Theresa Tingey / Student Health Education Centre

 

The sex positive movement has promoted safe, consensual and open sexuality for decades. Proponents of this ideology celebrate the healthy and pleasurable aspects of safe sexual activity among consenting adults. In an article for “Health Promotion Atlantic,” Lisa Tobin of Planned Parenthood Metro Clinic of Halifax explains that sex positivity includes having an open-minded, inclusive and comprehensive definition of sexuality, viewing sexual health as a human right, and focusing on both the positive as well as some of the possible negative consequences of sexual activity to allow people to make their own informed decisions about sexual activity. Though many would agree nowadays that this perspective is more than reasonable, the sex positivity movement has not been without its share of opposition.

One particularly interesting and ardent opponent of this idea of sex positivity was John Harvey Kellogg, of Kellogg’s cereal. Besides building a breakfast empire, Kellogg also wrote about his very conservative views concerning sexuality in his books “Plain Facts about Sexual Life” and “Plain Facts for Old and Young,” which were published in the late 1800s. For example, Kellogg was especially concerned with masturbation. He believed that masturbation degraded the moral integrity, physical and mental health of both male and female practitioners and resulted in cancer, urinary tract infections, impotence, epilepsy, loss of vision and even death. Modern scientists, however, would tell you that not only does masturbation not cause these illnesses, regular masturbation has been linked to decreases in the risk of prostate cancer, increases in libido and mood and possible immune system benefits.

In any case, Kellogg supported some especially drastic procedures to dissuade people from masturbating. Such procedures involved applying carbolic acid to a female’s clitoris, circumcising males without anesthesia and literally suturing male genitals in place to prevent erection. In each case, Kellogg suggested that to truly discourage masturbation, individuals were to associate pain with otherwise pleasurable sexual activities.  He even designed corn flakes to decrease interest in sex through his flawed notion that their high carbohydrate content would reduce sex drive. Interestingly, the creator of Graham Crackers, Rev. Sylvester Graham, also shared this belief that a bland diet low in protein would minimize libido.

Kellogg was just one of many opponents of masturbation around in the Victorian era. At this time, females were also discouraged from riding bicycles, as the combined activities of straddling the saddle and vigorous pedaling were thought to lead to sexual arousal and masturbatory tendencies in females. Special bicycles were even created that had a depression in the seat to avoid contact with a female’s genital area. Again, the reasoning behind this ridiculous modification was that bicycling would not only arouse women, but that this arousal was immoral and should be prevented.

Though we’d like to think we’ve come a long way since the Victorian era, some ideas concerning sexuality and positive sexual behavior still seem taboo. It was not until 1973, for instance, that homosexuality was no longer classified as a mental illness in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Moreover, as of January 2013, same-sex marriages had only been legalized in 9 states.

This brings up some of the important reasons for having positive attitudes towards sex and sexual practices. Not only does this mindset support equal rights, it advocates for creating spaces for talking about safe sexual practices.  Having non-judgmental and open-minded conversations that use inclusive language to discuss sexuality can help people express themselves in ways that are not only enjoyable, but are also safe and respectful of their partners.

So next time you eat a bowl of cereal or ride your bike to campus, maybe consider some of the ways that you can have a more positive attitude towards sexuality. You can also stop by the SHEC office in MUSC if you have any questions, comments or concerns about your own sexual health.

Nicole Jedrzejko
The Silhouette

Whether you’re having it or not, everyone has strong opinions about sex. What it really is, who should be having it, good vs. bad, fears, fantasies, successes and shames. We have left high school, often the first environment where sex becomes a factor in interpersonal communication, and entered the big, new world of university. Suddenly surrounded by thousands of peers with dramatically differing backgrounds and lifestyles, you start to notice changes. For many of us, university is the first time we are granted full autonomy in decision-making, without the usual parental (or other authoritative figure) supervision. Are we prepared to start making these decisions, especially when it comes to sex?

It is tough to summarize sex’s influence in the lives of people within the McMaster community. Unlike University of Toronto or Queen’s, McMaster does not have a sexual health-specific resource and education centre. Our beloved SHEC combines physical, emotional, mental and psychological health issues along with a dedication to sexual health promotion. Unfortunately, SHEC’s association with sex ed has overshadowed many of its other focuses on nutrition, stress, fatigue, body image concerns and more. It is a major concern that many of SHEC’s services are underutilized based on some students’ perception of SHEC as the “sex ed place.” This begs the question: why are many of us so uncomfortable being associated with sex?

