Got Game? Part II

The Hare and the Tiger, Uffe Christoffersen

Read Part I

The Dating Game is notoriously competitive. For those of us who are in it, we know It’s a Jungle Out There. The Pick-Up Artist (PUA) teaches men how to navigate this rocky terrain, but it's not rocket science, folks. Women have been using similar methods in a different form (i.e. feminine wiles) most of their lives. Same tricks, different trade. What Mystery and other pick-up artists have done is turn the game around. Now men are playing while we sit back and watch them, for instance, “peacock” (i.e. dress to impress).

Seduction Theory became increasing popular among men during the 1980’s. I don’t believe this was accidental. If we look at what was happening in the world, especially in the United States, women were finally starting to see the benefits of the activism and energy the Women’s Movement commanded during the 1970’s . As an oppressed group, women finally gained greater sexual freedom and status with court decisions like Roe v. Wade and the passage of the Equal Rights Amendment. The affect of these impressive strides on our society should not be underemphasized.

Because women enjoy more freedom in their new position and have far more options available than before, it was inevitable; our relationships with men had to change too. Men, who were ill-prepared, encountered this new framework of relating and were understandably confused. Hell, to a point, they still are. Should I open a door for her? Should I offer to pay for the meal or share? Should I make the first move or not? Mystery’s method has been successful because he is teaching men what their father’s never did, but should have. (minus his stance on Sluts, which I whole heartedly disagree with)

Mystery and other Pick-Up Artists clearly have found their place in the market place of ideas because there is a demand for it. The boys are hungry, they are willing to devour any information throwin’ their way like a pack of ravenous dogs. Even if the information is incomplete, faulty, or just plain foolish assholery, it helps them relate to women, and of course, score with the babes.

Yet, some men still can't get it right. Last weekend, I was chatting with a new boy when he started to thoroughly bore me. From his, “Can I come over and tuck you in?” to his “One night with me and you’ll see, baby”- I almost threw up in my mouth. Hello, gross. Needless to say, that won’t be happening anytime soon. His stunning wit and impressive verbal skills reminded me of all the cheesy one-liners I’ve been exposed to over the years. See examples below:

Game that’s almost destroyed my faith in humanity:

All you need is a good dick!

Can I watch?

Guy in too-tight sweater leering with Cosmo in hand: “Hey ladies, you from around here?

"This is Tony, my business partner." (referring to the fat old guy to his left) "Can we buy you a drink purtty lady?"

Here’s my card, sweetie, call me. (wink, wink)

Nice Tits! Wanna dance?

And how bout’ the old “Feelin’ On Your Booty” move-
I walk by and he grabs my ass, and I, unfortunately, break his wrist.

And a few other extremely offensive one-liners:

“Do you wash your pants in Windex? Because I can see myself in them.”

and

“Your Daddy must’ve been a thief. Why? Because he stole the stars and put them in your eyes.”

God save me. I’m sorry to subject you to those, dear reader.

Sally’s Tricks of the Trade

One trick I have been using for many years, although admittedly somewhat unconsciously, is to enter a room/dance floor/bar with more energy than others around me. I am, by nature, a high energy person, so when the music’s pumping and I’m in the mood, I hit the dance floor with vigor. I’ve danced in clubs in Paris, Budapest, Prague, New York, and Las Vegas- to name a few- and it never fails…approach with high energy and a bit of sass, and you’ll have a crowd of on-lookers assembled in no time.

Peacocking, or dressing for attention, is highly effective as well. Some critics may say if you have a decent personality you should be able to Work It wearing a burlap bag. Yet, dressing for attention doesn’t have to involve displaying all your naughty bits n’ pieces, there are subtle ways to showcase your style. Be interesting, be captivating, but most of all, be yourself. This is called developing your “inner game” which, when done in tandem with peacocking, is an appealing combination.

Next, don’t forget to activate The Gaze. Since most of my hook-ups have been initiated through eye contact only, Sally has perfected this skill. The trick to a good "fuck me gaze" is to remain mysterious, but penetrating. Size up your object like he’s your next meal and then pounce on him. Men have to deal with an enormous amount of pressure to approach, start a conversation, and make the first move. Most are relieved to let you take the driver’s seat for once.

