It's a T-Shirt! It's a Joke! It's Patriarchy!

It's 1759 hours.  In one minute, I turn off the OPEN sign, lock the door and commence with the final processes of my work day.  "NaNaNa" chirps the door bell, enthusiastically admitting two customers.  Okay, I can do the friendly, upbeat thing once more.

My new customers tell me that they usually shop at Enchanté*, a competitor of ours of whom we have a low opinion.  They continue to tell me how they used to buy Hustler shirts there but they seem to have stopped carrying them.  But *this* shirt (customer points to his chest) they are carrying and isn't it so great?

His shirt says the following: "Just the Tip... I promise."

Nod-and-Smile::Bite-Your-Tongue time has just occurred.  I wish I could just gently (or not so gently) say that I do not find something funny, but I actually like my job and wish to keep it.

In case you are not following, the statement on that shirt is someone with a penis, who wishes to insert it into someone else who is reluctant.  The penis person makes a "promise", that sounds insincere, about inserting only a small amount of the penis in order to coerce the other person into agreement.  This is an enormous, red-flag waving, Holy-Hippopotamus-Stop-Signs assault on the concept of consent.

Consent is a tougher, more complex thing than most people realize.  Understanding it as an answer to a question, is the shortsighted way that our society has boiled down this complex subject into "yes" or "no".

Wait.  Let me say that again.  Consent is more than "yes" or "no".  Seeing it as that is not wrong, per se, but it is the grammar school level of understanding.  Most of us never get education past this point.  The only education I remember past this** was in my first year at college when a group of students put on a skit for us newbies in which one person repeatedly asked for someones water bottle and the other person gave them varying answers including a non-verbal answer.

Oh, so we need to pay attention to non-verbal yeses and nos.  Wow.  How enlightening.  And also, I get what they did there, but most people when facing the situation of deciding whether or not someone is into having sex with them, are not going to think "Ok, is this person treating the sex I want to have like that water bottle?"

If we move our concept of consent from answer to agreement, we change the map.  This is no longer call and response like we did in kindergarten.  This is a conversation, the way adults have.

Whoa, what's that look like when it comes to sex?  Let me illustrate:

Old way
"I like you..." Mmmmphphphmmmlllph <-- kissing etc. ensues leaving participants to feel anything between super happy and super unhappy.

Or, this way that I think people fear when we talk about getting consent:
"Is it okay for me to touch your thigh?"
"Yes."
"Okay" -touches thigh.
"Is it okay for me to kiss your mouth?"
"No."
"Okay."

Not very sexy, eh?  No.  But sex with consent doesn't have to look like a misshapen tangle of partial communications and solitary pleasures, or this stop-and-go action of asking at every juncture.

New way
"I want to touch your thigh and kiss your mouth.  Would that be okay?" "Mmm, I'd love you to touch my thighs, but I don't want to mouth kiss yet. Would you suck on my ear too?"

And we can dress up that conversation with whatever hot scenario stuff we want.  Kinky?  Change it into a command, where someone's non-yes or no response tells you what they want.  The best example of this I have read was from Dossie Easton who mentioned the clever way that someone got their answer by telling the bottom "If you want me to spank you harder, you better get your ass up in the air."  Clever, eh?  No one had to break roles and there is an easy indication of desire based on whether the bottom wiggles his butt higher.

When we become partners in consent like this, each person has to be responsible for their own desire, naming it, being honest about it.  It takes trust and faith that the other person will be honest, with you and themselves.  This is one of the things that makes sex into a seriously adult venture because that is difficult!

I recently said to a teen "what would it be like if all the sex you ever had, you enthusiastically wanted to have?" and it seemed like I had asked him something far more bizarre like, "If you could have lunch with Grover, lamp post or my sneakers, which porpoise would you connive?"  

Learning how to know what we want is often befuddled by expectations of what we are supposed to want and not want, which often conflict.  For those of us who feel this, the time it takes to figure out what is genuinely desired and how to be honest about it with ourselves and our partners... that's a lot!  And that's the beauty of explicitly asking and taking the time to agree -it gives us time to figure out what we want.  We do not have to answer the question right away.  We can think about it because asking the question leaves us with the latitude to create an answer.  For those of us whose wants and desires conflict, we need that time to reconcile these differences.

This means enemy of consent is going too quickly.  Betty Martin advises us to slow down by half at least, and then half again if needed.  Additional time, allows us to feel more fully what is true for us in any given moment, and to build the resolve to name it or ask for change.

