grandmother's advice

last night, at a big fancy dinner, my grandmother leaned over to me and said, "what you need is a rich older man and a younger woman."

background later. needless to say, i am shocked!

ignorant sluts

I am super pissed off. This post will be a doozy. You have been warned.

I am so frustrated with ignorant sluts. Ignorant sluts are the folks in the multiple partner sex party scenes who believe the little "d/d free" mention in their ad or post means shit. Ignorant sluts are those who reject partners who voluntarily disclose their sti status, while not inquiring the sti status of any other partners. Ignorant sluts pretend that their "safer sex practices" (putting on the condom eventually, although not necessarily at first penetration; unprotected blowjobs; etc) have kept them risk free and unexposed to any possible infection. Ignorant sluts think that since they "got tested" and nothing came back positive, they're clean.

But the most annoying thing about ignorant sluts is that these are very intelligent people. And they are my friends.

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The scenario

My friend Jefferson has been throwing sex parties for almost a year. I used to go back in the day, but lately life has gotten in the way. Many mutual friends and fucks make their way to his parties. It's one big happy incestuous family.

So, my friend of the blogosphere, Nadia, recently wrangled an invite to an upcoming evening. Nadia is super smart, wonderful, and educated about sexual health. She also has herpes. Her personal value system leads her to disclose her status to all potential sex partners, with positive and negative results. Nadia sends Jefferson an email:

I have a question for you, oh dear sex party host.... what is the protocol when someone attending has a minor std? I have herpes and I've always been good about informed consent of my partners and I'm not sure how to handle this situation. I only get outbreaks about once a year at this point, so most of the time I'm probably not contagious, but of course I can't ever guarantee that at a particular moment I'm not. So far I've never given it to anyone just by using condoms for intercourse.... but of course I'd like to keep that record going! I have no problem with people using barriers for oral sex or whatever, they can do what they need to feel comfortable.

Of course, should I suddenly get an outbreak around the time of the party I won't attend, but if everything's normal - I have no idea what to do.... ack. With herpes being so prevalent (20-25% of the population estimated to have it and 90% estimated to have oral herpes anyway which can be transmitted via oral sex to the genitals) I do hope this isn't a major deal but I want people to make the decision for themselves.... despite my fears of rejection. Some people see it as no big deal, others freak.... oy.

She's one smart cookie. Jefferson forwards to me with a request for advice. I say that since the risk of transmission between outbreaks is minimal (not to mention the same as folks who are asymptomatic carriers or folks between bouts of cold sores), let her come. He responds:

Thank you for lending your mind to this issue!

I will let her come. My feeling is that in the interest of informed consent, she should tell people about her STI before playing with them--which will likely cut out most potential partners.

Given what you say about the very low risk of transmission, is that asking too much?

Now, disclosure and informed consent are two push-button issues for me. I feel (and frequently verbalize) that people need to take responsibility for their own sexual health. Educate yourself to the risks, find a level of risk you're comfortable with, and stick to it. Don't assume anyone's status (unless you're assuming they have every infection under the sun). Don't assume your partner will disclose (or disclose honestly, even when asked). Don't assume your disclosure will prompt reciprocation. Don't assume your partner knows his/her/hir status. Don't assume your own status.

Additionally, you are responsible for your level of risk, including your level of information. If you are not asking questions, you do not have the right to know (although the information may be offered, it is a privilege). Informed consent is not so much about shared information between partners, but rather the knowledge level of each individual partner. I feel the same way about herpes or hpv as I do about hiv.

Someone who wants to bottom bareback (without a condom, that's what the "bb" means on all those acronyms, bbbj, bbfs, etc) knows they are placing themselves at risk for a variety of infections, including hiv (the big daddy of sexually transmitted infections, the one everyone is worried about, and the one that is easiest to prevent transmission of). They are responsible to inquire as to their partner's status, and have the right to request details of most recent test date and risk activities in the window period prior and since. I believe that an hiv positive person can top without a condom without volunteering their status, if their status has not been inquired (I'm not saying they should or shouldn't, but that's their choice; although they are legally obligated in certain states). An individual is only responsible for their own informed consent and sexual health.

