In 1993, Danny Resnic was having anal sex during a casual hookup in Miami Beach when his partner’s latex condom broke. Resnic had been using condoms ever since the man he describes as “my best friend and love of my life” died from AIDS in 1984. “I have always been looking for a monogamous relationship and was never really happy with casual sex,” he says, but in the gay subculture of Miami Beach, where he’d moved from California in 1991, casual sex was the norm. When Resnic slept with men he didn’t know, he insisted on condoms.
After several weeks of worrying about the broken condom, Resnic got tested for HIV. The test came back positive.
The odds of contracting HIV from a single act of unprotected anal sex are extremely low—experts put the risk below 1 in 100. “I couldn’t believe it,” Resnic says today. “‘Cause I was really vigilant. I lost all my friends during the AIDS crisis, and I used condoms religiously. And then when one broke, I thought, ‘How could that happen?’ ”
Resnic became obsessed with answering that question: He read everything he could find about condoms at his local public library in Miami. He learned how latex condoms are made (by dipping phallic molds into vats of liquid latex, which is peeled off after it dries), and how they are regulated (the Food and Drug Administration considers condoms medical devices and dictates how they are manufactured and labeled). He discovered that three publicly traded companies—the makers of LifeStyles, Durex, and Trojan—controlled almost the entire market. And he figured out that, since the introduction of the rolled latex condom in the 1920s, not much about condoms had changed.
I met Resnic for lunch in Los Angeles last September and was struck by his intensity all these years later. To illustrate his astonishment at what he’d learned about condoms, he gestured at the salt and pepper shakers and bottle of olive oil between us. “Everything on this table—these jars, these nozzles—every year they come out with a better product,” he said. “But not the condom! And I found that baffling. I couldn’t understand it. I was like, ‘I don’t get it. Why haven’t they made some crazy new design? Why is it still the same thing, and no one likes it?’ ”
Resnic decided to rectify the problem. He set out to build a better condom—one that he hoped would make protected sex feel as good as unprotected sex (a guy can dream!), and one that wouldn’t break like the one that broke on him. Resnic set aside everything he’d learned about latex condoms and tried to start from scratch, asking: What might a condom look like if it were designed with pleasure in mind, instead of mass production and profit margins? He had taken some product design classes in college, but didn’t know much about biomedical engineering. He spent years thinking, sketching, and researching patents. In 2001, Resnic bought some wood at Home Depot, carved it into a mold with a jigsaw, sanded it down, dipped it in liquid latex, and created the first prototype of his condom in his home, which was, at the time, a house boat on Marina del Rey.
But Resnic didn’t want to stick to latex. He began experimenting with silicone—the flexible, durable material found in spatulas and charity awareness bracelets. He found a silicone manufacturer to formulate a recipe with the precise combination of tensile strength and elasticity he was looking for, and then found a medical device manufacturer to make silicone prototypes. Using grant money from the National Institutes of Health, he conducted small clinical trials with condoms that fit much more loosely than latex condoms, designed to be pulled on like a mitten instead of rolled on, allowing freedom of movement inside, and to provide sensation for men from the interior of the condom, which is lubricated. (In 2014, a former employee accused Resnic of misusing NIH funds; Resnic denies the allegations.)
All the while, Resnic kept tweaking. He says he’s developed more than 127 versions of what he now calls the Origami condom, because it is folded rather than rolled. “The whole concept of the rolled condom is flawed,” Resnic told me shortly before asking our server for a Mediterranean lamb burger. “The premise is transferring sensation through the material. That’s equivalent to trying to taste your lunch with Saran wrap on your tongue.” …
People into BDSM are psychologically normal and healthy.
by Michael Castleman M.A.
Both the book and movie versions of Fifty Shades of Grey got a good deal right about erotic bondage-discipline-sado-masochism (BDSM). But Fifty Shades also got one thing horribly wrong. It depicts the dominant (dom, top), Christian Grey, as the product of horrendous child abuse and implies that it propelled him into BDSM. In other words, Fifty Shades plays into the widely held belief that those involved in BDSM are psychologically damaged if not pathological.
However, the research shows that people into BDSM are psychologically healthy and no more likely to have suffered child abuse or sexual trauma than anyone else. In fact, a recent Dutch study shows that compared with the general population, in some ways BDSMers just might be psychologically healthier.
What Fifty Shades Got Right
First, I’d like to commend author E.L. James for her generally accurate depiction of BDSM relationships:
• Communication. Before Grey lays a hand on his sub, Anastasia Steele, they discuss in great detail how they want to play. This is quite typical—and a foundation of BDSM. Dom/sub play opens a huge realm of possibilities, and doms and subs discuss them at length, revealing their fantasies and hearing the other person’s. In fact, some BDSMers consider these discussions the most intimate element of their play.
• Negotiation of limits. Grey presses Steele on her personal limits, the hard boundaries she can’t conceive of crossing, and the soft ones that she might cross under the right circumstances. Both players declare their limits, and pledge to respect the other’s. As a result, BDSM is play, not abuse.