And last, but not least, Ball Busting. Ball Busting should be done in a flirty relaxed way. A secure man with a sense of humor will appreciate your forward approach. However, if he's a little intimidated by you, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’ll keep him on his toes. On Wednesday night, when I was out with three of my most deliciously hot girl friends, I spotted Thee Sexiest Guy in the Room. Sexy Guy was lurking around our circle when I grabbed his arm and asked him what he was drinking. It seemed like a rather girly cocktail for such a burly stud, so I called him out. We joked about it for a few minutes and then moved on to other provocative topics. Although I was definitely not Thee Sexiest Girl in the Room, Sexy Guy was eating out of the palm of my hand.

And that, ladies, is how it’s done.

Happy Friday. ~Sally S.

Got Game?

After a weekend of sexifying myself in preparation for a number of erotic encounters, I’m ready for break. Sunday is good day to be boring, lazy, and reflective. So, last Sunday, out of either morbid curiosity or procrastination, I flipped on the TV to watch Mystery’s “Tricks of the Trade” on VH1. For those who are oblivious to pop culture references or find pop culture disgusting, bear with me.

The show centers around eight loveable dorky socially inept dudes who have been enlisted to learn the “methodology” of a Master Pick-Up Artist (PUA). Basically, the boys, who at the beginning of the show have no confidence in themselves are, in theory, transformed and should be able to pull their fair share of pussy (or find a serious relationship- *wink wink*) after Mystery’s instruction. At the end of each show, a contestant is eliminated until only one remains. The winner is handed 50k, the title “Master Pick-Up Artist”, and gets to hang/tour with “Mystery”… guru, magician, Libra, and well-known artiste of seduction.

The Kings of Game Throwin’, Spittin, and Tossin’: Matador, Mystery, and JDogg


The Art of Attracting Women

We’ve all heard of the “ladies man” stereo-type. Pick up artists/seduction specialists have been around for a long time. In the past, this closely guarded social network of men resembled a “secret society” of sorts. Now, the public is finally starting to gain awareness about this underground community and it’s becoming relatively main stream.

Some of the techniques Mystery teaches men are basic Tricks of the Trade one should’ve learned early on such as the old “people want what they can’t have”. Mystery advises his protégées to use “time constraints” during their interactions with women, which conveys High Social Value and is apparently what ALL women seek in a mate. By simply stating, “I’ve got a party to go to in a few minutes, I have to leave”, you’ve demonstrated you are in “high demand” and therefore, have High Social Value.

Other tricks of the trade involve giving a beautiful woman a backhanded compliment to knock her off her pedestal and then “stacking” bizarre stories on top of each other to keep her attention after the fact. If she’s not responsive, then one always has the option to “roll out”.

So, do women really fall for this?

According to Mystery and his Wingmen, they do, in droves. The question I was curious about was WHY. In order to find some answers, I logged on to the message boards at Venusian Arts.com (Mystery’s site) under a male pseudo name and started to investigate.

Upon logging on, immediately potential clients are informed they will learn…

• “The fundamental attraction switches in a woman's brain - and exactly how each one can be activated through verbal and behavioral cues. “
• “A precise model of the body-language and hidden verbal cues that people use to convey interest, social value, dominance, sexual receptivity, and more. “

Mystery has posted several times to the boards, along with his cohorts, JDogg and Matador (his Scorpio wingmen). The board is full of advice about baiting, hooking, releasing, running sets, negs, time constraints, and high value body language in order to.. you guessed it, get laid. (or find a Serious Relationship- winking profusely again here.) You can also find charming topics like, “What to do if your girlfriend’s pussy stinks”paired with advice like, “use a cough drop”, if you’re really interested in some high quality wisdom.

However, what I was looking for was The Theory- Game Theory to be exact. What is their basic theory about women? Because in order to claim a title like “Master Pick-Up Artist”, one must at least have a clue about how women function.

What Women Want

The basic premise is women must engage in “plausible deniability” to avoid being labeled.. *gasp*….a Slut, there by reducing their social value. This means women will naturally play the coy little virgin while the stud chases them. The stud, in order to chase effectively, needs to have, in her eyes, High Social Value too. Women pretend they don’t know they are being viewed as an object while The Man allows them to believe it. Eventually, the woman will let her guard down and The Man fucks.

Lovely arrangement, no?

Below are quotes from one of the boards where Mystery’s Wingman instructs wanna-be Pick-Up Artists on Sluts and plausible deniability.

