By Kelly
McClure and Ben Johnson
For no
reason whatsoever, we are co-interviewing each other about aspects of each
others' sexuality this week.
BEN: I’m 35
years old and at the point in my life where I’m no longer even particularly
interested in my own sexuality, not to mention somebody else’s. As far as its
actual role in my life, sexuality is just various feelings and various human
skin parts slapping around all willy nilly, either a distraction from or a part
of all the things I care most about in my life, which at this point mostly
boils down to “I hope today is nice.” So I really have no fucking clue what to
ask a lesbian about. I’m not really curious about any particular lesbian thing.
Kelly, you’re a lesbian. Are there more cat lesbians or dog lesbians?
KELLY: First of all, I'm super pleased with myself that I was able to instantly
recall your email and password to get into this draft. I have a Total Recall
memory when it comes to potentially snoopy things, and it's for that reason
that I myself, at 37 years of age, am extremely interested in both my own
sexuality, and that of others. I guess it's kind of funny when you think about
it because although I don't care about people per se, as like, people, I
definitely care about their sex weirdness, and what the penis or vag of the
last person they slept with looked like. I will text people I barely know to
ask them very personal questions about their sex things, and to be polite,
I'll usually kick it off with "I know this is weird, but ..."
I think it's super fun, and sometimes funny to be a lesbo, so I'm happy to
answer your questions. When approaching this particular question of whether or
not there are more cat or dog lesbians, I think you have to start with figuring
out which has the more lesbo characteristics. Not to pigeon hole, which is a
very non-lesbo thing to do, even though the word "hole" is right
there, which is a pretty lesbo word, cats are the more girly of the two in that
they will always just do whatever they want, unless they think that doing
something not only for themselves will result in a reward of some sort, for
themselves. Dogs are more like, "Oh, I'm just over here thinking about
nothing, doing some manual labor, and then maybe also wanting to hump this
coffee table." Which is pretty dude like, from my perspective. So based on
those facts, I'd say that there are more cat lesbians. Oh, and the alternate
word for "cat" is "pussy" which is the most lesbo word of
all. So there you go.
Okay, so here's my first question for you: Since you have a penis, which is
basically like a flesh tube, would you say that when you "you know"
it feels kind of like a sneeze?
BEN: You're asking me if jazzing feels like my penis is sneezing? That is an
incredible question. That is a strange and difficult and wonderful question.
The answer to it is no. Ejaculating does not feel like your penis is sneezing,
per se. The most sneeze-like aspect of it is "oh shit, my body is about to
spray something gross, I better figure out where to do that," but you're
also experiencing an orgasm at the time, so your brain is just like "Not
where babies grow! Not where babies grow! Ahhh! Ahhh!" and then that's
about as far as you really think about it. I mean obviously you're not gonna
jazz on like a Fabergé egg or recently varnished table, but you know
what I mean. There's a little less consideration involved, because you're like
naked and orgasming and you're presumably in some kind of a privacy situation.
Also there is some concern about "what kind of noise am I going to
make?" but not really all that much. Wait. Maybe it is basically like
sneezing. Out of your penis. Behind closed doors, naked, unselfconsciously, while
orgasming, with only you or a close friend nearby.
Maybe it is LIKE sneezing, but it doesn't FEEL like sneezing. It feels like
having an orgasm, popping a rad zit ("yeahhh"), and spilling
something when you're shitfaced drunk ("oops but whatever"), all at
the same time. Physically, I guess the part where stuff comes out of your penis
feels like a small but not disagreeable urgent shit coming out of your pee
hole, but it's so wrapped up in just what it feels like to have an orgasm that
you don't think "oh weird, I'm shitting out of my pee hole!" Like
women shit during child birth, but it's not like "it felt like I was
shitting while having a baby." There's just a lot going on down there at
once, it's hard to separate things in a way that's explainable to a person who
doesn't have those parts, especially since you don't really have to.
In retrospect, cat or dog lesbians was an extremely lame question.
As a gay person, do you feel social pressure to, say, watch musicals, or other
things you actually fucking hate but must nevertheless tolerate simply because
of your gayness? I mean, I'm sure the answer is yes because the answer is yes
for everybody who ever wants to get laid in their lives regardless of gayness,
but like what specific gay-type things have you found yourself forced to
participate in and/or have an opinion on?
KELLY: I
think that's probably the best description of a male jizz jazz that I've ever
had to process. I can't really imagine what it would be like to have a goo
shoot out of my body as the end punctuation of every sex act. What kind of face
are you supposed to make when that happens? I'm picturing like a "TA
DA!" type face/arm movements combo. To be fair, once in a blue moon a goo
will shoot out of a vag at the moment of climax but it's usually quickly
followed by some sort of "Oh my god. That just happened. Are we okay with
how that just happened?" exchange.
