Joy

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.

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• From The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—and Us (2017)

  If this is true, then we have to wonder why human male orgasmic pleasure evolved and how. The answer, again, is likely to be through aesthetic mate choice. Male chimps and gorillas are not sexually choosy, and they pounce on any sexual opportunity that arises. Without the involvement of mate choice, all evolutionary influence on sexual pleasure will be limited to the effects of natural selection alone. Humans, however, have evolved to be highly choosy. The history of mate choice in women and men, the evolutionary expansion of sexual behavior, copulatory frequency and duration, and so on have all created opportunities for the aesthetic coevolution and elaboration of male orgasmic pleasure as well. The evolutionary enhancement of men’s sexual pleasure is a likely consequence of the fact that human males deviate from the evolutionary psychology stereotype of them as profligate purveyors of cheap sperm. It is only by eschewing some sexual opportunities in favor of others they prefer—in other words, it is only through the operation of mate choice—that human male sexual pleasure has been able to aesthetically coevolve beyond the baseline necessary for reproductive function. The primary difference between the sexes may be that the evolution of male pleasure has been constrained by natural selection for plumbing functions, while female pleasure has not. In summary, human males and females are both a lot more sexually choosy than our close ape relatives, and the very fortunate evolutionary consequence of the choosiness we exercise in mate choice appears to be that we have evolved to experience a lot more sexual pleasure than they do. Men and women are in this together, of course, and it seems probable to me that mutual mate choice, acting on many of the same pleasure-extending and pleasure-enhancing sexual interactions, has led to the elaboration of orgasm in both sexes. In his 2000 book, The Mating Mind, the evolutionary psychologist Geoffrey Miller also proposed a role for a Fisherian “runaway process” in the evolution of human orgasm. Perhaps out of discomfort with aesthetic thinking, however, Miller imagined the process as “a stimulatory arms race” between the penis and the clitoris. This unfortunately competitive and martial analogy obfuscates the expansive, pleasurable, sensory dimension of orgasm for both sexes. The changes in penis morphology and sexual behavior that have been driven by female desire have in no way diminished male sexual pleasure. Quite the opposite. Orgasm evolution is not the result of a war between the sexes; rather, it would be better compared to an aesthetic, coevolutionary lovefest. —

• From The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—and Us (2017)

  Another way to describe the mechanism of mate choice is to say that aesthetic coevolution proceeds through the sexual agency of individuals. Thus, in a delightful and unexpectedly feminist fashion, the Pleasure Happens hypothesis identifies women as the active agents in the evolution of their own capacity for orgasmic pleasure. Women’s orgasms are both the direct experiences and the evolved consequences of women getting what they want. In this way, every woman’s orgasm is a celebration of the evolutionary history of woman’s capacity to fulfill her expansive, and expanding, sexual desires. Women’s own sexual experiences might lead them to ask, “How could it be otherwise?” [image file=image_rsrc3P3.jpg] CHAPTER 10The Lysistrata EffectWe have all seen many New Yorker cartoons of a couple lying in a double bed. A bland piece of art hangs on the wall above the headboard, and matching lamps sit on the two bedside tables. From there, the details vary. Perhaps both people are wearing chaste pajamas, reading, and the sheets and blankets are perfectly smooth over their poignantly isolated bodies. Or the sheets are in disarray, their hair is tousled, and they are in postcoital reflection. Some couples are grinding through the later years of a difficult relationship. Others are young couples just negotiating their pair bond or engaged in a random hookup. In this moment, one of them makes a pithy, ironic, dreamy, poignant, exasperated, bitter, or wistful remark. The diversity of comments presents a microcosm of the cares, aspirations, obsessions, and desires of the modern (mostly white, heterosexual) couple. The “Not tonight,…” cartoons form an entire subgenre: She: Worse than a headache! I have three kids and a full-time job! or She: Not tonight, hon, I had a yogasm in class today. The postcoital cartoons present an array of reflections upon intimacy, satisfaction, disappointment, infidelity, and the vagaries of desire. Some cartoons even parody the idea of honest Zahavian handicaps: She: I faked my orgasm. He: That’s okay. This is a fake Rolex. Others explore sexual disconnection. An attractive young couple lies separately in bed. He is looking at his iPad; she is wearing a fine negligee with her arms crossed. She: Touch anywhere to begin. Then there is the subgenre of infidelity cartoons. Woman lies in bed with another man when her husband in business suit walks into the bedroom. She: Sorry, Burt…Outsourcing. Like many good narratives, these cartoons embody conflict. These comedic scenes in couples’ beds capture the primal human drama of sexual conflict. Of course, not all of the disagreements between partners are examples of sexual conflict in the evolutionary sense. We all have personal interests and desires that may be different from our partners’. However, it is easy to see that the explicitly reproductive dramas of sex, pairing, fidelity, child rearing, investment, divorce, and family life can be informatively understood as manifestations of the ancient and enduring evolutionary phenomenon of sexual conflict.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxii. 1) After He has comforted His disciples in one way, He comforts them in another, by telling them that they were not going to Jerusalem, but to Bethany: These things saith He: and after that He saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go that I may awake him out of sleep: as if to say, I am not going to dispute again with the Jews, but to awaken our friend. Our friend, He says, to shew how strongly they were bound to go. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xlix. c. 9) It was really true that He was sleeping. To our Lord, he was sleeping; to men who could not raise him again, he was dead. Our Lord awoke him with as much ease from his grave, as thou awakest a sleeper from his bed. He calls him then asleep, with reference to His own power, as the Apostle saith, But I would not have you to be ignorant, concerning them which are asleep. (1 Thess. 4:13) Asleep, He says, because He is speaking of their resurrection which was to be. But as it matters to those who sleep and wake again daily, what they see in their sleep, some having pleasant dreams, others painful ones, so it is in death; every one sleeps and rises again with his own account.a CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxii. 1) The disciples however wished to prevent Him going to Judæa: Then said His disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Sleep is a good sign in sickness. And therefore if he sleep, say they, what need to go and awake him. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xlix. 11) The disciples replied, as they understood Him: Howbeit Jesus spake of his death; but they thought that He had spoken of taking rest in sleep. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxii. 2.) But if any one say, that the disciples could not but have known that our Lord meant Lazarus’s death, when He said, that I may awake him; because it would have been absurd to have gone such a distance merely to awake Lazarus out of sleep; we answer, that our Lord’s words were a kind of enigma to the disciples, here as elsewhere often. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xlix. 11) He then declares His meaning openly: Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxii. 2) But He does not add here, I go that I may awake him. He did not wish to anticipate the miracle by talking of it; a hint to us to shun vain glory, and abstain from empty promises. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xlix. 11) He had been sent for to restore Lazarus from sickness, not from death. But how could the death be hid from Him, into whose hands the soul of the dead had flown?

