by Laurelin

I promised I would never write about him again, and it’s amazing how easy that promise has been to keep. (This totally doesn’t count.) I haven’t wanted to, needed to. I’ve had nothing to say worth even remotely remembering. I remember this feeling before, just like all the others. That slow creeping suspicion that you feel fine, that he’s on your mind but not as close to the surface as he was the day before. With it comes this really stupid lost feeling: like, what am I going to DO now that I’m not thinking about it all the time? The answer is very simple: anything I fucking want.

I find myself smiling for no reason throughout the day because all of a sudden I’m no longer trapped in my own mind. I’m acutely aware of the sunlight shining off the top of the Prudential Center and how my city is so beautifully illuminated in the summer even in the midst of concrete. The Charles River glistens as I listen to the sound of my own feet slapping against the sidewalk and I’m running for me, not because he’ll only like me if I’m thin like all the other girls. I feel almost like this was a test, to see if I could pull myself out of the quicksand and be all the better for it.

Granted I haven’t been tested yet. I’m dreading the moment I run into him somewhere. I can imagine my blood turning to ice and my stomach turning. That’s one thing that never changed, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut every time I see him. One can only hope that whatever dreams he chooses to chase take him far away from where I’ve already found mine.

It’s cloudy in Boston today, and I’m shivering writing this on my porch on my day off. I’m planning my usual Tuesday night city waterfront sangria crawl and I have a new phone number in my phone and the memory of smiling last night at my bar, my heart pounding as I’m pouring this guy a drink and inviting him to come out –– someone new. I’ll go to the same spots and do the same things, but it will be different. Maybe tonight’s the night I’ll stop looking for him every time the door opens.

“What do you guys think?” I ask the waitresses once he finishes his drink and walks out.

“So. Hot,” they say, and I smile.

Outside on my porch, the clouds roll in as the wind picks up. It’s getting colder but I don’t care. For once it’s beautiful, not gray to match my mood. I could sit out here all day.

[..]

by Bradley Suicide

“I always tell the girls, never take it seriously, if ya never take it seriously, ya never get hurt, ya never get hurt, ya always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends.”
– Penny Lane, Almost Famous, 2000

Am I always going to be the Penny Lane?

That’s the question I find myself asking again and again. As I have stated previously, I have a thing for rock stars (yes, I mean that in the literal sense of the term). Past experience has taught me to lump the good in with the bad and roll with it. Dating a musician is hard enough, then you add the famous component and you can imagine how complicated things can get. Emotionally, I am in a constant state of turmoil. There is never a dull moment, that’s for sure. But that’s also probably half of the appeal. The uncertainty, the roaming from city to city, being the pretty girl on the arm, and knowing that – even though there are thousands of girls in the audience screaming for him – I’m the one that’s with him. That ‘jet-setting never know what you’re going to get’ life is one that I love and feed off of. But I can’t help but wonder, am I ever going to be the girl that they settle down with? Am I ever going to get my rock star version of happily ever after? Will I be the one that gets all of the kind words, the sweet looks, the hugs and the kisses, but not the commitment in the end when all is said and done? Am I going to always be the Marilyn and never the Jackie?

This thought began to eat at me. Especially because at the moment I am seeing someone that I could easily see myself being with for the long term if the chips fall that way. The more I pondered this, the more depressed I began to feel. So what did I do? I called my very close friend from back home. As I sat on the phone with him and painfully explained the situation he came at me with a point that made everything snap into focus. Below is what he told me,

“Screw all of that. Stay strong and confident in who you are. Own it. Be it. Say, ‘If I’m a Penny Lane then fuck ya I’m proud.’ There are a lot of people who go through life in denial, trying to fool themselves as to who they are. You have to know about yourself and who you are. You can’t live a genuine life unless you know who you are. Then own it and be who you are. You don’t have to apologize for anything. I look at it like this: if someone doesn’t like me that’s cool, I’m not here because I need you to justify my existence. I’m cool with who I am. Self awareness is sexy. Don’t apologize, don’t lie, and don’t cover up who you are. I attract people who are like-minded. I don’t have to pretend to be someone else.”

