Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 334 of 344 · 20 per page

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  You remember how I felt last summer, after jury duty? I can't seem to make it go away. You mean how you felt about that lawyer? he asked. Not just her. I sort of talked myself out of thinking about her. It made me feel nuts. But now I keep noticing other women. […] I want to know what it's like to be with a woman who loves women. It just—it doesn't interest me otherwise. I paused, trying to decide if I should say it, and then I did: I want to know what it's like to be with a lesbian. I don't know how I feel about that, he said. That seems really different. […] What if you fall in love? he said. Isn't that what you're saying you want? Am I? Surely I don't want actual love? I don't want to fall in love, I said. I don't plan to fall in love. That's not what I want. Because I really don't think it's okay to fall in love with someone else, he said. […] But what if it happens? he asked. […] I think I would feel okay if you only dated women, he said. No other men. I don't want to date other men. We watched the road for a few minutes, not saying anything.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  That was it. In a single afternoon, legend has it, Joe got the information he needed, metabolized it, and accepted it. Now I think, What the fuck kind of superman does that? Could this be real—that in the mid-seventies, a Catholic could respond to his son’s coming out with not only acceptance but with a desire to be educated, to understand? Almost half a century later, it still reads like myth. Of course it was more complicated: Jerry had a wife and a child, and his coming out would upend their lives. Elaine and Joe did what they could for their daughter-in-law. But they also stood by their son. Jerry joined Dignity, a group of and for gay Catholics, and my grandparents did too. When, several years later, Jerry learned that he had HIV, he asked them to speak at schools about preventing HIV/AIDS. I remember a blurry VHS video of my grandparents in front of a classroom—Joe in brown corduroys and Elaine with her calf-length, elastic-waist denim skirt and a charm bracelet jingling at her wrist—talking to high school kids about their gay son. In my grandmother’s files, I found an interview they gave in 1990 to the National Catholic Reporter.9 “People sometimes say to me, ‘How wonderful that you treat your homosexual son so well,’” said Elaine. “Well, it’s not wonderful at all. It’s very easy and natural.” When I was a kid, people would sometimes ask if I was adopted. My parents were brunettes, my dad’s hair nearly black. Reddish hair runs on both sides of the family, but my mother always said that I got mine from Jerry. She says I have his nose too, and his freckles. My legs are long like his, the same shape as his, and I walk like he did. When he was already sick, we posed for a picture in the driveway at Know Creek Ranch, nose to identical nose, and you can tell we’re saying cheeeeeeese. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] My cousins and I were once playing at Jerry’s house, hiding from the grown-ups, when we found a book about sex for gay men. It was on the shelf above the bed Jerry shared with his partner, Tom, and as soon as we opened it, I knew we shouldn’t have. We stared for a minute, maybe not even a minute, before we shoved it back onto the shelf. But my brain held on to those images like I’d studied them for hours. I was probably nine years old, but I can still see them, black-and-whites of tall, hairy men in assorted positions, looking very pleased to be there. I wanted to see more. The feeling scared me, because I hadn’t felt it before and because I knew those pictures were not for me. But even as my face burned, I wanted to keep looking.

