No Generation Can Own Sex

There are some things in life that really get your goat and last week I discovered a new one. It's a phrase that has the ability to make my blood boil and it goes something a little bit like this:

"My generation invented sex."

 

Now, there are clearly several things that are very wrong with anyone uttering this statement, but first let me contextualise the situation for you...

 

I attended a 'Slut Night', which was a group of women - mainly journalists - all sat in a room discussing the meaning of the word "slut". There were debates as to whether women should or could reclaim the word, the idea of 'slut shaming', the changed meaning of slut, celebrity slut, UKIP and sluts and slutty life experiences. The speakers for the evening were generally aged between 20 and 40 and the age of the audience varied widely beyond that, however I don't want to get hung up on age, although the woman in question who spoke the above sentence seemed to think it was important.

 

She was, by her own admission, living the dream of the sexually liberated 60's. Throughout all of the other talks given, she sat at the back of the room and chuntered and moaned about what these younger speakers were saying. Granted, no one could agree with everything that was being said, but then that's the point of a debate is it not? The problem was how dismissive she was of some people's experiences or understanding of the word "slut", perhaps just because it was different to her own. Under her breath, although loud enough for those sitting near her to hear, she explained how she "despaired at this generation" and our understanding of sex. Ouch.

 

So, although not scheduled to speak, she wangled her way on the bill. After the spiel about her being part of the 60s feminist movement, it was then she said, "My generation invented sex."

 

My palm hit my forehead and I let out a sign in complete, utter, despair and sadness.

 

Now you know the background, which is important, because although this is not a new phrase and people for decades have boasted that they "invented sex dhhaarling", it obviously had a lot to do with the manner, tone and environment in which it was delivered and that is what grates on me and that is why I think it's important not to sweep this under the carpet.

 

If people of one generation can think the experience of any other generation is less important or gives cause to "despair", and it's women judging women in this way, then I can not see how aspects of women's sexual revolution can progress further, because we have such a massive lack of understanding about each other and what sex means to different women from different decades.  

 

The statement is simply incorrect. No one, single generation can claim to have invented sex. They can claim to have discovered new techniques, new science or knowledge around the idea of sex that may make it better or worse, but to brazenly claim you invented it and whatever two people were doing before that involved them rolling around naked together in a state of arousal was something "other", because obviously sex hadn't been invented, is ludicrous.

 

Add to this the fact that it's condescending. By using this phrase you are somehow suggesting that the sex women are having today is less thrilling or incorrect. Shit, ARE WE JUST NOT DOING IT RIGHT?!

 

When something has been invented it is new, it's exciting, you put your own stamp on it. In fact, the woman in question did go on to say "there is nothing new, we did it all before" and that is just outright patronising. Yes, you may have done it before, you may have done it earlier, but every person - I'm speaking female or male, or trans or queer or asexual - has to come to their own conclusion and understanding about sex, what it is and how to do it. Sex is being invented or reinvented every day by every single person experimenting with it in their own manner.

 

A perfect example of how sex has actually been changed, or how one generation has something new or different to deal with is The Internet.

 

For those loved up, sexually liberated lot of the 60s, 70s and even most of the 80s in fact, they didn't have the experience of trying to get their head around how the Internet affected their understanding and exploration of sex. Connecting women globally it gave them access to information and images, some of it good and some of it bad, like never before. Sex on the Internet is an invention and through this invention it has changed the perception of certain sexual attitudes and ideas, such as the idea of slut.

 

It makes me sad that anyone would try to stamp a claim on sex in this way, or try to state that the experience of one decade, era or generation is more important to the movement of women's sexual liberation than another. You may not agree or understand everything that generation does, but it doesn't make it any less important.

 

 I am thankful for the experience of those that grew up experimenting in the 60s. I'm also thankful for the debates that were had in the 80s around Madonna or Boy George on sex and sexuality. I hope, good grief I really hope, that all of the writing, speaking, campaigning, documentary film making that my generation are doing now to ensure a bigger, better, wider understanding of female sexuality, will be of some help to the next generation and that everything new, different or changed that we have had to trial and error, love or loathe, will help them to go on and have better sex.  

