Thursday, 9 February 2017

Shout out to my ex

My dad always wanted me to stay away from boys, I mean what father doesn't? Not because they could get me pregnant or break my heart but because he knew what infatuation does to a person. Especially when you're young and your hormones are at their peak. "Once you get a boyfriend, all you'll ever think about is him. You won't be able to concentrate on school or anything because you'll just be thinking of him." I rolled my eyes at this and thought, nah, that's not me. I've got my priorities straight. So naturally, like any naive adolescent, I ignored his warning and got my first boyfriend at 11 years old. (We get it, I'm a moepi.)

I got giddy at the word 'boyfriend' and I felt so cool having one. I think I liked saying I had a boyfriend more than I liked my actual boyfriend. He was pretty but always getting in trouble, he wouldn't sit near me in class but would play four square with Jessica and have water fights with Hinemoa - he had all the makings of a future fuckboy so you can understand why. At school we practically ignored each other so I was able to keep my head down and the only time he would ever have an effect on me is when I'd get nervous walking past him on my way to the bathroom. But after 3pm I would rush home and sometimes rush my homework just to jump on the home computer and mail him on (throwback) Bebo. And that's when my dad's words started to ring true.

Half-way through the year, I ended up breaking up with him (via Bebo mail) because end of year prizegiving was coming up and because I had my eyes set on Dux - I felt like I needed to let Fuckboy Junior go so I could focus on writing recounts and acing fractions. A very selfish move but one my dad would be proud of (if he had known) because I got Dux in the end *hair flick* (but then again it was only intermediate so... *pops head*) and it showed me that you really can do whatever you put your mind to when you drop the dead weight remove the distractions. (And that I should listen to my parents more but whatever that's not the point.)

I'm almost 20 now and I've just had my first serious relationship (well, as serious as you can get at 19). My recent ex may as well have been the same person/Fuckboy Senior because aspects of our relationship were rather similar. The only difference being we did more than just mail each other on Bebo if you know what I mean hehe (we also Facebooked, Facetimed and Snapchatted). For the sake of his privacy, let's just call him Voldemort for he shall not be named.

Our love story is simple. We were close friends for a good 2 years and somewhere along that friendship, I fell in love with him and had to watch him fawn over other girls while I waited for him to realise he was in love with me too. It took a few drunken hook ups with other people in town and blocking each other on social media a few times (you can't say you've been in love if you've never been blocked) for us to come to our senses and make it work. But we did. And it was cool.

Until I started zoning out in my lectures and crying over him liking photos of ridiculously attractive girls on Instagram.

I had fallen so hard for this noseless fuck that my entire mood for the day would be dependent on him. A good morning text with an adjective and 2 x's meant I was gonna be in high spirits and have a great day. Falling asleep on the phone the night before without saying goodnight and not apologizing for it first thing in the morning meant I was gonna hate every male in sight. I also became very possessive and insecure. On the nights he would go out, my ass was up refreshing snapchat every 5 minutes watching everyone's stories 10 times over just to see if he was in the background. If I saw a strand of hair in the corner of his snap that looked a centimetre longer than his own, I'd be sending "Who the fuck is that" messages incessantly until I had proof it didn't belong to another female.

I would get so upset when I saw him following random and extremely attractive girls on Instagram or liking their photos. Not because I felt threatened or as if he was being unfaithful but because I wasn't liking shirtless pics or following people of the opposite sex simply because they were attractive so why was he? I made a conscious effort to avoid doing so because I only had eyes for him and I wanted to reflect that in all my actions, but his Instagram activity didn't reciprocate that same effort and in turn I felt disrespected. I have a terrible habit of overthinking things so the more I thought about this, the more it took a toll on my self-worth. I'd subconsciously start comparing myself to every girl in the photos he liked and it was disheartening as fuck because they were mostly of white girls and if you hadn't noticed yet, I'm quite the dusky maiden and I ain't getting paler any time soon.

