The Definition of Consent in “Consensual Sex”

 

I am not a guy … and will never be one. (Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing will be for history to decide.)

I do have friends who are males; and my bestfriend in the whole world possesses an X and a Y chromosome. Most of what I know about maleness, I learned from him, so if my ideas are wrong, he is probably to blame 🙂

***

This morning, I got to thinking about hazing in fraternities and the morbidities and mortalities that arise of such practice.

Full disclosure: my bestfriend (the one who has the XY chromosome) went through such a practice himself and survived. So, that is my bias.

The thing is:

  1. There is a term called “informed consent.” And while the concept has been originally applied to medical procedures that will be done on a patient, the idea as a metaphor can apply in this case.
  2. People who enter fraternities are assumed to be adults (fraternities are banned in high schools and people below 18 are not allowed to join by the college).
  3. Adults are presumed to know what they want.
  4. It is not a big secret that initiation rites that may/may not involve hazing happen in fraternities. Like, hello, I may have been a naive ignorant virgin at 22 but even I knew that when my then boyfriend said he was paddled, it didn’t mean that they went kayaking.
  5. The adult neophyte was not bullied into joining, not coerced, not forced in any way — at least ideally that should be the case. Systemic factors may come into consideration like, some fields (dare I say Law School?) may have the reputation among undergrads that say “success in later career will be determined by being a Greek or non-Greek”, hence the pressure. But still, hey you are an adult, and a law student at that, and you caved in to peer pressure and allowed yourself to be humiliated and physically molested when you didn’t want to? What kind of lawyer will you turn out to be? I mean, just saying.
  6. This is where my data is hazy: the neophyte, can say “no” at anytime during the hazing process.

***

Now if you are wondering, why I kept blabbing about hazing when the title of my article is about consensual sex. Then read this:

Judge accused of ‘victim blaming’ for saying women risk rape by getting drunk

I have never seen, for the life of me, an argument in a hazing case that goes like this: “Neophyte was asking to die by getting into an organization that he knows involves an initiation rite where other guys will paddle him to death.”

Seriously.

***

In conclusion: the correct question during a trial investigating hazing where a victim died is “did, at any point in time, he say no?”

***

 

 

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Romance (film), 1999

I watched Romance because I googled Rocco Siffredi, who apparently, according to G, is one of the more phenomenal porn male stars there are. Thank you G 🙂 🙂

 

The movie is brave for its time.

We must remember that in 1999, the internet was just a baby (or maybe a toddler). Emails were used primarily for business/academic purposes, MIRC chatrooms were the norm, “blog” is an unheard of word, there was no Facebook (Twitter was just a dream), internet porn was in the fetal stage.

On the other hand, video porn was available way back in the 1960s.

Romance by writer-director Catherine Breillat is not porn. Though, one can understand why a lot of people would think of it as such. It garnered XXX ratings in several countries. And it did feature explicit sex scenes, masturbation scene, cunnilingus, fellatio, BDSM, rape — you name it, it has it; except for bestiality, necrophilia and other conditions that may be considered pathologic.

The raciest thing it was accused of was featuring unsimulated sex between the lead actress Caroline Ducey and eye candy Rocco Siffredi.

Ladies and gentlemen (especially the gentlemen), take it from me, speaking as someone who has had sex in all manners of undress and in various positions before, Caroline and Rocco did not have unsimulated sex.

It is difficult, well at least uncomfortable for the man, to enter a vagina in that position. Trust me — or try it, whichever you prefer.

That must be the reason why, as Roger Ebert said in his review, “At a screening at the Toronto Film Festival there was some laughter, almost all female, but I couldn’t tell if it was nervous, or knowing.”

Roger, darling, the women were laughing because it was funny. Rocco and Caroline could not have had sex, like penis-in-vagina sex, because if they had done so, Rocco would have sued Catherine Breillat for a broken (or fractured) penis — which medically, is not an impossible condition.

The female audience may also have been laughing at the BDSM scene between Francois Berleand and Caroline Ducey. Their second BDSM encounter is really funny. Again, try it, to understand why.

It has been 18 years since Romance was screened. Thank God, I did not see it in 2012, otherwise, I would have had some seditious ideas (knowing how impressionable I was) and G would probably have had a nasty headache on his hands.

