Sex-positive culture site | AreYouShaved.com

“Get the fuck over there!”

My girl-friend hollered, her grip firm around my bicep. I looked back at the empty stools at the bar where I’d just been pulled away from. It was 2:30 a.m. and the bar owner and a friend escorted some ass I’d just gotten into a heated argument with from the bar in East Atlanta Village, the patrons quiet and with puzzled looks on their faces. Questions lingered.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

My friend was back at my side and not very happy. She was a regular there and knew the bartenders well. I was, in short, a representation of her and the rest of my friends there. I’d kept that in the back of my mind the entire time.

“I didn’t do anything! That douchebag called me a cunt and whore! Fuck him.”

**                           **                           **                           **

Last night I went out with my friends after a night of cocktails and singing along to The Selmanaires perform live at the Highland Ballroom Lounge in Atlanta, where I ended up talking about sex with these two dudes at a bar. To give you the play-by-play in a nutshell, they overheard me talking about the show I’d gone to, which lead to music talk, which lead to one of them saying he was in some local band once-upon-a-time, and then somehow me being a freelance writer/blogger came up. He asked me what I wrote about and I answered honestly: “Sex.”

Essentially, from there this dude asked me what exactly I meant by that and what was the purpose of it all. I explained to him that I think it’s really important for our mental and physical health if practiced responsibly, open-mindedly and honestly. My main point being that too many times we suppress our true sexual selves, impart due to fear of judgment by our partner, the prospect of being shut down and the sad admittance of our partner not being down with what you “are” or “are not” into.

Therein lied the altercation, I suppose. I said that I find that all too often, men pair up with a girl they can either take home to mom, or is really great on paper, or they really do love dearly, but unfortunately, are not satisfied by sexually. My point was that the signs are often there from the beginning, and yet people choose to ignore them, thinking it’s wrong to put that much importance on sex. I, however, see it very differently. I think that sex is a natural human instinct which is hard to suppress, and more often than not, never will be suppressed.

That, if “X” sexual practice is really important to you, then your partner should be someone who is also into “X,” because, I don’t care how great love is, people’s eyes and minds wander and many end up cheating. Except, like I said, the signs were there from the beginning and they chose to ignore it. You shouldn’t try to pressure your partner to do something or make them feel prudeish for not doing something, and similarly, your partner shouldn’t make you feel like a weirdo because you like “X.”

Well, this douchebag didn’t agree with what I had to say, apparently, and made it very clear in the manner in which he spoke to me. His friend kindly reminded the tool — who now got up from his chair and stood with his beer between me and the other dude sitting at the bar — to calm down and that everything was good. I don’t really remember in what context he said it, but at some point he said “girls like you are the reason [blah blah blah],” I don’t really remember, but I think what he meant is that I was a bitch for saying that I’ve always dated great guys [True.], but that I was so over “nice guys” [Also true.] My statement was merely saying that I desired a man with more of a Type-A Personality as opposed to a Type-B, which I suppose he took to mean that nice guys weren’t worthwhile or something. I’m not really sure.

In any case, he ended up asking me, “What would you say if I offered to take you out on a date to sushi?” When I said I’d decline, he seemed taken-aback and became hostile.

Him: “What the fuck? You won’t even give me a chance? You probably date pop-collared douchebags.”

Me: “You clearly don’t know anything about me.”

Him: “C’mon, just one date.”

Me: “No. It’s nothing personal. I go to school full-time, I have a blog I haven’t even written for lately, and I try to freelance on the side. Plus, I’m already dating. I don’t have time to do anything else.”

Him: “Ooooh. Miss I’m-So-Busy. You know I’m in grad school.”

Me: “Good for you. That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Him: “What, just because I won’t jizz on your face you won’t go out with me? ‘Cause I’m not a pop-collared douchebag? I was in a band, I was in the Marines, I’m in grad school.”

Me: “I don’t care what you were, or are, into, not only am I not going out with you, but you can’t talk to me that way.”

Him: “Fuck you. You come in here in skirt and talk about sex and, fuck you cunt. You fucking whore.”

Me: “If I was a whore I’d be sucking you off in the bathroom now, or going home with you. Evidently, I’m not even going on a date with you. You better watch what the fuck you’re saying before something happens.”

Yeah. Super classy gentleman, right? I mean, how could a girl resist a charmer like this!