Now, this does not mean I believe people should knowingly endanger their partners. Answer honestly to the best of your abilities. But it is impossible to ever really know all the details of your infection status (see testing section below).

So, Jefferson's reply got me a little razzed. I wrote back:
my feeling on the matter is if a person isn't asking everyone they go up to at the party if they have an sti, then their partners are not responsible for the silent person's sexual health. i believe she is not obligated to tell anyone (even you). this is only emphasized by the low risk of transmission. she thinks differently and will probably disclose (or at least has already begun to disclose by outing herself to you).

the fact that she is aware of her status and gets screened regularly and knows her body, she's probably putting herself at greater risk by fucking all your guests who may only occasionally get tested, if at all, without inquiring their status (assumes anyone else will also disclose).

would you allow a person to attend your party if they were hiv positive? would it matter if it was a woman or a man? how do you know no one with hiv has attended already? have you inquired as to the last time your guests were tested and listed the various stis one can be tested for (cause many you have to ask specifically, especially for boys)?

plus, i know its cliche and simultaneously melodramatic and under-estimating, but everyone has herpes and hpv in one strain or another. i have had cancor sores along my gum lines since i was an itty bitty child. this is a strain of herpes. one that could potentially be passed to a partner even with an unwrapped blowjob if i happened to have one in my cheek that i didn't think about. if you have ever had a cancor sore or a cold sore, you also have herpes. and you are just as likely to pass it on to your guests as nadia.

He ponders and replies (don't you love posts with email chains):
Very good points. I think in this case, Nadia is guided by her own ethics to inform people, which sets my mind at ease somewhat. I just feel a little burdened by my responsibilities as host.

And you are right: while we do tell everyone that is a "d/d free" group, we don't ask for evidence of recent testing. That may be unrealistic, given that we are not closed to new members. I don't lose sleep, though, because I watch closely, and everyone plays safe, if not by the most rigid guidelines (ie unprotected oral sex).

Under no conditions would I knowingly permit an HIV positive person to attend. Just as I wouldn't attend a poz party.

At this point, steam began coming from my ears. So I left my computer for the night, watched the sandlot with Dacia, slept, did work for the office, went to the dyke knitting circle, wrote my take-home Spanish test, and realized I was still pissed off about this. At that point, the blogging etiquette kicked in. I sent little heads-up emails to Jefferson and Nadia, inquired requested pseudonyms, and prepped them. (Jefferson, sweetie. I still love you. I am just very frustrated right now. Nadia, darling. You are a saint and a martyr. Not fun, but very admirable). Then I started writing what has become this eight page essay, until two in the morning last night. I completed and edited it this morning. Now, posted for your viewing pleasure.

So, here comes the meat and potatoes (yes, there's more).

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the facts

Sexually transmitted infections ("stis", formerly known and occasionally referred to as sexually transmitted diseases or stds) are a part of a sexually active lifestyle. If you are having sex (including oral sex) you are potentially exposing yourself to a variety of infections. All of these infections can be treated, and many can be cured. However, most of these infections also carry a social stigma.

the stats

HPV: Studies suggest that three quarters of the adult American population has been infected with HPV. Similar to herpes, HPV can not be tested for without symptoms present (including cervical dysplasia that the individual may not be aware of). Consequently, most people with HPV do not know they have it.

Herpes: Over 45 million Americans have the strain of herpes called HSV-2. Furthermore, up to 80 percent of Americans have the strain of herpes associated with cold sores and cancor sores. Previously HIV-1 was synonymous with "oral herpes". However, HSV-1 can be transmitted to the genitals via oral sex. Consequently, "oral herpes" and "genital herpes" no longer differentiates between HSV-1 and HSV-2 but refers to the area of outbreaks. Finally, it is estimated that four out of five people with herpes do not know that they have it.

Chlamydia: According to plannedparenthood.org, three million American women and men become infected with chlamydia every year. Chlamydia is:
four times as common as gonorrhea
more than 30 times as common as syphilis
most common among women and men under 25
For every person with herpes, there are six with chlamydia.
Also, Chlamydia infections are asymptomatic (don't present any pus or painful urination or other fun side effects of an infection) for 75 percent of women and 50 percent of men with Chlamydia. It can lead to infertility and crippling arthiritis if undiagnosed and untreated.