When it came to uni... my dad had never been more right. During lectures, I'd miss a few slides because my eyes would be glued to my phone anticipating a reply. In between classes I was either talking to him or about him - doing everything but prepare for my next class which is what I should have been doing. I'd lose a lot of sleep just to talk to him on the phone and I'd be too tired the next morning to make my 9am lectures so come end of year, I had a lot of catching up to do for exams.

Prior to us dating, I had moved away from home to live in a city and attend a university I've had my heart set on for years. I feel like you can't grow if you stay in your comfort zone and moving away was me finally getting out of mine, so despite it being a very selfish act - it was one I was most proud of. Moving away from home also meant moving away from Voldy so once I got into this relationship I started to feel bad for it because I had just sentenced us to long distance. He always said it was okay and it would be worth it but one day something snapped and he reckons, "You never wanted us. You moved away from me because you were selfish." Now I knew how he really felt and bitch, I was shook. A part of me felt if being selfish means depriving him of my pussy presence on the regular so I could get an education then hell yeah, I'm selfish. Dick can't get you a degree. The other part still couldn't help but feel guilty. I felt bad for putting myself before our relationship in that instance so to compensate I tried to put him before everything else. And that's where I fucked up.

You see, I wasn't always a psycho. Some of my sleepless nights were actually spent staying up with him while he pulled all nighters for uni. I'd put off doing my own assignments just so I could help him with his. When he went out, I'd stay up until I got a drunken call at 4am letting me know he got home safely. If he needed to talk about something, big or small, I'd drop whatever I was doing so I could give him my undivided attention - one time I left in the middle of a lecture just to call him when he was really distraught. If it was important to him, it was important to me. Emotional support is one of, if not, the most important thing in any relationship for me so doing all this just seemed standard. My parents didn't really know I had a boyfriend because apparently you're not allowed to have one of those when you're a young Samoan girl (completely different story if you're a boy though) so I'd pull excuses out of my ass and set up alibis just to see him. I also may or may not have taken a taxi in the middle of the night just to go cater to his uh, not so emotional needs. (We get it, I'm still a moepi.)

I constantly felt like I was going out of my way to please him and make sure he was always comfortable only to get half the effort in return. I'd actually have to ask him to put more effort in and it really doesn't feel good when you have to demand to be appreciated. He always argued that I just expected too much from him when all I ever asked for was the the bare minimum, I just wanted freakin' decency. Sometimes he really did make me feel like I expected too much when really I was just accepting too little. It was obvious we had differing ideas on how our relationship was and it started to feel incredibly one-sided. I mean, I was taking $90 taxis to see someone who couldn't even take a $50 flight to see me.

I could sit around and make excuses for him like he's busy but he's trying, or he's just too dumb to realise that the shit he does/doesn't do upsets me but I'd already been doing that the entire relationship and it just did not feel good anymore. I knew I had to end things because my independence had been grossly compromised. And it was entirely my fault. I invested so much into our relationship and continually felt like it wasn't being reciprocated because I no longer felt comfortable being alone and was in constant need of attention and effort. So in true Josie style, I wrote him a heartfelt 'I love you but we're just not on the same page anymore' message on Facebook and with a tentative thumb, I pressed send. I felt like I had broken my own heart with that one motion and I envy my 11 year old self for making it look so damn easy the first time.

And this is the part where the blog turns into a regurgitation of quotes because I couldn't have come to this conclusion without the help of some Indian gurus.

It's such a conflicting state of mind being single. You have this newfound feeling of freedom and independence. You no longer have to consider someone else's feelings when you do things they would otherwise object to (Voldy knows all about this one because he spared no time following back every girl on Instagram post breakup). You're a whole being on your own without the need to depend on anyone else for affirmation and in turn your self-love and self-worth grows and. It. Feels. Mean.

But then 2am comes. You lay in bed and realise your phone hasn't buzzed all day. No one has wished you a good night and no one gave a shit about how your day went. And you think about how much different it would be if you were still in a relationship and next thing you know you have something stuck in your eye. The 2ams don't always come at 2 in the morning either. They sometimes happen at 2 in the afternoon on your lunch break, or when you're sitting in traffic on your way home from work, or when you've got your playlist on shuffle and that Bryson Tiller track comes on. However they come, embrace your 2ams because pain demands to be felt.