Does that mean we have to give up the fantasy of a frenzied fuck?  No!  Because we can agree to have fast, sloppy, button-popping sex ahead of time.  We just have to agree what we're going to do.

When we understand that we are agreeing on what to do together, we leave behind wishy-washy notions of "well, it is okay with me" and "I didn't mind".  After all, who wants to have sex with someone who "didn't mind"?



*Name changed
**Until taking Betty Martin's Like A Pro workshop

Let Me Tell YOU Something

"I think that your vagina is ... your soul.  And if you let that go too easily... {*mumble*mumble*something unintelligible}... but if you really love someone..."

I'm spending a mighty uncomfortable 15 minutes before the store closes being that-retail-clerk-who-can't-tell-her-customer-what-a-putz-he's-being. 

He refers to me too often, pointing out that if we were dating... or if I had my breasts "fixed"... (as he looks pointedly at them) and all the things that lonely women do do not make men love them and all the things men do are terrible... 

But not him.  No.  He loves his wife and loves holding her hand, and running his fingers through her hair, and watching movies while sharing Dr. Pepper.  But she is going through the menopause... and sometimes they have sex and he will give her three orgasms in a row, but it is infrequent now.  Maybe I can talk to her.

Even if I agreed with something this man said, his mansplaining* attitude wrecked any compassion I had for him.  It is rarely okay to talk at an adult.  I realize there are people who miss this point, so, if at any time, you have a confusion about who it is ok to talk at please refer to the chart below:

People to talk at about how great you are vs. everyone else
✓	Friends
✓	Parents
✓	Therapist
✗	Retail clerk

"But, Chutzpahgrrl, I thought that people specifically came to you to talk about sex?"

Yes.  Yes, they do.  But not to talk at me for 15 minutes about how wrong the world is about sex, how you are a much better person in that regard, and not let me talk at all.  I felt like a receptacle, a toilet, a dumping ground that was expected to mirror back how great this guy was for enjoying attributes of his relationship with his wife other than sex, and for recognizing what all other people think, how they behave and what they want.

It would be like going into a clothing shop and going on a tirade to the sales clerk, who is hanging clothing, about how boys wear their pants around their knees.  And how they might think it is cool, but they are so wrong, and it will not get them the kind of attention they want, and you can not understand why they are like that because you enjoy your pants crawling up your butt, and washing them.  And, you know, the soul is in the underwear, and if you show that to just anyone...

Right?  The sales clerk may have an opinion about people wearing pants around their knees but it is not pertinent to whether or not you will be buying a pair of pants, what your particular needs are pants-wise, and by the way, do you have any that fit well around the knees?

Part of what is creepy here is the power of someone's need to completely overtake another person. There are issues with sex in our culture.  It would be foolish to think otherwise.  And we can talk about them if we maintain the humility to know that we can not speak for everyone and we do not know everything.  And too, that we are not better than anyone else.  But trapping someone alone who can not, out of job duty, tell you to take it elsewhere, is scary.

*Mansplaining is when a man has a conversation with a woman and, despite her own steady grasp of the concept at hand (sometimes her own life or experiences) he explains them to her with an attitude of superior correctness.

The Power of Authenticity

If you are good at what you do professionally, especially if you work in customer service, people open up to you.  Probably it is actually part of your job to let them do that even if it is also part of your job to hurry them along so you can go help someone else (a challenging task no matter who you are).

As far as I can tell, the search for connection and authenticity is always on the list for everybody (barring the occasional oddball).  Sometimes we get the chance to feel this with someone.  Sometimes it is mutual.  Sometimes we get to be the person who holds the space for someone else to experience it.  And when we hold that space professionally, it is easy for people to get confused.

Alfred has been bending my ear about sex, kink, polyamory, violet wands, unique vibrators and a variety of travel tales on and off for the past two hours. That is when he gets down to it; he has all of these interests and his wife, whom he loves, does not like any of them.  For those of you just tuning in, kinky man/vanilla* wife is a story I hear so often I could write an anthology that no one would read because all the stories would be the same.  It is a very difficult situation and one for which I have a ton of sympathy.  Despite my current phlegm-tastic state (I have a bad cold) I think he can sense the sympathy.  When he allows me space to talk, I try to get to the crux of his question -the answer to which turns out to be "sit down and flip through the book and see if you want it"- but it takes us close to an hour, through considerations of counseling and coercion, to get there. When he has made his purchase choices he hands me a slip of paper, politely saying that if I have an interest this is his fetlife profile.