Those wise words, from a wise friend made everything so much more clear. Why would I ever want to be something that I’m not? I am who I am, and if you can’t handle me as a Marilyn for the long term then you just straight up don’t deserve me. Plus I would probably end up driving you crazy with my drunken antics and blonde girl escapades that you would end up with a heart condition and losing your hair from stress. Maybe it’s just like Carrie Bradshaw said, “Some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with” (I swear, those Sex & the City writers had shit on point).

Since talking with my friend I have also realized another excellent side of this whole equation. Some women would be happy being the Jackie. Getting wifed up, having the 2.5 kids, the white picket fence and having dinner ready to go when the hubby gets home from his 9-5…I am just not one of them. If I had to settle down and have a “normal” life I think I would become a horrible bitter and depressed mess. Maybe trying to be the Jackie is the worst thing for me, trying to fit that mold would be me trying to be something that I am not, a square peg in a round hole sort of a deal. Part of me wishes that I wanted the perfect little life of being on the PTA, having the dog named spot, the whole package, because I feel like my heart would be a lot more protected and life would be a lot less complicated. I just can’t see myself being happy with it.

So screw it. I have realized that I want something different from the average bear in every facet of my life, so why would my love life be any different? I have realized that I am who I am. I am a complicated, crazy, fun loving blonde who wants to be young, wild, and usually drunk. I want the life that I want and I am not going to worry about where it takes me. And I’m not changing myself to court others’ approval. Things will work out the way that they are supposed to and I will end up with MY version of happily ever after someday. I am really not sure at this point what that is, but who says that I need to know right now? I firmly believe that when I find it, I will know its right. So what if I am the Marilyn or the Penny Lane? If you don’t like it then I don’t need you in my life, simple as that. I am owning this part of me. I am not ashamed and I am not apologetic about who I am. If you can’t handle me then we aren’t meant to be, rock star or not.

I don’t know where this pothole-riddled road will take me, but riding that road across the world in a tour bus or two has made for a pretty fun trip so far. Party on.

Xoxo
Bradley

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by SG’s Team Agony feat. Seizure

Let us answer life’s questions – because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.

Q: I’ve been in a relationship with a girl for year. The problem is that she hates sex. Her ex-boyfriend abused her in and out of the bedroom. Now I don’t know how to return the desire. I am very passionate in bed but she is very monotonous and not very funny, and I think this is starting to affect me.

A: This is a hard situation to deal with I am sure. The best advice that I feel can be given is to make sure that the sex happens naturally. Don’t make plans for it because it will just put pressure on her and cause her to think and get stressed out. Make sure she is always comfortable with what is going on. If she has any triggers, then always avoid them. She will open up more and more when she feels safe and comfortable. Her self-esteem is probably shaken as well so help her to find her self-worth. Make sure she always knows how you feel about her, and how attractive and awesome you think she is. I think both physical and emotional comfort is the key to helping her to open up more during intimacy. If things don’t improve however, and it seems like they haven’t since you’ve already been dating for a year, you may want to encourage her to seek professional help.

<3 Seizure

Got Problems? Let SuicideGirls’ team of Agony Aunts provide solutions. Email questions to: gotproblems@suicidegirls.com

by Brad Warner

Yesterday someone sent me a link to a story in the New York Times about a guy who had died when he and his wife were expelled from a Buddhist retreat.

There is so much I could comment on this story that it’s hard to know where to begin. So I’ll begin with the title. If you look at the URL for the story it’s clear that the New York Times originally titled it “Mysterious Yoga Retreat Ends in Grisly Death” and then later changed it to “Mysterious Buddhist Retreat Ends in Grisly Death.” Which goes to show you just how much the mainstream media, and by extension the mainstream public, knows about Eastern religions. You fine folks who read my posts and follow the Buddhist magazines and websites and what-not know the difference. But like nerds of all kinds, we Eastern religion nerds often forget that there’s a whole wide world of people out there for whom Yoga and Buddhism and Hare Krishna and Zorastrianism and Sufiism and all the rest appear to be just one big very weird thing. It’s really important to keep in mind that those of us who do know the differences are a tiny, itty-bitty, teeny-weenie minority. To the rest of the world our pointing out that yoga and Buddhism are two different things seems about as relevant as the Godzilla geeks I used to know arguing about whether Godzilla is actually green or not (he’s not, by the way, except that recently sometimes he is).

