Remittance Girl

I once had a commenter accuse me of being a sex tourist because I wrote about the sex workers in Bangkok. Because I didn’t condemn it, or belittle them, or rail about the men who used their services.

Now, Elly writes about a movement of ‘feminists’ in the UK who spend their fundraised money fighting strip club licenses and feeling ‘unsafe’ walking in red-light districts.

It sickens me that these women call themselves feminists. That they have in the past, and continue to, use the spectre of male sexual desire as the uber-boogieman in the closet to frighten women into middle-class somnolent ignorance. They see women who don’t reject it and fear it as they do as traitors to the cause.

What I see is a bunch of lazy people who think there is some short-cut to the evolution of the relationship between the genders. Shutting down a strip joint or a brothel, threatening sex workers or their clients with criminal prosecution is NOT going to make violent men less violent. It’s not going to stop the commercial exploitation of female sexuality.

And the scare-mongering bothers me. Here is a quote that Elly pulled from the leaflet of this ‘feminist’ organization’s objection to the licensing of a lap-dancing establishment:

I have lived in Bristol my whole life, and ever since becoming an adult, I have felt unsafe and unwelcome in Old Market, seeing it as a place that is clearly geared towards the sex industry. It is not somewhere where I feel comfortable going or even passing through.

Why? What makes them uncomfortable about it? Wasn’t feminism about women being strong enough to face what really went on in the world? Are we back to being delicate little flowers who shouldn’t know that some women earn their living on their backs? What kind of neo-Victorian crap is that?

And all this drama about a strip club? Good GOD. Do these women even know what living hell looks like? The toxic brick factories full of women in China? The rubbish heaps of Mumbai? The mines in Burma? Do they imagine that there’s some kind of greater dignity to working for less than minimum wage, day after day, in mind-numbing boredom or fearing for your livelihood with each working hour at the whim of some bad-tempered callous employer, or inhaling toxic solder fumes for 10 hours straight? Are we back to believing that prostitution is a fate worse than death?

I’m not saying there isn’t an ugly face to the sex trade, or that it’s the world’s most fulfilling profession, or that it doesn’t come with risks to life and limb. But the criminalization of the sex trade pushes it underground where those risks become far, far greater. I’m not saying that some people aren’t compelled against their will into the profession – they are. But JESUS. Many people in the world are compelled into all sorts of terrible, dangerous, life-eroding, soul sucking professions and prostitution isn’t the only one. Not by a long shot.

I want to leave these ‘feminist’ ladies with this thought. Your prejudice against the sex industry is passed on to your SONS. Who will grow up to see the women and men who work in that profession as lesser beings who don’t matter. So please take your self-righteous indignation and put it to some REAL humanitarian use. We, men and women, have an obligation to try to see all humans other as valuable, worthwhile beings. We’re not there yet, but we can work towards it. And marginalizing sex workers or persecuting their clients is NOT going to lead us there. It is not the act of prostitution that diminishes people’s dignity – it’s society’s attitude towards it.

Kiss me,
but not absently
without yearning for
the touch of my lips
or the scent of my skin.

Touch me,
but not as a tactile assurance
that I’m still here where you last left me,
like a lucky charm
or a well-trained pet.

Tell me
you love me because
something eases in your soul
when you speak the words,
like a hand reaching to touch
or lips that crave communion.

And I swear
I’ll never sink to my knees,
never unzip you,
never slide your cock into my mouth,
just because it’s Thursday and
that’s what we do on Thursdays.

I’ll take you in
like an incantation devoured,
roll the rich words against my tongue,
find new meaning in each
fervent phrase.

My desire
will never forget
to remember why
I want you.

I rarely weigh in on these sorts of discussions because, for the most part, I think people should do what they want to do and what feels good.

However, after Sylvanus posted his blog on his dislike of Hitachi wands, I noticed some of the responses were really quite defensive. In fact, some were fairly dripping with vitriol. ‘How DARE a man tell me how I should achieve orgasm!’ was the undertext of a number of the responses.

Firstly, I will admit that I think Sylvanus sometimes has a bit of an arrogant way of putting things. It’s just the way the guy communicates. And sometimes it gets up my nose. But the post on vibes was, by his standards, quite mild, I thought.

Then, when I wrote a comment on his blog post, supporting his position, I got a flurry of DMs. Some of them quite testy in tone. I was a little puzzled. I thought about it for a while and came to some conclusions.

First, let me make my position clear. I have had a Hitachi used on me – I have never owned one. Once was enough, thank you.

Did it feel good? Not to me. Perhaps I’m too sensitive, or perhaps it’s just a matter of getting used to it, but – besides the ridiculous noise level, as Sylvanus remarked on – I honestly couldn’t tell whether I was having an orgasm or being electrocuted. If it had felt good, would I have a different opinion? No.

There is currently no conclusive scientific data that would indicate that vibrators cause desensitization or nerve damage. There is some evidence of short-term desensitization, but nothing lasting. Before you breathe a sigh of relief on this one, you also need to realize that there is very little research being done on this topic. Like a lot of women’s health issues (including heart disease) much more research has been done on the male of the species than on the female. Moreover, the controversial aspect of doing research of this kind, the attendant legal risks, etc., are such that I still feel there is not enough solid data available on this subject to base your decision on the little that exists.