“Sluts Chase. Women will avoid being labeled 'sluts' at all costs because they are at the bottom of the social totem-pole. Sluts in the traditional sense are women whose need for validation is so great that they have gambled away all their buying power trying to fill it. A woman who is perceived as slutty has a hard time finding quality ass because quality ass is likely to screen her. She is a last resort fuck. Not only that, but other women (and men) on their way up the social ladder will step on her, on the way. They will use her to reinforce their own superiority. The 'slut' is a lightning-rod for the 'cement someone's position as below you' method of gaining status. Sad, but true. Some of this seems ruthless; be aware that women aren't thinking about it, when they do it. For most women, this is all pure instinct.”

and

“Because womens' attraction must be sublimated below the level of conscious awareness in order for the plausible deniability system to have any prayer of ending in a lay, women aren't necessarily aware of their own attraction as a sexual thing. When a woman is attracted to you, she feels it as a fascination - even a compulsion - that doesn't necessarily involve any direct thoughts of sex; this is not to say that it has nothing to do with sex, or that she doesn't want sex, simply that practical necessity requires her to cram that undercurrent of sexuality down below the level of conscious thought. Make it a conspiracy, instead; a conspiracy between you and your girl. Hide her from her inhibitions, and your rewards will be many and hot. Be the man. She's not going to.”

As you can see, the whole concept revolves around the old virgin/whore dichotomy and a woman’s “perceived value" as an object for sale in the marriage market. Women increase their value by marrying/partnering up with a High Social Value Male, and therefore, instinctively will seek a man who demonstrates high value.

Is anybody in the mood to start lacing up the old corset? It’s starting to feel positively Victorian around here!

But, do all women want the same thing?

Quick, strike up the chorus for a resounding, FUCK NO!

First of all, not all Sluts are ashamed. And, not every woman wants to get married. Some women, like this one, are just fine on their own and don’t need Virgin Validation from every pathetic self-loathing Tom, Dick n’ Harry. Also, self-proclaimed little Ms. Slutty Sally Sunshine has never been short in the Fuck Offers Department and certainly has pulled some quality ass in her day. So, last resort? I think not. Further, if you’ve got your own wallet and it has money it, Sluts can buy their own shit. We don’t need yours, or your “high social value”, thanks.

Stayed tuned for an upcoming post about “Sally’s Tricks of the Trade” and the ridiculously Lame Game that’s been throwin’ in my direction over the years.

Peace Out, Ya’ll,

Sally S.

DIVINE SEX: SUCKING THE NECTAR DRY

The Orgy: Boris Vallejo, 1980

"My vulva, the horn,
The Boat of Heaven,
Is full of eagerness like the young moon.
My untilled land lies fallow.
As for me, Inanna,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?"

:Inanna to Dumuzi as repeated during Hieros Gamos

SEX AS RELIGION

Orgies have always fascinated me. The reckless abandon with which people give themselves away to others without a trace of regret- the claw-like nails dragging over tense muscular backs, and the loud slapping noises…bodies hitting one another with intense force, sweat running in and out the folds of skin, and the moaning crescendo coming from the mixture of male/female participants echoing down a long hallway- all suit my fancy.

During the Hellenistic period, those naughty Greeks sure knew how to party. Prostitutes were revered and “wife swapping” was common place. Hedonism was sacred in nature and orgies were a religious rite- rather than the morally depraved event they’ve become today. For example, during the sacred sex ritual, Hieros Gamos, a man (often a ruler or king) offered himself up to a High Priestess to join in divine union with her. The union was both for practical and esoteric purposes. The pairing was said to bless the land and people with abundant fertility and was typically enacted during the spring. In a spiritual sense, the ritual induced both participants, especially the male, to reach a higher level of awareness and experience a deeply satisfying religious experience.

All praise the holy vulva!

Auguste (Maurice François Giuslain) Léveque (1864-1921)

ORGIES, I WANT ONE... OR TWO

I have, in a half-joking manner, invited groups of hot singles over for an “orgy on my cement floor” many o’ nights after last call. Maybe it’s the granite walls or the hard floors in my loft apartment, but my offer has never been accepted. What does it take to conjure up a group for some orgiastic fun around here?

Free cookies and punch?

