Dating Confessions by You "I'm wearing sexy underwear while talking to you online so that I feel confident enough to tell you that I'm into you."
Scanner by Emily Farris Today on Hooksexup's culture blog: We bring you more Dita Von Teese from the German Playboy.
Screengrab by Various Today in Hooksexup's film blog: Holiday special - 35 people, places and movies we're thankful for.
The Remote Island by Bryan Christian Michael Phelps indulges Anderson Cooper in some watersports and Dexter makes a 'bitch move.' Plus: the secret of Tina Fey's scar, revealed!
Do I look like the kind of girl who gives blowjobs? I know that Monica Lewinsky does and Gwyneth Paltrow doesn't. I'm not sure whether I'd rather look like the kind of girl who does or the kind of girl who doesn't, but I'd certainly like to be the kind of girl who does, at least occasionally. The thing is, I'm not very good at it. No, really, don't try to disagree with me. I can count on one hand the men who could contradict me from first-hand experience, but they're all very nice boys who'd rather tell a little white lie than hurt my feelings. One of them even told me that "there's no such thing as a bad blowjob." I've since learned that's not true (from boys with no good reason to lie to me). Perhaps it was true once, back in high school, when a boy could come at the mere thought of a girl heading South. But back in high school, I was giving even less head than I do now (none, in fact), so I never got to practice. More than any other sexual activity, the blowjob is an acquired art one that I never acquired. And like swimming or riding a bike, the older I get, the more embarrassing it is to learn.
I shudder at the idea of sex being a skill-set it's so unsexy. So unromantic. Rote, even. As a male friend recently told me, some women are such experts at giving head that it feels completely impersonal; they might as well be doing it to a cucumber. (And yes, I have tried that and no, it didn't help.) Of course, this particular male friend was trying to help me overcome my insecurities about the penis, but he has a point it's not just about skill; intention and personal attention are factors in the fellatio equation, too. Unfortunately, his point also confirmed for me that there is such a thing as a Very Excellent Blowjob. I imagine the only thing worse than a slightly impersonal but very excellent blowjob is a personal but very, very bad blowjob. Remember all those things you did wrong (or had done wrong unto you) in high school? The teeth, the literal blowing, the . . . well, I don't know what the other "wrongs" are, because I never gave a high school blowjob. I wish I'd gotten all the fellatio faux-pas out of the way back when everyone else was busy committing them and the playing field was even. Does a man in his twenties or thirties really want a toothy blowjob? I've read studies about the casual manner and frequency and lack of discrimination with which high schoolers perform oral sex these days (because in the studies, it's always an act "performed" rather than enjoyed), and I think they must be better at it than I am. I haven't been this humiliated since realizing that if I retook the math S.A.T.'s today, I'd do worse.
Of course, my sex life is a continuum, and my sexual desires, skills and preferences develop along a path that is bumpy and particular that's what makes it so fun to travel. But my inability to suck dick seems to be a massive roadblock, one I need to either scale or reroute around (the latter is the solution I've favored thus far, with the occasional exception of a sloppy scaling of a peak after one too many shots of liquid courage). Still, it's not a roadblock that's easy to admit to. Everyone has their own little sex tricks tricks they perform during every encounter, no matter how casual; tricks they save for relationships; tricks they'd maybe like to try in a long-term relationship; tricks they're not sure they'd ever like to try; and tricks they've only seen in pornos featuring monkeys and would like to keep that way. But everyone gives head. A blowjob is not a "trick." It's not a roadblock. It's the fucking road!
Fifty years ago, maybe even ten, this would have been a private phobia; boyfriends might not have even noticed my oral inattention to the genital region. But then everything got so damned sex-positive and women started to declare "I love dick!", loudly and proudly. It even became quite trendy. I have two male friends who were told by women on a first date that they were quite accomplished cocksuckers. I'm all for the sexual confidence with which women conduct themselves these days, and I'm all for loose ladyhood. But this new liberated environment has created, at least for me, a pressure to be good at everything, to adore every aspect of sex and to be comfortable saying so, privately and publicly. To be more manly about it all, perhaps. But where's the fun in saying "yes" to things if you never say "no"?