This is important because it’s hard for me to imagine that anyone who participated in this retreat actually knew anything about Buddhism at all beyond what they heard from its leader, one Michael Roach Geshe. I would think that even a very cursory glance at some of the beginner’s level books about Buddhism would have alerted them to the fact that something rather odd was going on here.

For starters, the retreat these folks got expelled from was supposed to last three years, three months, and three days. That’s just too gosh darned long! The early Buddhists did three month retreats during the Indian rainy season when there wasn’t much else anyone could do. This tradition is carried on in many places in the form of what Japanese Buddhists call an ango, a retreat lasting around 90 days that typically occurs in the Summer (though spring, winter and fall angos are common these days too). Three months is pretty intense and there’s a good reason Buddha never recommended doing retreats any longer than that.

While reading the story I found myself wondering just how Mr. Roach Geshe justified such an excessively long retreat. A clue can be found on their website which says, “The word ‘enlightenment’ sounds vague and mystical, but the Buddha taught that it is quite achievable by deliberately following a series of steps. The three-year retreatants have been studying and practicing the steps very seriously for the last six or more years, and by going into the laboratory of solitary retreat they hope (to) realize the final goal taught by Lord Buddha.”

So they figured that if they went at it really hard for three years they’d get enlightened. Just like Lord Buddha. Lord Buddha? I’ve run across that designation for Gautama Buddha before and it always seems like a signal that something strange is afoot. I suppose whoever made it up thought that the designation Buddha (the Awakened One) wasn’t quite grand enough and chose to borrow the word “Lord” from Christianity in order to make Gautama seem more supernatural. Whenever I come across someone who talks about “Lord Buddha” I assume they want to make the point that Gautama Buddha is, to them, a kind of god.

Again, this flies in the face of what any introductory text will tell you about Buddha. It’s another clue that the folks who participated in this retreat were the same kinds of people who don’t know any more than the New York Times does about the differences between Buddhism and yoga and whatever else falls under the umbrella heading of Eastern spirituality.

I spend a lot of time on the internets shaking sock monkeys around and poking fun at people who advance all sorts of incredibly obvious hookum as “Buddhism.” This story drives home the point that this stuff isn’t always funny. In fact it can be very serious and very, very sad.

Apparently Mr. Roach Geshe was one of a growing number of people trying to link Buddhism with so-called “prosperity theology.” This is something that first appeared in American Protestant Christianity in the 1950s and claims that the real teaching of Christ was that if you followed him you could get rich. Which flies in the face of pretty much everything Jesus is reported to have said in the Bible. But the folks who follow prosperity Christianity seem to know as little about what’s in the Bible as the people who follow prosperity Buddhism know about what Buddha taught.

I can see the appeal of prosperity theology. Look, I’m going to move to Los Angeles in a week. You best believe that if I thought I could pray my way to a higher income I’d be praying all the time! But I’m extremely skeptical of words like “prosperity” and “abundance” as they are used by middle class Westerners of the early 21st century. Compared to most of the rest of the world, we already start out with way more than we really need. Yet we still want more because our economically driven society continuously emphasizes the need to consume. If we can find some religious justification for greed we’ll grab it. It’s very attractive. I don’t think any of us are completely immune its charm. I certainly am not.

But, again, even a quick look through the most basic books about Buddhism — or, for that matter, a scan through any of the gospels — will tell you that Buddhism is definitely not compatible with prosperity theology — and neither is Christianity. Yet if these things are advanced by people who appear to be authorities, who wear the right robes and speak in the correct way, a lot of folks who really ought to know better will swallow them whole.

I’m not sure if it’s easier to dupe people into thinking any old spiritual sounding nonsense you make up is Buddhism than it is to dupe people about our more familiar religions. If people want to believe this kind of stuff they’re going to. But I feel like I’m going to have to keep pointing out that not everything that calls itself “Buddhism” has anything at all to do with Buddhism for quite a while.