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending an all-girls getaway at a lake cabin. All in all, there were seven people in our group- a perfectly off-balance number to incite some sexual rebellion. My evil plan was craftily constructed to include a drunken Bacchanalian orgy of sorts. Booze, Seclusion, Sex and Song- just the right ingredients. However, I fucked it up, readers. First, as Master of Ceremonies, I should’ve resisted the first ten or so shots of Hot Damn I was offered. Then, in error, I zeroed in my affections on one particular lady, which divided the group. Shortly after, all the couples were tightly locked into their own conversations in their respective relationships. I had to abandon my mission and channel all my seductive energy in one direction.

Bummer.

Eventually, lake cabin girl and I stumbled into an adjacent bedroom. With her on top and me on the bottom I started removing clothes, throwing them in the air and giggling loudly. At some point, another drunk girl jumped on the bed with us. She had just removed lake cabin girl’s shirt and was rubbing my pussy when her girlfriend opened the door.

Busted.

The Girlfriend yelled her name and she quickly climbed off the bed and ran out the door after her to do some damage control. Although, I was excited to fuck lake cabin girl, as soon as our third partner in crime left, my pussy all but dried up. Wouldn’t it have been great if Girlfriend would’ve stripped down and jumped in bed with us? One can always dare to dream.

However, I do realize non-stop frolicking through The Garden- touching, touching, touching -everything in sight can be tiresome, which is why periods of rest or abstinence are necessary. Even those crazy Greeks knew when to give their chapped lips, engorged pussies, and sore dicks a break.

Happy Friday~Sally S.

“Inanna, your breast is your field.
Your broad field pours out plants.
Your broad field pours out grain.
Water flows from on high for your servant.
Bread flows from on high for your servant.
Pour it out for me, Inanna.
I will drink all you offer."

:Dumuzi to Inanna as repeated during Hieros Gamos

Throw away your tampons today!

Poison Skull: Camille Rose Garcia

Attention: Tampons are associated with Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS). TSS is a rare but serious disease that may cause death. Read and save the enclosed information.

This was the message found on the generic box of tampons I bought last week. I looked through the box for the “enclosed information" on TSS, but could not find it. I probably threw it away without realizing it. In fact, in the fourteen years I’ve been menstruating, I’ve never read that damn insert. But really, who has?

I’m not sure how I first heard about TSS. It certainly wasn’t during sex ed or from some other authority on the matter. But, I do remember as a teenager how terrified I was upon discovering I had accidentally left two super absorbency tampons in my pussy overnight. TSS was somewhat of a urban legend in the early 90’s, most young women had “heard of it”, but were far removed from it, as in “that’ll never happen to me.” Yet, in the early 80’s, it was reality women faced.

In 1975, Procter & Gamble introduced a tampon brand called Rely. The tampon brand was made from compressed polyester beads and was supposed to “catch” more blood than the average tampon by gradually forming to the vagina’s natural shape. The tampon could absorb more than twenty times its own weight in menstrual blood. However, upon removal of the tampon, it was said to dry out the vagina by eliminating its natural humidity AND creating microscopic tears in the lining of the uterus. TSS is a bacterial infection and thrives in this type of environment, thus, cases of TSS increased dramatically among women who used the Rely brand.

“It even absorbs the worry!”

Procter & Gamble chose to market their product with the slogan above for a reason. Since menstruation is a taboo topic and a source of shame for women, psychologically, they played on our fear. The message society sends women is, “Ladies, lock it up (plug it up), keep your bloody twats out of our sanitized world.”

Harsh, no?

But anyone who’s spent the night at their boyfriend’s apartment while menstruating knows what I’m talking about. Have you ever sprinted to the bathroom in the morning because blood was seeping through your underwear only to bleed all over his toilet seat, bathroom floor, and your fingers? Did you thoroughly check each tiny crevice to make sure you wiped up every spec of blood? Did you wash your finger nails meticulously so all signs of “the red” were gone? And finally, did you wrap your cardboard applicator up in a piece of tissue paper and hide it in your purse, mentally noting to remove it before work?

Been there, done that.

Although super absorbency tampons are evil, I must say, they allow me to experience my period relatively hassle free. There’s nothing worse than walking out of your office to meet a client while warm gooey Niagara Falls runs down your leg because your heavy flow is not suited for a “lite day” pad or tampon. The problem is, however, TSS has been associated with the use of super absorbent tampons. Yet, some days I would prefer death to standing in a room filled with thirty college students while my panties and inner thigh are soaked with blood. Wouldn’t you?