HIV: More than 40,000 men and women contract HIV each year. It is estimated that one third of people with HIV do not know they have it.

This is a very condensed list of the "top three" infections and everybody's favorite, HIV. The point being: many people have sexually transmitted infections AND many people do not know that they have sexually transmitted infections.

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"d/d free" my ass

I hate the phrase "d/d free" almost as much as I hate the term "abstinence". They are both open to interpretation and no two people define them in the same manner. And they both provide a false sense of security. I know some of you are out their scratching your heads (or your asses), saying "d/d free, huh?" To define, "d/d free" is web/personals slang for "drug and disease free". The fact that some of you don't know what it means illustrates point one: never assume someone knows what the fuck you're talking about, especially when speaking in acronyms.

Now, breaking it down. What exactly is "drug free"? Or even more basic, what qualifies as a "'drug"? Pot, Viagra, ridalyn, adderal, alcohol, tobacco, poppers, meth, ecstasy, coke, uppers, downers, xanax, heroin… At this particular series of parties, there is open alcohol, tobacco, pot, and ecstasy use, not to mention the occasional person who wanders in already having popped a pill or done a line. At other "d/d free" parties, I have seen poppers and Viagra passed between guests like a hor'dors (I have no idea how to spell this word, sorry). Where is the proverbial line drawn that divides the "social drugs" from the "real drugs" implied in "d/d free"?

So, if "drug free" isn't enforced, how can one assume that the "disease free" portion will be adhered to?

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"getting tested"

Can we ever really know our sexually transmitted infection status? Only in two situations. The first involves having a history absent of all sexual behavior, including kissing (even with parents and family members) and assumes the mother was not infected at the time of birth. The second is having every known sexually transmitted infection actively presenting itself and its symptoms. But what about getting tested?

First, you are not automatically tested for anything, even at your yearly physical. If you ask to "be tested" for stis (sexually transmitted infections, in case I haven't defined that earlier), chances are you will be swabbed for gonorrhea and Chlamydia, and have blood taken for syphilis and maybe hepatitis, if you have a good health care provider. You must specifically request to be tested for hiv (this is a legal issue as a positive test is reported to the DOH in most states and all AIDS diagnoses are reported to the CDC). But what about HPV and herpes? Well, chicks can have a pap smear to check for cervical lesions caused by some strains of hpv (see my "hpv and me" post for more info), and if you can find a health care provider with the equipment and the savvy, anyone can have an anal pap. But you can only be tested for the hpv strains that cause genital warts when warts are present. Similarly, you can only be tested for herpes when lesions are present (although there is a blood test now available, it is hard to find access to and is more often used for typing herpes as hsv1 or hsv2 for purposes of treatment than original diagnosis due to cost efficacy issues).

Additionally, several sexually transmitted infections have "window periods". This is the time between initial infection to the point that one tests positive. During this period, one can transmit the infection to partners but would receive negative test results. The most notable window period is the three months for hiv. Moral of the story? You can not assumed that because you have been tested you are free of sexually transmitted infections.

Furthermore, asking, "have you been tested?" is not specific enough to garner any worthwhile information. One must ask, "when were you last tested?" "what were you tested for?" (if they answer "everything" quiz them, "gonorrhea, Chlamydia, hiv, syphilis, herpes [throw that in there to trip them up], hepatitis, etc?") "did you engage in risk activities in the three months prior to testing?" "have you engaged in any risk activities since being tested?" And, ultimately, what do the answers mean? I find it easier to assume that everyone has everything, and protect myself according to my own levels of comfortable risk. Which brings us to our next point.

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"safER sex"

Remember "safe sex"? That phrase that helped America get its groove back post 1980's hiv-induced panic. You know, wear a condom and everything will be fine. Well, as George Bush and his buddies like to remind us, "the only safe sex is no sex". I think this may be the sole point Georgie boy and I agree upon. Sex is not safe. It is a series of risks. Personal, emotional, and physical. The physical risks include the risk of infection. Consequently, the sex savvy cohort may have notices a recent shift in vernacular.