• From H Is for Hawk (2014)

  Soon after he leaves a cyclist skids to a halt and asks politely if he can look at the bird. He is absurdly handsome. He stands there with his Antonio Banderas hair, and his expensive technical jacket and titanium bike beaded with rain, and admires the hell out of her. ‘She is beautiful,’ he says. He is trying to find another word but it evades him. Beautiful will have to do. He says it again. Then he thanks me over and over again for the hawk. ‘So close!’ he says. ‘I have never seen a hawk so close.’ In Mexico he has only seen wild ones, and only far away. ‘I like to watch them because they are . . .’ And he makes a movement with one hand as if it were something lifting into the air. ‘Free,’ I say. He nods, and I do too, and in some wonder, because I am beginning to see that for some people a hawk on the hand of a stranger urges confession, urges confidences, lets you speak words about hope and home and heart. And I realise, too, that in all my days of walking with Mabel the only people who have come up and spoken to us have been outsiders: children, teenage goths, homeless people, overseas students, travellers, drunks, people on holiday. ‘We are outsiders now, Mabel,’ I say, and the thought is not unpleasant. But I feel ashamed of my nation’s reticence. Its desire to keep walking, to move on, not to comment, not to interrogate, not to take any interest in something peculiar, unusual, in anything that isn’t entirely normal. I’m in an expansive, celebratory mood. Today Mabel flew four feet to my fist from the back of a chair in my front room. ‘You’re doing brilliantly,’ I tell her. ‘Time for a walk. Let’s go and meet my friend’s kids. They’ll love you.’ A few minutes later I knock on a door and my friend’s husband opens it. My hawk flinches. So do I: this man was exceptionally rude to me once. But whatever. It doesn’t matter. Maybe he was having a bad day. Forgive, forget. My friend isn’t in. I stand before the door and tell him about the hawk. I tell him her age, her sex, her species, her name. I tell him that I’d thought her taming would be the kind of agonising battle I’d read about in The Goshawk. ‘But it’s been a total surprise,’ I say. ‘There’s been no battle at all. Which isn’t my doing, I’m sure. She’s a freakishly calm hawk.’ And the man inclines his head to one side, and smiles. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘that’ll be a gendered thing.’ ‘Gendered?’ ‘Yes. You’re a woman, and she’s female. Of course you get on,’ he says.

• From Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality (2007)

  Then the couple would come out, and the celebration would begin. Now that they’ve had sex, they’re married. And the celebration would be massive, often lasting for days. Lots of wine. Lots of dancing. Lots of singing and stories and laughing. Jesus attended a wedding where the host ran out of wine. The party had already been going on for a while, and yet it wasn’t over. Jesus wants it to continue, so he turns some water into more wine. We’re told that he does it with “six stone water jars, each holding from twenty to thirty gallons.” If you do the math, that’s somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons of wine. A bit more than cake and a punch bowl on a Saturday afternoon. Sex Is Marriage? Let’s go back for a minute to the “now that they’ve had sex, they’re actually married” part. Because central to the celebration of their marriage is the celebration that they are sexual beings. And central to their union is their sexual relationship. Everybody at the celebration knows that they’ve had sex because they sat outside and waited. Their understanding is that sex is not an optional thing for a marriage, something couples can take or leave. The sexual bond is central to what it means to be married. No consummation, no marriage. This understanding of sex as marriage is found throughout the Bible because it was thought of this way throughout the ancient world. In Exodus 22 the command reads, “If a man seduces a virgin who is not pledged to be married and sleeps with her, he must pay the bride-price, and she shall be his wife.”13 If this seems barbaric, it gets even more extreme in Deuteronomy 22: “If a man happens to meet a virgin who is not pledged to be married and rapes her and they are discovered, he shall pay her father fifty shekels of silver. He must marry the young woman, for he has violated her. He can never divorce her as long as he lives.”14 Obviously we’re repulsed by the inhumane treatment of women in these passages, and at first glance it seems there’s nothing remotely redeeming about these laws. But the Bible was always ahead of its time. Women basically had no rights in the ancient Near East. A man could do anything he wanted to her. He could rape her and then be on his way. He was free from the consequences of his actions. And a woman who had been raped was considered violated and unclean and would often be considered unworthy to be anyone’s wife. But this passage essentially says to the man, “You want to have sex with her? Then you must take her as your wife, take care of her, provide for her needs, fulfill your duties as a husband to her. She is your equal, and you will treat her as such.”

