What’s up buds?
On a scale of value neutral to eternal damnation, how do you feel about listening to me talk about sex. If you err more on the fiery hell side, maybe skip this newsletter.
The rest of you heathens, get in the car we’re going sexting.
Good Reads
This is the Hetero Male Equivalent of Deep-Throating - Tracy Moore
I’m not going to lie to you, dear reader: I wrote this entire newsletter because I wanted to include this article. So if you’re not down for pound town talk, blame Tracy Moore who wrote the most amazing paragraph I’ve ever read about gender norms in hetero sexuality:
"At least in hetero porn, it’s always women who have to do what amounts to a circus act to prove their sexual prowess and keep the menfolk happy. They take it in every opening at once, jack four dudes off at the same time using their hands and feet simultaneously and parkour from one dick to another with a transitional dismount after an Olympic judge’s own heart."
PARKOUR FROM ONE DICK TO ANOTHER
(a la the queen’s “as I bounce to the next dick boi.”)
A serious warning about this article: if you are currently in a hetero relationship, proceed with caution. The bf responded to my demand for the male equivalent of deep throating exactly how I would respond if he demanded the female equivalent of deep throating. Enthusiastic consent goes both ways bbys. (Also, can we agree that “throating” is by far the grossest word? Way beyond moist.)
Read this: if you are at all tickled by the idea of an Olympic judge of dick dismount.
The Secret Sexual History of the Barre Workout - Danielle Friedman
I’ve heard stories of Barre workouts from my lithe, former-dancer friends. They seem intense and like they require much more core strength than my current regimen of occasionally sitting at my desk WITHOUT a million pillow cushions. But put “secret sexual history” in front of most things and I’m obviously down.
The Secret Sexual History of Being Well Rested? Yup. The Secret Sexual History of Doing Your Taxes? W4 me bby. The Secret Sexual History of Riverdancing? Sure. (Just testing out the theory.)
The tl;dr of this article runs something like this: Barre used to be all about sexual awakening and now it’s about having the strongest muscles.
So……it was fun and now it’s work.
Listen, I am like most adult humans and really just want to be tricked into working out. Why do you think those Hip Hop Abs with Shaun T videos sold so well! I also do not relate to these Barre enthusiasts who say “they don’t always want to feel sexual while working out.” Bizarre.
Think about it, if you worked out every time (or even HALF the time) you wanted to feel sexual you’d look like Xena Warrior Princess!
(Yes, I know that’s not exactly what they’re saying and I get that not all spaces have to be sexualized. And I’m sure, because of the times, the only sex they were positive on was of that heteronormative type. But c’mon. Sexual things are fun!! Even when they’re just for your own Lululemon loving self!)
Read this: if you want to blame your lack of Barre classes on standing with sex-positive activists rather than laziness/brokeness.
Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop touted the ‘benefits’ of putting a jade egg in your vagina. Now it must pay. - Amy B Wang
NOW IT MUST PAYYYYYYYYY.
The Washington Post knows how to write goddamn headline.
I’m a little late to this news but I needed to put it in this newsletter to say one thing:
aahahahhhahahaahhahahahahahahhahahahhahaahahahahaahaha
I forget about Goop until it appears as a result of a blazed google search. (Ex. “best yoga retreats” “how to charge your crystals” “most expensive moisturizer”)
I could vomit thinking about all the times I’ve seen the phrase “the vagina is like a self-cleaning oven” in print, but usually things are cliché because they’re true. A crystal up your hot pocket isn’t going to balance your hormones. Just buy the crystal dildo and call it a day, babe.
Read this: if you need a little laugh about marketing, (commercial) mysticism, and motherf—ing Gwyenth Paltrow.
Hate Read
Damien Chazelle’s Moon Shot in "First Man"
This review of "First Man" got me HEATED.
I mean, it’s more just an article written to suck the dick of the late Neil Armstrong. And usually I’m fine with that. American hero. Seemed like a good dude. IDK maybe he deserves the attention.
But the reason that Anthony Lane is in admiration of Neil Armstrong is because of some antiquated midwest fever dream of masculinity.
Lane starts by making a distinction between Neil Armstrong’s demeanor and Ryan Gosling’s previously played characters:
“If Armstrong is merely a name to you, take a look at the real Neil: those broad unfazeable features, the undemanding steadiness of the gaze, and a mouth that is happy, if conditions are favorable, to curve into a smile. Now consider Gosling—the sad-eyed heartthrob, a veteran of “The Notebook” (2004), and a tender presence who can’t help drawing us into his plights. Can we imagine him moonstruck by love or grief? Sure. But stepping up for a moon shot? Please.”
The rest of this reads like when my students would get to the end of the first page of a two page essay, come up with a new take that wasn’t at all relevant to the assignment, and get so hyped on that idea that they go over the word count talking about how Mr. Kurtz from Heart of Darkness would have never survived with an iPhone.
I’ll just quote the last few lines so you don’t have to go and read it yourself.
“Is that really a teardrop that we see inside his helmet, sliding down his cheek? Read all about it: “Man Weeps on Moon!” Skillful and compelling this film may be, but, if Neil Armstrong had been the sort of fellow who was likely to cry on the moon, he wouldn’t have been the first man chosen to go there. He would have been the last.”
BOIIII you would have been the last person I assigned this review to if I’d known you were going to go off on some repressed, “emotions are for the weak and female” bullshit. foh
Rec of the Week
Elite
Did you ever think to yourself “I wish they made a sexier, Spanish version of Riverdale?” You know, me either, but no worries because NETFLIX ALREADY MADE IT.
This. Show. Has. Everything.
You’ve got your complicated jocks. You’ve got your working-class moody boy with eyebrows that looks like they were ripped off of Noah Centineo. You’ve got drug dealers demanding money. You’ve got beautiful boy drug dealers falling in love with other beautiful boys. You’ve got a couple who is in to cuckolding because they’ve been together since they were 12 and are so over their boring lives (think GG’s Chuck and Blair). You’ve got party scenes, pool scenes, stunning architecture scenes. Literally everything you need.
There are options to listen to it dubbed in English, too, if you’re not the subtitles type. (Frankly, I enjoy hearing the European Spanish and picking out the curse words I know.)
That’s all I’ve got for this edition of copypaste. I feel like I should end this with this true story.
BOYFRIEND: Have you seen Goodfellas/Star Wars/Dazed and Confused/Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas/etc?
ME: No.
BF: *sighs*
ME: I haven’t seen a lot of movies, ok? But hey, I have seen The Graduate! Great film.
BF: Of course you’ve seen The Graduate! That’s exactly your type of shit.
ME: ?????
ME: What do you mean, my type of shit???
BF: Of course you would go for the depressing, sexual, social commentary with the Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack!
I *yam emoji* what I *yam emoji*
This is the best thing on the internet.