Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 44

Chapter Summary - As Tom broached the idea of a holiday with Alexianna, they discuss other matters.

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

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Tom's nostrils flared and his glare remained fixed on the wall ahead. He was not an aggressive man but at that moment, he shook in anger. He had never felt so angry at a supposedly throwaway comment and the manner in which he reacted shocked everyone around him.

'Tom?’ He turned slightly to see Alexianna in his peripheral vision. ‘Are you okay?’

He knew it was a rhetorical question, he knew he looked almost like a man possessed. 'Where….where's Lily?’

'Daniel has her at the moment.’

'He came early.’

'Anna got extra time off work, they decided to come down a few days more so we could all spend some time together apparently. They're thinking of staying in the Premier Inn in Archway.’

'Why not yours?’ He toyed with his hands.

‘Because they don't want to intrude too much. My place isn't big enough for four adults and a child.’ She said nothing more for a moment. 'Do you want to talk about it?’

'Did Luke call you?’ Tom ignored her question.

'He did.’ She admitted. 'Talk to me, Tom.’

'How dare she say that.’

'Tom, don't let her annoy you any further.’ Alexianna put her hand on his comfortingly. 'I know it hurts and I know it is completely and utterly wrong, so don't let it fester anymore.’ She beseeched.

Tom sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

*

It was an interview, nothing mad, he had done them a thousand times before. This one was on a BBC programme, it was in reference to several topics, one of which being how UNICEF use celebrities to get people to listen to the plight of others. Tom had done work with the organisation in Sudan and was available to interview along with two others involved with the group, Martin Sheen and Ewan McGregor. The interviewer made a comment regarding seeing these tragic events in different countries and how they affect the most vulnerable, especially children and how they played on the thoughts of Sheen and McGregor as fathers. That in itself, though slightly hurtful to Tom, he did not comment on, but when the interviewer specifically dismissed Tom when Ewan had answered on his personal take on it and looked to both other men for their reactions, Tom nodding in agreement and the interviewer stated “Well, this is not really something Tom can understand fully, he is not a father” that things went downhill.

Tom first very diplomatically stated that though he did not father a child personally, he had a niece he adored and was the father figure to another little girl. Which both men and the second female interviewer nodded to. But the first interviewer did not stop there, she, without a moment's hesitation added: “Well, that's not really the same, is it?”. Her fellow interviewer looked at her appalled, as did the other two men but Tom saw red. He honestly was shocked into silence for a few moments.

'Now, hang on a second here.’ McGregor was the first to find his voice. 'Not all families are cookie cutter design. Tom said that he is that wee girl's father figure, so he does know the feeling. He does not have to be her biological father to be her father.’

'But she had a real father surely.’ The interviewer retorted.

'That's no one's business but theirs. Some kids don't have the biological parents around and that is no one's business. If she sees Tom and him alone as her Dad, then that is it, end of discussion. Stepfathers are just as much fathers when they are the ones doing the heavy lifting.’ Ewan declared.

Tom finally found his voice again. He knew Luke would be livid but he could not remain silent. 'I am the man she calls her Dad. I am there to clean up when she has a stomach bug, when she has a nighttime accident and when she has tantrums, like every other four-year-old. I collect her from school, read her stories and I can name every Paw Patrol character. I may not have given her half her genes but I am her father in everything but that. Having come from a home with separated parents myself, I understand the value of a good and present father figure and never would I have thought, in 2018, that there would be such prejudice against a family situation that does not fit within the restricting confines of one particular person's definition of a family unit. Families are not always mother, father and two kids, it is often dictated by outside circumstances that prevent such a unit existing for whatever reason; death, abuse, whatever reason and to dismiss a non-biological parent as being incapable of understanding the parental bond with a child is utter rubbish and entirely offensive, both to the child and the adult involved.’ as he spoke, Tom's anger grew in intensity.

'Here here.’ Sheen commented beside him, McGregor nodding in his seat.

'Many of the children I met in Sudan are without one or both biological parents. Many of them are in the care of relatives or in some cases, they are orphaned entirely. War and famine tend to cause such situations. They are crying for their parents, they are scared and often weak and you do not need to be a biological parent to feel empathy and heartache for them, such is not a requirement but to put a personal perspective on such situations is entirely natural. I have gone there again since having my life as it is at present and yes, on a personal level, I project my situation into it, as everyone does and it made it even more harrowing. It is a natural human process. We do it all the time in any situation. These children are what we should be focusing on, not backhanded snipes at someone for no reason other than to attack non-conformist families.’

