A Silent Challenge

Yesterday, I read the combined blogposts written by Cody Kennedy and Timmy Ashton—and they blew me away.

And when I leaned back and tried to get my bearings again, I knew, deep inside, that I had to take Timmy up on his challenge to not speak for a whole day. At all. Just use pen and paper, body language, and/or sounds, but no words.

You see, they both wrote about not talking. Not having speech as a tool. See Cody’s words here, and Timmy’s words here—more eloquent guys are difficult to find, which makes it all the more amazing to try to step into their shoes, if just for one day.

Now, I know full well that I can never understand what it is like to not be able to speak to the people who surround me. To only be able to write or sign (to those who understand sign language). I will never be able to step into those shoes, because, let’s face it: when I need to talk I can just. Talk.

So what happened with this challenge? 
After eighteen hours of this silence I am exhausted.
Discouraged.
Sad.
And so very appreciative of what Cody and Timmy and lots of other people go through every day.
I still have six hours to go, and I can’t wait to be done. I am sad, and feel insecure, and I just want to go to my bed and pull my blankets up around my nose and wait for tomorrow.
And yet. Everyone I met was nice, more or less. Some were a bit obnoxious, like the woman who started to speak LOUDER at me, when she read my note saying that I didn’t speak. As if that was any part of the problem.

Let me take you by the hand, and lead you through my day. 
It started with me writing good morning to mr anna and then scribbling Have a good day, see you later. It felt completely empty. Mr anna is a good sport, so I got a kiss and a smile, and then I was on my own.
 I am a technical translator, and I work from my home office, but I had to divert four business phonecalls to texting Skype chats instead of speaking with my clients directly, and three were okay with it, the fourth said he had no time for bullshit, and hung up. Well, goodbye, buddy, I don’t want to work for you anymore, anyhow.

Procrastination. Why, yes.
Then I realized that I was procrastinating, trying to find things to do in the office, to avoid going out and interacting with people. And this was the first sign that something was different, indeed. I have never hesitated to go out and seek contact before.

“I do not speak” 

I got in my car, and drove to a mall nearby, I was thinking McDonalds, some fries and a coke. I can honestly say that I have never been that nervous waiting to order anywhere before. Lunch hour rush, and there I was, standing in line with my note pad and pen.

My first scribble was “I do not speak”. 

I showed the young woman this, and she smiled, and said “Sure thing! Hello!” That seriously made me tear up a little bit, she was so nice. Casual.

“PREGO: You’re welcome”

Then I showed her my note for the food I wanted, ending my order with, “Please.” She turned on her heel, took off and got my stuff together, told me how much it was, gave me my money back, and then asked for my note pad.

She wrote “You’re welcome” at the bottom of my order.

I smiled so wide I thought my face was going to crack in two. After finishing my snack, I waved at her, and got a smile back, even though she was very busy.



But that was a false start
to my challenge. The next stop wasn’t going to be that much fun. At the cosmetics shop (OMG, right? I never go into those) the girl got very nervous when I showed her my note that I don’t speak. It made her speak louder at me, as if that was my problem, that I didn't hear well. At first, she wanted to help me, and then she just ended up ignoring me. At the checkout she didn’t make any eye contact at all, filled my small bag up with samples without any explanation, like she wanted to give me all the stuff if I would only get out of her store.

It was deeply unsettling.


Fashion store and Anna—not a good mix
I took a deep breath before entering a fashion store next. Two clerks circled around me at once, all smiles. I gesticulated, to let them know them I just wanted to look around, and then showed them my note saying that I don’t speak. The both dropped off like I was contagious.
Not even a smile.
No small talk.
No, “Look around and let us know if you need any help.”
No nothing.
Not even a wave in response to mine when I exited the shop. They ignored me completely.

It made me really, really angry. Needless to say, I won’t be going back to that store.

“A tepid cappuccino, please.”