But, ultimately, I would like to avoid death, at least until my first lunar return, so, what are my alternatives?

1) The Diva Cup- a silicone cup that catches blood in-flow, the cup can last for 10 years and it eliminates the risk of TSS!

2) Re-usable cloth (hemp) pads (aka: crunchy granola hippy method)

3) Sponges

Since I’ve only used regular old tampons, I asked a friend, who recently purchased a Diva Cup, to expound upon the virtues of The Cup. Thanks friend! ~ Sally S

I’ve always despised pads. I find it quite horrible to have a damp (large) lump of cotton wool stuck against your pussy and have to walk around like that for hours on end. I mean, OK, I’ll put up with having my period every Eff-ing month of my life, but please let it be as comfortable as possible. As you’re all probably very aware, it’s often quite painful so if I can avoid it being messy on top of that, I’ll sign up right away.

So, I quickly switched to tampons. But, honestly, I don’t really like those either. They have a tendency to absorb every soupcon of liquid, leaving your pussy feeling like a dried up prune and it takes days before your natural lubrication is back on track.

All in all, pads are out (even though, I’m back there – read on) and tampons… well, they seemed like the only alternative.

By the way, I saw a program on TV about “flushers”. Ha, what are flushers, I hear you inquire? They are men (yup, no ladies in that line of business) who shovel poo in the bowels of the city. Honestly, they do exist!! Their main problem seems to be women’s menstrual products. I’m sure most women flush their tampons down the loo, but it seems like quite a number of us also flush the cardboard inserters down there as well. I’ll spare you the details but the flushers aren’t happy about this situation… and I’m sure mama earth ain’t too happy either.

While I was living in the US, I discovered something reminiscent of the Diva Cup, “Instead Softcups”. Like the Diva Cup you can wear them for up to 12 hours, but the difference is that they aren’t very durable. In fact, they aren’t meant to be used over and over again, like the Diva Cup which can be kept, it seems, for up to 10 years!

So after some internet searching (What, Oh what would we do without the internet, I ask you?), I finally discovered the diva cup and even though I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet – which means I have to use the dreaded pad as a security measure – it is definitely a lot more sensible in all respects. If correctly inserted, (that’s where the getting-the-hang-of-it comes in) it really is as comfortable as a tampon. Now… bear with me… by correctly inserted, I mean, not leaking. Even if you don’t insert the thing properly, it’s still comfortable, despite it being rather huge. The problem is finding the right positioning. The leaflet explains exactly how it must be done and in theory it doesn’t seem very complicated. I have been using the diva cup for two cycles now and I think I’m slowly but surely starting to understand how it’s supposed to be done. I might still have to resort to pads for a few months to avoid having a bloodstained chair at the office, but I’m sure practice makes perfect.

The part which most if us fear, is the removal of the diva cup. You’re meant to empty it in the toilet, rinse and then reinsert. So, what do you do when you’re in a public toilet or at the office? I haven’t found this to be a problem because you can safely leave it where it is all day, so you insert in the morning and remove it in the evening. It can all be done in the safety of your own home! It isn’t half as messy as you would imagine, anyway. And if you really run into an emergency, you can wipe it with toilet paper and reinsert too.

The beauty of this thing is that you can keep yours for a long, long time. Reusing it over and over again… for years on end. It’s made of surgical grade silicone. Non-irritating and very durable.

Funny thing is, it seems like the concept has been around since the thirties!! It’s the pharmaceutical industry that aggressively pushed tampons/pads into the public realm and the diva cup, or whatever it was called at the time, simply lost the battle.

I’d like to recommend this clever little device. It’s good for you, your pussy, and mama earth.

One bit of advice though. Do not leave your diva cup lying around if you have cats. I had to order a second one after my cat got hold of the first one. He thought it was a great toy, chewed it to bits and I found its remains on the living room carpet.

The Miracle of Menstruation

“There is another kind of death that is pregnant with more viable meditations- if you’re a woman. It typically occurs once in every orbit of the moon around the Earth. When you menstruate, a specialized cell in your body, the only type of cell capable of spawning a new creature, begins a quest for a larger life- only to fail in its mission and disintegrate. This is a death that is more shocking to the body than digestion and oxidation, and therefore more palpable to your imagination. It even generates a symptom that in any other situation is a dramatic sign of rapidly ebbing vitality: loss of blood"
-The Televisionary Oracle, Rob Brezsny

Readers, today I got my period.

