slut, a used and discarded piece of trash where she should have seen ad beautiful blossoming young woman.
And she has spent every day since wondering if she is too broken and too dirty to ever be loved.
That, is what being sexually abused as a child is like.
That is what the Republican presidential candidate is accused of doing. He is innocent until proven guilty, but so was my abuser and he too had a history of abuse. Most do.
That is what you're voting for.....
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Silent demons
"You are the embodiment of confidence, raw wit, and security"
That is what my best friend told me one night, when I asked why no one ever noticed when I was drowning in my own anxiety. She told me that while she might see it, and perhaps a few choice others, that I had worked so hard, for so long, to present myself as confident, I had succeeded almost completely.
So, here is my dirty little secret, my mind is a giant, gaping abyss of anxiety, fear, insecurity, and worry.
At any given moment, my mind looks like an internet explorer, with 40 tabs open, 27 of them are blinking and demanding my attention and half of those, are anxieties.
I don't know when I lost the ability to show the rest of the world who I am, maybe I never had it, maybe that is my strongest anxiety. But, I think I do a disservice to myself and to those who know me, when I constantly hide myself.
I am witty, but while you laugh, I will torture myself with funnier things I could have said, I will wonder if you really found me funny, I will wonder if you secretly wish I would leave.
I am blunt, but while I am being blunt I am squashing the voice in my head that says, this is why you will be alone, this is why no one loves you.
I am confident, but it takes me 3 hours and 7 nervous break downs to find an outfit, I have been known to scrub my make up off twice or three times before I am happy and you will never see me leave the house without make up on. Ever.
I am tough, but I want nothing more than for someone to notice that I am barely holding my shit together.
I am independent, but I want nothing more than for someone to tell me that they want me, that they cannot live without me.
I appear to be so many things that people envy, but here is the dirtiest secret of all, those of us who seem to have it the most together, are usually the biggest messes.
So, the next time you look at someone and think, she is too confident, too strong, too independent, remember, inside, she probably needs to hear she is beautiful/strong/loved/needed, more perhaps, than those who are falling apart on the outside.
That is what my best friend told me one night, when I asked why no one ever noticed when I was drowning in my own anxiety. She told me that while she might see it, and perhaps a few choice others, that I had worked so hard, for so long, to present myself as confident, I had succeeded almost completely.
So, here is my dirty little secret, my mind is a giant, gaping abyss of anxiety, fear, insecurity, and worry.
At any given moment, my mind looks like an internet explorer, with 40 tabs open, 27 of them are blinking and demanding my attention and half of those, are anxieties.
I don't know when I lost the ability to show the rest of the world who I am, maybe I never had it, maybe that is my strongest anxiety. But, I think I do a disservice to myself and to those who know me, when I constantly hide myself.
I am witty, but while you laugh, I will torture myself with funnier things I could have said, I will wonder if you really found me funny, I will wonder if you secretly wish I would leave.
I am blunt, but while I am being blunt I am squashing the voice in my head that says, this is why you will be alone, this is why no one loves you.
I am confident, but it takes me 3 hours and 7 nervous break downs to find an outfit, I have been known to scrub my make up off twice or three times before I am happy and you will never see me leave the house without make up on. Ever.
I am tough, but I want nothing more than for someone to notice that I am barely holding my shit together.
I am independent, but I want nothing more than for someone to tell me that they want me, that they cannot live without me.
I appear to be so many things that people envy, but here is the dirtiest secret of all, those of us who seem to have it the most together, are usually the biggest messes.
So, the next time you look at someone and think, she is too confident, too strong, too independent, remember, inside, she probably needs to hear she is beautiful/strong/loved/needed, more perhaps, than those who are falling apart on the outside.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Genital analogies...
Tonight on the table, vagina one of my favorite things, almost as beloved as the color black and the souls of my enemies, they are super fun to play with and if you play with them right you can bring yourself (and a lucky someone) a world of pleasure.
But, thats not really what I wanted to talk about. For as long as I can remember there is a specific analogy when clam grooming is discussed.
And its fucking weird.
And it needs to stop.