 



Switching Off: Not Even A Holiday Can Stop ME!

When I tell people that I work from home, the most common reaction I get is, "Ooh, I couldn't do that. I'd get easily distracted by things to do around the house, or just wouldn't bother getting out of bed 'til late."

Surprisingly, what I've so-far found in my short, work-from-home freelance career is that it's amazingly easy to not be a lazy fucker, especially when you see the state of your bank balance at the end of the month. So, it's not the getting motivated that's the problem, it's the learning when to stop and switch off that I find tougher. There is no home-time bell, no contracted hours, no office manager or building security chap to say, "it's time to stop and go home."

I've been learning and realising that knowing when to stop requires just as much discipline as getting started.

Recently I've had the opportunity to sink my teeth into some meaty articles and I've really enjoyed researching and writing them. As I touched on in a recent post, some days I simply sit and read for work. I can do this for hours before consolidating what's relevant to put into the piece I'm working on. Finally, I've been fully enjoying and loving what I do and I've become more confident too, taking on more and more projects. Apologies, I don't mean to sound smug, I know there are a good many people stuck in jobs they wish they weren't and trust me, I know how that feels. It's taken a lot of "uhm'ing" and "ah'ing" and much soul searching and questioning my career options, before finally getting to this stage and now I'm reluctant to let it go.

Last week the boyfriend and I went on holiday to Fuerteventura. Yes, it was lovely thank you for asking, but I found it hard to stop and relax which I thought was weird and a bit unsettling. I'd been gagging for this holiday before we went away having not taken any real time off since January. There were a whirlwind of deadlines I needed to meet before we caught our flight and it was all go, go, GO! in my little home office. I loved it because it felt like being on press and that's definitely something I miss about not working on staff at a magazine. A bit of pressure never did any journalist any harm.

For the first two/three days of being on holiday, I couldn't relax. My phone was off, there were no emails to check, no press events to go to, articles to write or edit. My only job was to sit. Read (something not work related). Relax. I found that hard at first and it made me anxious, having the total reverse effect of what "a holiday" is designed to do.

A few ice creams and a dune buggy adventure ride around the volcanoes later and I was managing to get into the swing of it. By this time is was Wednesday rolling into Thursday; we were due to fly back on Saturday. Still, I did get some days of R&R, feeling the most tranquil when I was at the beach, floating and swimming in the crystal clear ocean.

Do you know the first thing I did when we got back to the UK though? Correct, I turned on my phone and checked my work email. We hadn't even got to baggage reclaim and it was a Saturday. There was no reason why I couldn't have waited to check until Monday. It was my boyfriend's reaction that possibly prompted me to question my ability to switch off, when he said: "So that's it then? Holiday over?" I felt bad. I'd definitely screwed up the work/life balance on that occasion.

Since being back I've worked until 8pm or 9pm every night and my mind has been ticking over with readings and ideas all the time I'm not sat at my laptop. I know, I know! There will be some people out there thinking, 'Is that it? I work until 2 or 3 in the AM,'. Well, that's fine, but I am definitely more of a lark than an owl. Give me an early, productive start over a late finish any time.

Slipping back into work-mode has been so easy and I've got a whole new set of projects to start now. There are also some interesting looking events I'm going to over the next month, again all work-related, and although I'm excited by them I'm conscious of the fact that a lot of my conversation, socialising and evenings are still me being switched on for work.

Definitely, one of the biggest pitfalls, or toughest things to get right is a life/work balance.

RoseC -x-
 

So, how was it for you?

Last weekend was the end of an era, albeit a fairly short era. Saturday saw me complete my last 12 hour shift working in the sex shop (yes, that's right. I said I worked in a sex shop, now keep up). From here on out, I'll be living on my writing wage alone. It's kind of an experiment and I'm not sure what the results will show, probably one of two things:

1. I CAN SURVIVE AS A WRITER! HURRAH!
2. Damn, I'm broke and need another part time job to supplement my dream job.

As I explained to a friend today, while getting distracted and chatting over Skype, I am both nervous and excited about winging it on a writers wage. She explained that I need to become a Writing Shitting Machine. By this, I/we mean to be able to shit out a lot of writing and get quicker. Definitely need to speed up how long I take to write a feature, but that's a topic for another time. I used to work a lot like that when I was writing/editing Harlot. I just need to re-engage and channel that slightly scared, extremely stressed, always on a frickin' deadline feeling.