• From Sex Love & Misery: New York

  - You know the cliche of French are romantic guy who likes to seduce everyone, men and women, to like them because we're sophisticated and stylish? That's not the case anymore, unfortunately. - Accents, oh, if you have an accent, that's it. You could be three feet tall and the color purple but if you have an accent, especially European. - I will not try to speak with a romantic French accent. - My type is funny and funny. I think intellect is a big one but I think he'd have to be intellectual to be funny. - If you're not making fun of me, I feel like I don't really trust you that much. I feel like you need to make fun of me a little bit. If you're making fun of me, this way I know you're listening. - If they can make me laugh to the point where I pee my pants, yeah, of course. - He has to be very good in bed. Like a scale of one through ten, maybe a nine. - So I've been talking to Aisha and we decided to meet tonight. - He said, "Hello Aisha." My name is Emile", smiley face. And I said- - "Emile, my French lover!" - "Cassie, my birthday girl" (laughing). - I called her Cassie (laughing). - And then he asterisks Aisha. He said, "Sorry, my phone doesn't know your name." - I was like, oh fuck, Aisha, Aisha. I fucked up. Right from the beginning I fucked up because I was texting both girls at the same time. God, such a failure. I wanna know where in France you're from, and every detail and not in a weird way, I promise. - Wow. - That's my favorite quality about anyone is if they're not an American. - So I asked her, "Where do you live?" - "I'm Upper West Side. What about you?" He said, "that means we're very close to each other. Washington Heights." - "It's meant to be, Emile. Want to see each other this week?" - He said, "but it's gonna be super cold." - And my favorite fucking emoji, I don't know how he knew this, but it's the emoji that's just literally standing there like and there's a tear coming down. - "Now you need some good red wine, baguettes, and cheese." - "I compulsively buy wines, it's in my DNA," so I have a huge cock. - So I have a huge stock of wine at home. - (laughing) But I read cock, obviously, when I read that text, 'cause hello. - "There are some decent, warm place near me." See again, again another woman that wants for the man to come to her (sighing). Women, New York women so lazy. - Smiley face, yes please. - "If Saturday ends up being too much, why don't we move to Sunday?" See, I said, "Yeah, sure, let's be flexible." - I promise, I can be very flexible.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  If you are skeptical and doubtful that nonmonogamy can work, then it won’t work. If you believe in the freedom of desires and have the determination to pursue what’s in your heart, anything is possible. WENDY-O MATIK In any case, don’t be talked into arrangements that you know are impossible for you. (One woman wrote about what she called “crappy non-monogamy”—a situation in which “not everyone involved really wanted non-monogamy” but, out of fear of losing a partner, went along with the arrangement. The same could be said of “crappy” monogamy.) Self-denial doesn’t prove love. Be honest with yourself and your partner. Are you by nature polyamorous? Does being polyamorous mean you prefer to engage in committed relationships with your sexual partners? Is one relationship more “important” than the other—and what does that mean? More sexual? More intimate? More shared responsibilities? Would you consider your life perfect with a committed spouse who encourages your ongoing crushes and sexual friendships? A three-way marriage? Partners of both genders—or a variety of genders? If you currently have one lover, do you still call yourself “polyamorous”? For some women, polyamory is as much a sexual orientation as gender preference. They speak of their desire as a way of being, not a strategy—though they will tell you there certainly are payoffs! Polyamory is not a way to fix yourself. It’s a myth that if you’re polyamorous, all that sexual variety will prevent you from ever becoming bored or having sexual conflicts. More likely, it is the intentionality and awareness with which you approach your sex life that is keeping your libido simmering, not the fact that you have more than one lover. You may have a fuck buddy whom you see now and again when your desires and schedules mesh. You may be in each other’s lives for years, share all the horrid details of your last breakup over pastry at the café “after”—or meet for sex and only sex, that’s it, put on your shoes and go. What’s Your Style? Monogamy: Having sexual relations exclusively with one partner Serial monogamy: Engaging in a series of monogamous relationships, one after the other Nonmonogamy: Having sexual relations with more than one partner Fluid-bonding: A safer-sex strategy of using latex barriers and limiting sexual activities with all but a primary sexual partner Polyamory: Having more than one sexual relationship at a time. Some women use this term to mean sexual relations with more than one partner, preferring this term to nonmonogamy, a word based on a negative. 24/7: Full-time, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, BDSM role-based relationship

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  Allow yourself to imagine the ideal sex life for you. Don’t worry about whether it’s realistic—we are trained to evaluate limitations, we are not encouraged to think freely. We worry we will be seen as greedy, self-centered, or immoral if we insist on sex lives that work for us. Don’t judge. Just brainstorm. If you keep a journal, or like to write, set a timer for five minutes (or 10 or 15) and write down everything that comes to mind when you imagine your ideal sex life. You might surprise yourself—both with the ordinariness of what you want and the fantastic: I’d get rid of all the time-consuming and energy-consuming things that interfere with sex. More three and four-day weekends! The physical limitations could go, too. I’d like to have the resilience, flexibility, and stamina that I had when I was a young woman, but with the mind I have now. I would definitely stick to my current partner, though. She’s a great lover, and I get hot just looking at her. I joke about how in my next life I’m coming back as a beautiful, well-hung fag in an age without AIDS and STDs and I’m going to fuck myself silly. I’m going to have innumerable sexual encounters. I’m going to have circle jerks and orgies and everything under the sun. It’s gonna be quite a party. Be SpecificWhen asked what kind of sex life you want, do you answer: “Great sex with a woman I love and who loves me”? That’s too vague a statement to build a life around. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to be sexually satisfied in the context of a committed relationship—of course not! Many of us want this. But a statement this vague leaves too much room for disappointment and frustration. What do you mean by “great sex”? For that matter, what do you mean by “love”? And if yours were a truly satisfying sexual life, how would you know it? Don’t minimize this question. What would have to be true for you to say, “This is it! I’m totally happy about my sex life.” What sexual activities would you engage in? With whom? How frequently? How would you feel about yourself? You can be rigorous with this. Don’t let yourself get away with easy statements and vague yearnings. (“I’ll know it when I see it” is not an acceptable answer.) Don’t fall into the trap of forever seeking out greener pastures or settling for a sex life you don’t really enjoy. Take the time to fill in the blanks. After all, it’s your life—your shared erotic life. Here’s an example: • You and I spend waking time in bed, where we are erotically focused on each other, three times per week. We might talk about sex, give each other massages, or have sex. • At least some of the time, we include cunnilingus in our play, and at least some of the time, we include anal penetration.

• From The Ultimate Guide to Orgasm for Women: How to Become Orgasmic for a Lifetime (2011)