The stigmas and judgments surrounding sex are nothing new to us. It is still quite challenging to navigate conversations on sex with our peers in a candid and open manner, especially when our preferences, experiences and knowledge on sex are completely unique and often not discussed. This awkwardness is perpetuated by society’s narrow view that male + female + nothing freaky = the right kind of sex, anything that strays from that = wrong. Then you start realizing the people who are vocal about sex come from a wide spectrum of those who are very active, very opinionated, or even very immature. That leaves the rest to believe their views on sex don’t belong anywhere.

Most of us have been involved in sexual health education for years, ever since that memorable day when we brought home a parental permission form for next week’s reproductive health unit in elementary school. But now that most of us have finished our formal sex ed curriculum from high school health class, our sex questions are often answered via anecdotal evidence from peers or the “trustworthy” World Wide Web. We know we can’t simply organize an info session or discussion group to eliminate the stigmas on sex preventing some of us from accessing accurate sex ed sources. So what can we do to create an environment where peers can view discussions on sex ed as positive, inclusive, non-judgmental and fun? As university students, we represent much of society’s hopes of an open-minded future prepared for change. Personally, I felt the right thing to do was write about it.

Too many people that you know, that you walk by on the way to class, that you sit next to in lecture or on the HSR have struggled with questions and fears regarding sex. It is up to all of us to not only initiate these discussions, but to lead an accepting lifestyle where opening conversation about sex will be met with sensitivity and respect. We all know the stigmas exist, but it takes an effort from all of us to overcome them.

From STIs, birth control, questioning sexuality, virginity, pregnancy, navigating safe sex options, sexual abuse and manipulation, fertility issues, sex ed curriculum changes and more, we’ll be here to provide new information and perspectives on the wild, weird and wonderful world of sex ed. Start thinking.

Carla Brown

SHEC Media

It can be very traumatic to be diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection. You might feel ashamed or angry. These are normal responses, but it’s important to remember that this doesn’t have to change your life significantly. Here are some tips for coping with an STI diagnosis.

If you haven’t seen a doctor to be diagnosed, you should do so immediately. Many STIs are curable, but you won’t know if treatment is an option for you unless you consult a medical professional.

Even for infections that can’t be cured, like herpes or HPV, measures can be taken to prevent transmission and reduce pain.

Testing can be done on campus at the Student Wellness Centre, or at a number of sexual health clinics run by Hamilton Public Health.

The schedule and location of these clinics can be found at Hamilton.ca (go to Public Health and Social Services, then to Sexual Health and, finally, to Sexual Health Clinics).

You should be aware that some STIs, namely HIV, syphilis and gonorrhea, must be reported by your doctor to the Hamilton Public Health department.

You will also be required by law to provide the names of your previous sexual partners so that they can be anonymously notified if you choose not to notify them yourself.

If you’ve been diagnosed, it’s easy to want to blame yourself or someone else. But blame isn’t a productive response.

Some STIs can be dormant before they show symptoms, so it can be difficult to know what sexual encounter resulted in transmission.

Getting an STI from your partner isn’t necessarily a sign that they have been unfaithful; one of you could have been infected by a previous partner.

Having an STI does not define who you are, and is generally not an intentional fault.

They are very common, and they don’t mean that you’ve been sexually promiscuous (not that there’s anything wrong with that either).

It might feel like it sometimes, but having an STI does not mean that your love life is over. Many people find happy relationships after being diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection.

But it is important to share this information about your health with any potential sex partners.

Some infections, like herpes and HPV, can be spread by skin-to-skin contact, even when you’re wearing a condom.

It might be helpful to have a rehearsed script when talking to potential partners in case you get nervous.

It is better to tell partners before a sexual encounter so they can make informed decisions about their own health. This gives people an opportunity to share their sexual history in return.

Many STIs are so common that your partner probably won’t be surprised or uncomfortable. And sex is much better when you’re both honest with each other.

You might find it helpful to do some research about the STI you have. When you first see the doctor, they might not have a lot of time to explain your infection to you.

In addition, many doctors aren’t experienced with sexual health and may not be familiar with new advances in treatment protocols or the odds of transmission.

Doing some background research will help you to understand what your doctor is saying and be able to ask the right questions.

Being an active participant in your healthcare can prevent you from feeling helpless with respect to your sexual health. Some helpful resources about STIs can be found online at cdc.gov/std or in the Student Health Education Centre (SHEC) on campus.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by your diagnosis, or having trouble processing feelings of guilt, resentment or hopelessness, you should consider seeing a counsellor at the Student Wellness Centre to talk about your feelings; keeping everything bottled up will only cause problems in the long run.

