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The Cozy Spot

22 posts categorized "sex frequency"

September 03, 2008

Sex is more than the physical

Is sex all that it is cracked up to be? That's the first question that entered my head after reading the latest headlines. It's quite obvious that abstinence education isn't slowing –not the teenage pregnancy rate, but the rate of teenagers having sex, possibly before they're ready. Are they doing it for the sake of doing it, doing it for love or doing it to fit in or maybe doing it as an escape, no one will ever know, but if current sexually explicit trends and abstinence programs aren't reducing sexual activity among teenagers, then what?

Also, is teenage pregnancy a huge deal? If a government established programs that enable teenagers to cope as young parents, programs that enable them to continue their educations or work options (via apprenticeships or traineeships), how bad could teenage pregnancy be?

Society is strange. The binaries are obvious; a girl is pregnant and she is stigmatized for having sex (to be pregnant – pregnancy as an obvious confirmation of her sexual activity) and viewing pregnancy as an 'undesirable' condition tends to blur the other factor within the biological equation – the fetus or baby. I've seen teenagers (accompanied by parents) at abortion clinics and the teenagers don't look happy to be there, they're terrified. And fine, there is a choice or girls/women have a choice, but let's face it, it's more like an executive decision. Individuals vary; abortion isn't necessarily a decision that curbs future 'mistakes'. There are women out there that view abortion as an easy solution, some women have multiple abortions, and sure that is their choice, but the spotlight is on abortion, not the reasons multiple abortions occur. I've had one abortion, and I wouldn't class it as a happy experience. More like a soul drain. I remember the day vividly, and I remember the post op period; I said to myself that if I had to make that choice again, I'd rather not have sex, which is why the view of 'abortions' being fine and dandy (because most feminists view them as straight medical procedures, like having a vaccination) pisses me off a lot. Let's not forget that many of the most militant feminists, or the most 'loud', tend to be childless so they wouldn't have a clue about abortion (as an experience) or parenthood.

What if abstinence was revamped?

Continue reading "Sex is more than the physical" »

September 01, 2008

Bored After 200 Orgasms Per Day

Sometimes, having too much of anything can lead to boredom. Orgasms included. The below quote came via The Daily Telegraph and News of the World. The articles discuss Sarah Carmen, a woman who is bored simply because the most ordinary thing can bring her to orgasm and having sex with people hasn't provided a panacea for her medical condition:

"Sometimes I have so much sex to try to calm myself down I get bored of it. And men I sleep with don't seem to make as much effort because I climax so easily."

Sarah's condition makes Meg Ryan's diner orgasm (When Harry Met Sally) look like a casual burp. The SSRI link is scary when I think about it because I'm now wondering what will happen when I stop the Zoloft at some point. I've been thinking about ending my relationship with the shrink for a few weeks now, and I'm researching the best way to cease SSRI's - not that I mind the Zoloft, but I can't be arsed returning to the shrink, and forking out cash for a useless appointment, just to receive a script and the last thing I'd need in my life was PSAS as a possible repercussion or side effect; how the hell would I explain that to my son? If Sarah experiences orgasms at the sound of hairdryers, how would I fare? Will a casual play on the Nintendo Wii result in a spontaneous orgasm? I can't imagine how Sarah's 200 orgasms a day provide peace of mind as they'd interfere with work, and just about every other task. If she reacts to loud noises, imagine what her days would be like when she walks on a busy city street. Imagine what would happen near a construction site?

PSAS (Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome) or Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder can be the bane of any one's existence. It may render orgasm monotonous, if experienced 200 or so times a day. I had no idea this condition existed until recently. According to the original article in News of the World, Sarah developed PSAS after being prescribed anti-depressants at the age of 19. Instead of the condition making her life a nightmare (bars and other loud venues tend to bring on the occasional orgasm), Sarah has taken it in her stride, but imagine if this was you? How would you negotiate work? I can imagine how my own workplace would react to the revelation; it kind of makes 'equal opportunity' legislation all the more interesting.