• Safe words. Grey tells Steele that if she feels at all uncomfortable at any time, she is always free to invoke their safe word, for example “red light.” Upon hearing it, doms pledge to cease all play immediately and re-negotiate the scene. Safe words mean that, ironically, the person ultimately in control of BDSM scenes is the sub.
• Contracts. Grey hands Steele a proposed contract governing their play and they discuss it point by point. Steel agreeing to some clauses, modifies others, and nixes a few. Not all BDSM players codify their negotiations in written contracts, but many do.
• Intimacy. Steele is surprised by how intimate BDSM play feels, and how emotionally close it brings her to her lover. Aficionados say that BDSM produces a depth of intimacy beyond what’s possible in ordinary (“vanilla”) sex.
James captures these aspects of BDSM quite well. Unfortunately, she’s poorly informed about its psychology. ...
It may seem like perplexing question — there are different kinds? But in fact, in an era of the growing acceptance of casual sex, a better understanding of polyamory and a curiosity about open relationships, there has never been more freedom and opportunity to figure out what works for you.
Because, as one epic chart shows, the kind of relationship that works for one person may not be the kind that works for someone else.
Settling with one person isn't the only way: The chart, designed in 2010 by polyamory and BDSM activist Franklin Veaux and recently shared by sex researcher and New York University professor Zhana Vrangalova, demonstrates how much more complicated and nuanced the options are.
"It's a great reminder that there are different strokes for different folks and no one relationship constellation that works from everyone," Vrangalova told Mic.
The idea for the chart came to Veaux when someone asked him why we even need the word "polyamory," when it seemed like a synonym for open relationships and swinging, he told Mic. "This idea seems to assume that there's really only one kind of non-monogamy, which is kind of silly," Veaux writes in a blog post on Xeromag. ...
Elaine O’Hara was killed by a man with whom she was involved in a BDSM relationship. As a BDSM participant myself, I wonder if we can continue to deny any links between kinky sex and wider societal abuse of women
by Emer O'Toole
In Dublin, Graham Dwyer, a married architect, has been convicted of the murder of Elaine O’Hara, a childcare worker with whom he was engaged in a BDSM relationship. The motive was sexual gratification. O’Hara was vulnerable, suffering from mental health issues, and Dwyer exploited this, banking on the likelihood that her disappearance would be read as suicide. He hid evidence of the murder at the bottom of a reservoir. If it were not for 2013’s unusually hot, dry summer, that’s where the truth would have remained, and Dwyer would be walking free.
A woman is dead: another victim of intimate partner violence. And treating her death with due respect should mean an examination of the social context that allowed a man to convince a woman that his sexual desire to stab and kill her was within the bounds of the acceptable. It should mean attention to the cultural mainstreaming of BDSM.
On Valentine’s Day this year, Universal Pictures released its film adaptation of EL James’s erotic novel Fifty Shades of Grey. Back in 2012, The Guardian asked me to review the book to mark the sale of its ten-millionth copy. I kept it light – riffing on James’s infamously terrible prose and characterisation, and musing as to whether the far-away film version wouldn’t leave us feeling a little less glib and little more, well, worried. The day is come, and I admit a heavier feeling. What is, at heart, the tale of an abusive relationship in which a reluctant, inexperienced and infatuated young girl is controlled and beaten by a rich sadist, is now being offered up as a sweet Valentine’s Day treat for naughty couples.
BDSM communities have been quick to distance themselves from Fifty Shades, and, indeed, from any beliefs or behaviours incompatible with informed, enthusiastic and uncoerced consent. This is because BDSM communities are often, in my experience, very politically switched-on places. However, it’s also my experience that kink communities are reluctant to acknowledge problems with the ideologies underlying their sexual practices, focusing instead on the pleasure or relationship benefits to be gained from BDSM.
I’m making this critique not as a judgmental outsider, but as someone who participates in BDSM behaviours and events and understands the excitement to be found therein. I’m making this critique not as a kink-shamer, but as a challenge to myself: what are my reasons and justifications for inviting or accepting male sexual violence? And, at this point in history, when kink is becoming ubiquitous, I’m calling on all responsible, egalitarian kinksters to take a step back from personal desire and pleasure and ask similar questions.
We live in a sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist society. This gross fact informs our identities, our beliefs and our desires: it’s part of us at the most fundamental cognitive level. A prevalent theory in kink communities is that BDSM creates a sandbox or play space around impulses that have their roots in sexism or other prejudice, consensually mirroring non-consensual societal power dynamics. The sandbox allows role play that expurgates, inverts or otherwise contains hierarchical desires. It may give subs control over situations that would – in reality – make them feel powerless, or allow doms to cathartically express violent urges: in short, the sandbox gets it all out of our systems. ...
From the beginning, it was apparent this was a court case like no other.
The jury was informed on the first day that "acts of stabbing" were an "essential part" of Graham Dwyer and Elaine O'Hara's sexual relationship.