• From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)

  According to the book of Ezra, the policy of Cyrus toward the Judeans was rather similar to his policy toward the Babylonians. An edict cited in Hebrew in Ezra 1:2-4 declares, “Thus says King Cyrus of Persia: YHWH the God of heaven has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem in Judah. Any of those among you who are of his people—may their God be with them!—are now permitted to go up to Jerusalem in Judah, and rebuild the house of the Lord, the God of Israel—he is the God who is in Jerusalem.” The authenticity of this edict has been questioned, but it is certainly the case that Cyrus authorized Judeans to return from Babylon to Jerusalem and to rebuild the temple there. Since he told the Babylonians that he was chosen by Marduk, we should not be surprised that he told the Judeans that he was chosen by YHWH. Whether he did or not, it seemed self-evident to a prophet of YHWH such as Second Isaiah that such a turn of events could only have been brought about by the God of Israel. The so-called Cyrus Cylinder; British Museum, London. The euphoria of (at least some) Judeans at the edict of Cyrus rings loud and clear in Second Isaiah. Some scholars think that the prophet predicted the rise of Cyrus and the release of the Judeans. It is easier to suppose that he prophesied after the fact. The setting is most probably Babylon. There is no awareness in chapters 40–55 of the problems that would confront the exiles when they returned to Judea. We should suppose then that these oracles were delivered within a year or so of the fall of Babylon. The oracles of Second Isaiah are not as diverse a collection as those we have found in other prophetic books. They consist of a series of short poems. There is no consensus on the actual delimitation and number of these poems; one scholar distinguished as many as seventy in chapters 40–66. A more reasonable

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

  For an intense buzz, try a coil-operated electric vibrator, like the Wahl, which produces quite strong sensations and features a small point of contact that can focus sensation on a very small area. The all-time best-selling Hitachi Magic Wand, with its tennis-ball shaped head, produces somewhat more diffuse sensations, though you can slip an attachment over the head for more specifically focused vibrations. Battery-operated vibrators tend to produce sensations that are less intense than those of electric vibrators, though recent models offer much greater sensation. They also don’t hold up to years of use, unlike many electric vibrators. However, they come in many more shapes and styles than electric vibrators and are much less expensive. Battery-operated vibrators are quite versatile—they’re easily adapted to use with dildos and harnesses as well as other toys. Plus, they’ll fit in your pocket, purse, backpack, suitcase, and the glove compartment of your car. (See chapter 10, Clitoral Play.) For solo delights, I like the Rabbit Pearl, a rotating dildo with revolving “pearls” in the shaft and two vibrating bunny ears that fit on either side of my clit…. Yum! Do You Like Nipple Stimulation?You may enjoy playing with clothespins, tweezer and alligator clamps, tit pumps, suction cups, hot wax, piercing needles, and other toys. Try wetting your nipple with lube and then caressing it as you would your clitoris. (See chapter 9, Breast Play, and “Teach Yourself Some New Tricks” in chapter 15, Play Nice!….) [image file=image_rsrc64P.jpg] Illustration 20. Vibrators Do You Like Vaginal Penetration?My favorite toy is my slender, curving, purple-and-black-swirled silicone dildo, Champ. I think its form is elegant, and its coloring beautiful. It’s just the right size for me when I’m really hot and loose. Dildos come in all sizes and shapes—from the diminutive 5-inch Pal to the meaty 10-inch Prince. You’ll find dildos in silicone, rubber, Cyberskin, and other materials. Dildos are available in a variety of colors—black, lavender, and swirl patterns, among many others. You no longer need to put up with a sickly pinkish hue marketed as “flesh tone” (which one savvy retailer calls DOA Caucasian). You can buy dildos in a variety of abstract designs, realistic dildos with veins and balls, dildos shaped like dolphins, double dildos, battery-operated vibrating dildos, and dildos with a slit in the base to fit a small egg-shaped vibrator. Do you like deep thrusting rather than a feeling of fullness? Try a long, slender dildo. Make sure it’s firm enough to stay rigid. Do you like a feeling of being stretched wide? You might like a thick, squat dildo. I love my amethyst Jelly Jewel. It’s a bit too long (10 inches) but it’s the perfect width—almost 2 inches. It’s realistic—it doesn’t apologize for its invasive attitude.