In the past few years, "safe sex" has grown up and become "safer sex". Safer sex is more than using a rubber. The term encompasses a plethora of risk-reduction behaviors. From withdrawal to latex-encased-elbow-rubbing, the spectrum of safer sex is infinite and shifting. For example, condoms coupled with withdrawal are highly effective for reducing the risk of transmission of hiv and preventing pregnancy, however doesn't offer shit for an open herpes sore outside the condom with direct skin-to-skin contact at every ball-to-ass-smack.

For a comprehensive list of which activities put you at risk for what, check out http://www.dph.sf.ca.us/sfcityclinic/stdbasics/stdchart.asp. My only criticism of the chart is the combination of the strains of hpv linked to warts and the other twenty some odd strains, including those that can lead to cervical dysplasia. Lesson, wearing condoms for all penetrative vaginal and anal intercourse does not insulate the group from infection.

Furthermore, suggesting that closing the party to new members would serve to eliminate the risk of infection is naïve at best. Although limiting the number of immediate partners could somewhat reduce the risk, it is hardly an effective means of prevention. A sex party group is not insular. Most people who attend sex parties, also have multiple partners outside of that particular event. Think of it as the cast for a porn flick. How does hiv occasionally make it's way into one of the most heavily tested populations on the planet? Via risk activities with outside partners. Even by closing the guest list, there will still be risk.

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The frustration

It is so frustrating when people that I know and care about, whom I have spoken with and answered questions and handed brochures and references for years, can still fail to internalize the information. If Jefferson is still thinking like this after three years of me, how can I expect to impact anyone in a single workshop or class. Argh!

office party

ah, the office holiday party.

last night, the office rendezoused at a swanky midtown bar/restaurant to drink, eat, and boogie down (the last part was especially humorous). i set my limit at three baileys due to previous party experiences.

at the office summer party, on a little "cruise" around manhattan, the had the gaul to offer a cash bar. i solved this dilemma by tucking my roommate's flask between my garter belt and the top of my stockings. my coworker's partner (they have been together since they were fifteen, they are the cutest dyke couple i know) took turns nipping our diet cokes. when the boat docked, we headed over to henrietta hudson's for more drinking. the had to cab me to the train.

but the christmas party the year before takes the cake. it was held in the office penthouse (not acceptable), although there was an open bar. so i drank lots and lots of baileys in the holiday spirit. and i started feeling randy. we were playing the who in the office do you find fuckable game, and laughing at our lack of selection. so, i stumbled down the stairs to my desk to make a booty call. and another call. then post a craigslist ad. at which point my friend of a decade and former three-time boyfriend, and occasional fuck, gave me a call. i was lamenting my predicament and he offered his cock. my nipples perked (the slut's equivalent to a lightbulb going on).

i checked travelocity and discovered a flight leaving to detroit in a little under two hours. i walked out of the office, flagged a cab, and entered laguardia. now, you can't book a flight online that close to take off. so i approached the ticket sales counter. i welled up the tears and improvised a story of my uncle having a heart attack and is in the hospital and we don't know if he'll be okay. i kept up this facade through the personal search and onto the plane (bad bad karma, i know, but he isn't dead yet and his heart is ticking strong).

on the plane, i take inventory. i'm in a full length vintage hippy dress. i need underwear, a pair of pants, a toothbrush, various other necessities. however, i do have my zippy vibrator. i slip over the old couple next to me, offering me grapes and crackers from their cooler, into the lavatory. once there, i twist the base of my zippy onto high and tuck it snug between my lips, hood, and panties. then i stroll back to my seat. thank god zippies are so quiet and airplanes are so loud. i put my headphones on and fake a nap as i clench my pc muscles through fantasy after fantasy and a series of satisfying orgasms. when i've had enough, i make sure the airline blanket covers my lap up to my tits. i reach down and lift my skirt to discreetly remove the zippy. i suck it clean with my face to the window and drop it back in my bag, dozing sweetly for the rest of the flight.