Time for coffee
Thinking I might be ready for a coffee at that point, I headed over to the corner bar. Same procedure, I showed her that I don’t speak, and then scribbled “A tepid cappuccino, please.”
I got it, and together with the change she gave me an Italian “corno,” a stupid, little, red plastic horn, which supposedly brings luck to the superstitious. I guess she really thought I needed it.

My cappuccino was steaming hot, and I burned my palate. Made me very upset.




I was changing
I was just done with the mall. I noticed myself changing, with every minute of this Not-Speaking-thing. I noticed I stopped making eye contact, to avoid having to answer a potential question. Or, not answer it, as it were.
I became shy, avoiding, wanting to go home.
Not me at all. Scary thing is, it took only about an hour to get me to this point.

At the stables
So I pushed myself to go to my stables, to friends, and my sweet horse, Moro. The one close friend I have there already knew that I was going to do this challenge, so that felt good, like I’d have an ally there.
Of course, shit always happens, it blows up in your face, because she wasn’t there, and the people who were there, are the ones I don’t much like to interact with even on a good day. So when they saw my note, there was endless riling and giggles, and one of the older guys (of course, one of the men) said to the others, “Well, that was to be expected, stupid foreigner that she is. What an idiotic thing to do, stop talking just for fun.”

I was fuming. But nothing I could say (even had I used my voice) would have made any difference what so ever with those guys, so I took off, out into the paddoks to see Moro. He saw me from far away, and came running. I think maybe I cried a little bit in relief. There are many emotions hidden in the manes of horses, safely guarded.
We took a walk together where he could get a bite of fresh, green grass, and I could feel connected again.
Thank DOG for horses.

After an hour with Moro, I was feeling more like myself again, because this is one soul who never expects words from me, who never wants my voice, who just is happy to be by my side. It is healing to be with him. As I drove away from the stables, I thought about my two cats waiting for me to come home, and again, thank DOG for cats.

Six hours left
Now I’m waiting for mr anna to get home in a couple of hours, and a silent dinner and evening. I know he has an online game lined up tonight, so me, I’m probably going to be chatting with YOU guys!

So thankful for you all. So thankful for my voice, because this has been one of my worst days in a long time.

I cannot even begin to say how much I admire you two, Cody and Timmy, for living this, for surviving this, day in and day out. And I am more than ever determined to be the voice of those who have none.

It is also my responsibility to make sure all voices are heard.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

How about you? Are you ready for a challenge like this? 

Book Review - Omorphi, by C. Kennedy

High school senior Michael Sattler leads a charmed life. He’s a star athlete, has great friends, and parents who love him just the way he is. What’s missing from his life is a boyfriend. That’s a problem because he’s out only to his parents and best friend. When Michael accidentally bumps into Christy Castle at school, his life changes in ways he never imagined. Christy is Michael’s dream guy: smart, pretty, and sexy. But nothing could have prepared Michael for what being Christy's boyfriend would entail. Christy needs to heal after years of abuse and knows he needs help to do it. After the death of his notorious father, he leaves his native Greece and settles in upstate New York. Alone, afraid, and left without a voice, Christy hides the myriad scars of his abuse. He desperately wants to be loved and when he meets Michael, he dares to hope that day has arrived. When one of Michael’s team-mates becomes an enemy and an abuser from Christy’s past seeks to return him to a life of slavery, only Michael and Christy's combined strength and unwavering determination can save them from the violence that threatens to destroy their future together.

As you know, I don't write recaps of the story (read the blurb), nor do I fill my reviews with spoilers. This is my experience of the story. My connection to it.

AND WHAT A STORY IT IS.

Christy. You had me, hook, line, and sinker, already when you were sitting up on the bleachers, watching Michael from afar. His #1 Fan.

How somebody can take this subject matter and gently turn it into something so brilliant and elegant, is beyond me. Child abuse, sexual child abuse, in a story that has me cry like a baby and laugh like few books before, without ever even potentially falling into the horrifying trap of exploiting the abuse for the reader's "pleasure"?

Simply amazing.