• From The Sex-Starved Marriage: Boosting Your Marriage Libido: A Couple's Guide (2003)

  Although we discussed her feelings about his on-line activity more extensively, Gladys admitted that their sex life had been practically nonexistent for four years. I asked her why she thought this was so. She told me that her husband mentioned he was unhappy about her allowing herself to get out of shape. She said, “I’ll be damned if I go on a diet just because of that!” but as our conversation unfolded, Gladys admitted to being unhappy about her size regardless of her husband’s feelings. In fact, at the end of the session, she admitted that prior to our first session, she had already started a new diet and a regime of daily walking. She had lost five pounds. I congratulated her on her accomplishments and on her decision to get back into shape. I reminded her that substantial weight loss doesn’t happen overnight and that she might not get kudos from her husband at first. I urged her to keep her spirits up and stay on her plan even if he didn’t yet notice the changes. However, happily, her husband was very much tuned into the fact that she had begun to take better care of herself. He offered to walk with her in the evenings. She was very pleased. And although she wasn’t svelte, her self-confidence improved almost immediately. “It just helped to be doing something about this situation,” she said. And it wasn’t long after that, two weeks to be exact, that she initiated sex, and her husband responded positively—to hear her tell it, very positively in fact. If you haven’t bothered to work on yourself because you feel overwhelmed or you think that your spouse won’t even notice, you may be wrong. Just the fact that you’re being proactive might make the difference. If, on the other hand, you’ve tried to improve your health but have given up very quickly, your spouse probably won’t be jumping up and down just because you said you’re ready to give it another shot. In fact, s/he might be skeptical about your willingness to stay committed to your plan. If so, your spouse won’t be cheering you on. You will have to be your own cheerleader. Or join a weight loss group or a work-out class. You’ll have other people rooting for you. Just stay the course. It will be worth it. The Do-It-Yourself Solution

• From Little Women (1868)

  Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?" he added, all in one breath. "Oh, yes!" said Jo, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it. It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account of the mud. Neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it. So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Jo very much, I don't think he could have done it then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more "Jove-like" than ever, though his hatbrim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending. Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss. While Jo trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course, she was the first to speak—intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous "Oh, yes!" were not of a coherent or reportable character. "Friedrich, why didn't you..." "Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died!" cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight. "I always call you so to myself—I forgot, but I won't unless you like it." "Like it? It is more sweet to me than I can tell.

• From Little Women (1868)

  "Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins." Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and confidante of both children, and the trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a name to them, Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory, but Aunt Dodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her, for which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bhaer came, Jo neglected her playfellows, and dismay and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost her best customer and became bankrupt. Demi, with infantile penetration, soon discovered that Dodo like to play with 'the bear-man' better than she did him, but though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate drops in his waistcoat pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of its case and freely shaken by ardent admirers. Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi didn't see it in that light, and continued to patronize the 'the bear-man' with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures surpassing worth. Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard, but this counterfeit philoprogenitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not deceive anybody a particle. Mr. Bhaer's devotion was sincere, however likewise effective—for honesty is the best policy in love as in law. He was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see—well, he always asked for Mr. March, so I suppose he was the attraction. The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was, and reveled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him. Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study, astonished by the spectacle that met his eye. Prone upon the floor lay Mr. March, with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him, likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face... "Father, Father, here's the Professor!" Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity, "Good evening, Mr. Bhaer. Excuse me for a moment.

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

  Technologically innovative vibrator designs abound: dual-action vibes (clit stimulation plus penetration), remote-control vibes, pretty vibes, waterproof vibes, stronger battery-operated vibes, strap-on vibes, and vibes that swirl and pulse as well as vibrate. Pocket rockets are among the most popular battery-operated vibrators. Hardly bigger than a lipstick, they can be kept anywhere. They’re cheap and their many imitators come in colors to match your favorite purse. Or your entire shoe collection. Fukuoku 9000 finger vibes caused a sensation when they appeared in sex toy stores. They’re cute, fit on your finger tips, and pack a whole lotta buzz in such a small package. Then there’s the Audi-Oh Butterfly vibe. The vibe straps on where you want it most, and a control (which looks like a pager) innocently hangs off your belt. The vibrator pulses in time to music. As if you needed a reason to go dancing. Other innovations in multitasking include a pantheon of toys that provide additional stimulation during strap-on sex. Harness cuffs fasten onto the center strap of a thong-style harness to hold a dildo or butt plug inside the wearer of a strap-on dildo. Either partner can tuck any of a dozen small vibrators into a harness or pouch for clitoral stimulation during dildo play. You can also wear a corset harness to hold up your stockings while you strap it on. Introducing Sex Toys into Partner Play The same communication skills you use to negotiate any type of sex will help you introduce your partner to your favorite sex toys. (See “Sex Talk Guidelines” in chapter 7, Communication and Finding Sex Partners.) • Tell your partner your sex toy fantasies. She may have no idea what you want to do with that vibrating cock ring. • Bring up the subject in a relaxed setting. • Speak in positives. She may jump to the conclusion that if you want to bring your vibrator to bed you must find her techniques inadequate.Tell her what you like about her sexual style and what you like about sex toys. • Trust your senses. Are you concerned that sex toys are contrived or unnatural? One woman wrote, “I used to believe that ‘real’ lesbians only had sex in a ‘natural’ way—hands, mouth, tongue, fist.” The blood pulsing through your clitoris, the contractions of your vaginal and anal muscles, the rush of pleasure through your genitals—all are deliciously “natural.” So trust your body, not your judgments. • Demonstrate on yourself. Show your partner exactly what you like to do with your favorite sex toy. (See “Masturbating with a Partner” in chapter 6, Masturbation.) • Be playful. We call them toys because they’re meant to be fun. “My lover and I keep our lubes chilly in the fridge and then shock each other by dripping the cold lubricant on each other’s steamy vaginas,” wrote one woman. • Go shopping together. Perhaps your partner isn’t turned on by the toys you’ve got at home. You may be surprised by what catches her eye.