Don't know what I'm talking about yet? In the last decade (or so, because in my head ten years ago was 1995, don't judge me) there has been an increase in the amount of grooming women do to their clams and gone are the days when everyone had a full bush to whatever extent the good lord gave ya. Now? I feel like taking of panties can be full of surprises. will the new toy have hard wood floors, area rugs, or full carpeting? While your grooming habits are a very personal decision, countless blogs, articles, and women's conversations have involved them and there is one phrase I hear over and over and over, if you go bare it "looks like a little girl".
STAHPPPP. Listen, I don't know how much sex ed you had, or in the case of those of you who HAVE a vagina but pubic hair is FAR from the only changes that body part undergoes when your hormone fountains start dumping decades of mood swings, stained panties and salt cravings at you. Nothing about a hairless woman looks juvenile, and its fucking weird when the comparison is made. Stop making another person's decisions "dirty" or "wrong" simply because you don't feel comfortable with them. Its a really intense form of shaming to assign to someone simply because you disagree with their grooming choice.
I realize vaginal shaming is not a cultural war that must be fought on the front lines, but for the love of fuck, if you don't like hard wood floors stop assigning pedophilia feelings on those who do.....you look like an asshole, and assholes don't get their floors played with, no matter how they carpet them, or don't!
But, thats not really what I wanted to talk about. For as long as I can remember there is a specific analogy when clam grooming is discussed.
And its fucking weird.
And it needs to stop.
Don't know what I'm talking about yet? In the last decade (or so, because in my head ten years ago was 1995, don't judge me) there has been an increase in the amount of grooming women do to their clams and gone are the days when everyone had a full bush to whatever extent the good lord gave ya. Now? I feel like taking of panties can be full of surprises. will the new toy have hard wood floors, area rugs, or full carpeting? While your grooming habits are a very personal decision, countless blogs, articles, and women's conversations have involved them and there is one phrase I hear over and over and over, if you go bare it "looks like a little girl".
STAHPPPP. Listen, I don't know how much sex ed you had, or in the case of those of you who HAVE a vagina but pubic hair is FAR from the only changes that body part undergoes when your hormone fountains start dumping decades of mood swings, stained panties and salt cravings at you. Nothing about a hairless woman looks juvenile, and its fucking weird when the comparison is made. Stop making another person's decisions "dirty" or "wrong" simply because you don't feel comfortable with them. Its a really intense form of shaming to assign to someone simply because you disagree with their grooming choice.
I realize vaginal shaming is not a cultural war that must be fought on the front lines, but for the love of fuck, if you don't like hard wood floors stop assigning pedophilia feelings on those who do.....you look like an asshole, and assholes don't get their floors played with, no matter how they carpet them, or don't!
Monday, December 28, 2015
dear fair weather asshole....
You know the ones I mean, we have all met them, whether in dating or relationships, or friendships and family members, nothing is more infuriating than the fair weather assholes.
Not sure what I mean? Here is how to tell if you might be dealing with or might be one yourself:
Not sure what I mean? Here is how to tell if you might be dealing with or might be one yourself:
1. Any initiation on your part is met with vague non answers, wanna hang out? Maybe. Wanna hook up this week? We'll see. Interested in seeing this show with me? I'm not sure
2. texts, calls, emails, facebook messages go unanswered for days, weeks, or months, and I don't mean a person going through things or with a generally busy life, because these same fair weather assholes will have a mini stroke if their messages go unanswered in a timely (or immediate) fashion, it is only THEY who can "answer texts whenever they feel like" because "its rude to expect an immediate answer".
2. texts, calls, emails, facebook messages go unanswered for days, weeks, or months, and I don't mean a person going through things or with a generally busy life, because these same fair weather assholes will have a mini stroke if their messages go unanswered in a timely (or immediate) fashion, it is only THEY who can "answer texts whenever they feel like" because "its rude to expect an immediate answer".
3. Following the need for an immediate answer, the fair weather asshole will be genuinely upset, to the point of anger, if their request for attention (usually last minute or minimum of a day in advance) are not met. You MUST rearrange your schedule for them, immediately, or you don't care.
4. They will cancel, but forget to tell you, either until you contact them or at the very last possible moment, after you have already showered. The excuse will be standard, sickness, work, etc. It will usually be used multiple times by the same fair weather asshole, as though you are brainless and you don't remember that they also claimed a stomach bug last time too (girl, that's not healthy, get that shit looked at before you shit yourself).
