From the category archives:

Healthy Relationships

New York induces poverty while, at the same time, affording the luxury of amazing creative friends and writers. If wealth is abundance, even though I am without significant financial means, this city’s comedians, burlesque dancers, visual artists and others keep me richly entertained, turned on and engaged. Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life. Great title, right? Samhita wrote it, and and it’s available on Amazon and other places where fine books are sold. Only rabbits breed faster than the pace at which Rachel pushes out deliciously juicy erotica. Marty’s The Heming Way: How to Unleash the Booze-Inhaling, Animal-Slaughtering, War-Glorifying, Hairy-Chested, Retro-Sexual Legend Within… Just Like Papa! landed him on MSNBC. Baratunde’s How to Be Black comes out in January. Rakesh. David. Abiola. Jenn. Larry. And, so on. Writers. Writers. Writers. Mazel! Mazel! Mazel!

Naked Winery: Foreplay ChardonnayI completed the first full draft of a book last year. Funny thing happened on the way to editing and pitching. I moved three times, unexpectedly started a new gig, got a local television show, bought a car and logged 9,000+ miles on the road over the past six months. New deadline: January 2, 2012. I’ll pitch the book no later than that date. Hard to believe that’s approximately 12 weeks away. Did I want to pitch sooner? Yes, but I think Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich is right: Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Naked Winery: Foreplay ChardonnayIt’s been said lovers of the pen (keyboard?) should “write drunk, edit sober.” That is, figuratively, be intoxicatingly honest and excessively messy to get everything on the page. Literally imbibe, if you wish. However, in editing, be calculated, precise and mindful. In celebration of everyone with completed books as well as those in progress, raise a glass, folks! Also, as always, many thanks to those of you who have read and continue to read my work. Without readers, there would be no writers. As a token of gratitude, I’m happy to announce Naked Winery has kindly agreed to offer FUNKY BROWN CHICK® readers 30% off their orders at www.nakedwinery.com. (Discount code: SINGLE) Pick up a bottle of Foreplay Chardonnay and enjoy! Full disclosure, I’ve not yet sipped from their vineyards. They’re sending me a bottle of ripe tropical fruits, pear and a hint of green apple flavors that complement a subtle crisp finish. It’s slated to arrive soon; I’ll let you know how I like the fruity little number. Wine should be alcoholic and yummy; If Naked Winery meets those qualifications, I’m happy. (For more detailed vino analysis and info, visit Gary or read his books.)

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“Be safe.” Lately, it’s the email and telephone sign off of choice for friends who would usually tell me “goodbye.” It’s September 10, and I live in New York City. Loved ones are afraid of a retaliatory strike against Manhattan on 9/11′s ten year anniversary. Unfortunately, living in New York requires a somewhat constant state of … I won’t say “fear,” necessarily, but it definitely requires an ongoing since of alertness that can, at times, be draining.

I’ll tell you a story. Yesterday evening in Brooklyn, three lanes of traffic stopped at a red light near Fort Greene’s intersection of Myrtle and Flatbush avenues. I was in the far right lane. A bald, 30-something white dude clad in a black leather jacket with an embroidered insignia on its back was in the middle lane. Seconds earlier, a Suburban darted from right to left, cutting off the bald guy to cross to the far lane. This pissed The Shaven One off. Now, he got out of his car, walked over to their window and used his fists to pound it for a couple seconds — startling the shit out of those passengers, other drivers stopped around him, and me. Was he a crazy, road rage-stricken driver? Perhaps. Gun wielding psycho ready to unload? Maybe. When the traffic signal’s glow switched from red to green, no one stuck around to find out. The event was so ordinary, it neither made the news nor conversation with friends. If I tell the story now, it’s slightly funny: Ha, that guy sounds like a nutjob!

Another story. Less humorous. I once saw a dead body slumped in a dark street around 2:30 a.m. At the time, I lived in Astoria, Queens. A late-night yellow cab was shuttling me from lower Manhattan home. Back then, the area between LIC and Astoria was fairly sketchy. (Chicagoans: It was like the region between downtown and Wicker Park when Cabrini was still around.) On that Queens street, a man lay lifeless on the ground. A cop car’s lights flashed cherry red and midnight blue. My cab winded through back roads to get me home safely via another route. Shortly thereafter, I moved back to Manhattan. Upper East Side.