Deepak Chopra was on some real shit when he said, "To make the right choices in life, you have to get in touch with your soul. To do this, you need to experience solitude, which most people are afraid of, because in the silence you hear the truth and know the solutions."

Here in my solitude, I hear my truths loud and clear.

1. Love is my dad wanting to fly with me back to Auckland just to see me off for uni and make sure I settle back in okay, love is when my mum makes mashed potatoes when I've had a bad day because she knows it's my favourite food, and love is when my sister puts $30 in my account when I ask for 10 just cos. Love isn't just getting a good morning text everyday or unfollowing girls on Instagram for my sake and love doesn't just come in the form of a 19 year old boy who makes you laugh as hard as he makes you cum.

2. His actions are not and never were a reflection of my self-worth because determine my self-worth. I know I'm amazing and I deserve the world, I just have to get in the habit of reminding myself a lot because he never did. If you're constantly trying to prove your value to someone, you've already forgotten your worth.

3. God forbid I let a boy make me feel guilty for prioritising goals I had long before him. Never will I compromise my standards just to make a man comfortable. And never will I ever forget the magic of my melanin over one either.

4. I really need to fucking delete Instagram.

It's been a couple weeks now and I still find myself listening to Leona Lewis one hit wonders and cutting onions at 2am, I still feel a tinge of annoyance when I see him follow a new girl on Instagram and I still zoom in on his hands in photos because I miss having them around my neck holding them during prayer circles. But I welcome these feelings because they remind me that I'm still not quite comfortable being alone. And until I am, I won't be holding anyone's anything any time soon.

There's no shame in loving yourself by becoming the person you have the potential to be as you wait for someone to love you the way you deserve to be loved. There's no shame in being selfish either. The most important relationship you'll ever have is with yourself so cater to it before you even think of catering to anyone else.

Despite everything, Voldy is and always will be so special to me and I'll choke up just trying to find the right words to describe how much this son of a bitch actually means to me. Do I still love him? Of course. I'll always love him. But right now I just need to love myself more.

No hard feelings towards my ex and shit but... later bo.

Gone Girl

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

The sex ed I wish I got

"I just feel like it could've been better." If you ever want to make a girl feel shit about her first time having sex, those are the words you say to her. To really twist the knife in, say it to her right after she gets dressed and sits timidly on your family couch not knowing what to do with herself. In fact, don't even look at her while you say it either. I guarantee you it will make her want to go home, sew her flaps together and never look another boy in the eye again.

How do I know? Because those are the ever so comforting words I got from the boy I had sex with for the first time and that's exactly how I felt when he spoke them to me. It was truly romantic.


I'm sure every girl at one point in their lives had this idea of losing their virginity as some kind of super romantic and magical experience where your heart bursts into a sea of rose petals and doves will shoot out of your vagina. I know I did, and because of this assumption and the high hopes I had for my fanny's first dicking down, I was sadly disappointed. I'm telling you right now that it is far from that. At least for me it was. The only thing bursting was my hymen and it felt more like someone shot me in the vagina because first of all, that shit hurt. Now, I don't want to put any of you budding lovers out there off sex, so before I continue, let me just make it clear that this experience will be different for everyone! I know girls who could only manage a fraction of the dick because the pain and discomfort was too much for them (kia kaha to all the half-virgins out there, I'm praying for your walls) and I also know girls with vaginas built like bionic woman who felt no pain at all and oh, how I envy them.

Let me just start off by saying "Netflix n chill" is no myth and I found that out first hand (job) for myself. I also found out you don't actually need Netflix to "Netflix n chill" because "pirated movies on your PlayStation n chill" also has the same effect. Heck, you could even "feed the homeless n chill" and you may very well still end up with your legs being pinned up on either side of your head. Hormones simply have no chill.

I also want to clarify that this isn't going to be the fourth instalment of 50 Shades of Grey so take your hands out of your pants right now. Reading this will not make you feel like you're inside my vagina. It's not that kind of blog post and even if it was, it wouldn't be enough to turn you on. It didn't even turn me on while it was happening so that alone should speak volumes.

