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Yahoo
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
My Girlfriend And I Went To A Sex Party. In The Middle Of An Orgy, I Realized I'm Not Straight.
Related: 'Are you sure this is where you want to go?' the Uber driver asked Ella, my girlfriend, and me as we got out of the car in the sketchiest area of downtown Los Angeles I'd ever seen. 'Want me to wait or anything?' 'Nah, we're good,' Ella said confidently. 'I think we're in the right place.' It was late at night in a rough warehouse district, but we were in an adventurous mood. We knew the address of a reputable sex club that was just around the corner. Once we were past an industrial gate covered in barbed wire and had passed through an inconspicuous lobby, we were waved into a seductive space full of easy-to-clean surfaces, plush couches, and low lighting. We repeated our mantra, 'Try anything once, maybe even twice,' out loud to each other. We drank a bit of our BYOB and picked at the unappetizing buffet. The club owner hosted an incredibly cringey dance-off, and we scoped out the other guests — mostly average-looking people in their 40s or older. I'd never been a Casanova. I hadn't even hit second base before graduating high school. In my first college course, I nerded out on the ancient romance advice found in Ovid's 'Ars Amatoria.' By graduation, my body count was still in the single digits. I hit the jackpot when Ella, then my hot best friend, admitted that she had a crush on me. We moved from sleepy Colorado Springs to glitzy Los Angeles. We were in our early 20s and wanted to be flirty and sophisticated, but upon moving in together, domesticity hit us like a train. Squabbles over money, careers, plans, and cleaning made our lives at home stressful and unsexy. This was 2016, when it felt like everybody was suddenly talking about open relationships. Non-monogamy was constantly being asked about in online advice columns. Podcasts were quoting The Ethical Slut and TV shows made polyamory seem like the new normal. Ella and I took notice and soon began to wonder: Could this be for us? Could opening our relationship bring some adventure to our lives? Was this exactly what we needed to shake things up a bit? We decided to wade into this unfamiliar new world by attending a sex party. , Before we left for our first event, we drew up a list of guidelines: Bail if it gets weird, practice very safe sex, listen for our prearranged safe word, and prioritize communication over becoming distracted or jealous. Our plan was to hook up as a couple and enjoy the voyeurism/exhibitionism aspect if nobody seemed appealing enough to have sex with them. We found a plush faux-leather couch and started making out. We quickly attracted attention. Most of the party guests were happy to watch and those who ventured to join us but weren't our types thankfully respected a quick head shake of 'nope' and left us to continue hooking up by ourselves. Related: Eventually, a hot couple approached us and asked, 'Want to swap partners?' Ella and I examined this well-groomed pair ― he in a button-up shirt and she in a tight dress with a hint of lingerie peeking out from its top ― and then exchanged a glance and a nod before following them into a private room. Ella and I squeezed hands like we were on the uphill part of a roller coaster ― nervous and excited ― but definitely up for the ride. We were confident we could leave if we needed to, but the jitters were sexy. The private room had a four-poster bed draped with pink gauzy curtains and a multicolor spinning disco ball. The four of us chuckled, then they moved closer. First the girls kissed. I looked at the man and licked my lips, but instead of approaching me, he just cheered on our partners. We began to hook up ― me with this new woman at the foot of the bed and Ella with this new man at the top. We positioned ourselves so Ella and I could still kiss and wink, maintain communication and gauge comfort. My nerves calmed down and soon any inhibitions I had been feeling quickly slipped away. It turns out it's hard to feel jealous of somebody hooking up with your girlfriend when you're hooking up with his wife right next to him. As new and strange as this arrangement was, I felt safe in my relationship with Ella because we were doing this together ― literally right next to each other ― and we had communicated about everything. A part of me was wondering how this looked from the outside. Sinful? Non-traditional? Hedonistic? But another part stopped letting judgments get in the way of a good time. I allowed myself to let go and be completely in the moment and, in that dark room pulsing with loud music, lubricated by booze and sweat, with all of our bodies rubbing and touching, my desire began to move in a direction I wasn't expecting. Coming of age in the suburbs in the early 2000s, I identified as a typical straight guy. I joked with my peers about dumb shit and would always say 'no, you are!' when somebody called me gay. I bought Maxim and Playboy and watched a lot of porn. Straight porn. Yet there were times when I 'accidentally' found myself watching men having sex. After a minute of seeing two guys go at it, I'd 'come to my senses,' go back to female-centered porn, finish myself off, and then erase my browser history. I thought that as long as I didn't ejaculate while looking at a penis, I was completely ― and safely ― heterosexual. I was afraid of being gay. There was so much stigma ― amongst my social group, but also in general. This was before marriage equality was legalized, before 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' was repealed, before 'Glee' or 'Modern Family.' Those around me debated whether queer people should be teachers, be allowed to adopt, or marry, and I didn't think there was any way I could be into guys ― even if I was secretly into guys. My parents didn't seem to care one way or another ― the most they ever said to me about the subject was that it seemed like life was more difficult for gay people. Related: Riding home from the sex club in another Uber, the driver asked us, 'So, what were y'all doing down here?' We ignored the question and began to debrief. We agreed that everything went better than expected and our new friends had been respectful and attractive. Ella had really enjoyed getting close with another woman. But I couldn't stop thinking about the other guy. Despite the smutty and open atmosphere, the other man and I barely touched, besides high-fiving and an accidental grazing. He kept a respectful distance the entire time we were together. I wish he hadn't. I'd never intimately or sensually touched another man. It was the realization that I wanted to that surprised me the most. Once home and after a long shower, the club's music still echoed in my ears. I was uncertain how Ella would respond, but we'd agreed to be hyper honest about all our feelings, so I confessed, 'I think maybe I want to try having sex with a man.' 