• From The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones (2006)

  Next came garlic prawns heaped with garlic stuffing and quick roasted; again, the sweet flavor of the prawns (only a few minutes ago skittering at the bottom of a fish tank) shone through, somehow beating the garlic into gentle submission. Scallops with roe, still in their shells, arrived glazed in black-bean sauce, by which time I was eating with my hands and slurping every clinging streak or drop. A steamed spotted grouper arrived—on the bone, of course. The highly prized one-and-a-half-pound fish costs about a hundred bucks a pop. I tunneled directly into a cheek, which pleased Seetoh no end. We ate frogs in "chicken essence" and a single stingray steamed with scallion, which inspired my mentor to exclaim "Shiok!" and "Steam!" meaning, I gather, "fucking goodl" in Singlish. (He explained the local dialect as "think in Chinese, speak in English" before commenting on the next course, Sin Huat's famous crab bee hoon: "Good-ah! Hot Hot!") The massive Sri Lankan hard-shell she-crab had been hacked into hunks of roe-studded goodness, crisped in hot oil, and simmered with a magical mystery sauce of home-brewed soy and stock and tossed with rice noodles, chilies, and garlic. "You eat the noodles first," Seetoh advised, his eyes getting a glazed, faraway look. By now the table was a wrecking yard of prawn shells, emptied scallops, frog femurs, fish bones, and empty Tiger bottles. Blissed out on food, beer, and what had now become a warm and welcoming environment, I became suddenly nonconversational as I sucked, slurped, and dug at my crab. "Seetoh, old buddy," I slurred, absolutely sincere, "I have eaten all over this earth. I've eaten fish most have only dreamed of. I come from a long line of French oyster fishermen. I've been to Tsukiji market in Tokyo. I've eaten two-hundred-dollar-a-pound otoro tuna off the still-quivering fish. I've had the full press treatment at Le Bernardin for Chrissakes! But this, this is the best seafood meal I've ever had!" Seetoh smiled, sucked a little crab fat out of a shell, and looked up at me indulgently. "Why you wanna talk when there's good food-ah?" A TASTE OF FICTION A CHEF'S CHRISTMAS It was about a week before Christmas and all through the restaurant, not an employee was stirring, not even the usually hyperactive busboy, Mahmoud, who sat bolt-upright at the end of an empty banquette, staring into space. The decorations (six hundred forty-nine dollars worth, Marvin recalled with dismay) had been hung in the foyer and front picture window with care (five hundred dollars to some overpaid drapery queen) in the hopes that if not Santa, then at least a few walk-in customers would materialize.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  That’s not what I’m saying, Ash sputtered. I just—just, you’ve told me what your pattern was with him. How you felt like you were always taking care, like no one else would do it if you didn’t. What I really want is for you to say nothing negative to me about Brandon, I said. Ever. I can’t stand it. When I arrived in Toronto, I saw that Ash had sent a long text: You are doing so much. You’ve been flying back and forth across the country over the last month and have managed to remain a steadfast, attentive mother. You’ve survived a case of hives. You’ve managed a restaurant from afar. You are curious and caring, committed to relationship and friendship. I want you to know that I admire you. Thank you for sharing yourself with me in all of it. I see you. I’m here. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] “When you look at yourself in the mirror,” writes author Ursula K. Le Guin, “I hope you see yourself. Not one of the myths.”39 I was trying. On a walk in our heavy coats, a friend commented: You seemed to disappear when you were dating Nora, and you haven’t with Ash. That seems like a good thing. I could feel it too. It’s weird, I said to my friend. I never fell in love with a man because he was a man, you know? I mean, I wasn’t falling in love with a penis. I loved his body because it was his. And I don’t think I was drawn to Nora because she was a woman, exactly. I don’t think I want a woman because she is a woman. Ash is not a woman in the same way I am, but they’re also not a man. And I like that so much. That they’re making their own form of person—like, this person who is themself. My friend nodded, said: I’m so happy for you. I couldn’t tell if she understood. But I was happy too. 28“I eliminated gender, to find out what was left.” This was how Le Guin explained her creation of an androgynous race of humans, the Gethenians, in her novel The Left Hand of Darkness. “Whatever was left would be, presumably, simply human.”40 I liked that so much. Of course: under gender we find the bare thing, the person themself. Of course. But what about sexual orientation? I wanted to add. What do we find under that? What is left if we eliminate orientation—or if it changes willy-nilly? Is there anything solid to me at all, anything I can count on? I’d tried to interrogate myself—had parked myself under fluorescent lights in the cinderblock room of my history, went after myself like Vincent D’Onofrio on Law & Order. I wanted a voiceover, some deep baritone: What do we make of our unreliable narrator? She would have swapped anything, even her sanity, to make sense.