Okay, here we go. Mum and Dad, if you're reading this... please don't.

It was 2014, I was 17 and in my last year of high school. It was also a point in my life where I felt like everyone around me was having sex and by "everyone" I mean my friends and most of the girls in my year group at school. They were either making love to their longtime boyfriends for the first time or having drunken romps with their latest Tinder match in club bathrooms and here I was still dry humping plush toys at 2am when I was sure everyone was asleep. I was clearly coming down with a strong case of FOMO and it reached its peak when one day, after hearing my friend's fifth hoe story that week, I made a pact with myself that I would get a hoe story of my own and have sex with the next boy I develop some level of feelings for. And that's exactly what happened.

I met a boy, and after 3 weeks of text messages and FaceTime calls, I'm in his room with my pants off.

I remember everything about my first time from my heartbeats per minute to the curtains in his room which, by the way, were plastered with cartoon rocket ships and planets. I know right, how lucky I was to be in bed with an aspiring astronaut (jokes, he's just a design student with poor taste in drapery). Let's just call him... Space Boy. He was only months younger than me but with these curtains I felt like calling the cops on myself for participating in child abuse. Anyway, so there I was with a real life boy - and not a soft inanimate object - between my naked legs for the first time and to say I was nervous would be an understatement. Dude, I was freaking the fuck out. I had my phone at arm's length and my dad on speed dial in case things went South. However, the only thing going South at this point was Space Boy himself as him and his own rocket headed towards my black hole. A few awkward positions, a shit load of pain and zero orgasms later; I was finally sending my best friend the highly anticipated "I did it" text.

Okay time for some quick sex ed at Space Boy's expense!

The tearing of the hymen or popping of the cherry does not actually hurt. What makes sex painful is when your vagina muscles are too tense so bitch, relax. Foreplay helps! It didn't quite help in my case because one; when he fingered me he used his pinky. Yes, his pinky. I know my virgin vag was tighter than an anus but using a pinky? That was just insulting. Also, with his uncertain fingers I felt like I was being pried open for a pap smear by an assistant gynaecologist on their first day, which anyone with a vagina could imagine would be a far from relaxing experience. Wiping myself after a piss would've turned me on more. And two; when he went to perform oral, my body suddenly reminded me of the litre of water I had drunk beforehand and so all I could concentrate on was trying not to pee in his mouth. He could've been the Steph Curry of cunnilingus and found the cure to cancer with his tongue but I wouldn't know because all I could think about was my bursting bladder. So the best relaxation advice I could give you based off my own experience is to never drink water and just have sex at a day spa or don't have it at all.

"Don't freak out, but there's blood." When someone tells me not to freak out, I will freak out. And that's exactly what I did when Space Boy pointed to the red specks on his sheets. However, before I could die of embarrassment, he actually did a cool thing and said, "Don't worry, this sometimes happens on your first time. It's normal," and proceeded to strip the bed sheets and dump them in the wash. So round of applause for Space Boy because not only are his words very true (metaphorical cherry popping can and often does result in looking like an actual cherry was popped... between your legs), they were also reassuring as fuck for someone as fresh on the sex scene as me who thought I just had my period/was dying. So if you happen to bleed a little, just keep calm and change the sheets. If you bleed a lot then well, shit, something went wrong and you should definitely get it checked out ASAP.

To finish up this educational segment, I've saved the most important things for last; COMMUNICATION and CONTRACEPTION. I cannot stress enough the importance of being able to communicate with your partner during such an invasive act. Don't be afraid to let him know when you're uncomfortable or in too much pain or if he's got the wrong hole (trust me, it happens). When the pain got too much for me, I wanted to stop so badly - even Space Boy noticed my discomfort and offered to abort mission but at the time I thought, "I almost shaved my clit off trying to get my vagina dolphin smooth for this so you better drink some cement and harden up, Josie. Mama didn't raise no punk ass bitch," so instead of letting Houston know we had a problem, I just bit down hard on my lip and hoped it would be over soon. Yeah, so don't be a submissive mute like my 17 year old self. Sex is to enjoy not to endure! He later told me that he "felt like he was raping me" so please spare your partner the emotional stress (and yourself from physical stress) and just speak up when you're not feeling okay about something!