'That's so hot,' Ella replied. She quickly added, 'I want to try hooking up with a girl.' The next morning, we concocted a new plan with a new set of rules: We would test out a version of our open relationship where we could hook up with same-sex partners without each other present ― women for her and men for me. It would allow us to explore our desires but we also felt there would be less opportunities for jealousy to spring up. We'd thought going to a sex club would be our way to have a non-standard, non-boring relationship. Instead, we realized it was a catalyst ― an initial experience that had informed a whole new line of inquiry into ourselves and our relationship. We'd be a team conducting independent research in tandem, sharing notes and data constantly. We liked our unique strategy. The biggest question for me was: What did this mean about my sexuality? I believed hooking up alongside Ella meant that I was safely heterosexual, according to some weird internal schematic I had drawn up. The thought of having sex with a guy by myself made me nervous. If I liked it, did it mean I'm gay? Had I only told myself I liked women because I was afraid of the alternative? And if so, what did that mean for me and Ella? Would we break up? Was I bisexual? I didn't have any of the answers but I knew I needed them, so I did what any curious guy might do: I downloaded Grindr. I was instantly blown away by the smorgasbord of meat on display on the hookup app. I wasn't even sure what or who I'd be attracted to, and having so many options overwhelmed me. Eventually, someone messaged me, and suddenly dozens of requests from men were coming in. In all my years, I'd never had strangers actively hitting on me — it felt strange but amazing. I was still too nervous to actually meet up with anyone, but I was beginning to warm up to the idea. I was on Grindr a few weeks later when I got a message from a nearby guy. 'Into?' he asked. Related: Unsure of what to reply ― or what I was even really into when it came to hooking up with a man ― I wrote, 'Whatever you are!' He immediately sent me his GPS location. Ella and I looked at each other. We'd discussed boundaries, expectations and the importance of safe sex when anonymously hooking up with people outside our duo. Was this the moment we'd been preparing for? I had the roller coaster jitters again, but Ella, my cheerleader, reminded me, 'Try anything once.' I chugged a beer for courage, kissed my supportive girlfriend goodbye, and walked towards my first hook-up with a guy. I expected a flirty first date, but instead the guy I'd messaged with silently intercepted me outside his house. He was handsome with a firm jaw. I tried kissing him, but he seemed disinterested. I offered a true cliché: 'I've never done anything like this before.' I thought we'd go up to his room, have some wine and banter about our lives, but, instead, without saying a word, he dragged me to his parked car and awkwardly shoved me into the back seat. I wanted to seem sexy and experienced, so I just went with the flow, even though I had no idea why we were in his car. Maybe he had roommates at home? Maybe he got off on semi-public sex? I guess this is cruising? I thought. He unzipped my pants, squirmed onto my lap, and jostled himself around. He unwrapped a condom, placed it on me and then suddenly, I was inside of him. Before I even really realized what was happening, I was doing it! After a few minutes of uncomfortable and uninspired movement he came and went, leaving me in his steamy car to clean myself up. He hadn't even bothered to get me off. I felt used. As I sat in the afterglow of the unsatisfying experience, I wondered what I was now. The sex wasn't even good, let alone intimate. But I was attracted to him. Was I gay? Was I bisexual? Was I just confused? When I told Ella what happened, she thought it was so sexy and courageous that it made me excited to try again. She laughed when I told her I didn't even finish. 'Now you know how girls feel when guys use them,' she told me. Touché! We decided to collect more data and search for guys I had more of a connection with. Together we surfed the apps, swiping and researching new dating lingo. I had several more ― and much better ― hookups before I ultimately understood that I really like men and women. Men were scratchy, smelly and I didn't love their firm bodies. Women were nice to touch, smell, and kiss everywhere. But there was one thing many women didn't have: one firm part that I really did like. When it went from soft to stiff, my bi-curiosity became bi-certainty. I didn't officially come out as bisexual. I was ― and am ― honest about who I am, but most people just assume I'm straight since I have a girlfriend (even though I have an earring in the 'gay ear,' l love show tunes and I live in West Hollywood). But I'm not straight and I feel it's important for me to say that, which is partially why I wrote such a personal piece and I'm publishing it on such a visible site. There is still a stigma for bisexual men ― even in the queer community. Many believe that we can't really like women and men. That we're lying if we say we do. That we're tricking our partners or that we'll eventually end up leaving our female partners for men. That's not true. We do exist. Our sexuality isn't a lie and I hope the more we talk about it, the more perceptions will change. Since discovering my sexuality, I've educated myself on the LGBTQ+ struggle and learned that it's not over ― not by a long shot. In fact, things are getting worse. I've become aware of my privilege and know that just because a cis white guy on the West Coast can freely experiment at sex parties doesn't mean everybody can. Witnessing how queer people are still treated ― in the U.S. and around the world ― has disgusted and radicalized me. Seeing anti-trans and anti-gay laws grow new and deeper roots in this country has made me realize that if I don't come out, then I am just taking advantage of all the efforts of braver people than me and I'm not doing my part to make things better. I believe the very least I can do is to be proudly bisexual and talk about my experiences in the hope that it might give more visibility to our community and show that queer people come in all kinds of packages. Maybe someone reading this will be inspired to share their own story. Maybe they'll be less afraid to be who they really are and like what they like. Things are great with me and Ella. We're getting married later this year, but we've decided to keep our arrangement. Opening up our relationship and embracing our bisexuality has only strengthened our bond. We communicate what we need from each other, we're open and honest about all parts of our lives and we genuinely want to do whatever we can to make each other happy ― and that includes us getting pleasure from other people. And then, when we're done, we come home to each other. We continue to experiment and be open to what life ― and our lives together ― might bring us and we continue to live by the mantra, 'try anything once, maybe even twice.' This article originally appeared on HuffPost in June 2025. Also in Goodful: Also in Goodful: Also in Goodful:
Buzz Feed
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Buzz Feed
Sex Party Experience Led To My Sexual Awakening
'Are you sure this is where you want to go?' the Uber driver asked Ella, my girlfriend, and me as we got out of the car in the sketchiest area of downtown Los Angeles I'd ever seen. 'Want me to wait or anything?' 'Nah, we're good,' Ella said confidently. 'I think we're in the right place.' It was late at night in a rough warehouse district, but we were in an adventurous mood. We knew the address of a reputable sex club that was just around the corner. Once we were past an industrial gate covered in barbed wire and had passed through an inconspicuous lobby, we were waved into a seductive space full of easy-to-clean surfaces, plush couches, and low lighting. We repeated our mantra, 'Try anything once, maybe even twice,' out loud to each other. We drank a bit of our BYOB and picked at the unappetizing buffet. The club owner hosted an incredibly cringey dance-off, and we scoped out the other guests — mostly average-looking people in their 40s or older. I'd never been a Casanova. I hadn't even hit second base before graduating high school. In my first college course, I nerded out on the ancient romance advice found in Ovid's 'Ars Amatoria.' By graduation, my body count was still in the single digits. I hit the jackpot when Ella, then my hot best friend, admitted that she had a crush on me. We moved from sleepy Colorado Springs to glitzy Los Angeles. We were in our early 20s and wanted to be flirty and sophisticated, but upon moving in together, domesticity hit us like a train. Squabbles over money, careers, plans, and cleaning made our lives at home stressful and unsexy. This was 2016, when it felt like everybody was suddenly talking about open relationships. Non-monogamy was constantly being asked about in online advice columns. Podcasts were quoting The Ethical Slut and TV shows made polyamory seem like the new normal. Ella and I took notice and soon began to wonder: Could this be for us? Could opening our relationship bring some adventure to our lives? Was this exactly what we needed to shake things up a bit? We decided to wade into this unfamiliar new world by attending a sex party. , Before we left for our first event, we drew up a list of guidelines: Bail if it gets weird, practice very safe sex, listen for our prearranged safe word, and prioritize communication over becoming distracted or jealous. Our plan was to hook up as a couple and enjoy the voyeurism/exhibitionism aspect if nobody seemed appealing enough to have sex with them. We found a plush faux-leather couch and started making out. We quickly attracted attention. Most of the party guests were happy to watch and those who ventured to join us but weren't our types thankfully respected a quick head shake of 'nope' and left us to continue hooking up by ourselves. Eventually, a hot couple approached us and asked, 'Want to swap partners?' Ella and I examined this well-groomed pair ― he in a button-up shirt and she in a tight dress with a hint of lingerie peeking out from its top ― and then exchanged a glance and a nod before following them into a private room. Ella and I squeezed hands like we were on the uphill part of a roller coaster ― nervous and excited ― but definitely up for the ride. We were confident we could leave if we needed to, but the jitters were sexy. The private room had a four-poster bed draped with pink gauzy curtains and a multicolor spinning disco ball. The four of us chuckled, then they moved closer. First the girls kissed. I looked at the man and licked my lips, but instead of approaching me, he just cheered on our partners. We began to hook up ― me with this new woman at the foot of the bed and Ella with this new man at the top. We positioned ourselves so Ella and I could still kiss and wink, maintain communication and gauge comfort. My nerves calmed down and soon any inhibitions I had been feeling quickly slipped away. It turns out it's hard to feel jealous of somebody hooking up with your girlfriend when you're hooking up with his wife right next to him. As new and strange as this arrangement was, I felt safe in my relationship with Ella because we were doing this together ― literally right next to each other ― and we had communicated about everything. A part of me was wondering how this looked from the outside. Sinful? Non-traditional? Hedonistic? But another part stopped letting judgments get in the way of a good time. I allowed myself to let go and be completely in the moment and, in that dark room pulsing with loud music, lubricated by booze and sweat, with all of our bodies rubbing and touching, my desire began to move in a direction I wasn't expecting. Coming of age in the suburbs in the early 2000s, I identified as a typical straight guy. I joked with my peers about dumb shit and would always say 'no, you are!' when somebody called me gay. I bought Maxim and Playboy and watched a lot of porn. Straight porn. Yet there were times when I 'accidentally' found myself watching men having sex. After a minute of seeing two guys go at it, I'd 'come to my senses,' go back to female-centered porn, finish myself off, and then erase my browser history. I thought that as long as I didn't ejaculate while looking at a penis, I was completely ― and safely ― heterosexual. I was afraid of being gay. There was so much stigma ― amongst my social group, but also in general. This was before marriage equality was legalized, before 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' was repealed, before 'Glee' or 'Modern Family.' Those around me debated whether queer people should be teachers, be allowed to adopt, or marry, and I didn't think there was any way I could be into guys ― even if I was secretly into guys. My parents didn't seem to care one way or another ― the most they ever said to me about the subject was that it seemed like life was more difficult for gay people. Riding home from the sex club in another Uber, the driver asked us, 'So, what were y'all doing down here?' We ignored the question and began to debrief. We agreed that everything went better than expected and our new friends had been respectful and attractive. Ella had really enjoyed getting close with another woman. But I couldn't stop thinking about the other guy. Despite the smutty and open atmosphere, the other man and I barely touched, besides high-fiving and an accidental grazing. He kept a respectful distance the entire time we were together. I wish he hadn't. I'd never intimately or sensually touched another man. It was the realization that I wanted to that surprised me the most. Once home and after a long shower, the club's music still echoed in my ears. I was uncertain how Ella would respond, but we'd agreed to be hyper honest about all our feelings, so I confessed, 'I think maybe I want to try having sex with a man.' 