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How I, The Leader Of The Anti-Blow Job Movement, Learned To Kind Of Like Them

How I, The Leader Of The Anti-Blow Job Movement, Learned To Kind Of Like Them

For a long time — for all of my time, actually — I’ve been a crusader, a pioneer, really in the anti-blow job movement. I’ve long maintained that you can have successful long-term hookups, even relationships in some cases, scarcely performing this act. Proudly, I’ve boasted about having fellated only about a third the number of men I’d slept with, and still managed to keep them come back for more. Like cookies and tacos, penis is a “sometimes food.” On special occasions, it was reserved for boyfriends and blackouts only. And that, my friends, is the way I chose to live my life — the way I advocated all women should live their lives.

Logically, I saw no point. A man doesn’t need a warmup like a woman does. They can reach the grand finale, no problem, in practically any circumstances, so there’s no reason to waste valuable boner minutes on something that’s only fun for one party.

Physically, I saw no fun. In fact, not only is it not fun, it’s uncomfortable, sometimes borderline painful. There’s nothing enjoyable about opening your mouth so wide that your jaw hurts, carefully avoiding scraping the damn thing with your teeth, all the while gagging, unable to breathe, and watching someone revel in your discomfort. Plus it shoots dick snot at you at the end. Not fun for the person with the penis in their mouth.

Emotionally, I saw no justice. Okay, that sounds dramatic, but for the sake of repetition and the rule of three, I had to. And it’s not untrue, either. For some reason, it always felt degrading to me. Every time. Even when it shouldn’t have. Maybe this is because I had a truly terrible first time experience with it, or maybe it’s just because of the way I hear people talk about blowies in society. “Suck my dick” is something people say to degrade, and “cocksucker” is an insult. And just so much about it is reinforcing the echo chamber that men’s pleasure is more important than women’s. And maybe that’s not fair, but it’s a lasting thought that society has left on my brain.

But this weekend, something happened, and I don’t quite know what to make of it.

I did the thing. The peen in mouth thing as I’d done before. But unlike all the other times I…kind of liked it? And not like in the way girls we hate say they like it. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m not even trying to let guys I hook up with know, lest they come to expect this kind of thing. And it’s not even just a thing I say when I really mean “I didn’t mind it.” No. I actually liked it, to the point where we moved onto the next thing and I wasn’t ready to stop.

Fucking. Wild.

It makes no sense. Hating blow jobs is part of my sexual identity and a cornerstone for me as a funny person. It’s been my main link to the feminist movement. This is like if Lena Dunham headed up an anti-abortion rally, or if Mike Pence marched in a Pride Parade. It’s totally, completely unexpected based on everything I know about who I am as a person. And now, it’s like I don’t even know who I am any more. So I have to ask myself: How did I get here?
1. Familiarity
This was a guy I was pretty comfortable with and I maintain that I will still never ever, ever do this for a guy who’s either a one-night stand, or a casual hookup who doesn’t respect me. The guy doesn’t have to be a boyfriend, but I just have to trust him, and trust the fact that he genuinely respects women. A huge part of my reluctance with this is honestly that I feel degraded — and a lot of that is my own issues — but I need to know a guy well enough to know that it’s not something he feels like he manipulated me into doing. I need to not feel like I “gave it up” to him, and more like it was just a thing I chose to do, because I’m a grownup and I wanted to.

2. Compliments
The blow job to change my view on blow jobs came after several other blow jobs to the same person, that I gave slightly more begrudgingly. He never bitched or made me do it too long, because he knew I wasn’t a huge fan. In fact, just the opposite. He complimented me on it every time. I don’t know if he meant it or if it was positive reinforcement, but being told “you’re really good at that” feels good, and slowly starts to chip away at the part of you that hates the thing to begin with.

3. A Normal Sized Wiener
I’m sorry, but a blow job will never be okay if a guy has a huge dong. Never ever. Shit ain’t right.

4. Reciprocation
Reciprocation is an understatement. He does it more. A lot more. This scale was tipped well in my favor and has been pretty consistently. And that’s how it has to be. It made me feel way more comfortable doing the thing when I couldn’t even pretend I was getting jilted. I didn’t feel like I was at the penis’s mercy, and that worked out.

5. Pot
At the end of the day, the physical act wasn’t as bad when I was high out of my mind. The bad parts of it just sort of melted away. It was physically easier to do, as my senses were dulled, and my brain was clear of all the mental fog that normally surrounds it for me.

Or maybe it was a fluke.

Image via Shutterstock

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