5. When they can fit you into their very special lives, they will slather you with compliments, about how wonderful you are, to keep you coming back, I think? Or maybe its just because they are so used to bullshitting they can't actually have a normal conversation. Don't attempt anything deeper with the fair weather asshole, they only want to share THEIR emotions, yours will be scoffed at and dismissed.
I genuinely used to think I was the only person who knew people like this, turns out, I'm not, and despite my blunt nature, I hate ending any kind of relationship, friends or more, as much as anyone else does. But, and I say this especially to the ladies, because I think we are more likely to take these things personally, its not you, its them, and your time, life, and attention are worth more than any fair weather douchbags who can't respect them,
Consider this my farewell, assholes, my time is too valuable for friends or lovers who can't be bothered to respect my time. Au revoir mother fuckers!
4. They will cancel, but forget to tell you, either until you contact them or at the very last possible moment, after you have already showered. The excuse will be standard, sickness, work, etc. It will usually be used multiple times by the same fair weather asshole, as though you are brainless and you don't remember that they also claimed a stomach bug last time too (girl, that's not healthy, get that shit looked at before you shit yourself).
5. When they can fit you into their very special lives, they will slather you with compliments, about how wonderful you are, to keep you coming back, I think? Or maybe its just because they are so used to bullshitting they can't actually have a normal conversation. Don't attempt anything deeper with the fair weather asshole, they only want to share THEIR emotions, yours will be scoffed at and dismissed.
I genuinely used to think I was the only person who knew people like this, turns out, I'm not, and despite my blunt nature, I hate ending any kind of relationship, friends or more, as much as anyone else does. But, and I say this especially to the ladies, because I think we are more likely to take these things personally, its not you, its them, and your time, life, and attention are worth more than any fair weather douchbags who can't respect them,
Consider this my farewell, assholes, my time is too valuable for friends or lovers who can't be bothered to respect my time. Au revoir mother fuckers!
Sunday, December 6, 2015
To my grandmother
To my grandmother,
It has been two weeks, three days, and seven hours since you left.
It has been two weeks, four days, and 18 hours since you whispered "love you" to me last.
In that two weeks I have learned my first hard lesson in grief. In these weeks and days I have learned what it is to exist in a world without the woman who held my peaceful place, my home in her heart and her smile and her endless and unconditional devotion.
I know it was time to say goodbye, and I won't lie, my first feeling was one of relief that you were no longer suffering, because I thought to see you in pain was the worst possible feeling in the world, I told myself, that you were already gone in so many ways that I was prepared for the loss.
I was wrong.
Even when you could no longer tell us all the things you wanted to say, you showed us, you laughed with us, you lit up with visible joy when we visited, you were still trying to feed me, even when you couldn't walk without assistance, you were still trying to care for US when it was our time to care for you. You were still very much here, until the very end, even if your stories were only in our memories, your living room, your smile, was still my favorite home.
In these weeks I have had time to relive every time I disappointed you, time to relive every time I may have hurt you, I can only hope I made up for those times. I have had time to wonder if we told you we loved you and appreciated you often enough, if I told you how much you really taught us, how much of who I am would not be, if not for you.
When I went to see you that last night, I had driven home with all of these things I felt a burning need to tell you, but when I was finally in that room, all I could think to tell you was that I loved you and it was ok for you to go.
I thought that I knew grief when Poppy went, but I didn't, because as long as I had you, I still had part of Poppy too.
It comes in waves, I can be ok for moments, and then it will hit me, again. A chapter of my life, your life, our time together, is over, forever. You won't be in that chair with a smile for me, you won't insist I eat before I leave, you won't tell me how much Noah looks like my dad again, you won't ask where my mother is, or who made me boss, again.
In all of our years together, I only saw you cry the day that Poppy died, so I can only imagine how you'd shush us and tell us to stop carrying on, so I'll do my best not to cry too much, and drink a highball in your honor while I bake the best cookies the world has ever known.
I hope, wherever you are, you can see how much we miss you and know the impact you had in all of our lives. The hole you left will never be filled, but we will do our best to make you proud.
Rest well, balmy, you deserve it.