In any case, between 1999 and 2017:

  • the World Trade Center was destroyed by terrorists,
  • in a certain Southeast Asian country: Erap Estrada was booted out of office, GMA became a fake president for 9 years and Noynoy Aquino became the highest leader in a country despite being single and accused (probably unjustified) of autism (what is so wrong with being autistic, I have no idea, people with Asperger’s can lead perfectly happy and productive lives), then he was succeeded by self-confessed murderer, Rodrigo Duterte (proving that the Philippines as a nation is the one with mental disability)
  • Friendster then Multiply then Facebook then WordPress then Twitter then Instagram were born … yipee!!
  • Sheryl Sandberg became a CEO of Facebook, ditto for Marissa Mayer of Yahoo,
  • Sex and the City re-defined how we see women who do (and I mean “do” in all sense of the word, prurient or otherwise), Girls finished 6 seasons and it redefined how we see women (or girls) interact with each other and the men (or boys) in their lives
  • Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James became (undeservedly or not) a book and movie phenomenon (in the financial sense),
  • the Arab Spring happened,
  • Rocco Siffredi retired from porn (2004), then returned to porn (2009), then retired again (2015)

A lot of things can happen in 18 years.

When Romance was screened and Roger Ebert watched it, he had this to say:

“… the film has an icy fascination. Perhaps it is a test of how men and women relate to eroticism on the screen. I know few men who like it much (sure proof it is not pornographic). Women defend it in feminist terms, but you have the strangest feeling they’re not saying what they really think.”

It is my opinion that the reviewer sounded defensive or maybe baffled? I cannot blame the guy — he is a male, after all.

I wonder, though, what he will say about it now.

Margaux Is Faking It (a short story)

 

“I’m gonna fuck your ass, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Ugh, ugh”

“Yes, fuck me in the ass, fuck me in the ass.”

I yawned. This Chinese-looking guy with a big dick is totally having the time of his life pummeling behind me, uncaring whether my head is hitting the wall with the force of his thrusts.

Men are such pigs.

I really didn’t care much about him; but he looked cute, I was wasted and horny and he wanted to fuck. So hell. Yeah.

The foreplay is routine, to be honest. Lip-sucking, breast sucking,  cunt-fingering – he didn’t go down on me, what a dope. But I got off. Kinda.

It’s getting harder and harder to go off these days.

And dammit, I need to go off. My work which I totally love is totally fucking me.

Like yesterday. I went to this meeting. Or hearing. Whatever.

It’s on fake news. And it was held in the grand, august halls of the Senate. And this porky-looking senator had the temerity to show up. What an asshole! He’s a pig, really. His wife died of cancer and I fucked him once. I don’t even think he remembers. Those were the days when I was desperate … like money-desperate.

I am not so desperate now. I have my page, my following. I have the ear of the most important man of the land. And he likes me. And he’s like my dad (in my mind I call him Big Daddy). He brings me on trips. He thinks I’m smart and funny and just … we are just having fun together. I tried to seduce him once, but he couldn’t get it up anymore, poor guy. So I just blew him. He was very grateful. His cum tasted like  durian.

“Let’s get on the bed, baby,” the big oaf behind me is saying.

“Huh?” I say. I walk the few steps to the king-sized bed in this space-age themed motel room in the capital city. I love this motel. I have a lot great memories here. I don’t know if this will be one of them.

“Now baby grab your tits. Yeah like that.” I lie supine and make myself comfortable. I do as he says. He hunkers over me and licks my nipples. Please … what is it with guys and nipples? I mean, 70% of those I fuck have this thing with nipples.  I’m like, you’re such babies, get a fucking pacifier. I want him to go down on me. But I forgot to shave, and men generally like dealing with your clit only if they can see it. Otherwise, they don’t bother.

I let my mind wander. So yesterday was not so bad. My bosses did not throw me under the bus or anything. They were very protective, actually. (They should take care of me, of course; or they will answer to their boss, Big Daddy.)

I haven’t seen Big Daddy for several days now. He was busy going around the country pacifying the military troops. He’s paranoid about coup d’etat. I laugh at him when he goes all serious like that. I remind him that 16 million of his people want him in office. The military is putz, because he is the rightful king, I mean, leader.

But he told me that this country is fickle-minded and he has to cover all his bases. Poor Big Daddy, he’s so stressed. Last week, he had a showdown with this ex-convict senator who had the gall to accuse Big Daddy of corruption. Big Daddy had to defend himself. Too bad the info this bastard Snoopy gave us was fake; Big Daddy was burned. Snoopy would have to die, of course. Scum.