For many, "knife play" and "blood play" were foreign terms.
It seemed surprising such an extreme sexual sub-culture could exist in Ireland.
Bondage and sadomasochism are not common terms in the eminently respectable suburbs of Blackrock and Foxrock.
But as details of the trial emerged, it became apparent a thriving Irish BDSM (Bondage, Dominance and Submission, and Sadomasochism) community existed.
The BDSM sex dating site O'Hara and Dwyer met on, alt.com, claims that more than 28,000 Irish swingers, singles and couples avail of its services. Fet life - a sort of Facebook for 'kinksters' - has a 10,000-strong following in Ireland.
There are also regular BDSM master classes run around the country, suspension stage shows in Temple Bar, erotic arts festivals in County Down, fetish nights in Cork.
Despite the details that have emerged during the court case, a degree of mystery continues to surround the BDSM world.
This is partially due to the term BDSM itself - a clumsy umbrella phrase that encompasses a huge range of sexual preferences and persuasions.
It refers to anything from wearing a pair of novelty handcuffs to being hoisted into the air on hooks, or stabbed with retractable blades.
"There is huge variety within BDSM," Beth Wallace, founder of Sex Festival Bliss Ireland, explained. ...
Only 15% of Americans age 18 to 29 would ever consider being in an open relationship, according to a new survey conducted by the Huffington Post and YouGov. That proportion is nearly identical to — not higher than — the numbers for adults age 30 to 44 and 45 to 64.
The survey also found that 18% of 18- to 29-year-olds have been in an open relationship, while only 14% have attended a party where they engaged in sexual activity with multiple partners.
It turns out we young folks might not be as edgy or non-monogamous as everyone assumes. And that's totally OK.
Overexcited headlines: This lukewarm attitude toward open relationships isn't the edgy portrait of millennials the media often paints in articles such as Rolling Stone 's conversation-starting feature on millennials' sex lives. "Millennials realize that they're pushing the boundaries of the sexual revolution beyond what their parents might have expected and their grandparents could even conceive," Alex Morris excitedly reported.
Indeed, Amy Moors, a University of Michigan sex researcher, told Mic, "Questioning the often unrealistic ideals and expectations of monogamy is having a moment right now."
But despite the increased interest in casual sex and hookups, data suggests that millennials are having sex about as frequently as previous generations. And while we're surrounded by a culture that's more sex-positive than ever, the 20-something dating landscape itself might be tamer than we envision.
Moors' research shows that many young men and women have positive attitudes towards open relationships and express an interest in swingers' parties and threesomes, but most couples still don't actually engage in non-monogamy. ...
Private clubs for sexual swinging won’t be allowed to locate within 1,000 feet of schools, churches, daycares or parks in Tennessee.
The state Senate and House each voted resoundingly for the new law Monday night, without a single vote in opposition. The bills still must be signed by Gov. Bill Haslam to become law.
The state law would give Nashville double protection against swingers clubs. Last week, Metro Council passed a zoning change with a similar intent, blocking private clubs from properties zoned for office uses.
Both measures target the efforts of The Social Club, a Nashville swingers club, which planned to move into a former medical office at 520 Lentz Drive in Madison, a property adjacent to Goodpasture Christian School.
A final amendment on the state law specifically targets private clubs that allow participation and viewing of sex acts — a narrowing from prior wording that included all types of private clubs, which are distinguished in Nashville as places governed with membership fees.
The law also does not address adult entertainment venues, which are defined differently. ...
Wayne Boone's nude months run from June to December. You can wear clothes if you want when you visit him, but these are his nude months, and so he'll be naked—it says so right there on his Couchsurfing profile.
Strangers often find themselves in Boone's home in Eastern Passage, Nova Scotia, for a couple days, a week, or longer—over the past seven years, he says, he's hosted more than 500 travelers.
Knock on his door and he'll greet you in a plush blue robe—to appease his neighbors. But once inside, the robe is off.
With Halifax being the most eastern major city in mainland Canada, and because Boone offers drives from the airport and train station to his home, this is the first Canadian house seen by many travelers.
In his living room, an eight-foot wooden cross with steel shackles leans against a wall holding two different dartboards with suggestions for sexual activities instead of points. The room is full of boxes of sex costumes and stacks of books on religion, home repair, gardening, travel, and the Royal Family. On one shelf, books on astrology and numerology sit behind pictures of his children and the four medals he received in the Navy. The room also features a $500 floor-mounted portable stripper pole.
"My neighbors just look at me [when] I'm going to a party—of course I take my stripper pole, I take my cross, I take my massage table and it's, 'Oh, the freak is going somewhere,'" he says with a shrug.
Boone, 55, has hair that is as gray and long as it will ever be. A whisper of brown in the mustache of his Santa beard jiggles when he speaks in his thick Newfie accent, punctuated with coughs from years of chain smoking.
His heavy, tanned body—he tries to spend four hours a day in the sun—is animated at any moment. Swiveling around, he points to the floor where a fabric chair with a rope and trapeze bar sits. ...