  Productivity is paramount in technologically-based, male-oriented societies. Being still, apparently doing nothing, is considered a waste of time. But there is a kind of inner knowing, or intuition, that comes from simply being very still and allowing sensations to arise from within. Men and women have equal access to this ability if they choose it, but it is a “feminine” way of being. Consequently, it has often been belittled or dismissed. In fact, in order for any of us, female or male, to be whole people, it is necessary to integrate the masculine and the feminine internally and externally. The process of women and men redefining womanhood and manhood creates a balance of power between the two, because, ultimately, femininity and masculinity have nothing to do with external gender. They have to do with energy, with styles of communication, with ways of carrying oneself, with approaches to problem solving, and many other aspects of life more subtle than the genitals we happen to be born with. Being in touch with our feelings facilitates an openness that promotes the potential for great sex. To have really good sex, we must be in touch with our intuition, that sense in our gut of what is right and wrong, good and bad. We need to be able to feel sensations in a way that we have been trained not to. It was an integral part of my upbringing to deny my feelings, and if something felt wrong, physically or emotionally, it was my job to push on through and pretend everything was all right. If there is anything I have learned over the last twenty-plus years, it is this: when something feels wrong, especially if it is a consistent feeling, even if it is only small and nagging, then it must be brought out in the open and discussed. But in a male-dominated society, if you can’t prove something with a rational argument, then you don’t get a lot of attention. Just saying, “I don’t want this; it doesn’t feel good,” is rarely considered an adequate reason for not doing it. Yet in truth, it is the best and should be the only reason. We cannot have good sex without being in touch with our bodies, and being in touch with our bodies requires being in touch with our feelings. If we squelch our feelings, we are squelching our passion—an essential ingredient of sex. I know I have already said it a number of times, and I will say it again: verbal communication is essential. Yet, real communication occurs on a gut, or intuitive, level, without words. This is the wordless rapport that makes for an exceptional sexual experience with a partner. The first step in opening to this deep, nonverbal communication is honest verbal communication.

• From Confessions of the Flesh (The History of Sexuality, Vol. 4) (2021)

  Hence chastity is to be conceived in terms of a state and in terms of a combat: a tranquility that nothing can trouble any longer—but it’s already no longer “a human virtue or an earthly one; it seems to be, rather, the privilege of heaven, the particular gift of the angels”;35 and also a force of confrontation that demands ardor and passion if one is to triumph, plus a desire that is not completely unrelated to the very desire that it strives to combat. To attain chastity, says Cassian in a remarkable text, “let everyone be passionate […] with the same love that is seen in the miser devoured by greed, the ambitious man driven by his thirst for honors, in the man consumed by his passion for a feminine beauty, when, in the grip of an excessive impatience, they seek to satisfy their desire.”36 In spite of his many points in common with the major theorists of virginity of the fourth century, the distinction that Cassian establishes between continence and chastity reveals a rather different landscape. It is dominated by the notions of purity of heart and spiritual combat, which are especially meaningful in the monastic life from which Cassian, following Evagrius, draws his inspiration. — 1. Purity of heart. Cassian never makes use of the vocabulary of marriage, which was so constant from Methodius of Olympus to Chrysostom, to designate the state of virginity in its plenitude. It’s true that he sometimes uses terms that come close. Among the main ones, there are four that we can note. Cassian speaks of the union that joins the soul with God;37 of the “fusion” that makes it “melt” into him;38 of the Lord’s sovereign entry into it;39 of a movement by which he grasps the soul and takes possession of it.40 However, it’s not the sexual union of two individuals that serves as an implicit or explicit model for this experience, but the act of understanding (connaissance) considered as a relation between gaze, object, and light. For Cassian, the soul joined to God is not the bride-to-be finally reunited with the Bridegroom. Rather, it is the gaze that is not distracted from the point on which it has fastened, that remains so firmly attached in this way that it no longer sees anything else. When he speaks of the soul that melts into God, Cassian is not thinking of the bride absorbed in the spiritual union, but of the act of contemplation that is at one with, the same thing as, what is contemplated. As for the presence of God in the soul he takes possession of in its entirety, Cassian is not picturing the presence of the Lord on the marriage bed, but the descent into the soul of the beam of light that illuminates it, leaving no part of it in the shadows.

• From The History of Sexuality, Vol. 3: The Care of the Self (1984)

  This is brought out very clearly in what we might call a “physiologization” of desire and pleasure. Chapter Nine of Book XIV of On the Usefulness of the Parts poses the question: “Why is a very great pleasure coupled with the exercise of the generative parts?” From the outset Galen rejects the idea that the vehemence of desire and the intensity of pleasure could simply have been associated with the sexual act by the will of the creating gods as a means of inciting men to its performance. Galen does not deny that the demiurgic power so arranged things that there would be that intensity which sweeps us along. He means that it was not added in the soul as a supplement, but that it was most certainly planned as an integral consequence of the mechanisms of the body. Desire and pleasure are direct effects of anatomical dispositions and physical processes. The final cause—which is the continuation of the generations—is pursued through a material cause and an organic arrangement: “For animals acquired this desire and pleasure not simply because the gods that formed us wished a vehement desire for love to be born in us or a vehement pleasure to be coupled with it, but because a suitable material and instruments had been prepared for this purpose.”6 Desire is not just a movement of the soul, nor is pleasure a reward added in as something extra. They are the effects of a pressure and a sudden evacuation. Galen sees several pleasure factors in this mechanism. First, there is the accumulation of a humor of such a nature that it provokes intense sensations in those parts where it collects. “It is the sort of thing that happens when serous humors are heated, as they frequently are, especially when acrid humors collect under the skin of the animal and then itch and make it scratch and enjoy the scratching.”7 One must also take into account the heat that is particularly strong in the lower part, and singularly so on the right side because of the nearness of the liver and the large number of vessels that come from it. This dissymmetry with regard to heat explains the fact that boys are formed most frequently in the right uterus and girls in the left.8 It also explains why the parts on the right side are more apt to be the locus of intense pleasure. In any case, Nature gave the organs of this area a special sensitivity, much greater than that of the skin, despite their having the same functions. Lastly, the much thinner humor coming from the glandular bodies Galen calls parastata constitutes an additional material factor of pleasure. This humor, by permeating the parts involved in the sexual act, makes them more elastic and heightens the pleasure they experience. There is, then, a whole anatomical disposition and a whole physiological design that inscribe in the body and its specific mechanisms pleasure with its excessive vigor (hyperochē tēs hēdonēs), which cannot be resisted: it is amēchanos.9