Earlier this morning someone talked at me for a few hours, interrupting answers for which he asked, to later say in an email exchange that he liked me.  When I was a stripper, I was pushed into a date with someone who "fell in love with me" only having seen me dance.  Add your story here because I could go on and I bet you have your own example of this.

Maybe we can blame it on privilege, but I would rather say that connecting on an authentic level is so powerful that it is easy to forget that what we experience ourselves may not be true for the person opposite us.

Alfred was really nice.  It sounded like he knew a lot of things and was pretty smart too.  Getting caught up a little in "OmG! Someone likes me!" I considered for a few moments keeping the little slip of paper.  And then there was this thought "What can a man, who is in a difficult marriage and doesn't give me more than 1/16th the air time he takes for himself, to whom I am not attracted, possibly add to my life that I want?"

I came up with nothing.

*vanilla is a term that many people use to indicate sex that is not kinky.  Some people dislike the term because some others use it in a derogatory manner.  Please note: I think vanilla is one of the finest flavors.

The Jerk That Resides in Each of Us

"Oh, this is your first time here!  Do you mind if I tell you a little about us?"

This is our routine with all customers:
Customer new? -----No-----> "Welcome back!"
   |
Yes ----->"Can I tell you a little about us?"

Me: "Well, we've been here for 7 years.  We're very pleasure and education oriented, so everyone who works here is a sex educator--"

Customer: "Sex educator?  Can you teach me some rope ties to use on people?"

Me: "Oh, um... yes.  But if you're really interested in rope bondage techniques I'd recommend <walking to bookshelf> these boo--"

Customer: "Oh, if you're just going to sell me some books, forget it!  I probably have them already.  I thought you said you were a sex educator and could teach me."

Me: "Well, I can.  However, we don't have any rope here at the moment.

<pause>

Me: "So, we're also the only shop in NM that exclusively sells non-toxic sex toys--"

Customer: "Yeah?  Well that's what they say up the street too!"

<Referring to our nearest competitor, a chain megastore that our customers frequently complain about>

Me: "Really? Ah... so all the toys that are made with cancer causing ingredients, we don't carry here..."

Customer: "What do you have in glass?"

Me: "Our glass section is down here."

Customer: "OmiGOD!  Those are so expensive!  I have a friend, he works with glass, so he has all this left over glass all the time.  He could make me anything I want for, like, $5."

Me: "Sounds like a great friend.  Yes, glass is a nice material."

Customer: "All this stuff is so overpriced!  I mean, look at that!  You don't think it cost that much to make it, do you?"

Me: "Well, I guess that's where the retail factor comes in."

Customer: "Yes, Doll.  But really.  These prices are ridiculous.  Oh, what's--?"

Me: "Oh, that's a head tingler.  You push it up and down on your head--"

Customer: "I know what it is! Though, that's not what I'd use it for!  I'd use it on my breasts!" <customer pushes it on and off small protrusions from her shirt> "I was asking, how much is it?"

Me: "Oh, sorry.  It's just on the packaging here..."

Customer: "Cuz it isn't marked on this thing!"

Me: "Yes, I see, but here's the price, $12.95."

Customer: "Well, really, I already have something like it at home."

.....

Customer: "Ha!  I have to get these!  They glow in the dark!"

The customer puts a package of glow in the dark cock rings on the counter.

Me: "Are you all set?  Is this all?"

Customer: "Yeah, although I could spend a lot of time in here!"

Me: "And have you used a cock ring before?"

<Customer gives me an incredulous look>

Customer: "Ah, yeah."

Me: "Oh, okay.  I was just making sure that you didn't need me to print you our guide to cock rings.  And you have a good lube at home you can use with this?  Okay, so your total is $9.98.  Great, can I see your ID with your credit card?"

<While handing me ID>
Customer: "Oh honestly, Doll, if I was going to commit fraud don't you think I'd do it for more than 10 bucks?"

<I see that the names and picture match, John F. Dozetos.*>
Me: "Well, I just had to make sure you're over 18!"

Customer: "Oh, now your playing at flattery!" <Customer appears flattered>

Me: "Okay, here's your package.  I put a cleaning guide in there in case you need to know how to take care of your new friends.  And here's your receipt, Sir."

