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Archive for the ‘sex of the icky parental kind’ Category

A while ago an American writer friend, Jeremy Adam Smith and I were talking about the shaming of sexting and how misrepresented the practice was in the media. He told me I should write an article about my mothers’ group sexting.. and eventually I did. (It was this article). He also decided to finally tackle the topic himself and wrote two articles on it, one, with his partner.

So, Jeremy’s articles…”Can sexting increase relationship satisfaction?” in Greater Good and “Teens need sext education” in the San Francisco Chronicle.

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This is gorgeous.

 

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Quick hi from me to say I will be reading an extract from my article in defence of sexting, that appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald, on ABC’s Radio National on Monday Wednesday morning.

Hear my voice, trying to speak slower.

UPDATE: Here it is – me on Radio National defending sexting. 

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This is just wonderful from my friend, Antonella Gambotto-Burke. Art and relationships analysis, all in one.

In this portrait, Spencer and Preece are neither young nor beautiful, which, to us, makes their nakedness – and the nakedness of his desire – strange and overwhelming. Yet there is no more beautiful a portrait of a man’s conflicted sexual appetite for his wife: Spencer’s desire is specific rather than general, based on intimacies, grievances and experiences to which we are not privy. He wants her as she is, arrogant in her display, teasing, without pose or artifice. Her lack of nurturance is shown by the shrivelled representation of her breasts; there is no enfolding here, but he still wants her. More than anything, it is his lack of idealisation that is mesmerising.

 

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I am watching, helpless and terrified, as the love of my life is beset by a raging pack of zombies intent on tearing him apart. I feel cowardly and ashamed, perched as I am on a platform far above him. While he was down in the trenches, fortifying the pillars that lead up into our base, I was up on this bridge smelting iron, and now all I can do is pluck lamely at my bow and arrows, trying to pick off a zombie here and there while he fights desperately for his life.

As I sit gasping on the edge of my seat, I’m surprised by the intensity of my adrenaline and terror. There may be zombies on screen, but in real life, we’re in no danger. We’re in the comfort of our living room, seated in front of our Playstation 4, playing a wonderful, unpolished game called 7 Days to Die.

In the nearly nine years of our romance, we’ve gotten better over time at finding the experiences we enjoy most together, dates that balance our very different enthusiasms.

From Matt Thompson’s “Date night with the zombies”in The Atlantic.

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I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this film, Stories We Tell since seeing it this week. Recommend.

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Truly gorgeous relationship advice from Heather Havrilesky in Ask Polly on The Awl. Read the whole thing, it’s wonderful.

People who fuck people then tell other people they want to fuck that the people they’re currently fucking are super fucking dull? These are bad people.

These are people who just don’t like other people. “Jesus, my girlfriend, I swear she breathes in oxygen and breathes out carbon dioxide sometimes,” they might as well say. Because when you go to bed with someone and wake up and eat together and go to bed together again and wake up? See, I’m already bored by both of you just writing it down. People get boring. An inescapable fact. PEOPLE. GET. BORING. People of all stripes, from all walks of life, get boring. Boring is not a reason for anything. You say someone you’re fucking is boring? The first thing I think is sweet god in heaven YOU my friend are BORING. Stop taking it out on everyone else.

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