It has been two weeks, three days, and seven hours since you left.
It has been two weeks, four days, and 18 hours since you whispered "love you" to me last.
In that two weeks I have learned my first hard lesson in grief. In these weeks and days I have learned what it is to exist in a world without the woman who held my peaceful place, my home in her heart and her smile and her endless and unconditional devotion.
I know it was time to say goodbye, and I won't lie, my first feeling was one of relief that you were no longer suffering, because I thought to see you in pain was the worst possible feeling in the world, I told myself, that you were already gone in so many ways that I was prepared for the loss.
I was wrong.
Even when you could no longer tell us all the things you wanted to say, you showed us, you laughed with us, you lit up with visible joy when we visited, you were still trying to feed me, even when you couldn't walk without assistance, you were still trying to care for US when it was our time to care for you. You were still very much here, until the very end, even if your stories were only in our memories, your living room, your smile, was still my favorite home.
In these weeks I have had time to relive every time I disappointed you, time to relive every time I may have hurt you, I can only hope I made up for those times. I have had time to wonder if we told you we loved you and appreciated you often enough, if I told you how much you really taught us, how much of who I am would not be, if not for you.
When I went to see you that last night, I had driven home with all of these things I felt a burning need to tell you, but when I was finally in that room, all I could think to tell you was that I loved you and it was ok for you to go.
I thought that I knew grief when Poppy went, but I didn't, because as long as I had you, I still had part of Poppy too.
It comes in waves, I can be ok for moments, and then it will hit me, again. A chapter of my life, your life, our time together, is over, forever. You won't be in that chair with a smile for me, you won't insist I eat before I leave, you won't tell me how much Noah looks like my dad again, you won't ask where my mother is, or who made me boss, again.
In all of our years together, I only saw you cry the day that Poppy died, so I can only imagine how you'd shush us and tell us to stop carrying on, so I'll do my best not to cry too much, and drink a highball in your honor while I bake the best cookies the world has ever known.
I hope, wherever you are, you can see how much we miss you and know the impact you had in all of our lives. The hole you left will never be filled, but we will do our best to make you proud.
Rest well, balmy, you deserve it.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Your kid said what...
I nursed, co-slept (out of sheer necessity), fed him jarred baby food, licked his paci before sticking it back in his mouth, bottle fed, used formula too, gave him happy meals, failed to see the need to freak out when he ate dirt, I didn't baby wear because I didn't even know about it back then, he goes to public school, and organic is expensive...so yeah.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because before I continue I want you to know that I am not a perfect parent, I am not the mom sitting in the playground nursing her second grader while wearing her ten year old and snacking on organic crackers and vegan cheese after driving there with her two still rear facing seats. I am just a mom, doing her best, and I honestly thought, until a few weeks ago, if you loved your kiddo and you did your best, you couldn't fail, then someone relayed to me a story that left me speechless (yeah, me, I had NOTHING to say, wait till you hear it).
Picture it, speaking with a "friend" and this person turns to me and says, "I have to tell you this story, you're going to hate it but its so funny"---because lets be honest, if it starts like that, its obviously going to be...uh...great?
"so I was with my daughter," this person continues, "and we saw a black family at this event and our friends spoke to them and she looks at me and says, we don't have to go over there its ok, we don't talk to them kinds of people"
Ladies and gentleman, she is NINE. NINE FUCKING YEARS OLD, and somewhere along the way she has picked up this idea that another human being's skin color sets them apart into a group of people you "don't talk to". NINE years old and she has been taught that the pigment in someone's skin is an indication of what kind of human lies inside. They don't make words in the English language to express my horror as I sat there in complete silence trying to wrap my brain around the idea that in 2015 this could be "funny" to a parent. I would lose my MIND if my child said that, he wouldn't because he wasn't taught ignorance, but if he some how picked that up at school and found it funny, as children sometimes do, we would be having the longest history lesson and conversation of our LIVES while I cried on the inside and wondered where I had gone wrong. Luckily, I seem to have done this one thing right, my child is so far from prejudice he sometimes reminds ME to look deeper than the obvious in another person.