What is PSAS?
Apparently it is unrelated to any feelings or emotions of sexual desire, and relates more to a spontaneous arousal. It was first documented in 2001, and is unrelated to hypersexuality (the PC term for nymphomania) and even though orgasm may provide minor relief, the symptoms are known to return within hours. The causes vary, and the cessation of SSRI's has been linked to the condition. Non SSRI causes include sensory nerve irregularity or pelvic venous-arterial deformities.

If you're interested in reading more about it, you can purchase the PDF copy of the paper via this link here.

May 28, 2007

Buses, iPODs & Plastic Knives

I see someone attractive, a person who hits the right key within, and I immediately think of R rated things. It’s evolutionary, well that’s the reason I’m hanging onto, and when things turn to shit or don’t shift anywhere (even the Twilight Zone will do, God!) I feel like slashing my wrists with a plastic knife, you know, to add more frustration and agony to the mix that played in my head.

It’s not as though I was outright rejected, but nothing happened; I’m living in suspended sexual animation, for Christ’s sake.

It came, or dawned as my earplug fell on the floor and broke, thus ending my iPOD transmission round about 1pm, that I ought to focus on other things (like tending to my domesticated feline) than living on…the fucking hope that someone would ask me out (for shit’s sake).

Do I have to put a sign on my head? Then that god-awful book came into my mind (insert perky North American accent courtesy the Oprah Channel), ‘He’s Just Not Into You, Girl!’

The clock struck five, I headed out to buy myself a pair of earplugs, and almost ended up in tears over the fact that a pair of miniscule earplugs that are made in China put me back fifty smackers, and thought ‘ahh well, may as well go home.’

No, nothing happened. I boarded the bus, and sat there like a moron trying to free the earplugs from the packaging; talk about nouveau security plastic. The guy sitting across me began to annoy me, he was in leg spread mode, relaxing his testicles (something that requires him to take up half the seat next to him, lucky I wasn’t seated next to him or I would have jabbed him in a particular region in his chest that would have set off some referred pain: studying anatomy in my past life can be a good thing, you get to know all the pressure points. Come to think of it I should gain employment as a sadist.) and fixated on his cell phone, text messaging some love struck female no doubt, and I finally freed my earplugs, accidently elbowed the person next to me on the rebound (‘sorry’), and stuck the damn things in my ear. They’re like adult pacifiers. You plug them in and you don’t have to listen to anyone discussing ‘such and such is such a bitch/bastard,’ after office talk on their cell phones.

The music flowed. I needed to up the volume to add a little zing to my tympanic membranes, but the thoughts circled around; each music note transformed into a condor, ready to strike me at any moment. Oh my Christ, I thought. It’s embarrassing really, to think that I sat there feeling absolutely miserable…oh all right; sorry for myself. It’s enough to put my paternal side of the family (a bunch of Maniot-Spartans) to shame; they’d throttle me. I felt like throttling myself, really, but I needed at least a few milliseconds of real agony time, just to give me a break from the ‘you don’t sit there sniveling, give me fifty push ups woman,’ routine or mantra that I usually have.

So I arrived home, making the rush for the electric kettle, and coffee jar, planning on hibernating in my room lessening my life by another five nicotine fuelled minutes; It’s not like I’m going to get laid at any point in the near future. What’s a cigarette? (‘oh yeah Ana, you’re on a self pity junket!’ Woo fucking hoo! Soon I'll outdo Gwyneth's Oscar speech)

The chip off the old block (old, being yours truly) decided to tell me about his day after I ignored him for the first ten minutes. If I approach him straight away, he clams up and tells me he doesn’t want to talk about his school day. Like I said, he’s a chip off the old block; I don’t talk to anyone fifteen minutes upon waking, or fifteen minutes into my arrival home from work.

Getting to the point…a point that took me by surprise, particularly because the little devil is turning thirteen this year. He had an after school date with a gal, at the local fish and chippy!

‘We went and ate some hot chips after school,’ he said, as perky as can be. At the rate he’s going, he’ll probably get laid next year and I’ll be braiding the cobwebs between my legs, in between feeding the cat, enduring housework and hammering the keys on my laptop.

I called him ‘date boy,’ on my way back out to the supermarket, asking him if he needed anything for school, and he didn’t waste time reminding me about my mournful state:

‘At least I had a date,’ said the twelve-year-old smartarse, ‘when was the last time you had a date?’ he asked. I should have named him Lucifer. They tell you practically nothing when they're little babies, they don't tell you that they grow up and talk back.