As for contraception, well, it's pretty simple. Use a condom. There are a number of different contraception methods to prevent an unintended pregnancy (Google is your best friend for this) and I'm no Family Planning consultant but I do know that apart from abstinence, condoms are the best way to protect yourself from sexually transmitted infections as well. Keep in mind though that condoms aren't made of steel; they can break but they're better than nothing! However you decide to take the D, please make sure you look after your V.

Now, time for some real talk. Shit's about to get deep.

If you haven't noticed, I've refrained from using the term 'virginity' while describing my first time because I personally don't believe in it. I grew up being told by everyone from my pastor to my parents to my freakin' preschool teacher* that my virginity was the most sacred and valuable thing about me and I should treat it as such (*shout out to St. Mary's Public School in Sydney for scaring 4 year olds into abstinence before we even knew we had vaginas). So I went about life avoiding boys and dry humping shit on the low trying to protect this sacred thing of mine until I came across things like peer pressure, hormones and a perception of what romantic couples do. Then it was goodbye virginity/social conditioning and hello sex/making choices based on my own values and not of others!

When I think of virginity, I think back to the days of dowry where a woman's value was determined by her 'purity'. You know, the days when fathers saved their daughter's virginity so they could get 3 extra cows from a noble bloke in exchange for her hand in marriage. But wait, doesn't that same bloke have 30 illegitimate children to 30 other women? Oh shit, that's right, it doesn't matter because he's a man so his worth isn't based on his purity or child bearing abilities. You'd think we've come a long way since those days but in some parts of the world, women are still being killed over their virginity/lack of. You can see why virginity sounds more like a social construct put in place to shame and commodify women, huh? There is absolutely nothing wrong with placing a value on your sex life but it breaks my heart knowing women are being condemned for values other people place on theirs.

Nowadays, I feel like the whole concept of virginity just freaks a lot of people out because of the importance society places on it. Just the phrase 'losing your virginity' implies that you lose a part of yourself/something is taken away from you when you have sex. Now this 'loss' can't be referring to losing your hymen because this thin piece of skin can be broken during activities as strenuous as sport or as mundane as inserting a tampon. Also, virginity is such a heteronormative concept and therefore not a very inclusive one. We automatically think of 'sex' as just penis in vagina but homosexual people don't fuck like that and asexual people don't fuck at all sooo I guess virginity doesn't exist for them...? The idea of sex and virginity should really be up to each individual to define for themselves because at the moment it just invalidates different people's experiences.

Social construct or not, I don't think virginity is an entirely bad concept. There are tons of people across the human spectrum who really value their virginity and that is more than fine! Whether or not it's for religious purposes, virginity can really mean a lot to some people and it's wrong to take that away from them. All I'm saying is that we shouldn't be attaching this concept of 'pure' to people who haven't had sex and 'impure'/'dirty' to those who have. Essentially, whether or not you've had sex shouldn't define you as a person. So the idea of virginity doesn't need to go; the idea that your worth is determined by your virginity definitely does.

Upon reflection of my own life, what I really want to know is why was my spiritual guide, my own vessels of life and my early educators making me value my virginity above all else? Why weren't they telling me to value my brain or my heart instead? I guess knowledge and compassion aren't nearly as important as whether or not I've had a penis inside me.

Women are so much more than our sexuality and child bearing abilities and I think we should start placing more importance on everything else we have to offer that doesn't involve our vaginas.

xoxo, Girl With 3 Less Cows.

Ps. Being a good person trumps purity any day.

Monday, 2 May 2016


"Have you ever been... horny?" I was 14 when my best friend at the time asked me this question. She was so embarrassed to be asking me this that she couldn't even say the words out loud. This bitch literally typed it out in a Word document with a size 3 font and the computer screen brightness turned all the way down, then backspaced it with the speed of light as soon as I had read it.