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

The Skin I Live In
Directed by: Pedro Almodovar
Starring: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya

3 out of 5 stars

Myles Herod
Entertainment Editor

Spain’s Pedro Almodóvar could not make a boring picture if he tried. Equally lauded and chastised – sometimes for the same film – his distinctive oeuvre illustrates a man seduced by suggestive sexuality and evocative colours. The movie camera, to him, hides nothing.

Truthfully speaking, The Skin I Live In left me speechless. Call it uncomfortable, ashamed, whatever – I sat at the screen startled, and yet, strangely delighted. In many ways, Skin represents Almodóvar at his most demented and transgressive, breaking loose from two pictures of prestige and world recognition, Talk to Her and Volver.

Cinema history is littered with the remains of mad scientists driven by desire, or damned with the consequences of their perverted souls. Breaching the bounds of pathological decency, The Skin I Live In adapts Thierry Jonquet’s lurid novel Tarantula, a tale of revenge, gender identity and unbridled power.

Channeling his best Cary Grant, Antonio Banderas stars as Robert Ledgard, a suave plastic surgeon whose heavy brow seems apt for obsession. Situated in an immaculate clinic in suburban Toledo, the doctor broods over personal tragedy as he deliberately constructs beauty onto a kidnapped body.

The darkly alluring Elena Anaya plays Vera Cruz, Robert’s young prisoner and plaything, a mysterious woman whose skin is experimentally replaced patch by patch. Alone, and encased in a fetishistic body sheath, Vera practices yoga to the knowing surveillance of the doctor and his elderly housemaid, Marilia.

From the beginning, Almodóvar lets us know something odd is afoot. He manufactures a film so vividly rich and baroque in imagery that its style alone leaves one curiously transfixed.

One of the other chief pleasures of The Skin I Live In is its concoction of operatic emotions and a serpentine screenplay. It is a story that slowly teases with its mysteries, flashbacks and violence that climax in horrific fashion and spinning sexual intrigue.

Although the film’s touchstones are more aligned with two specific influences – Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face and James Whale’s Frankenstein, Almodóvar also ventures further afield to David Cronenberg territory, constructing a kinky, body-horror thriller.

Banderas, working with Almódovar for the first time since 1990’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, gives a deceptively charismatic performance, imbuing Ledgard with a debonair facade and undertone of menace. Even while Ledgard’s medical colleagues disapprove of his experiments with synthetic skin and forced operations, his secretive work continues as the film compels us to review the context of his God complex.

Elena Ayana’s role is even trickier, since we know little about Vera other than her dislike for feminine garments. The film does not play her as a victim, though. Instead, she comes to participate in Ledgard’s strange experiments and intimate desires, gradually disclosing her history and state of mind.

Few directors have the skill at swerving from confident camp to overwhelming chills like this. Though the film ranks as slightly frivolous in Almodóvar’s cannon, it contains enough carnal nourishment and melodrama to keep one glued until its outrageous third act.

By then, The Skin I Live In has fully embraced its wayward weirdness, declaring itself tragic, devilish and, yes, even a tad silly.

 



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By: Barbara Anang

Some girls dream of financial independence, others dream of academic pursuits. And some girls, like me, dream of falling into the arms of a wealthy gentleman and having their every whim come true. This dream of a wealthy gentleman can be a reality for many college students, male or female, but venturing into the world of sugaring (sugar babies and sugar daddies) raises questions of morality. Are you an escort? A companion? Have you sold your soul for a little or a lot of financial relief? What constitutes a sugar baby and sugar daddy relationship, and what do you do when sugar turns to salt? The sugar culture is one that has reached Hamilton, but with a tangier taste than most of its participants desire.

Map of the candy factory

A sugar daddy refers to a wealthy men who can afford to pay the price for an attractive companion or “arm candy.” These “daddies” treat their ladies to the finest that life can offer. They make promises to spoil them in exchange for just a few days of their time each month. Other daddies promise trips with all expenses paid, claiming all that they want is someone to spend time with them while they’re away from home. These are sugar-babies who do not sleep with their sugar daddies. Daddies in these situations say that intimacy isn’t expected, but of course is desired — that’s how a mutually beneficial relationship works, right? Having a sugar relationship isn’t for everyone, but if you know what you’re looking for and can come to an agreement, the relationship can be one that is actually positive for both parties.