• From Little Women (1868)

  But her faith in the good spot which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing little ragamuffin gave her patience, skill, and in time success, for no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bhaer shining on him as benevolently as the sun, and Mother Bhaer forgiving him seventy times seven. Very precious to Jo was the friendship of the lads, their penitent sniffs and whispers after wrongdoing, their droll or touching little confidences, their pleasant enthusiasms, hopes, and plans, even their misfortunes, for they only endeared them to her all the more. There were slow boys and bashful boys, feeble boys and riotous boys, boys that lisped and boys that stuttered, one or two lame ones, and a merry little quadroon, who could not be taken in elsewhere, but who was welcome to the 'Bhaer-garten', though some people predicted that his admission would ruin the school. Yes, Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work, much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily and found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world, for now she told no stories except to her flock of enthusiastic believers and admirers. As the years went on, two little lads of her own came to increase her happiness—Rob, named for Grandpa, and Teddy, a happy-go-lucky baby, who seemed to have inherited his papa's sunshiny temper as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts, but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough nurses loved and served them well. There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes and Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls. Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there. Everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down. Everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such a jolly set to enjoy it, and everyone gave themselves up to the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things as care or sorrow in the world. Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella to Mr.

• From The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones (2006)

  "You are absolutely right," he said, hurrying to agree. "This is something truly remarkable. I've eaten around a bit too, you know. We have some of the best, the very best chefs in the world at my casinos—but this —this is something else, isn't it?" Schutz downed another glass of wine and looked across at the two girls golden in the flower of their youth, imagining they'd taste of strawberry ice cream. But how could anything taste better than this? He felt, in a rush of heat that seemed to rise from his toes to the crown of his overly coiffed head, elated, near giddy with delight. He'd have to pay more attention to what he ate in the future. He'd clearly been missing something. Marvin lingered over his third cup of coffee and pretended to listen to his wife. He hoped, of course, that Schutz would enjoy himself. That he'd tell his friends. Maybe book a Christmas party or two at Saint Germain, provide a little last-minute cash flow to keep the doors open a few more days or weeks. But who was he kidding? The prick could bail out this business with what he spends on carpet cleaning each week. But why would he? Chet, the bartender, had more measured hopes for the evening. He wished for nothing beyond a very fat tip, which the floor would carve up and of which he'd get one fifth. Signs were favorable in this department. One rich guy, bodyguard, and two good-looking women usually translated into a heavy tip meant to impress the broads as much as anything else. Chet calculated in his head the likely total, what with all the wine and the multiple courses and the likelihood of port or cognac to follow. He was thinking big. A few rounds of Louis Treize, now that would be nice. In the kitchen, Paul, Kevin, Michelle, and the rest hoped for nothing beyond what they had right now, the pure pleasure of seeing Rob Holland cook again. He was in the zone now, oblivious to the outside world, cooking and cutting and arranging and moving about in some wonderful culinary fugue state, cooking—as all the best cooks do—solely for himself now, climbing the mountain for what might well be one last, best time. It was okay now, thought Michelle, knowing that Paul was thinking the same thing. All would be okay if they closed the doors to Saint Germain forever after this evening. They had seen Rob Holland at his very best. They could always tell this story and it would all be true. That they were there the night Rob Holland kicked ass like no one else they'd ever seen; that he'd shown them what a cook could be. As it turned out, they needn't have worried. Roland Schutz liked to own the things he admired. Even more, he liked to own the things other people admired.

• From The Ice Storm (1994)

  We can observe these changes in everyone.” Elena didn’t see how this transactional model was going to work for her. Though she was a reader of personal-growth books. She had read Jonathan Livingston Seagull and The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge and The Primal Scream by Arthur Janov and I’m Okay —You’re Okay and Games People Play by Eric Berne and Notes to Myself by Hugh Prather and The Gestalt Approach and Eyewitness Therapy by Fritz Perls and Be Here Now by Ram Dass and Soul on Ice by Eldridge Cleaver and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden and The Divided Self and Human Sexual Response and Island by Aldous Huxley and The Tibetan Book of the Dead and The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings . She read this stuff, but it didn’t help her at parties. And the party itself was of two minds, one mind in which the selection of house keys was a worthy and modern preoccupation, and one mind in which the whole game was a sham. Some people felt both ways, and some shifted back and forth between these two belief systems . Uncomfortable as she was, how was Elena to account for the change that had overcome her? How was Elena to account for the joy that seized her not long after her arrival at the party? New Canaan society crept around trying to make decisions about the keys, about the repercussions of its participation. The conversations became vague, Elena noticed, as husbands and wives tried to avoid one another. They slunk from the bar to their conversations with eyes downcast, as Elena herself was avoiding Benjamin. Still, she found herself suddenly elated at the party; there was no other way to put it. She felt the loosening of the constraints that had bound her since she had come of age, and she realized she would play. She would select a key. She would clutch it to her, permit it to dangle around her neck, between her small, subdued breasts. She would play. This decision was a function of her Parent, her Child, or her Adult. A function of one or more of the three. The Parent, of course, was a huge collection of recordings in the brain of “unquestioned or imposed external events perceived by a person in his or her early years,” and the Child was the recorded responses to this first collection of “tapes.” Adult data, in the meantime, accumulated “as a result of the child’s ability to find out for himself what is different about life from the ‘taught concept’ of life in his Parent and the ‘felt concept’ in his Child.” The results of the battles that took place in these three phenomenological realities were the Four Life Positions: I’m Not Okay—You’re Okay, I’m Not Okay—You’re Not Okay, I’m Okay—You’re Not Okay, and the paradisaical I’m Okay—You’re Okay. One of these four had its hooks in Elena.