‘Around the time women wore crinoline skirts, and corsets until their ribs collapsed and they passed out?’

But seriously folks, I would have to be fucking insane to a) date b) fuck like a cock-struck rabbit only to end up (at some distant point in time) pregnant to spend a few hours or thereabouts pushing, to pop out another rugrat who will most likely, in this pathetic dating era of ours, say something like:

"When was the last time you had a date, mum?"

OO-kay, now that I've got that off my chest, it's time to make the little raspberry swirl until I feel like I'm gonna pop a blood vessel. Ciao for now.

May 02, 2007

In Bed with Myself

It’s time to pay a visit to the last time…

B2 Last time I had sex, you ask? The last time I woke up next to an adult male, to be precise. It’s been quite a while, more than two years in fact and I’m not too certain about the embarrassment factor; the idea of sleeping all night, next to a man in a confined space and say, farting, is more embarrassing to me.

That last time I awoke in a car. I didn’t do anything frisky in the car, preferring to engage in the hot stuff outside, on the beach. We returned to the car after a marathon grope and make out session, to chill out and caught some kip. My idea of relaxation or sleep takes place horizontally, not sitting bolt upright in a car seat. I don’t really think about the last time on a daily basis; I don’t mark it off on a calendar. However, this last fortnight I’ve been thinking about it more.

Slightly off topic, but a toe length within it, housemate today decided to show me his latest hobby - adult chat rooms. So many cameras so little time; so many porn clips, and I realized I’d developed tolerance. I go through adult film phases. I’ll be hot, finding them intriguing and raw on an erotic scale, to enter a phase where I’ll feel drained watching, and hearing a ‘oh yeah, yeahhhhhh…ohhhhhhhh….yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,’ and I’ll yell ‘shut up, shut up…shut the hell up!

Continue reading "In Bed with Myself" »

April 17, 2007

Global Sex Satisfaction?

Durex has described Sexual Wellbeing as, “a balance of physical, emotional and sociological factors. It's about protecting and nurturing the sexual health of both you and your partner, getting the most from your sex life and feeling confident and happy about yourself. Sexual wellbeing is a fundamental part of human wellbeing and health.”

Few can really argue against the above definition, and Durex will present its 2006/2007 results at the World Congress on Sexual Health that takes place in Sydney this week.

I nearly fell off the chair when I rolled my cursor over the nations. Could the newspapers be interpreting the results correctly? It was my first thought. According to the survey, Greece has the highest sexual frequency at 87 times a year, whereas Japan as the lowest at 34. Every other country falls between these two scores. Australia comes in at 60, the United States at 53 and the UK at 55. The survey is based on 26,000 online interviews in 26 countries, and it makes an interesting read. Which means that I've gotta migrate to the Mediterranean, because it won't be the Ozone layer/nicotine and caffeine habit that'll kill me...but the dismal sexual climate here in Oz!

Continue reading "Global Sex Satisfaction?" »

February 26, 2007

Liaisons: Exposed

My experience with S more or less led me to the conclusion, which I still maintain today, of the Internet providing another – perhaps easier – gateway to sex. Prior to S, my first older female-younger male thing, I broke the sexual drought with A. I’ve documented that period in parts but I don’t think I detailed the specifics of the meeting and that’s partially due to the stigma attached to meeting people online. Mind, I wasn’t actively dating or perusing online dating profiles at this point, I was still engaged – in what I thought to be – in socializing, and came across A.

Regardless of the rising popularity of online dating, and/or online testimonials of relationship Netdate success, the method isn’t discussed openly. I still blanch each time people ask me questions (within my real world) about my online experiences. I’m not embarrassed, but I am; I feel I could have done better at the time, and that I let myself down by conforming to a particular social fad that’s geared toward making money more than anything else. One seldom hears conversations at the water cooler about virtual dates or online dating sites. The only time people ‘talk’ at length about these types of dates is online, well away from their everyday acquaintances and/or family members. I’ve known friends, who’ve used online personals, but they’d need to have their teeth extracted before they discuss it at length; they’ll briefly allude to it, and change the subject. Other times they’ll downplay that particular phase of their lives (like I used to do), and classify it as one of the most stupid phases of their lives that offered little personal growth and oodles of anguish.