When you look at websites geared to sugar babies, daddies and mamas, many local profiles state they do not want a stripper or a professional (to put it bluntly, no prostitution or solicitation is allowed). But the reality in the Steel City is that many of these men are actually salt daddies. They present themselves on websites as having wealth, they claim they are willing to negotiate an allowance and help with bills and expenses, but what they’re really looking for is an affair or paid sex with the “girl next door.”

Now that’s not to say that there aren’t sugar babies who are still able to reap the rewards of having a benefactor. With many salt daddies slipping through the cracks, it takes a keen eye to find the right situation that works for you.

Dear Old Salt Daddy

My personal experience as a wannabe sugar baby, was unfortunately more sour than sweet. Not only was it not financially rewarding, it caused me to question my worth in the eyes of men, the poor and rich alike. I don’t have the “western standard of beauty” and that wasn’t a problem when it came to attracting a “potential.” The issue for me was the fetishization of my identity. I shared my thoughts with an acquaintance and they said, “What did you expect?” The reality is men objectify you, and that’s why you’re there. I suppose I just expected that rich men would want to take me out to charity events, the theatre and classy places I can’t normally afford. I forgot that I have the aesthetic that raises eyebrows when I walk into a room with a middle-aged wealthy man. Since the men in the Steel City are actually salt daddies, they’re looking for someone who won’t draw too much attention and cause whispers and raised eyebrows. Salt daddies aren’t really looking to spoil you; they want to pay you a stipend for your use. They might want to dominate you or they might want to be dominated. Either way, the slick ones will make you forget that you hold the power. You’re the one who can choose to back out.

Getting into the sugar game

After experiencing the pitfalls of getting into a situation that was candy-coated, I have some pointers on how to make sure you’re getting the relationship you want. A great option for wannabe sugars babies is to freestyle. What this means is you rely on “chance” to meet a potential by frequenting places where wealthy men go. Upscale bars, charity galas and sporting events are great examples of where you may find your potential. How do you make a connection like that? Older gentlemen don’t often expect the attention of younger women so once they find out they’ve caught your eye, if they’re interested, they’ll approach you and buy you a drink. Sometimes you’ll have to make the first move. If this is the case, the most effective thing to do is to hand him your business card with a legitimate or made-up occupation and he’ll call if interested. After that, it’s up to you to set the terms of your arrangement.

If being a sugar baby is considered working in the sex industry (and to some there’s no doubt that it is), some could argue that it is empowering — women dictating their own terms and benefiting from their charms. There are women who might argue that there’s nothing wrong with dating someone wealthy, and likely older, because it is much more fulfilling than dating someone their own age and ending up with a broken heart. Another group of women might say that it’s degrading and women are selling their bodies to the highest bidder. It’s simply a matter of perspective.

Overall I didn’t have a terrible experience. I went to dinner, had drinks and wonderful conversations until I realized that these men couldn’t afford my company and having sex with them was definitely out of the question (a wise friend once told me, “pussy sells for thousands”). I would definitely try it again, but probably somewhere in Europe or the USA where the sugar culture is much larger and an industry in and of itself. Being paid enough to forgo student loans and a part-time job still sounds wonderful, but maybe it’s time for me to try my hand at being a financial dominatrix instead.

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By: Victoria Marks

When I first heard the term “demisexual” I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I wasn’t an anomaly, I was a perfectly normal human being just like countless others. Then I cried.

I’ve only been attracted to, and wanted to have sex with, a grand total of four people in my entire life. I can objectively evaluate a person, look at them and say, “yes, their facial symmetry and manner of dress is appealing”, but it won’t mean I’m interested in sleeping with them. I’m what is called a demisexual, which is an identity on the asexual spectrum. Asexuality is both an identity and an umbrella term for someone who does not experience sexual attraction. It is not an orientation — meaning that you can be heterosexual or homosexual without being “sexual” at all — and, according to studies, our best guess is that 1% of the population is “ace” (though since asexual people are not typically open about their sex lives — or lack thereof — there is a chance that number is much higher).

Asexuality is different from being celibate or chaste. Asexuals are not abstaining from something they want, instead the want was never there in the first place. Being asexual doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you, and it certainly doesn’t mean you are sick or damaged.

Sexuality is a spectrum. Much like being hetero or homosexual, think of it as a scale, with most people existing somewhere from one end to the other. The label I found that best describes me is “demisexual”, meaning that I very rarely experience sexual attraction, but when I do it is because of a personal and emotional connection with the object of my affections. Outside of being attracted to a select few individuals, I don’t want to have sex. Often times my libido goes entirely dormant when there isn’t someone I’m attracted to in my life (which is most of the time). Usually I’m not attracted to anyone until I’ve known them and grown close to them over months, or sometimes years.

