An American Oedipus

In the early 20^th century there was some form of a “lesbian” movement. Women partook in intense friendships with one another that developed into some form of physical relations and before long they were living a happy men-less life together. Very Kissing Jessica Stein.

These intense homogeneous friendships have been documented throughout history as lesbian relationships. And while I have very little (O.K, zero,) experience in a lesbian relationship, I can’t help but question if that was in fact was these women were experiencing. Two people (women in this case) clearly bonded very strongly on an emotional level. And this emotional level was so intense, that they were looking for another way to express it, to further develop it. To have some kind of tangible evidence of the bond they share.

But is that sex? If sex is about expressing a friendship, then why is the term “friendship” literally interchangeable with the word “platonic?” Isn’t sex about expressing the tangible, the physical, and not trying to personify a platonic bond?

Since then, Americans have experienced the black and white “I’m-wearing-his-pin” relationships of the Eisenhower era, the spontaneous free love of the hippies and the “fuck-whoever’s-at-the-club” attitude of the sexual revolution.

Many feminists say we’re regressing back to the gender roles of the fifties, and I do see some truth in that. But I think a younger generation of feminists can see that we’ve gone back even further.

We are fucking our friends.

There, I said it.

We are fucking our friends because they’re there, we trust them, and we care about them. But does that mean we should have sex with them? I mean we trust and care about our family too, but even Oedipus didn’t mean to screw his mama. So what makes us think this is a good idea? What makes us think this is any less taboo?

I don’t know if it has a historical name yet, but we’re in a sexual movement. We are in a cluster-fuck of fuck-buddies.

Maybe we should just poke our eyes out.

Are Friends-With-Benefits Female Friendly?

Living in New York, I have found that along with bubble tea, relationships are quickly becoming a craze of the past. They have since been replaced with the "fuck buddy", or the slightly classier "friend-with-benefits." Right under my nose I see that endearing pink-wearing relationship-lover spend a saturday night under the covers with an old friend. I see a hand-holding, flower-buying boyfriend-type suddenly keeping tally of how many girls he can get to pull down his pants in a week. 

But here's the thing.

For some women, this is nothing new.

For some ladies of New York, this is not a change in tide. It's more like a lazy river. Still flowin' after all these years.

She never had an actual relationship with a boy. But most of her friends from high school were boys. And most of her friends from high school had bumped lips with her at some point. 

oops.

But what about when that sixteen year old grows up, moves out, and suddenly it's not just about bumping lips anymore. Suddenly it's about bumping other things. She doesn't know what a relationship is so she sticks to what she does know. Only this time the terrain is a little rockier and the stakes are a little higher. A lot higher. 

She wants to believe that men can be good and that they care. So who better to turn to then a male friend? The closer the friend, the more you care about each other, right?

But maybe it isn't that simple. Maybe there is something special about a platonic hetero-male-female relationship that could get lost. That can't be regained once the eh...bumping occurs. After all, once it happens it's out there. Like riding a bike- you never forget. And no matter how much time you take off, there's always that silent option of jumping back on to ride it again. 

Don't get me wrong, you can gain something from the experience. It can certainly have its perks. And at the of the day, it isn't even the fear of what may have been lost that gets to you.  It's the principle of it- the "why" factor. Did you do it because you needed some kind of proof that someone could actually be physical with you and care about you as a person at the same time? And if he ends up proving that to be possible, then why do you still feel lost? Like even if you wanted to search for something more... stable? traditional? you wouldn't even know where to start. You wear hemp shoes, you eat gluten-free food, but when it comes to men, you're still not sure what the healthy choice is. After all, you hardly have the resume. 

Well look at the bright side: 

Those vile tapioca balls are on their way out, and you're suddenly very much in style. 

Darwin Be Damned

Hello, there! It's been a little hectic with finals so I decided to peace out and go to Boston for absolutely no reason. My friend sitting next to me defined it as "New York for midgets." She is currently telling me a "bed time story" about Care Bears and an imaginary friend we named Fez, after the delightful character on That 70s Show. But sadly, I am not particularly listening, because...well, honestly because I'm giant loser and I'm thinking about genetic variation.

Shit, they've fallen asleep. Will my typing wake them? I'll have to be brief.

OK, here's the deal.

If you took 9th grade bio, you probably know that women have two X chromosomes and men have an X and a Y. If you took 9th grade bio, you also probably have seen a picture of the X and Y chromosomes, but if you were busy daydreaming about how cute Benny looks without his braces that day then I'll remind you that the Y chromosome was smaller than the X. Literally smaller. And say what will about the bedroom, but in this case, size does matter. Turns out, because that second X chromosome is longer it literally has more room for genetic variation. So when men say women are complicated, they're actually right on target. We are more complicated- genetically. And all the while, women are complaining that men can't express themselves. Well, our aim's not so bad either given they physically have less room for gene expression.

And while I'm on the topic of genetic variation let me just clear something up about the common notion that men are more likely to cheat. Some men are. But not all men. According to my research, whether or not a man will cheat has more to do with Darwin than you. In order to assure the survival of the species (a funny notion now, given the overpopulation of our planet) some men are programmed to be monogamous and some men aren't. So when your best friend tells you "if he cheated with you, he'll cheat on you" she's probably onto something. Except now it's not just common sense- it's genetic variation. 

Alright shit, they're totally passed out and I haven't even changed my tampon. brilliant. 

But if you're a giant nerd like me and you want to read more about this, just shoot me an email (A.womanblogs@gmail.com) or a comment and I can totally lend you my sources.

But finally, before I go, I'd like to say one more thing. If I believe this, then I have to believe that every nasty cheating-induced break up is the result of evolution. Well hats off to you, Darwin you've done it again. Thank you. I'm so utterly ecstatic evolution is part of my life. We may stumble upon that monogamy-man, but if you're anything like me, you'll pick the monkey with the cheat-gene out of the barrel any day of the week.

Maybe we're better off with apes.

Ps and Vs

Alright, I've had a rough day and I need to lighten the mood, so I'm gonna go with a really shallow topic that just happened to come up in conversation over drinks last night:

When it comes to words exchanged during sex, I have made it my policy not to judge. You can talk about Barney the Dinosaur for all I care- if that's what gets you going- that's your private business. 

But... Ah... I just... can't help but notice...

If you're having sex with someone and they make a comment about your vagina, how do you react? 

Male: "Your ___ is so_____  ."

Female: "    "

Female's thoughts: "...?"

I mean, correct me if I'm wrong here, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't do anything for us. It might do something for them and that's great! By all means! But here is what totally fascinates me:

If you're having sex with someone and you make a comment about their penis, they freak out. They love it. I mean I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on inside their heads so I won't make a cute little hypothetical conversation. But I think it's pretty safe to say it turns them on.

But why?! My vagina is a part of my body. So making a comment on its size, shape, or texture doesn't really excite me. It's like saying, "your eyes are brown." I know. And you can totally say it, I really don't mind at all. But I know they're brown. They're my eyes. 

So why is it so different for men? How can they be sexually stimulated by their own body part? It's almost like the penis is its own person; it has feelings and needs positive reinforcement to grow up big and strong. 

Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with that. I don't judge them for it. In fact, I almost feel bad that they have that extra person to deal with. But every time I notice a difference between men and women I just have to point it out. I can't help it- it's like staring at someone's pimple when you know they see you. 

I should really stop that.