Anyway, this post was going to be a bit about what it's like to work in a sex shop. Honestly. Not surprisingly, when I tell people what I do, it's always the part time sex shop work that gets the biggest reaction. Also not surprisingly, people have a lot of questions about what it's like, so I thought I would try to answer some of the most common and popular questions I got asked over the last 18 months here, in a Q&A stylie feature. Enjoy...

SEX SELLS!

Amazing blog site, Straight Out Of Crompton caught up with Rose Crompton, a part time sales assistant in an adult store that's racier than Ann Summers, to discover what all the buzz is about?

Interview and additional words by Rose Crompton

 

How on earth did you end up working in a sex shop?

I forced my way in. Not in a creepy kind of way, but after my job at Scarlet folded and I walked away from Harlot the element I enjoyed most was the sex writing. So, to keep my finger on the pulse - urgh cliché!- I dropped my CV off at a sex shop and pestered the manager until he gave me some hours.

 

Do you get to try all of the toys?

Well Rose, this is a question I get asked a lot and the simple answer is no, not all of them. Geez, I'd be exhausted if I did because there are literally hundreds!

 

But you get a discount?

Oh yeah! I was lucky enough to get a staff discount when I wanted to buy something. It's good because the more you try and use - that's right, I use sex toys me being the modern woman I am - then the more knowledgeable you become about the products, so the better advice you can give to the customer. Sex toys are very intimate things and can cost hundreds of pounds. In the same way you'd expect a camera shop assistant or beauty counter person to be the expert in their field, so do sex shop sales assistants. It's not that different really and when you think about it like that, it kind of takes the fun out of it. Sorry.

 

Ok, ok, so what's the best sex toy?

Hard to say, because sex toys are such intimate items. What works for one person, might not work for another. If I had to be pushed to say something, for women get the Rocks Off RO-80mm. Guys, try a Fleshlight, or Tenga Egg, or simply apply lube. To everything.

 

Do your parents know?

Yes. And all their friends. And most of my family. They're cool with it and often the ones with the most questions (randy devils!).

 

Does your boyfriend mind?

I get a discount, what do you think..?

 

Bet there are loads of weird creepy, pervy guys that come in though?

No, not at all. I mean obviously there's the occasional odd ball, but we're in London so it's to be expected. If by pervy guys you mean the blokes that come in to buy porn or mags then definitely not. Often, these turn out to be the quietest, most polite customers we have.

 

So, what kinds of customers do you get?

All sorts, like literally anyone and everyone. Thankfully there's a lot less stigma attached to walking into a sex shop these days. Some of the most memorable (and lovely) customers I've helped out include a 60+ woman, on holiday from Brazil looking to buy her first vibrator; a post-op trans woman looking for something small; a lesbian couple in need of a firmer dildo (lucky we stock glass) and an endless number of men wanting to "surprise" their partner's with something luxurious and top of the range. Seriously, there is no 'normal' or stereotype you can attribute to what a sex shop shopper is anymore. That makes me happy.

 

Do people have sex in the shop?

Hell no! If they try (only happened once) then they get escorted out. We sell the sexy stuff, but the sexy stuff ain't allowed to happen until you're home!

 

Aren't you embarrassed talking to people about that 'stuff'?

No, not at all. Sex is fun and there's lots to learn and most of us revel in the pleasures it offers us. Nothing to be embarrassed about and most of us do it.

 

Well, that's about it. This was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but I'm more than happy to answer [serious] questions about working in an adult store and sex toys. Leave a comment on the blog, or get me on twitter @RoseC_Leic -x- 

Busy are you? Where's the proof?!

