Sex Education and the lack of it. Or, Why the hell did I write my book?

I have finally finished writing my book, A Girl's Guide To Getting Off, and other things you won't learn in sex ed.

It all began when I was running a group of skillshare events with a friend about sexual pleasure, sex toys and Gspots and all the good things sex can do and discovering how many women over forty had never had an orgasm or even knew what pleasures their bodies were capable of. They were telling me things like "I wish I'd learnt all this as a teenager. It would have saved me a lot of confusion, self doubt and bad decision making as an adult."
It got me thinking of my own sex education and what I wish for my daughter... And I looked and I looked, and I found very little age appropriate stuff on the matter of sex and pleasure and relationships and all of the things we are supposed to automatically know when we "grow up".
So... Being the go-getter that I am, and a person who knows quite a lot about sex, pleasure and how to get the best out of it, I wrote it myself. And below are just some of the many other reasons this book needs to be out there...

Publishers please take note, and check your slush piles. I'm sure it's hiding in there somewhere

Technology is amazing. I mean, the things we can do nowadays! I can have a live video phone conversation with someone sitting in a grass hut in Africa. I can go on a virtual deep sea dive in an almost inaccessible part of the world. I can read the entire works of Shakespeare and all the Mr Men books and then take a tour of The Louvre while listening to a live Doors concert and I don't even have to get out of bed!

The wealth of information that comes through these little lit-up screens in our hands and on our laps is so far beyond 2000 it's crazy. Everything can be found by Googling it and I mean everything. The good, the bad and the ugly. Really, really ugly.

Yes, technology these days is amazing, but it can be fraught with problems too. One of the main issues that comes from such a huge influx of information is that it can be tricky to separate the truth from the lies, the real from the fake. And, if we lack the ability to process all this information in a way that helps us understand what we are seeing, why we are seeing it and what it all actually means, it can become a very dangerous thing.

One of the groups most vulnerable to the exposure of false, misleading and damaging information are teenagers. The brain is still developing, traits like reason and risk management are still developing or changing, and (as we are all aware) teenagers already know everything, so they can't be logically explained to or told otherwise. And now, with this universe of information in their pockets, they can claim to be experts on almost anything and have the “proof” to back it up.

Now that's all well and good when it comes to the latest Xbox game or the season finale of The Walking Dead, but when it comes to things that can be potentially life changing and damaging we, as adults, parents, friends and members of the universe, have a duty of care to make sure our younger generations are given the right information and tools to move into adulthood with minimum damage. It's fantastic that all this information is out there literally at your fingertips, but giving kids free reign of it all and not helping them process and understand it is as dangerous as letting a toddler play with an oven and figure out for themselves why their hands are getting burnt.

And this is all too obvious when it comes to sex. Proper sex education of young people is in decline. Parents are too afraid or embarrassed to talk to their kids about sex and teachers are afraid of the parents' reactions to their teachings and therefore keep it so basic that nothing is really taught and real questions are not being answered,and so a lot of kids end up in situations they cannot understand or process properly.

It's an illogical circle really. I won't tell my kids about sex, pleasure, orgasms, safety, consent, relationships and then they will never ever do it til I think they're old enough to handle it, and in doing so push their kids to the step of finding it out for themselves and inevitably seeing and experiencing worse.

The thing is plenty of teenage kids are going to have sex. Whether you want them to or not. They will. They have been for generations. And will for years to come. It's normal exploration. Telling them not to doesn't work and telling them not to without any good reasons is even worse. Telling them that sex is dirty, dangerous, bad and wrong is also not going to stop them. What it will do, however is make sure they are uninformed, unsafe, irresponsible and completely against coming to you for any help or advice when things do happen that are less than desired like pregnancy, STIs or sexual assault.

I recently heard of a woman who kicked her 15 year old daughter out of her home because she had got pregnant. Her reason? “I told her not to have sex. She didn't listen. What will the community think of the sort of mother I am who lets her teenager get pregnant.”

I'd be more worried about what the “community” would think of me as a mother who throws a young, pregnant vulnerable child out onto the street... But maybe that's just me.