Mr. Roach Geshe has posted a very long open letter on his website describing his take on what happened. Amidst a lot of ass-covering language there emerges a description of a retreat that was really far too intense for any of its members. Silent retreats with small groups of people often cause those among the group who may already have psychological difficulties to experience those difficulties even more intensely than they might experience them in a more “normal” setting. Of course people go off in the midst of straight society all the time. But there’s nothing like an intense spiritual retreat to really bring these things to the surface. The more intense the practice, the more likely it’s going to cause someone’s psyche to crash and burn.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, when you’re getting into meditation practice you’re dealing with some serious mojo, this is not to be taken lightly. And if you think you need a more intense or extreme practice to get you into the deeper stuff faster…you most assuredly do not. It’s absolutely crucial to take this stuff slowly. If you try to rush it, bad things will happen. We’re all full of lots of bad stuff. If you think you can push right through into the great enlightenment of Lord Buddha without first dealing with your own accumulated negative shit, you’re dead wrong.

Brad Warner is the author of Sex, Sin and Zen: A Buddhist Exploration of Sex from Celibacy to Polyamory and Everything in Between as well as Hardcore Zen, Sit Down and Shut Up! and Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate. He maintains a blog about Buddhist stuff that you can click here to see. You can also buy T-shirts and hoodies based on his books, and the new CD by his band Zero Defex now!
[..]

by Blogbot

This Sunday, June 10th at 10 PM PST, SuicideGirls Radio host Nicole Powers and co-host Moxi Suicide will be joined in studio by Jessie Nicole, Michelle, and Vanessa from LA’s Sex Workers Outreach Project for a panel discussion about the unique issues their clients face.

Sex Workers Outreach Project is a social justice network dedicated to ending violence and stigma against sex workers through education and advocacy. SWOP works to create a strong community of sex workers and allies to support each other and educate the public on the institutional harms committed against sex workers.

Sex workers are seldom afforded protection or recourse from violence because of the precarious relationship between sex work and law enforcement. Violence against sex workers is tolerated because of the stigma and myths that surround the sex industry. Only when those falsehoods are corrected and sex workers are legitimized will we be able to effectively prevent and minimize the harsh challenges of sex work.

For more info on SWOP-LA visit: swoplosangeles.org/

Listen to SG Radio live Sunday night from 10 PM til Midnight PST at: suicidegirlsradio.indie1031.com/

[..]

by Jen Friel

On Twitter a week and a half ago I jokingly tweeted out that I hoped the next guy I dated had a foot fetish so I could get my feet rubbed. See, I recently started jogging in the morning and while my booty is getting into shape nicely, my feet are suffering from the extra pavement pounding.

What I didn’t expect from that one tweet however was the OVERWHELMING demand from guys actually wanting to help. Now, I know from a dear friend of mine who is formerly a porn star that feet are the number three fetish, just behind butts and boobs (pun intended) – but I had yet to actually find a guy to date that was into it. I then received an EXTREMELY heartfelt email that changed everything for me.

Here’s the actual email, in which the sender explains his history…

Hi Jen,

Because you’re interested in having me massage your feet, and intrigued by foot fetishism in general, I wanted to tell you about my foot fetish history.

For as long as I can remember, I was preoccupied by women’s feet. When my parents female friends would visit the house, I would stare at their feet. I was equally obsessed with the feet of girls my own age. I have always loved women’s feet. And my submissive impulses were already there as early as 3 years old: I had fantasies of being a butler, a servant. I had one babysitter who would plop down on the couch and I’d bring her drinks and snacks and she would rest her feet on my face while she watched TV. Good gig for her. But I was happy; I needed feet in my face – even back then.

By the time I was actually kissing girls and fooling around, the fetishism and submissive tendencies were completely buried. It’s interesting to note that VERY EARLY ON, i realized this was considered to be weird and taboo. So my sex life was normal through my teens.

