Sex Without Gender.


I saw this video of a lecture by Zoe Margolis (of Girl With A One Track Mind fame) the other day. Its a great piece on sexism in the publication of erotica. Basically the majority of cover art for erotic writing places the female as the object of desire – even when it is work aimed at heterosexual women. Its not something I would have considered beforehand as a┬áconsumer of erotic writing. Then again I am a massive gay so I quite like looking at ladies – but I don’t mind reading about men.

It got me thinking. Marketing erotica to appeal equally to men and women is one thing – but can the work itself be gender-neutral? If the work features characters whose gender is not specified this would create greater scope for the reader to imagine, and for the potential audience. The reader can envisage the scenario described, featuring a pairing which appeals to their sexual orientation.

I decided to give it a bash, the intrepid novice that I am.

The description of form is a large element of erotic writing (body parts, who’s doing what to where on whom etc). Certain, shall we say, attributes which are often a point of focus in erotic writing are a big giveaway of gender. In practice, placing the focus on one participant (either from their point of view or their objectification) can free up the reader’s view of the other participant. For example, if the view is of my/her/his body the person doing anything to that body can remain undefined. The focus is on the body.

I tend to gravitate to narratives featuring control and submission. Therefore the objectification [I use this word in favour of anything less demeaning] of one participant by the other is a significant feature. A neutral pseudonym can remove the gender of either partner as well as using they and them in place of him or her.

I wrote something and gave it to K – my favourite pervert and critic. I asked him to tell me whether it was a male/female pairing or a female/female pairing. He (being a horrible hetero boy – eew boy!) said he imagined male/female, though I wrote it with two women in mind.

Maybe this works, maybe it’s a possibility. I like the idea that your imagination goes further to create your preferred pairing, making the work appeal to a broader spectrum of readers. It is free for your own interpretation, regardless of sexual orientation. I mean this fiction caters to a BDSM audience, but that’s a different matter!

My attempt at gender neutral erotica, Blank, can be found here. Thoughts welcome.

L x



I would like kids one day. I feel there’s a part of my life that would be fulfilled by having children.

I don’t necessarily see being gay is an obstacle. In fact, I’m not obsessed with the idea of physically carrying a child within me. I’d be happy to adopt.

Not even a newborn, I would love to adopt an older child. There’s always a difficulty to find good homes for children. But that sounds great. A child, an actual person. One who already has a fledgling view of the world that I can help to develop into adulthood.

Actually, older still would work. Adopting a teenager would be such a rewarding challenge.

Maybe even someone my own age. We might have things in common. We could share interests.

Actually that would be perfect. I definitely would like to achieve having kids, one my own age would be fantastic.


Hang on.


I don’t mean children do I?


I would like friends.


Lesbian Leixcon.


I learned a new term the other day: Pillow Queen. This was brought to my attention via delightful lesbian blog F is Forr. You can read her video post which touches on the matter here. Very useful post. Consider it a crash course in dykedom. Lots of questions answered, some I didn’t even know I had.

A Pillow Queen is someone who is lazy in bed (ie they spend the whole time lying down – head on the pillow – and don’t do their fair share of the work – work?!). I didn’t even know this was a thing. If there’s a term for it, does this mean lesbians everywhere are frustrated by tier partners/dates/one night stands’ lack of effort in the bedroom?

I’m now worried.

Am I a Pillow Queen?!?!

How does one qualify as a PQ? Is there a minutes-lying-down-per-fuck quota you should avoid? How do you tell between lazy and submissive/uncertain/terrified/unable to reciprocate because she’s touching the secret ‘OH-OH-MY-GOD-OH-GOD-brain-function-shutting-down-now’ button?

I mean, is taking turns ok? Help!

I don’t want to be seen as lazy! I’m not lazy, I’m new – I’m taking notes! After reading this blog I spent the last time I had sex terrified of the pillow:

DON’T LIE DOWN L! Not even for a second! You are a proactive lesbian! Don’t be a selfish lay! WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!

Straight-laying didn’t come with this level of anxiety (disappointment mostly – not anxiety). I mean, I’m blissfully happy to have come out and started floundering around beneath (NO! On top! On TOP!) of my preferred gender, but I seem to have re-set my sexual self esteem.

Just so I know, is there a lesbian sexual etiquette I should be aware of? Could someone fashion a cross stitch sampler of these rules so I can it hang over my bed for reference while I’m having sex? (right way up – I’ll read it while I’m avoiding the pillow).

L x