Nordic Model Now
Any references used in this blog are taken from
It is a eye opening read, well worth a visit.
For the purpose of this blog, I am looking closely at the type of man who chooses to engage in sex without connection.
This is looking at the “johns” of the sex industry and drawing the similarities between them and the men I encountered during my MANY one night, unconnected-sexpeditions. My female empowerment, liberal feminism, said this is what we do.
We play their game. We embrace our sexuality and have sex with who we choose. Empowered woman. Hear me roar.
We’re not paid for with a fee, we’re invested in. The sum of the drinks bought for us, the cocaine shared, the food they offered, the taxi fare, the prep they did before going out “on the pull.” It all adds up. That’s how they view us.
Their investment goal was to gain a sexually open women willing to go home with them.
We “slags” go of our own free will because they present themselves to be “nice, respectful men” looking for a “lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets.”
We CHOOSE to participate because of this illusion of sexual liberation were convinced is about to happen.
We go because, empowerment says I can be liberated by my choice to be sexually available. Not traditional for a “good woman” who waits and gets taken on a few dates before the suggestion of sexual relations come up.
Experiencing men in their rawness before committing to them further were my reasons. If he doesn’t respect you when you’ve allowed him into your body the first night, he never will. It was easier to me to be open to sex quickly than, getting to know them, become emotionally involved before finding out he’s a sexually selfish prick.
Yep. I left a man’s flat in protest after he had engaged in constant sex with me all night in a way that left me very sore the next morning. I was drunk but I consented to sex with him as I found him to be interesting and alluring, before I agreed to going home with him. If I was sober would I have woken up as sore as I did. Not a chance.
My protest began when he tried to initiate another round after I’d just woken up. A little delicate. Gasping for a drink, a smoke, a shower and a taxi. No offer of a drink or exchange of any niceties. Straight to touching like the consent was already given. My body was available to him in his mind, as he’d had access all night. No obligation to be friendly, welcoming or kind. The morning erection had spoken. I didn’t stick around. He was offended when I asked for some privacy while I got myself dressed to leave.
Yep, heard that one too. From a man who worked at my gym who asked me “out for a drink” which turned out to be a bottle of vodka and a few bags of coke in his dads flat. An old mans flat. The drinks out never happened, and I don’t believe they ever intended to happen. The same man who’s daughter was 2-3 years younger than me.
Frigid. 😒 That word. Vanilla is another one.
Oh right, so because I exercised my boundaries to “no fucking way, mate” when not bowing to your every sordid little fantasy, makes me frigid?
That is OK with me, pal.
However, if he is inside of you at this point of verbal exchange- what do you do?
Do you continue? He insults you while he’s in you. The respect and mood is gone. Can I push him off here? Will he hold me down to “finish?” Can I overpower him? Can I escape easy? Where’s my shoes? All running through your mind while he’s still hard as a rock, pounding hard on your insides. Harder since he’s sensed you’ve obviously switched mentality and his insult wasn’t well received. He knows he’s lost his audience, but his satisfaction has yet to be reached. He is still going. Desperate for his climax.
Have I said the words “hurry up and finish” when he didn’t stop after he clearly knew he’d killed the mood, instead of pushing him off and bolting for the door?
Course I have. They always did finish.
My last ever one night stand with the high school crush turned fuck buddy who I fell into bed with many, many times, despite the sex being fucking awful most times. It was the sheer definition of wanking with my vagina. Not one ounce of him tried to ensure I was receiving pleasure. Not even for the briefest of moments.
I first fell into bed with him when he was dealing coke and he knew I was addicted. In the bed I later found out he shared with his girlfriend.
Last time we fell into bed was years later, when he was back in town visiting his family for Christmas. At that time, he was a TEACHER in another city.
I finally knew what I had to do to make him soft and end this session a different way. God bless Vodka for the courage to employ this little trick. I knew I had to say something to him to repulse him. Something that would kill the erection flat out. So I said something like “ooh daddy, yeah just like that.” and related stuff until he just stopped. Job done. 🤣 That was the nail in the coffin for that fuck buddy.
Sure, it was awkward AF. But by this point I little cared. It stopped. I could sleep in this strange bed and go home soon. He made me a coffee in a dirty cup the next morning and waved me off in a taxi. We’ve not spoken since.
If any of the men I met through these one night sexpeditions really give a shit for womens sexual empowerment then surely the sexual relations would have been equal.
It’s clear to me, the only thing they wanted was vague permission to enter my body. Once they had that, I was meat. Faceless. Unimportant. A lesser woman, that didn’t require respect.
It was never equal. It was one sided. It was all porn-esque, female disrespect and domination.
If I challenged them, refused their requests the atmosphere changed. If I didn’t comply like the girls in porn and it became more a competitive sport. One he reached climax, I was done with.
My climax was never, ever important. They thought the heavy porn-pounding would release me into orgasmic heaven and the angels would sing. Nope. Doesn’t work like that.
You actually have to be in tune with the woman’s body you’re touching. Read her responses to the touches. If you stroke her back and she trembles, do that more. Fucking away at her none-responsive body with your own selfish sexual gratification in mind, is not collaborative sex. If she’s not wet, you’re not doing it right.
The amount of men who I faked orgasms with, that didn’t question it one bit when my vagina remain motionless in correspondence with my moans. How do you miss that one, fellas? Is your ego that fragile that the obvious faked moans satisfied your trophy of successful sexual achievement? Or did you simply not care?
A sexual experience a woman would brag about to her friends is one where her mate attentively makes her orgasm. Well. Not the guy who fucked her like a piece of meat, spewed his semen, and slept while she lay there in the wet patch like WTF was that?
Err hello? I came here for the same orgasm you came for and you didn’t deliver, buddy. You didn’t even try.
That wasn’t what I signed up for. My choice when allowing you to enter my body was to consent to good sex. Responsive sex, that permitted me my own sexual pleasure and excitement as well as your own.
An act that was the empowering, liberating sexual experience was what I was seeking. I’d say maybe 1 in 200 men achieved that. That’s being generous.
Liberal Feminism just convinces women that it’s a safe option to be sexually available. It isn’t. It’s hardly fun either. It’s dehumanising. It’s pointless.
Get a vibrator and a lot of batteries.
Save yourself the heartache and disappointment.
They treat us “slags,” just like the whores. Maybe not as vicious or violent. Slags are there with an illusion of choice, not financially contracted or forced by someone who also seeks to benefit from our exploitation. I understand that, completely.
But they don’t treat us like women that they like or appreciate either. They feel like they’ve paid for you if they’ve bought you a few drinks. They think they’ve earned their access and permission to disrespect you.
Some couldn’t contain their glee that they “won” them nights. Their male egos shon bright. Glowing with pride that they managed to “take” a woman home, like the hunter with his kill.
I wished to be ‘brought’ home and be seduced. My body available to bring pleasure TO not not just WITH.
If I was to complete an evaluation like the “sex workers” aka exploited women face on the sexual experiences I had with men as a Lib Fem, not one single man out of hundreds would score above 3/5.
Most would score 0-1.
Liberal Feminism is bollocks if you’re working class. Complete bollocks.
I’ve unfortunately done the research.