• From The Ice Storm (1994)

  Outside, the weather trashed the landscaping. When she wrapped her arms around him, she knew she could break him in half. She kissed Sandy; he consented to be kissed. Sandy had no taste. He was tasteless like tap water. She could feel his ideas all confused, his uncertainty. She opened the chest of his pajamas. This was how they wore them now on Noxzema commercials and in the movies, a couple buttons opened up at the neck, chest hair overgrowing. But Sandy was a downy little babe, not encumbered with a single dark hair. He leaned back so she could open the pajama top. Herself, she was doffing layer after layer, trying to keep the pace up—hard to do in winter—her sweater, her turtleneck, her T-shirt. And they rubbed their chests together, the tips of her breasts, just beginning to be breasts, and then they worked on the rest of their clothes. Wendy carefully pulled off ski pants and panties all at once—so that she could conceal the soiled garter belt, the one she had taken from Mike’s room. Sandy was too preoccupied with his own nakedness to notice. —Get ’em off, she said to him, laughing at the sound of haste. Laughing at her own forthrightness. And pretty soon they were naked. His little soldier was at sharpest attention, like G. I. Joe with Lifelike Hair back when he was among the living. —Under covers, Wendy said. Sandy threw back the comforter and they slid under it. Sandy laughed again, and Wendy laughed, and the laughter was good. She took his hairless penis in her hand, and she cupped his hairless testicles, and she kissed his nipples, and they rolled around like that for a while. —Have you had a nocturnal emission? she asked. —Huh? —That’s the name for when you wake up and find this little pool of sticky stuff. Supposedly like after a sexy dream. He shook his head. —They didn’t tell you this stuff yet? What planet do you live on? Sandy didn’t want to answer questions, though; he wanted to continue. When his knee pushed up between her legs, when his hip mashed against her, she shivered, but it didn’t seem to be leading anywhere particularly. He didn’t know what he was doing. She could kiss his little pig-in-a-blanket. But she realized pretty soon the futility of the whole thing. There weren’t going to be any orgasms, simultaneous or even regular, old orgasms, in this guest room. But maybe that was okay. She didn’t know much about them anyway. Orgasm was a word she had looked up a dozen times, and still she didn’t exactly know what it meant. Masturbation—excitation of the genitals, usually to orgasm, from the Latin manus stuprare , to defile by the hand. How many episodes, in the months before her first period, without anything but a nifty tingling. It was like the shock you got off a metal door handle after padding around in socks.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  Clits come in all shapes and sizes and are as individual as the women who own them. Your clitoris may be a tiny pearl hidden beneath the folds of its hood or as big as a thumb protruding from your labia. It can be deep red, pale pink, or dark purple—and the color will deepen with arousal. You may crave intense clitoral stimulation or quiver at the slightest caress of a fingertip over your clitoral hood. Understanding that the clitoris is hardly the little “nub” described in traditional anatomy texts will broaden your approach to clitoral play. The clitoris is an extensive structure of erectile tissue, beginning at the top of the vulva with the body of the clitoris (glans, hood, and shaft), cradling the urethra, and reaching down to flank the vaginal opening. (See chapter 3, Anatomy and Sexual Response.) Stimulating the body of the clit is just the beginning. You can direct your attention to your partner’s labia, urethral area, vaginal opening, and perineum. Of course, when she begs, “Please touch my clit!” you can return your focus to her clitoral glans, hood, and shaft. The Art of the HandLesbians have sensitive hands—after all, we make love with our hands. We use our hands to caress and arouse our partners, and to bring them to orgasm. Many of us are very tactile; we get off from touching as much as from being touched. Through our hands, we ride our partners’ pleasure. However, the myth that every lesbian or bisexual woman innately knows how to touch another’s clitoris is just that—yet another myth. Women are far too specific about our preferences for this to be true. I like my clit touched low, down near my urethra, and rubbed around in a circle, like a ball. Traditional sex guides dismiss touching as “mutual masturbation”—as if pleasure we deliver with our hands (and, for that matter, masturbation) doesn’t count as “real” sex. Of course, we know better. Take a TourThere are many ways to discover what kind of clitoral stimulation a partner will like, and the discovery can be as much fun with a new partner as with a partner of many years. For starters, ask her. In bed or at a café, you can initiate a conversation that may well be a prelude to hot sex. You can request a tour of her vulva. If she has even a hint of exhibitionist tendencies, she’ll be more than happy to oblige you. And if you have a hint of the voyeur in you, this could make an exciting sexual scene in itself. Pick a time when you’re both relaxed. Make sure the room is warm enough for you to be comfortably nude and sufficiently well lit for you to see every fold and detail of her vulva. Ask your partner to undress—you can strip down as well. Arrange lube, gloves, and sex toys nearby.