once in detroit, my pal is there. we head to meijers for panties and sweat pants. then we stop by a little caesar's for a five dollar pizza. and a video store for porn (little runaways, so hot hot hot). in the red jeep where i almost lost my virginity (damn cops), there is groping and sucking and all sorts of hands as we rush back to his apartment. in the door, to the room, down the condom, on the cock, good times.

after or third round, i'm already beginning to get sore. i regret that i don't have any lube with me. he questions the concept, saying i'm more than wet enough. i explain the wonders of lube. like a good boy he picks some up on his way home from work in the morning. so there was a weekend of sex in a far off city, where i left my pink lace panties dangling from the kitchen lighting fixture, all due to the holiday office party.

mommy making love (or fucking if you prefer)

to clarify an earlier post (and thank you to everyone who responded), my mother has not handed over her diary of sexual exploits (although, if she had, i would read it voraciously). my mother asserted her prudery throughout my youth ("jane marie... *gasp and shaking head in bewilderment*). she never had sex before marriage, never did drugs, obeyed her parents and felt horribly guilty whenever she crossed an established line. bullshit! talking with my aunt, my mother rode a statue of a bull in the middle of a fountain central to her college campus, naked and on acid her sophomore year (and at the time, she had already been dating my dad for two years as they met at 18 and married at 21 so don't write off your mom's possible adventures, michael).

but my favorite cracking of the mask came during a week we spent together in europe tagging along on one of my father's business trips. i had just turned 18 and was heading off to new york in the fall. they decided i needed to learn to drink (as i was going to college). so they (or just my mom on the many evenings my dad had business dinners/meetings/etc) would take me bar hopping each night, having me sample three to five different drinks, in search of one i actually liked (i disliked the taste and abhorred the smell of alcohol). what usually happened, though, was i would order drinks, take a sip, decided i didn't like it, and pass it on to my mom (who had also ordered drinks of her own).

one night in brussels, she and i went to dinner at a fancy restaurant she and my father referred to as "the lobster man". we ordered a bottle of wine with dinner. i didn't like it. she drank the whole bottle. in less than two hours. when the check had come, i began the task of weaving her back through the cobbled streets to our hotel. at one stumble, she leaned against me and spoke this sage wisdom:

"janie, you know what you need to do? you need to go to new york. find a guy. preferably somewhere NEAR your age. and you need to just screw around."

needless to say, i have since taken that advice to heart, although ignoring the gender and age requirements.

back to the memoirs. the other morning, while knitting on the subway, defrosting from the cold, i came to the realization that this is most likely my last winter in new york. the end of a rather intense chapter. one that i do not want to loose to alzheimers or prudery. for new years, i want to compile memoirs of the last five years (stories of the blackout, anthrax, subway stalkers, sex parties, sept 11, living on $8/week, sex museums and sex ed). i have whispered my desire for a digital camera to santa (not for dirty pictures or anything...) so could use it to photograph important landmarks and people. then print out and bind five copies or something for kid, grandkid, and privileged nieces and nephews. this would include juicy bits of my sexual exploits, including prostitution, as it has made a substantial contribution to my new york experience.

so, to rephrase the question, if i was your mommy, would you want to know?

woo hoo!

my cervix is normal! (happy dance)

and i just completed my graduation audit and as long as i pass history (64 on the final is all i need) i graduate in january (although commencement isn't until june).

finally, i will be a slut with a pretty pink cervix and a degree. i think this warrants a whore-ray.

a question

if your mother were to present you with a journal/diary/memoir of her life and exploits as an early twenty-something (all the sex, drugs, parties, lovers, and everything else she was able to get away with) would you read it? would you want to know?

you can comment, email (the_educated_slut@yahoo.com), courier pigeon, what have you. i appreciate your response.

threesome

*found a disk. at work. still no time to type extensively. miss you all*

So, in light of recent cervix adventures (still have not received my results), as well as the humongous amounts of stress I’m carrying between work and school, I haven’t been feeling my sexiest. So when an invitation to a threesome (actually, foursome if you want to be technical) was extended, I shrugged it off. I hear some folks screaming and clawing at their eyes at the thought of voluntarily passing up such an opportunity (an acquaintance once lamented that he would miss his own father’s funeral for a chance of a threesome), it’s honestly nothing special.