“Ugh, ugh … you are totally hot, babe. Grab my ass.”

I roll my eyes. My legs are hanging on his shoulders and he’s pummeling on me again. I want to tell him: you have to pace yourself, dude. But guys are dicks, they will go limp the moment you give them instructions.

Anyway, yesterday, I thought I was doing well until Senator Piolo came. He’s an autistic nerd, honestly. I wonder how he fucks his wife. Darling, I can’t find your clitoris, let me grab my map? I swear, he must have memorized Masters and Johnson’s before his wedding night. His wife is a limp-faced, elitist bitch. I hope she  is anorgasmic.

Senator Piolo is a total dope. He had the temerity to make fun of Roy. But Roy is smart and very bitchy. I love Roy; we went shopping in Prada that day in Dubai. Roy’s blog has 700,000 followers, way less than mine (only 4 million, bitch) but when I tease him about him, he just laughs and says most of mine are bots. He has a dark sense of humor, but I love him.

Senator Piolo, in his high-and-mighty chair, really went hard on Roy. But Roy held his own. Afterwards, I whispered to him, next time, we’ll gut the nerd. Roy laughed and gave me a high five.

I feel myself getting wet again. Good, great … ahh … so this big, dumb oaf knows what he is doing after all. He pumps like a piston and now he’s gonna kiss me. I take his tongue, taste the apple in his breath. I suck him; he sucks me. He bites my lip. I give myself to the pleasure, riding high on dope and cock. Hell, fuck. Yeah.

 

***

“Was it great for you babe?” he asks me after.

I think on his question. I remember yesterday when the nerd asked me: “Were you fair when you wrote those stuff about me?”

I look at the Chinese-looking guy in the eye and say: “Definitely.”

 

 

 

How To Fake an Orgasm (or Orgasms, plural)

(Ana’s POV)

Image from strongafrocentricmindsets.blogspot.com

Image from strongafrocentricmindsets.blogspot.com

Meg Ryan gave you a general idea. And her performance should have earned her an Oscar if the Academy were all females.

Faking an orgasm is just like any other worthy endeavor. One has to perform it with sincerity to pull it off.

First, one has to know what an orgasm feels like to be able to fake one.

And yes, I have had it, thank you very much. A lot of girls haven’t though. Or they may be unsure, confused if they have had it or not. Believe me, girls, you will know. No ifs or buts about it.

Orgasms are like that perfect pair of strappy high-heeled shoes, they defy explanation. They fit your feet like a dream; they make you feel sexy and they don’t give you calluses afterwards. I haven’t found the perfect high heels yet. But I am optimistic that I will find one. Eventually.

Image from thefishybowl.wordpress.com

Image from thefishybowl.wordpress.com

So orgasms. Second of all, it’s not really about the penis-in-vagina. (Sorry lesbian friends; I can only talk  about the heterosexual perspective.) A girl can have an orgasm while washing dishes (although it is not advisable because one can drop a perfect piece of china and that would be a lousy day); or while watching Chris Pratt save the universe in a movie. One can have an orgasm in the shower (make sure you are using a bath mat so you won’t slip) or even in the library (the Reserve Section is a nice place because there are few people around; just make sure to tone down your vocalistic emissions). Still, the best place to have an orgasm is one’s bed preferably with someone you are madly in lust with. Please take note that one does not have to be in love to have the big O. Though, sex with a loved one belongs (in my opinion) in a different category of orgasms; or even a different category of sex.

I haven’t faked one with Christian (not that I know of). That would just entail too much work; requiring energy that I do not have inclination to expend. Besides, he knows me like the back of his hand so faking it with him will be like deceiving myself.

Image from mirror.co.uk

Image from mirror.co.uk

It is best to fake orgasms with a stranger or a new lover. However, a warning: faking it in the beginning of a relationship may doom that relationship even before it has started. If you can’t be honest with a man you are having sex with, what is the point of staying with him in the long term? Oh yeah, there is also money, power, security (emotional or otherwise) or self-deception. I get that girls — we gotta do what we gotta do. But then, don’t expect orgasms.

On a positive note, we don’t need orgasms  to live a meaningful life.

But it sure will be a life that is lot less fun 🙂

Sex and the RH Law

From slideshare. Dr. Darleen Estuart's slides: "Reproductive Health and Responsible Sexuality", presented at the Mindanao Young Women Leader's Congress, 2011

From slideshare. Dr. Darleen Estuart’s slides: “Reproductive Health and Responsible Sexuality”, presented at the Mindanao Young Women Leader’s Congress, 2011.