Even the (quite tame, young and loving) sex scenes are never graphic nor exploiting. All power is, thanks to Michael, left in Christy's hands, for him to rediscover sexuality, love and discover Mike.

There is the one scene that just killed me dead, when Christy says he is glad that at least Michael is a virgin, and Michael responds:

"You are too. You have never been touched by someone who loved you."

There is so much in this book that just totally rocked. Or had me sitting in the corner, rocking.

The only parts that grated on my sense of correct storytelling were about the slacker security, and while I understand that it was to make the story more interesting, seriously, it just managed to annoy me, and took half a star off my rating.
Nuff said.

One of the most charming characters was to be found on the sidelines: young Lisa. She was a force to be reckoned with, and by god I loved that. More and more intelligent women-side-characters are appearing also in m/m books these days, and I applaud it.

There were people from different continents and several colors in this story, and they all had their own voice. That is quite unusual, so extra kudos for that. (I have no idea if the Greek written in the book was correct, but the Italian could have benefited from a helping hand from a native speaker).

What is great with a story like this is that this was an MC I could really root for. Every step Christy took in the right direction was a screaming victory and I adored him so much for his strength. Even when he froze and walked in the wrong direction. To eventually bolt like a rabbit. God, I screamed for him, rooting so hard.

There is so much understanding about abuse and power play in this story that I am left shattered at the end. But mended, somehow, by the fine example of NEVER GIVING UP ON YOUR FRIENDS.

You stand up for your friends. Every. Single. Time. 

And the cover of the book? That is seriously such a perfect image of Christy. I kept closing the book, and looking at the cover for minutes on end.

Beautiful.

Omorphi.

Indeed.

***

I received a free ARC from the publisher, Harmony Ink/Dreamspinner Press. A positive review was not promised in return.

Disclaimer: Since reading and reviewing this book the first time in September 2013, I have become friends with the author, who has gifted me with a paperback copy. It is simply beautiful.

On my list of Top-Ten Reads of 2013


Find and buy this book at Harmony Ink/Dreamspinner Press

Book Review – Freeing Stella, by Zoe Lynne

Stella Marshall feels invisible to everyone but her sister Jessica and best friend Jenna. Thanks to their Friday night LGBTQ youth group meetings, she can be true to herself and cast aside the boy she was born as, Steven. The rest of the time, she locks herself away, because if her super conservative, Christian parents ever found out…. When her little sister admits to liking a girl as more than a friend, it becomes ten times harder for Stella to keep up the charade. She wants to stand by Jess and take some of the heat away, and that means coming out of the closet—even if it costs Stella her family and the girl of her dreams, Lillian Nelson. Unfortunately, it’s too frightening to give up the security of hiding behind Steven. But Stella knows she has to be brave, for herself and her sister.

An absolutely lovely and short story (around 100 pages) about coming out a girl in a boy’s body. About family, siblings, parents, and close friends.

True to my usual form, I have jumped feet first into a series at #2, but it was totally standalone, and I will run and buy book #1 as soon as possible.

To free the person stuck inside the wrong body must be devilishly difficult. This story takes a beautiful look at how Steven struggles to become Stella, and how she manages to stay true to herself.

I am not a religious person, but I loved how there was also talk about how there are churches that accept you as you are, churches that don’t condemn you before even knowing you. Look for them! Search them out, if you need them!

This is a great book for young people, adolescents, who are looking for answers, and maybe finding that they are not so strange as they feel inside. Adolescence is a difficult moment at the best of times, and feeling lonely is a big part of that. Here, a young person can see how it is to be unique, not lonely.

There is no sex, only two sweet kisses, so if you are looking for something to put into the hands of your young ones, (perhaps 12-18?), you can relax. There is no talk of bits and pieces either, quite unusual for a transgender book. Very refreshing.

I found the story absolutely charming, with a little moment of angst, and then full of love and understanding—even though there, at first, was quite an upheaval within the family.