• From The History of Sexuality, Vol. 3: The Care of the Self (1984)

  This ruse brings three elements into play. First, the organs that are given to all animals and are used for fertilization. Next, a capacity for pleasure that is extraordinary and “very keen.” Lastly, in the soul, the longing (epithumia) to make use of these organs—a marvelous, inexpressible (arrhēton) desire. The “sophism” of sex does not therefore reside simply in a subtle anatomical arrangement and in carefully planned mechanisms; it also consists in their association with a pleasure and a desire, the singular force of which is “even beyond words.” To overcome the incompatibility between her plan and the limitations of her materials, Nature had to place the principle of a force, an extraordinary dynamis, in the body and soul of the living creature. Hence the wisdom of the demiurgic principle, which, knowing very well the substance of her work and consequently its limits, invented this mechanism of excitement—this “sting” of desire. (Here Galen repeats the traditional image, by which one spoke metaphorically of the uncontrolled vehemence of desire.3) So that, experiencing this sting, even those animals that are incapable of understanding the purpose of Nature in her wisdom—because they are young, foolish (aphrona), or without reason (aloga)—do in fact accomplish it.4 By their intensity the aphrodisia serve a rationality which those who engage in them do not even need to know. 2. The physiology of sexual acts in Galen is still marked by some fundamental traits found in the earlier traditions. In the first place, there is the isomorphism of these acts in the man and the woman. For Galen, it rests on the principle of an identity of the anatomical apparatus in the two sexes: “Consider first whichever parts you please, turn outward the woman’s, turn inward, so to speak, and fold double the man’s, and you will find them the same in both in every respect.”5 He assumes the emission of sperm by the woman as well as by the man, the difference being that the production of this humor is less perfect in the woman and less complete—which explains its minor role in the formation of the embryo. One also finds in Galen the traditional model of the paroxysmal process of excretion that traverses the body, shakes it, and exhausts it. But the analysis he gives of this phenomenon deserves nonetheless to be examined. It has the double effect of linking, very closely, the mechanisms of the sexual act with the organism as a whole, while making it a process in which the individual’s health, and possibly his very life, is at risk. At the same time that it inserts the act into a dense and unbroken physiological web, it invests it with a high potential for danger.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  Even if you have no intention of placing an ad, writing one is a useful exercise. Why? A good ad lists both the qualities of the person you’re seeking and the qualities you have to offer—plus a memorable headline, some vivid description, and a bit of witty repartee. In newspaper and magazine ads, you may be limited to 50 words. Not a small task even for a seasoned copywriter. you = f2m who likes to fuck. me = f who likes to get fucked. me + you = lots of fucking. i promise i am totally cute. so let’s listen to some make-out music and get down to it. Check out the ads in your local queer newspaper or arts and culture weekly. The nature and tone of the ads will give you an idea of who’s using this particular venue and what they’re looking for. In print publications, placing the ad is usually free, while those answering the ads are paying for the service. Other venues for personal ads include the Internet (see below), organizational and community newsletters, national lesbian and gay magazines, and “straight” magazines with a hip readership. Sex on the InternetI found my current partner on the Internet. Risky? Yes. Silly? Perhaps. That aside, this is the healthiest, hottest, most solid relationship I’ve ever had. Lately, women have been meeting and mating by way of the Internet in growing numbers. Whether or not you intend a face-to-face encounter, you’ll find buzzing conversations, flirtations, and sex. As a medium for meeting people the Internet has some advantages: There’s something for everyone on the Interet. If you can imagine it, you can probably find it, and if not, you can start it. You can transcend the limits of geography. Even if you feel isolated in “real” life—the only boi in your campus queer group, or the only queer woman in a wheelchair in the entire county—you can create your own virtual community. Beauty isn’t always skin deep, and while many women exchange photos online, many more get to know one another through conversation—which is something of an equalizer, as you don’t need to have the latest “do” to attract attention. Chatrooms are great for those who feel more comfortable in conversation than on the dance floor. There’s safety in anonymity; you can ask questions and try new things without worrying about looking silly. You can be anyone or anything you like. No one knows you came out two weeks ago. No one knows online whether you’re pre-op or post-op. You can grow accustomed to being yourself in the world. One person’s Internet advantage will be another’s disadvantage. That written and conversational cues supersede visual and cultural cues isn’t a selling point for everyone—not everyone feels comfortable communicating in writing or wants to learn how to use a computer. There’s a lot of trite conversation on the Internet. You have to put up with spam, endless spam. And publicly accessible chatrooms can be infiltrated by queer bashers and trollers.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  Geography, Not DestinyWhether you live in Louisville or London, the basics of meeting potential sex partners are the same. Sure, finding lovers becomes difficult when you can count the lesbians on your campus on your fingers—and still have a couple left over to vent your frustration. If your town boasts few queer social resources, you’ll have to muster all your creativity (and self-confidence) to find sex partners. But even in cities with bustling queer communities—New York, London, Berlin, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Sydney—the well seems to run dry at times. You can fly to San Francisco for the annual Pride parade, line up on Market Street with the cheering crowd half a million strong, and overhear an adorable pierced-and-tattooed dyke complain that she can’t find a lover. Deprivation thinking will keep you, well, deprived. Honestly, if you think negatively enough, you’ll discover a dyke shortage in Provincetown at the height of summer. Want to find a girlfriend, trick, fuck buddy, or summer fling? Indulge yourself in every erotic delight at your disposal—especially your own erotic imagination and capacity for self-pleasure. Shine on yourself. And in the meantime, here are a few pointers for finding sex partners: • Know who you are and what you want. • Take risks. So maybe you’re not a party girl—but how many invitations have you turned down lately? • Get out of your shell. Never been to a club? Dust off those dancing shoes. • Throw a party. • Get involved in your community. You’ll meet women who care about the same things you do. • Let your friends know you’re looking. • Go to a sex party—even if you don’t have a date. Take a friend. • Place a personal ad in your local queer press, alternative weekly, or online. • Learn how to talk about sex. There’s more to finding sex partners than moving to a city with favorable demographics or buying a new black leather miniskirt—though you will look irresistible in the East Village. Before you rent the U-Haul or spend next week’s paycheck, learn some basic communication skills. You’ll be a more confident and competent partner—and you’ll learn about yourself in the process. Talk Talk TalkI like it when she squeezes my nipples and talks dirty to me while I beat off. Very hot. Many women enjoy talking about sex. It can be thrilling to be told in scrumptious detail how much a lover wants you—and to tell her exactly what you plan to do once you get your hands on her. Desire—communicated in no uncertain terms—is a gift we give each other. Think of your tongue as a sex toy (not just for oral sex) and of sex talk as foreplay. Your words can stoke the fires as effectively as kisses and caresses.

