Greta Christina's Blog

Multiple Marriage and the Texas Polygamy Case: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog, about the Texas polygamy case. At first I didn't think I was going to write about it, since I didn't think I had anything original to say about it. (Pretty much what I had to say about it was, "Oh, my god, that is so awful.") But then someone asked me what I thought of the question of legalizing multiple marriage -- in general, as well as in light of the polygamy cults -- and I decided to write this piece. It's called, somewhat unimaginatively, Multiple Marriage and the Texas Polygamy Case, and here's the teaser:

One of the main objections to legalizing multiple marriage is that, in the world as it is today, multiple marriages tend to be abusive. Groovy polyamorous triads aren't the norm, the argument goes. The norm for multiple marriage, in this country and around the world, is coercive and abusive religious cults that effectively imprison women and children. And if we don't have laws against multiple marriage, these abusive cults will be legitimized, and there will no protection for their victims.

I’m not sure whether that's true or not. I don't know if anyone has ever done a good, careful study on the frequency of multiple relationships, either in this country or around the world, to see if the coerced cult variety really does outnumber the consensual free-adult variety. If there has been such a study, I haven't seen it.

But here's the point I want to make.

When the Texas polygamy compound got raided and arrests were made, nobody was charged with bigamy.

The charges so far have all been related to child abuse. And the case seems to be largely in the hands of Child Protective Services.

So how does the illegality of multiple marriage help the victims of these situations?

To read more, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

The Texas Dildo Massacre, Or, Reason Number 2,767 Why Gay Rights Matter To Everyone

The Federal court decision that inspired this post happened a couple of months ago, when I first wrote it. But the issues it addresses are very much current and pertinent... not to mention a rare bit of good sex news in this crappy decade. So I'm reprinting it anyway. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

As you've probably heard, the Texas law banning the sale of sex toys has been overturned.

This is excellent news, for all the obvious reasons. Most obviously, Texans can now buy and sell sex toys. People can now open sex toy stores in Texas, run fuckerware parties in Texas, sell sex toys to Texans through the mail without fear of entering murky legal waters. Woo-hoo! Go, Texans! (Good articles about it in the Austin-American Statesman, and in Dispatches from the Culture Wars.)

But I want to talk about one of the less obvious reasons why this is astoundingly, excitingly, kick-ass good news.

(Please note: I'm not a legal expert, and I'm definitely not an expert on constitutional law. These are simply the opinions of a smart lay person who’s been paying attention to this issue for a long time, informed by the opinions of people who are legal experts.)

The primary reason for the Texas sex toy ruling -- the main precedent cited -- was the 2003 Supreme Court ruling in Lawrence and Garner v. Texas, which overturned sodomy laws and legalized gay sex across the country. Now, Lawrence was important for sexual civil rights for a whole lot of reasons. Most obviously, it meant that nobody in the United States could be considered a criminal simply for having gay sex. And that has huge implications for things like custody rights, housing rights, employment rights, etc. Before Lawrence, gay people could be -- and were -- denied all sorts of basic rights... because, technically, they were criminals. Lawrence upended all that, and it was hugely important for that reason alone.

But this latest case -- the Texas sex toy case, Reliable Consultants and PHE v. Texas -- makes it clear that Lawrence has even broader implications... for everyone. Gay, straight, everyone.

The Texas sex toy case makes it clear that the Lawrence v. Texas ruling established a constitutional right to sexual privacy in the United States.

And that, people, is HUGE.

Before the Texas sex toy case, we didn't have that. You might have had it in the particular state you lived in -- we’ve had it in California since 1975, when the consenting adults law got passed -- but United States citizens did not have any constitutionally guaranteed right to sexual privacy until February 12, 2008.

And we have it now. Yes, the Federal courts have now said that you have a constitutional right to use a vibrator or a dildo. But so much more than that: the Federal courts have now said... well, let me quote briefly from the decision.

Just as in Lawrence, the State here wants to use its laws to enforce a public moral code by restricting private intimate conduct. The case is not about public sex. It is not about controlling commerce in sex. It is about controlling what people do in the privacy of their own homes because the State is morally opposed to a certain type of consensual private intimate conduct. This is an insufficient justification for the statute after Lawrence. (Emphasis mine.)

The Lawrence case didn't just say that gay sex couldn't be criminalized. It said that people -- all people -- have the right to engage in any consensual intimate conduct in their home, free from government intrusion. It said that people's sex lives are not their neighbors' business, not society's business, and most emphatically not the government's business. It said that the fact that the State doesn't happen to like a particular kind of sex doesn't mean they have a right to ban it, or indeed to have any say in it at all.

This case says, "Yup. That's what Lawrence meant, all right."

And that has enormous implications. (Assuming it gets upheld, of course; the decision could be appealed to the Supreme Court, and I haven't read anything yet saying whether or not it will be.)

It has implications for sadomasochists. Fetishists. Swingers. Any other sexual minority you can think of. If you're any of those things... you now have a legal right to it, anywhere in the country. And that's pretty darned important for all those custody rights and housing rights and employment rights and whatnot that we were talking about. It may wind up having implications for porn laws; if we our right to sexual privacy means we can have vibrators, it should mean we have a right to dirty movies as well. (It should have implications for the legalization of sex work, too; but alas, the rulings in both Lawrence and this case made a point of saying that the rulings don't apply to prostitution. Mistakenly, in my opinion.)

So here's the lesson for today. Apart from just, "Hooray for sex toys!" and "Hooray for the right to sexual privacy!"

The lesson for today: Gay rights are human rights.

Gay rights are everyone's rights.

And straight people have a personal vested interest in fighting for gay rights.

This is a point that sex advice writer Dan Savage has made on several occasions. He's pointed out that the right-wing homophobes who want to stop things like same-sex marriage are the exact same right-wing sex-phobes who want to stop things like birth control and sex education and abortion. Gay sexual rights are often on the cutting edge of sexual liberation... and they're often the first on the chopping block when right-wingers try to turn back the clock.