I adored the best friend’s mother, who told Stella there would always be room for her in her home, if needed. That is how you act as an adult, that is how you take responsibility for all our children, not just the ones that are straight and your own. Kudos for showing a real human being.

Warmly recommended. Will look for more books from this author, who says in the afterword that she wants to write stories for young people for whom very few stories exist.

I approve with all my heart.

Favorite sentence:

“I love you, I don’t understand you, but I love you.”


***

I was given a free copy of this book by the publisher, Harmony Ink Press, and a positive review wasn’t promised in return.



Find this book at: Harmony Ink/Dreamspinner Press

Book Review - Tell Me It's Real, by TJ Klune

Do you believe in love at first sight? Paul Auster doesn't. Paul doesn't believe in much at all. He’s thirty, slightly overweight, and his best features are his acerbic wit and the color commentary he provides as life passes him by. His closest friends are a two-legged dog named Wheels and a quasibipolar drag queen named Helena Handbasket. He works a dead-end job in a soul-sucking cubicle, and if his grandmother's homophobic parrot insults him one more time, Paul is going to wring its stupid neck. Enter Vince Taylor. Vince is everything Paul isn’t: sexy, confident, and dumber than the proverbial box of rocks. And for some reason, Vince pursues Paul relentlessly. Vince must be messing with him, because there is no way Vince could want someone like Paul. But when Paul hits Vince with his car—in a completely unintentional if-he-died-it'd-only-be-manslaughter kind of way—he's forced to see Vince in a whole new light. The only thing stopping Paul from believing in Vince is himself—and that is one obstacle Paul can’t quite seem to overcome. But when tragedy strikes Vince's family, Paul must put aside any notions he has about himself and stand next to the man who thinks he's perfect the way he is.

This was a ride and a half.
This was a crackfic on meth, smoking pot, while chewing coca leaves. So THERE went the spelling, right out the window. And look, THERE went the politically correct, straight out the other window, without even opening it first. (The crash you just heard was the glass shattering, and falling to the ground several stories down, on all kinds of people who are not gay). And booom THERE went half of your fans, the female ones who can't handle that many gay men have issues with vaginas. LOL. (Yeah, there could have been a few less jokes and less dumping shit on the vagina, but hey, it takes a true connoisseur to appreciate the art of the female fancy parts). (No, knowing Helena Handbasket is not enough). And KABOOOM there went a bunch of people who don't like slurs of any kind.

I don't mind, when it's done this way. I love it when everything gets put upside down and inside out, because THAT is where you notice it. Suddenly it's RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. So you notice.

About bloody time, if you ask me. (But I still love my vag, so stop cussing it, will ya?)

This book was pure crazy. It could most certainly have taken three more tours through the editing process, as both verbs and words were in the wrong tense and just plain wrong. Prepositions up the creek without a paddle. And usually that grates on my soul. Usually, I hate it.

BUT HEY! I just laughed my ass off, I laughed and laughed, and then I laughed some more. In two separate instances I even woke up Mr Lund from my guffaws.

So, even if the language wasn't up to Mr Klune's usual standards, I feel this book was written in one looooong sitting, maybe while he was writing some really deep and hurtful stuff in another book? (Into this River I Drown, comes to mind—that must have been a dark and heavy book to write, and this one would have cheered him up a lot).

What saves the day here is how it all gets so fucking out of hand it borders on the comically tragic. Or the tragically comic. There is one instance where a serious discussion about in how many ways Paul could possibly destroy their relationship, and ends up, after mere minutes, to be all about the superhero costume that Sandy should be wearing. Something just goes SPACE-BOINK-OIK in my head.

Crazy book is crazy. Now you will either love this book or you will hate it. There simply is no in-between.

You all know where I stand. I am firmly in the corner with the two-legged, squeaky-wheels dog named Wheels and the homophobic, slurring parrot named Johnny Depp. We are having a ball over here.

So, Mr Klune, please. Continue. We are all ears, over here. Feed us more words.
Pretty please.


***

I was NOT asked to read this book by anyone, I paid for it with my own money.