Arriving in the Empire State in 2005, I expected to enjoy a year (maybe two tops!) in America’s largest city. Nearly seven years later, I’m still here. Life is rewarding, but it’s far from easy. As the 9/11 anniversary approaches, much attention and many eyes turn to my city. If you’d like to see a film that captures New York & 9/11 well without whitewashing the experience, watch 9/11 The Falling Man.

In the wee hours of September 11, 2011, Jonathan Briley, an asthmatic restaurant worker, dutifully reported to work at one of the world’s tallest buildings with no reason to assume the day would be unlike any other. At 8:46 a.m., speeding 466 mph, Mohamed Atta slammed American Airlines Flight 11 between floors 93 through 99 of the World Trade Center’s North Tower. Exactly 55 minutes later, trapped on the skyscraper’s 107th floor, a man presumed to Briley leaped from flames and smoke to his death. Based on a 2003 Esquire magazine article, the documentary The Falling Man is about an image of him falling.

The Falling Man

According to New York magazine, 2,819 died in the World Trade Center attacks. Of that total, approximately 200 were jumpers. “[B]etween 7 and 8 percent of those who died in New York City on September 11, 2001, died by jumping out of the buildings,” Tom Junod writes in the Esquire piece. If you only count the people who jumped out of the North Tower, “where the vast majority of jumpers came from,” says Junod, “the ratio is more like one in six.” You rarely hear the jumpers’ stories. In the name of decency, they’re often photoshopped from the day’s images — though, there’s nothing decent about not honoring their lives and erasing their deaths.

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I hope you’re all enjoying a relaxing start to the week! To kick (pun intended) things off right, let’s celebrate “Manly Monday” again, weekly festivities of everything with a dick. If you haven’t already heard, soccer beauty David Beckham is preemptively warning his newborn daughter Harper Seven Beckham‘s would-be suitors he is NOT going to put up with any shit!

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About her future dating life, he says boys should know she has “three brothers that will take her, three brothers that will eat with her and three brothers that will bring her back home to a dad waiting for her.” See? That’s a DILF! (via The Frisky)

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I survived what New Yorkers have called “Minor Inconvenience Irene.” Hardwood floors lining my apartment didn’t flow water nor did wind hurl elderly maple branches through my car’s rear window. A bloody right shin was my only hurricane-inspired personal injury — a result of a botched singlefoot, livingroom-to-kitchen sprint to grab frozen cookie dough from the freezer. Hardly a tragedy.

Irenejury

In fact, I spent a pleasurable weekend in Brooklyn at a small, extended Hurricane Party — one dude, three girls. No sex. No juicy masturbation stories. No boobgrabs. Just plain, old-fashioned quality time with friends. Sitting next to each other on the floor, we enjoyed Scrabble, Spades (I had several A♠s — sometimes in the same hand!), salmon burgers,  Kosher chocolate cake from a local Jewish bakery with a Rabbinically supervised kitchen,  Tarot cards, and shots upon shots of whiskey / picklebacks.

One of my favorite parts of the weekend? Semi-sober, we watched Manchester United kill Arsenal 8:2  at one of Brooklyn’s finest soccer bars, Woodwork. It was great because exactly none of these particular friends were soccer fans. They tagged along because the venue served food, and they knew I wanted to see the game. Aww, buddies! It was like an old-school 24+ hour slumber party (plus, you know, soccer). I think my soul really needed it.

I often yearn for a sense of “belonging” in New York. Without current property, family, or a steady relationship here, I don’t necessarily feel anchored. When a friend recently asked, “What’s keeping you here?,” my answer was “nothing.” So, while I’m in New York — whether for the next 24 months or 24 years — I enjoy the hell out of it. I go out. A lot. But, I’m also learning to enjoy time at home. It’s hard to strike the right a balance and, sometimes, I feel lonely — especially when faced with the prospect of mid-hurricane solitude in a tiny box apartment without power. To quote the 90s film SINGLES, “People need people [...] It has nothing to do with sex. OK, maybe 40 percent. 60 percent. Forget it.”  :)

To the three platonic friends who shared low-key but quality time with me this weekend, Thank You.

