Let an Expert Handle This (OR “This is Not the Sex Education You’re Looking For”)

It’s no secret that United States of America has a pretty pathetic excuse for sex education on the middle- and high-school level…even most colleges don’t have the resources that their students really need. And even those who are fortunate enough to get a decent education are most certainly learning nothing about the pleasurable aspects of sex.

But I can see that the media is working (however slowly) toward a more sex-positive outlook for adults, and trying to bring more pleasure into the bedroom. And while I appreciate their efforts, I feel more fearful with every article I read that the ‘information’ that’s being distributed regarding sex is doing more damage than good.

The problem is this: popular personalities without any experience or education in the matter are being appointed as “experts” by the media, and many of the messages they’ve been broadcasting recently have been dangerous, to say the least.

Back in November, my Facebook Feed blew up in a fit of rage when former UFC Women’s Bantamweight Champion (I’m not going to pretend I know what that means) and Maxim’s appointed sex advice columnist Ronda Rousey publicly labeled lubricant used for vaginal intercourse as “lazy.” I have seen with my own eyes how much damage lube-shaming has done to so many women’s potential for satisfaction in the sack. I recall very vividly the time I offered a customer a free lube sample and watched her eyes get wide and her head shake vigorously, rejecting what I thought was a generous and exciting little gift from my place of work.

The fact of the matter is: a little (glycerin-free, paraben-free) lube never hurt anybody. You may not feel that you need it, but it’s never going to make it worse (KY most definitely will). A little extra slip takes the pressure off your body to self-lubricate, and can be especially helpful with toys that have a little more drag due to their materials. At the end of the day, it’s a bottle of fucking liquid that’s meant to make sex better, and thousands of women are offended and horrified by its existence. This needs to be resolved.

Last week, perpetually half-naked gay blogger Davey Wavey released his “Bottom Bible”, chock full of his advice for gracefully taking it up the ass. There were a few helpful hints in there that I can agree with, but there were also some points that came up that I thought were bound to leave a few followers…”butthurt?” While his co-host Colby Melvin makes the *ahem* radical notion that he enjoys topping men larger than him, Davey himself shoots down that image pretty promptly. He also encourages the use of lubricants with numbing agents, which people really need to stop doing. If you can’t feel your asshole while it’s getting fucked, tissue stands a much higher chance of tearing. Have you ever torn your anal tissue? IT’S. A. NIGHTMARE. And on top of all that…who knows what those AdamMale toys are made of…

Lucas Brooks: Butt Stuff Expert
Lucas Brooks: Butt Stuff Expert

And I’m not saying all of this to build myself up in any way (although I could use the work…); I’m a certified sex educator from two different sex toy retailers. I’ve been named a top 100 sex blogger from a few different websites. But I have no degrees in anything sex-related. I was a theatre major, for god’s sake (although, to be fair, that gives me the same credentials as Dan Savage). In the great landscape of sex education, I am but a padawan.

Our country is chock full of sex educators. Knowledgeable, attractive, charming sex educators. Why, then, do we keep seeing folks with zero credentials whatsoever getting paid to give sex advice, while we hang out on the sidelines, yelling “OH COME ON!” like we’re angry football spectators? Do these websites and publications really think that it’s so hard to convince people to read about sex that they have to post a famous face next to it? I’m pretty sure the curiosity can win them on its own…

If you really want to learn about sex, seek out those who actually know what we’re talking about. Check out my fabulous fellow bloggers in my sidebar. Listen to podcasts like Sex Nerd Sandra, Sex Ed a Go-Go, and Why Are People Into That? Attend a workshop at a sex-positive retailer like The Pleasure Chest or Good Vibrations. Follow folks who can provide you with both brain- AND eye-candy like Dr. Chris Donaghue or Reid Mihalko or Dr. Zhana. There are so many brilliant educators out there that can provide you with the knowledge that you seek, that will actually make your sex life better, without throwing in any of that shame regarding your body or your desires.