So I want all the straight people reading this to say a big, heartfelt "Thank You" to the people in the gay rights movement who fought so hard for so many years to get the Lawrence verdict. They are the people who, last week, gave you the right to own a dildo or a vibrator in every state in the country.

And I want you to promise to treat the fight for gay rights as if it were the fight for your own.

Because it is.

BTW, does anyone know the current status of this case? Is it being appealed, or is it standing? I Googled it, but couldn't find anything except on the original decision.

*****

Addendum: Important correction to the legal effects of this ruling in Jon Berger's comment below.

The Joy Of Theoretical Non-Monogamy: The Blowfish Blog

Family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life, please note: This piece, and the piece it links to, talks about my personal sex life a certain amount. If you don't want to read that stuff, please don't read this piece.

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about why non-monogamy is important to me and why I think it can be an asset in a relationship... even when, in any practical sense, it's largely theoretical. It's called The Joy Of Theoretical Non-Monogamy, and here's the teaser:

This is probably the single most important lesson that non-monogamy taught me. When you're monogamous, every single person you're even moderately attracted to seems like Shangri-La, a lost city of infinite erotic promise, with genitals made of divine light and chocolate ice cream that would transform your life if only you could have a taste. (It did for me, anyway.) The allure of the forbidden, and all that.

But when you're non-monogamous, you remember that you don't actually want to go to bed with every attractive person who crosses your path. Some attractive people become much less attractive on closer acquaintance. Some attractive people are crazy; some attractive people are dull; some attractive people have appalling political opinions. And some attractive people you just don't connect with. Especially if you have a busy, reasonably fulfilling life, the reality of non-monogamy may well turn out to be that most people who you're passingly attracted to are not, in fact, people you actually want to fuck. They may be perfectly lovely, but they’re just not worth the effort.

To find out more about how non-monogamy can actually make Other People less of an issue in a relationships instead of more, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Two Erogenous Zones Walk Into A Bar: Sex And Humor

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my sex life: This piece talks about my sex life a little. Not in a lot of detail, but some. If you don't want to read about that stuff, use your own judgment on this one. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

I want to like it.

Really, I do.

But mostly, I just don't.

I'm talking about humor in porn. And to some extent, I'm talking about humor in sex.

If you're one of these people who complains that porn is too serious and you wish they'd lighten up and have some laughs with it... well, I guess I'm part of the problem. Sorry about that. I've written some laugh lines into some of my porn, but I do it sparingly, and I never do it when a story is heading into the home stretch.

I just don't like it. Not usually. Not as a porn writer, and not as a porn consumer. I find it distracting, I find it un-sexy, and I find it a mood-killer. Or a mood-dampener, anyway.

Part of the problem with funny porn, of course, is that so much of it isn't actually funny. In the same way that commercial porn often winds up with half-assed writing (for books), half-assed lighting and framing (for photos), and half-assed writing and lighting and framing and acting and music and everything else for porn videos, the attempts at humor in all porn media often wind up being pointless, labored, and flat.

But even when humor in porn is done well, I still don't often like it.

It's not just porn, either. It's sex itself. I once had a sex date with someone -- a couple, actually -- who wanted to have sex with Warner Brothers cartoon music in the background. They were definitely of the "people take sex too seriously, we wish they’d lighten up and have some laughs with it" camp. I liked the idea in theory... but in practice, I found the music extremely distracting. I'd be working up to a nice erotic climax, when I’d hear some comic "boing" in the background, and completely lose my momentum. I felt bad -- I felt like I was one of those people they were complaining about who took sex too seriously -- but it absolutely did not work for me.

So here's what I think the problem is:

Laughter is a tension breaker.

And I don't want the tension broken during sex.

Sex is about tension. Obviously sex is about a lot more than that... but tension is one of the main things that makes it work. The slow, gradual, rise-and-fall buildup of tension, the amping up of erotic tension to an almost unbearable level of pleasure, the sudden, explosive release of all that tension in orgasm... that's what it’s about, baby. And I don't want it interrupted with some silly dirty pun or a comic "boing" on the stereo.


I'm not saying I never laugh in bed. Of course I do. And laughter can have some real benefits to sex. It can be a bonding experience, making sex feel like a naughty conspiracy that the two (or more) of you are in on together. And it can release the bad kind of tension as well as the good, smoothing over awkward moments and making you feel good about yourselves and each other.

I'm saying that when I do laugh in bed, it tends to break me out of my erotic mood. And it can take a little doing to get back into it and find my place again. That's true for sex with another person, and it's true when I'm enjoying porn by myself. Humor and laughter can definitely add to a sexual scenario... but for me at least, it does so at the cost of sexual arousal. It releases the tension too early, and in a non-erotic way. I can be turned on, and I can laugh, but I can almost never do both at the same time.

It can still be worth it. It can definitely be worth it when I’m with someone else and we’re getting the good bonding stuff you get from a good laugh. And porn can sometimes use humor in a similar way: early on in the story, to establish a mood and get you to bond with the characters. But once things really get going, I want my erotic tension to be broken in a shattering orgasm -- not in a fit of the giggles.

Jealousy, Friendship, And Bisexual Chopped Liver: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about a trope I see sometimes in monogamous relationships: namely, jealousy over your partner's friends, when those friends might, in theory, based solely on their sexual orientation, be sexually attracted to your partner. (Jealousy of straight men or lesbians, for instance, when your partner is a woman.)

The piece is titled Jealousy, Friendship, And Bisexual Chopped Liver. And while I do talk about jealousy and possessiveness in relationships, it's not the main thrust. The main thrust is on this topic:

So what are we bisexuals — chopped liver?

According to this theory, bisexuals could never, ever have any friends at all. We couldn’t be friends with gay men, straight men, straight women, lesbians. And we definitely couldn’t be friends with other bisexuals. According to this theory, the fact that we’re attracted to both women and men makes us ineligible to be friends with anybody, of any gender, ever.