'That's so hot,' Ella replied. She quickly added, 'I want to try hooking up with a girl.' The next morning, we concocted a new plan with a new set of rules: We would test out a version of our open relationship where we could hook up with same-sex partners without each other present ― women for her and men for me. It would allow us to explore our desires but we also felt there would be less opportunities for jealousy to spring up. We'd thought going to a sex club would be our way to have a non-standard, non-boring relationship. Instead, we realized it was a catalyst ― an initial experience that had informed a whole new line of inquiry into ourselves and our relationship. We'd be a team conducting independent research in tandem, sharing notes and data constantly. We liked our unique strategy. The biggest question for me was: What did this mean about my sexuality? I believed hooking up alongside Ella meant that I was safely heterosexual, according to some weird internal schematic I had drawn up. The thought of having sex with a guy by myself made me nervous. If I liked it, did it mean I'm gay? Had I only told myself I liked women because I was afraid of the alternative? And if so, what did that mean for me and Ella? Would we break up? Was I bisexual? I didn't have any of the answers but I knew I needed them, so I did what any curious guy might do: I downloaded Grindr. I was instantly blown away by the smorgasbord of meat on display on the hookup app. I wasn't even sure what or who I'd be attracted to, and having so many options overwhelmed me. Eventually, someone messaged me, and suddenly dozens of requests from men were coming in. In all my years, I'd never had strangers actively hitting on me — it felt strange but amazing. I was still too nervous to actually meet up with anyone, but I was beginning to warm up to the idea. I was on Grindr a few weeks later when I got a message from a nearby guy. 'Into?' he asked. Unsure of what to reply ― or what I was even really into when it came to hooking up with a man ― I wrote, 'Whatever you are!' He immediately sent me his GPS location. Ella and I looked at each other. We'd discussed boundaries, expectations and the importance of safe sex when anonymously hooking up with people outside our duo. Was this the moment we'd been preparing for? I had the roller coaster jitters again, but Ella, my cheerleader, reminded me, 'Try anything once.' I chugged a beer for courage, kissed my supportive girlfriend goodbye, and walked towards my first hook-up with a guy. I expected a flirty first date, but instead the guy I'd messaged with silently intercepted me outside his house. He was handsome with a firm jaw. I tried kissing him, but he seemed disinterested. I offered a true cliché: 'I've never done anything like this before.' I thought we'd go up to his room, have some wine and banter about our lives, but, instead, without saying a word, he dragged me to his parked car and awkwardly shoved me into the back seat. I wanted to seem sexy and experienced, so I just went with the flow, even though I had no idea why we were in his car. Maybe he had roommates at home? Maybe he got off on semi-public sex? I guess this is cruising? I thought. He unzipped my pants, squirmed onto my lap, and jostled himself around. He unwrapped a condom, placed it on me and then suddenly, I was inside of him. Before I even really realized what was happening, I was doing it! After a few minutes of uncomfortable and uninspired movement he came and went, leaving me in his steamy car to clean myself up. He hadn't even bothered to get me off. I felt used. As I sat in the afterglow of the unsatisfying experience, I wondered what I was now. The sex wasn't even good, let alone intimate. But I was attracted to him. Was I gay? Was I bisexual? Was I just confused? When I told Ella what happened, she thought it was so sexy and courageous that it made me excited to try again. She laughed when I told her I didn't even finish. 'Now you know how girls feel when guys use them,' she told me. Touché! We decided to collect more data and search for guys I had more of a connection with. Together we surfed the apps, swiping and researching new dating lingo. I had several more ― and much better ― hookups before I ultimately understood that I really like men and women. Men were scratchy, smelly and I didn't love their firm bodies. Women were nice to touch, smell, and kiss everywhere. But there was one thing many women didn't have: one firm part that I really did like. When it went from soft to stiff, my bi-curiosity became bi-certainty. I didn't officially come out as bisexual. I was ― and am ― honest about who I am, but most people just assume I'm straight since I have a girlfriend (even though I have an earring in the 'gay ear,' l love show tunes and I live in West Hollywood). But I'm not straight and I feel it's important for me to say that, which is partially why I wrote such a personal piece and I'm publishing it on such a visible site. There is still a stigma for bisexual men ― even in the queer community. Many believe that we can't really like women and men. That we're lying if we say we do. That we're tricking our partners or that we'll eventually end up leaving our female partners for men. That's not true. We do exist. Our sexuality isn't a lie and I hope the more we talk about it, the more perceptions will change. Since discovering my sexuality, I've educated myself on the LGBTQ+ struggle and learned that it's not over ― not by a long shot. In fact, things are getting worse. I've become aware of my privilege and know that just because a cis white guy on the West Coast can freely experiment at sex parties doesn't mean everybody can. Witnessing how queer people are still treated ― in the U.S. and around the world ― has disgusted and radicalized me. Seeing anti-trans and anti-gay laws grow new and deeper roots in this country has made me realize that if I don't come out, then I am just taking advantage of all the efforts of braver people than me and I'm not doing my part to make things better. I believe the very least I can do is to be proudly bisexual and talk about my experiences in the hope that it might give more visibility to our community and show that queer people come in all kinds of packages. Maybe someone reading this will be inspired to share their own story. Maybe they'll be less afraid to be who they really are and like what they like. Things are great with me and Ella. We're getting married later this year, but we've decided to keep our arrangement. Opening up our relationship and embracing our bisexuality has only strengthened our bond. We communicate what we need from each other, we're open and honest about all parts of our lives and we genuinely want to do whatever we can to make each other happy ― and that includes us getting pleasure from other people. And then, when we're done, we come home to each other. We continue to experiment and be open to what life ― and our lives together ― might bring us and we continue to live by the mantra, 'try anything once, maybe even twice.'