And if any publications are look for a sex advice columnist, I am available… *bats eyelashes*

SEX EDUCATORS/WRITERS/NERDS: Feel free to sound off in the comments!



TUX: Formalwear for Your Phallus

So, this popped up on my feed today…


Yes, that is what you think it is. A tuxedo…for one’s penis.

Where do I begin?

Let’s see…

Well, as you may recall, I am a very big fan of many of Lelo’s products. I am a fan of the fact that they sent me their new Loki and Hugo prostate massagers, which I will be sharing with you once my ass regains its appetite. I am not so much a fan of the fact that they hiked the prices of their products up by 15-20% for no reason.

And this… I am definitely not a fan of this.

Lelo’s website boasts that “TUX™ is to men what lingerie is to women.” This statement makes me legitimately angry. Decent intimate apparel for men is extremely difficult to come by. Every example of men’s “Lingerie” that I’ve come by either:
1) has the brand’s name plastered all over it,
2) is made of shit material,
3) has more of a cross-dressing aesthetic (for which I judge no one, because some of these guys rock it beautifully and I’m happy that this exists for them, but it’s not what a lot of us are looking for), or
4) pretty much parodies the penis.

TUX™ is clearly the latter, and from a company that describes itself as a luxury brand, I expect more. There was a point where Lelo was making some really lovely lingerie for women (what became of it, I can’t be certain), as well as some swanky loungewear for the gentlemen. I had hoped we’d see more of that, with a little more variety. Alas, Lelo seems to think this is what men (and their poor partners) want to accentuate their sex lives with.

Lelo has designed some truly splendid products for the female anatomy, and a handful of items that have left my butt feeling very happy, but I don’t get the impression they take the penis very seriously at all (Exhibit A: Pino).

Dear Lelo, as someone who is very well versed in penises and those who own them, I humbly volunteer to consult you on future penis-oriented products so that something like this does not happen again. Because this…this is not a good idea. Especially if one has to get it dry-cleaned.

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for some decent masculine apparel, Greg Homme makes some non-ridiculous undergarments for guys that are worth exploring, and I found some cute shit on Etsy.

Springtime for Cancer

This is not a post about sex. Because frankly, it hasn’t been a sexy week on this planet. I’ll get back to cock rings and butt stuff once we’ve all had time to cheer up a bit. But for now…some reality.

Well, cancer is certainly having a fucking field day in 2016, am I right? The world barely had time to recover from its loss of Motorhead’s Lemmy Kilmister at the end of December before David Bowie was taken from us Monday, a far too early date. I am sorry to say that I was not well versed in Bowie’s discography, but I am a very firm believer that Labyrinth is one of the best things human-kind has ever manifested.

Wednesday shook me up quite a bit with a rumor that One Direction was breaking up (nowhere close on the disaster scale, I know, but it hits a little closer to home for me, personally.) A quick Twitter search informed me that this was false, but I barely had time to exhale my massive sigh of relief before I saw the headline that informed me that Brian Bedford had passed away. Of all of the losses we’ve had this week, this is the one that hits me the hardest. Most folks will know him as the voice of Disney’s Robin Hood, but I had the privilege of seeing him on stage in the Stratford Shakespeare Festival multiple times since I was a kid, and he has given some of the most impressive performances I’ve ever seen.

Not even 24 hours later, we lost Alan Rickman. Another extremely deep cut for me. I had long hoped that I would one day be able to see him on stage as well, because I had heard such wonderful things, and that is one theatrical experience that I will never have. Since the very first time I saw him on the screen, he made me want to be a better actor. He still does, of course, and always will.

As if that was enough, in the last day alone, cancer has also claimed the lives of Rene Angelil and Dan Haggerty.

This is getting scary.I’m not a religious fellow. I never have been. But at times like this, my spiritual side kicks in, and says “Hey…something odd is happening right now. And I’m not sure I want to know what it is.” At this point, I am almost afraid to go to sleep at night because I might wake up to find we’ve lost another artistic inspiration. I’ve never been one to get super worked up about the deaths of celebrities, because I rarely feel personally attached to them… the only exception being Robin Williams. But I can’t deny that the talents we’ve lost this week have taken a sizable bite out of my spirit.