While labels can be incredibly comforting, they can also feel like a burden. Solving the mystery of my jack-in-the-box libido meant that I had to come to terms with the future of my sex life, which, to be honest, looks pretty bleak. I often worry that I’ve “used up” all my sexual attraction on people who didn’t deserve or reciprocate my affection during my teenage years.

I can never have gratifying casual sex, which seems to be everywhere when you can’t have any. I have to explain to every new partner that I may never want to have sex with them and I’ve been accused of not caring for someone because sexual attraction doesn’t magically appear alongside non-sexual affection. I often feel like my relationships are missing something without sex in them, since almost all relationships I see around me — fictional and non-fictional — involve sex. The only mainstream media representation of asexuality I can think of is a House episode where the patient has a brain tumor suppressing his sexuality. Watching relationships develop on television or in fiction is often an exercise in feeling like I can’t relate, while desperately wishing I could.

Asexuals are not abstaining from something they want, instead the want was never there in the first place. 

Labels can be great. They make you feel like you are not alone. They can establish communities and help you advocate for yourself. The visibility of the ace community has helped a lot of people understand themselves and come to terms with themselves, but the message that is often missed when trying to explain ourselves to sexual people is how alienating and difficult it can be to come to terms with being ace. To those who think they might be asexual, I want to say that it is alright to be frustrated and confused.

There is a lot of pressure in asexual communities towards self-acceptance — which is brilliant and as it should be — but I’ve spent so much time worrying about why I don’t feel fine that I think it is time for us to say that it’s ok to not be ok. I’m demi-sexual and proud, but not necessarily happy about it. And that is alright.

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By: Susie Ellis

Everything to Do With Sex

The Everything To Do with Sex Show is an annual convention held at the Enercare Centre located downtown Toronto. The convention is very much the Comic Con of the sex world and has included many different types of attractions. The main floor is filled with multiple stages for performances, as well as vendors who offer services and products to meet all attendees’ sex and kink needs. The floor is also equipped with an Aphrodisiac Cafe and various food trucks for hungry guests. The show offers many seminars and workshops focusing on a variety of subjects. Attendees can learn how to use a strap-on in the Kink Corner or get educated on the “12 Types of Orgasms” in the Seminar Room. The show also features a Wellness Zone (for options on spicing up your workout) and an Erotic Art Area. The Everything To Do with Sex Show offers a safe space to learn and explore the different facets of romance, sexuality, and self-improvement. This show is the best place to let your imagination run wild and learn exciting new things.

The Playground Conference

The Playground Conference is Toronto’s only intersectional, sex-positive and educational social function. The event, once held as a weekend conference, has been split into quarterly sessions for 2016 (exact dates TBA). The conference features local and international sex and sexuality educators who engage participants in panel discussions, intimate workshops and presentations. In 2015, the conference brought over 310 attendees from various backgrounds, races, genders and sexualities. Playground allows for like¬minded individuals to have an open discussion about how sexual and erotic play can help enhance health and wellbeing. All of the events are not only educational but also bring an aspect of entertainment. Playground is more intimate than the Everything To Do with Sex Show and focuses more on specific (sometimes underrepresented) areas of sex and sexuality.

Tell Me Something Good 1214 Queen Street West, Toronto

Tell Me Something Good is a monthly sexy storytelling event held downtown Toronto at the Gladstone Hotel’s Melody Bar. The show allows for attendees to volunteer to tell their own true personal stories in front of a group of sex-positive friends as well as the judges of the event. These stories can be funny, sad, unexpected or adorable, as long as they stick to the theme of the month and are under the time limit of five minutes. At the end of the night, the judges tally the scores and award the best stories with sexy prizes. A part of what makes TMSG a must-attend event is the inclusive community. Even though the event is judged, there’s no sense of competition amongst the performers. The thought of telling a group of strangers about your sex life might seem scary, but because all the events attendees are sex-positive and non-oppressive, it creates a safe space to voice your vulnerabilities.