I feel buoyant, optimistic, and ready to take on the world. Really, I do! Every month I look forward to menstruating with the renewed excitement of a little girl on the first day of school. And, it’s not because I’ve been having unprotected anonymous sex with strange men, contrary to popular belief. I just enjoy reveling in womanhood, contemplating the strange efficiency with which our bodies operate, and yes, feeling about five pounds lighter after the fact.

For me, menstruation represents the connection to my innate femininity and trust in it. As women, we are often told by doctors, nutritionists, fertility specialists, gynecologists, and yes, society, how our bodies should look and what we should feed them. Yet, there is a simple truth vibrating in each one of us and that is our body’s own natural rhythm.

Over the years, I began notice the subtle patterns and fluctuations during my cycle. I usually follow a regular 27-28 day schedule, so on the twelfth day I start to feel the beginning stages of ovulation as my body prepares itself. My dreams intensify and my appetite increases. I also experience quite a few of the physical signs of ovulation. For instance, my body temperature rises a few degrees, which is usually accompanied by a hot flash or two. However, the most obvious sign of ovulation, and when the likelihood of a pregnancy is highest, is when vaginal mucous secretions resemble snot- sticky, rubbery, stretchy, and goopy. If you’ve ever pulled a long string of it out of your vagina during ovulation and let it slide between your fingers, you know what I’m talking about. This is the moment when fertility is at its peak. Cervical Mucous Monitoring is actually a pretty good way to keep track of the fertility “window of opportunity” if one is diligent.

Finally, about fourteen days after ovulation, my period arrives with fanfare, drums, and celebration. The few days right before my period are always interesting. Typically, I have dreams which are psychologically taxing but necessary. I’ve entered the shaman’s territory here. The dreams are vividly clear, lucid, in fact, and they hold the key to a problem or question I’ve been stuck on. Subconsciously, during dreamtime I receive, in abundance, the wisdom and direction I’m seeking. It’s at this time; I know I’ll shed the first few drops of blood soon.

One of the most beautiful experiences with a female lover I’ve ever had has been the times when cycles synch up. Our bodies have truly touched one another’s. Our chemistry has been altered and now our bodies move in unison. Ladies, even if you've never slept with a woman, you know how it goes. If you live with a group of women long enough cycles have a tendency to mirror each other. With my last lover we experienced this phenomenon, although we didn’t live together- we fucked- a lot. Juices mixed and mingled often, so it was no surprise when I got my period two weeks early on the same day she did. This is the magic chemistry of our bodies in action.

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all howling at the moon and tasting menstrual blood fun. Many women have indicated if given the choice they would gladly stop menstruating if it was medically possible. Now, I realize not every woman is in love with their body’s natural functions. In high school, I had a friend with a severe case of endometriosis. For her, menstruating was a “curse” and not a beautiful reflection of womanhood.

I’ve also had some not so nice experiences during my period as well. For example, when I accidentally inserted a second tampon in my vagina, forcing the first one so far up I had to claw it out with my free hand while I held my leg back with the other. It didn’t help I was only fourteen years old at the time. I had slept with both tampons in overnight and was positive I had toxic shock syndrome the next morning. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson, but when I was sixteen, I had sex with tampon in. It’s not that I forgot I had my period or was drunk, I have no excuse. I was sober and can only claim that I was horny. I spent the next hour in the bathroom fishing for the string under a fluorescent light. Needless to say, I finally learned my lesson, take it out first.

Hey, Happy Friday.

Cheers! (raising a metaphorical glass of menstrual blood to my lips)

~Sally S.

Masturbation, Self Love, and Relationships

Nu Allonge by Jean Berque

There’s no limit to my love.

Last week, The Green Man elevated our discussion about jealousy to another level when he revealed his feelings about compersion (compassion for another’s pleasure).

Compersion is the opposite of jealousy, or the soothing balm one can apply to confront and heal jealousy. The root of a compersive relationship with another is self love. Self love is a term that is thrown around in psychiatric communities and within “new age” movements and spiritual practices. Yet, when we attempt to move beyond the clichéd expressions, we are at a loss

We've all heard saying, "You cannot love anyone else until you love yourself." And even if we intellectually agree with it, we see people (and maybe ourselves!) who don't have a healthy concept of self love moving from one relationship to another in serial monogamy type secession. Many of these people are so wounded and vulnerable; they throw the entirety of their broken selves into relationships, which, in the end, becomes a collision of dysfunction. And so it is, without self love we constantly submerge ourselves in one unhealthy fixation after another.