No, that’s not quite true. We could be friends with non-monogamous people, and with single people. But once those single get into monogamous relationships — blammo. That’s the end of that friendship.

I’m not just writing this to point up the stupidity and irrationality of this particular form of jealousy. I’m writing it to point up the stupidity and irrationality of bisexual invisibility.

To find out more of my musings on jealousy, possessiveness, and the contorted logic created by bisexual invisibility, read the rest of the piece, Enjoy!

Buying Obedience, Part 4

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This one you almost certainly want to stay away from. It discusses my sex life in some detail... and discusses aspects of my sex life that you probably don't want to know about. Really. Here's a post that you might want to read instead, about how my early science education shaped my adult life, and why I'm grateful for it.

This is Part Four of a four-part post. In Part One, "Thinking About It," I talked about why I decided to hire a professional submissive in the first place; Part Two, "Planning It," told what it was like to actually shop for, and make plans with, a pro submissive. Part Three, "Doing It," told what happened once I actually walked through the dungeon door. And in today's conclusion, I explain what I think it all means. This piece was originally published in Other Magazine, and was reprinted in Best Sex Writing 2008.

Buying Obedience:
My Visit to a Pro Submissive

Part Four: Analyzing It to Death Afterward

So here's the big, meaningful conclusion I've come to:

Boy, sex work is weird.

I don't mean that it's bad. I don't mean that it's sinful or exploitative or un-feminist, or any of that. But it's deeply, deeply weird. And being a customer felt much weirder than I'd ever felt as a provider. It was radically different from unpaid sex, much more so than I'd expected. It was as different from unpaid sex as SM is from vanilla sex, as different as making love with a beloved partner is from fucking a stranger.

Why was it so different? It wasn't the "playing with a stranger" part so much: I've done that before, at sex parties and such. And it wasn't the "planning and scheduling sex in advance" part, either: I've done that before as well, with both long-term lovers and casual personal-ad hookups. But the combination of the two -- making a definite, fairly detailed plan to have sex with someone that I'd never even met before -- was deeply surreal. Even with strangers at sex parties, I'd known them for at least 30 seconds, had a chance to see if there was immediate physical chemistry, before deciding to boink them. This blend of careful calculation and blind leaping-into-the-abyss adventure was very peculiar indeed.

And of course, I was $300 poorer at the end of it, which isn't an insignificant difference. The money made me feel entitled to ask for what I wanted and (within reason) to get it. But it also made me feel pressured, like I had to cram as much pleasure as I could into the session to make it worth what I'd spent. And inevitably, it made me compare the experience to other luxuries, trying to judge whether that one hour had really been as good as thirty expensive cocktails, or ten pairs of Merino wool tights, or three fancy dinners out with my lover.

But the biggest difference between playing for money and playing for free turned out to be the clock. Rachel had informed me ahead of time that she rented the dungeon by the hour and we had to be out by 8pm sharp. Even if she hadn't, I didn't have the money to extend the session past the hour we'd scheduled. So I was constantly keeping an eye on the clock: winding up the spanking so we could get to the cunt torture, deciding not to use the flogger because we wouldn't have time to do it right. Now, I've certainly had quickies with a casual eye on the clock, have begun play sessions that we had to either cut short or miss our dinner reservations. But I'd never before played with anyone who was going to kick me out after exactly one hour, no matter what was going on or how much fun either of us was having. And this, I think, more than anything else about the session, made it nearly impossible for me to relax and just experience the moment.

I want to say something, though, and I want to say it very clearly: None of this weirdness or anxiety had anything to do with Rachel. Rachel was great. She knew her stuff, and she responded beautifully to my orders, and she was lovely to look at and luscious to fondle and spank. Any stress or distance I felt came from my own brainwaves and neuroses. Rachel did not make this a weird experience -- I did.

Would I do it again? Well, if money were no object... but that's ridiculous. Of course money is an object. Money is the object, the whole point of the exercise, the thing that makes paying for it different from just surfing the personals for no-strings sex. So let me re-phrase that. If I could afford it -- if I weren't working a low-paying hippie-anarchist day job, if I hadn't recently paid for a big wedding and bought a house (and before you ask: yes, my wife knows about my adventure, and she's fine with it) -- is this a luxury I'd save up for again?

I'm not sure. I had a good time, no question. I walked home after the session with that loose, rumpled, hormone-addled strut people get when they've just gotten it good, as high and relaxed on my way back as I'd been freaked-out and high-strung on my way there. But it was a very weird good time, an awkward good time during much of it, and in many ways a deeply unsettling good time. And while I definitely got off, it didn't shake me to my core. The cool and distant persona I'd been cultivating was as much removed from herself as she was from Rachel, and her core was pretty damn unshakable. Besides, it's hard for my core to be shaken by someone I barely know.

But I have no idea how much of this unease and disconnect was simply unfamiliarity and first-time nerves. It's entirely possible that if I did it again, with experience under my belt and without feeling all anxious and ignorant and self-consciously transgressive, I'd have an even better time.

And in fact, I find that I'm still fantasizing about seeing a pro submissive. Not so much about the session I actually had; instead, I'm fantasizing about what I might do next time. I'm imagining what it'd be like if I let go of my fixation on being selfish and asked for more feedback; and I'm imagining what it'd be like if I could quit worrying about her responses and really let myself be selfish and cruel. And I'm wondering how the reality would stack up to the fantasy the second time around. So if money weren't such an obstacle, then yes. I'd probably do it again.

If only to find out what it was like.

Buying Obedience, Part 3

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This one you almost certainly want to stay away from. It discusses my sex life in some detail... and discusses aspects of my sex life that you probably don't want to know about. Really. Here's a recent post that you might want to read instead, about why I think the "nature, nurture, or both" debate about sexual orientation needs to be based, not on what answer we would like to be true, but on what answer is best supported by evidence.

