Review Category : Sex

A new cruelty-free condom recently rolled down the red carpet, joining the ranks of other ethical contraceptive powerhouses like Glyde and Sir Richard’s. The newest member of the cruelty-free condom marketplace, called Sustain, is not only cruelty-free but made from fair trade rubber and latex. Side note: The condoms were invented by New York-based father and daughter duo Jeffrey and Meika Hollender.

Familial entrepreneurship aside, what I like about the Sustain condom campaign is the fact that it targets women! It doesn’t merely market “her pleasure” or some bullshit (ribbed condom, studded condom – please, it still feels like fucking rubber), but it promotes female empowerment by encouraging ladies to take responsibility for their own condom consumption with the slogan “get on top and start f*cking naturally.” Can’t argue with that… To sweeten the pot, ten percent of profits go towards women’s reproductive health.

In talking to my girlfriends and just existing in today’s society in general, I often notice many assume that (in a hetero situation) it’s the guy’s job to carry a condom, and that any girl who carries or supplies a condom could be considered “easy.” This is a crazy notion; Anyone who wants to be in charge of their own sexual health by way of condoms should be stocking up on rubbers, and what better way to do it than with cruelty-free ones. That way, no matter where you go or who you’re with, you’ve got it covered – literally.

View the company’s ad, below:

She Thinks Her Vagina Deserves Only The Best. So That’s What She’s Giving It. from Sustain Condoms on Vimeo.

Want more? Find me on Instagram and Twitter, or check out my book, The Lusty Vegan.

*I originally wrote this post for www.ieatgrass.com. 

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There are some pretty interesting videos circling around the interwebz highlighting the much-spoken topic of vegans being better in bed.

Unfortunately this string of videos, done by the tuneless and terrifying John Sakars, are highly cringe-worthy. Sakars, an animal rights activist, has been making these for a couple of years now. As creeptastic as this fellow comes off to me, at least he is fighting the good fight? Every movement has to have a handful of creepy pale dudes making music videos in their basements, right?

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Everyday I work harder at being mindful: enjoying the moment I am in instead of rushing ahead trying to get to what’s next. It’s not easy, but focusing on the task you’re doing, even if that task is simply walking the dog or sitting with your partner, helps to increase pleasure, enhance focus and productivity and make you happier overall. I mean, have you ever seen a miserable buddha? Probably not. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get hyper new-agey on you. Below are a handful of ways to be more mindful across several different aspects of life.

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I’ve written about high-tech sex before, but since then, the world has come a long way in terms of sexing up our smartphones.

Generally I have a “no-phones-in-bed” rule but maybe I might reconsider for a few of these…

Glassy Sex.

This Google Glass wearable tech let’s you see yourself having sex “through your partner’s eyes.” This is 99 percent always a bad idea, even if you and your partner look like this:

 These guys should totally be on BoyfriendTwin (whose name should probably be DoppelGangBangers) 

3nder.

I don’t know how to pronounce this, but the purpose for this app (brought to you by the Tinder and Grinder folks) is to allow you to find people to have a threesome with without having to poach experimental-looking singles at a bar with your boyfriend in tow. Not that I’ve done that ever.

Dickorate.

This app has actually recently been removed but I still want to talk about it anyway because it’s redickulous. This dick-dressing app let men take pics of their junk, make them bigger (obvi) and then add weird accessories, like sunglasses and little dick sweaters. They can then send the pics to their lover, who will undoubtably use them as blackmail later on. Here’s a true story: Nobody wants your dick pic. Ever. Also it reminds me of this hilarious video which will get suck in your head for days.

Sock-it.

Okay as someone who once had twelve room-mates, I actually kind of like this one. If playing “Big Papa” on repeat for 43 minutes didn’t make things clear enough, this app lets you alert people when you’re having sex so they leave you the f*ck alone.

Do you use any helpful sex apps? Would you use 3nder? Are you a little bummed Dickorate is no longer a thing?

Want more? Find me on Instagram and Twitter, and check out my book, The Lusty Vegan, available on Amazon.

*This post was originally written for iEatGrass.com.

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In college I once made a slideshow of terrifying STDs and made all 6 of my housemates sit down and watch it. This was sparked by the realization that one of my roomies, who had been on oral contraception for 4 years, had no idea that birth control pills don’t protect against STDs.

Even in a culture where we can find anything with the click of a Google search button, we often still remain wildly under-informed. And then there are the times we think we know our shit, and something comes up that rocks us sideways. This is what happened to me with the recent news that the “pull out” method is apparently only one percent less reliable than condoms. Say what?

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So here’s a bit of TMI: My birth control of choice is the condom. I know most women in serious monogamous relationships choose some sort of method that let’s you get skin-on-skin. However, 10 years on oral contraceptives, coupled with veganism, gave me a terrible b12 deficiency that cleared up right when my doc told me to ditch the pill. (Also, oral contraceptives aren’t vegan, btw!). So no oral contraceptives for me!