An Infantile State of Dependency

Yesterday, I babysat my niece while my sister was out. And since she was a little fussy before mom left, we decided to do everything in our power to calm her down. We fed her, changed her diaper, gave her a small dose of children’s Tylenol (she’s teething) and rocked her for awhile. However, when mom left she still cried, wailed, in fact, while I looked at her with a desperate expression and mumbled out loud, “What do you want kid?”

Anybody who has children understands this situation perfectly. The child wants something, they are obviously suffering, but what do they want? Unfortunately, even with parents who are incredibly nurturing and positive, there will be times when the needs of the infant/young child are not met. This, of course, doesn’t account for toxic environments where physical, emotional, spiritual, or sexual abuse is present. Also, there are varying degrees of need. Some children require a lot of tender loving care and some require less. We’ve all heard stories about babies who are “good sleepers” while other are “excessively fussy” or colicky.

Then, look at the flip side. Some parents are comfortable showering their children with love and affection while other parents may be cold and remote, much to the child’s dismay. The child’s needs may not match what the parent(s) are able to give/receive and vice versa. These mismatched patterns of relating lay the foundation for dysfunctional relationships later in life.

The Masses of Disillusioned Lovers

We remember, on a physical and soul level, our experiences as infants, both inside and outside of the womb. For some, the umbilical cord is tied tightly for their entire lives. They are mother-bound, unable to cut and heal the ties from their past, so they turn to romantic interests/partners to fill the gapping hole. “The gapping hole” in adult relationships sits wide open as we submerge and isolate ourselves desperately trying to fill it up (heal it up). We ask our partners anxiously, “What do you want?” and hope we can be everything they ever needed. Eventually, the bottom falls out. We discover our partners aren’t the evolved/loving/nurturing models of perfection we thought they were.

So, where does self love flourish and compersion begin after the disillusionment sets in? Is it in these needy black holes of emotional relating? Or, does it come from within ourselves, our connection to the divine? I remember awhile ago taking a survey and one of the questions’s asked, “Are your parents still together?” And my brain immediately fired back, “I am my parents.” This is the space we must occupy. We cannot expect as adults that lovers, friends, or family be “quasi-parents” by filling each passing need, sexually or otherwise. First, we must be a self-contained loving entity within our own right.

In other words, “I love myself, and want you to know it.”

Sexually, self love cannot be discussed without paying proper respect to masturbation. Masturbation, we are told, is now healthy. However, anybody who grew up in the Catholic Church may have been shamed into believing differently. I know a guy, who, at the age of thirty still experiences considerable agony and guilt after pleasuring himself and he isn’t even Catholic!

Personally, I’ve always been a chronic offender. I have many early memories (5-6 years old) of the extra long baths I would take with my legs propped up against the bath tub’s edge with my clit angled right under the water stream. Another friend explained how she got off on her “blankie” using the buttons on it as friction to rub one off around the same age. If we look far enough back into our histories, we can probably all find some evidence of these early experiences. One would assume, then, by the time we reach adulthood, we’d be relatively comfortable with masturbation, both on our own time and with partners. However, that may not be the case if we weren’t raised in a supportive environment and felt we had to “hide” it from others.

I remember the first time someone busted me masturbating. I was in 9th grade, and by then, I was a pro. I even had a little massager, which I used religiously, until the thing broke- probably from over use. Anyway, on this rare occasion, the small apartment I shared with my mom and sisters was empty after I returned home from school. It was warmer than average for April, so my sister had propped the window open, even though the blinds were drawn shut. I pulled off my pants quickly and grabbed my vibrating toy.

Now, my toy was not that loud, but evidently the fifteen year old neighbor boy walking by my window heard it. Oblivious, I continued to pleasure myself. Ten minutes later, I was on the way to my second orgasm when I heard the sound of hushed laughter and tapping outside my window. I threw my toy under my bed, put my pants back on, and ran outside to survey the damage.

It was bad.