All of this comes at a time when I am particularly sensitive about my own artistic legacy…having decided to (for lack of a better word) abandon my pursuit of a mainstream acting career, move out of New York City, refocus my talents on more independent art forms, and essentially, forego the fame that I had once dreamed of as a youngster. It is almost certain that my work, and ultimately, my death, will not have the impact that we have witnessed from these brilliant artists over the last week. For as long as I can remember, a large part of my lust for fame as a performer has been driven by my fear of my own eventual demise. But somewhere, in the very recent past, I became grown up enough to recognize that I may not be equipped for such “greatness”, that I may not be the legend I once thought I could be, and that I am perfectly okay with that. While my love for the stage runs deep, and my need to inspire others stays strong, I don’t feel as much of a need to do so on such a grand scale. I can have just as significant of an effect anywhere else, from the fringe festival stage to the back of a bar. Those who matter will remember me, and they’ll remember me as I was, not what they dreamed I would be from afar.

I don’t look forward to that day, by any means, and keep hoping that some divine power will extend my time on this planet way longer than necessary, but there’s something refreshing about letting go of the longing for artistic immortality.  That said, I will never stop drawing inspiration from the heroes we’ve lost this week.

In the meantime… Rest in Peace, you genius gentlemen.


Goodbye ’15: Saturn’s Revenge

The end of 2015 is upon us, and I am observing it’s closure with my usual slew of emotions… optimistic for year to come, yet wistful for the year that’s passed. I have never been one who is eager to tell a previous year to “suck a bag of dicks”, because however difficult the year may have been, I am always grateful for the opportunities it brings, and proud of the progress I’ve made. I always end each year in a place I never thought I would be at the start of it.

That said, I am very happy to bid adieu to 2015.

IAMOCP StageThis may seem harsh, considering all of the gifts this year has brought me as a writer and performer, and I certainly don’t intend to bite the hand that feeds me, but this has been a really hard year for me. Possibly the hardest ever.

Some would feel inclined to blame this on my Saturn Return. Whether or not you believe, or even enjoy astrology is your choice, but as I look back on everything that happened between January and October…Saturn sure sounds like a likely culprit to me. The short version, if you aren’t familiar: every 28-29 years, Saturn pops back into the spot in the sky that it was in when you were born. The first one serves as a sort of wake up call to grow up and figure out where the hell your life is going. I guess it’s not the worst gift you could receive from a planet named after a god (ripped off from another god) who swallowed his own offspring to prevent them from overthrowing him, but to say it’s been “a bumpy ride” would be a dramatic understatement.

To recap…

  • I organized a panel of exquisite performance artists for CatalystCon.
  • I brought my one-man show “Cootie Catcher” to Fringe festivals in five different cities, two of which I had never been to.
  • I performed in burlesque shows in eight different cities.
  • I was inducted into two burlesque troupes, Sirlesque (as an honorary Sir…for now) and White Elephant Burlesque Society, both of which I was beyond thrilled to join.
  • I wrote a brand new one-man show and debuted it for SOLOCOM in New York City.
  • After long contemplating and debate, I finally gathered up the courage to walk away from New York and pursue a new home in Boston (work in progress).
Nom nom nom.
Nom nom nom.

Like I said, I has been far from a bad year, but it has also been a lot of other things. Lonely. Exhausting. Financially draining. Confusing. Humbling. But these are the blocks that build character (at least, I hope they are…) and I am extremely proud and grateful for the opportunities I’ve had and the progress I’ve made.

I am eager to see what 2016 has in store for me. I will be taking a year off from the Fringe circuit to recoup, and focusing on my writing and sex education work, as well as developing my skills in burlesque. I will still be putting plenty of effort into my solo work as well, but will be keeping that a little closer to home.

I feel good about it. Nervous (or as my friend and former high school art teacher has taught me to say, “significantly concerned”), but good. I’m ready for a clean slate.

In short…BRING IT!