But Zoe, I know you’re asking, what about an iud? Well, despite hearing great things about them, I’m a little freaked about copper all up in my ladybits. However, even more terrifying than copper in my uterus is a baby in my uterus, so I use condoms. My favorite vegan options are Sir Richard’s and Glyde. Those are the only vegan condoms I am currently aware of. For a little bit of Friday fun, here are some hilarious condom ads courtesy of these two cruelty-free comPassionate companies!

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I was hanging at a dude friend’s place last week with a few other friends, mostly dudes. As it usually does, the topic eventually turned to sex, and one of my friends started telling this story about a girl he slept with a few years ago. Midway through the story, another (male) friend turned and said “oh is this about Turkey Sandwich?”

Then everybody laughed. Except me, because I didn’t know what the hell that meant.

Let me preface this with the fact that these male friends of mine are not douchey beer can crushing frat boys. They are nice and genuine, and until this exact moment I had never witnessed anything appalling about the way they treat, speak to or speak about women. Nothing they had ever said or done before had ever fired off my misogynistic flare gun.

Back to the story.

“Turkey sandwich? Why do you call her turkey sandwich?” I asked.

I was hoping for some tale about how every time they would have have sex, she would make him a really great turkey sandwich after. Or maybe they met while he was working at a Blimpie and he always knew her order was a turkey sandwich? Extra olives?

My friend, let’s call him Jim Bob, went to explain that this girl had hooked up with one of his friends years before the two of them one-night-standed. “Okay, and…” I pressed.

Jim Bob responded, “well what do you do with leftover turkey after thanksgiving?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m vegan,” I said. Just kidding, I didn’t say that. I stared at him blankly.

“You make a turkey sandwich,” he punch-lined.

Me and the one other girl in the room proceeded to projectile vomit on Jim Bob’s head. Just kidding, but I wish we did.

“Wait wait, let me get this straight,” I said. “This girl did nothing wrong other than deem you worthy of having sex with, but because she also had sex with one of your friends you’re labeling her a left-over?”

I was all kinds of horrified, because this was a 28-year-old male, who up until that point had always showcased logic, reason, compassion, decent judgement and good taste in whiskey. This wasn’t some punk-ass college frat boy or anyone with an unmanageable ego. Jim Bob had always seemed like a sweet guy!

Worse, the other guys in the room didn’t seem to be disturbed by this. They went on to discuss other nicknames given to girls they have slept with – Closet Monster, because they had sex in a closet, was one of the more memorable ones. Not Closet Girl, or girl-I-fucked-in-a-closet, both which would have been much much more respectable and less derogatory. Closet Monster. Monster!?! The names Jim Bob and Co. were choosing placed all of this undeserved shame on the girls they slept with, like they were some dirty, dishonorable creatures for choosing to have sex with the people now talking shit…I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Now let me clear the record: in college, my roommates and I came up with nicknames for the guys we slept with or wanted to sleep with. We did it because we went to a tiny, tiny college and if we wanted to talk about the guys we were crushing on without everyone on campus finding out, we had to do it in code. (Much like how I just changed my friend’s name to Jim Bob so I could bitch about him on the Internet.) So we had names like Roman God, for the dude who was so painfully beautiful he appeared to be from another time. Or Niney, because of his blessed endowment. Or Shakespeare Lit, because we met in—you guessed it—Shakespeare Lit. If a guy became a steady hook-up or a boyfriend, the nick names fell away and they simply became “Pete.”

In college, we never meant anything derogatory by nicknaming the guys, but after my half heart attack at Jim Bob, I could see how it could come off that way. While most of our nicknames were positive (Niney was a legend), and we never ever tacked on a word like “Monster” or referred to them as cold lunch meat jammed between two slices of bread, we were boiling down a human being into a nickname that barely begins to encompass their entire person. So I would like to take a moment to apologize to them all. Sorry Roman, Niney, Shakespeare, Snake Wrangler and Geometry Todd. I never meant to offend you, I just wanted to talk about you at brunch without being overheard by the entire Lacrosse team.

So, I lectured Jim Bob good and hard that day. The other female in the room did as well. Later, I grilled my boyfriend to see if he had derogatory nicknames for his former conquests. He swore no, but I was already drumming up nightmares of him sitting around with his old college roomies, hitting the bong and telling stories about Areola Alice. Okay that one isn’t very good, but I just can’t think of any more shameful names right now…

Do you make up nicknames for the people you’ve slept with? Did you used to? Do you think it’s okay as long as they aren’t shaming, belittling nicknames? Would you have been horrified if you overheard your friends talking like this?

Let’s all grow up and start calling the people we sleep with by their names. Like Beatrice. That’s a nice name, isn’t it?

Want more from Zoe? Find her on Instagram and Twitter.

For more Lusty Vegan, check out The Lusty Vegan book, available on Amazon.

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