Body Pride

If you are looking to change your perspective on your body and step out of your comfort zone in the company of other like-minded, body positive individuals, then Body Pride is an event you may be interested in. Body Pride is a nude body image workshop created by Toronto-based sexuality blog To Be A Slut. The workshop was designed to reconnect participants with their body in a positive manner. There are wine and snacks provided as participants have an evening of relaxing naked together. There is group discussion around sexuality, sex and bodies, followed by an optional nude photo shoot. Although being nude (non-sexually) around strangers might not be for the faint of heart, the workshop provides a space to let go of all negative feelings about one’s physical form and to gain a new natural perspective on our bodies. Body Pride is currently on hiatus with hopes of returning later in the year.

Oasis Aqualounge  231 Mutual Street, Toronto

Oasis Aqualounge is for the more adventurous of sex-positive people. It is a water-themed, upscale sex club in downtown Toronto which offers various theme nights every month. Each day there are restrictions on what types of guests are allowed. Some nights are exclusive to women and couples while others allow for single men to join in on the fun. Sunday nights are their speciality event nights. The building has three floors, including a heated outdoor pool, a sauna and hot tub. There is also a dungeon and multiple bars around the facility. Oasis operates under a consensual mission to provide a sexually liberated and clothing optional space to women and their partners. The facility is hygienic and safe sex is encouraged through condom baskets in every room. If interested in meeting people to pursue sexual encounters, guests can freely talk to anyone in attendance, but must only ask once to touch other guests. Oasis offers a unique space to find like-minded individuals and to explore one’s body in a sexual, safe manner.

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By: Sophie Geffros

My first girlfriend broke up with me for being too gay.

I understood her concerns. We were both deeply closeted teens in a small rural Ontario town where homophobic slurs were so rampant that they were less hate speech and more punctuation.  Despite my best efforts, I’ve never really been someone who could “pass”, and so all of my close relationships were tarred with the same ambiguously gay feather. Even before I was publicly declaring myself a member of the tribe, my friendships with women were treated with added scrutiny by our peers and parents alike.

It was lonely, and so the last years of my high school experience were capped with me aspiring to a kind of hyper-femininity in the vain hope that, if I could just prove I wasn’t one of “those” lesbians, I would be able to kiss girls in peace. Instead, that first doomed relationship was my last intimate encounter with either gender until university.

It was then that I discovered that the same qualities which had always marked me as undesirable and othered in high school could be used to pursue relationships. I was still far too shy to ever do anything so extreme as pursue a girl romantically, but my hair, my clothes, the way I carried myself – all of these built up to a flashing sign pinned to my chest declaring myself strongly uninterested in sex with men. Self-proclaimed “straight” girls would make out with me at parties for titillation and/or a strange kind of liberal street cred, and for a while, that was enough.

Of course there will always be straight men who take the signalling of sexual unavailability as a sort of challenge. The same straight boys who thought it was hot when their girlfriends made out with me had no problem loudly wondering whether I was “only a d*ke because men wouldn’t f*ck [me]”, as one charming specimen asked drunkenly at a party. After sobbing myself to sleep in my dorm room after one such encounter, I pledged to myself that I wouldn’t let myself be used for straight people’s titillation any more. This lasted approximately two and a half weeks, until the straight object of my affections and I engaged in some tequila-fueled fondling at an after-exam party.

In the LGBTQ+ community, there’s a phenomenon known as “second puberty”. Every September fresh-faced youth arrive on campuses across North America, thrilled that they will at last be able to date people of the same gender, or present as the gender they identify as, or even just meet other people who share even an iota of the same experiences as them.

My first girlfriend broke up with me for being too gay.  

What follows can be a rude awakening. Social skills that our straight, cis peers learned in middle school may be completely beyond us. How to flirt, how to ask someone out on a date, how to have your heart broken–these are lessons most of us don’t learn until we are in our late teens and early twenties. It’s one of the things that allows lesbians and bi women to open ourselves up to experimenting with self-identified straight girls who will never leave their boyfriends for us, no matter how many flowery messages we compose in the back of our Math 1A03 notebooks.

To any first year LGBT women reading this let me assure you: she isn’t going to leave him, and you deserve better than being someone’s dirty little secret or youthful experiment. It took me until the age of 20 to realise that sex and relationships shouldn’t leave you with a bitter kernel of shame in your chest.

Part of growing up has been realising that I am one of “those” lesbians, and that it’s okay. Trying to change your gender presentation in the pursuit of an unfulfilling one night stand is a recipe that can only end in tears. The kind of girls who will only have sex with you if you don’t seem too gay are the same girls who will do a number on your self esteem and self respect.

In 2016, let’s pledge to only date people who will make us feel good, and never ashamed.