Being a freelance writer is strange. Increasingly as I progress further into my current career I'm finding that I'm always super busy, with lots going on and I do a great amount of writing related work each day, but then at the end of the week when I think back over everything I've done, I ask myself: where is it all?

It's funny really, because I have more to do in a day than is possible to fit into the hours it offers (it's this excuse I'm using for why I've not updated my blog in over a month) and finally I'm getting to a point where I have enough writing work rolling in that I'm able to cover my London living costs. When someone asks me though, "what work have you got on at the moment?" it's sort of difficult to recall, or remember, or show them. It's not like I'm appearing in the printed papers, weeklies or monthlies, or popping up on an endless amount of mainstream blogs or online magazines to justify my increasingly steady income thanks to the world of journalism. Ironically, the largest web e-zine that I contribute to, I do so free of charge and it doesn't effect my earnings at all.

Unfortunately, the brutal reality of it is that a lot of what I do is sort of "background writing" as I like to call it. Copy and content writing that you don't put your name to as a rule. Sure you can use it in a portfolio to show as evidence of different styles of writing, but that's about it and don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking it. So far it has meant I've had the opportunity to work with and write for some really exciting businesses.

It's either that, or I'm writing porn. As much as I'd like to, I'm not the kind of person that when one of my Mom's friends, or my accountant, or a stranger asks me, "where have you recently been published?" to whip out the latest issue of Escort or Adult Sport. Of course I'm proud of the work I do for those titles, but I appreciate it's a niche area of journalism that not everyone wants to see or read. Still, I maintain it's a better level of sex writing than appears in many of the women's glossy lifestyles, but that's an argument for another time.

Writing social media is another funny one too. There are now a couple of companies who's Twitter and Facebook I look after on a daily basis. It's still writing, it's still journalism, but I have to admit that when I was studying my journalism degree, I didn't think it would be such a profitable aspect of my writing career. How times have changed.

Of course, there's also a massive amount of reading and research to be done. If there's one lesson about freelance journalism I've come to learn over the last year, it's that pitching is bloody hard. Trying to get a commissioning editor to take the bait and give you the green light is tough. Rookie journo Rose was trying to knock pitches out every day with just a minimal amount of research to support my idea. Honestly, I look back over some of my early proposals and shake my head. There are some, of course, I maintain are good ideas and editors missed a trick...or oddly enough my ideas appeared in the not so distant future. Blokes Guide To Surviving Sex Shopping was one that coincidentally surfaced. Shame you can't copyright an idea, eh?

The lesson I've learnt though is the more you put in to start with, the more likely your idea will come out of the other end in the form of a printed/published feature and a pay cheque.

Anyway, I suppose I'm typing this to some how appease my conscience that I am, actually, doing enough. There is evidence of this here, here, oh and right over here too. Not to mention I am all over this. And so it continues. Where there are more shiny new PDF's I can add to my website, I shall make sure you're the first to know.

Rose -x-

Feet that could kill a fetish

I have never had a pedicure.

There. I've said it and this is not something I'm proud of now that summer seems to be in full swing and my feet are on display. Lots. Even daily I would say. It's now far too hot for socks.

Usually I'm not so fussed with such tedious beauty regimes as getting my feet scrubbed and toe nails polished, but when I looked down at my pinkies the other day I was horrified by what I saw. I can only apologise to any small children in South London that are naturally closer to the ground, thus nearer to my feet and forced to suffer the horror! Glancing downwards my eyes were greeted by scarred, blistered toes, cracked heals and hair!

Since when did my feet get so hairy?!

Ok, I wouldn't say that I'm hobbit level yet, but there are noticeable long strands of hair on my big toes. Upon examination of my boyfriend's feet I'd say I rival him and I'm yet to see any of my girlfriends with toe-hair as long as mine. (I bet it's not as glossy either...)

Is it acceptable to Immac toes?

Generally I wouldn't care about the state of my feet at all, but I've noticed that the condition of them has become increasingly worse over the last year. This could be down to the many 12 hour shifts I do in the sex shop, or that I've found it harder to give up my favourite pair of trainers and it's not exactly been the weather for flip-flops ("thongs" for my Aussie readers) or sandals until very, very recently.