The interviewer became the one to be silenced. She scowled at Tom who held her gaze with a glare of his own. His anger growing as she tried to get him to back down.

'Now that Tom has put that matter to rest with an eloquence and decorum I would not have been able to maintain, can we get back to the matter at hand?’ Sheen asked.

The interview continued after that but there was a tense atmosphere throughout. The second and inoffensive interviewer did most of the talking and all three men were wary of anything that the first asked.

When it was done walked off the set to see Luke looking at him with equal parts concern and anger. 'I stayed polite.’ He stated.

'I could see that it was a struggle for you.’ Luke acknowledged. 'It doesn't make it any less damaging.’

'Standing up for my personal life should not have to be seen as a potential risk. I am not racist or bigoted so why should I have to worry about what other people think of my home life?’

'Because you are a public figure and as such, in the minds of the many, you are public property.’ Luke explained. 'Look, Tom, I get it, I do. In your life, Lily is your little girl and any attack on that relationship is an attack on you and her but this was not the time for this.’

Tom was about to respond when one of the BBC representatives came over. 'Mr Hiddleston, I am so incredibly sorry for the personal attack on your personal life in that segment by one of our employees. The company does not share the views of Ms Davies.’

'It's fine. Honestly, I would never have made such a correlation. Mrs Thompson clearly did not share such views either, I understand that on occasion emotions come to the fore, as they did for myself and I must apologise also for taking the focus off the cause that I came here to support.’

'Not at all, you have every right to defend yourself and your family.’ The man stated. 'Ms Davies will be subject to reprimand for her actions. The BBC is an inclusive company and though there are some areas that require some updating, we are insistent that we will not tolerate such actions.’

'Please, I don't want a big deal made out of this.’ Tom requested. 'But thank you for taking the time to speak with me, I appreciate it.’

'Of course. Thank you, Mr Hiddleston.’ the man shook his hand again before leaving.

'So, what are people saying?’ Tom asked Luke.

'Honestly, I am half scared to look.’ the publicist responded.

*

Luke called Alexianna immediately after the situation and informed her. She had been due to go to a lecture but for once, she felt she was needed elsewhere and got a taxi to the BBC to help placate the irate Tom.

After a few minutes, she realised what he really needed and messaged her brother, who rang back, Lily on his lap.

'Daddy?’

'Yes, Princess?’ He turned to see Lily on the phone, Baloo in her hands. 'Lily?’

'Why are you sad, Daddy?’

'I am not sad, Love.’

'Are you angry?’

Tom looked at her with incredible guilt. Lily had sensed his upset even through the device and seeing how the other adults were with Tom, especially her mother, she was trying to make sense of the situation. 'No, Princess. I am not angry, not really.’

'What happened? Did you not get a prize? I get sad when someone else gets a prize in school and I don't.’

Tom wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and onto his lap. 'No Lily, it's not that.’

'Do you want Baloo? You can have him if you want, for a while. I need him for bed. But if you are really sad you can have him tonight.’

Tom felt his gut clench at her kindness. Every time he thought it was impossible to love her more, Lily proved him wrong. 'To be honest, Lily. I need you more than I need Baloo.’ He confessed.

Confused but seeing his upset, Lily simply kissed the phone. 'I want to cuddle you too, Daddy.’

'Lil's?’ She looked at her mother. 'A lady said something to Tom today and it hurt his feelings.’

Tom looked at Alexianna, shocked she was admitting this to her daughter.

'She said that he cannot understand what it is like to be a dad because he is not one.’

'Yes, he is.’ Lily declared angrily. 'He's my Daddy.’ She looked at Tom, her indignation clear. 'She is just a silly poo poo bum head.’ She stated factually. 'Tom is my daddy. He loves me and I love him and that lady is stupid.’

'The boss has spoken.’ Daniel chuckled.

Tom felt himself fill with pride at Lily's words. Any doubt he had as a result of the interviewer and her statements were quelled by Lily's declaration.