This is Part Three of a four-part post. In Part One, "Thinking About It," I talked about why I decided to hire a professional submissive in the first place; Part Two, "Planning It," told what it was like to actually shop for, and make plans with, a pro submissive. Today's installment finally gets to the meat of the matter: what happened when I actually showed up for my appointment. This piece was originally published in Other Magazine, and was reprinted in Best Sex Writing 2008.

Buying Obedience:
My Visit to a Pro Submissive

Part Three: Doing It

Did I mention the fretfulness, the anxiety, the blank terror? All of it focused into a laser-beam of panic when I rang the doorbell and walked through the dungeon door. I'm tempted to say that it felt like crossing a line, like stepping across a border into unknown and forbidden territory that I could never return from unchanged. All of which is true, it did feel like that, except I was also aware of what a dorky, over-dramatic metaphor that was. Mostly, I just had no fucking idea what to do next.

But Rachel, of course, was a professional. She knew how to put nervous horny people at ease, and she knew what to do next. She graciously took my money, and she sat me on the sofa and chatted a bit about what we'd be doing, and she walked me around the dungeon showing me her toys... and while part of me was watching the clock tick and wondering, "Am I paying for this?", a much larger part was relieved to have the chance to get my bearings. I was getting a sense of the physical space, which was helping me relax and settle in... and which was giving me ideas.

And of course, now I knew what Rachel looked like. Yes, I'd seen photos on her Website, but we all know about photos. They can lie in so many ways, not least of which is the lies you tell yourself when you look at them. But while Rachel didn't look exactly the way I'd imagined -- she was taller, and dressed more conventionally -- I certainly wasn't disappointed. If anything, her photos didn't do her justice. So by the time the tour was over, I was... not relaxed exactly, but no longer paralyzed. And while I was still deeply weirded out, I was also getting a little turned on.

Continued after the jump. Please note: This post includes explicit descriptions of sexual acts. If you're under 18, please do not continue reading.

Buying Obedience, Part 2

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This one you almost certainly want to stay away from. It discusses my sex life in some detail... and discusses aspects of my sex life that you probably don't want to know about. Really. Here's a piece I wrote recently that you might want to read instead, about why it bugs me when people say "everything happens for a reason."

This is Part Two of a four-part post. In Part One, "Thinking About It," I talked about why I decided to hire a professional submissive in the first place; today's installment tells what it was like to actually shop for, and make plans with, a pro submissive. This piece was originally published in Other Magazine, and was reprinted in Best Sex Writing 2008.

Buying Obedience:
My Visit to a Pro Submissive

Part Two: Planning It

I'll tell you this right off the bat. As soon as I started even thinking about hiring a pro, I immediately got a lot more sympathy for sex customers. I even got more sympathy for some of those customers' more common failings. See, as soon as I started imagining hiring a submissive, I of course started having sex fantasies about it -- and one of my first fantasies was about the woman dropping her professional limits for me and making an exception to the "no sex" rule that most pro submissives have.

Now, customers who push their sex workers to do off-limits stuff is one of the big pet peeves in the industry, an absolute top-notch way for a customer to be an asshole. But now I'm not sure it is about being an asshole. I don't think it's about being a selfish jerk who wants what they want and doesn't care how the other person feels. Or it least, it's not always about that.

I think it's about wanting to be special. It's about wanting to not be just another customer, wanting to be the one the pro likes so much that she (or he) will make an exception and invite you across that line. For me, the pro sub in my fantasies always made the exception because I was a woman -- either the "no-sex" rule didn't apply to girls, or she was so excited about playing with a woman that she let the rule slide. As if lesbian erotic sisterhood was so powerful that it rendered professional limits obsolete. I knew rationally that this was absurd, but it was a very difficult fantasy to let go of. And it was hard not to feel disappointed about it, even before I'd booked the session. I still think pushing sex workers to do off-limits stuff is a top-notch way to be an asshole -- but I now have more sympathy for the impulse.

And once I stopped just thinking about it and started actually shopping around for a pro submissive, my sympathy for customers went sky-high. It was a weirdly nerve-wracking experience, a blend of comparison shopping and answering a personal ad. I wanted to come across as respectful and experienced and interesting and fun: if for no other reason, I knew that sex workers do sometimes turn down customers, and I wanted to look like a good prospect. At the same time, I wanted to be sure I was getting the best person available for my desires, or at least some assurance that I'd actually be getting what I was paying for. To put it bluntly, I wanted to get my money's worth. And while as a former sex worker I'm happy to advise customers, "If you don't hit it off with a sex worker, write it off to bad luck and try again with someone else," that advice was tough to accept when it was my own hard-earned, not-very-plentiful cash on the line.

Continued after the jump. Please note: This post includes explicit descriptions of sexual acts. If you're under 18, please do not continue reading.

Buying Obedience

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This one you definitely want to stay away from. Seriously. It discusses my sex life in a whole lot of detail... and discusses aspects of my sex life that you almost certainly don't want to know about. Here's a funny piece I wrote recently about atheist plumbing that you might want to read instead.

This piece was originally published in Other Magazine, and was reprinted in Best Sex Writing 2008.

Buying Obedience:
My Visit to a Pro Submissive

Part One: Thinking About It

First of all -- no, the book didn't give me the idea. I've thought about hiring a professional submissive for years, long before the book came along. I've thought about it idly, fantasized about it intensely, even read the ads in the back of the adult papers with semi-serious intent. But the book is what gave me the courage, or maybe just the excuse, to go ahead and actually do it.

A quick explanation. See, I edited this book, Paying For It: A Guide by Sex Workers for Their Clients, which is pretty much what it sounds like -- a collection of writing by sex workers, with advice for customers on how to treat sex pros so they like you and give you a better time. I edited the book (and wrote parts of it myself) very much from the point of view of the worker, and while it was written with sympathy and compassion for the customer, it was written entirely in the workers' voices.

But as soon as I started working on the book, I started wondering: What would it be like on the other side?