A group of three teenage boys stood next to window pointing and laughing at me. The neighbor boy, upon hearing the dull buzz emanating from window, called over a few friends to witness the spectacle. Readers, I was horrified. Not only did I have to see these boys in the hallway of my apartment building regularly, but at school as well! They showed no mercy, and promptly spread the word to every available ear.

Today, I still sporadically see Mr. Peeping Tom and his cohorts around town, and each time I have the urge to disappear or die, which just goes to show how powerful and persistent these attitudes are.

Too often in our relationships self love takes a back seat to humiliation, shame, and abuse. Since self love is the cornerstone of compersion and non-jealous attachment, we need actively seek partners for whom self love is a priority. If mutual self-loathing and desperation are the only reason we find one another and stay together, I’d say we need a better map. And soon.

Stay tuned in for a rousing discussion about mutual masturbation in the near future.

Eroticism & Jealousy -A Radical Perspective, Part III

Readers, I have a special treat for you. The Green Man has decided to bestow some of his blessed wisdom upon us as our jealousy discussion continues. I asked The Green Man to shed some positive light on the subject, since I’ve got the negative end covered. Mr. Green, who is no stranger to suffering, offers a new paradigm to contain our jealous feelings while practicing a loving philosophy called compersion.
Listen and Learn. ~Sally S.


The idea of my lover fucking someone else turns me on. It's a sure-fire way to get my attention and get me off, hot and heavy, on a soul level. Knowing your lover, or former lover, is fucking someone else, perhaps right at that moment, is to indulge in a state of surrender. Surrender to loss is one of the deepest emotions humans face. It is during these moments that I have learned to eroticize jealousy.

It was a discovery I made in the process of exploring sexuality with different lovers, often in polyamorous situations, that is, situations where more than two lovers were involved. There were situations where I was the party causing the jealousy in my partner; other times, I was under the spotlight, showing the face of my feelings, my hunger, my ripping loss not only of another being sexually unavailable, but craving her knowing she was craving someone else. There were some difficult times.

Yet, if art has in some way romanticized agony, one of its sweetest forms is accepting the penetration of my lover by a different person.

I say it was a discovery; one that was made when my female lover became lovers with a mutual friend of ours. I spent many hours witnessing what only women can give to one another. The agony was I could not be them, and I could not feel their journey from the inside. But I could see, and feel, and smell, and I could also cum in front of them solo, which is an incredible release. At other times, I would fuck one, or the other, as her partner watched. This is taking jealousy and slipping into it like a natural hot spring bath. What made the water even hotter was that they were falling in love. It was not merely about sex. I was confronted by their passionate adoration of one another, expressed as an erotic friendship.

In place of jealousy, it was in this situation with two women that I learned compersion directly. Compersion is when you get off on another person's pleasure and love in a deep way. It is part learned skill and part natural gift. It’s what I felt when their being together was SO beautiful, no matter how jealous I may have felt, the erotic satisfaction of my longing made the beauty even deeper.

Now, maybe I make it sound easy. In a sense it is, but that doesn't mean it's not challenging to learn. Jealousy is primal and directing it creatively is a little like riding a dragon.

A lot of the story is how we handle the jealousy of others: can we stand it, for instance? If you live on this planet and have any fun, people are going to be jealous around you. Thus, you have to understand how to handle jealous people. The method is "carefully," and personally, I choose to avoid people for whom jealousy is an unconscious or seriously unresolved issue. There are two kinds of jealous people: those who use the word and those who don't. If someone is using the word, they are holding the key to freedom, which is awareness.

Last night was my final night with my lover before she went to visit another lover, whom she has only seen three times before. We did not so much have sex as a sex ritual. I masturbated in front of her, while we talked about how they were going to fuck, how she wanted him, and how I encouraged her to let go with him. I penetrated myself as we talked openly about how he would penetrate her. She studied me curiously and compassionately. And when I went deep into my pleasure, she was a steady witness. I finally ejaculated into her cupped hands, kneeling up and seeing myself in a large mirror. She saw my face as I was looking. I knew from this she was starting to feel the first hint of compersion for me.

As I write now, they are together. I feel good; I am curious, I miss her and it's also very nice to be alone. She and I have played the fantasy scenario of her with him a number of times, and reached some beautiful places.

This morning when I took her to the bus, we parted in joyous love with a hint of sadness. I knew how horny she was for him. I whispered in her ear, from my heart, "Have fun." Secretly, we both knew she could fall in love with him.

Yours in sweet agony,
The Green Man