The wonderful thing about blogging is that after a draining day at work, you find a post that gets your blood pressure up again.

So Tito Sotto and Loren Legarda have made budget cuts against the Reproductive Health Law. Somehow I am not surprised.They will both claim “personal/religious convictions” and “prioritization of other more important matters” in their decision; but the truth is, they find it easy to undermine a law that would give more reproductive freedom for women because they have never been …

  1. A 35 year old multigravid with a pedicab driver for a partner who depends on free RH services at the health center to limit her pregnancies …
  2. A doctor/nurse/midwife who works as a frontliner in said health center who feels helpless when the multigravid comes to her and the only thing you can offer is “counselling on natural family planning” — which does not work, by the way; the 35-year-old-multigravid has tried it before ….
  3. A 16 year old teenager whose parents both have lover number 2; the teenager wants to leave the family house to live with her 18 year old “kargador” boyfriend who at least has a job ….
  4. A barangay health worker (BHW) who wants to help this teenager but is feeling very demoralized because the program for teenage pregnancy prevention will not take off because of lack of funds. Imagine, there has been a so-called Adolescent health program for years, but it’s all on paper. So BHW is embarrassed with the community because this program is just a bunch of crap …. because the policy makers wouldn’t put their money (which is actually not their money, but the people’s money) where their effing mouths are ….
  5. A 40 year old multigravid who wants a bilateral tubal ligation and (at the moment) can’t get it for free because the hospital says she has to buy this and that medication for the procedure. Ah yes, Philhealth did say BTLs are free — well Philhealth kindly have discussion with hospital regarding the definition of “free” ….
  6. A  nurse working for PopCom (Population Commission) who has just been told by the district health officer that no we are not offering  the very effective contraceptive implant at the moment because there are no supplies coming from the central office. Poor PopCom nurse, who has to explain this to the young mothers who just want to space their pregnancies and want to use a convenient way to do it.

…. etc etc

It can be very hard to empathize with women who want reproductive health services because hey, it wouldn’t kill them not to have sex, right? They would just have to abstain or use natural family planning methods or the withdrawal method. Yes I am being sarcastic. And by the way, the withdrawal method is not a reliable form of contraception, having a failure rate of more than 20%.

Seriously! Has Tito Sotto tried withdrawal before? Has Loren? Have they tried calendar, Billing’s, BBT;  and do they know how much commitment and effort is required of a couple who wants to use these methods?

I mean … is sex such a luxury in this country? If you are poor, better forego sex and be celibate if you don’t want to get pregnant?

I find it ironic: in a world where sex is so common (in television, in movies — commodities that we sell to poor women, and which they buy, because hey it is entertainment and some of us really need to be entertained to forget the drudgery of our lives), it is also a world that deprives women of opportunities to have freedom over their bodies.

If I am a girl ( oh fuck! I am one) I would like my government to help me achieve the maximum amount of freedom I can have with my body. A lot of people (mostly men) would not agree. They would say, reproductive health and all things related to sex are private that should not be meddled with by the government. But …. love and marriage are also private things, a compact between two people, but we all know the government has a lot to say about them.

 

Sex Ed

She had known him for two years before asking him the questions she was really curious about.

These questions are not the ones discussed in school; certainly not in the one-semester health-education-knowing-your-body course she and other public school teenagers in her country generally have. What her high school teacher said about s-e-x boiled down to: 1. Don’t do it while you’re young; 2. It’s okay to do it if you’re married; 3. Children are its worthy by-product; all the rest (and maybe that includes orgasms) are after-thoughts.

That was circa 1990s, of course; and her teacher was a 50-year old straight-laced,  PhD-holding, tenured university professor, who always wore skirts.

Now she wonders, why do grown-ups never tell you the interesting parts about sex like:

* What is it like to lose one’s virginity?

* Why do people  who should know better (being educated and well-informed) claim that they do not want to have children and yet do not use contraception? Is it laziness? Being sucked in the “heat of passion” (a line she learned in a romance novel)?

* What’s the big deal about having children anyway? Does one really need to have one before one dies? For what? To fulfill a biological imperative?

* What do orgasms feel like?

What her skirt-wearing, well-meaning high-school teacher failed to mention; what all those who have had sex fail to mention when they talk about what you are and are not missing when you have sex, is the immense power-play involved among penises and vaginas.