'You told her that, didn't you, Daddy?’

'I told her that I was your dad and that being your dad means more than just making you.’ He admitted.

'You want to be my daddy, that makes you extra special.’ She beamed. Tom looked to Alexianna, who gave him a look of “I told you so” with her smile. 'Are you coming over for dinner?’

Tom looked at Alexianna, who gave a look of “up to you” before looking at the phone and the hopeful look on Lily's face. 'Yes, I'll just finish here and Mummy and I will come home soon and we can have dinner with Uncle Daniel and Anna then.’

There was an elated cheer from the phone before “I love you” and “goodbye”.

Tom looked at Alexianna. 'Thank you.’

'You needed to hear it from her, not me.’

'You missed your lectures for me.’

'You have been there for me when I needed it, what sort of partner would I be if I was not there for you?’

Becoming Hero

Despite bullets and hunger, Isabel saves orphans in Liberia. #superheroalert #dogood

Isabel grew up in Liberia around the time of the Civil War. Four of her siblings were killed during the war, one by an accident she never specifies, one by raging diarrhea–one of the leading causes of death in the majority world; there was a sister whose death I cannot remember, and another, most horribly, she describes as being butchered like an animal, chopped into pieces. The way she looks away when describing this tells me she saw this happen right in front of her.

I first met Isabel when I was working late in a military hospital here in the US. She was working as a janitor, and I thought I would give her some cookies. I wanted to reach out to her, and show her some kindness. How absolutely silly–there is a verse in Hebrews that says that the lesser is blessed by the greater. We didn’t have much time to talk that night, but over the following evenings the scattered conversation she shared with a lonely family medicine resident became my comfort, my blessing, from this woman so much greater than I. The janitors at CRDAMC in Fort Hood in the US are treated with no mercy. If they miss a day of work by accident, they can be instantly fired. The other two I came to know through Isabel both had health problems not effectively treated by their insurance; one young Liberian found herself up against a several hundred dollar charge for the flu that she could not pay, so she never got treatment for her back problems. Another woman was not given appropriately early evaluation for a mass in her spine, likely because it was too difficult to explain things through her thick language challenges; even though the correct standard of care is to ask for a translator, she was never once offered one in her visits to her military PCM. Isabel never complained. And one day–perhaps over lunch, perhaps at the hospital–she told me about her orphanage.