In fact, I have quite a history of threesomes. Granted, when giving dual handjobs behind the dj stand at modern rock café when I was thirteen, I did not classify my actions as a threesome, but in retrospect I think it would more than qualify.

My first formal invitation into a threesome occurred during my sophomore year of highschool . At this time I was in a phase of born-again abstinence. I had recently had the epiphany that I was using my serial monogamy as an emotional crutch during my intense depression. Part of my quest for independence was declaring a moratorium upon dating. The result being that I dated three or four guys a year (a great reduction from my two or three a month I had previously average).

So, in this time of celibacy, I met a girl in the locker room. She was scrawny and blond and a little white trash for our preppy public school. She wore autographed NASCAR shirts and bike shorts with high tops and streaks of color in her waist length hair. She was also far from a virgin. Madly in love with her sometimes twenty eight sometimes thirty two year old boyfriend and furious with her mother, her life represented the drama I’d left behind. At one point in the semester, a preppy bitch called her a dyke while we were changing after jogging. “Bitch, I’m bi” she snapped back. There was a gasp and a few snide remarks and everyone subtly moved away from her. I gave her a smile, and said, “That’s cool.” And that was that.

A month or two later her boyfriend’s birthday rolled around. As the bell rang for the next class and the locker room cleared out, she pulled me aside. “Hey, my boyfriend and I were thinking you might want to join us on a date.” I felt my ears burn. I didn’t know how to react. Historically, I had rarely turned down a sexual invitation. To be desired was a compliment requiring the polite response of acceptance (I was a regular Heloise). But I knew this was a step I wasn’t prepared to take. So I said, “thanks, but I don’t swing that way” (an expression I’d overheard my grandmother enquiring of my mother, “does Janie swing both ways?”). “that’s cool” she echoed my earlier sentiment. And that was that, Or so I thought.

Then, prom night, I was approached by a very good friend from the class above mine. He had been somewhat of a mentor and support for me. We had participated in several theatre productions together, and I was friends with his younger brothers. He and his girlfriend, who was in my class, had been together (in an on again off again kind of way) as long as I had known him. Towards the end of the year, she and I had begun to hang out more often and it became apparent she needed a social escape outside of him. So, at prom, this guy approaches me (in my black vinyl floor length gown and grandmother’s pearls, cause I was classy like that). “So, S__ and I are trying some new things, spicing it up, you know. We have thought about this and talked about this a lot. We both like you as a friend and both have a bit of a crush on you. We were wondering if you would be interested in getting together with us sometime this summer, before we lose you to new york. We thought it might be something you could be into, or at least not judge us for the invitation.” I was flustered, but told him I’d think about it. I hadn’t slipped away with my sailor yet, plus, I liked them (I knew I didn’t want to lose my virginity to anyone I had affection for, a risk of becoming emotionally dependent and compromising the progress I had made). The result of the invitation was me making out with his girlfriend on several occasions, never with him present (I was beginning to “question my sexuality”).

So, when did I finally do it?!? Freshman year, a bottle of tequila, a carton of orange juice, a smaller bottle of gin, two male friends, and radiohead’s kid a on repeat. There were all sorts of mutual groping and spanking and drinking. I fucked them both at different points in the evening. Although they were found of each other, and would stroke one another, or kiss a shoulder or back, there wasn’t much boy on boy.

Two summers later, I picked up a lovely woman at the Sunshine theatre during a late Sunday evening show of Y Tu Mama Tambien. A week later, she met another woman at a queer ivy league mixer. The three of us hung out for pride. Then the first lady went out of town on business. The second and I went to fire island for the fourth of july, where I sucked her tits until she came on the beach at two in the afternoon. Later she returned the favor in the sunken forest, until three gay boys stumbled upon us (“oh, snap!”). So, one evening the three of us, and a friend, got dressed up in fetish gear (my first time in a corset) and strolled to a queer fetish part at remote lounge. Afterwards we stumbled into the big bed of the loft I was subletting from a professor. We were too exhausted for any fun that night, but with the morning sun came snuggling, which lead to cuddling, which lead to stroking, which lead to making out, which lead to no holds bar three way lesbian action (oh, yeah, baby). Actually, it was more like a rotating two on one (You got her tits, I’ll cover her cunt. Okay, now, switch!).

