friday links

Feminist Disney. Hell yes.

Mandy Stadt discusses that most men are actually terrified of being written about while dating a sex blogger.  WORD.

The Not Your Baby app (which is free!) gives snarky comebacks to gross street harassment. I got it and it is veritably awesome.

A history of subversive knitting. Weirdly fascinating .


"Not only can’t you tell anything about my health or behaviors by looking at me, those things are not a barometer for my worthiness and are absolutely not any of your business."

Have a great weekend!
Much love,
The Sheriff

Sheriff's Wisdom: Threesomes

This post is likely to be one in a series, Sheriff's Wisdom. I've been lucky enough to have friends and strangers and family members approach me with questions about sex, bodies, relationships, and lady issues of all kinds. Here goes the first week's column!

I was asked last year about this one by a friend (and was completely and totally flattered because I am by no means an expert, I just talk a lot about this stuff): What're the effects of bringing another person/people in the bedroom? How do you deal with potential hurt feelings/jealousy? How do you pick the right person?

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First of all, to anyone considering adding another body to their bedroom, kudos on being open enough to look outside of the confines of monogamy. I would also like to say, if you have no interest in a threesome or no interest beyond the thoughts you have when you're alone with your vibrator, that's completely and totally fine and you're not a prude. Lately, I feel like it's treated as if it's a deserved thing for men in monogamous relationships (consider the lyrics of Kanye in "Birthday Song" where he says that if you've given your girl a BMW, you automatically qualify for a menage a trois! It's just that easy, gentlemen), and that women need to be increasingly freaky in order to get attention or to not seem frigid. Which is some bullshit.

However.

If that is not you, and you are genuinely interested in pursuing this option, read on!

I think that threesomes, done right, can be a fun way to make a monogamous relationship more expansive or a way to have casual fun that need not be with anyone you know. But if you're already in a relationship, picking that third wheel is an important part of making the process a positive experience. Your options are basically the following: A. Pick someone you already know. B. Pick someone who is mostly a stranger. There are pros and cons to both. With someone you know, you likely have more trust and can determine perhaps to a better extent how jealous you might feel--would it be okay with you to see the person who was giving your partner oral around campus? What if they were friends before and continued to hang out afterwards? Would that make you feel jealous and queasy? With a stranger, of course, there's different problems too--you don't know them at all, so they could be full of diseases, and even if they're not full of warts, they could present a threat to your relationship precisely because they're an unknown variable. In either combo, I strongly recommend a little alcohol to loosen things up and get it started--liquid courage is necessary when embarking on something as awkward to begin as three-way sexual interaction.

What to do with any feelings that arise? You must be comfortable with your partner and confident enough in your bond to feel okay explaining to them how it made you feel afterward. If a threesome leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth (pun not intended), you must be able to tell them that and own it and not feel apologetic. It's up to the two of you at that point for how to repair, but I'd suggest starting with some real good, monogamous, lovey dovey sex to restore a bit of confidence in your bond as a couple. Works wonders

Bottom line is: you need to have honest discussions before you do this is jealousy is an issue or something you think would flare up. You need to know your boundaries and your partner's boundaries well in advance, to avoid a meltdown mid-fuck. And you need to be comfortable, whatever that means for you. A threesome should be an experience where it's fun and exciting and sexy, not something that makes you feel insecure or bad about your performance or body or relationship.


Have you had a threesome? Any advice on this matter?

Much love,
The Sheriff

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weight liberation

I rarely learn genuinely new things about my closest friends. We talk nearly nonstop when we are together and all suffer from extreme honesty, but occasionally, you have those moments with your friends where honesty about something leads to a sense of expansion, not just in your friendship but also for yourself.

Saturday night, my friend Razor and I went out for a friend's birthday. Like most late night events that involve coordinating multiple portions of the evening and lots of different people, it was a slight clusterfuck in terms of logistics, but I had a blast. As we wrapped up the evening eating delicious late night pizza in the Gayborhood on the steps of some fancy building, we somehow got into a discussion about weight.

Weight is a funny and awkward thing. My friends know pretty much everything about me, from my sexual stories to the way my crying face looks, but until quite recently, did not know my weight. Two of my closest friends are almost exactly my same height; we all wear the same pants size. But evidently, our weights are drastically different. And as the person at the heaviest weight, I feel like a whale.

But as the one universally described as the strong one who does the heavy lifting AND the one with the big boobs and butt, I don't know why it's such a shock that I'm denser than they are. I guess somehow in my head I'm still attached to the idea of my eating disordered self, where I was always the tiniest by a long shot and so thin and lithe and itsy bitsy.

Talking weight with Razor made me realize there is something really liberating about sharing something that I hold so tightly and secretly to my obnoxiously large chest. More importantly, there is something incredibly freeing about sharing that info and not having it impact her opinion of me one damn bit.