Isabel and her husband used to go to the refugees camps to share what little food they had with the refugees. One day, very early in this process, Isabel noticed a little child running around who seemed lost. She asked for his parents, and the people said the child just didn’t have any. Isabel became concerned about the children with no parents, and as her eyes opened to more and more of them she determined in her heart to give them a place to live, and a family of some kind. When she mentioned the idea to people in her church circles, they laughed. It was a running joke, she told me: “you have nothing, and here you want to take all these children?” I think, if you really think about it, you can’t blame them for thinking she was irresponsible. I’ve heard Christians in Puerto Rico say it was irresponsible for someone to want to donate a kidney to a stranger (“what if you need it for your family”), and I’ve heard Christians in the mainland US say it’s optional, not a duty, to take care of the poor. “You can do that if you want to,” but your money belongs to you first, they’ve said. There’s a prevailing desire for safety, a fear of taking risks. So we can’t quite judge the Liberian churches who, having nothing, laughed at this crazy woman who wanted to take in 75 lost children. Think about the logistics of feeding 75 children. Think about how you could possibly find a place for them all to stay. In your house? There isn’t room. How on earth can you feed all of them? But Isabel is a woman of solutions instead of problems, and faith instead of fear. She began to go from church to church anyway, and gradually she did gather enough money to buy a small house. Finding the children was easy–she had 75 almost immediately. But now, she had nothing to feed them. She went to the Peace Corps, and they gave her 200 bags of milk. But with nothing else to eat–no solids–she feared the children would simply develop diarrhea and die anyway. An inspiration occurred to her–perhaps inspired by the widow in Scripture, who at Elijah’s behest sold olive oil to save her family. Isabel took 100 bags of the milk, and began to sell them. And discovered they sold like gold. People would pay insane amounts for each bag. This wasn’t just enough to pay for solid food for the children, but for mattresses and clothes! And that is how Isabel started her orphanage. In those days, during the war, the orphanage she managed to buy was about two hours from her house–and she would walk those two hours daily, hiding from gunfire. After the war, she would travel throughout Liberia to reunite the children with their parents. She managed to find the parents of over half of the children; the rest, by now, are in high school or older. One day, she went into one village, and saw a grandmother, and some men with shovels, around a hole in the ground. “What happened here?” she asked. The grandmother pointed to a tiny, wrapped up infant. The baby looked like a skeleton, with her lips fused together from hunger. “She died last night,” the grandmother said. Isabel had a sense–“no, this child isn’t dead,” she said definitively. “Yes, she died last night! She stopped moving,” the buriers insisted. “No, no,” Isabel took the tiny skeleton, and dribbled water into her mouth. The baby’s lips moved. “This baby isn’t dead; she is just hungry. Let me take this child.” “If she’s not dead now, she’s just going to die on the road, and then you’ll throw her away. No, please, let us bury her right,” they insisted. But Isabel won out in the end, promising to bury the child if it died. The baby spent three months in the hospital. But today, she is 22 years old. Isabel has a number of other stories like this. In the end, she established something that looked like it would last. For a year they had help from a peace corps worker, and at one point some US Marines from the embassy built solar panels for Isabel’s electricity. But when the Kargbos lost their primary US donor to support the orphanage, Isabel had to seriously evaluate their financial situation. While many of her biological children had moved to the US for a better life, she still had her son Moses back in Liberia, and her husband, to tend the orphanage. She thought she could go to the US, the land of plenty, and earn enough money to send back to the orphanage so that it would flourish. And so after two decades in Liberia establishing the orphanage, she spent nine years trying to raise money for it in the US. She found, however, that the expenses and high cost of living in the US ate away the paltry funds she could gather with her education, and as the orphanage began to suffer without her presence, she decided to return to Liberia permanently. It was around this time that I met her. I remember when I was working one Thanksgiving–I had no family in Texas anyway–and Isabel had invited me to come to her Thanksgiving whenever I managed to get away. I was doing rounds on the newborn babies, enjoying the quiet of a fairly empty hospital with only essential staff, free from the annoying interference of the more controlling nurses and administrators (you know, the kind of person who knows better than you about your patient care even though they’ve never been to medical school, because they improve the numbers geared to make the hospital money; the person who controls everyone around them, and still somehow manages to get holidays off because “they deserve it”). Suddenly, whispers and warnings permeated through the hallways: the hospital commander was coming in. “What is the hospital commander coming in for?” I admit I kind of smirked. People hate it when I smirk. But the smirk was deserved. He was coming to get his picture taken while he gave out turkeys to the patients stuck in the hospital over Thanksgiving. He had a glorious entourage, all decked out in their blue Army dress uniforms, their chests studded with colorful war-candy. The vast majority of the awards in the modern Army have nothing to do with combat, or bravery–you can get one for just going on a deployment, or writing a good paper, and there’s even one for just existing in the Army during 9/11. You wouldn’t know that, with the chests stuck out, and the strutting: it’s not uncommon for a commander, at military balls, to insist that lower Captains take pictures with him so you can see by contrast how very many medals he has on his dress blues compared to everyone else. I met the commander’s eyes for a moment as he passed by with his photographer; we all had to stop working on medicine to praise his presence. Decorum, and so forth. “When you give to the poor, do not do as the hypocrites do, and bring your trumpeter to announce your good work in the city square,” my Messiah once said; the commanders of his time didn’t have photographers. But his words are so much harder than we think, aren’t they? All of our giving programs online include social media buttons, so we can share how good we are with others. We call it “spreading awareness,” and I admit to feeling like if I tell everyone else I’m doing good, they’ll want to do good, too. And of course, we have to have some way to share good programs. But there must be a difference between a photograph of a well-dressed man of power handing out turkeys, and a practical call to action begging you to join the work. As the commander continued down the hall, I could only think about Isabel, working in the lowest position in the hospital, compared to this man with all his power. “The first shall be last,” the Messiah once said. In heaven, she will be the one studded with awards, and hers will not be pompous, but glorious. Thanksgiving with Isabel’s family was shy, but good. Those were the good days, even though I didn’t know it, and I miss going to lunch with her once a week, and learning about potato greens, and spicy chicken; the memory brings a soft, full, well-fed feeling. I was working often 80 hours a week in that hospital, a brand new physician, completely overwhelmed by a creeping illness suddenly exacerbated by an unrealistic work schedule. I regret spending so much time worrying about my position in the hospital, and I regret almost all of the time socializing with other military medical professionals, desperate to be liked but too rebellious and different to ever earn any place in those safe, successful hearts. I wish I had spent even more time with Isabel before she left; I am so grateful for the opportunities I did take. Ultimately, I left that residency as it ate away my health and my mind, burdened by my significant moral opposition to the residency’s prevailing philosophy of loyalty to the organization over the patient. None of the female residents in my year or above me who had pretended to care about me really kept contact. They looked down on me for my weakness and had little compassion for my daily chronic pain and worsening chemical depression. My best “friend” at that time seriously used and then deserted me in my time of need, after a relationship so deeply emotionally manipulative and mind-altering that my depression spiraled and I had to be hospitalized. Isabel never judged me, even when I was kind of stupid; she saw my pain with such deep compassion even though I had so much more than she did from a material perspective. I know of people who are so poor they feel uncomfortable, angry, or cruelly unsympathetic towards people who have more than they, and I understand their justification; but Isabel was so rich in spirit that she didn’t see it that way. There’s an old Hebrew saying, “never muzzle an ox as he treads out the grain,” and a later one to explain that the teacher deserves his due; as Isabel returned to Liberia to rescue the orphanage that could no longer survive without her presence, it would be truly evil of me, with the life I have, not to support her work. To stand by while she lives often without running water or electricity, in extreme heat, eating only rice every day with the occasional vegetables, and not give? I would be as fake as that man of power, and a bad friend to boot. 