A lot of
stuff goes along with being a homo, and musicals, thank god, land more on the
male homo plate. Gay men are supposed to love musicals, hair products,
decorating, and scarves. Gay women are supposed to love flannel, crafts, cats,
and being cheap. The cheap stereotype is something I personally resent and
fight against. I tip 50% on most drinks when I go out, so don't lay that garbage
on me. I definitely find myself doing a lot of stereotypical lesbian things
like wearing chunky shoes and putting my fingers in vaginas, but I feel like a
lot of lesbians would think I was a bad lesbian because I don't really recycle,
I don't shop at co-ops, I don't own an acoustic guitar, etc. Living in Olympia
for six months basically taught me that I'm doing it all wrong. So I give up.
So here's
an important question. On a scale of 1-10 how afraid are you on a daily basis
of catching your junk in your zipper? If I had a penis I would only wear pull
up pants or sweatpants for fear of that happening. Sometimes a pube will catch
in the fabric of my underwear and I'll get tears in my eyes. So I can't even
imagine the horror that lurks behind every zip of your jeans.
BEN: I
don't make a TA DA face. I make a "thank you for letting me do this
disgusting thing to you which I nonetheless enjoy" face.
It's so
weird that there's such a thing as being a "bad lesbian" for reasons
other than being a "bad human being." Nobody's going to call me a
"bad straight guy." I guess that's because language itself is tilted
in my favor and therefore that's what the word "asshole" means.
Your
questions are very anatomical. Dick in the zipper is a fear, but not like a
wake up at night fear. It's also functionally dependent on nuances of unseen
variables like subtle engineering of zipper position and underwear shape, so
that a majority of situations are not even applicable to dick in the zipper.
Like do you ever worry about getting your tits caught in your jacket zipper?
Only if you were not wearing a bra or a shirt and you had a weird jacket with
big sharp zipper teeth that zipped more to the side in the tits-in-a-zipper
zone. And even then you'd be like "I'll be fine if I just go slow and, you
know, be conscious of not zipping this jacket where my tits are."
The
following situations are alert-worthy: another person has control of your dick
and/or your dick-access zipper, which is probably a net positive even if it's a
little spooky and there ends up being a little actual penis-on-zipper scraping
(men, as a general rule, will agree to temporarily endure all nature of things
while having their penises touched); I used to have a pair of boxers that I
only wore in emergency laundry situations where the boxers fly was creased open
so I was dealing with constant male wedgies (where under your pants your dick
is out but nobody knows because you're wearing pants), and those were some very
careful zips; you are shit-assed drunk and getting your dick caught in your
zipper is just something that happens to you instead of breaking your arm
falling off a statue.
I'll try to
ask an anatomical question, I guess. Are there some lesbos who get a sexual
reputation like "look out for Deb, she's especially rough on your
vag" and other lesbos who are like "oh good, that's a good match for
me?" Because I routinely feel guilty for doing anything more aggressive to
a vagina than gently sing it lullabies.
KELLY:
While reading your zipper stories I thought about one of many times my mom
managed to zip my neck flesh into my snowsuit when I was little. I think maybe
she did it on purpose, it happened that frequently. Maybe this is bringing out
some just beneath the surface zipper hangups I have. Like I want to warn all of
my friends and loved ones to watch out for their zippers.
I've worn
zip up hoodies over my naked boobs a few times. Usually in instances like
"Oh shit, I'm not fully dressed and the UPS guy just rang the bell."
It's not a very comfortable feeling. I can't think of an instance where I'd
catch a nip in the zip. Maybe if I accidentally died mid-zip. Or if someone ran
from another room and knocked me down mid zip. Velcro scares me too now that I
think of it. I guess I'm afraid of clothes. This is taking me to a weird place
in my brain.
I have an
immediate mental story that came to mind upon reading your question that I
can't fully go into, but yes. I had casual relations with a girl for a brief
period of time in Chicago who more or less would just punch my vagina. I've
never encountered anyone else who came at a vag in such a violent, but well
intended way. I have to say that I did enjoy it to a certain extent, and if I
knew of someone who was in the market for a vag pummeling, I'd refer this girl
for sure. There are definitely ways to determine whether or not you're gonna be
getting a single scoop vanilla cone, or a hot fudge sundae with all the
toppings type sex situation from a person, and these will get tossed around in
conversation in "the community." Slapping gets brought up a lot. I've
heard multiple stories about how someone was weirded out by the idea of
slapping/getting slapped, and this was used as an indicator for how bland or
not bland their sex was. In an alternate universe where I wasn't married and
was looking to date someone, if I heard that a particular someone was
completely 100% opposed to slapping a face in a sexy way, I'd probably be less
inclined to pursue a sex thing with them because it just negates so many
things. I like a "can do" attitude, and I think most other women do
as well.