Find this book at: Dreamspinner Press 

Book Review - Slam! by JL Merrow

Limericks, lies, and puppy-dog eyes...

Jude Biggerstaff is all the way out and loving it - mostly. The Anglo-Japanese university graduate is a carnivore working in a vegan cafe, an amateur poet with only one man in his life. His dog, Bubbles. Then there's "Karate Crumpet", a man who regularly runs past the cafe with a martial arts class. Jude can only yearn from afar, until the object of his affection rescues him from muggers. And he learns that not only does this calm, competent hunk of muscle have a name - David - but that he s gay. Jude should have known the universe wouldn't simply let love fall into place. First, David has only one foot out of the closet. Then there's Jude's mother, who lies about her age to the point Jude could be mistaken for jailbait. With a maze of stories to keep straight, a potential stepfather in the picture, ex-boyfriends who keep spoiling his dates with David, and a friend with a dangerous secret, Jude is beginning to wonder if his and David's lives will ever start to rhyme. Warnings: Contains a tangled web of little white lies, a smorgasbord of cheesy limericks, a violin called Vanessa, some boots that mean business, and the most adorable little dog ever. Poetry, it's not...

Where to begin? Probably with the fact that this story was truly cathartic. It has been a long, long time since I laughed this hard. Every single sentence fucked with at least one not very politically correct theme, often more than one, and every time cracking me up so bad I had to look up from my book and giggling go: “Wow! Well, fuuuuuck!”

That, my friends, is how I know it's a good book for me.

Jude, our MC, is Anglo-Japanese, and it is a big part of him, much like your own belonging somewhere is a part of your identity make-up. Jude owns his British heritage, and is absolutely hilarious about his Japanese one. Of course, most of that heritage consisted of a Japanese father who upped and left his mother when she was expecting Jude, so he is completely lacking in actual knowledge about the Japanese culture.

Jude is a bundle of energy. Had he been American, I believe he would have been put on a strict régime of Adderall, many pills every day, but in Europe we are perhaps a bit less prone to diagnose the spectrum? Or at least, less prone to medicating? He is beautiful, but scatterbrained, and has absolutely no filter at all. He is, as many young men and women, very focused on sex: having it, wanting it, thinking about it. He is a hummingbird on meth, some days, but poetic and full of creative verve. He quite charmed my pants off with his crazy limericks and wild poetry, and I noticed myself falling into writing one or two limericks of my own during the read. (No. I won’t).

This author has a way of writing Jude’s silly side that just has me in stitches. I love him after having read only 10 pages, he is so sweet and crazy and cool and creative and silly. I adore silly. When the gunpowder smoke clears up, there is not one single holy cow left standing. But Ms Merrow then proceeds to reload and take precision aim, shooting straight at most everything, including vegans, carnivores, gay-bashing, child abuse, racism, drug abuse, missing fathers, and problems that single moms may encounter.

Jude’s best friend, Keisha, (who I surmise is black, even though I believe it is never really clearly stated, I just go by the name and the feeling—is that wrong of me?) is a hoot; she is querulous and beautiful and strong and kickass and his friend, his true friend. I love that. She is a friend by his side in ways that most people only dream of. Jude also stands up for her in ways he wouldn’t even stand up for himself. Beautiful. Truly beautiful. Those two, trying out for karate classes had me roaring with laughter.

Jude meets David, who isn’t out of the closet and ten years his senior, and they both fall for each other like over-ripe apples—after a bit of initial problems of course. Jealousy over ex-boyfriends called Knut, for example. Which leads me directly to a passage of great literary worth:

“If he laid a finger on my David, I’d just have to use my newfound martial arts mojo and kick him in the Knuts.”

And then there are some middle-story problems, of course. And then some get-together-hotness, and then a little angst that quickly gets sorted. There, all better now!

I found that race was present in this story, in a good way, i.e. people WERE of different races. It makes my heart sing, as most books are just white people, with white problems, and white neighborhoods, in white countries.