Are you secretive about your weight? Or do you always under-report it by 5 pounds? Talk to me.

Much love,
The Sheriff




PS--Follow FF on Facebook and Twitter!

friday links

Mitt Romney actually hates your guts. 

This is Obama's response to the Romney comments. Cheesy but gives me nice feelings inside anyway.






SEX ED MATTERS AND HERE'S WHY (totally worthy of all caps).
 







Weekly feminist GIF.



Oh, Pennsylvania: we are about to execute a guy who killed his sexual abuser.



Female soldiers to get their own body armor. Finally.



Much love,
The Sheriff

eating disorders and recover: residue of a former life

Sometimes, I'm astonished by the amount of things in my life that are still influenced by my eating disorder. Two and a half years into recovery, and it's still there. Anything that was in your life for close to a decade is bound to leave residue on you, like a ring around the bathtub.

My ring is made up of drinking obscene amounts of water (formerly attempts to make purging easier or to feel fuller during periods of restriction) and tooth decay and chewing lots of gum to trick my hunger center and conceal the smell of puke that clung to me like a bad perfume. My ring is made up of a small number of inflexible feelings and rules and discomfort around new foods or people commenting on my eating--a simple comment from Marvel of "Wow, you must be enjoying that" feels like a slap in the face and completely disrupts my meal and turns me into a pillar of silence and the refusal to have any more food pass my lips. It's made up of a personality based on control and anxiety and OCD about my schedule and using my time effectively to be THE WORLD'S BEST AND MOST PRODUCTIVE AND MOST LOVED.

These are things that may never fully dissolve. And maybe that's okay. If nine years of a mental illness left my personality completely untouched, it'd be a bit sad. But I am incredibly glad that it's no longer my entire personality.

Much love,
The Sheriff

okccupid and the sheriff: adventures in online dating

Last fall, while visiting my best friend of a thousand years in New Orleans, tipsy on wine and togetherness, we decided to create an online dating profile for me on OkCupid. Like lots of young people used to being surrounded in college by thousands of our datebale, fuckable peers, I struggled to find someone to date once I was released into the Real World. Plenty of people to just bone, since that's kinda all the bar scene offers, but I wanted something more substantial than that. OkCupid seemed like a reasonable and fun way to meet my needs.

First of all, no one warned me for how addicting it would be. OkCupid allows you to see who looks at you, when, and obviously, as a moderately attractive female with interest in men, I received a TON of attention. Within the first ten minutes of creating a profile, I had three messages. All of them turned out to be duds, but still! Attention is addicting, and so is harmless flirting.

Drawbacks of OkCupid include: MEAT MARKET. Wow. I got many messages from people seeking strictly sex, and because I was listed as bi, I also got a lot of messages from couples looking for the third wheel in their bedroom experiences. Additionally, I saw/received messages from many people I knew in real life, and some of whom I'd even dated! But this was kind of nice and humanizing: I wasn't the only person who, despite being wholly awesome, couldn't manage to meet people in the traditional way.

People, of course, also present themselves differently online. I had one date with a man who turned out to be a helluva lot older looking in person than I'd anticipated, and it was just awkward. It was like Liz Lemon on the date with the hot coffee guy who turned out to be 19 and she was 40 (sidebar: enjoy this. And this), where he kept making dated cultural references. I know I'll be there in a few years, but hey, I'm young and hot now, so I can say these things.

But it did make things easier in some sense: I could weed a person out if they said something like, "my biggest pet peeve is def angry feminists" or "I don't really read books." It can be harder to get people to say those things out loud when they're actively trying to impress you. Also, it's free and open to people who like their same gender, which is not true of all dating sites by a long shot.

Overall? I'd say it's worth a shot. Dating as a feminist is always hard because the whole world is dedicated to maintaining traditional gender norms and oppression and all that other crap. Online dating makes it a bit easier to weed out those people who you fundamentally disagree with. And I did wind up meeting someone wonderful, with whom I had a four hour conversation on our first date, and who I enjoyed talking to and boning long after that.

Have you given online dating a shot? Any luck with it?

Friday links

How do you take care of yourself?

What is self-objectification? Watch and learn.

Models without makeup...enlightening!

A woman with my first name with a podcast about fucking while feminist...soul mates?

AMY POEHLER AND WILL ARNETT ARE SEPARATING. Love very well may be dead. 

A logical analysis of how bleak things would be if we each only have one real soul mate.

Much love,
The Sheriff

updates from the road of celibacy

Celibacy is, so far, not terrible. It's also not a ton of fun...yet. Does it ever get to be fun? The Sheriff is used to getting it in pretty regularly, so given that it's only been about two weeks without sex in my life, whining to my friends about it is just pathetic. Two weeks is hardly real deprivation, but as anyone who has ever tried to break a habit (nail biting, drinking soda, cursing) knows, two weeks can feel like forever.