Customer: "Actually, it's Ma'am."

Me: "Oh, I'm SO sorry.  Ma'am, of course."

Calling her "Sir" really just slipped out, I knew it was wrong when I heard myself say it.  I was probably affected by the misogyny dripping off of her.  Tit for tat is not part of retail, especially in a store that prides itself on being trans friendly; but since I made the mistake, I figure it was only fair since she had mistaken my name for "Doll".

*Name changed, of course.

Holiday Lament of a Customer Service Agent

'Twas an hour before closing, and all through the shop
were vibrators and dildos piled up to the top.
Products were displayed to encourage sex drive,
with hope that some customers soon would arrive.

I, with my box cutter and things to receive,
had plenty to do, things to achieve.

Ding-Dong went the bell, our door opening sound
to warn that an imminent customer was 'round.
"Welcome!" said I, in my most friendly way,
itching to make the biggest sale of the day.

He looked 'round a while, then resettled his cap,
and bustled his way o'er to me at cash/wrap.
"Hello there" he boomed, while eying a price,
"I say, could I ask you a bit of advice?"

"Of course!" I responded, quite eager to please,
though not knowing the question, I'd no guarantees.

"It's my wife!" he exploded, "She's gon' through the change.
She used to be normal but now she is strange.
I married a hot little ticket like you,
but religious and repressed, she had not a clue.

I took her on as my protegée,
with groups and meetings, I got my way.
We had wonderful sex, but not anymore.
It's as though she now thinks of sex as a chore.
You know, you get married and have a whole lot of fun,
having sex left and right, but only when young!
Now I realize that marriage is a lie and a trap.
Having sex later on is huge load of crap!

He went on explaining how awful it was
to have sex so seldom, as "the menopause" does.

"What's that thing that they need?  Sounds like engine?"
I supplied "Estrogen*", not knowing where to begin.
"Yeah, that!" he erupted.  "Do they make it in powder?
I could spike what she eats!" he said even louder.
"She wouldn't know why, but she'd want sex all the time!
Not every few months.  That'd sure be sublime."

He went on a while about his frustration,
his lot in life and great woe of his station.
I counseled myself, as he gibbered and prattled,
as dissonance inside me started a battle.
Drugging someone for sex has such distaste,
but he couldn't leave the store feeling debased.

Consulting my merits, I named them at length:
"On clarity and kindness, now saavy and strength!"
This was a prayer that I sent overhead,
to myself, or a God, either way, I then said:

"That you get by prescription, so your time'd be misspent.
Because of cancer,** you'd want her consent.
For her, you might look into good lubrication.
And envision yourself using fun masturbation.

We have some toys that might be appealing to you
since it's normal to need some excitement in lieu
of intercourse that may not be in your wife's range,
which is normal while all of her sex hormones change."

Excited at the prospect of a toy of his own,
he thanked me for the great understanding I'd shown.
He left on a high note (he bought not a thing),
highlighting his exit, my un-proffered hand he did wring.

"What a great store this is!  I'll be back with my wife!
I'm sure, if you talk, you can help with her strife."
This he yelled through the door, with the lights burning bright,
"I'm so glad I came in!  And to you a good-night!"


*Estrogen is not the only hormone that is in play with menopause.  He didn't know this.
** Hormone replacement therapy can raise the likelihood that someone may get cancer.

Retail Therapy: We Need Some

It was a strange week in the land of retail.  Perhaps it was the cold (yes, it can be cold here in the Southwest) or are we coming up on a full moon?

As a retailer, it is expected that customers be not only forgiven but also remain largely oblivious to their gaffes.  Sometimes though, my cup runeth over and you get to hear the story.

I have three short stories from last week in three acts: confusion, surprise and horror.

Confusion:
A gaggle of somewhat sober, recent graduates take over the store.  Each has to use our "no customers" bathroom in turn.  I smile and run around answering questions for each as they split into groups of two or three to investigate.  At checkout one tells me that one of her best friends is the first in her group to be getting married.

"I'm so excited to find this store!  I'm going to do her party.  She's really conservative.  I'm going to do penises everywhere!  Penis straws, penis water bottles, penis napkins... She's going to HATE it!"

Commentary: Wtf?  What kind of friend does something they specifically know the other person will hate?  On an important occasion?  This hurts my brain.

Surprise:
::ring:: ::ring::
"Hello Business Name, this is Kathryn."