Continue reading "Liaisons: Exposed" »

February 22, 2007

Cherry Pop & Cock-a Cola

I’m not entirely sure what’s worse: having sex for the first time, or encountering a monolith cock. Perhaps both?

The other: How long is a woman supposed to wait until she has sex, and is a long wait a deterrent for some men? Is virginity, at a later than usual age, a burden. Do men avoid virgins that are over their mid twenties out of fear of being seen as the ‘one’? Are there too many expectations?

I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my virginity beyond twenty five. I was seventeen when the cherry popped, and I didn’t tell the guy at the time. He found out in the heat of the moment, and felt like I ripped away his moment of glory. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ were his words, and I’ll never forget the look on his face; the night unfolded without formal ceremonies. He didn’t open doors, and we drank ourselves to the point of absurdity. Alcohol and sex don’t mix well. A little too much alcohol will inhibit the regular processes during arousal, and it can also affect a man’s erection. He was disappointed that I didn’t let him know, possibly because he wanted to showcase his sexual prowess, and a part of me couldn’t blame him.

At some points in life, people do like to play teacher, but he turned out to be something else entirely.

So K Alexander’s first time, at twenty eight years of age makes for an interesting read. It’s not purely about the explicit detail, it’s also about the unexpected events that unfold when the pivotal moment arrives. I’m talking about television remotes. It’s something that has to be read to be enjoyed, and you can read all about it on Sirens.

Following on, penis size can make or break sex. Too small, and that’s where a dildo or vibrator may be necessary. Yes, it’s all about technique you say, but there are some situations where all the technique in the world won’t make a substantial difference in magnifying the sensations accompanying penetration. On the other hand, a gigantic member is the genital equivalent of the Beautiful Person who doesn’t have to do ‘much’ in the sack, who relies on beauty to get by. A huge cock can be a nightmare in this manner; the guy thinks that his cock is the only thing that matters, and maybe that can be partially attributed to every single pornographic example out there, because male actors have to represent a human minority but it’s here to say, and people have to balance their porn with equal doses of reality.

So if you want to read a discussion on cock size, then Christina Bryza’s article is just the ticket.

The above has made up my sex reading for today. I’ve achieved a good balance, and also had time to plunge into Gore Vidal (my brain's hurting now, in a good way

To Cum or Not to Cum

To cum or not to cum, the female orgasm can be elusive for many women when a partner is added to the mix. While many sex therapists advise purchasing vibrators, a vibrator will always outdo human stimulation. Vibrators remind me of downgrading a factory, where robots are added to replace human labor and before people know it they’re made obsolete. Vibrators are about efficiency, and while they work well to confirm a woman’s orgasmic state - in situations where many women think they’re incapable of orgasming - they can also become highly addictive; a vibrator stimulates more nerve endings, sure, but it doesn’t really provide a natural example of sexual arousal.

Continue reading "To Cum or Not to Cum" »

December 18, 2006

"A human being's erotic aptitudes can only be developed where the right atmosphere for them exists, and where the attitudes of both persons concerned are in harmonious sympathy." - Havelock Ellis

  bondi2006 036 
  Originally uploaded by Anastasia..

It was as I was seated, cross legged, on my bed typing and amending text on my laptop that I kind of experienced an insight about myself. I can’t truly classify it an insight, more so a piece of knowledge that lay dormant for a while. For quite a while, I’d feel a type of separation from within. I’d see the issue hovering about, but I’d refuse to reach out and touch it but as days pass, I can’t avoid it.

I segregate my sexuality; the type that has manifest itself through various pieces or stories, is completely separate from my own personal sexual goals or motivations, those that have walked with me in my daily life. On many occasions, within many fictional pieces, many elements are opposite to my own preferences and this makes me comfortable because writing fiction, and basing the foundation of a story on every personal experience leaves little to the imagination. If my sexual frequency decreased years ago, I’d be anguished in some way, looking to rectify that even though many times I’d find myself walking away unfulfilled after various encounters. I’d feel like some type of sexual nomad, or grazing animal who’d wait until next season or pounce on the right moment.

