Posts tagged ‘sans sex’

June 29, 2010

TV Time: Secret Life Soap Drama

by d

I just finished watching Episode 4, Season 3, of Secret Life of the American Teenager. I was already resolved to write about this show, and this episode, but I’m having trouble getting started. I’m still reeling from the next-to-last encounter.

Essentially, a father just told his pregnant daughter that if she doesn’t have the baby, he’s going to divorce her mother and dismantle their family.

If you haven’t been watching, Secret Life is a show on ABC Family that insists its intention is to depict teen pregnancy in a realistic light. I have watched from the beginning, because I was curious. I like the mix of characters, the writing and acting aren’t terrible, and it’s fairly funny. I also have a sick fascination with Hollywood’s ongoing aversion to abortion. The obvious reason for this is that a baby creates more drama than not having a baby. But doing so both panders to anti-abortion opinion and strengthens the idea that babies are better in the audience.

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March 29, 2010

On different roles, a subterfuge post

by f

I’ve been really bad at this, but I’m getting better, I promise.

This weekend was a very interesting one. W came over our house while my mother was out touring the globe. Yes, that’s right — my mother tours the globe for a living, and she’s very good at traveling. D calls her “the professional tourist”. Good times had by all.

This moment of subterfuge was brought to you by a perfect storm of events and the letter “sex”.

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March 16, 2010

I’m stirring up some shit.

by f

Tomorrow is going to be the end of a two-week dry spell.

I’m trying to think how I’m going to fuck it up. I mean, the good kind of fuck up. I mean the kind of fuck up where I get fucked, fucked & fucked.

Two long weeks without sex. What does that mean? Days, hours, minutes? I used to have sex four times a day while I was in college and I have to settle for droughts?

I know D’s gonna kick my ass, but I’m sick of this subterfuge shit, Imma gonna kick up some ruckus. The boundaries between my secret and my real life are just going to become that much more porous.

I’m going to try something new for the blog. D gave me a camera for my birthday or Christmas — I always forget which — and it’s a damn good camera, too, so I’m going to use it to take pictures of me subterfuge-ing. Incriminating pictures without me in them, but of me in places I shouldn’t be. A kind of Where’s Waldo, except this Waldo has a cunt. Yes, baby.

Looking forward to the pictures? I am!

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February 21, 2010

On Sexual Double Standards

by f

So here it is — the post I’ve been wanting to write for ages but somehow never got the opportunity to write.

I have been trying to figure out what more we could do with Subterfusex. As a blog, it’s a terrific idea. Two young women in a recession talking about sex and relationships in a frank way. I almost feel like a spy when I write on this blog, because I hide this part of my life from almost everyone that I know. D is a bonafide sex goddess who has nobody in the world to placate. I envy her. It’s certainly my fault that nobody knows about this blog, because the problem is, I don’t know how to tell anybody about it.

I feel like my vagina is a cobwebbed room. I can’t think about it. Or touch it. Or have someone else touch it. Or fuck it. Or tell anyone that it is getting the bejeezus fucked out of i t. Instead, I have to go about my life pretending that this part of my body doesn’t exist. I can’t talk about it, make off-color jokes about it. The fact that I am a sexual being can’t ever be revealed, like the biggest non-secret in the world.

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