Part of my interest was professional. How easy would it be, I wondered, to follow the advice in my own book? Would having the guidelines make me feel relaxed and confident about hiring a sex pro? Or would they make me even more anxious about whether I was doing it right?

But mostly, I was just curious. Sexually curious, I mean, not just intellectually curious. What would be different about getting off with someone who was doing it for the money, instead of doing it pro bono? I liked the idea of paying someone so I could have the session be about me me me, so I could be sexually selfish without feeling guilty. That's a big reason I decided to hire a submissive instead of an escort or a dominant -- it fit so beautifully into that fantasy. But would it really be like that? Would I really be able to think of her as my servant girl, there for the sole purpose of doing my bidding and getting me off? Or would I be unable to let go of my reflex of wanting her to like me, wanting her to think I was cool, wanting her to have fun too?

And would the very fact of the money get in the way? Would it make me mistrust my own instincts? Would the money be constantly in my mind, a nagging reminder that she probably wouldn't be there if she didn't have bills to pay? I knew from the writing in "Paying For It" (and from my own experience as a stripper) that sex workers do sometimes like their customers and sometimes even get off with them. But weirdly, knowing this wasn't entirely comforting. It made me want to prove myself, made me want to be one of those special ones... which, of course, made it harder to imagine just selfishly letting myself be catered to. Would I be able to forget about the money? And if not, would I be able to let the money be part of the power dynamic, one of the things that made the encounter unique and hot?

There was only one way to find out.

Tomorrow, Part 2: Planning It.

"As honestly as I could": My Interview with "First City" Magazine

Note to family members and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This one you almost certainly want to stay away from. It discusses my sex life in some detail... and discusses aspects of my sex life that you probably don't want to know about.

I recently did a very interesting interview with a very unexpected outlet: First City Magazine, the city magazine of Delhi, India. They did a long, thoughtful piece about the new Best Sex Writing 2008 anthology, and they included short interviews with several of the book's contributors... including me.

The whole article is worth reading. Alas, it's not currently on the web (they have a nifty blog, but their magazine isn't online yet -- the article is in their April 2008 issue, if you want to order a copy). But they graciously gave me permission to reprint the full text of the interview they did with me. We talked about my piece in BEC 2008 -- Buying Obedience: My Visit to a Pro Submissive -- along with definitions of sex, people's expectations of sex writing, "Singing in the Rain," and more. Enjoy!

First City: Tell us the process of being one of the chosen ones on the anthology. How did it evolve?

Greta: The piece, "Buying Obedience: My Visit to a Pro Submissive," was a piece I wrote for a small, interesting, eclectic magazine here in San Francisco called Other. Actually, I originally wrote it for a different magazine, but it wound up being a lot longer than they were willing to publish -- and one of the nice things about Other is that they publish longer, more in-depth think-pieces as well as short pithy ones. That's increasingly rare in the magazine business.

Anyway, I thought that would be the end of it. I figured it'd run in Other, I'd reprint it on my blog at some point, and that would be that. Then Rachel Kramer Bussel, the editor of Best Sex Writing 2008, asked if she could reprint it in her anthology. I was thrilled. I like this piece a lot -- I think it's some of my better writing -- and it's on a topic that rarely gets talked about. Most writing about sex work is written about the workers; there's not much being written about what it's like to be a sex work customer. I'm glad to see it get a wider audience.

In your piece, you describe a visit to a professional submissive. Can you briefly explain what that involves?

Sure. Many people have heard of professional dominants: women (or sometimes men) who you pay to dominate you, spank you, whip you, order you around, etc. A professional submissive is like that, but the other way around: it's someone you pay so you can dominate them, spank them, order them around, etc. There aren't very many: it's not an area of sex work you go into if you don't enjoy it, and enjoy it a lot.

Like pro dominants, most pro submissives won't have genital sex with their customers: largely to avoid prostitution laws, but partly to keep some boundaries. Typically, a customer of a pro dominant or submissive gets off by masturbating at the end of the session. But different people define "sex" very differently. The pro sub that I hired didn't call what we did "sex," but I sure would.

"Sometimes I think sex is a code word for every dirty, naughty, perverted thought anyone's ever had," is how Rachel puts it in her introduction to the book; how sex becomes like a representative word to use, sort of all-encompassing, even though it can (and does) mean different things to different people. What do you think? (And yes, I have read Are We Having Sex or What? So, is the question redundant then?)

That's an interesting way of putting it. I'm not sure I'd put it in those words, but she has a point. I do think our culture has a tendency to define sex very narrowly... and at the same time, we see it everywhere.

I definitely think this question applies directly to my piece, since the experience I write about -- visiting a professional submissive -- is very much one of those "Are we having sex now or what?" experiences. The pro submissive I visited, Rachel, was very clear that "sex" was off limits: I could dominate her and spank her and such, but I couldn't have sex with her. And yet, even though I completely respected the limits she set, a lot of what we did I would most definitely call "sex." Our personal definitions of what did and didn't count as "sex" were very different. It's one of the things that made it such an odd experience.

I thought the book (title and cover) might attract readers on the lookout for great sex writing, in the sense of this being a pick of the act of sex, described well by writers? Which it's so not, right? What do you think?

I do think people who are purely looking for a naughty thrill may be disappointed by the book. There is sexually arousing, erotic writing in it -- I think my piece is sexually arousing and erotic (a lot of it anyway) -- but that's not the main thrust of the book.

But even the pieces that aren't naughty and exciting are very mind-opening. And that's arousing and erotic in a different way. Having an open mind is key to having a great sex life.

What's the response you've got so far to the book/your piece?

Positive so far. Mostly people are curious and interested. I haven't gotten any angry "How could you oppress that poor woman by giving her money to spank her?" letters so far. Maybe I will, but it hasn't happened yet.

Is there an ideal reader or audience you're expecting?

