I am a 31-year-old straight female. My boyfriend and I have awesome sex. The only problem is that I ejaculate profusely.
Those squirting scenes in porn are nothing compared to the juices expelled by my vagina. Towels, sheets, mattress cover must be washed after each sexual act since it’s as if one to sometimes two full giant glasses of stinky water are poured.
It’s getting quite costly to wash them that often. There are only so many times we want to do it outside of bed, and we’d like to salvage our respective mattresses. I’ve never been ejaculating that much in my lifetime except during my teenage years of masturbation. I guess he hits the right spots, but, boy, are they not only wet but inundated. Any tips to keep our sheets from discoloration and our mattresses from becoming smelly trash?
I’ve always recommended Luv Linen for everyone’s copious-ejaculation needs (karecore.com). You just throw one (or a couple, depending on the force of your trajectory) down underneath yourself and you’re good to go. I dumped an entire 1.5-litre bottle of water on one and it was absorbed, no problem. The only caveat: after you wash them, don’t put them in the dryer, because it compromises their effectiveness.
Don’t be confused when you visit the website and think you’ve been redirected to a mommy blog or one of those ambiguous spiritual groups. The company has always positioned itself as good, clean and wholesome – not an unusual tactic in sex product marketing, especially by companies in states that are a bit conservative targeting the good, clean, wholesome crowd that’s afraid sex products in the house conjure Satan.
Over the past couple of years, though, Luv Linen has really stepped up its humanitarian message. Owner Karen Fowler is leaping into philanthropy in that vague, “let’s get together and make the world a better place for the kids” way with lots of pages about spirit and talent “coming soon.” If you can get past the vague and gratuitous altruism, she makes a great product.
My friend Jess Dobkin is one of my favourite artists. I was entranced with a multimedia piece she did several years ago called Lactation Station, in which she created a sommelier-style tasting event around the breast milk of half a dozen women. She sharpens pencils with her vagina. She dresses like Kermit the Frog and a disco ball. She’s got that whole Yoko Ono thing going on where once you become open to the messages in her work, you feel the pleasure and privilege of someone’s commitment to sharing vulnerability and to the healing power of silliness.
Jess is curating a series of performances for FADO Performance Art Centre called Commitment Issues. Today we talked about the subject, the performances and the fact that the event takes place in Oasis Aqualounge, which on most other days is an upscale downtown retreat for swingers.
“I’m working on a lot of different ideas,” she says. “I’m interested in ideas of commitment that go above and beyond typical associations. I’m looking at definitions and values of commitment. Typically, it’s being discussed in terms of partnership, and I feel with this particular framing, we lose the legacy of queer community, where commitment is defined in terms of social and political engagement – things like imagined family, which now doesn’t line up with this more normative idea of commitment. Gay men have always known about commitment it just hasn’t been about marriage.”
(It’s closed now, but Studio 180’s brilliant production of Larry Kramer’s The Normal Heart reflects Dobkin’s statement well.)
Pieces include Toronto-based dancer Alicia Grant performing in the heated outdoor pool with a choir accompanying her movement. Jess uses the word “witchy” to describe the feel of this work, as though Grant will be summoning spirits.
Mary Coble is coming from Denmark to stage a three-hour towel fight in the locker room with a local community member she has never met. The piece includes audio that feeds to other rooms in the club so that their efforts are heard throughout the space.
Dancer and performer Heather Cassils takes over the steam room with a large block of ice carved to her chest. While her brother, opera singer Matthew Cassils sings, she melts it with the heat of her own spectacularly sculpted body and the steam.
Dana Michel performs a dance in the hot tub that encompasses a series of repetitive gestures that idolate her neck.
“The neck is a point of tremendous vulnerability,” says Jess, who feels the drawn-out, repetitive nature of the piece has a shamanic quality to it. “It’s where it connects mind and body. It is a place of fragility, power and grace.
“I’m also looking at bringing performance to different spaces, spaces where people have a lot of agency,” like the Aqualounge, where straightish couples come to explore and enhance their own commitment.
This is not to say that people will be forced to engage with performers. Don’t panic – you won’t be pulled into a dance piece or asked to hold something moist and bloody. You can watch performance while you are having a schvitz or taking a swim or having a drink. Or hanging out with your friends and lovers and curious strangers on sofas, naked, clothed, in bathing gear – whatever suits your own comfort level.
Jess has found people’s trepidation around the space itself an interesting reflection on what it means to commit. It often requires an act of faith, and it seems people worry that there is a certain code that will leave them feeling inadequate or vulnerable.
I personally think it’s worth taking the leap to be part of what promises to be a profound ceremony of dedication in all its varying incarnations.
Commitment Issues, featuring six performances, takes place Wednesday (November 16), 7-10 pm at Oasis Aqualounge, 231 Mutual. 19+. $15, stu/srs/underemployed $12.
Artists process the event November 17, 7:30 pm, at a free panel discussion/reception at Helen Gardiner Phelan Playhouse, 79 St. George.