However, I am finding I cannot, alone, provide for the enormous needs of the orphanage. The government recently dropped off twelve more children; there are five mattresses that need purchasing, a child with severe liver disease who needs $450 worth of medicine, and three teenagers who have graduated high school but cannot afford the mere $1200 ($300 per semester) it would take to pay for their technical school or college. One of the young men wants to become a PA, to be provide medical care of the children at the orphanage, but had to stop school after two semesters because there just isn’t any more money for his schooling. It’s frustrating because most of these costs are so cheap for most people in the US and Europe–six semesters of trade school at $1200 is absolutely unheard of. The younger children need just $50 per month to receive full clothing, education, and food support; a significant amount of their diet comes from Child Aid International, but consists primarily of rice and occasional vegetables, with a slight deficiency in variety and protein. 

If you would like to help, you can sponsor or half-sponsor a child for $50 or $25 a month with His Hands Support Ministries. I personally verified sponsorship records and end finances received by Isabel from this volunteer organization, and 100 percent of the funds they receive go to Isabel–not the case with large, admin-heavy organizations like Compassion International. For some people, this sponsorship is literally just the cost of one fancy date a month; for others, it’s the price of a cup of coffee a day. And it makes a huge difference. 

Alternatively, if you would like to help fund someone’s college or trade school, get in touch with me at jen at becominghero.ninja, and I will coordinate with His Hands Support Ministries to find a way to make your special donation 501(c)3 tax exempt. 

And finally, please share and tell as many people about Isabel’s work as possible!

Thank-you, as always, for your superhero work.

Want more ways to make a difference? Get superheroalerts sent to you weekly with a free fiction digest. Or check out today’s Random Act of Kindness from my special Random Act of Kindness Generator!

http://becominghero.ninja/despite-bullets-and-hunger-isabel-saves-orphans-in-liberia-superheroalert-dogood/

Grant me the confidence...

There’s another round of internet whack-a-mole on the go. Early yesterday there was what the young people call a ‘self-own’, with some man bizarrely stating that he’d never known a hetero woman to be an ‘enthusiastic participant’ during sex. My initial thought was “Well you’re doing sex wrong.”, I suspect many of us came to that conclusion, before the ‘but...’ crept in. If she’s not enthusiastic, is he still continuing? That’s bleak when you think about it, full disclosure here, I have had sexual encounters so awful that I’ve completely detached, and just waited for them to be over. It’s a learned response to previous trauma, relaxed muscles are less likely to be damaged than tensed ones. ‘Brad’ is possibly an example of Germaine Greer’s very poorly articulated line between unsatisfactory sex, and rape. An analogy was used frequently when I was growing up, “It hurts when I do *insert stupid action, like banging your head on a wall.*” “Well stop doing it, then.” My parents, in their misguided way, trying to explain the futility of repeating an unproductive action, and hoping for a different outcome, their version of “If you always do what you’ve always done...”