The Advertiser
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
Avoid bad breath, don't pick partners when drunk: ancient dating tips to find modern love
To love and be loved is something most people want in their lives. In the modern world, we often see stories about the difficulties of finding love and the trials of dating and marriage. Sometimes, the person we love doesn't love us. Sometimes, we don't love the person who loves us. Ancient Greeks and Romans also had a lot to say about this subject. In fact, most of the issues people face today in their search for love are already mentioned in ancient Greek and Roman literature. So, what did they say? And is the advice they put forward still relevant for modern people? The Roman poet Ovid (43BCE-17CE) wrote a poem called The Art of Love (Ars Amatoria). In it, he offered advice for those who are still single. First, Ovid says, you should make an effort to find someone you're interested in. Your lover "will not come floating down to you through the tenuous air, she must be sought". As suitable places to find a lover, Ovid recommends walking in porticos and gardens, attending the theatre, or (surprisingly enough) lingering near law courts. You need to catch someone's eye and then invent an excuse to talk with them, he says. Seek your lover in the daytime, says Ovid. Be careful of the night. You won't choose the right person if you're drunk. And you can't see their face properly if it's too dark - they might be uglier than you think. Second, Ovid says you need to look presentable. Make sure your clothes are clean and you have a good haircut. Moreover, keep yourself groomed properly at all times: Ovid's The Art of Love may be regarded as a kind of love manual. But aside from making personal efforts to find a lover, people could also use matchmakers. However, matchmaking was a difficult process. Sometimes matchmakers didn't tell the truth about the situations of the parties involved. So the Athenian writer Xenophon (430-353 BCE) says people were sometimes "victims of deception" in the matchmaking process. The ancients recognised that not being in love can be a problem. They thought it bad for your mental and physical health, but also for society more broadly. For example, the Roman writer Claudius Aelian (2nd-3rd century CE) in his Historical Miscellany says soldiers who are in love will fight better than soldiers who are not in love: According to Aelian, the Spartans had a punishment for men who did not fall in love: So, when two people are in love, they can inspire each other and bring out the best in one another. Being in love can help a person become better and achieve more. If we are lucky, the person we love will also love us back, and we won't have any love rivals. But what happens when the person we love is also loved by someone else? We may need to put in more effort to win the affection of that person, but sometimes this brings us into conflicts. For example, the Roman orator and politician Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE), in his On the Orator, tells how Gaius Memmius, Roman tribune of the year 111 BCE, apparently took a bite out of his love rival's arm, "when he had a quarrel with him at Tarracina over a girlfriend". Some ways to keep one's lover interested that are mentioned in ancient sources include showing off one's wealth. For example, in one of the plays of the poet Alexis (375-275 BCE) a young man who is in love puts on a large banquet to impress his girlfriend with a display of wealth. Engagements were at that time sometimes cancelled if it turned out the husband was too poor. Of course, things did not always work out, and people had grievances against former lovers. One particularly famous invective was from the poet Martial (38-104 CE) to a woman called Manneia: Today, we often see debates about whether it's better to stay single or get into a relationship. The same goes for antiquity. In the 4th-century BCE play Arrephoros or The Pipe Girl by poet Menander, one character says: Others lamented that they missed their opportunity for love. So the poet Pindar (6th-5th century BCE) wrote a poem regretting that he could not make the much younger Theoxenus his boyfriend: Clearly, finding a lover was as difficult then as it is now. To love and be loved is something most people want in their lives. In the modern world, we often see stories about the difficulties of finding love and the trials of dating and marriage. Sometimes, the person we love doesn't love us. Sometimes, we don't love the person who loves us. Ancient Greeks and Romans also had a lot to say about this subject. In fact, most of the issues people face today in their search for love are already mentioned in ancient Greek and Roman literature. So, what did they say? And is the advice they put forward still relevant for modern people? The Roman poet Ovid (43BCE-17CE) wrote a poem called The Art of Love (Ars Amatoria). In it, he offered advice for those who are still single. First, Ovid says, you should make an effort to find someone you're interested in. Your lover "will not come floating down to you through the tenuous air, she must be sought". As suitable places to find a lover, Ovid recommends walking in porticos and gardens, attending the theatre, or (surprisingly enough) lingering near law courts. You need to catch someone's eye and then invent an excuse to talk with them, he says. Seek your lover in the daytime, says Ovid. Be careful of the night. You won't choose the right person if you're drunk. And you can't see their face properly if it's too dark - they might be uglier than you think. Second, Ovid says you need to look presentable. Make sure your clothes are clean and you have a good haircut. Moreover, keep yourself groomed properly at all times: Ovid's The Art of Love may be regarded as a kind of love manual. But aside from making personal efforts to find a lover, people could also use matchmakers. However, matchmaking was a difficult process. Sometimes matchmakers didn't tell the truth about the situations of the parties involved. So the Athenian writer Xenophon (430-353 BCE) says people were sometimes "victims of deception" in the matchmaking process. The ancients recognised that not being in love can be a problem. They thought it bad for your mental and physical health, but also for society more broadly. For example, the Roman writer Claudius Aelian (2nd-3rd century CE) in his Historical Miscellany says soldiers who are in love will fight better than soldiers who are not in love: According to Aelian, the Spartans had a punishment for men who did not fall in love: So, when two people are in love, they can inspire each other and bring out the best in one another. Being in love can help a person become better and achieve more. If we are lucky, the person we love will also love us back, and we won't have any love rivals. But what happens when the person we love is also loved by someone else? We may need to put in more effort to win the affection of that person, but sometimes this brings us into conflicts. For example, the Roman orator and politician Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE), in his On the Orator, tells how Gaius Memmius, Roman tribune of the year 111 BCE, apparently took a bite out of his love rival's arm, "when he had a quarrel with him at Tarracina over a girlfriend". Some ways to keep one's lover interested that are mentioned in ancient sources include showing off one's wealth. For example, in one of the plays of the poet Alexis (375-275 BCE) a young man who is in love puts on a large banquet to impress his girlfriend with a display of wealth. Engagements were at that time sometimes cancelled if it turned out the husband was too poor. Of course, things did not always work out, and people had grievances against former lovers. One particularly famous invective was from the poet Martial (38-104 CE) to a woman called Manneia: Today, we often see debates about whether it's better to stay single or get into a relationship. The same goes for antiquity. In the 4th-century BCE play Arrephoros or The Pipe Girl by poet Menander, one character says: Others lamented that they missed their opportunity for love. So the poet Pindar (6th-5th century BCE) wrote a poem regretting that he could not make the much younger Theoxenus