My junior year of college was the first time I lived away from home and had access to the internet. I immediately began exploring my fantasies online. This was the late ‘90s and the internet was new to me.

I looked up foot fetish and BDSM porn and I realized I wasn’t alone in my desires. I had also found a book in Barnes & Nobles called Different Loving. It was a sympathetic view of power exchange / BDSM interactions with many personal essays. It shocked my system. I read almost the entire thing right there in the aisle. But I still felt intensely shameful. I felt like a creep, like a loser. And of course, there are plenty of people out there who would say that foot fetishists are indeed creeps, losers, or worse (is this online? – just look at the comments below).

Fast-forward a few years. I had moved to New York City. And much like I responded to your “foot fetish / I want my feet massaged” post, I wrote an email to a professional Dominatrix who lived in Manhattan. We arranged to meet. I went over to her “studio” where she conducted her BDSM sessions. We discussed my interests. And long story short, she made me her “houseboy.” This wasn’t a professional arrangement. I wasn’t her client. This was a personal, mistress/slave thing.

For over 5 years – FIVE YEARS ! – once a week, I would go over to either her studio or her apartment, sometimes both, and clean for her. I would run errands. I would give her massages. And she would reward all of this service by allowing me to worship her feet. The arrangement ended when I moved out here to Los Angeles.

I’m still in touch with my former Mistress. And she was instrumental in encouraging me to be honest with my current girlfriend. Instead of being secretive, I was able to be honest and up front about my desires. Listening to the Savage Love podcast didn’t hurt either; I could hear Dan Savage calling me a “piece of shit asshole” if I tried on the idea of going to see a Dominatrix behind my girlfriend’s back – and he would have been correct to call me that.

So after years of shame and secrecy, I did the unthinkable and came clean to my GF. I told her that I have a foot fetish, that I have the desire to be dominated by other women. And I explained that this was a compartmentalized impulse, distinct from the romantic love and sex we shared.

Guess what: She completely understood and gave me her blessing. It was life changing. Someone I loved more than anyone in the world was accepting me for who I am.

It made something that I admit is weird feel more normal. Everyday, since my girlfriend’s acceptance of me, I’ve felt more healthy, true, and peaceful.
My biggest epiphany was that this was really about humiliation. I’m someone who requires humiliation to feel sexual. So someone ordering me to pick up a coffee or dry cleaning and then allowing me to get on the floor and pamper their feet while they relax or work – that really does it for me.

BTW: you can Wikipedia this shit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erotic_humiliation

I hope all of this intrigues you. Let me add one more thing…

It’s really, deeply upsetting that foot fetishists or people into BDSM or whatever are considered to be FREAKS. If you Googled “foot fetish” or do a key word search in Twitter, I’m sure there are people saying tons of negative shit.

You can’t choose what gets you off. There are kids killing themselves because they’re gay and they’re in environments where being gay is shit on, where they’re told they’re going to burn in hell, or that they’re just plain freaks. Sexual shame is seriously intense.

The people who are quick to shit on foot fetishists – calling them freaks, or leaping to an even more absurd presumption that they’re dangerous – I bet a ton of those people would be quick to be like, ‘Of course it’s OK to be gay!’ Meanwhile, not realizing that people who have foot fetishes are just as hurt and shameful and often closeted because of their desires. There is an absolute parallel. (And look: I have to admit that foot fetishists do creepy things. But I believe this is a result of being closeted and desperate. I get that there’s a reason for this reputation. I guess I’m just saying it’s a shame.)

So you have no idea how grateful I’ve been in my life to meet people who are like, “Let me get this straight: you’re going to worship me like a Goddess, I don’t have to say ‘thank you’ or even be nice, and in return all you want is my feet? GREAT.: It is pretty fucking great and mutually rewarding if you have an open mind.

This is long. I could say a lot more. But I hope foot fetishism continues to intrigue you and that you see it can be pretty cool.

How awesome is that? He’s so upfront and honest – but I could FEEL the shame bleeding onto my monitor. This man was so closeted with his fetish and desperately seeking an outlet.

We outlined each of our boundaries and after about 40 emails back and forth, we finally agreed to meet at a public place last Friday.