She hadn't taught her daughter about safe sex. About condoms or the pill. About any of that. She truly believed that no information and “banning” her from doing it was the way to go. It wasn't. It isn't. And it never will be.

In 2011 the Australian Research Centre in Sex, Health and Society conducted a survey among nearly 300 secondary school teachers of sexual health from every jurisdiction in Australia including government, Catholic and independent schools.

Some of the key findings were:

* Most sex education teachers are female teachers trained in PE and health.

* Sixteen percent of teachers had no outside training whatsoever, and the majority of those who did attended a one day seminar with only a single focus, which was mainly reproduction.

* Only a quarter of all surveyed teachers had external help from organisations that specialise in sex education.

* Most sex education classes are given to students in years nine and ten with very little being taught in years eleven and twelve.

* Less than fifty percent of respondents taught about the pleasure of sexual behaviour/activity which suggests that Australian sex education focuses more on the negative outcomes rather than an overall approach.

* Over half of all the teachers surveyed said they found it hard to fit sex education into the curriculum as it wasn't allocated time.
* A fifth of all respondents cited a lack in training and resources as to why they avoided teaching some topics

* Just under fifty percent said they were afraid of community/parental backlash from some topics so were less likely to teach or talk about them in class. (including pleasure and same sex attraction)

* Topics that teachers said they would like to see included in the sex ed curriculum were: Same sex attraction, pleasure of sexuality, communication and negotiation skills, sexual decision making, respectful relationships and contraception.

* Almost a quarter of the teachers surveyed were unsure whether their school had a sex education policy.

Actual quote from survey:
“Teachers indicated that sexuality education should start in primary school and cover topics such as relationships and feelings, names and functions of body parts and reproduction. For most of the topics listed in this survey teachers stated that they should be taught earlier than they were actually teaching them as per curriculum. ...While the majority of teachers (51%) thought sexuality education was very effective in increasing knowledge and understanding in sexuality and sexual health, they judged sexuality education programs less effective for teaching young people about exploring and clarifying feelings, values and attitudes, developing and strengthening skills and promoting and sustaining risk-reducing behaviour.”

 

It's clear from this that most teachers are aware of what should be taught and when it should be taught but are mostly afraid to do so. Especially when it comes to teaching kids about pleasure which, when you think about it, is what sex is. It is pleasurable. It feels good. It is ultimately why most people have sex - for the sensation.

Telling children it is wrong or bad or dirty or beneath them is the first step to creating guilt, shame and confusion. But it feels good! How can it be bad??
In the same way we teach kids to enjoy chocolate but not be irresponsible with it and eat nothing but junk, we need to be able to tell our kids the same kind of things about sex. Sure it feels good, it can be one of the best things out there, but it comes with risks and responsibilities and ways to make sure you come out the other end undamaged. Just telling them how awful it is, without addressing the things they know to be true (like how good it can feel) is only telling half the story. As adults we know you can't build an Ikea bookshelf without half the instructions, why would we send our kids into the world with only half the instructions and then expect that bookshelf not to come crashing down and potentially kill them?

 Just look at these figures.

STI Rates (taken straight from Australian Bureau of Statistics "social trends" June 2011)

Chlamydia... For women aged 15-19 years, the notification rate increased from 569 per 100,000 in 2001, to 2,228 per 100,000 in 2011
Gonorrhoea... The national notification rate for people aged 15 years and over was 65 per 100,000 population, up from 40 per 100,000 in 2001.
Syphilis... The 15-19 years age group increased by 60%, 35-39 years increased by 84% and 45-49 years increased by 129%.

 HIV AIDS... In 2010, there were 1,031 new cases of HIV among men and women aged 13 years and over, or 5.5 notifications per 100,000 population.

 

 This, all of this, is why I have written my book. I believe there is a great deal of information our teenagers are not getting due to parental ignorance or embarrassment, teacher and school restrictions or lack of guidelines on what can and can't be taught.
There needs to be a place where kids can go to get all their information and knowledge from that is not only age appropriate, but correct, respectful, fully inclusive and spoken in a language they understand. They don't need to be told “no”. They need to be told everything, and then make up their own minds as to what they will do. I truly believe if we want to raise intelligent adults, we need to start with having informed children.