his boyfriend: Clearly, finding a lover was as difficult then as it is now. To love and be loved is something most people want in their lives. In the modern world, we often see stories about the difficulties of finding love and the trials of dating and marriage. Sometimes, the person we love doesn't love us. Sometimes, we don't love the person who loves us. Ancient Greeks and Romans also had a lot to say about this subject. In fact, most of the issues people face today in their search for love are already mentioned in ancient Greek and Roman literature. So, what did they say? And is the advice they put forward still relevant for modern people? The Roman poet Ovid (43BCE-17CE) wrote a poem called The Art of Love (Ars Amatoria). In it, he offered advice for those who are still single. First, Ovid says, you should make an effort to find someone you're interested in. Your lover "will not come floating down to you through the tenuous air, she must be sought". As suitable places to find a lover, Ovid recommends walking in porticos and gardens, attending the theatre, or (surprisingly enough) lingering near law courts. You need to catch someone's eye and then invent an excuse to talk with them, he says. Seek your lover in the daytime, says Ovid. Be careful of the night. You won't choose the right person if you're drunk. And you can't see their face properly if it's too dark - they might be uglier than you think. Second, Ovid says you need to look presentable. Make sure your clothes are clean and you have a good haircut. Moreover, keep yourself groomed properly at all times: Ovid's The Art of Love may be regarded as a kind of love manual. But aside from making personal efforts to find a lover, people could also use matchmakers. However, matchmaking was a difficult process. Sometimes matchmakers didn't tell the truth about the situations of the parties involved. So the Athenian writer Xenophon (430-353 BCE) says people were sometimes "victims of deception" in the matchmaking process. The ancients recognised that not being in love can be a problem. They thought it bad for your mental and physical health, but also for society more broadly. For example, the Roman writer Claudius Aelian (2nd-3rd century CE) in his Historical Miscellany says soldiers who are in love will fight better than soldiers who are not in love: According to Aelian, the Spartans had a punishment for men who did not fall in love: So, when two people are in love, they can inspire each other and bring out the best in one another. Being in love can help a person become better and achieve more. If we are lucky, the person we love will also love us back, and we won't have any love rivals. But what happens when the person we love is also loved by someone else? We may need to put in more effort to win the affection of that person, but sometimes this brings us into conflicts. For example, the Roman orator and politician Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE), in his On the Orator, tells how Gaius Memmius, Roman tribune of the year 111 BCE, apparently took a bite out of his love rival's arm, "when he had a quarrel with him at Tarracina over a girlfriend". Some ways to keep one's lover interested that are mentioned in ancient sources include showing off one's wealth. For example, in one of the plays of the poet Alexis (375-275 BCE) a young man who is in love puts on a large banquet to impress his girlfriend with a display of wealth. Engagements were at that time sometimes cancelled if it turned out the husband was too poor. Of course, things did not always work out, and people had grievances against former lovers. One particularly famous invective was from the poet Martial (38-104 CE) to a woman called Manneia: Today, we often see debates about whether it's better to stay single or get into a relationship. The same goes for antiquity. In the 4th-century BCE play Arrephoros or The Pipe Girl by poet Menander, one character says: Others lamented that they missed their opportunity for love. So the poet Pindar (6th-5th century BCE) wrote a poem regretting that he could not make the much younger Theoxenus his boyfriend: Clearly, finding a lover was as difficult then as it is now. To love and be loved is something most people want in their lives. In the modern world, we often see stories about the difficulties of finding love and the trials of dating and marriage. Sometimes, the person we love doesn't love us. Sometimes, we don't love the person who loves us. Ancient Greeks and Romans also had a lot to say about this subject. In fact, most of the issues people face today in their search for love are already mentioned in ancient Greek and Roman literature. So, what did they say? And is the advice they put forward still relevant for modern people? The Roman poet Ovid (43BCE-17CE) wrote a poem called The Art of Love (Ars Amatoria). In it, he offered advice for those who are still single. First, Ovid says, you should make an effort to find someone you're interested in. Your lover "will not come floating down to you through the tenuous air, she must be sought". As suitable places to find a lover, Ovid recommends walking in porticos and gardens, attending the theatre, or (surprisingly enough) lingering near law courts. You need to catch someone's eye and then invent an excuse to talk with them, he says. Seek your lover in the daytime, says Ovid. Be careful of the night. You won't choose the right person if you're drunk. And you can't see their face properly if it's too dark - they might be uglier than you think. Second, Ovid says you need to look presentable. Make sure your clothes are clean and you have a good haircut. Moreover, keep yourself groomed properly at all times: Ovid's The Art of Love may be regarded as a kind of love manual. But aside from making personal efforts to find a lover, people could also use matchmakers. However, matchmaking was a difficult process. Sometimes matchmakers didn't tell the truth about the situations of the parties involved. So the Athenian writer Xenophon (430-353 BCE) says people were sometimes "victims of deception" in the matchmaking process. The ancients recognised that not being in love can be a problem. They thought it bad for your mental and physical health, but also for society more broadly. For example, the Roman writer Claudius Aelian (2nd-3rd century CE) in his Historical Miscellany says soldiers who are in love will fight better than soldiers who are not in love: According to Aelian, the Spartans had a punishment for men who did not fall in love: So, when two people are in love, they can inspire each other and bring out the best in one another. Being in love can help a person become better and achieve more. If we are lucky, the person we love will also love us back, and we won't have any love rivals. But what happens when the person we love is also loved by someone else? We may need to put in more effort to win the affection of that person, but sometimes this brings us into conflicts. For example, the Roman orator and politician Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE), in his On the Orator, tells how Gaius Memmius, Roman tribune of the year 111 BCE, apparently took a bite out of his love rival's arm, "when he had a quarrel with him at Tarracina over a girlfriend". Some ways to keep one's lover interested that are mentioned in ancient sources include showing off one's wealth. For example, in one of the plays of the poet Alexis (375-275 BCE) a young man who is in love puts on a large banquet to impress his girlfriend with a display of wealth. Engagements were at that time sometimes cancelled if it turned out the husband was too poor. Of course, things did not always work out, and people had grievances against former lovers. One particularly famous invective was from the poet Martial (38-104 CE) to a woman called Manneia: Today, we often see debates about whether it's better to stay single or get into a relationship. The same goes for antiquity. In the 4th-century BCE play Arrephoros or The Pipe Girl by poet Menander, one character says: Others lamented that they missed their opportunity for love. So the poet Pindar (6th-5th century BCE) wrote a poem regretting that he could not make the much younger Theoxenus his boyfriend: Clearly, finding a lover was as difficult then as it is now.