Not really. Anyone who's interested, I'm happy for them to read it. I would like it to be read by people who think paying for sexual pleasure makes you either a sleazy exploiter or a pathetic loser. But the piece isn't just a pro- sex- work- customer polemic. Anyone who just wants to know what visiting a pro submissive was like is my ideal reader.

I think Buying Obedience gives us perhaps the best post-good-sex description in the book ('loose, rumpled, hormone addled strut people get when they've just gotten it good'), besides making you wonder about paying for sex (and not just how weird/surreal it can be) vis-a-vis "pro bono sex."

Thank you! What a nice thing to say.

Would you say you set out to achieve something for the reader, with the story? Bringing the anxieties you felt out into the open, so readers could identify? Or was it just about the writing of a personal experience for you?

My goal with this piece was just to be as honest about the experience as possible. Like I said before, there's not a lot of writing about sex work from the customer's point of view. So I just wanted to write it as honestly as I could. I didn't want to demonize it, of course -- I do think sex work can be a valid way to have sex, both for the worker and the customer -- but I didn't want to sugar-coat it, either. I just wanted to be as honest with my readers -- and with myself -- as I possibly could, about every aspect of the experience: good, bad, and just plain odd.

Other than that, I tried very hard in this piece to be both personal and analytical. I definitely wanted to describe the physical, emotional, sexual flavor of the experience as vividly as I could... but I didn't want the piece to just be descriptive, either. I'm a very analytical person, and for me trying to understand an experience is a big part of capturing the flavor of it.

Any personal favourites from the book?

I think my favorite is "Sex in Iran." It's such a perfect portrait of how powerful the sexual impulse is. Sex completely defies any attempts to repress it. It makes me both angry about the terrible sexual oppression
that goes on in Iran and elsewhere in the world... and optimistic about the possibility for sexual pleasure despite it, and even for the oppression to someday be overturned.

Finally, just for fun: One song/book/film (all or one) that translates as 'sex' to you?

I don't know about just one book or movie or song. I'm a very sexual person, and so many of them translate as 'sex' to me!

But I'll tell you what's leaping to mind right now: The dance scene between Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse in "Singing in the Rain." The one where she's wearing the green dress and is slinking around like crazy. She's just so brazen, so open about her sexuality, so blatantly seductive... and she's so beautiful and graceful doing it. They're both such beautiful, graceful people, completely sensual and comfortable in their bodies. I've always thought that was one of the hottest sex scenes in the movies... even though there isn't any sex in it!

Excerpts from this interview originally appeared in First City Magazine, New Delhi, India. Reprinted with permission.

The Bank Job, And The Normalizing Of Kink: The Blowfish Blog

Note to family and others who don't want to read about my personal sex life: This piece, and the piece it links to, doesn't go into a lot of detail about my personal sex life, but it mentions it in passing. Use your judgment about whether you want to read it. Thanks.

I have a new piece on the Blowfish Blog. It's a review of the new heist movie, "The Bank Job," and... well, do you remember that Saturday Night Live sketch about the welder's review of "Flashdance"? This is sort of like that.

This is the sadomasochist's review of "The Bank Job."

It's called The Bank Job, And The Normalizing Of Kink, and here's the teaser:

Now, secret sex -- even secret sadomasochistic sex -- being used to drive a movie plot is hardly unusual. It's barely worth even mentioning, much less writing an entire column about. But there’s something about the kink in "The Bank Job" that’s very unusual indeed... so unusual in mainstream movies as to be almost unheard of.

And that's this: The movie’s attitude towards the sadomasochism is entirely casual, and entirely non-judgmental.

To find out more, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Born or Learned? Sexuality, Science, and Party Lines

When I first came out into the gay community, one of the most common party lines going around was, "Gay parents aren't any more likely to have gay kids than straight parents." Some of the big political battles being fought at the time had to do with gay parenting, and the community was trying to reassure/ convince the straight world that it was "safe" for gay people to have and raise kids, that our kids wouldn't be any more likely to be gay than anyone else's. (Of course, many of us personally thought, "So what if our kids turn out gay? There's nothing wrong with being gay, so why does it matter?" But we knew the straight world didn't feel that way. Hence, the line.)

Not too long after that, I started hearing the party line, "Being gay isn't a choice -- we're born that way." Again, this was used in political discussions and debates, as a way of putting anti-gay discrimination in the same civil rights camp as racist or sexist discrimination... and as a way of gaining sympathy. Now, this would seem to be in direct contradiction with the "Gay parents aren't any more likely to have gay kids" line. If people are born gay, doesn't that mean it's genetic, and doesn't that mean gay parents are more likely to have gay kids? But in fact, these two party lines overlapped. I heard them both at the same time for quite a while... and I never heard a good explanation for why they weren't contradictory.

Then I started hearing the strict constructionist line. "Sexual orientation is a social construct," it said. "Our sexuality is formed by our culture. All that 'we're born that way' stuff -- that's biological determinism, rigid, limiting, a denial of the fluid nature of sexuality and sexual identity." (I am embarrassed to admit that I bought and sold this line myself for quite some time, in a pretty hard-line way... solely because I liked the idea.)

And now... well, now it's kind of a mess. Some in the queer community say, "it's genetic," and argue that this is a core foundation of our fight for acceptance. Others fear that the "genetic" argument will lead to eugenics, parents aborting their gay fetuses, the genocide of our community. The constructionist line about rigidity and determinism still gets a fair amount of play. And more and more I'm starting to hear the combination theory: sexual orientation is shaped partly by genetics, partly by environment, and may be shaped differently for different people.

And in all of these debates and party lines, here's what I never heard very much of:

Evidence to support the theory.

Or, to be more precise: Solid evidence to support the theory. Carefully gathered evidence. Evidence that wasn't just anecdotal, that wasn't just personal experience.

The line of the day -- and the debates in our community surrounding it -- always seemed to be based primarily on personal feeling and political expedience. I'd occasionally hear mention of twin studies or gay sheep or something... but that was the exception, not the rule. And the line has shifted around over the years, based not on new evidence, but on shifting political needs, and shifting ways that our community has defined itself.