Lacking good scientific data – one must go with one’s own gut feelings and experiences. So, what follows is my own opinion, pure and simple, based on a number of years of vibrator ownership and varying degrees of uses.

I’ve never had too much of a problem bringing myself to orgasm manually. With reasonable privacy and lack of distraction, I can get there in between 5 – 8 mins. Of course, this varies enormously. If I’m really turned on before I start, I can manage it in under a minute. My first estimation is starting from a sort of neutral mindset.

However, I bought my first vibe about 6 years ago – this was well after someone used a Hitachi on me. In fact, I think I held off buying one for so long, because of the experience I had with it.

I bought something a lot less powerful. Still, I was blown away at how fast it could get me to orgasm. For about 6 months, I had a love affair with it. I used it every time I masturbated. It could get me from absolutely uninterested to a screaming orgasm in no time. I was smitten.

Then one day, I found my batteries had died. I was horny and I wanted to come. I tried to go back to the tried and true manual technique and found it took me a full 20 minutes. I was sore, frustrated and not a little disturbed.

A few days later, I tried again. I reasoned that, you know, some days one’s body is just a little stubborn. But same result: it took me ages, I got hand cramp. By the time I’d brought myself, I was pissed off and sweaty and perplexed. My body had never been this uncooperative before.

Perhaps it was just my body going through a phase, I thought. But no. I replenished by battery supply and used the vibe and, yeehaw, wouldn’t you know it? I came in moments. And what was scarier was, I could feel it. My body had become so accustomed to the vibrator, it felt comfortable and easy and almost instantly gratifying.

That scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to become dependent on a machine for my orgasms. And clearly, whether it was physical or mental, I had become dependent. I could achieve orgasm without it, but nothing like before.

So I decided to really limit my usage of the vibrator – to twice a month. Slowly, my ability to get myself off manually came back. But it took about three months to do it. And let me tell you, it took a lot of discipline not to reach for that vibe.

Now perhaps I’m an anomaly, but I don’t think so: I’ve been able to find too many posts for help on the net from women who are having problems achieving orgasm without a vibe. And yes, I’ve also seen all those articles, supposedly from ‘knowledgeable professionals’, who say that vibes don’t desensitize and don’t make it harder for you to achieve an orgasm manually through masturbation or with a partner. Well, I’m sorry. That was not my experience.

But hell, you might say, who cares if I’m dependent on a vibe?

Well, that’s true and that would be your choice. However, I can think of a number of reasons why you might not want to be dependent:

1. Ever wanted a quick wank in the toilet on a plane – forget it. No plug in and even if you have something battery operated, do you REALLY want to have to take it out and put it in a separate little tray going through security?
2. Although this isn’t strictly applicable to me, as humans we like to be the authors or at least the helpers of orgasms for our partners. Having to use a vibe might affect your partner’s sense of being able to do that for you.
3. Ever hankered for a surreptitious rut or a bit of frottage in a not exactly private place where speed might be of the essence? Well, you can still do that, but how often are you going to want to if you can’t come in that situation?
4. There aren’t many things that are free in life, but self-administered orgasms are one of them. If you have to buy a vibe, power it with batteries or plug it in, it ain’t free any more.

I want to address the issue of partners because I saw some sneering remarks about men with little egos who got shirty because they couldn’t compete with a vibrator. Firstly, I would be a shirty, pissed off lesbian if I couldn’t bring my female lover to orgasm without a vibe. So, please, let’s leave the gender crap out of it. This is not a feminist issue.

There used to be a time when men weren’t expected to ensure the women they were with orgasmed at all. Hell, half the world didn’t even acknowledge that female orgasms existed. Now – and in my opinion: thank GOD – making a woman come has become part of what defines a man as a good lover.

Whether it is true or not, if your lover feels inadequate because he or she can’t get you off without a machine, it’s serious. And I don’t believe it’s just his or her problem. Ultimately, if someone doesn’t feel adequate, you have a serious problem in your relationship. Why court that?

So, I’m sure I have now pissed off a goodly proportion of my readers. Well, you know, I’m up for that. You don’t think you’re addicted or desensitized? Fine.

Here’s my challenge: don’t use your vibrator for two weeks. If you come just as easily, then ignore me: I’m full of shit and you’ve lost nothing.

If it turns out that you do have problems orgasming and this disturbs you – now you know. And the good news is, by all accounts, if you stop using the vibe and be patient and persistent with your hand, your ability to get yourself off manually will return. It just might take a while.

Oh… and yes, I still own a vibrator. A very nice one. I use it on the very rare occasions when I absolutely, positively must get off and don’t have the time to do it by hand. But that’s very rare. I’ve used it about three times in six months.

under a sky the colour of asphyxia
wet heat tugs at my limbs
minutes are hours
wanting gnaws away at flesh
like jewel wasp larvae,
iridescent abominations.

if you were here with me,
we could lie spreadeagled under
the benevolence of a creaking fan
and make up stories of how
it all turned out okay
in the end

but you’re not.