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

  For many women, cybersex is their first experience with actually having public sex—rather than viewing it. You can enter an unmoderated chatroom, “listen” in until you feel comfortable, and then jump into the fray. Cybersex offers a safe introduction to anonymous sex, since you can “pick up” another woman, “go private” by creating a private chatroom for your encounter, and have cybersex—without risk of STDs or unwanted entanglements. What about live sex? Where can a lesbian or bisexual woman go to enjoy live sexual performances? Some women go to strip clubs. You can go in a group, cheer on the erotic dancers, and even pay for a lap dance. Play PartiesI had the most intense orgasm of my life while being caressed, kissed, and penetrated by two women. This was just about the best sex I have ever experienced! A play party is a social gathering where people engage in sex. There are all types of play parties—some are for women only and others are pansexual, welcoming all genders, all sexual styles, and all sexual orientations. Some parties are small, private affairs—a lesbian invites three friends over for a romp in her bed. Others are large public events, hosting as many as 200 women who have learned of the event from a flyer or ad. Most play parties are semipublic. The host draws up an invitation list, encouraging guests to bring their friends, who are then added to the list for future events. Most party hosts charge a fee to cover space rental, safer-sex supplies, food, and other expenses. Parties, of course, come in all flavors, with styles as individual as their hosts. From sensual affairs with hot tubs and scrumptious buffets to dungeon parties where women engage in elaborately negotiated BDSM scenes, you’ll find play parties to suit a wide range of tastes. Some parties begin with games and ice-breakers; others feature rituals intended to create a particular mood. What does a play party look like? Typically, you’ll find a social area with refreshments, an area to change out of street clothes and into fetish wear, and a play area. Some party spaces even have showers. You may find an impressive array of dungeon equipment, including St. Andrew’s crosses, racks, cages, and slings. You may even find a gynecologist’s examination table. Or, you may find a room lined with futons or foam mattresses. You’ll see women naked, or wearing all manner of fetish gear, including corsets, G-strings, dildos and harnesses, chaps, and stiletto heels. You’ll find women watching others having sex, or chatting in small groups, as at any other party. You may see couples in discreet corners, lost in deep kisses; a group of women in a “puppy pile” of jumbled limbs and torsos; or a daisy chain of women engaging in oral sex. You may see women getting fisted in slings. You’ll certainly get to see and hear many women’s orgasms. Twelve Reasons to Go to a Sex Party

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

  One woman reported that she was getting a massage, not being touched in her genital area, and unaware of any sexual arousal, when she suddenly found herself coming. Dee reports finding her body shaken by an orgasm as she sat on a rock by a river watching her lover walk along the shore. Apparently, deep feelings of love or joy or enthusiasm can unexpectedly give rise to exactly the same physiological response as physical stimulation, and can be experienced as an ecstatic energy release. A number of women report that they can come from imagining sex, without any external stimulus, which is a little different from an orgasm that comes unexpectedly out of thin air. On occasion I’ve been able to come just from visualizing sensual intercourse, without anyone touching me, or me touching myself. I have had an orgasm from a purely mental fantasy about someone, without touching myself or having anyone touch me. When I’ve had the experience of orgasm without any stimulation, it was like a flashback, a brief shiver all over, and a tingle to my clit. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I could be lying down, driving a car, relaxing, whatever. Sometimes the only external stimulus that’s necessary is another person’s voice. I’ve rarely had an orgasm without any stimulation at all but it has happened when I’ve been on the phone to my lover. I can have a vaginal orgasm very easily, just from being told to come, if I’ve been having a lot of sex over a number of days. The “telling” described above can be purely verbal; her lover might be across the room at the time. One woman said that she could come simply from seeing her lover make suggestive finger movements. An emotional component—a strong current of love between partners—may be present in some of these cases, but it certainly isn’t necessary for all women who experience this kind of orgasm. It may occur in part because the woman is in a state of sexual excitement already. Many women find it possible to remain in a highly aroused state for a long time without experiencing discomfort. I can go through my day feeling constantly aroused. I’ll be walking down the street and the feeling deep down in my groin gets more and more intense, just from the motion of walking, especially if I’m wearing jeans, and I find myself coming. I have to stop and lean against a wall.

• From Working Girl: On Selling Art and Selling Sex (2023)

  I continued planning the performance. I booked the penthouse suite at the Bowery Hotel, paying the $3,000 plus tax out of pocket when my fledgling gallery couldn’t afford the cost. I hired another friend to perform with me; she braided my hair at the beginning, before I read a piece on labor, extortion, failure, and revenge, and before my blood was drawn. She is a dancer, and her mother was visiting, and the two of them arrived together to the suite hours early to rehearse and helped me decide how to move the furniture around. Her mom sipped a Manhattan and wore her hair down at the request of her daughter. I didn’t know either of them well but felt close and comfortable because the only other time I’d spent with them both together was my dancer friend’s birthday camping trip, nearly a year earlier. She had maybe twenty friends on an island in the middle of the Hudson River, including her mom, whom she’d set up in an extra-large tent with a mattress inside. We tied floating tubes to trees on the island, letting them extend thirty, fifty yards out into the river, floating in the beating August sun. My boyfriend and I had sweaty sex in our tent and wolfed down the bread and hot-smoked salmon we’d brought as a snack, getting fish oil on the tent’s nylon. I unilaterally hated camping before the trip; afterward, I decided I liked it, but only under particular and magical circumstances. My point is, I knew everyone from pockets-out-of-Empire-time. I knew everyone from ours times—from giving out stolen medical supplies to people who need them on the street; from taking care of each other when our heads were sick; from being in love; from getting sunburned in freshwater while drinking beer from a sweaty can; from bringing different generations of people into the same party; from people saying yes to participating in a peculiar and at times unformed vision, allowing it to unfold in its own way, in its own time. And I could pay everyone well; and I could pay for the space; and I could pay for the photographer I hired to stay in his own suite in the same hotel, because it was his birthday in the morning; and I could have the martinis and wine I wanted as the opening party’s drinks, and pay the bartender, and throw money at the last-minute problems that arose throughout the day, including a hotel staff member hushing us but relenting when we tipped generously, allowing us to midnight. I could pay for all of this because I was fucking for my money, and I had time to develop all of this because I was fucking for my money, and I met a lot of these people, and formed collaborative and strange relationships with them, because I was fucking for my money.

