Surprising Sex Issue That Shouldn't Exist


I don't know if I am naive, but I am a little surprised that in 2012 there are still guilt-related sex issues roaming around. We've had a Sexual Revolution, the PlayBoy empire, the birth of, the Jersey Shore and Fifty Shades of Grey ... yet some women still carry guilt. And they don't talk about it: they just accept that maybe they can't/won't have orgasms. Oh, no.

Do your job and make women more sexually expressive.

And stop saying "unman me."

Let me explain: I'm not saying people should constantly talk about sex -- that would devalue it. I'm just surprised that some people still want to demonize and make others feel ashamed of it.

I have a friend (ok, I know people say this when they are really talking about themselves, but this is really about a friend) whom I will call Olive. Olive, by all measures, is an intelligent, liberated, beautiful, educated, fun-loving girl whom I have known and loved for many years: She's great. 


Credit Image: mjgelinus on Flickr

We were talking the other day about celebrity porn videos and how the idea that these videos are "accidentally" leaked so easily must be a lie to get publicity. If someone had a video of me doing that, you know damn well I'd have it in a safe somewhere.

So, as the conversation progressed, I said something about One Night in Paris and that if everything else fails maybe Paris Hilton could be a porn fluffer. Olive fell silent.

"You mean doing that with your mouth?" She squeaked.

I was taken aback. I expected laughter, not a question that might be asked by a preteen. This was the same girl who carried lube in her purse in college -- just in case.

"Yes," I said. I felt embarrassed to describe the job requirements of a fluffer since I realized we were not on the same page.

"She services the male porn actor in between takes so he can keep his erection. With her mouth." I felt the need to clarify, but cringed as I said it out loud into the phone.

"Oh. I don't do that."

Wait, what? Suddenly I wanted to ask all sorts of questions: why, what, have you ever, is this a new thing, are you in a cult that forbids it?

"Oh, ok. Cool." And then I fell silent. For a few moments long enough to make it an awkward silence.

"Wait. I've known you for a long time. Are you telling me you don't give blowjobs?" I blurted out.

Olive sighed. "I don't do that. It seems unnatural. Dirty even. I can't do it."

"Well," I chose my words carefully as not wanting to upset her, "Do you like when they do that to you?" It was at this point I realized this was the most in-depth conversion Olive and I had ever had about oral sex. Perhaps she had steered clear of this topic our entire friendship.

"I don't do that. I can't get myself to enjoy it. It just feels ... awkward. Doesn't work for me."

I wanted to shout: It's not wrong! It's great! I went to catholic school, too, but most of the stuff they told us about premarital sex is archaic and bullshit. You will not be struck by lightening. Give it a chance!

Instead, all I got out was: "It's ok to enjoy sex. Whatever kind. It doesn't make you wrong."

Olive paused again. "What does it feel like?"

"Oral sex? Giving it or receiving?" I twisted my hair around my finger. I was a little uncomfortable playing the role of instructor as I never thought Olive rejected the idea of oral sex before.

"No. An Orgasm."

I did not expect that.

For a moment I didn't answer. I made a confused face. Then, at realizing Olive couldn't see my face, I realized I had to answer. Not bombard her with more questions.

"Mostly like a release. On a big scale. Imagine feeling very tense and then being able to suddenly let go of all that tension, specifically in your groin area. And the feeling of easing spreads throughout your body, like you're un-tensing other muscles. You feel happy, calm and energized at the same time. It's great."

"Shit," Olive said.

We spent the next hour talking about her lack of sexual conquests, nights that didn't work out as intended, bad ex-boyfriends and the fact that she never tried self-pleasuring herself because throughout adolescence, college apartment-sharing days and moving back home after being unable to find a job, she had felt someone was always around, ready to bust her at any moment so she couldn't relax. And her embarrassment was greater than her desire to try. Damn you recession, the depths of your reach are immense.

Now, I felt the need to step in: "This is something you learn to do, not expect to surprisingly happen. Everyone is different, so thinking the next person you sleep with will be able to guess exactly what you like will not happen. You need to tell him, or at least encourage when he's in the right direction. Think of yourself as a cheerleader, not a coach."

Olive was silent. But I knew she was listening. Maybe she was impressed I made a sports analogy.

"I think you need to figure out what you like on your own, first. Do not get paranoid. Lock your bedroom door, put some furniture in front of it, whatever. I think it will help ... do you understand the general idea of it?"

Olive snorted, "Yes, I think I know how to do that. I just get nervous about my fucking family running around without boundaries."

"I laughed. "Ok, maybe you should get yourself some help ... of the battery operated variety?"

Olive laughed, "If you can't come right out and say it, how are you going to help me?" (the range of my word prudeness is vast, and most of my friends know and make fun of me for it. Bastards)

"A vibrator. Go buy one. You don't even have to do it in person. Go to and order one, to come to your house, in discrete packaging, and then figure it out. Some woman can be very picky. Try different positions, fantasize, don't give up because it's taking awhile. And don't put it on the highest speed because you think that will work the fastest -- you will vibrate your clit off."

Olive didn't respond but I heard the distinct tapping of fingers on a keyboard ...

"I'm not going to push you on the oral sex part. I do think you should give it a try and maybe your apprehension has more to do with the last man you slept with rather than the act itself. It's not meant to be a dominating act or something dirty or demeaning. Be open-minded, because it's something that will benefit you."


"Promise you'll try this?" I asked.

"Yes. I don't want to wake up 30 years old and realize I've never had an orgasm."

"Good. You'll be happy you tried. Call me if you have questions." I said. After a few more minutes of small talk and goodbyes, we hung up for the night.

That conversation happened over three weeks ago. Since Olive is single, I wasn't going to follow up with her about the oral sex at all, but I was of course curious about her progress on the personal front. As I was debating whether to text her or not, I received an incoming message.

" :) Yippie. Luv u"

That was enough of an answer for me. Kudos, Olive. Welcome to the big leagues (I'm on a sports roll).

Readers... anyone else know someone like this? This conversation seriously through me for a loop -- I didn't know sex-guilt or awkwardness was so pronounced in today's oversexed culture. Who's got a story to tell?

Invest in Batteries,

Lady J

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