Declaring sexual intimacy as a human right, the Hebrew Home at Riverdale, NY develops the nation's first sexual expression policy for a retirement community.
When I was growing up in small towns, porn (at least of the variety offered to heterosexual men) wasn’t that hard to find. There was always an X-rated theater not far away, Playboy and Penthouse were in most of the convenience stores, and so on. The selection was limited though, and acquiring or viewing it usually involved some degree of embarrassment or inconvenience, perhaps even a trip to a drive-in or an aging urban theater whose manager hoped to find fiscal solvency by swapping Mary Poppins for Debbie Does Dallas.
By the time I had sex for the first time, I was really looking forward to it. My boyfriend and I had planned a getaway weekend in London for the occasion, interrupting the long-distance-ness of our relationship for a few short days. I could just imagine it: typical British rain tapping romantically against the window of our little hotel, while I left virginhood forever in the arms of someone I loved. Perfect, right?
Not so much. Here’s the thing: it hurt. A lot.