Before this, I had never talked to anyone about anything sexual so I wasn't sure whether I should be honest and just start fingering myself like the sexual deviant I was (/am), or lie and act like I didn't even have a vagina. But when I saw that her face was scrunched up with uncertainty and disgust, I knew I had to choose the latter.

Yes, Father forgive me for I have sinned but I was 14 and cared a lot about what people thought of me, and instead of admitting I get aroused by the mere shadow of a boy, I just stared back at her in horror like she had just sucked off the devil himself and replied with two little words that could have won me an Oscar; "Ew no!" As soon as she heard this, her face relaxed and she sank back in her chair with relief and said, "Thank God, neither have I. It's just so... weird. Only boys get horny."

Only boys get horny, huh? Well shit, pass me a penis and call me Joseph.

By now I was sweating like a rapist in church because I had just dry humped the shit out of this teddy bear my aunt gave me for Christmas the night before after watching Miley kiss Jake Ryan for the first time (@aunt if you're reading this I'm sorry/thank you) but there was no way I could admit this to her now. She couldn't even say the word 'horny', she'd probably burn me at the stake if she knew I was experiencing this feeling almost daily, let alone getting myself off watching Hannah Montana.

Fast forward 3 years and I'm on the phone with a boy I've convinced myself I actually like and he asks me, "Do you... masturbate?" Now, my 17 year old self didn't give a fuck about looking stupid but she also felt the need to impress anything with a penis and that was entirely because she just wanted one in her, so when he asked me this I wasn't afraid to admit it. Also, I had watched enough porn by then to know that boys actually liked this shit and this boy was no different. His initial reaction, however, was shock; "Whoa, I've never actually heard a girl admit it. Like, girls never talk about it." Andeventhoughhe'sacuntnowandIdon'tfuckwithhim - he was right.

Girls never talk about it. So brace yourselves bitches, because I'm about to.

If you haven't guessed by now, this post is all about female masturbation. I've shared the anecdotes above to illustrate just how stigmatized this topic is to the point where people can't even utter the words or fathom the idea of females as sexual beings. Wanking can easily be joked about and discussed casually among dudes so why do girls feel like they have to deny their sexuality by being so hush-hush about catering to it? I'm not saying you have to go out and get 'YES I MASTURBATE' tattooed on your forehead (unless you want to then do you boo!) - if you're already happy with the way you're doing life then don't change a thing!

This one is for the girls (with the boomin' system) who feel trapped by this stupid social conditioning and just want to be able to ask their girl friends for help on finding their freakin' G-Spots. I'm telling you ladies, it's okay to rub one out and it's okay to talk about it. If it weren't for me feelin' myself (literally), I wouldn't have found mine and I would never have known an orgasm. Seriously, I've become so familiar with all the nooks and crannies of my fanny from chronic masturbation that I know exactly what feels good to me and this is so important for anyone who will ever have sex or be sexually active. How do you expect your partner to make you feel good if you don't even know what feels good for you? It's not a compulsory act for great sex but it can definitely help if you're having trouble turning the tap on down there. (Thanks to chronic masturbation, I even know which vegetables make the best dildo but that's a whole other blog post...)

I'm blessed enough to have women in my life who understand and accept my sex drive as well as their own so I get to have super interesting and fun conversations about this kind of shit all the time with them (shout out to Tiana Mill #chronic). If you don't have anyone like this in your life to do that with then flick me an email about flicking the bean and I'll be your Tiana Mill. I just don't want anyone to feel like my 14 year old self and be embarrassed about the perfectly human emotions they encounter. We can't help the way our bodies work and we shouldn't have to be apologetic for it. Masturbation is simply an act of self love and you should never be ashamed of loving your damn self.

To the girls who judge their fellow women for loving themselves this way, please just let us orgasm in peace. And to the girls who deny touching themselves just to spare this judgement and conform to the misogyny, girl bye. We know damn well you have a clit too.

I also read somewhere that masturbation helps relieve menstrual cramps so instead of plotting to remove your uterus completely, just shove a tampon up there and go hump something girl!

Happy relieving of menstrual cramps, ladies! Go forth and orgasm!
xoxo, Carrot Girl.