• From American Swing (2008)

  I JUST HEARD ON THE RADIO THAT THE KING OF SWING IS HOME FROM PRISON." Man: I JUST WANT TO SAY NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT I AM MORE THAN PROUD TO PRESENT FOR THE FIRST TIME BACK HERE IN 32 MONTHS, THE MAN RESPONSIBLE FOR CREATING PLATO'S RETREAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE OWNER, THE CREATOR OF PLATO'S RETREAT, THE KING OF SWING, MR. LARRY LEVENSON. COME RIGHT OUT, GANG. Man #2: OKAY, LARRY LEVENSON, SKINNIER, HIS DICK IS BIGGER. HERE HE IS, LARRY, BACK FROM 32 MONTHS OF HOMOSEXUALITY. WHAT'S IT LIKE TO BE HERE AT THE PLACE, THE DREAM YOU CREATED? YOU KNOW, THE PERSON WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER YOU. - YOU'RE SUCH A SLOB. - WE'RE HERE WITH HIS LOVELY MOTHER RENEE. RENEE, HOW DO YOU FEEL THAT YOUR SON BROKE OUT OF PRISON AND IS HERE AT PLATO'S TODAY? I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM YOU, AL. I'M NOT THE LEAST BIT SURPRISED. IT'S NOT TRUE YOU CALLED THE PAROLE BOARD AND SAID, "KEEP THE BASTARD"? NO, YOU DID THAT, HONEY. YOU WERE A LITTLE MIXED UP. ♪ AND YOU TRY TO SHOW ♪ YOUR LOVE FOR ME. Larry: I'M THRILLED TO NO END RIGHT NOW AS I LOOK AROUND AND SEE YOU FRIENDLY FACES, FACES OF OLD FRIENDS AND SOON-TO-BE NEW FRIENDS. TO YOU MEMBERS THAT FREQUENT PLATO'S, OUR CLUB IS MUCH MORE THAN A SEXUAL HAVEN. WE ARE THE CLOSEST THING TO A FAMILY HERE. I'M GONNA COME BACK AND I'M GONNA MAKE THIS CLUB BETTER THAN EVER, AND WE'RE GONNA HAVE MORE FUN THAN EVER AND IT'S JUST GONNA BE BEAUTIFUL. LARRY, WE WELCOME YOU BACK AND CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING THE 32-MONTH ALLENWOOD DIET. EVERYTHING HITS A PEAK, SO THERE WAS A PEAK FOR SEXUALITY. THERE WAS A PEAK FOR DISCO. ♪ KARMA KARMA KARMA KARMA KARMA CHAMELEON... ♪ THE CLUB WAS IN A DECLINE AND SO WAS LARRY. WERE WE DISTRESSED ABOUT IT? YES. COME DOWN AND FULFILL YOUR MOST FANTASTIC FANTASIES AND STIMULATE YOUR WILDEST DREAMS. ♪ OH YES, IT'S LADIES' NIGHT ♪ ♪ AND THE FEELING'S RIGHT... ♪ Man: IS IT GOING TO BE LADIES' NIGHT EVERY MONDAY, DO YOU KNOW? LADIES' NIGHT, 6:00-9:00; THEN 9:00 THE MEN COME IN. Vera: THEY WOULD HAVE AT PLATO'S SINGLES NIGHTS TO KIND OF INTRODUCE PEOPLE WHO NEVER SWUNG BEFORE. ♪ OH YES, IT'S LADIES' NIGHT ♪ ♪ OH, WHAT A NIGHT, OH, WHAT A NIGHT... ♪ Vera: THERE'D BE STRIPPER AFTER STRIPPER AND THE WOMEN ARE GETTING WILDER AND WILDER. THEN 9:00, OR A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, THE MEN-- THE SINGLE MEN WOULD BE ALLOWED IN. AND THESE GUYS WERE HORNY FUCKS. THEN WHAT THEY'D DO THOUGH, THEY'D HAVE TO HAVE A LOT MORE GIRLS THAT WOULD BE LIKE GIRLS THAT WOULD BE HIRED. Hanson: BUT YOU COULDN'T NECESSARILY SEPARATE THE PROSTITUTES FROM THE WIVES BECAUSE THE WIVES WERE KIND OF DOING THEMSELVES UP LIKE PROSTITUTES OFTEN. THERE WAS COKE EVERYWHERE.