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Two oranges, one apple

No Surprise for Bisexual Men: Report Indicates They Exist. The study in question is Northwestern University Department of Psychology researchers’ Sexual arousal patterns of bisexual men revisited. In other bizarre and unpredictable news, Humans have two eyes. Carry on, folks!

Speaking of bisexuality, a shameless plug and heads up … BIDEOLOGY, a thought-provoking documentary about women dating bisexual men, comes out (no pun intended) Spring 2012. In the meantime, watch BIDEOLOGY (Trailer) on Vimeo.

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“Unlike sex, when it comes to credit cards, I don’t remember my first.” That’s the opener to Rachel’s piece It Happened to Me: I Declared Bankruptcy. Speaking of firsts, in case you missed it, from the show Fourplay TV, here’s a clip about the first time I came. It includes tips for female vaginal orgasms. Hint: Buy a sex toy.

Orgasm

If that fails, the delicious cocktail The Orgasm, is quite delicious, too! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orgasm_%28cocktail%29

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By now, you’ve probably heard that NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg issued a mandate requiring New York City’s public schools to teach age-appropriate sex education. In theory, according to the Wall Street Journal, students will receive their first sex ed dose in middle-school (ages 10 – 13) and they’ll receive a second semester in high-school (ages 13 – 17). New York City high schools have passed out condoms for more than 20 years. The New York Times explains, “in the new sex-education classes, teachers will describe how to use them, and why.” This is a fantastic idea–especially considering how many NYC teens are having sex. Statistics below are for New York State. If you’d like to know the statistics for your area, click here.

Sexually Experienced by Grade

Statistic
New York
United States
Grade 9th, 2009
26.4%
31.6%
Grade 10th, 2009
37.2%
40.9%
Grade 11th, 2009
46.1%
53%
Grade 12th, 2009
61.8%
62.3%
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance–United States, 2009. Surveillance Summaries (2010). MMWR 2010;59 (No. SS-5). http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/pdf/ss/ss5905.pdf [June 2010]

Teaching kids to use condoms so that, if they choose to have sex, they’ll be less likely to get (someone) pregnant, contract HIV, or spread sexually transmitted infections like Gonorrhea or Chlamydia should hardly be controversial. Nevertheless, Time magazine writes, “Sex education has become the most hotly debated topic in American elementary education.” Critics believe education belongs in the home or at church, they warn. You know what’s really fucking sad about that article? It was written in 1969! It often still holds true. So, thank the sweet little baby Jesus for Michael Bloomberg understanding that New York City needs a sex education initiative. Let’s talk about some of the mandate’s limitations and discuss how it could be made stronger.

Sex Ed Won’t Be “Required”

Despite descriptions of it in the media, the new mandate doesn’t make comprehensive sex education mandatory. Just like under the city’s previous sex ed curriculum–which primarily focused on HIV/AIDS–parents will have the ability to opt their child out of specific lessons. If a mandate is an order that someone do something, it’s not really effective if they don’t have to do it.

Teachers May Not Be Equipped to Teach Sex Ed

I work in the sex industry; That is, for a living, I write about sex & relationships, and I also teach and manage sex education programs for teens and adults (bio). Technically, throughout the U.S. and the rest of the world, my lusciously diverse industry includes everyone who provides sex-related products and services. Podcast hosts who talk about sex. Dominatrix. Sex education teachers. Church & Dwight Company employees. (Yep, the folks that peddle ARM & HAMMER baking soda also bring you “America’s #1″ Trojan brand condoms.) Pickup artist book authors. Gynecologists. Burlesque dancers. Certified sex therapists. Columnists like Dan Savage. Dungeon owners. Would you trust everyone who works in my field to teach your kid about sex education? How about people who don’t even work in the field? Often, the responsibility for teaching America’s teens about sex falls into health and P.E. teachers’ laps. As The Nation notes, while Bloomberg’s sex education mandate includes teacher training, “one essential element [is] missing: a program monitoring system, i.e., accountability.” Read: Sex, Lies and Michael Bloomberg.