I grew up on three continents, and for over 75 percent of my life I have been a foreigner, never fitting in, always looking like I should be somewhere else. Somewhere in the middle of this book there is a bitter-sweet banter where you can just feel how Jude had been bullied as a kid. Here’s the passage, I found it dealt beautifully with how mean kids can be to their peers of different origins:

“It’s getting a bit nippy now the sun’s gone in,” said David.
I glared at him. “Not particularly fond of that word. Not after kids at school using it to get a cheap laugh at my expense—It’s a bit nippy in here, innit? Yeah, Jappo Jude just walked in.”
“Jude…” David’s face crumpled. “I would never, ever say anything like that, okay? I’m sorry I brought back bad memories for you. I’ll try and be more careful in the future.”

And that, my friends, is how you handle a delicate matter of someone having been made to feel bad about belonging to a specific race. Also, I command Jude on his externalizing his discomfort at once, instead of just taking it in silence. I found relief here, there was dignity and good feeling.

And suddenly, now at the end of my review, I realize that this story, that had me laughing until I cried like a maniac, has made a deeper impression than I expected, for all its layered messages. And when I go read what other people have thought about this book (as I always do AFTER I’ve written down my own feelings for a book) I see that this is an extremely divisive story. You either love it or you hate it. How about that. Many people don’t seem to see AT ALL what I am seeing.

This is why I love books. They are personal.

I see things of great value in here. Your mileage may vary, but for me, this was well worth both my time and my money. I feel I am thinking more about this book than many other ones that I have read lately.

JL Merrow really has a way to making her stories insinuate themselves into my head, and this one will stay with me for a long time—a bit like her Muscling Through, but on a different level.

Yes, I absolutely adored it. Crazy limericks and all. Kick-ass hippie, veteran vegans and all. Carrots and burgers and all.

Yeah, I loved Jude, his world, its poetry, and all.


***

Nobody forced me to read this book, I simply fell upon it and devoured it in three days. I’d really like it if somebody fed me more of this kind of crack.

Find this book at Samhain Publishing

Book Review - The General and the Horse-Lord, by Sarah Black

General John Mitchel and his favorite pilot, Gabriel Sanchez, served together as comrades and brothers-in-arms for more than twenty-five years. They followed the warrior’s path: honor first, and service, and the safety of the tribe. Their own needs for love and companionship were secondary to the mission. Retirement from the army, however, proves challenging in ways neither expected. When old warriors retire, their armor starts falling away, and the noise of the world crowds in. That changing world sets up longings in both men for the life they might have had. After years of loving on the down-low, the idea of living together in the light seems like pure sweet oxygen to men who have been underwater a little too long. But what will it cost them to turn their dreams into truth?

No spoilers, I talk about what I found in this book, not what is actually in it.

Coolest title this year, together with what must be truly the ugliest cover.
Well, fabulous things have been known to come also in unexpected packages, and this book was recommended to me by Con Riley, and that’s usually enough for me.

And boy, does this book ever deliver, it is a scathing and fantastic swing at the Don’t ask, don’t tell.

It is a vision of the freeing of souls, the opening of minds, the possibility to move firmly into what and who you are, free to be you. To not miss out on a huge part of what is life, which is love.

This book does all that, and at the same time it is humorous, screaming-out-loud funny in places, especially where the young, crazy artistic boys meet with the two closeted-for-decades soldiers—there is a clash and a bang and so, so, so much love. Both between the generations and between the peer groups.

Then it takes a nose-dive into the mandatory angst, and I was okay with that, too.

I’m in an excerpt-kind-of-mood today, so here are some of my favorite moments:

”All you want to do when you’re fourteen is snatch up a broadsword and hack something to pieces, then find a big rock and fuck it to death.”

“John, did you see those boys at the bar the other night? They weren’t just out and proud, they were out and proud in flashing neon, you know?”

“It seems to me I’ve been missing something critical. I see that in you too. Missing the right to love. The right to make a life together.”