Since that point, I have been a birthday surprise (on multiple occasions), the initiator of endeavors between individuals I was dating/fucking, the guide to swinging parties and clubs, the hostess of orgies, the fairy godmother of the threesome wish your “heart” makes, and an all around group sex pro. So how can I turn down an opportunity for hot group sex? Nyah, I’d rather make chicken and dumplings and read Tom Robbins.

sob story

so they are taking my computer back to reinstall the network card and the motherboard.
i am sad.

and i have all these great posts about fuckbuddies and threesomes and dating other sex people already typed out in word, but no access. and i'm in the middle of finals. and i have a shitload of office work i was planning on doing from home in queens instead of midtown on sunday.

and i still haven't heard about my cervix.

fuck me.

conflict resolution

i wrote a long post in class last night.
but when i got home, my computer and my internet got into a fight and are no longer speaking to each other. i was trying to mediate until one thirty, but then i figured i should give them a chance to cool off.
so tonight i will bring in an outside counselor. hopefully we'll be one happy family in the morning.

hpv and me

Cervical cancer? So does that mean you have hpv?
Yes, I have a strain (one of 30 some transmitted sexually, although there are over a hundred in all) of hpv (human papilloma virus). Current research shows 99.976…% of cervical cancer is linked to two or three types of hpv. Other strains cause things like plantar and genital warts.

Does this mean you have warts?
Nope. No warts for me. That’s a different type of hpv.

So you have an sti, but you have sex all the time? Have you no ethics?
Although condoms are not effective in preventing many strains of hpv that are transmitted via external skin to skin contact, especially those that cause genital warts (often in areas a condom does not cover). However, contemporary research shows condoms to be very effective in reducing the risk of transmission of the strains of hpv linked to cervical abnormalities.

But condoms obviously didn’t work for you. You have one of the craziest safer sex regimes I’ve ever heard of (condoms for sucking cock? Come on…)
First, in defense of my safer sex regime: I use condoms to suck cock because fellatio puts the dick at risk for gonorrhea, herpes, and syphilis, and puts the mouth at risk for those, plus wart-hpvs, Chlamydia, and hiv. I know this, so cock goes in my mouth and these stats pop in my head (one of the hazards of being an educated slut). Additionally, I’ve had major canker sores my whole life (thanks, dad) that could easily act as expressways for infection. No thank you.

In terms of condoms working for me, I was not always this educated. I grew up in Texas under the Bush as governor administration with abstinence only sex ed. I learned that sex equals pregnancy and if you have sex before you’re married, you will die of AIDS (and so will the baby). So despite being a horny little slut, I kept up with the “everything but” routine for almost seven years. Just after my 18th birthday (you can do the math for the age of my first blow job), I managed to end up in a motel room with a “friend” who was entering the coast guard reserves in the morning (so fucking cheesy, I know). Couldn’t buy condoms because 1) I’m the girl, duh and 2) condoms = premeditation and I had signed one of those virginity pledge thingies (both of which are horrible reasons, I know). Result, the ever-popular fallback of withdrawal and a significant chunk of time convinced I was pregnant (alright, a month) and HIV + (almost two years). And then there was that fun date rape incident my freshman year, unprotected vaginal and anal sex (my first time for that one), and that month I was going crazy on birth control fucking my gay boyfriend (another long story) raw because we’d both finally been tested. So, yes, I have my history of risk behavior. More than ample latex- and polyurethane-free moments for the hpv to lurk into my system.

Now you pay for your dirty whoring.
Although it is pretty impossible to know who one “receives” hpv (or herpes) from, I am almost positive it was from one of the above-mentioned “recreational” sexual endeavors, not a professional engagement. Furthermore, it is estimated over 80% of the sexually active population has some form of sexually transmitted hpv. They can’t all be whores (although if they were, we could start a movement).