Last week I dared to wear out a pair of, what I thought were comfortable, sandals. They have a back to them, so no one would be able to see the hideous cracking and dead skin on my heels. Skin that rather than really do anything about, I like to pick at a bit at a time for a good hour or so each night. Sorry. Anyway, I wore these sandals and they only added to my foot strife. They dug in and caused huge blisters on each of my little toes. One of them even bled. They remained open wounds for about three days and now I have matching large scabs on each foot.

At least my new foot design still makes them look like a pair.

I once went to a fetish club (yeah, you're gonna like this story) and a man put the whole of my foot in his mouth. I kid you not, he basically deep-throated it. It was slightly disconcerting, but rather impressive at the same time. I imagine it was nothing like having those little fish nibble at your heals, but I've never done the fish thing before, so I wouldn't know. (Weirder than a stranger sucking your feet or not?) He said that although I had "quite wide feet", he thought they were very lovely.

I tried not to be offended by his obvious distress at my slightly wider feet, because I know that feet with a bit more girth just isn't feminine. I know this because when shoe shopping there are very few nice women's styles tailored for wide fit femmes. Usually I try a pair of attractive new heals - or even trainers for that matter - and my little toes shamefully protrude through the side of the leather.

Two years on and I'm pretty sure that if the chap from the fet club saw my feet again, he wouldn't touch them with a barge pole. Width would be the last of his worries.

So, unless anyone has the spare cash to fly me to a sandy beach for a week - because that's how long it takes for natural sand to sort your feet out...ahem... - I'll be resigning myself to trying to sort the issue myself and whip these little piggy's into shape before the sun sets on summer. Tips welcome!

Finish This Sentence... (not this one though.)

Usually I can't stand people finishing my sentences, but on this occasion I'd really like YOUR help with completing this one:

"During sex I love it when he..."

The aim of the game is simple, finish the above sentence by posting below on my blog, tweeting me @RoseC_Leic, hit me up on my Facebook or email me rose_m_crompton@hotmail.com with your response. Last rule is that this is open to women only. Sorry guys, I'm not doing it to be sexist.

Those of you that know me well will probably have figured out by now that this is for a feature. Well done, gold star for you! :-) It is for a sex article to appear in a top shelf mag. Don't worry, real names can be changed, or it can be left anon if you prefer so if you want to join in, but are worried about where it's being printed, then don't. I'm not out to expose anyone! If you give me a good answer that I decide to use then we can work around the name thing, no worries.

Honest, serious answers only please. This is supposed to be fun, but also give an insight into what different women enjoy during sex.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Rose -x-

The Miserable Month of May

For the last two years May has been an awful month. In 2012 I learnt we were being "kicked out" of our house, right before the Olympics. Money was scarce, stress was high and there were few places that were not rat infested shit holes that I'd actually consider living in. This year May has been rubbish because money has been scarce, my bike got nicked, there's been family sadness and the weather has seriously sucked arse, bar two days.

In conclusion: May can fuck off with itself.

If May were a person, it would be one with a seriously twisted sense of humour.

It's for the above reasons that I've not blogged in a while. Those and when I have had spare time it's been filled with work and deadlines (which is a GOOD thing). A quick update of work as I think it stands is that you can see my interview with a sex toy reviewer in the current issue of Escort magazine; there's mind blowing motorbike facts in issue 16 of Adventure Bike Rider; I'm still doing the events for www.cityplanter.co.uk (despite what the latest byline reads) and am going social media mad with @Harmonystoreuk. Seriously, give us a follow.

Will be off to escape for a little while tomorrow and kiss the Miserable Month of May goodbye up in Edinburgh, where there will be much walking and jollity...and if the forecast stays right, not a lot of rain. Huzzah! After that, normal service will resume with witty blogs, a multitude of sex toy reviews to catch up on and more pitching fun that I can shake a stick at!

Until then, lets look forward to June and what will hopefully be a much more positive month.