“’Would we have to play the gay-card?’
Gabriel sighed. ‘John, we’re gay. You know that, right?’”

“I’ll find some smoke granades. Smoke is always good to make a confusing situation a little more confusing.”

“If you ask one more lost boy to move into the house, I’m going to start building a barracks in the back yard.”

It has made me cry, and smile, and scream out loud with laughter, as anyone who has been following my updates know. It was well-written, with only three or four spelling errors. (But honestly? “Hanger” is not the word you’re looking for when talking about where to park your Apache, okay? Try “hangar”).

This story was so vividly painted that I still have an image of the house, the streets, the places they went, right here in my head. The characters were so real, so consistent with who they were that they just convinced me of the whole story. I know what the house looks like. The garage and the back yard. Ho-Ho’s food joint is a real place in my head.

Kim, oh Kim! He must be the most darling young man on the planet. I love him so much.

Honor. Pride. Love. Duty. Family. Romance. Friendship. Hate. Pain. Support. Comfort. Justice. And, of course, cheating. Yourself, your partner, your life, your very soul.

Now, the only note of pain, for me, in this book, was the character Martha, who was painted out to be the villain. Well, excuse me if I go outside and barf, but she had fucking reason to be pissed off. A lot of wrong had been done to her. A lot.

That said, this book gets all the stars from me. It wasn’t the heartbreak extraordinaire that I was led to believe, going in, but it was hard. It was hard work, trials and tribulations.

It was good, and safe, and home, and happy, and sad, and terrifying, and beautiful, and more. So much more.

What I will take with me now, when moving on, is Kim.
Kim and his love for his friends, his uncle, and for pink nail polish.


***

I was NOT asked to read this book by anyone, and I paid for it with my own money.

Find this book at Dreamspinner Press 

Explicit, non-porn—On G-spots and vibrators

I got a call from the daughter of a friend the other day, and she was wondering about G-spots. We got into a long discussion, as she really wondered if it was all a hoax. (As I know her folks are okay with us talking about sex, I hold nothing back). Better I tell her, than some stupid male-porn-site informing her of her shortcomings or on how she SHOULD be/look/act. (Yes, I’m specifically thinking of this whole plastic surgery happening on labia these days, because society tells women they are too big/ugly/whatnot. Absurd).

So we had a long discussion about orgasms, the clit, and the G-spot. When you’re fifteen-sixteen years old, sometimes you don’t even know how to find your clit, so any discussion is to be considered fruitful. There was some giggling, but then we got down to the nitty-gritty facts, and there was more of “Oh, I see! That is awesome!” and “Wow, I had no idea. That sounds way cool!”

Which I find to be the right kind of attitude to sex.

Then this whole thing got me thinking about a discussion I had on twitter some time back, about vibrators and what not (Hi, ladies!), and I remember thinking that some of you probably haven’t found that elusive G-spot yet either.

So, I said to myself, why not do a post about it? Because, clearly 140 characters are not going to be enough.

I started researching, to get some back-up on what I know is true for me personally (Hey! The vagina is personal, and every single one is different from the next) and boy, there’s a lot of porn out there, but it seems to me that it is mostly directed at men and how they can get pleasure out of the female body. Not so much directed towards the female to enjoy her own body—or the body of the female next to her.

See, with men and their junk, it’s mostly okay to touch anywhere, everywhere, JUST TOUCH IT ALREADY! and he is happy. It is a lot like “touch here and here and YES YES YES YES YES RIGHT THERE AND THERE AND THERE”. Brilliant. I love that about men. Some places are more sensitive to your touch than others, but basically, ANYWHERE is good. Just touch it.

With a woman, it is a bit more complicated. It is crucial that you touch in the right spot. To continue the image from the male side, caresses often end up like this: NO NO NO YES! NO NO NO NO NO NOT THERE, FURTHER UP NO NO NO YES YES RIGHT THERE! NO NO NO NO NO NOT THERE FURTHER DOWN GAH, OH HELL, GET OFF ME. Followed by **sigh**.

