Cohen
For me, straps have never really called me to question the queerness of my sex – they have always been about pleasuring my partner and myself in a way that isn’t achievable with only hands and mouths. I only recently came across the idea that straps could somehow un-queer your sex, so most of the feelings I have towards straps come from a place of being intimidated by what it says about a relationship when partners buy pleasure items together, instead of that.
Like Enoch, I sort of gave up on the idea of strap sex way before I ever tried it, but for totally different reasons; I, at the wonderfully impressionable age of 13, was in a long-term monogamous relationship with my first girlfriend, who abhorred penises. She was all of my first sexual encounters and once we hit the six month mark, just before our 14th birthdays (yeah, we were those kids), we talked about sex and what it meant for us and if we wanted to do it. I distinctly remember her saying “I really dislike the idea of a penis in any way and I do not want to have anything to do with it or anything like it.” And, insofar as I could see, I was going to be with her forever, so that meant no penis or penis-like things, ever. Period. It didn’t seem likely to be a life-altering experience anyway, so I was fine with giving it up.
I didn’t get the chance to try it until I was just about to turn 17; Laura, mentioned above, and I had been broken up for three years. At that point I had had a lot of penis sex, enjoyed it and realized I wanted to try a strap. I thought I at least had a vague idea of what I was getting myself into, but I definitely did not. I was lying on my couch with one of the women I was involved with; she looked up at me and said, “How would you feel if I bought us a strap?” Imagine the sort of stunned silence that happens when someone proposes to their significant other – it doesn’t matter if it’s the good sort of silence or the bad sort, either type is completely accurate of the way I was feeling. I was an instant wreck – I had never really thought about what a strap meant to me beyond the idea of penetrative sex. I realized all of a sudden that straps were important to me on a deep level – using hands and mouths was one thing, but specifically purchasing and learning to use a device solely for my pleasure was completely different. In that moment it felt like one of the most intense steps two people could take with one another, and I wasn’t even dating this woman. It was overwhelming.
I quit seeing that woman before we bought one, but very soon after that I bought a strap with another long-term partner, and it was phenomenal. We were in love, and it was right. Ours was anti-cliché-lesbian-pink, and we spent over two hours picking it out. We made a day of it – romantic dinner, dessert, sex shop. Once, I thought she was cheating on me and the idea of her using our strap with another woman was almost more devastating than the idea of her cheating. That strap was a symbol of the bond between us, of the amount of love and understanding that went into our relationship. It was a symbol of how much we trusted and wanted to bring pleasure to one another. Our relationship lasted three years and ended in a rejected marriage proposal. When I think about it, our strap was really the precursor to the ring she bought me, and I can understand how we got to that point.
So this is the place I speak from when I talk about straps and what they can mean for people. Not that buying a strap is the same as buying a ring or that you have to be in a til-death sort of relationship to get one, but that a strap can have an intense and beautiful effect on a relationship. I have since used straps with some of my one-time and non-partnered sex experiences, but the feeling behind buying a strap with someone I have partnered with is incomparable. I began separating my experiences into “straps used with me” and “straps used FOR me,” the latter category is the one where all of my emotion toward straps sits. Of course, I do have partners who aren’t interested in strap sex and there are plenty of ways to explore closeness with a partner that don’t involve phalluses of any sort, but straps certainly occupy a specific and special level for me.
About Cohen
Cohen (Coury) Quick is a junior at Sarah Lawrence College, focusing in general sciences and foreign languages. Ze co-chairs the SLC Queer Voice Coalition and is adamant about the power of self-exploration, self-love, and self-appreciation. Coury has worked with organizations such as the Museum of Sex, Heartland Safe Schools Initiative, Amplify Your Voice, and the Great American Condom Campaign. Hir post-college plans include doing hir time in the Peace Corps, publishing some semblance of a novel, and teaching high school science.