The Guardian
23-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Poem of the week: The Song of Arachnid by Gillian Allnutt
The Song of Arachnid Webs are small and spacious as simplicity, See-through as a summer's day, old-fashioned as A slip of butter-muslin, girlhood's own, or A cotton hanky. We are poor predators, love to catch the light As it falls from the air, invaluable as What is not yet born, an acrobatic dot And carry one. It's Our Arachnid, ancestor, mother of all Of us, mother of gorm and of gormlessness Among women. Humble herself in origin, Hard she works through us. Nothing can cut the umbilical cord that Calls us back to her, her bellyful of thread Paid out and yet perpetual, her silken Sac where we began. She is alone, outwith the worn orb web of The world. She's woven into the wherewithal Of her own imagination, her mantle Of maternity. She is alone and she is loved among, as No-one else in all her anonymity. One foot on the mountain, one foot on the web's Her way, as she says. The legend of the weaving contest between the goddess Minerva (Pallas Athene) and the humbly born Arachne, is told by Ovid in Metamorphoses. The goddess is infuriated by Arachne's ingratitude for her talent, and horrified by the scenes of un-godly behaviour her magnificent weaving depicts. After Minerva has ripped up Arachne's work and beaten her with her shuttle, Arachne slips a noose around her neck. Minerva spares her life, but Arachne doesn't avoid punishment: 'Her whole body became tiny. Her slender fingers stuck to her sides as legs, the rest is belly, from which she still spins a thread, and, as a spider, still spins her ancient web.' In this week's poem, from Gillian Allnutt's new collection, Lode, Arachne becomes Arachnid, mother-spider and deified leader of her tribe. The ode that crowns Arachnid's annual festival offers the tribe's gratitude 'to her and to their own being in her', Allnutt's endnote tells us. Ovid's Arachne was rude and scornful about old age when Minerva appeared to her disguised as a grey-haired woman with a stick. Allnutt's poem doesn't only transform Arachne; it hands power to the singer-speaker, an elder of the tribe. Celebrating Arachnid's power, she affirms her own. Allnutt, who describes herself as a cultural Christian rather than a Christian poet, brings traces of Christian theology into her feminist and matriarchal narrative. Arachne's redemption is through humility, signalled in a delicately homely first stanza: 'Webs are small and spacious as simplicity / See-through as a summer's day, old-fashioned as / A slip of butter-muslin, girlhood's own.' 'Webs' (importantly plural) represent simplicity, openness, respect for tradition. Once defiant in the self-assertion of young genius, Arachne/Arachnid is restored by her spider-smallness to her true imaginative resources. Imperfection is admitted. Spiders are 'poor predators [who] love to catch the light / As it falls from the air': like all life-forms, they're devourers. Perhaps they're especially like artists and writers in seeing their prey not as meat but as moving light. The winged creatures such arachnids trap become their means of self-creation, the wonders of addition: 'What is not yet born, an acrobatic dot / And carry one.' Arachnid is always reborn, always mother. Her celebrant utters a gasp of thrilled discovery in the enjambment of verses two and three: 'It's // Our Arachnid.' Certain phrases in verse three evoke the rhythmic murmur of the prayer, Hail, Mary. But Allnutt's goddess is wonderfully, humorously, earthed. She's no 'Mother of God'. As 'ancestor, mother of all / Of us' Arachnid is also 'mother of gorm and gormlessness / Among women.' 'Gorm' may be a northern dialect word for 'understanding'. Understanding, of a deep, grainy, common-sense kind, is what registers in the poem. Its opposite, the more familiar 'gormlessness', is the less ideal aspect of 'simplicity'. Its use echoes the poem's refusal of unthinking praise – the kind of praise Minerva expected from Arachne. The children of the spider-goddess are imperfect, too. But they are still the offspring of a divine mother, the 'worn orb web' of earth, yet 'woven into the wherewithal / Of her own imagination, her mantle / Of maternity.' Allnutt refreshes her diction with inventive interweavings: little grammatical 'reversals' such as 'Hard she works through us' and words with an antique patina: 'silken', 'mantle', 'outwith', 'wherewithal'. Her alliterative music is a mnemonic web that reminds us that the tribal song lives by its orality. There are often whispers of end-rhyme. The tiny versatile spider of the word 'as' recurs in verses one, two and six, signalling resemblance, duration and motion – the thread that is 'paid out and yet perpetual'. In the last stanza, antithesis arrives at a more intriguing synthesis. The spider-goddess is 'alone and [she is ] loved among, as / No-one else in all her anonymity.' The quality of being 'among' others and 'anonymous' – but unique – becomes a specific tribute in the line, 'One foot on the mountain, one foot on the web's / Her way'. The reference is to Lilian Mohin's 1979 anthology of British feminist poetry, One Foot on the Mountain. A poetry anthology is an apt symbol of collectivism and individuality. And this particular anthology importantly 'mothered' the art and politics of its female contributors. Lilian Mohin is remembered here by Cherry Potts, who in turn went on to found the Arachne Press. Celebrating these poetic Mothers and their work, The Song of Arachnid presents the ecology of a feminised, maternally attentive cosmos in which weaving and mountaineering can both be 'her way' and its generous, ecofeminist vision is enhanced by the celebration of real-life poetic mothers. The Song of Arachnid was written for the Hardwick Park Festival of Minerva.