Continue reading ""A human being's erotic aptitudes can only be developed where the right atmosphere for them exists, and where the attitudes of both persons concerned are in harmonious sympathy." - Havelock Ellis" »

December 17, 2006

Spaghetti Sauce in Aisle 5

We were grocery shopping today, walking through each aisle, when I came to a stop, nudged housemate and told him to change aisles.


‘I’ll tell you later…’

His curiosity peaked (it peaks within a minute, he's a natural sticky-beak), kept on nagging me. I was watching a bloke take his time, reading food labels, and housemate shook his head, ‘but we need tomato paste, and pasta…and…’

‘We can get it later.’

‘But we’re here?’

My eyes were riveted on the bloke, only because I didn’t want to cross paths with him. I didn’t want to say hello, didn’t want to get into that ‘so how have you been/what have you been up to?’ type of crap. Housemate’s cluey, and he came right out with it, ‘you know him don’t you?’

Yeah I knew him, I also knew that his mother visit him a couple of times a week to do things like his laundry, and housework because the poor baby – nearly forty at the time – worked, as well as him being curious about anal sex, asking me ten million questions about it before we met and I experienced one of my most horrendous dates.

‘You get the sauce, I’ll meet you in the cat food aisle.’

After a considerable amount of time, as I waited, and kept an eye out, housemate returned with a huge grin on his face.

‘He put a couple of Paul Newman spaghetti sauces in his trolley, and I asked him if they were nice,’ and at this point he nearly burst out laughing, ‘he said he wasn’t sure but his mother recommended them. How old is he forty something?’ (Housemate does pose comments/questions that others avoid, like the time we went to the Mind,Body,Spirit Festival, a New Age 'fair' and he calmly walked up to a Raelian and said, 'Excuse me? I'm an alien.' It can be a barrel of laughs sometimes.)

Then he started laughing, and I went into Mission Impossible mode, navigating each aisle with eyes at the back of my head, lest I bumped into the guy.

Internet dating, for me, has always included its fair share of chaos and I have to admit that I’ve never experienced a positive outcome from such interactions, positive in the sense of them evolving into, what can be termed, functional relationships. Many were fly by nights, some stopped at the first date or meet up, and others chugged along under some sort of pretense. When I compare the two dating eras in my life, pre Internet and post Internet, the pre Internet interactions did have their own fare share of issues, but nothing compared to the post Internet phase I entered.

To search, select and meet a person via a dating site has its own complexities, so I couldn’t imagine going for the big three, the threesome or the more-some. In my mind, it tends to bring to mind a conference, because that’s what it can be like in addition to the one size fits all introductions that some people send out to fuck many birds with one stone, the type of message I liken to the ‘standard response’ that’s popular in the customer service sector.

‘Hi, I saw your profile and I found it interesting. My name is ‘X’, and I’d like to get to know you a little more.’

I was quite naïve about it all in the beginning, this was some years ago, and I’d be a bit stoked by getting a response let alone a nice introductory message. I was newly single, and approached 21st Century dating with a 20th Century mentality. Wrong. It wasn’t until some time passed, after I came across a couple of dickheads who pictured themselves as Casanova types. There was one person I’d go out with, and I decided to test out something, and the only way I could test it out was by creating a second profile. My motivation centered on them, and their proclamations. They were one women men, apparently, and they’d use the usual excuse, ‘I don’t usually use dating sites; they’re not for me. A friend of mine suggested it.’ Like they were above all of that, but they’d log in each day, they’d also pretend to be busy or offline even though many sites display the last log in. Back in the real world, these types bombard with text messages, they’d send flirty emails, and I didn’t think anything of it until I created the second profile, to receive identical introduction messages.

The dating sites offering free membership enable a person to, at little cost, create a second profile to screen online dating addicts. I liken it to a shopping addiction, and many sites are sold on the basis of their convenience. You don’t like a person, click on the next, in fact keep on clicking until you find a two-dimensional bullshit profile that you like.

I had no fear of placing racy profiles that describe my sexual interests on adult dating sites. That’s why they’re called adult dating sites.

Continue reading "Spaghetti Sauce in Aisle 5" »

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