Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Though jeering at self-help manuals is a personal hobby I like to advertise, there's a very good reason why this slogan has become engrained our minds and conversations over the last decade. And it's not that thin trace of comedy that, much like a Scratch 'n Sniff sticker, fades wretchedly as it's handed around. It's the wise implication: neither men nor women are from Earth. The realm of sex and relationships is, even to ourselves, a decidedly alien one. Bottomless blood-red canyons, green venomous smog: pick whichever metaphor appeals to you more.
For example, how does one calm an angry post-Brazilian-Wax rash? What is the modus operandi of a gestagen-implant contraceptive? Are vibrators dishwasher-safe? Sadly, not even a wise older sibling can answer the most crucial questions: like why the missionary position is so popular. Where does youthful curiosity end and bi-sexuality begin? At what age should the libido begin to ebb, if ever? And the most important question of all, what's normal, and what's just plain kinky?
Now there's one word that should be deleted from the otherwise delightful English language. "Normality" is nothing but the attempt to slap a good name on barring exploration and restricting diversity. In truth, normality does not exist. When it comes to sex, every action, every maneuver is purely subjective.
The boundaries of kink can be epic or microscopic. At some point, everyone must make a concentrated and careful examination of where, exactly, those personal boundaries are --- irrespective what is "normal." Your third-grade teacher, your parents and your favorite TV-show have no say. This is especially difficult within the States' Puritan moral structure, which has bafflingly surpassed its natural life expectancy by 400 years.
So I thought I'd include some examples from the only truly reliable source I have: my own sex life. Try out your kink-o-meter here. Grab a friend. Make popcorn.
Things I find unacceptable: The "thrill" of unprotected sex, anything that draws blood, anything better suited to take place in the lavatory, anything that reinterprets the term "petting zoo."
Things I find acceptable (though not necessarily appetizing): nearly everything else.
Things that turn me on: Miriam Makeba's "Yetentu Tizaleny." When I hear it, my skin heats and I find myself digging through my kitchen for chocolate. Avocados. Something about the way you can slice them in half, twist the two halves around the pit, then spoon out the flesh. If you know someone who peels avocados, give them a hug. They probably need one.
It's surprisingly easy. Scale the canyon wall, let the green fog lift and clarify, as independently as possible, where you stand. Then talk about it. And if you're out of suitable chatting partners for the summer, feel free to e-mail me.
Katja Schubl is a Cavalier Daily sex columnist. She can be reached at katja@cavalierdaily.com
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