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I’ve been riding solo for most of my dating life. It might be because when I invite someone over to watch Netflix, I actually really want to watch the movie. Or it could be my insistence on being the little spoon (read: men everywhere, it’s more comfortable. Trust me). But it most likely has to do with my inability to articulate, “I like you” in a scenario that doesn’t end with one party fleeing the scene.

The first two reasons is the kind of reflexive defense I mount when my aunt casually drops the “Why are you single?” bomb at a family dinner. Sometimes it’s subtler (“I feel bad for you. Everyone else is seeing someone!”), but the result is always a tone of pity, followed by a half-hearted attempt at “Well being single is better anyway!”

It’s increasingly common to respond to questions about being single with answers that imply a playful and knowing sense of not giving a damn. These jokes are rooted in the belief that being alone is better as it frees us from the constraints of proper behaviour. In a twisted turn, the single life is glamourized and held up as the gold standard for unadulterated fun.

A younger and envious version of myself would rant about why you shouldn’t probe into people’s love lives in the first place, especially those who are obviously unattached. However, that response is rooted in my insecurities, and dating is such a huge part in the lives of twenty-year-olds, that it’d be silly to expect that I won’t have to talk about it. Besides, what else is my aunt going to ask me? What I’m planning on doing after graduation? (I changed my mind, I will tell her everything about my love life).

No, what I’m here to rant about is actually the “Well being single is better anyway!” part of the conversation. The number of times I’ve read “7 ways to enjoy the single life” (or its variations: “8 reasons why you don’t need a man”, “6 tips on taking advantage of having no significant other”) is staggering. Unfortunately, the insecure part of myself insists on clicking on these “articles” (and I use that word as loosely as one would associate “actor” with Charlie Sheen), which always leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

“You learn more about yourself when you’re single!” “You don’t have to share your food!” Wow, what wonderful insights! Now let me redirect you to “5 best things about dating,” including “You learn so much about yourself,” and “You have someone to share your food with!”

These articles exist to prop up the image of the fun seeking IDGAF bachelor(ette). They are ineffective because trying to value one relationship status over another is neither here nor there.

There’s inherent value in being unattached. There’s also inherent value in relationships. And you don’t need a listicle on Upworthy to tell you that.

And when we spend time forcefully idealizing this single life, please keep in mind that it is objectively not good for your health if you spend consecutive days lying on your bed watching Netflix and eating a tub of ice cream. By laughing with these stereotypical portrayals of what single people do, we’re encouraging this kind of behavior. If you’re going to indulge in these pleasures, as I do, at least be self-aware. I know my future 300-pound self is going to look back on my binge-eating single nights and say, “What the hell is wrong with you, you pig faced dweeb?”

The problem isn’t that you’re single. It’s that you are insecure about being single. A few years ago, I wrote an article about celebrating Valentine’s Day as a single pringle. I talked about the importance of showing your love for your family and friends. At the time, I was too self-involved to realize, “Hey, maybe not every day has to be applicable to me.” Of all 365 days of the year, is Valentine’s Day the day I must insist on commemorating camaraderie and companionship? Because you know what? There’s a day to celebrate your mother, father, and siblings. There’s also a day to celebrate your friends (Friendship Day is on August 7th).

If you’re single, don’t be ashamed of it. You don’t need to make self-deprecating jokes about not having somebody. There’s nothing wrong or funny about being a lone cat lady if that’s who you want to be. Besides, you’d be drowning in pussy.

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By: Sasha Dhesi

Sex work isn’t something you would traditionally associate with a university campus. More often than not, sex work is considered a “dirty” way of making quick money. However, evidence has shown that in places like the UK, approximately 3-4 percent of students do sex work to pay for tuition. The same study found that a majority of students are aware that some of their classmates use sex work to pay fees, and that most understand the sentiment behind those who work in the sex industry. When asked why they believed people go into sex work, most students cited financial need, sexuality and personal situations as the main reasons. But despite its unspoken prevalence, there are very still very few discussions of sex work on campus, especially at McMaster and other Canadian universities.

What exactly is sex work? According to the World Health Organization, sex work is defined simply as “the provision of sexual services in exchange for money or goods.” This broad definition includes services such as stripping, escorting, pornographers, sugar babies (see page 8) and so on. These jobs are notorious for their high pay — local escorting agency Platinum Models charges up to $300 per hour in Hamilton, and $350 per hour in Toronto. With high pay and low hours, it isn’t difficult to see why sex work would be attractive to a student with a full course load when OSAP money doesn’t come through.