And suddenly, sitting my silent shock, I realized, you CAN be a shitty parent, even if you are providing the basics, you CAN love your child (and I truly believe this parent loves this child, in his own misguided way) and still be a terrible parent. You can provide, try, and love and still fail your child and cripple them for life. If bring them up in ignorance, whether it is racism, sexism, homophobia, whatever, they will spend the rest of their lives trying to relearn that or they will spend the rest of their lives in ignorance and stupidity damaging those around them with their hate, and it will be YOUR fault.
The next time you think racism is dead, come back and read this, remind yourself that if you're parenting its your job to help eliminate the racism that some assholes are still teaching. Don't be a shitty parent....be the part of reason that my child and his children will be able to say, racism is truly dead.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because before I continue I want you to know that I am not a perfect parent, I am not the mom sitting in the playground nursing her second grader while wearing her ten year old and snacking on organic crackers and vegan cheese after driving there with her two still rear facing seats. I am just a mom, doing her best, and I honestly thought, until a few weeks ago, if you loved your kiddo and you did your best, you couldn't fail, then someone relayed to me a story that left me speechless (yeah, me, I had NOTHING to say, wait till you hear it).
Picture it, speaking with a "friend" and this person turns to me and says, "I have to tell you this story, you're going to hate it but its so funny"---because lets be honest, if it starts like that, its obviously going to be...uh...great?
"so I was with my daughter," this person continues, "and we saw a black family at this event and our friends spoke to them and she looks at me and says, we don't have to go over there its ok, we don't talk to them kinds of people"
Ladies and gentleman, she is NINE. NINE FUCKING YEARS OLD, and somewhere along the way she has picked up this idea that another human being's skin color sets them apart into a group of people you "don't talk to". NINE years old and she has been taught that the pigment in someone's skin is an indication of what kind of human lies inside. They don't make words in the English language to express my horror as I sat there in complete silence trying to wrap my brain around the idea that in 2015 this could be "funny" to a parent. I would lose my MIND if my child said that, he wouldn't because he wasn't taught ignorance, but if he some how picked that up at school and found it funny, as children sometimes do, we would be having the longest history lesson and conversation of our LIVES while I cried on the inside and wondered where I had gone wrong. Luckily, I seem to have done this one thing right, my child is so far from prejudice he sometimes reminds ME to look deeper than the obvious in another person.
And suddenly, sitting my silent shock, I realized, you CAN be a shitty parent, even if you are providing the basics, you CAN love your child (and I truly believe this parent loves this child, in his own misguided way) and still be a terrible parent. You can provide, try, and love and still fail your child and cripple them for life. If bring them up in ignorance, whether it is racism, sexism, homophobia, whatever, they will spend the rest of their lives trying to relearn that or they will spend the rest of their lives in ignorance and stupidity damaging those around them with their hate, and it will be YOUR fault.
The next time you think racism is dead, come back and read this, remind yourself that if you're parenting its your job to help eliminate the racism that some assholes are still teaching. Don't be a shitty parent....be the part of reason that my child and his children will be able to say, racism is truly dead.
Friday, October 16, 2015
The great porn debate....
I follow several women's groups online, and in these groups, inevitably the topic of men and porn comes up.
Now, let me just say, any behavior that begins to effect your ability to function and connect with other people is BAD, that includes, WoW, crack, food, porn or whatever your addiction is, so OBVIOUSLY this is not about those people, I say this so you can spare me your, "my husband stopped fucking me and started only wanking it to porn" story, this isn't for you, K?
Now, back to porn and jerking off, I am going to assume you don't want to drop what you're doing every time your better half gets a tingle in their down under, right? Yeah? Now, assuming you are not into cock cages and chastity belts (but hey, if you are, more power to you, you do you!) why do you care if your partner is touching themselves? Do you enjoy walking about being the orgasm police? Are you so insecure that every orgasm he has without you is a threat to your relationship? Because you can't sit here and tell me that is healthy.
Its not jerking you say! He is looking at someone else! I should be the only person he is sexually attracted to! How DARE he get turned on by another human body besides my own! Allow me to be a (bigger) asshole for a moment, get the fuck over yourself. Your partner is committed, not dead. I assume you still notice, movie stars, musicians, random people on the street, that cutie who was pumping gas, walking down the street or walked by you in the mall, right? If you don't YOU are the weird one, not your partner. What goes on in someone's head, is truly their own private place, especially in terms of sexual fantasy and love and commitment does NOT entitle you to domain over their thoughts.