• From The Ultimate Guide to Orgasm for Women: How to Become Orgasmic for a Lifetime (2011)

  Self-stimulation—our relationship to our own bodies—is a very important practice, but human beings are naturally gregarious and we need connections with other human beings. Being in touch with our feelings facilitates an open-ness that promotes the potential for very good sex. Sex in a relationship is very important to me. It’s about communication and really giving each other something. Many people believe that the goal of spirituality is to free ourselves from the roller coaster of our emotions. It is certainly desirable to be in and come from a place of love rather than a place of fear. But denial of our feelings is not going to bring us to a place of enlightenment. There is no such thing as a wrong feeling—there is only a wrong way to act. We can learn to express difficult emotions in ways that don’t damage other people. Getting in touch with our empathic and compassionate selves allows us to relinquish our judgmental tendencies. Being a spiritually aware person does not mean relinquishing great passion and desire. It is my belief that any spiritual practice should involve being most fully who we are, and being wholeheartedly involved in everything we do. We are here on this earth to be human beings, not to rise above the experience of being human. And to be fully human means to be passionate, sexual, angry, grief-stricken, joyful, loving, wonderful. I feel passion is always bubbling beneath the surface of my being. Separation, Oneness, and Passion If I had to define spirituality, I would say it is the sense of our selves as not “separate.” We cannot be separate from something when we allow ourselves to feel passionate about it, when we throw ourselves into it with undiluted enthusiasm. We need to be able to do this with sex. Sadly, in our society, unrestrained passion is often seen as inappropriate, childlike behavior. It is considered mature, more adult, to distance ourselves from what we do and what we feel, and never to show signs of being out of control. The process of growing up could be interpreted as a process of defining and maintaining ourselves as separate. Feeling intensely was the crime of my childhood and of my adolescence, and I was always told to put a lid on it. I’ve learned that putting a lid on it is what makes me really depressed.

• From Three Women (2019)

  Why the long face, Aidan, what’s wrong? she writes almost immediately. She thinks how good it must feel to be him. There must be a wonderful sensation of power in knowing that if he wants anything at all from her, all he has to do is touch a button. Maybe you have a pic to send me, Aidan writes. Lina does, in fact, have a whole album of prepared pictures for him. Two days ago in the tanning salon she stood naked on the carpet with its brown lotion stains and the lime glow of the humming beds seeping out from other rooms and held her broke-ass phone up above her head and snapped a picture of her body. This is what she sends him now, praying the phone won’t die before she gets a response and praying other people won’t use up her battery by texting her because everyone who isn’t Aidan is a barnacle on her leg. Aidan writes, A new hot pic would be nice. Fuck him, she thinks, but she’s laughing at the same time because the more he wants from her the better, and the more he is unimpressed the more she wants to impress him. She sends him a picture of her haircut. He writes, Sexy lingerie would be nice. She strips down to her black lace panties and push-up bra that she bought for him. She lies down on the bed and takes a few pictures of herself and sends the best one. Her mobile phone is dying, but she has an iPod with a decent amount of battery left. On the iPod she can use Facebook messenger to communicate with him. So she begs him to switch over. It’s easy for him. He can access Facebook from his phone. Lina writes, Please get on Facebook, my phone’s dying! She didn’t bring a charger. No matter how much she prepares to see him, the universe contrives to wreck something. At the last minute one of her children will need a certain stuffed animal she put in the wash, or her car won’t start. She strips down to nothing in the hotel bed. If she’s naked he might sense her openness in the atmosphere. She closes her eyes and imagines that at any moment he will knock on the door to Room 517. She got the room, just in case. She was going to meet a friend in his neck of the woods for drinks, then the friend canceled at the last minute, but Lina already had the room and the kids were with Ed, so she stayed over. She told Aidan where she was, she told him it must be less than ten miles from his house. She knew it was a long shot that he would come and meet her, but it felt better to sleep closer to where he was sleeping anyhow. Please get on Facebook, she repeats.