One of the big changes I've noticed has been the increased laziness in regards to my sexualized appearance. Thanks to a childhood trauma of one of my brother's friends pointing out my pubic hair in a bathing suit WHEN I WAS TEN, I've been pretty devoted to my razor. A few times a year, I try to grow my hair out just to see what it's like and because of my strong feminist sensibilities that remind me how silly it is to spend all this money, time, and energy removing something that occurs on my body naturally, but then it just gets itchy and weird and inappropriate scratching in public becomes necessary. So I cave and shave.

But given that work has started up again for me and that I usually wear pants and tights, that level of maintenance is fading. And that has brought about my first celibacy related epiphany: to be sexualized appears to be all appearance based. And not just that, but it's also artificial levels of appearances, as in removing body hair. At least, so far it is.

What do you think? Does your maintenance tend to fall off when sex is not a regularity? Or are you one of those brave people who doesn't bother with the razor?

Much love,
The Sheriff

the (stupid) terror of moving up a size

There is something especially demeaning about dressing rooms. The three-dimensional mirrors combined with the fluorescent lighting that shows every dimple and pore and the particularly horrible vision of seeing yourself half-bent over trying to squeeze jeans over your hips...it's horrible. Simply, utterly, effing horrible.

And it's made all the worse when you have to bump up a size in clothes.

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Having endured the trauma of jeans shopping in Target about a month ago (seriously, do they standardize their sizes at all?) and finding all of the pants just wrong (too big, too small, too long), this has been on my mind lately. Sizing down is a huge self-esteem boost, at least for me--there's a frolicking, feeling-light-and-svelte sensation about finding your normal size is just a bit too big. But sizing up? It's a gut-dropping, oy-vey-I'm-disgusting type of feeling.

I think this comes from the fact that we get invested into this idea of who we are that's partially tied to our clothing size (thanks, anti-lady marketing!). When I was thinner, I felt like a lithe and graceful size X, and now that I'm a bit bigger, I feel like a bootylicious size Y.  Because we've been conditioned and bought into this myth, it makes that moment of finding that you fit into the higher size more solidly a bit traumatic and disturbing. It disrupts this false sense of who you are that you've been sold.

However. As I've realized, the bumping up in size can also plainly just mean this: you've gained weight. Which often signals a change of sorts anyway (in lifestyle, eating habits, stress, upheaval, babies, what have you), and that's also hard to cope with, even without the fact that your clothes may not fit you properly. And that's okay. The changes, good and bad, lovely and disastrous, in your life are the important thing here. The bigger pants are just the physical proof of it. That's what I try to tell myself, anyway.

How do you deal with these kinds of moments? Do you keep fat clothes on hand for this, so as not to have to endure the pain of trying on new clothes?

Much love,
The Sheriff

friday links

Did you know that the Williams sisters kick ass? Yup. They do.

The GOP really makes it rain, according to Tampa area strippers. 

Some interesting reflections on balance.

This is a bit old now but so so good: rape fatigue and when there's just no anger left. 

This is horrible--woman told not to breastfeed at work because it's nasty and she might spew everywhere.

Much love,
The Sheriff

a new chapter for the sheriff: celibacy

Sex has often been a space of empowerment for me, as you may have gathered from this here lil blog. It's not something I've had much shame or embarrassment about, and something I love to advise people on.

And for now, it's something I'm taking a wee break from for a while. Four months, precisely.

Why would I deprive myself of something that I truly enjoy and that I find an empowering experience? Why does anyone deprive themselves of something they enjoy? To grow and be a better person and to have new things to bitch about to their friends.

Because of changes in my relationship status that are (hopefully!) temporary, I've decided I'm going to stay celibate for four months. This also means no phone number getting and text flirting and all that malarkey. My objective here is to keep things from making my life excessively murky and crowded with people in a way that is not really fun or fulfilling to me right now, but also because I need mental space and time--there's no need to bring dick into the picture.

I'm particularly curious about how this impacts my relationship to my body and myself, given that sex has been a pretty large part of my life throughout my entire adolescence and young adulthood so far, and I want to use this blog as a space to explore that and discuss it and see what changes occur. I'm excited about this. Because I'm doing this as a choice and not because of shame or guilt or in pursuit of some fucked up notion of purity, there's a sense of freedom in this commitment and that's where I'm at with it right now. We'll see if things change.

But don't worry. I won't be going anywhere, despite the planned lack of fornicating. I might even wind up blogging more than normal because of the deprivation!

 Have you ever pursued a self-imposed break from sex? Or has a drought had some surprising side effects?

Much love,
The Sheriff