The Socially Anxious Nymphomaniac Goes On A Date

Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I, Valerie Bane, went on a date last night. Finally breaking my months-long streak of flirting with guys via text message, then dropping off the face of the Earth as soon as they actually ask me out.

Anyway, THIS date was an act precipitated partly by boredom, partly by desperation, partly by an incredibly stern talking-to I got via email, wherein I attempted to define myself as “idealistically picky” and she countered with “naively delusional."

Some of the things she said did strike me as being uncomfortably near the truth. I can’t spend my life lying around in my room imagining that Zeus will magically descend to me through my tower window in a thrilling golden shower. I can’t spoil myself for REAL boys, who breathe and smell and sweat, by continuously picturing chiseled gods of sex and darkness who always know what to do in bed because they can literally read my mind. I can’t keep taking these extended leave of absences from reality. So I said yes to someone who, on the minus side, I am not massively attracted to…but who, on the plus side, is a living, breathing human male.

I’ll give it to Real Boy: he tried so hard to do all the right things. In fact, he seemed to think it was necessary to check with me before doing ANYTHING. When I asked him where we were going, he said, “Where do you feel like going?” When we finished dinner, he said, “What would you like to do now?” When he walked me to my door, he said, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Gentlemen, a note: If you want to sweep a girl off her feet, DO NOT PUT THE BURDEN OF EVERY SINGLE DECISION ON HER SHOULDERS! Especially not on the first date! I don’t want to be treated with kid gloves when I’m languishing for you to pin me to the nearest wall and ravish me properly!

I digress. Real Boy was a decent kisser, and by decent, I mean it didn’t hurt. I realized I’d forgotten just how much the other person’s nose can get in the way, and I remembered how much the smell of cologne irks me (seriously, boys, just don’t). I extricated myself from him as gently as possible when he started groping towards second base, and closed my door in his nice face. Then I went to my room and had an incredible orgasm as I pictured getting kidnapped by a fallen angel who traded his soul to Lucifer because of his insatiable lust for a human girl named Valerie Bane…

Fantasy: one, Reality: zero. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, real world. If you need me, I’ll be in my head.

Living in My Head

Twice in the last two days I have found myself driving in a mental state of complete disorientation. I nearly drove into traffic down a one way street in Santa Monica after a meditation class. Then, I made a bad U-turn into on coming traffic and nearly biffed. What a space cadet. Gotta watch what I'm doing.

I have a hard time "waking up" and "becoming mindful" and not "living in my head." The world is often a disappointing boring, uncomfortable place. Conversely, the dreamworld that I spend so much of my time living in is often safe and exiting . . . at least momentarily. For me, giving up "attachments" means giving up attachments to mental phenomenon, sexual and romantic fantasies, and other projections that dominate my thoughts like a heroin addiction.

I'm 22 and a virgin. My aunt told me I needed to go to Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous because she read that some girls can get addicted to 50 Shades-style romance fiction at the expense of forming real relationships. Thank for the tip, Auntie May.

I am disappointed with the people around me. I feel in constant danger of my life becoming overrun by ordinary, dull, petty concerns. I was weak and unfocused as a teen and a college student. I wasted the time I had. Now I feel like the buzzer has gone off and I'm working on borrowed time. Isn't it time I grew up? My god I'm depressed.

Is it any wonder I like to linger in the bathtub, lost in day dreams and hallucinations? You would too if you were me.

She-Devil

Sometimes I feel like a little devil who others would prefer to keep quiet.

So I drew this tonight...

Untitled Sonnet #17

Of lowest creatures we pretend disgust,
So that our hidden wound may never spread,
Revealing bloated meat and bony thrust,
Or slip from eager mouth the mask of dread.
But you with lips shut tight in nettled smile,
Who feed us lies with all too vestal slop,
And make a sty where angels would beguile,
And drive the pig to slaughter with your crop:
You who would slice the shadow’s boneless ham,
Displayed and glazed with honey o’er the fat,
And 'round that cut would wrap your prim madame,
And fling the scraps in allies for the rats:
  Pity yourself, and watch this glutton be,
  To eat raw flesh, beside herself with glee.


By Valerie Bane

The Multiple Self

It has always felt to me that I am more than one person.  I feel the energy of a multiplicity of selves coursing through me, some taking center stage and others lingering in the shadows, depending on the context.  I'm one person with my family, another person at work.  I'm considered "painfully shy" by some friends, and an "online exhibitionist" by others.  Sometimes I feel these multiple selves fighting with each other, and at other times one self reassures and comforts another.  Sometimes my selves sit together on the bed, couch or floor, peacefully coexisting like several sleepy cats in  the home of a shut-in.

No painter has better captured the feeling of having multiple selves better than Korin Faught.  Here is a sample of her work.

Constellation - Korin Faught

Korin Faught

Stairwell - Korin Faught

The Rules Of The Game

So today I was told that in order to be part of this "Her Crooked House" project, I had to follow certain "parameters."  Apparently, certain members of the group thought they needed to make clear to me that "your blog can't just be about sex, and it can't just be about YOU."