• From Confessions of the Flesh (The History of Sexuality, Vol. 4) (2021)

  But why would such a rupture be necessary since, if one is to believe Basil, this attraction results only from the will of God? Because souls that in themselves are equal and identical in nature, hence without sexual differentiation,8 are affected by the movements of the body to which they are connected. They receive, as it were, the impregnation of their corporeal sex, becoming masculine or feminine, and they can accede to the love of the incorporeal God only by breaking off these affections. Basil gives two forms to this rupture, both of which, although each in a different way, are based on the idea of a certain equivalence between pleasure as a principle of attraction between the sexes, and pleasure as a general form of darkening or weighing down of the soul by the body. Basil first explains that pleasure (hedônê) is generically unique, that consequently it’s necessary to dominate not only the pleasure that drives us to the union of the sexes, but also all the others as well. And since the flow of pleasure doesn’t cease to come and go, to become agitated and bring its disturbance through the five senses and even to tangible objects, and from these, turning back on the soul, it is necessary—and this will be a crucial component of the art of virginity—to watch these entrances and exits and channels, to stay vigilant at the gate of the senses. A whole economy of these pleasure flows must be constructed by focusing one’s attention on the boundaries of the body and the outside world, on these organs of perception and what they may perceive. An economy of the gaze, which mustn’t be directed haphazardly to everything the eyes can capture; an economy of hearing, which mustn’t attend to everything that is said, but to what it would be useful to learn. What is recommended, in short, is a selective closing off of the body to the external world, in response to a danger intrinsic to the pleasure urges that disturb and in a certain way “sexualize” the soul. Now, among these senses that need to be closed at least partially, there is one to which Basil gives a central importance. It’s the sense of touch. For two reasons, he says: The sense of touch is more powerful than the others for giving rise to the pleasures of sex. It is also important for tasting (which Basil seems to consider a kind of touching), and food and drink are among the most important factors for stimulating the sexual pleasures. Second and foremost, the sense of touch functions as the general form of all the senses. In each of them, it is touch that imprints the soul with the image of the external things whose different kinds touch the body; it is what makes them spread through the body and trouble the soul. The sense of touch constitutes the general medium, as it were, of the whole corporeal sensitivity. It is more or less present, more or less active, more or less determinant in every form of sensation. So if one intends to control the movement of the pleasures that stream through all the sensory channels, one should pay the most attention to touch. “Avoid contacts”: a precept that must be understood in the precise sense of the word. Basil cites several applications of this: avoid embraces, contacts between men and women, even brothers and sisters, while those taking place between two persons of the same sex are without danger.9 But it should also be understood in a more general way: reduce the strength of the body, weaken its responses, make sure that its impulses don’t move the soul too forcefully, due to its excessive vigor. And more generally still: avoid the contact of the body as a whole (as the site of all contact) with the soul. This theme of separation between body and soul, their reciprocal isolation, returns in different forms throughout the text: image of the soul that must carefully close its windows, instead of being like the prostitutes who keep theirs wide open and always show themselves there;10 of the master of the house who keeps his door locked shut when the soldiers try to get in to find lodging;11 of water and oil that must stay separated to avoid being troubled.12 Let the soul and the body remain carefully separated, therefore: by keeping them both “in their place, in their role, and in accordance with their use,” one will make peace reign between them.13

• From White Oleander (1999)

  In someone’s nightstand, more likely. Or around her throat even, how could I know? I take the sliding glass door off the track of a two-story house in Mar Vista. A child-molester offering you candy, a ride in his car. So this was how someone like Sergei seduced a woman he wanted. Where just his smell and voice and the blue ropes of vein in his arms was enough, those sleepy blue eyes now sparkling under silver lids, that criminal smile. He pulled a sad face. “Astrid. Beauty girl. This is gift from my heart.” Sergei’s heart. That empty corridor, that unaired room. Sentimentalism is the working off on yourself of feelings you haven’t really got. If I were a good girl, I would be insulted, I would kick him out. I would ignore his smile, and shape of him inside his jeans. But he knew me. He smelled my desire. I felt myself slipping toward the windows, pulled by thin air. He hooked the chain around my neck. Then he took my hand and put it on his groin, warm, I could feel him getting hard under my hand. It was obscene, and it excited me to feel him there, a man I wanted like falling. He leaned down and kissed me the way I wanted to be kissed, hard and tasting of last night’s booze-up. He unzipped my polyester shirt, pulled it over my head, took my skirt off and threw it onto Yvonne’s bed. His hands waking me up, I’d been sleeping, I hadn’t even known it, it had been so long. Then he stopped, and I opened my eyes. He was looking at my scars. Tracing the Morse code of dog bite on my arms and legs with his fingertips, then the bullet scars, shoulder, chest, and hip, measuring their depth with his thumb, calculating their age and severity. “Who does this to you?” How could I begin to explain who did it to me. I would have to start with the date of my birth. I glanced at the door, still open, we could hear the TV. “Is this an exhibition or what?” He shut it noiselessly, unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the chair, pulled off his pants. His body white as milk, blue-veined, it was frightening, lean and dense as marble. It took my breath away. How could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer. He knew how to touch me, knew what I liked. I wasn’t surprised. I was a bad girl, lying down for the father again. His mouth on my breasts, his hands over my bottom, up between my legs.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  The judge is speaking again, and I'm not listening. I'm watching the woman in the suit. Under the crisp lapels of her jacket, there's a swelling across her chest, a softness that says female. I wonder what it would feel like to put my arm around her. Her shoulders would be solid, more substantial than my own. If I think on it, I can feel them under my triceps, sound as a fence.