I have to say this experience hands down changed my life. He approached me in the park with sunglasses and a hat on, but quickly asked me if he could put on his hood. “Yes,” I said, noticing that other people weren’t around (and even if they were – I didn’t care).

He then went to town for about a half an hour rubbing not just the base of my feet, but also in between my toes and all the way up my calf. I watched his body shake as he found certain “sweet spots” – and while having my feet rubbed does nothing for me sexually, in this moment it allowed me to explore the dominant side of my personality. Here is this guy laying on the grass literally WORSHIPING my feet and my only job was to ignore him and be as mean to him as possible.

FYI, I literally do not have a mean bone in my body. I’m pretty much all about jelly beans and rainbows twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, constantly seeing the bright side of things. In this moment, and in this position, I got to explore the dark side and all I can say is that I WANT MORE!!!

It was so liberating being so…bitchy. There is clearly a side of my personality that I had suppressed – much like this guy and his fetish. I can’t wait to get more into it and really let the dominant side of my personality come out to play.

This relationship is TOTALLY beneficial for both of us and I only hope this post can inspire more women to do the same. Here I am thinking foot fetish guys are “creepy” and in fact I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s also helping me grow and become a better person by exploring a place of discomfort.

Foot fetish guys aren’t “creepy” ladies – they are just closeted. Why not explore the dark side yourself? Who knows, like me, you may enjoy it!

If feet are your thing, you may want to join our Foot Fetish Friends of SG group.

Jen Friel is a lifecaster and corporate sponsored minimalist. She went out on over 103 dates in 9 months while couch surfing for a year building her website and bartering social media to live. Consequently, she’s an accidental expert on online dating. You can read all about her ongoing adventures on OKCupid at TalkNerdyToMeLover.com and follow them on Twitter.

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by Bradley Suicide

I am generally the girl that thinks like a guy when it comes to matters of the heart. I try and turn off emotion and build up my walls as a matter of shear self preservation. I don’t think this is the healthiest of things, but it is what it is, and at least for now it seems to work for me. That is until I run into that one dude who pulls at my heart strings.

I have a thing for boys with rockstar mentalities, who live life in the limelight. I must be a glutton for punishment. These are the only boys who are able to get under my skin, and with whom I let my guard down. Sadly, these are also the boys who drag me through the mud.

The worst part is that I can see how things will end from the very beginning. And yet I jump in head first anyways. I think a small part of my normally jaded brain wants to still believe in the fairytale ending.

I have recently found myself falling head over heels for someone that I have been seeing for some time now. However, I didn’t know how deep I was into him emotionally until today. I guess I was in denial, telling myself that if I didn’t want to have feelings for him that they just wouldn’t formulate, a mind over matter sort of situation. Well that definitely didn’t work.

I told myself from the beginning that I needed to tread lightly and not have any expectations. I thought that I was doing great at this and that I was walking into the whole situation with a good mindset. I told myself that I was just there for fun and if it led to something else great, but I wasn’t going to count on it. Maybe I thought that if I told myself that enough I would be able to escape the fate that I knew in my heart of hearts was inevitable. I don’t think I could have been more wrong.

The worst part is that there really isn’t anything to be mad at him for, he is being a typical guy. Maybe this is all karma coming back around to bite me in the ass? After all, I am generally the one who, unintentionally mind you, will crush a dudes heart within a week’s time.

Want to hear the worst part of all of it? This just makes me want him more. How screwed up am I? I am knowingly walking into a situation where I am going to get the living shit beat out of my emotions. My head is saying to cut and run, my heart is saying to stick around, and my pride is telling me that I am not a quitter and that this has become a conquest.

So here I go, embarking on a game of cat and mouse that is going to end with me either getting what I want, getting caught and squished, or, what generally tends to happen with me, a mixture of all of the above. Wish me luck in my endeavor. I know that I sound like a crazy person who doesn’t have my head screwed on straight, and that is a pretty accurate assessment, after all I’m knowingly getting myself into this.

Someone get me a shot of Jack a let the games begin.

Until next time.

Bradley
xoxo

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