I read my poem “There’s cobwebs on her vagina” tonight over full glasses of rose wine and margarita pizza in an open air restaurant in El Salvador.
Afterwards the table which had been full of laughter went quiet. One of the men said, “Holy shit, that was heavy” and we opened conversation to talk about sex, and specifically women’s needs in sex.
One of the men at the table said, “At what point in history do you think women really began asking for what they need in bed?”
“The last hundred years. To be empowered to ask for what we need in bed we must be empowered period. We must have confidence in our voice and self worth to vocalize anything—inside or outside of the bedroom” I threw in.
At one point on of the men turned and said, “You need to tell these boys who just want to get their rocks off that they suck in bed. You need to tell them so that they learn they can’t be selfish.”
We broke into laughter and one of the women said, “So we’re allowed after a man says, ‘Sorry I came so fast’ to reply ‘That sucked’?”
“Yes”, he replied.
So we made a pact.
To all those boys and men who think that just because you came that sex is finished—it isn’t.
If you finish before us, you can get on your knees and let your tongue do the talking.
There are far too many women not having enough orgasms— this is partially an accountability of knowing our bodies and communicating what we need, but it’s also about men becoming partners who understand it’s not a one way street.
I’ve had sex with so many men who roll over and go “Well….”
Well nothing, mother fuckers, well nothing.
The clitoris has spoken and she’s pist.