This rings of ego-salvaging.

I read this a couple days ago and it lodged in my brain sideways. Chelseagirl of Pretty Dumb Things is usually a fun read. She's done a few things, likes sex, and has the ability to combine her experiences and thoughts in an engaging manner. I may not agree or share her opinions, but usually I can understand why she came to her conclusions.

In this case, she was laying out the bare bones relating to her clitoral hood piercing. She's had it for a while, thinks it looks pretty, and for the most part seems to find it a very rewarding bit of jewelry. Her boyfriend, Donny, thinks she should dispose of it. I shan't repeat the whole entry since it is much easier to just read her words for yourself, though I do intend to bring up a few points of particular interest to myself.

The problem, he says, is that it gets in the way. He feels that the ring acts like Belinda’s seven-fold fence of a petticoat in Alexander Pope’s Rape of the Lock: it’s a shield behind which huddles the desired object, my clit.

Oh he does does he? It sounds like he needs to adapt. There's a dangerous temptation when frustrated in one's actions to place the blame on something else. I would have given her the best orgasm of her life in not for that cursed clit ring. Given her long, happy history with it, I'd say that the problem lies not with the jewelry, but with Donny. There is no one way to have sex. The concepts might be finite, but the variations thereof are all but infinite. Some things work better on some women than others. So you have to be open to learning. Even if you think you've worked out the best oral technique ever to grace a mortal woman's nether regions, it does NOT mean it will be universally phenomenal. Even if you've had the same lover for over a decade and you're still the most talented lover they've ever had, there is always something new to learn to be even better. Instead it sounds like Donny has decided he's reached the top of his form with cunnilingus and can now rest upon his laurels. He has his preferred "sex-god" technique and it is up to his lover to provide him the optimum conditions to apply it. It has changed from being about her pleasure and happiness to being about meeting his demands before applying what he considers to be a generous portion of his energy and focus. To be honest, he comes across as lazy and self-centered in his request. He may be a great guy most of the time, but I know more than one woman who would be reconsidering a sexual relationship with him on the basis of such an issue.

Donny, frustrated in his attempts to lick me properly, enacts the drama of my ring and my clit. “Here I am!” he squeaks, waving his hands at shoulder height like the frantic calling of a genteel, tea-drinking lady. “Right here!”

“No!” He lowers his voice to the register of authority, his arms now akimbo, hands balled on his hips. “You can’t pass!” He says and wags a finger. “No crossing!”

“Here I am! Right here!” squeaks my clit.

“Go away!” yells my ring.

And then he returns to himself and asks, “Would you consider removing it?” He looks so sweet, so confounded by the frustrating physics of giving me pleasure, that consider it I do.

However humorously presented at the time, I find such behavior on his part in poor taste. I don't care how frustrated you get trying to help your lover to climax, you do not criticize or blame them for it. The ring may not technically be a part of her body, but it's part of her as long as it's in her flesh. It is not her fault, nor that of her ring that you can't find her clit. In fact, if her clitoris is small enough to be totally eclipsed by a small loop of gold wire, I'd challenge you couldn't find it without someone pointing it out for you. The jewelry is a hellacious advantage. The ring is always there to point the way. I suggest you stop fighting with it and learn how to turn it to your advantage. Find another angle. Learn a new approach. There is no excuse for crying defeat and subjecting your lover to a manipulative "puppet-show."

Why Chelseagirl didn't brain him with the nearest heavy object instead of interpreting it as "endearingly little-boy helpless" I will never know. Perhaps I hang out with more bitchy and self-assertive women, because I have yet to have one of them read that bit and not declare he'd be sleeping on the couch or worse.

Since the moment my piercer captured my hood with it, I have loved my clit ring. I have loved it with an extra-flamey white-hot burning passion. I think it’s beautiful, and I love seeing it half hidden in my genital folds, the gold against my dusk-rose girl bits, the tiger’s eye bead winking like a sly glance. I love the way it feels when I’m rubbing my clit, and I love having it tugged on gently. Mostly, I love its feminine bad-assitude. I love how its presence says that not only do I know that it hurts to be beautiful, but also I’m able—even willing—to suffer.

To me, that says it all. It's something she chose for herself and she loves it. Tattoo, piercing, branding, etc. it all comes down to the opinion of the one who has it. No one has the right to dictate another's identity. This ring is part of her identity as a woman, and a part that other lover's have not had a problem with in the past. I think Donny should take a step back and think about what he's really arguing for.