Yahoo
21-06-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Are These 2 'Strong Buy' Rated Growth Stocks Buys Right Now?
Investing in biotech penny stocks is fraught with volatility, regulatory hurdles, and uncertain clinical results. Penny stocks are companies that trade for less than $5 per share. However, for those with a high risk tolerance, these small-cap stocks can provide outsized returns, particularly when scientific breakthroughs or U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approvals result in explosive gains. With Wall Street analysts issuing 'Strong Buy' ratings on these two high-potential plays, let's dig in to see whether these growth stocks could deliver on their promises. With a market capitalization of $21 million, Ovid Therapeutics is a small clinical-stage biopharmaceutical company focused on developing treatments for rare neurological disorders. Ovid's business model is centered on central nervous system (CNS) disorders, which are a challenging therapeutic area. Its pipeline includes novel compounds in early- to mid-stage development that target epilepsy and other genetically based neurological disorders. OVID stock has fallen 67.6% year-to-date (YTD), compared to the S&P 500 Index's ($SPX) gain of 1.6%. Dear Tesla Stock Fans, Mark Your Calendars for June 30 3 ETFs with Dividend Yields of 12% or Higher for Your Income Portfolio This Options Tool Can Show You How to Trade Tesla Stock Ahead of Robotaxi Day Get exclusive insights with the FREE Barchart Brief newsletter. Subscribe now for quick, incisive midday market analysis you won't find anywhere else. Ovid currently has no FDA-approved products on the market. However, Wall Street analysts have called OVID a "Strong Buy," with all six analysts covering the stock rating it as such. Still, the company has also received a delisting notice from Nasdaq for failing to maintain the minimum bid price of $1.00 per share. Ovid has until Aug. 11, 2025, to regain compliance by maintaining a closing bid price of at least $1.00 for 10 consecutive trading days. Ovid's pipeline is small in size but very targeted. The most closely watched candidate is OV329, a highly selective small-molecule inhibitor of GABA aminotransferase (GABA-AT). OV329 is intended to treat epilepsy that has not responded to previous treatments. In preclinical models, the candidate has shown promise in controlling seizures while causing fewer side effects than existing treatments such as vigabatrin. Ovid Therapeutics anticipates Phase 1 trial results in the third quarter of 2025. The company has a good chance of its stock ticking upwards if the Phase 1 topline results for OV329 turn out positive. Ovid's other candidate is OV350, a next-generation KCC2 modulator that is also being tested in a Phase 1 trial. The company generated $130,000 in revenue from royalty agreements during Q1. At the end of the quarter, its cash, equivalents, and marketable securities totaled $43 million. This gives the company an estimated runway through the second half of 2026. Ovid has received a 'Strong Buy' rating on Wall Street because of its rich pipeline of rare disease treatments. The stock may appeal to long-term aggressive investors who are comfortable with volatility and have a strong interest in innovative science. However, I believe investors should wait until Ovid either clears the $1 delisting threshold or proves its clinical strategy with positive results. Analysts have an average target price of $2.88 for the stock, which implies upside potential of 860% from current levels. The Street-high price estimate stands at $4 for OVID stock. With a market cap of $609 million, Nuvation Bio is a clinical-stage biotech company that develops targeted oncology treatments for challenging cancers with limited treatment options. However, it may soon release a revenue-generating product to the market this year. NUVB stock is down 27.7% YTD, compared to the overall market gain. Nuvation Bio's pipeline includes programs addressing a variety of oncology targets, including breast, ovarian, and lung cancer. Its pipeline currently consists of four core programs: taletrectinib (ROS1 inhibitor), NUV-1511 (drug-drug conjugate), safusidenib (brain-penetrant IDH1 inhibitor), and NUV-868 (BET inhibitor). Taletrectinib, Nuvation's lead candidate for the treatment of ROS1+ and advanced non-small cell lung cancer, has already been approved in China and the United States. The company hopes to begin commercializing taletrectinib in mid-2025. In March, the firm secured $250 million in non-dilutive financing from Sagard Healthcare Partners, as well as $150 million in royalty financing and $50 million in debt, subject to approval. Nuvation also has the option to secure an additional $50 million in debt until June 30, 2026 if it completes its first commercial sale in the United States. Safusidenib is currently in Phase 2 trials, and NUV-1511 is in Phase ½ trials. The company intends to provide updates for both during the second half of 2025. Nuvation ended Q1 with $461.7 million in cash, cash equivalents, and marketable securities. A favorable FDA decision could open up significant market opportunities for the company. Nuvation Bio's late-stage pipeline, strong cash position, and clear commercialization path make it an appealing biotech growth stock to buy right now. However, the company's ability to generate profits after commercialization may take years, making it an appropriate choice for those with a high risk tolerance and a longer investment horizon. Overall, Wall Street rates NUVB stock a 'Strong Buy.' Of the seven analysts covering the stock, six rate Nuvation as a 'Strong Buy' while one recommends a 'Moderate Buy" rating. The average price target of $7.17 suggests that NUVB stock could rally around 258% over the next 12 months. The high price estimate of $10 suggests a gain of 400% over current levels. On the date of publication, Sushree Mohanty did not have (either directly or indirectly) positions in any of the securities mentioned in this article. All information and data in this article is solely for informational purposes. This article was originally published on