I am profoundly disturbed by the ease with which many in the queer community are willing to dismiss the emerging science behind this question. Yes, of course, scientists are biased, and the research they do often reflects their biases. But flawed as it is, science is still the best method we have for getting at the truth of this question (and any other question about physical reality). Double-blinding, control groups, randomization of samples, replication of experiments, peer review: all of this has one purpose. The scientific method is deliberately designed to filter out bias and preconception, as much as is humanly possible.

It's far from perfect. No reputable scientist would tell you otherwise. Among other things, it often takes time for this filtering process to happen. And it completely sucks when the filtering process is happening on your back: when you're the one being put in a mental institution, for instance, because scientists haven't yet figured out that homosexuality isn't a mental illness. But when you look at the history of science over time, you see a consistent pattern of culturally biased science eventually being dropped in the face of a preponderance of evidence.

And if you're concerned about bias affecting science, I think it's important to remember that many of the scientists researching this question are themselves gay or gay-positive. We can no longer assume that scientists are "them," malevolent or ignorant straight people examining us like freakish specimens. Many of them are us... and if they're not, they're our allies. Yes, science often reflects current cultural biases... but right now, the current cultural biases are a lot more gay-positive than they used to be. And that's even more true among highly educated groups such as the scientific community.

But more to the point: What other options are being offered? How else do we propose to answer this question? Or any other question about the possible causes of human behavior? If answering it based on science is subject to bias, then isn't answering it based on our own feelings and instincts even more subject to bias? How can we accuse scientists of bias in their attempts to answer this question -- and use that accusation as a reason to dismiss the science -- when our own responses to the question have been so thinly based on evidence, and so heavily based on personal preference and political expedience?

Unless you're going to go with the hard-core deconstructionist argument that there is no reality and all of our perceptions and experiences are 100% socially constructed, then you have to accept that the question, "Is sexual orientation genetically determined, learned, or a combination of both -- and if a combination, how much of each, and how do they work together?"... well, it's a question with an answer. It's not a matter of opinion. And it's exactly the kind of question that science is designed to answer: a question of cause and effect in the physical world.

I'm not a scientist myself. But I've been following this question in the science blogs for a little while now. And as best I can tell, here's the current scientific thinking on this question:

1) Sexual orientation is probably determined by some combination of genetics and environment (with in utero environment being another possible factor). (Here, btw, is a good summary of the current scientific research on this topic, and how it evolved.)

2) We really don't know yet. The research is in the early stages. It's probably a combination of genetics and environment... but we really don't know that for sure, and we don't know which factor is more influential, or how they work together, or whether different people are shaped more by one factor and others by the other. We just don't know.

But I've said it before, and I will say it again: We should not be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer we would like to be true. We should not be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer we find most politically useful. We should be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer is true. We should be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer is best supported by the evidence.

If we don't, then we are no better than the creationists, refusing to accept evolution because it screws up their view of the world. We are no better than the 17th century Catholic Church, refusing to accept that the Earth revolves around the Sun because it contradicted their theology. We are no better than the Bush administration, refusing to recognize clear warnings about Iraq and Katrina and global warming because it got in the way of their ideological happy thoughts. We are no better than the "Biology for Christian Schools" textbook, which states on Page 1 that, ""If [scientific] conclusions contradict the Word of God, the conclusions are wrong, no matter how many scientific facts may appear to back them."

If we expect the straight world to accept the reality of our community, the reality that our lives and relationships and families are as healthy and stable as any other, then we ourselves need to be a committed part of the reality-based community. And we therefore need to accept the reality of the causes of our orientation... whatever that reality turns out to be.

So why don't we try a different angle for a while. Maybe something like this:

"We don't really know what causes sexual orientation. And we don't think it matters. It's probably a combination of genetics and environment, but until more research is done, we don't really know for sure. And we don't think it matters. It's an interesting question, one many people are curious about -- but it doesn't really matter. Homosexuality doesn't harm anybody, and it doesn't harm society, and our relationships are as healthy and stable and valid as anybody else's... and it isn't anybody's business but our own.

"We deserve rights and recognition because we are human beings and citizens: as much as racial minorities, whose skin color is inborn, and as much as religious minorities, whose religion or lack thereof is learned. The 'born versus learned' question is a fascinating one, with many possible implications about human consciousness generally. But it has absolutely no bearing on questions like job discrimination, or adoption of children by same-sex couples, or whether we should be able to marry. We don't yet know the answer to this question... but for any practical, political, social, or moral purposes, it absolutely does not matter."

Fuck Anything That Flies: Bisexuality, Fruit Flies, And The Causes Of Sexual Orientation

This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

I love science.

From the vaunted Pharyngula science blog comes this hilarious and enlightening news of mutant bisexual fruit flies.

(As they say on Mythbusters: "Warning: Science Content." Lots of it, if you read the whole linked story.)

The gist, in case you don’t feel like reading all the darned neuroscience: In a particular species of fly, there is an occasional genetic variation -- I'm trying not to call it a mutation, that's such a judgmental word -- that causes them to behave bisexually. It causes some females to try to initiate sex with other females; it causes some males to wait for other males to initiate courtship; and it causes some males to attempt, equally, to initiate courtship with both females and males.

They will, to be blunt, fuck anything that flies.

And researchers haven't just identified the existence of the mutation -- excuse me, the variation. They haven't just identified the gene that causes it, even. They've identified the specific neurological mechanism.

(Hence the science content.)

Now, PZ Myers, Pharyngula blogger of song and story, warns that we shouldn't jump to conclusions about what this might mean for human sexuality. And I think he's right to do so. Human beings are rather more complex than fruit flies. And our sexuality is, to put it mildly, a lot more complex. Fruit flies don't, for instance, get hot for spanking, for latex, for women in seamed stockings, for men in seamed stockings, for bits and saddles, for stuffed animals, for cartoon characters, for curly-haired brunettes who look like Bette Davis.