The Ups and Downs of it...

(A re-done edited version of an old People Mag column)

Someone asked me the other day, “How much sex is too much?” And I jokingly replied, “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

I'm lucky. Working hasn’t affected my non-professional sex-life in any way at all (except in the positive). I still enjoy sex as much as always and have found, through my work, a whole bunch of new and exciting things to do and try but, when I thought about it a bit more, I did come up with something.

Now, I bet you’re probably thinking I'm gonna say something about “too much” being in a walking-like-a-cowboy-can’t-sit-comfortably-for-a-week kind of way, but I wouldn’t refer to that sort of sex like that at all – I mean, that might make it seem like I thought that was a bad thing… No, I’m thinking about those times where one hour seems to go for three and I just can’t wait for it to end.

Let me first clarify and make something very clear, it’s never about the client’s looks, experience, size (be it cock or body), or things like that at all. I never have, and never will judge anyone on those superficial and aesthetic things. No, the times when it really just gets too much has only ever come down to one or two things, and when I say come down… Well, I guess you could say that’s one of them.

Again, let me explain and be very very clear, I’m not talking about the problems some men have with impotence and premature ejaculation. That's a very real issue and one I spend a lot of time talking to people about, giving advice on and suggesting tricks and techniques and products to use and I would never look at that circumstance in such a selfish or negative way. I know how bloody frustrating it is for guys who have to deal with that situation. Also, I’m not even talking about the guys who have been out on the piss (or other stimulants) all night, and are having a communication breakdown between their top and bottom brains – I gotta tell you, it’s usually more their breath than their boner that’s the problem. No, it's none of these things at all. They happen. It's life. But, what I am talking about is when those guys, for whatever reason (medical issues, substance based, stress or emotionally caused), lose the moment halfway through but then completely refuse to accept it.

Like I've said, I know sometimes it goes soft and that’s okay, shit happens. Sometimes it comes back (Yippee!!) and sometimes it doesn’t (Aw bummer) but if, unfortunately, it doesn’t come back then I’m sorry, but sex is just not going to work. It just isn't.

Like any self-respecting nympho I have a very strict condom rule. If it’s not on, it’s not on, and unfortunately if it’s not up then you can’t get it on, or keep it on if it happens halfway through. A limp cock in a condom is a very ineffective tool and there’s nothing worse than when a guys tries to keep using it.

It’s like trying to thread cooked spaghetti through a needle. Not only is it a virtually impossible task but it’s also one I cannot see the purpose of at all. He just gets frustrated and pissed off at himself as he awkwardly and unsuccessfully tries to push it inside me which, to be honest, feels horribly like a loosely wrapped slug being pressed against me. To make things just a little bit worse, those people who know me know I have a rather horrid (if not somewhat ridiculous) fear of slugs and so the whole sensation and thought of it just makes it all that much worse.

But really, it’s that stubborn refusal to give up and admit that it’s not going to work that frustrates me the most and makes it endlessly tedious.

Seriously, guys, there are so many other things we could be doing that are way more fun and sexy rather than getting yourself all worked up and upset and stressed out about “doing it”. And not only that. I mean, aside from my own personal exasperation and boredom, it just seems like a waste of your money.

So, ironically, I suppose what I’m saying is the times it’s been a bit too much, is when there’s not been too much of anything at all!

The Then and Now of Sex Shops

Originally posted in The Australian Sex Party Blog on Thursday, 11 August 2011 

ONE of the most embarrassing moments of my life (apart from that time I wet my pants at Suzanne Bs 8th birthday party) was the first time I ever went to buy a vibrator. Back in those days - you know, the good ol' days of the early 90s - there were very few options. You could mail order from the back of a magazine or do the sneaky venture past the dirty curtain into the seedy sex shop.

