Saturday, April 24, 2010

A Hot-Button Issue

Yesterday, I was reading Cosmo's online blog, "77 Positions in 77 Days," I came across something disconcerting. It was not, as one might think, the Lusty Leg Lift. (I mean, ok, I can see where that could be disconcerting-- I am a contortionist, and even I know that it's not a good idea to try stretching legs up that high and balancing on one leg during sex. Something is bound to get broken, and if it's only your roommate's perfume bottle as you crash to the ground, consider yourself lucky.)

It was the fact that their blogger referred to her clitoris as her "button."

Excuse me. We're all grown up here. (At least you better be if you're reading this.) That is not your "button" or your "hot spot" or any other one of thousands of cute pet names you can give it. That is your clit. And I suggest you refer to it as such because it's pretty damn important. And if you aren't taking it seriously, chances are, other people aren't, either.

It never fails to fascinate me how people with an XY chromosomal make-up are so baffled by the clit. There seems to be a lot of movement going on down there, and a lot of missing the mark. Hello. It is that small nub of concentrated nerves going directionally toward our belly-button. It's literally at the top of the whole contraption. If I can feel it, why is it so difficult for you? I just don't get it. It would be like a woman misplacing a man's balls. It's. Right. There. However, every argument must have two sides, and one of my exes stands as Exhibit A: The Mutant. He understood my mechanics even better than I did. I think for the month I was with him, my toes were never unclenched. Talk about major foot-cramps. (Do not laugh. That's actually something I suffer from. "Toe-curlers" are not urban legends, and I can get back-up on the fact that there have been a few moments during sex when I've had to cry out "Stop! Stop! Owww!" and not in a good way. Orgasms can hurt too, you know. But it's generally worth it. Actually-- it's always worth it.)

A guy I slept with once (key word being "once") looked at me while I was on top and said, "Trying moving more up-and-down." I stopped and stared at him, shocked. Well, I'm sorry, but I have a clitoris to think about. You would not tell your pilot how to fly, just like you should not tell the other person you're having sex with to get out of their moment and into yours. Sex is, after all, a joint effort. Yes, I want to make sure you're having fun and satisfied, but I'd hope you also want me to be having the best time possible. Which means, when someone is having their moment-- DON'T MICRO-MANAGE!

If I am on top, chances are, I am being extremely selfish, just as chances are, when you are on top, you are being extremely selfish, as there is just about nothing I can do to control your speed or angle of penetration. When I am on top, I am more focused on what's going on for me below the non-existent belt than what's going on for you. So I suggest you men get a little more worried about helping yourself. Because in GOT, I am not being accommodating-- I am getting off. Maybe, who is on top is not just dominating, but also, dominating the pleasure spectrum. So, here is what I suggest: Take turns. Be generous. And please-- unless it's something that will be mutually beneficial, don't tell each other how to run the show.

There are some people out there who are instruction-givers. Frankly, I don't give instruction well. And I'm more of a go-with-the-flow person. Half of my favorite things I wouldn't have discovered if I hadn't just let the person I was with do their thing-- I have Mutant Hands Man to thank for showing me the best way to navigate below the belt. I just like to get lost in sex, not feel like it's a campaign for the hostile territory of our bodies.

So this is what I suggest if you really want to get serious about your clit: Take your man literally by the hand, and give him a tutorial. This is not the time to be shy or reserved. Be a show-er, and and not a tell-er. Ok, so, you may have to say, "To the left,"or "To the right," or "Faster," but the point is that you shouldn't be the speaking GPS unit for your vagina. A hands-on guide will be able to more aptly explain where and what and how things work than you could ever do by voice without starting to sound like Sue Johanson. And I'm sure, it will be a mutually beneficial lesson for both of you. Now that's some schooling you can really get into.



  1. Mutant Hands Man? You owe me a story before Italian this week, missy!