• From Confessions of the Flesh (The History of Sexuality, Vol. 4) (2021)

  The relation of chastity is developed, then, according to two axes. First, chastity appears as an essential prerequisite of spiritual science. No one can hope to arrive at the latter if one doesn’t start by practicing the chastity that results in purity of heart. From the beginning of the Institutes, Cassian, in explaining the meaning of monastic dress, shows that the girdle (which signifies the desire to destroy all the seeds of lust) attests to the ascetic’s ardor “for spiritual progress and the science of divine things that purity of heart gives.”41 But it’s in the fourteenth Conference, that of Abbot Nesteros, that Cassian gives this theme its full scope. Spiritual knowledge demands purity of heart and chastity in the very general sense that it is incompatible with agitation of thought, the disorderly movement of the imagination, and any concern with the things of the world: “If you would prepare in your heart a holy tabernacle of spiritual knowledge, purge yourselves from the stain of all sins, and rid yourselves of the cares of this world. For it is an impossibility for the soul which is taken up even to a small extent with worldly troubles, to gain the gift of knowledge or to become an author of spiritual interpretation, diligent in the reading of holy things.”42 But much more precisely, chastity as control of the carnal passions in the strict sense is indispensable to spiritual science. The latter, like a perfume, cannot subsist in a soiled container: “A jar once permeated by evil smells will more easily contaminate the most fragrant myrrh than receive from it some sweetness of capacity to please. Purity is corrupted more speedily than corruption is made pure […] So then if you are anxious to win the incorruptible fragrance of Scripture, begin by turning your effort to winning the cleanness of chastity from the Lord.”43 Finally, it needs to be understood that the chastity of the body is the first form of a series of “chastities” the mind must take on in order to advance toward spiritual knowledge without ever losing sight of it. One must renounce fornication of the body if one means to understand the Scriptures, but it’s also necessary to stay well away from that “fornication” constituted by pagan ceremonies, the soothsayers, the omens, and from that other fornication which is the observance of the Judaic type of law, and from that other one still, that consists of heresy, and finally from the one that makes thought stray—however little—from God, on whom it should always stay focused. And as these different fornications are excluded and the mind becomes chaste in a more and more spiritual sense, the meaning of Scripture will emerge from its mysteries and will appear with increasingly spiritual values.44 The practice of chastity and the comprehension of the Word grow in spirituality simultaneously. Cassian goes so far as to say, in the Institutes, that chastity, in its perfect form, suffices for understanding the Scripture.

• From The Great Believers (2018)

  I mean, do you? Because seriously, when you talk after sex, it’s different. I think it’s why Freud had everyone lie down.” “Did Freud sleep with his patients?” “I think so.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Julian died—God, I don’t even know how long ago. You know, depending how close you were to someone . . . There were some people who drew you in, leaned on you, and you spent more time with them in those last months than you ever had before. And there were people where if you were outside their closest circle, they shut you out. Not in an unkind way, it’s just they didn’t need you. You’d have been an interruption, you know? And I wasn’t in Julian’s tightest circle. And anyway, in the end, he shut everyone out.” Jake looked like he didn’t follow. “Okay,” he said. “There was this competitive grieving thing that could happen. People would crowd into the hospital and stand around for days, sort of posturing . That sounds terrible, but it’s true. Not that they had bad intentions, just . . . you always want to believe you’re important in someone’s life. And sometimes, in the end, it turns out you aren’t.” Jake ran his tongue down her ear and then along her clavicle. “One more time,” he said. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, staring deep like he was trying to get their pupil dilation synced up. The point had never been for him to get more attached, especially not with everything else going on. There were sounds out in the apartment. “Shit,” she said. “If it’s just Richard he’ll go to bed soon. You can sneak out then, okay?” “Alright,” he said, and closed his eyes. “I’m not an alcoholic. That was a joke.” “How is that funny?” “I don’t know. I was drunk.” Fiona must have fallen asleep, because she was on a bus in Chicago with Richard, looking for Corinne’s house. Her hand was on fire. When she rolled over in the middle of the night, Jake, thank God, was gone. 1986Bill had decreed that everyone had the afternoon off. Yale lugged his bag on the El, and then to Briar and up the two flights. He’d been away long enough to induce that wonderful coming-home-after-a-long-trip feeling, the way you’re hit with the smells of your own building, the dimensions of your own hallway, which have somehow readjusted themselves so the place feels dreamlike, off by a few vertiginous inches in every direction. He was hungry, late for lunch. He thought he might make a grilled cheese, and he wondered if there was tomato soup in the pantry. When he opened the door, Charlie’s mother stood there in a gray dress, her feet bare. He’d thought she was coming next week. Yale dropped his bag and said “Teresa!” and went to hug her. As he did, he heard the bedroom door shut.