So, does everyone with hpv die of cervical cancer?
Hardly. Most people with hpv never know they have it. Those who are lucky enough to have the types of hpv linked to cervical cancer may develop cervical dysplasias, but they usually go away on their own in under two years. As long as you catch it and monitor it, you can usually manage to avoid a death sentence.

80%!?! Fuck. How can I know if I have hpv?
Get a PAP smear. If it comes out abnormal, get a colposcopy. Although, just because your pap is cool doesn’t mean you don’t have hpv, you just don’t have an active symptomatic infection. Lucky you.

What about boys and other folks with penises (peni?)?
Anyone can get an anal pap, although it can be a challenge to find a doc to provide one. In terms of tests for penis, there isn’t really one available. If you have oodles of cash and a cooperative health care provider, you may be able to finagle a blood test, but unless it is for the specific strains of hpv you’re concerned about, it’s not much use. So you go on with your happy dicks, and let the cervixes and rectums rot away.

We’re not in a bitchy mood…
My cervix hurts so fuck off. Actually, it’s better today, but I have to wait two weeks for biopsy results (argh…). Until then, I am accepting CVs and resumes for potential sperm donors.

Joan Cussack Naked!

Lately I have been getting quite a few joan cussack search hits. Nice to know something came of the working girl anticlimax. The fun part is, many of these searches are for naked joan cussack pictures. Now, I would be interested in a little cussack seductress action. So if any of your searchers, or loyal readers, have some pretty pics to offer, email them already! I aim to please.

the rest of my life

I spent the week of thanksgiving in Tennessee and North Carolina, cruising in my rental car and hauling rocks around a mountain ridge. I feel so different when I’m in that region, better really. My tension dissipates, I breathe easier (despite allergies), and I stop thinking as much (in a good way). My accent returns and the make-up never makes an appearance. I chow down on starches and green beans (and sonic tator tots, oh yeah). And I think about the future. And how I fit.

I’m currently in the waiting room of my GYN (the beauty of my new laptop), waiting for a follow-up colposcopy. I had an abnormal pap back in july, and my first colposcopy confirmed the mild intraepithelial lesions (pre-cancerous fun!). itty bitty and resolved with a punch biopsy. But, being the sexual health research freak that I am, I consumed mass quantities of data and treatment modules. And I looked at dozens of gross pictures. Why? So if the colposcopy was performed with a video screen, as many offices offer, I could have a point of reference (well at least my cervix doesn’t look like THAT). In my research I learned of the cone biopsy. A cone biopsy removes a cone shape chunk from the center of your cervix. Gets rid of a nice hunk of any problems brewing, no more cancer, good stuff. But the repercussions are a little daunting. If you have a cone biopsy and later decide to carry a pregnancy to term, you may need to have your cervix sewn shut and be confined to bed rest for six months. Not cool.

So, I have developed a plan of action, to be implemented depending upon the results of today’s follow-up colposcopy. If everything is pink and normal and happy, I will continue having pap smears every six months, and go on with the baby around 30 plan. But if everything is not pretty, we go to plan b. Plan b (not to be confused with the progestin only emergency contraception pills) involves completing grad school in 1.5-2 years (not obscene) and then having the kid. When I’m 25-ish. Maybe in Houston, if my folks have moved back, so I can have an established support network for the first few years.

Eventually I want to end up in the smokies/blue ridge area (highway 64 between Chattanooga and the okoee mountains, baby). Have a one story two to three bedroom house with a chain link fence, dog, pottery wheel, and kid, and teach sex ed at local junior highs, high schools, community colleges, and senior centers (and even churches if they’ll have an agnostic tattooed bisexual single mom). That’s the ten year plan, but the turkey-baster tot may pop along a little sooner than anticipated. Eep.

Until then, I think I may need to get a dog this spring. I’ll be out of school and working 25 hours (plus additional work from home) so I could swing the necessary walking schedule. I have always thought having a dog in the city is mean, but I would be rescuing a city-doomed pooch from the local shelter and after a few months of bonding, whisk the bitch away to the land of weekend camping trips and evenings at the bay area duck pond.