Was it Andrea Dworkin who supposedly said that all heterosexual intercourse is rape? But that was just a myth, wasn’t it?

After Alice and Jonas first had sex (oh the word!), the emotions that overwhelmed her were:

1. feeling owned by and bound to this person who may or may not stay in her life for very long (“owned” and “bound” are such loaded words, very un-feminist, but that’s what she felt, no matter what Andrea Dworkin might say),

2. worry that a single sperm managed to pass through an improbable pore in the condom that they used and she will get pregnant,

3. a sense of wonder that sex was not as bad as they said it can be and that it actually exceeded her expectations,

4. curiosity about “where this all might lead to.”

***

Flash forward to now…

She is holding his hand, or maybe he is holding hers — they are lying down facing each other after you-know-what. And his eyes are closed. And Alice is thinking, his eyelashes look so much more nicer than mine, how can that be.

Alice: So I want to ask you a question.

Jonas: Uhhmm …

Alice: What did it feel like for you the first time you had sex? Were you worried, apprehensive, excited? Did you think it would change your life or change you inside? Did you have performance anxiety or were you just happy you were finally doing it? Were you concerned about getting an STD or getting the girl pregnant? Did you even think about STD or pregnancy at all?

It is a long time before Jonas answers that Alice thinks he has fallen asleep.

“I felt that I was doing something right,” he finally says. “But afterwards, you were crying, so for a moment there I was worried that you will go to the police and report that it was rape.”

Jonas kisses her nose, opens his eyes and smiles.

Alice has her answer.

 

Half Truths

And so to bed. This is where the power shifts. If hes good for you in bed, youre now in trouble. If youre good for him, hes now in trouble. Bed is the fulcrum of the power shift.  (Erica Jong)

***

It is the truth – and like most truths, is only a half of the whole Truth – that the only time Jonas can shut Alice up is when he kisses her.

Alice has been musing about this hard-to-digest fact while reading up on the very dry, very boring topic of myths about gender as proposed by the American intellectual Anne Fausto-Sterling.

Fact: Jonas was the first male to have ever kissed her,  and the first person she has ever had sex with. True, she is probably limiting her education by not exploring other amorous options. However,  it is entirely possible to prove a point using one subject instead of a sample of 100.  Alice just can’t figure out exactly what that point is.

Fact: Sex with another person can rattle someone in a way that masturbation can’t. Maybe it is because of the foreign-ness of having another person’s body-part insinuating itself into yours. She has long dispensed with the requisite Catholic guilt and neurosis that accompanies masturbation. But still, a week, a month, 6 months  after you-know-what happened, she is still not sure if the experience had given her something, or if she’s simply been had.

Fact:  She considers it an act of kindness to have told him that she loves him long before she was certain what it meant to say “I love you”.  Until now, she is suspicious of this entity, this label, this concept that flows so easily from his mouth; and  yet so difficult for her to acknowledge.

Over-analysis has probably been the downfall of many women (and men) who cannot trust the truth that what they feel is what they feel; and, anyway, to hell with psychology!

Last night,  they were working in this apartment; he in his laptop, she in hers.

Kim was out (saving the dregs of broken humanity in the government hospital  where she was on surgical duty) so Alice and Jonas had the place all to themselves. Before she went,  Kim reminded Alice of the electric and water bills to be paid; and told Jonas that the pipes in the kitchen are busted again and can he “sweetie please” kindly see if he can do something about it. As usual,  Jonas was his usual cheerful self acquiescing with Kim’s request.

Alice felt it imperative to point out: “It really is not your job to fix our pipes; I can easily call a handyman;  there are a lot of them around Malate who needs the work.”

“It’s okay, I want to do it.”

“Have you fixed a broken pipe before?”

“No. But it’s pretty straightforward. I can figure it out.”

“Or you will just google it.”

“Correct.”

What Alice hates is the self-assured way he said “correct”;  the self-assured way he barges into her life.  Appearing and disappearing at regularly irregular intervals  with no explanations in between.  Telling her that he loves her and expecting her to believe it. She hates it that he appears to feel hurt when she put that so-called “love” into rational scrutiny.

She hates it that she can stay put when he can’t.

(Teaching oneself to get used to having another person around is as difficult as teaching oneself to get used  to not having him around)

Fact: what Alice hates is that Jonas can so effortlessly make her feel like a “girl”.