There are many possible reasons that ‘Brad’ doesn’t feel his female participants are enthusiastic. The most probable is that he’s insensitive to their wants and needs, prioritising his own, and then wondering why he’s not producing ‘When Harry Met Sally’ performances. The second most probable is that he has unrealistic expectations, sit down, Brad, Meg Ryan was acting in that scene, it wasn’t a real orgasm. Some women, in some circumstances, might genuinely react that way, I’m going to make a sweeping generalisation, and assume that most of us don’t, most of the time. (Or, it could be me ‘doing it wrong’, I’ll accept that, if that’s the case.) 

The proliferation of pornography is a part of it, too. I remember when all this was fields, and, yes, you’d occasionally find a discarded porn magazine in one of those fields. The boys would say “Phwoar!”, the girls would say “Yuck, that’s disgusting!”, because that’s what we were supposed to do, conditioned that sex was all about the in-and-out-for-making-babies. Our Mums didn’t like it, they only put up with it because our Dads wanted it, it was a dirty thing, lights off, pull my nightie back down when you’ve finished, and don’t wipe your dick on the curtains. Now, there’s all the porn, none of us are more than a couple of clicks from a dick, and it’s moved on from soggy magazines under hedges, and mysterious unlabelled VHS tapes. I ‘came of age’ during that period, and the less-than-now availability of pornography was still impacting expectations, I have a very clear memory of an ex-boyfriend’s best mate assuming he was ‘in’ with a girl, because ‘everybody’ said she was a slag. They’d decided to have some good, old-fashioned P-in-V on someone’s driveway (classy), and his recount of the experience was “I had to spit on it to get it in.” Vile. I was 17 when it dawned on me that some boys had absolutely no understanding of the mechanics of the female anatomy, and expected us to be ‘ready’ when they were. The women in porn are ‘ready’ straight away.

We’re not the women in porn, though, and I think that’s where the ‘enthusiasm’ misconception has crept in. There’s a gulf between the Penis Beaker people, and the pornography-expectations, as was demonstrated by ‘Scott’ joining the debate, with his insistence that women ‘claim’ to enjoy sex, but are biologically programmed only to do so when they’re fertile. Sit down, ‘Scott’, there’s this not-so-little structure called the clitoris, its only purpose is sexual pleasure, and it doesn’t have that silly old ‘recharge’ period like your apparatus, we can go all day if we want to. (Don’t get me started on the type of bloke who does know where the clitoris is, and demonstrates this by jabbing away at it like he’s trying to re-ignite a dodgy boiler pilot-light.) I’m not here to provide an anatomy lesson to the ‘Scott’ and ‘Brad’ types, the reproductive ‘insert tab A into slot B’ part of their school biology lessons might well have given them the impression that’s all there is to it. 

So, we have ‘Brad’ at one end of the spectrum, repeatedly hitting his own thumb with a hammer, and complaining that his pictures keep falling off the wall, and ‘Scott’ at the other end, insisting that women don’t *really* enjoy sex. I’d like to sit them all down in a room, with Penis Beaker woman, and ‘The correct word is vagina’ Paul, and then just lock the door, and walk away. Human right to freedom of expression, though, even when the expression is quite clearly deluded. ‘To each their own’, she thinks, wrestling with the conundrum that I’m complaining on the internet about other people having differing opinions on the nature of sex and sensuality, when mine haven’t always been clear. 

