Tuesday, April 1, 2008

baby, when the lights go out, every single word cannot express

Well, hi! It’s April first, day one of an entire month of sex-blogging, and I could not be more jazzed about it. Admittedly, I’m not quite sure how I’m going to go about this – while some of you know me in real life, I’m a stranger to the rest of you, as of yet. So consider this a post to remedy that!

For those of you who know me in real life: my apologies if this ever gets crazy-awkward, which is a definite possibility. But then, if I know you in person, chances are high that we’ve had at least one lengthy discussion involving watersports, bloodplay, or crime-scene sex, so it’s doubtful that you’ll find anything here too shocking.

For those who’ve found me some other way: hello, and welcome! I’ve never been great with the introductions, and there’s no real protocol for this, so let’s wing it, shall we? My name’s Jen; I’m a 21-year old lit major and I talk a lot about sex, but find myself obliquely referring to it in my writing, all hyper-detailed descriptions of a girl’s fingers and allusions to crazy nights while skimping on specifics. Looks like all that’s about to change, though, and as my swim team coach told me when I was eight, it’s always better to jump right in.

So, some basics: I am a dyke, and while I spend most of my time fervently denying accusations that I’m a femme, I am addicted to Lip Venom and have soccer-mom tendencies. That said, my fail-proof plans to cheer myself up inevitably involve binding my breasts, putting on clothes lifted from my brother’s closet, and breaking it down to boy band tunes from the mid-to-late nineties. My ideal date would involve some combination of the following: sitting on the same side of a booth at a restaurant that serves chicken fingers and mixed drinks, meeting memorable strangers we’ll spend the rest of the evening imitating, night-driving with a perfectly-chosen soundtrack, fisting, and at least three embarrassing admissions made due to sleepiness, a post-orgasmic urge to confess, or intoxication. I am quickly realizing that there is no casual way to work fisting into a list, even on a sex blog. I have this unspoken test where I won’t go to bed with anyone who can’t unbuckle my belt one-handed and without looking. I only regret sleeping with one person, but I slept with that person at least seventy-eight times and regret all of them. I recently took a Cosmo quiz while I waited for a haircut, and it rated me a Five Star Sexmate. My favorite porn star is Billy Brandt, although I did meet Militia of the new American Gladiators, whom I recognized from a jerk-off scene he did in a gay porn flick (he signed a picture for me: “To Jen – eat well, train hard!”). My parents found some pretty graphic pictures I took for a girlfriend when I was sixteen and confronted me with them; they’ve still got them stashed in a drawer, which is way-shady behavior. I love ropeburn, but hate rugburn. I don’t sleep with boys anymore, but I will always be hopelessly intrigued by the innate cockiness of sun-burned redneck boys who limbo at the Apache Pier. I read way more slash fan-fiction than I’d ever ‘fess up to, even here. My wrists are freakishly sensitive. My first celebrity crush was Demi Moore, but now I’m more into Bea Arthur. I am even more into my partner, M, who is the absolute warmest, loveliest, most earnest girl I have ever known, and who is fantastic with her hands, and who will probably be mentioned about a thousand times over this month of blogging.

I’m rambling now, and I promise, the next entry will be more coherent. In fact, I’ve got a growing list of topics and hope to tackle one post daily. But in the meantime, here’s what you should know:

I am pretty much shameless and will answer any question you put to me, via comments, e-mail, or smoke signals. My e-mail is esconde.el.sol@gmail.com, and I’m about as friendly as your standard golden retriever, so please, get in touch. Also, as always, the blog is for a cause: any money you lovelies donate will go to the Rape And Incest National Network, and will be used to fund their online hotline for those affected by sexual violence. You can donate by clicking here - if you're so kind as to kick in, make sure to mention in the 'Additional Information' field that Jen H sent you, and that I'm part of the GBBMC2008.

Also, feel free to introduce yourselves: we could be in for a long month, and I'd love to know who's reading! Until tomorrow, darlings!

1 comment:

Schuyler said...

jen! 21, stereotypical cancer, ferociously loyal, but too big an asshole at times to give anyone a chance to get that far. spoiled by pornography at a young age - cursed with sexual ADHD, utterly unable to be satisfied with what I have. also utterly convinced that no girl is ever truly done with boys ;)

looking forward to your insights and observations.