If one wanted to learn more about sex work, the most logical person to ask would be a sex worker. I recently had the pleasure of interviewing former escort, August, a student here at McMaster who quit his work a few weeks ago. August worked as a gay escort on his own for about a year half, working full force — a minimum of three people a week.

I could probably pay my tuition off in about two weeks.

How did you get involved in escorting?

When I turned 19, my friends took me to the casino for the first time. Before this, I never did anything of that sort. After being introduced to the casino, I spiraled out of control. I’d sneak out at night with my mom’s credit card, $10 or $20 – just anything I could get my hands on, trying to win something. It got to the point where I got fired from my actual job and spent all my savings. I realized that I needed a way to fuel my addiction. So I asked a friend who’d worked as an escort through an agency. I posted an ad online and received a lot of feedback, and met up with my first client.

Could you describe your first experience?

To be honest, I don’t remember it very well. What I do remember is how easy it came to me, almost second nature. I didn’t feel like I was faking it. It blew my mind at how much money I’d made, like “oh my god, I made $500 for something I’d do for free.” The guy was good-looking too! Most of the guys I met up with were attractive, older men in their 30s and 40s. Since I wasn’t working through an agency, I was never obligated to service someone I didn’t want to. From there, I was able to fuel my addiction even more. At the time, I knew I was out of control and damaging myself, but while I was gambling and escorting I didn’t think about it.

How much would you make?

In a good week, I would make $3000. A bad week, around $2000. I could probably pay my tuition off in about two weeks. In total, I made about $85,000. I spent almost of all of it at the casino – I currently have about $700 in my bank account.

You mentioned earlier that your clients were older gentlemen. What were they like?

Because I wasn’t going through an agency, I was able to personally screen my clients. We would usually talk for about a day, find out any commonalities, and then meet the next day. It was never a straight hook-up. We’d usually go out for dinner or drinks. It was kind of like a little fantasy, almost like being famous. I personally would never go out for $100 seafood, but if this guy wanted to pay for that and pay for my company, why not? The meetings were always a “starter” at the restaurant, “entrée” of getting drinks, and “dessert” when we go back to the hotel room. I was usually with these men for about three hours. The actual sex was mostly foreplay. I only had penetrative sex once, actually. I made it very clear what I would and wouldn’t do, and never had to do anything I wasn’t comfortable doing.

What would you say was your scariest encounter?

This one time two months ago, a guy picked me up in his pickup truck. He looked nothing like his photos and I was scared. Before we got onto the highway I asked him to stop at the bank. As soon as he stopped the car, I ran all the way home. He chased me until I got into the bushes and lost him. Since he’d given me half the money he began harassing me online and I had to block him on everything.

So how were you usually paid?

Always cash! I made the mistake of accepting a cheque early on and had to go through the horrors of a cheque bouncing. Since I had just started, I had no money in my account and was in the negatives for about a month. I used scare tactics (“I have a pimp, I’m not messing around”) to get the guy to actually pay me. So, since then, it’s strictly been cash.

Did you know any other escorts? A sort of community? Any safeguards?

It was just me, on my own. I would give my friend the name of my client and the address of where we were going, but little else.

Are there any differences between escorting as a gay man versus a straight woman, the more common narrative in this line of work?

Oh, definitely. Being a gay escort is very competitive, and tends to be very niche. Since I’m younger and slimmer, I would only attract those who are into that certain look. For women, the general consensus is to be thin. I was what they call a “twink” — slim, hairless, young-looking. There’s also a pervasive fear as a gay escort that the client is actually a homophobe who wants to kill you — a fear that women may not have.

So what finally made you stop?

Well, someone got in a fight with my mom and told her that her son is online and an escort. My mom didn’t even know that I’m gay, so you can imagine how shocking it was for her to find out that I was a gay escort as well. What scared me more than anything was learning that people I knew were aware of my work, and that my private life was now public. Whoever exposed me was most likely a friend, someone who talked to me everyday. It ended up being a wake up call and I figured it was time to stop. I haven’t escorted since December.

Being a gay escort is very competitive, and tends to be very niche.

Sex work is nuanced. People get into it for a myriad of reasons. Some, like the infamous Sasha Grey, got into it out of a desire for a career in the industry. Some, like August, saw it as a way to fuel their addiction. Ultimately, it is unfair to paint the industry and its participants’ motives with a broad brush. Before we can come to any sort of consensus to the morality and ethics of sex work, we should probably talk to those whom it actually affects: sex workers.

*Name changed for privacy

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