Of course, I can and do say no, often. And no boyfriend has ever really complained (though a few exes, bolstered by the assumption that I do give head to my new boyfriend, have commented on my reticence in that department). But I don't want to be the girl who says no. And I don't want to be the girl who has fellatio issues. The more I talk about it, the sillier I feel, and the less I want to do about it. I compiled fifteen pages of notes for this article, and as my friend and colleague Lo pointed out, that's a lot of writing on cock-sucking for a woman who doesn't suck cock.
So why don't I just suck it up, and, well, suck it up? Every new boyfriend selflessly offers himself up "for practice," and I'm sure they'd all have been generous and patient teachers. The only time I've ever felt comfortable enough to agree to a step-by-step lesson was with an ex I was still screwing (as one does). We had exhausted every possibility for a relationship, every shred of romance, and all that was left was sex. I didn't acknowledge it at the time, but I think, in the heat of the moment (or rather, because of the lack of heat in the moment) I saw him as no more than a sex, uh, tool. "Tell me how," I demanded, "while I do it." But he realized that I wanted his guidance only so I could go out and fellate fruitfully, lick other lollipops, suck other sausages with gusto and with confidence. His pride won out, he zipped up, and then he unzipped and we did it missionary style, and I remained unschooled.
But I don't suppose it's a matter of one lesson. Neither is it a matter of one penis, or one boy, or one particularly enlightening how-to passage (hell, I already wrote that . . . no, wait, that was Lo). In fact, I'm not exactly sure what it is a matter of. I'm guessing it will have something to do with love. Men and women alike are capable of detaching themselves from sex I've had my share of good old-fashioned casual boinking. But men and women also require a degree of attachment for certain sex acts. I don't know many men who are fans of casual cunnilingus, and you don't often hear about one-night stands of the anal variety (amongst breeders, at least). Maybe it's because of the meanings we attach to each sex act ("on your knees bitch," for example), or the kind of communication necessary to get the job done right something tough to achieve with a near-stranger ("You want to put it where?"). Or maybe it's something more ineluctable, a physical quality that differentiates one act from another in our minds the way penetration feels versus being penetrated, the way some women get off from giving head but not receiving it. As for me, I need to feel rather attached while giving head. That may be because it's all in my head, so to speak. In the case of casual blowjobs, there's no actual physical pleasure for me to fill the emotional void. The turn-on of casual sex is about what is being done to me rather than what I'm doing. Losing myself in a physical feeling gives me the ability to do something casually, but if I want to lose myself by doing, I better think pretty highly of the person I'm doing it to. I'm not under the illusion that when I fall in love I'll become an insatiable cocksucker (though wouldn't that be romantic?). Rather, it's something I'm saving for later, though admittedly the act of saving isn't entirely voluntary. But at least this way, when I want to "try something new," I won't have to bring out the gimp.
If you enter each new relationship draped in seven veils, then blowjobs must lie dormant under my seventh. It's the most vulnerable position I can put myself in (besides singing in public). No one wants someone else's full attention on the things they do worst. But I'm edging closer to conquering my fears. I sang a karaoke duet the other day, and I recently tried out a sixty-nine. Neither was exactly a cannonball off the diving board, but both were pleasant wading experiences into deeper waters. So tell me, when I finally get to the deep-end, do I spit or do I swallow?
Contributing editor Emma Taylor is one half of "Em & Lo," and has been a near-expert at Hooksexup for the past five years. Together with her better half, Lo, she has written Hooksexup's two original books, "The Big Bang" (July '03) and "Hooksexup's Guide to Sex Etiquette" (February '04). She writes for Men's Journal, Glamour, The Guardian (U.K.) and EmandLo.com. She can currently be heard starring on Hooksexup's voicemail system.
, featuring curious yet marvelous infusions of cucumber and rose petal.