So the fact that sexual orientation is genetically determined in fruit flies doesn't prove, even a little bit, that it's genetically determined in humans.

But it does tell us something about humans, and human sexuality.

It doesn't tell us that our sexual orientation is genetically determined, or even genetically influenced.

But it tells us that it might be.

It tells us that it's not ridiculous to consider the possibility.

It tells us that, at least in some animals, a tendency towards heterosexuality or bisexuality -- and arguably homosexuality, if you think about those male flies waiting coyly for the other male flies to make the first move -- is genetically determined. Entirely, as far as anyone can tell. And therefore, it tells us that it's not out of the question to think that it might be genetically determined -- at least partially -- in other animals as well.

Including humans.

And this is an important message: not just for the homophobic right wing, but for the queer-theory crowd as well.

There are queer theorists and activists who would be delighted to learn that sexual orientation is genetically determined at birth. For no other reason, they think it makes the civil rights battle easier to fight if they can play the "We were born this way" card. There are queer theorists and activists who think, not only that we might be born queer, but that we definitely are, and that the case is closed.

And there are queer theorists and activists who would be appalled to learn that orientation is determined by genetics. Even partially determined by genetics. Even a little bit determined by genetics. There are queer theorists and activists who actively resist this idea, who see it as dangerous and oppressive. There are queer theorists and activists who not only disagree with this theory, but who think that we should not even be considering it.

But here's the thing.

We shouldn't be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer we would like to be true.

We should be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer is true. We should be thinking about this question on the basis of which answer is supported by the evidence.

The question, "Is (X) behavior learned, genetically determined, or a combination of both -- and if a combination, how much of each, and how do they work together?"... this is, at least in theory, a question that can be answered. When it comes to human sexuality, it's probably beyond our current grasp... but that doesn't mean it always will be. It's probably going to wind up having an unbelievably complicated answer, but it's not the kind of question that inherently can't be answered with evidence and the scientific method. It's actually exactly the kind of question that the scientific method was designed to answer.

In fact, we're already beginning to gather some non-trivial data on this subject. And while the science is still in its infancy, or at least in its childhood, the current evidence seems to be leaning in the direction of "some combination of both." When it comes to human sexual orientation, genetics, at the very least, probably plays a significant role.


My inner twenty-something queer-theory constructionist is cringing at this. When I came out and started becoming active in the queer community, constructionism ("it's learned") was all the rage, and essentialism ("it's inborn") was seen as rigid and confining. It's been hard for me to accept the idea that sexual orientation may not, in fact, be entirely a product of a patriarchal society.

But my inner twenty-something queer-theory constructionist needs to get over it. The question of whether sexual orientation is born, learned, or both -- and if both, how and how much -- is not a question of opinion. It is not a question of politics or philosophy. And while there will almost certainly be ethical implications in the answer, it's not a question that should be answered based on which answer we think is morally right or wrong.

It's not a matter of opinion. It's a matter of reality. And I think that's how we should be looking at it.

Because no good -- politically, ethically, philosophically, or any other way -- has ever come from the denial of reality.

Come See Me Read! Perverts Put Out, Sat. April 19

If you're going to be in the San Francisco area this Saturday, come see me read! I'll be reading at the vaunted and notorious Perverts Put Out series, Saturday, April 19, at the Center for Sex and Culture. Other sex writers reading that evening will include Jim Provenzano, Kirk Read, Steven Schwartz, horehound stillpoint, Fran Varian, and emcees Carol Queen and Simon Sheppard. In celebration of tax season, this will the the very special FTIRS edition of Perverts Put Out.

The Center for Sex and Culture is at 1519 Mission Street, near Van Ness, in San Francisco. It's very close to the Van Ness MUNI stop and to many Market Street buses, and not that far from the Civic Center BART stop. Perverts Put Out starts at 7:30, and admission is $10-15 on a sliding scale. Hope to see you there!

Lesbian Sex With Men

Please note: This piece discusses my personal sex life, and my personal sexual history, in a certain amount of detail. Family members and others who don't want to read about that stuff, please don't. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

This is about the first time I had sex with a guy, after I'd finally started having sex with women.

And it's about how having sex with women radically changed the way I have sex. With everybody. Men, women, everybody.

Here's what happened. I was making out with this friend of mine. Male. And this was clearly not the "just fooling around" variety of making out. This was the "lead-up to having sex" variety. We'd actually decamped from another friend's living room, where things had gotten started, and gone back to his place to keep things going. This was "making out, otherwise known as foreplay."

So we were making out on his sofa, getting increasingly hot and heavy... when for no apparent reason, his momentum slowed down. Like, a lot. Trying to figure out what the heck was happening, I asked if he wanted to get a condom and go into the bedroom... and he said, with obvious embarrassment, that he'd already come, while we were making out.

(I think it had been a while since he'd had sex.)

And here's where the "having had sex with women" part comes in.

Before I'd started having sex with women, my reaction to a guy's premature ejaculation had been pretty traditional: disappointment, frustration, embarrassment on his behalf, attempts to soothe his ego, feeling like I'd done something wrong.

But this time, my reaction was to say, casually and matter-of-factly, "Oh. Well, is that any reason to stop?"

I wasn't trying to make a statement or anything. I honestly didn't even think about it. I certainly wasn't thinking of it in terms of, "this is the great lesson I have learned from having sex with women." It was just an automatic, instinctive reaction.

But it was an automatic, instinctive reaction that was the complete opposite of the one I would have had a year or two before. It was an automatic, instinctive reaction that had been shaped by the sex I'd been having with women -- sex in which one person's orgasm didn't stop the whole train, but was simply one of many sights on a long and eventful excursion.

And here's the thing I found especially interesting:

When I said it, he was relieved.

He wasn't angry, or annoyed, or anything even remotely approaching angry or annoyed