My opinions and preferences are more clear now than they have ever been, cruel timing on nature’s part, but at least I managed to catch it while my tits still point out, rather than down. For a very, very long time, I had thought that I was ‘broken’, that there was something wrong with me, because not every sexual encounter was full-on bells-and-whistles, and some were worse than that. I had a very long period of being that mute receptacle, waiting for him to finish. I resent that it took me so long to find my ‘no’, and start sleeping in my clothes to deter his demands. I’d been raised to think of sex as something that wives ‘put up with’, and he was very much of the opinion that ‘wifely duty’ was an entitlement. It wasn’t. Especially the way he did it. Some of the responses to ‘Brad’ and ‘Scott’ touch on that, the way some-men whine that partners go cold, or leave, and it just KEEPS happening. Back to “It hurts when I do *this.*”  

I haven’t had ‘many’ sexual partners, but it was always very clear which ones were ‘pre-formatted’ and which were actually responsive. Some of the replies to ‘Brad’ and ‘Scott’ have covered that, just because ‘Susan’ liked it when you did ‘that’, it doesn’t mean it’s going to be a magic wand for every future partner, I hate one-trick ponies. I’m shuddering at one ‘participant’ who seemed pre-programmed to keep doing something after I’d tried to push him away, and told him it wasn’t working for me. In that scenario, I became the ‘unenthusiastic hetero woman’, because I’d backed myself into a corner. Lessons have been learned. 

We learn what we enjoy, and don’t enjoy through experimentation, and communication, not through restrictively-sticking to the same repetitive routine, or by suddenly pulling a ‘new trick’ without checking, especially if it’s one that might cause your partner to scream, and climb out of the window. I’m not advocating pre-fuck agreements in writing, nobody wants that degree of additional admin, but consent is a process, not a single tick-box. ‘Brad’ has done well to notice that his partners haven’t been particularly responsive, he’s one step more evolved than the blokes-in-the-pub I’ve heard, complaining that “It’s like shagging a sack of spuds.” Lads, you can explain the offside rule in infinite detail, but you’re still aiming for the wrong goal if you think porn-sex is how the real thing is going to be.  ‘Scott’ has pulled the “Women don’t enjoy sex.” argument out of his arse, or he might just be having sex with the same women as ‘Brad.’, OR they might both be sleeping with members of the Penis Beaker club.  Women can and do enjoy sex, when we’re active participants, rather than passive receptacles. The whole ‘sex ban’ furore has illustrated how many people still perceive sex as ‘insert tab A into slot B’. “That ain’t it, chief.” as the internet says.

I’m as sorry for ‘Brad’ and ‘Scott’ as I am for the people who think that sex, and sexual intimacy is purely a reproductive function. I can’t imagine ever being enthusiastic about only having sex when the calendar says so. I’m sure some people genuinely do have fulfilling sex lives ‘within the sanctity of marriage’, but to reduce something that can be utterly phenomenal to a purely procreative function saddens me deeply. I won’t criticise people who choose to ‘do it with the lights off’ just because that’s not my personal preference any more than I’d state that anyone who doesn’t is a pervert. (Perverts are brilliant, as long as everything’s consensual and legal.) I will criticise the Brads and Scotts, for stating their skewed opinions as facts. The ‘confidence of a man on the internet’ irritates me, I’ve had an entire lifetime of being ‘told’, mostly by men, frequently by men who don’t know what they’re talking about. The world is a scary, messy place right now, I’m not having Brad and Scott tell me I’m doing sex wrong.

Everything That Upset the Internet This Week

What is the web-o-sphere angry about this week? A pop star campaigning against blogs, an athletic brand showing off a little bit of body hair and a superhero franchise introducing a gay character for the first time. (Warning: there is a very minor Avengers: Endgame spoiler ahead.) Here’s everything you need to know:

Ariana Grande Calls Blog Writers “Purposeless”

THE STORY: In E! News host Morgan Stewart’s “Nightly Pop” Coachella review, she called Justin Bieber out for lip-synching during his appearance in Ariana Grande’s headlining set and commented on his forehead acne. Bieber tagged Stewart in his response on Twitter, questioning why she spends time “tearing people down.”

Grande then opted to chip in: in response to a fan who tweeted that the entertainment host was seeking attention, Grande said, “They all do. And they all look silly trying to get it.” That tweet has since been deleted.

In another since-deleted tweet, Grande made a larger attack on those who write for digital publications. “People are so lost,” she wrote. “One day everybody that works at them blogs will realize how unfulfilled they are and how purposeless what they’re doing is and hopefully shift their focus elsewhere. That’s gonna be a beautiful ass day for them! I can’t wait for them to feel lit inside.”