AH! But porn is unrealistic! No one looks like that! Women don't really moan/scream/bend/squirt/talk/fuck like that. Well, you are of course, correct, most of us do not. But, sadly, I have had to come to terms with the fact that there are no brad pit look alike immortal vampires living in New Orleans, stalking the cemetery late at night drinking rat blood, and richard gere will NOT rescue me if I go sell myself in the streets of LA. Why? Because I can differentiate between reality and fantasy. Give your partner a little credit, I am sure he knows you can't niagra falls his face on cue....and if he thinks you can, get a new goddamn partner.
Lastly, I understand female exploitation occurs within the porn industry, male exploitation also occurs. However, there are plenty of adults choosing to work in porn, plenty of amateurs voluntarily uploading their own videos, and plenty of legit porn you can watch, so can that argument too, I am not advocating for endorsing teen, child, or abusive porn. But if consenting adults want to fuck on film, especially for money, more power to them.
At the end of all these conversations what I see, are a bunch of ladies with unreal expectations for their men, most of the time, they haven't discussed them with them, or they changed the rules after a commitment was made. I am all for letting your crazy fly before the commitment is made, sex and sexuality are things you need to be in-sync with, in my opinion and if he loves his redtube, and you think its cheating...you're setting yourself up for issues.
Now, stop being mad, and go watch some porn or read some fifty shades and flick the bean....I promise, he won't be mad ;)
Now, let me just say, any behavior that begins to effect your ability to function and connect with other people is BAD, that includes, WoW, crack, food, porn or whatever your addiction is, so OBVIOUSLY this is not about those people, I say this so you can spare me your, "my husband stopped fucking me and started only wanking it to porn" story, this isn't for you, K?
Now, back to porn and jerking off, I am going to assume you don't want to drop what you're doing every time your better half gets a tingle in their down under, right? Yeah? Now, assuming you are not into cock cages and chastity belts (but hey, if you are, more power to you, you do you!) why do you care if your partner is touching themselves? Do you enjoy walking about being the orgasm police? Are you so insecure that every orgasm he has without you is a threat to your relationship? Because you can't sit here and tell me that is healthy.
Its not jerking you say! He is looking at someone else! I should be the only person he is sexually attracted to! How DARE he get turned on by another human body besides my own! Allow me to be a (bigger) asshole for a moment, get the fuck over yourself. Your partner is committed, not dead. I assume you still notice, movie stars, musicians, random people on the street, that cutie who was pumping gas, walking down the street or walked by you in the mall, right? If you don't YOU are the weird one, not your partner. What goes on in someone's head, is truly their own private place, especially in terms of sexual fantasy and love and commitment does NOT entitle you to domain over their thoughts.
AH! But porn is unrealistic! No one looks like that! Women don't really moan/scream/bend/squirt/talk/fuck like that. Well, you are of course, correct, most of us do not. But, sadly, I have had to come to terms with the fact that there are no brad pit look alike immortal vampires living in New Orleans, stalking the cemetery late at night drinking rat blood, and richard gere will NOT rescue me if I go sell myself in the streets of LA. Why? Because I can differentiate between reality and fantasy. Give your partner a little credit, I am sure he knows you can't niagra falls his face on cue....and if he thinks you can, get a new goddamn partner.
Lastly, I understand female exploitation occurs within the porn industry, male exploitation also occurs. However, there are plenty of adults choosing to work in porn, plenty of amateurs voluntarily uploading their own videos, and plenty of legit porn you can watch, so can that argument too, I am not advocating for endorsing teen, child, or abusive porn. But if consenting adults want to fuck on film, especially for money, more power to them.
At the end of all these conversations what I see, are a bunch of ladies with unreal expectations for their men, most of the time, they haven't discussed them with them, or they changed the rules after a commitment was made. I am all for letting your crazy fly before the commitment is made, sex and sexuality are things you need to be in-sync with, in my opinion and if he loves his redtube, and you think its cheating...you're setting yourself up for issues.
Now, stop being mad, and go watch some porn or read some fifty shades and flick the bean....I promise, he won't be mad ;)
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