A monologue by Laura Lines.
Originally, I wanted to talk about vibrators, and how they’ve impacted my life in a positive way,as true as that is, and as much as I’d like to go on about my pretty little toys, I’ve given it some thought,and got to thinking that there’s something more important I wish to talk about. Sure, masturbationmight get touched upon (And I SO intended the pun, I’m not gonna lie.) but there’s a few things thatneed to be said.
You see, I’ve known in my mind about the myths, urban legends, lies, deceptions, and fuckingstupidity some people believe about sex. I know that I don’t have to have sex with a guy just because heclaims his cock will explode. Hello! NEWSFLASH! It’s not going to explode. Use your hand. I’ve got aheadache.
Seriously! The drivel that comes out of some people’s mouths? I’m pretty sure that they believeit because somebody else told them, it’s what they grew up with, and they don’t bother to do theresearch for themselves!
During my teen years, I feel like I had a pretty comprehensive sex education. Learningthat “making love” doesn’t require doing it, stimulating one’s own genitals is perfectly acceptable, andthat there are at least a hundred ways to say “no” to sex were just a few things that stuck with me. Andyet, there are people who would argue that I’m wrong in believing things like that.
My ex-husband’s mother was a prime example of this. Before the wedding, she was talking tome about birth control, and I told her that we didn’t have to have sex after we were married. Herresponse? “You do too!” She went on to say that it was my job to please my husband blah blah blah. Ok,sex can be fun, but so can air hockey, roller-skating, watching movies, or climbing trees. This womanalso seemed to think masturbation was immoral. We never talked about it in depth, but I do rememberher opinion on the subject. Oh, and according to her, after marriage, my body belonged to my husband,and his to me. Whisky! Tango! Foxtrot! A marriage license is not an all-access pass to anybody’s body!And if there isn’t mutual consent, then it’s rape, and rape is a lot of things, but sexy isn’t one of them.
Later, I dated a guy who only wanted to fool around—nothing else. Never really listened to me,or my beliefs. Oh no. Let’s pressure me to fool around and then afterwards say “Now, wasn’t that nicerthan air hockey?” Um, no, actually, it wasn’t. And by the way? You’re a horrible kisser. K thanks.
This same guy pulled the “my dick is so hard I can’t get up, so you’ll have to fuck me” trick.Seriously? Did you break your hand, or something? Keep it down. I’m trying to sleep. It’s like 4 AM.
And here’s the best story of all! One guy I dated—during a trip we took together—bought
douche and slipped it in my suitcase. DOUCHE!?! Are you fucking kidding me!?! Do you even know whatthat does to a woman’s reproductive system? Try pelvic inflammatory disease. I’d never put that shit inmy vagina. It gets as clean as it needs to be in the shower. Don’t you dare tell me how to care for mygenitals. It’s my vagina, ya hear? I decide how to clean it, how to pleasure it, and who touches it. Don’t try to preach to me about the urban myths and lies out there. Don’t even deliver it to me.