THE REACTION:

E! is hardly a "blog" and calling someone's career purposeless is condescending and rude, no matter how you may feel about it. we can't all make bank making pop music

— Liv (@OliviaJRowe) April 24, 2019

Without all the blogs and the vlogs and the columns and the reporting, her career wouldn’t be where it is today… c’est la vie!

— MiileyD (@MiileyD) April 24, 2019

It’s called doing there job just like how you’re doing your job so I don’t know how doing a job unfulfilling and purposeless. Y’all need to stop acting like BLOGS aren’t some of the main reasons why y’all are known worldwide.

— REAL YAAD MAN 🇯🇲 (@iamteviii) April 24, 2019

RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE RAGE: This is the second time this week an A-list celebrity has taken to Twitter to share their distaste of blogs. (To read our defense of Fug Girls after Olivia Munn’s attempted takedown, head here.)

Here’s the thing: if you feel that you’re being unfairly treated, you’re have the right to speak up. Critical coverage, however, isn’t exactly unfair when you’ve voluntarily put yourself in a spotlit position. They can have their opinion, and you can have yours.

Grande clarified, in an additional since deleted tweet, that she didn’t mean to lump Stewart’s comments in with the larger scope of journalism. “There’s a big difference between journalism and what was happening in that video,” she said. “I was hurt for my friend.”

Nike Ad Features Female Armpit Hair

THE STORY: A new campaign image from Nike Women shows singer Annahastasia stretching her arm over her head and, in the process, showing her underarm hair. On Nike’s Instagram account, the photo is captioned “Big mood.” Since TK, the post has recieved over TK comments.

Here’s an example of what those comments look like: “That’s disgusting. Like please don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted this woman is brave enough to go around like that but that’s horrible. It’s not cute. Stop this feminist bullshit saying this shit is ok. Its not, it’s wrong. There are some things that women could do but just really fucking shouldn’t cause it looks rotten and disgusting and this is one of them, I get that it’s natural but it’s not cool.”

THE REACTION:

I’m confused. You expect woman who actually like to workout to wear your clothing that, at times, are 75% mesh and or see through but then come out with this armpit hair (ew) ad to promote Feminism. @Nike pic.twitter.com/rPYGlSzMtt

— Jillian Malloy (@itsjilly_duhh) April 26, 2019

https://t.co/zAhyrfqd1G Yeah this ain't selling any sports bras. Yes it is "natural" but so is nose hair and body odor. GROSS!

— Jennifer (@jenniferglynn) April 25, 2019

RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE RAGE: People still insist on policing female body hair? Weird. Your body, your choice. Shaming female bodies for their biological functions is how we become conditioned to reject our natural selves.

Avengers: Endgame Features First LGBTQ Character

THE STORY: Avengers: Endgame is the first MCU film to feature a canonically gay character, making it the first in the 22 movie franchise to even acknowledge the existence of LGBTQ people.

Endgame director Joe Russo, who actually portrayed the character onscreen, explained the importance of the moment to Deadline: “Representation is really important. It was important to us as we did four of these films, we wanted a gay character somewhere in them. We felt it was important that one of us play him, to ensure the integrity and show it is so important to the filmmakers that one of us is representing that.”

Russo plays an unnamed character who appears early in the film, where he casually discusses a date with another man during a support group led by Captain America.

THE REACTION:

"After 22 films we thought an openly gay, completely anonymous character should have three full lines of dialogue."

— Scott Weinberg (@scottEweinberg) April 27, 2019

*VERY SLIGHT AVENGERS ENDGAME SPOILER*

I'm still laughing that the first openly gay person in MCU is a stranger in a grieving session

— Dan the Dancer ✨ (@DVruno) April 27, 2019

AVENGERS: ENDGAME has the series' first openly gay character, say the headlines!

…who has no name, appears in one scene, and has maybe three lines, says the actual film.

It's a good scene, but let's not go overboard celebrating Marvel's boundless inclusiveness just yet.

— Andrew Todd (@mistertodd) April 25, 2019

RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE RAGE: Progress moves slowly in the Marvel Universe. After all, it took 18 films to get a non-white lead in a standalone film and 21 to get a woman as the top-billed character. The Avengers is a massive global franchise, and this character does represent a small step in a positive direction. Hopefully, it’s just the first of many steps.

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