Being about sixteen I had two problems. One, I didn't have a credit card to buy out of a magazine (and was too scared to get something delivered to my house where I might have to explain the package to my parents) and two, I was under eighteen so, even though I was legally able to have sex, it was illegal for me to go into a sex shop and buy a toy. Talk about frustrating!

It also didn't help that this was, as I said, the early 90s and sex shops were hidden away in bleak industrial areas, usually unable to reach by bus. In my case it was Fyshwick in Canberra, home of brothels, fireworks and porn, so you'd think it would be easy. No such luck.

If you're familiar with Canberra in the early 90s, you'll know that the public transport system was (and from what I hear still is) lacking in many things. Like buses taking you anywhere you needed to go on a direct route.

Finally, after months of thinking about it I decided to bite the bullet and go. So, under the guise of spending Saturday with a friend, I left the house early and began my adventure.

First there was a bus to my local interchange, then a bus to the city and then a bus out to Fyshwick. It took almost two hours, but I was finally there.

I got off the bus but all I could see were  furniture shops, carpet shops and hardware shops. Nothing that looked like a sex shop at all. Great. I wandered around aimlessly, not wanting to go too far and wind up lost and unable to get home.

I was about to give up when, in a small cluster of shops I saw a “XXX” sign. Sucking up every ounce of courage I had I pushed open the door and went inside.

It took me all of about 30 seconds to realise this wasn't the shop for me. Leather masks hung from the walls, huge dildos in the shape of fists and arms sat on the shelves, and the videos all had titles like “There's a Bear in There” and “Bob's Big Balls”. There wasn't a single picture of a woman  and everything had the words “Hard” and “Strong” and “Man” written on it.

“Um, can I help you?” A big guy in a leather vest had come out from the back and was looking at me curiously.

“I think I'm in the wrong shop,” I said, turning bright red and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

The guy smiled kindly. “Go round the corner, about three shops up. I think that one will work better for you.”

Muttering my thanks and hurrying out the door, I followed his directions and ended up outside a small shop that proclaimed it sold porn and fireworks. Again, I breathed in all my insecurities and walked through the door.

It was very similar to the first shop, although instead of leather masks hanging from the walls there were blow-up dolls, the fist and arm dildos were replaced with vibrators shaped like penises and all the posters were of fake-boobed women in the throes of passion.

A fat guy (think Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons) looked up from behind the counter and silently eyed me up and down, making me feel even more uncomfortable than I had in the gay shop.  After he'd sufficiently checked me out he went back to his book and ignored me.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the shop looking around me at all the things on the shelves. I had no idea where to start. Porn-shop-guy did nothing to help and, to be honest, I really didn't want to talk to him. The thought of asking him his advice on which toy would be best made me feel a bit creepy and so, empty-handed and feeling like my day had been a total waste, I left the shop and headed back to the bus stop.

As I passed back by the gay shop the guy was sitting outside having a cigarette.

“How'd you go, love?” he asked?

I shook my head. “Crap.” I said.

He looked at me sympathetically. “What exactly are you after?”

“I don't know,” I said. “That's the problem. Probably just a vibrator.” The fact that this guy was speaking to me kindly, and was obviously gay, made me feel a lot more comfortable talking to him.

“Come on,” he said, stubbing out his smoke. “Let's see if I can help you.”

And so I went into the gay porn shop with its “Devastator Butt Plugs” and its “Piss In Boots” videos and started looking at vibrators with a Bear named Brent.

He showed me how to test the buzz against my nose to see how strong it was, he talked to me about the differences between all the toys and even gave me safe sex advice about condoms and dams. When I finally left I had a brand new buzzy toy (a bright blue penis-shaped thing) and a bag of free batteries, condoms and lube. The best part was that I'd felt comfortable buying it. I hadn't felt sleazed on or treated like some sort of deviant freak. Just real advice and great service. If only all the sex shops had this kind of thing!

In the following years I went into quite a few different places and pretty much always encountered the same thing as that second shop. Sleazy and/or uninterested men working behind the counter, no real advice and everything set up to look like the inside of a porn set. Great if you're a bloke, sure, but not so great for females, especially for the timid or inexperienced. And, with the toys always looking like big penises it wasn't much fun for lesbians or women who didn't want to have a big plastic cock rubbing against them!