Needless to say, I was upset by this comment.  While it is true that my earlier (anonymous) tumblr blog was about "an orgasm a day," this blog is NOT exclusively about sex and it's not just "about me."  I haven't written about the others in the group because...there's nothing to write about yet!  We have no house, so there is no "Crooked House" project to write about.  Half the members I haven't even MET yet.  Right now its all theoretical.

And if each of our six blogs isn't about personal expression, what's the point?  Frankly, if this whole game we are playing is going to be about a lot of rules and censorship, I don't think I can be a part of it.

I'm sorry, but that's just how I feel.

P.S. (6/20) Okay, perhaps I was just a teensy weensy bit psychotic with that post.  I have since come to my senses.  From here on in, I will focus more on art and poetry and less on so-called "adult" content.  The sensitive young minds of our potential readers will NOT be corrupted by my more salacious musings.  :)

Joy and Confidence

I'm passing on some great advice for the day...

"Confidence and joy.
It’s not about orgasm
Pay attention to your partner
and Enjoy the sex you’re having.
That’s really all the sex advice I have to offer.
Oh, and also lube. Especially silicone lube. But that’s really it."

Emily Nagoski

Erotica - Advice for beginners.

My friends know that I have a passion for writing and consuming erotica in my journals - erotica in the form of stories, poems and drawings.  Any sexual fantasy worth having is worth writing down. However, if you want to write erotica that people other than just you can read and enjoy, you must take a less self-indulgent approach. Here is a great post for anyone who wants to learn how to write erotica...

How to Write Erotica: Some Advice & Resources for Beginners

Hedonic Philanthropy

I love the term "hedonic philanthropist." In the old days, they just called us sluts. ;)

Originally published on Eros Blog:

As I write these words, one respectable estimate puts the number of Internet users at two billion globally. That’s a lot of people, and if you make art, some of them will find you,. With numbers like that, there’s philanthropic magic in the math.

About anything you might create, you might think, “Well, it’s a strange thing and maybe not that many people are into it, and of those, not that many people will find it.” And maybe both of those propositions are true. Suppose your thing will only appeal to or give pleasure to one person out of a hundred. And suppose you’re not that easy to find, even if you optimize search terms for people who want to see the sort of thing you’re into, so only one person in 500 who wants to find your art will find it over the entire life of your site or posting or whatever where you present it.

Well, if you assume two billion Internet users worldwide and do the math, what do you find? That there are 40,000 people in the world whose day you’ll brighten up, at least a little. You could almost fill Wrigley Field with smiling folks (which is more than can be said for thebaseball team that plays there these days).

Suppose that creating a single work of art costs $200.00, whether in artist’s commission fees, the monetized opportunity cost of your time, or what have you. (And you can do something pretty nice for $200, in my experience.) Divide that $200 by 40,000 people and it works out to half a cent per person. How many other forms of pleasure can you buy for that little? In philanthropic terms that sounds like a tremendous bargain to me.

And it’s yours for the taking…

Redheads Like Sex More Than You Do

I first noticed it when I was three or four. "She has such beautiful hair!" chirped mothers at play dates, old ladies at supermarkets, and creepy men loitering on sidewalks. Often people felt compelled reach out and touch my hair, as if to check if it were real. They didn't seem to see me so much as they were spellbound by my tangle copper crown.

By the time I was 14 I noticed both boys and men staring at me in a different way. My red hair, emerald eyes and alabaster skin had made me a kind of fetish object. I remember waiting in line at Starbucks wearing my high school volleyball uniform, and overhearing two middle aged businessmen snicker behind me, "I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes."

"Red stands for passion and when a man sees a redhead he will think he is dealing with a woman who won't mess around, and gets straight to the point when it comes to sex." Or so said a German researcher back in 2006 (See the article here), which is coincidentally the year I first started having sex. His study showed that redheads statistically have more sex than blondes or brunettes.

Now anyone who knows me would agree that my libido is higher than average and my hair is bright copper red, but are the two really linked? Some have suggested that red hair (and high libido) is linked to the Neanderthals. (See article here). Redheads also, apparently need more anesthetic during surgery...but I stray off topic. I know that I became aware of my sexuality and the power it conferred at a young age, and that by age twelve I already had an extremely vivid and orgasmic fantasy life, even though none of my friends did. I was never sexually abused by an adult, but I can't help wondering if all the male attention triggered my sexual response in a way that was different from other girls.

So, to put a fine point on the question, is my innate horniness really a genetic difference linked to my red hair or is it the result of societal conditioning - the expectations of a society that equates the color red with sex? Statistics on online dating sites show that "Men with red hair are less likely to get responses than those with other colored hair." (See article here) Which suggests that men and women feel differently about the sexual attractiveness of red hair. I wonder if anyone has done a study of the libidos of redheaded men?

I think (based on no scientific data other than my own limited experience) that redheads of both sexes have higher sex drives but to men that higher sex drive is exotic and exciting (statistically speaking) while to women a higher sex drive is neither more or less exciting (statistically speaking). I'd even go so far as to say that for women red hair (like a balding head) is just not as aesthetically pleasing to a majority of women.

But in general, yes, I think fiery redheads are hornier than blondes or brunettes.  :)

Photograph by Leland Coleman