The Public May Not Understand Why Pubic Matters

To ensure the mandate’s success, Bloomberg may need to do a better job at increasing awareness of how sex education is linked to public health as well as economic issues. In short, letting people know NYC students need sex ed is awesome, but it also helps if they know why. Decreased access to sex education is linked to increased poverty, decreased levels of health/wellbeing and increased abortion rates. Also, Teen and unplanned pregnancies cost U.S. tax payers $11 billion annually.

Don’t Forget to <3 the Internet!

One of my favorite things about my job is that I regularly have opportunities to speak about sex & technology to conference, teen and university audiences. At present, I have a South by Southwest proposal up for consideration: Sex, Dating and Privacy Online Post-Weinergate. Please vote for me! Fellow panelists include the amazing Feministing Executive Editor Samhita Mukhopadhyay (Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life), the incredibly prolific writer and lover of big guys Rachel Kramer Bussel, and the talented Forbes Web Celeb / one of Wired’s Faces of Innovation Violet Blue. Among other things, we’ll tell you 5 things you need to know about balancing the public/private divide (that you can only learn from people who write about sex professionally). Here’s that link again if you’d like to vote: Sex, Dating and Privacy Online Post-Weinergate. Now, back to sex education in NYC.

New York Daily News interviewed a mother named Yvonne McDowell whose 14-year-old son James is entering 9th grade in the Bronx. “I would prefer for my son to get [sex education] from the school than for him to get it from the street or from peers or from TV or social media,” she said. Truth is, even though NYC schools will follow Bloomberg’s sexy mandate, students will still go online to learn about one of the world’s oldest activities. In fact, ISIS conducted a study about this last year. When they asked teen and young respondents, “How do you learn about [birth control, menstruation, pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases]?” 89% replied “online.” That tops doctors, family, friends and, of course, school workshops. Given this, sex education mandates targeting middle and high school students should combine sexual and reproductive health education with digital media literacy.

That’s all, my friends! I hope this roundup helped explain Bloomberg’s new sex education mandate. As always, if you have any questions or you’d like to contribute to the conversation, please feel free to use the comments section below.

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Le Nom des Gens | The Names of Love

If Marilyn Monroe was an Arab woman she might be Baya Benmahmoud, says filmmaker Michel Leclerc. “For Baya,” he continues, “nudity is totally unimportant: she acts the same way naked as she does in clothes – she doesn’t make it sexual.” The New York Times calls her “a walking wardrobe malfunction, who is so absent-minded that her breasts are repeatedly falling out of her shirt.” Romantic comedy THE NAMES OF LOVE features flesh, witty dialogue, and a steamy interethnic romance between a young Arab woman who likes to be naked and a middle-aged Jewish man who likes to indulge her.

Be ye not fooled! It’s smarter than your average opposites-attract flick. More about the film from its website: Amid the bubbly amour [...] and moments of sheer madness, filmmaker Michel Leclerc injects satirical riffs on such hot-button sociopolitical issues as Arab-Jewish relations, anti-Semitism, immigration, and racial and cultural identity.

“In France,” says Leclerc, “the question of origin is complicated and obsessive.” His co-writer on the screenplay shares the female lead’s namesake, Baya, and also has an Algerian parent. Is the fictional Baya the filmmaker’s Baya? Admitting THE NAMES OF LOVE is highly autobiographical, Leclerc fesses, “it was in telling each other stories about our families that, despite our differences, we recognized similarities when it came to certain neuroses and obsessions of our parents.” In closing credits, the screenwriting pair dedicate THE NAMES OF LOVE to their parents. I saw the flick with my friend Rachel because I’m addicted to sexy romantic comedies. Here’s our quickie 120-second review:

Additional film reviews are available from Roger Ebert and local outlets like The New York Jewish Week, The New Jersey Jewish Standard, Salon and The New York Times.

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