But fast forward almost twenty years and I am pleased to say that things have definitely changed! Finally sex shops are being set up in a much more female-friendly way. Nearly every single one I've gone into in the last five or so years (and trust me, that's a lot) is tastefully designed. There are no half naked orgasmic women on the walls, there are nearly always women working behind the counter and no longer are all vibrators shaped like cocks! There are dolphins and penguins and worms and seals in a myriad of different colours, as well as hundreds of non-creature female-centric designs, made especially to cater for a woman's body. There are costumes in packages showing women of all shapes and sizes wearing them, porn made specifically for women, and there is always someone friendly and non-confronting to give advice.

In fact, even with the invent of the internet and the availability of millions of websites selling toys, I will always recommend to a first-time buyer to go into a shop first (which are also now in way more accessible areas) and talk to the girl behind the counter. That one-on-one advice really is invaluable to get you on your way to buzzing bliss! These shops are doing wonderful things for women's self esteem (and not to mention their sex lives) by making them feel comfortable about their desires to masturbate, watch pornography, explore their sexuality and enjoy sex. So, ladies, if you haven't stepped inside a shop because you're worried about having a similar experience to my first time, don't panic! You'll be pleasantly surprised and I guarantee your body will thank you for it!

On a little side note I would like to say that I went back and saw Brent many times after that  day and, in a funny twist of events, I even ended up working in the gay shop with him... But that's another story...

That Tingly Feeling

I used to think of myself as a pet person, I personally have a couple of cats a bunny and some fish, but ever since I’ve been working, and have come across the various animals people have, I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong.

I mean, there was that time those horrible yap-dogs ripped apart my underwear, and that time I had to nakedly chase a rabbit around a garden, and I thought those pets were bad enough, but then, a few weeks ago, I met Roy and Hilda.

Now, before you start getting all excited about a smokin’ hot threesome I should stop and let you know that Roy and Hilda were not my clients.

Jim was my client, and Roy and Hilda were his pet tarantulas.

Freakishly large and hairy, they sat in this huge aquarium, their legs all twitchy and gross, and just stared at me with those horrible eyes on stalks.

I faked my way through the whole “ooh you have interesting pets” thing, smiling and nodding as he told me all about their diet and habitat, all the while resisting the urge to do what I normally do when faced with a fuck-off large spider in front of me: Scream, Squish, or Spray, or all of the above.

After a crash course in tarantulas 101, which I hastily swept to that corner of my brain where all useless and creepy info gets stored (like certain scenes from Freddy Got Fingered, and the weird shape of my exes penis), he took me into the bedroom and, perhaps sensing my goose-pimply apprehension, assured me that the bedroom was spider free.

Things were getting hot. He’d put on some music and dimmed the lights and was slowly kissing his way down my neck. He’d shed his jeans, revealing a thick, cut cock, which I’d wrapped my hand around, and with each little pull and squeeze I gave it, he moaned and kissed harder onto my skin.

I lay back on the bed, my hair tickling my skin as it fell over my shoulders and arms, and suddenly my head was filled with images of spidery legs, hairy and hideous, walking all over me.

Involuntarily I screamed, jumping back on the bed and began crazily swiping away at my arms and body like some kind of deranged mental patient.

Jim was obviously used to it because he hardly flinched and just sat on the end of the bed watching me, with a slightly amused look on his face.

After about five minutes I calmed down and he sort of laughed.

“I told you there were no spiders in here,” he said.

The rest of the booking went okay, I managed to keep my mind mostly on the job, but every now and then something would brush my arm and I’d get all shivery again.

As I was leaving he asked if he could see me again. My eyes flickered to the tank behind him and he hastily added that he’d make sure he booked a hotel room for next time.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all for animals and pets and people who love animals and pets, but please, is it too much to ask that you treat your pet spiders like your porn collection and just hide them when you invite a girl over? It would really make for a much better evening and, trust me, a way better fuck.