Okay,
here's a non anatomical question. This is purely a straight white male
question. Do you find yourself, in general, being nicer to women who you find
attractive, as opposed to those you don't? Even just subconsciously?
BEN: A
certain portion of lesbians are out there slapping each other during sex. I had
no idea. That is the freshest information in this whole thing from my
standpoint.
I've been
noticing and paying careful attention to the whole thing about who I'm nice to
recently. My gut reaction is that no I am not nicer to women I find attractive,
but of course that's bullshit. I tend to get a very "fuck you"
attitude to women who I perceive as acting like I'm supposed to feel more
attracted to them than I actually am, but that's not the same thing as what you
asked. I also tend to have a "oh shit, no, no I don't need this"
attitude towards women who I actually am attracted to who are not my
girlfriend, because I am just not at all interested in doing the emotional
paperwork which is necessary when you find yourself really enjoying a
conversation with a woman you're attracted to who is not your girlfriend.
Basically, if I think you're a drop dead stunner, you're going to have to
physically stop me on the street and ask me what time it is before I'll start
talking to you on purpose. That's got nothing to do with the other person's
merits as a human, it's just based on self-awareness of my own juvenile
emotional state.
But on a
regular, way-that-strangers-interact level, I do try to make a conscious effort
not to ignore women who I do not find attractive. Like I try to hold doors open
equal opportunity instead of "you can go, you can go, you're on your own,
uggo," and get out of people's way equal opportunity so that I'm never
like "oops sorry, I didn't even realize you exist because no thanks on
sex." And this is because I have definitely noticed that women just out in
public who are older or overweight or (for example) black or just kind of not
especially done up tend to be treated like invisible people by non-cretinous
street hassler-type but just regular oblivious human white men. Like I've
noticed my own self do it, and I've noticed other white dudes do it, and it
burns me up with white hot shame every single time. So yeah, I've noticed that
not only myself and other straight white guys do it, I've noticed that the
whole world, essentially, does it, and I hate that about myself, other white
dudes, and the world as a whole. It sucks.
Anyhow, I
might be a weird guy to ask because I am most attracted to women who have their
hair in buns and are wearing tennis shoes and jeans and like an old Mickey
Mouse sweatshirt. Like minimal effort-level unselfconscious grocery
store outfits where you're just there to buy guacamole ingredients while
being at least one step of decorum above sweatpants and/or crying. If I see you
in a grocery store wearing that outfit, I'm going to physically turn my body
until you are no longer in my field of vision while making polite chit chat
with a diseased albino schizophrenic woman. That's just how I like to promote
justice.
Also I hate
that I am a total boob-looker. I try to reign it in but it's compulsive. It's
not even sexual. Like I probably peeked at my dead grandmother's chest during
the viewing a couple of years ago. I don't know the fuck why I would do such a
thing, and I don't even remember having done it, I just know that I probaebly
did. If you you think this is something about myself that makes me happy, you
are quite wrong. The only thing I can say in my defense is that breasts are
perfectly located at the exact area where a neurotic person with bad posture is
most likely to look while habitually avoiding eye contact.
Any final
thoughts? FYI, balls are boring. They're just a couple lumps sitting around in
a sweaty sack of hairy skin. We don't need to talk about them.
KELLY: I
think we about covered it. I mean, I'm definitely curious about balls, and have
many more anatomical questions I could ask (ever sit on your penner? Does
it hit the toilet water when you're pooping? Where exactly *is it* when you
have pants on. Like, Under your belt, or??) But I think it's good to leave some
things a mystery.
You? Final
thoughts?
BEN: My
penis (and maybe any penis) is not long enough to sit on or touch toilet water
unless you were like problem solving for "how can I accomplish this"
and contorted yourself specifically to do those two bad idea things, but a
sittable/toiletwater-sized penis sounds like an okay problem to have. Dicks are
usually to the side of and lower than the bottom of a fly, unless erect, in
which case they do a slow "raise your arm over your head for this
mammogram" motion until they are sticking straight up with the tip at or under
the belt buckle area. You are more interested in penises than any straight
woman I have ever met. Penises, like men, are mostly boring and rude.
Final
thought: the comforting thing about lesbians, to me, is that they are women who
I don't feel a primal need to impress. It's nice to have women in the world
with whom men can just talk and hang out, and it's okay for everybody to like
boobs, and nobody's trying to get laid. What I am trying to say is while I get
that not everything is supposed to be "for" me, thanks for being
lesbians anyway, lesbians. Ride majestically into the sunset of your lesbian
lives. We'll be right here, just a-whittlin' on the porch, if you ever want to
stop by and talk about our dicks and balls.