"Yes, do you sell thongs for men?"

"You know, we don't.  We're a small store and it's difficult for us to carry clothing.  But there are some places I can sugges--"

"Oh that's too bad.  It's for a party tonight so I'm kinda' in a hurry."

"Well, sometimes Kohl's and JC Penney have sexy men's underwear and"

"It's a naked party.  So, I mean the underwear would just be for the time before all that comes off."

"Oh, that's good.  You might also try a store called Free Radicals."

"It should be fun, but you know, I want something to show off everything before the nakedness really happens."

"Of course.  I'm not sure how much luck you'll have in finding a thong, but sometimes jock straps are made very sexy and that's essentially the same thing."

"That's true.  This is going to be a great party.  We started off with just 4 people but now we have, like, 20."

"Yes, it's difficult to make that kind of party happen, especially here."

"Yeah, hey you wanna' come?"

"Oh, thank you but I can't."

"No, really, you sound cool.  I'd like to invite you."

"Well, I don't accept invitations from people I don't know."

"I could come down to the store and you could decide then."

"Actually I can't accept anything personally while I'm in a professional role here at work."

"Oh, but, so, if we met outside of your work..."

"I'm flattered, but your party is tonight and I work late tonight."

"Oh, okay.  Well, maybe next time."

"Maybe next time."

Commentary: No, maybe not next time.  I'd be very happy to attend a sex party, but I'm concerned if someone's criteria on the people they invite is that they 'sound cool'.

Horror:
I'm having a conversation with a customer about lubricant.  We're discussing the merits and drawbacks of water vs. silicone lube.  The customer needs something to take on a trip with her.
"What's this one?"

"That's a silicone lube that comes specifically in a travel case.  Silicone leaks a bit and gets on everything so that company was thinking ahead."

::Customer grabbing her right armpit:: "Leaks?"

::Me putting two and two together:: "Oh, I just meant the lubricant.  Implants are well contained and tested so they don't leak."*

"Oh, okay.  I sure hope it don't leak.  I've had this for 13 years.  It don't feel like the other."

"Yes, I've heard that you must massage them frequently if you want them to stay soft."

"Well, that makes sense because it does seem to soften up if I'm touching it.  Here, feel."

"No, thank you."

"No really, it's okay, just touch them each, you'll see they're different."

"Thank you, I'd rather not.  Actually I had a girl friend once who had a silicone implant."

Commentary: I love this.  I think I might actually be this woman if I lost some of the social conditioning I've developed.  I went through a process between the first time she asked and the second.  It took about a milisecond but in it I considered how I am curious about how implants feel (that gf had no tissue on one side of her chest so the implant was a bit different than it might have been for someone else).  I also considered how and why someone would ask a store clerk to touch their breasts and how I really did not want to touch this woman at all.  Also, it seemed she was going to argue more before I said I'd already felt a silicone implant.


*I just watched the Mythbusters' episode on silicone implants at altitude.  I feels smart.

Wallet Woes

I was working in The Store a few weeks ago, when a man approached Bonney to ask if The Store wanted to buy some books he had.  Mind, he didn't have the books with him, but he wanted to ask if he should bring them in.  She explained that we don't usually take used items (we joke with customers regarding our no-return policy, that we tried that "discount" table and it didn't go over well) but that we could still take a look.  Being that they were all BDSM books, and I'm apparently the resident BDSM expert at The Store, (and I think Bonney didn't want to deal with this guy), she sent him to me.

We found a day for him to bring in his books and then he needed to pick up tickets for the Southwest Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. 

"Okay" I said, "I just need to see some ID".

"Oh" said he, "Um, it's really hard for me to get my wallet".

"Well, take your time" I offered.

He started pulling at his back pocket, struggling with some unseen issue.  I busied myself with nothing in particular. 

His pulling and struggling became more and more dramatic.  He was practically hopping up and down when he bunnied his way around the table and backed up to me asking if I could just help him get his wallet.

"No, Sir.  I don't think I can".

"Please?  Could you just, unstick it for me?"

"Sir I don't want to touch your behind".

To be fair to him, he was wearing something on his belt that sat above half his back pocket, and sure, his pants (Dickies?) looked a little tight in the gluteal region.  I still don't see why he couldn't stick his whole hand down behind the wallet to smooth out any catches and just pull it out. 

He did finally liberate his wallet. 

He never came back with those books, though.  I wonder if he realized what a creep he was being.