What men don’t get (seeing as their pleasure-zones are so different from ours) is that once you find the right spot YOU DON’T STOP. You DON’T MOVE AWAY. You KEEP GOING. The same movement, over and over and over again.

Now, the above information, in combination with a deeper knowledge of the clitoris, is the actual key to the mystery of the female orgasm.

So here goes:

The clitoris is a huge organ. Don’t ever believe it is only that little, sweet nub you see on the outside. What you can feel on the outside is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. There’s a whole network inside that reaches far around the vagina, actually hugging it. This is where the G-spot come into the show. Because it is A PART OF THE CLITORIS. I bet they never taught you that in sex-ed, eh? It is actually considered the root of the clitoris. Well, don’t blame them, there has been frightfully little research ever done on this, and it is mostly new scientific findings. But many women have known about this for eons, so let’s get back to sharing that information, shall we?

Let’s find it!

The location of the G-spot varies, of course, just as much as what the whole female apparatus looks like can vary from one woman to the other. But generally, if you have found your clitoris, then you can find your G-spot right opposite it, but on the inside. (And, no, not all of you will need extremely long fingers to reach it, that’s just erotic literature taking you for the same kind of ride that male-centered porn does. It all depends on your vagina, in some the G-spot is further in, in some it is placed in a very near position. Search for the ridge! What ridge? Oh, keep reading, it’s up next).

Use a finger, soft pad facing upward, and slide it into your vagina. The first part is slick and totally even, soft, unruffled. Then you get to a ridge in the soft flesh, a ridge that sits right on the bone. After this ridge there are ruffles and your finger is inside the soft cavern of your vagina, no longer constricted to the shallow channel.

That first ridge? That is right where the G-spot sits. But you won’t feel anything different there, nothing, except the transversal ridge UNTIL you stimulate the clitoris (on the outside). When you do stimulate the clitoris on the outside, there is a very small point that swells up, right in that ridge—personally I call it my lady-boner. Yeah, that’s exactly what it feels like.

So, recap: stimulate outside clitoris, feel for the inside clitoris-boner happening, and keep going.

Of course, this is a lot of stimulating, and doing, and touching and what not. Frustrated, you don’t seem to have enough hands to do it all. I know, I know. This is where a vibrator comes in mighty handy. (Well, it ALWAYS comes in handy, but more so here).

(Lube up, there is so much more fun to be had with lube). (Just trust me on this one).

Set the vibrator to a steady buzz, no pulsing, you need the steady one for searching for the elusive G-spot.

Place the vibrator in your one hand and push it over your clit until you feel that the clit is starting to react.

Put your finger inside you, soft pad facing upwards as before, and feel your way to that ridge right behind the slick, soft surface. Stop there, and gently tap the ridge, around its middle. Search a little with your finger, while pushing the vibrator down on your clit, and wait for your G-spot to appear. It is right there, and it comes alive with the buzz and the tapping, and if you keep at it, in tens-of-seconds you are already coming. Hard.

It’s a kind of magic.

If you have a good relationship with your partner, you can ask him/her to go on an adventure with you. And once you teach your partner how to help you do this, s/he will totally go to town with you, because this action takes it to a whole different kind of orgasm, which makes it a whole new level of awesome just to watch you come.

Interesting links:

http://www.charlieglickman.com/2010/06/amazing-new-research-about-the-clitoris/  Very scientific, with actual ultrasound photos of the clitoris, its legs (the so called crura), the branches (ischio rami), the body itself of the clitoris, and the glans that is related to the male counterpart, the prostate (hello P-Spot!). This is actually an awesome site on a lot of deep questions about sex, turning on and off, body-shaming and more.

http://www.themarysue.com/clitoris-discovery-2009/
This site has a couple of images, taken from research done on the exited clitoris, and these MRI-pictures say more than the proverbial one thousand words. But would you look at those pictures! There is a whole little monster of a hugging-clit in there! 

Let me know if this helped you.