By the end there he spoke loud and in my face, and, while I believe I remained somewhat calm throughout his tantrum, the alcohol certainly kicked in to reveal my Latin ways, now standing, hand on hips, finger waving through the air like Rosie Perez.

One of my favorite lines of his is when he said, “You come in here in skirt and talk about sex…” And this is the part I found disagreement with among my friends. When asked “What the fuck [I] did?” I answered “Nothing!” because I really felt like I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought I was having a sincere and frank discussion with a mature, grown man, when really I was talking with a child.

But, according to friends, I shouldn’t have been talking to him about sex anyway. Which, I mean, it’s what my blog is about. He asked me what it was about, and I answered, and it escalated, but how is that exactly my fault? It’s  my fault a grown man can’t have an adult conversation? That’s almost like saying, “Oh, well, it’s no surprise she got raped. After all, she was wearing a short skirt.” (With, obv, a little less drama then that statement.)

And I say that, because he pointed out that I was wearing a skirt, as if that was indicative of anything of real substance. Yes, I wore a short, black skirt, but it wasn’t anything revealing or provocative. Secondly, no cleavage. Not a fan of it in general, for reasons like this. Too much power so breasts possess, that intelligence and seriousness are often lost. Thirdly, from the moment I began talking to this dude, never did I flirt. I wasn’t teasing him. My tone and body language showed absolutely zero indication that I was interested. The conversation was serious and not done “on the sly” on my end to try and bed him.

But really, I think it’s shameful that a woman cannot talk about sex with some men and be taken seriously. My parents and friends sometimes worry I’m pigeonholing myself in writing about the topic, but, like I’ve said, I think it’s important and I think that it’s beautiful and now doesn’t mean forever, right? And when people ask me what my blog is about, what am I supposed to do, lie? I guess. I mean, that would smart. That would be safe. But then it defeats the whole purpose, does it not? To back down from a conversation where something — who knows — could be learned from?

Furthermore, why exactly would I have to lie? Why is wrong for women (people, really) to talk about sex? Still in today’s day-and-age? Ridiculous. Absurd. We’re all grown ups! Every time the topic comes up with other people, it’s usually a really cool conversation, and some people share more intimate details than others, but every time I learn something new and often enjoy the conversation.

And for me, personally, I’m just a regular gal. I usually wear t-shirts and jeans and my Chucks with barely there makeup. When I go out I get dressed up, but I hardly project “hoochy” material. But I’m also aware that because I write about sex, people will are going to assume “X” things about me. “X” could be numerous things, really, but one of them undoubtedly among some is that “writing about sex” translates into “easy,” which is a complete and utter fallacy.

I made my niche, so I can’t bitch, but my point is to keep the conversation going, in the hopes of maybe redefining the terms. Because in this case, it wasn’t just my mother’s generation that thought I was out of line, it was also my very own generation — people from the mid-20s to mid-30s. And really, I am just surprised is all. I thought we were past all the name-calling and finger pointing. Not to mention, saying “What can you expect from the dude? You gave him a boner and then said no,” kinda sells men short, don’t you think? Like a man doesn’t have the will power to behave himself? C’mon now.

And I know, I know — my 125 lb., 5′2″ ass should have been smarter than to let my inner Rosie Perez take over me and have me get all up in his face, fingers painting the air with angry strokes, chest puffed out like Napoleon. But what can I say, I had two of those riDICKulous delicious gin martinis earlier (Ayyy!!), and there’s just no way you’re going to call me a cunt to my face and not expect me to call your bluff. Still, ever grateful I was that the argument didn’t go the Jersey Shore route, my face being clobbered like that of the-carrot-colored Sooki (sp?).

In any case, it was a wonderful night, which ended super interesting, even if it was sad to realize that there are men out there like that. But I want to hear what, those of you who have actually read this whole thing and made it this far (hi!) think about everything. Did I miss something? Please, do tell.

And for whatever it’s worth, after my guy-friend and the owner escorted the douche out, the guy ended up calling my friend a “sand n*gg*r.” So yeah, sounds like a great guy. I can’t believe I didn’t give him my number. He could have been the one.

And to lighten things up, here are the men of “True Blood” – Alexander Skarsgard, Ryan Kwanten and Stephen Moyer — in the May 2010 issue of Details Magazine. Ryan is too much of a pretty boy for me too drool over, but Stephen Moyer oozes sex.

Image sources: Dlisted, Details Magazine