I co-host a weekly podcast about periods called The Crimson Wave where I shoot the breeze with comedians about aunt flow, cousin red, and “Murphy Brown” (my new favourite term for my “Candice Bergen” cycles). We also have been known to discuss vaginas, contraception, Degrassi, Anne Hathaway, dog yeast infections, etc. One particularly fascinating conversation we have had with every female and male guest is whether or not they would receive or provide oral sex while menstruation is afloat. The responses have been quite varied however the most common reaction has been an unyielding “NO FUCKING WAY.” Less frequently we get a pondering “uh…maybe….?” and even less frequently, a nonchalant “Yeah, I’m down.”

Before three months ago I was among the pondering “uh…maybe…?” folks. I was unsure because it had simply never been presented to me as a pleasurable option and I didn’t think to put in a request considering how off-limits most people thought it to be. I wondered, though, if I was propositioned by a young lad who was eager to brunch at Red Beaver Creek Saloon and Tavern, would I be open to said lad’s mouth potentially filling with my menstrual blood? Would I be able to enjoy it? Would I stereotypically eat hoards of chocolate and howl at the moon in solidarity as it was happening? I gotta say that does sound like a cool avant-garde horror film I would be into watching. A movie where the screenwriter is my vagina, the lead actor is the man’s trap, and the director of photography is my terrified eyes wondering why in god’s name I permitted them to witness this.

The horror flick similarities were the worries of the “NO FUCKING WAY” individuals. From their perspective, a person being covered in their period does not a sexy time make. Would they criticize anyone else for doing it? Absolutely not. We all have distinct sexual boundaries/preferences/fetishes and if you’re okay with it and your partner is okay with it then Sue Johanson is fully okay with it too (shout out to the woman who taught me what a blow-job was via wooden dolls!).

Furthermore, there are methods of avoiding the blood-in-mouth murder scene scenario. For example, you can insert a tampon, menstrual cup or sea sponge as all three apparatuses will stop the flow from a-flowin’ but leave plenty of room for the clitoris to keep a-clitorisin’.

When it happened to me however there was no tampon, no menstrual cup, and no sea sponge involved. It was coitus of the spontaneous kind which I did not have time to “prepare” for in any sense of the word (Hint: SASQUATCH CITY, POPULATION ME, NOT ASHAMED OF IT). At the time I was wearing a panty-liner as it was near the end of my Murphy Brown, but trust me when I say the blood continued to be all systems go. It wasn’t in monsoon season any longer but precipitation was in the forecast.

Another hilarious detail to mention is that it happened on my birthday, so July 3rd is now important to me for two reasons. It was the day I was literally born and the day my clitoris was metaphorically born again. The monumental event occurred with a gentleman who I had been flirting with for months. He attended my birthday soiree and the flirting soared to greater heights than it had ever before. Soon enough we were speaking in sexual innuendos and bumping elbows on the dance floor (which was less flirting and more me not understanding how to use my elbows in response to music).

We finally took the flirting to the next level and stripped down to our underpants and placed our privates in front of each other. Now this sir, along with dozens of other sirs, has heard me praise cunnilingus on stage, in my writing, and whilst sitting on faces so he knew I would be more than interested in accepting delivery of it. Before we went home together I was up front and informed him of the state of my uterine lining by saying: “She be shedding, bro.” He replied with a quick “I don’t care, dude!” to which my knees buckled and my entire vulva swelled. There is nothing more titillating in my opinion than a person who isn’t grossed out by period blood.

After we finished the penetration portion of the evening, he instantly began taking a shuttle bus downtown and I instantly reminded him of the slight flooding in the city’s core. I adamantly said he really didn’t have to IF he really didn’t want to. There was no pressure in the slightest. He made my vulva swell once more by cheerfully quipping “But it’s your birthday!” to which I replied “Good point. Please proceed.” For a moment I did worry that my childhood fear of vampires was going to resurrect post-ejaculation. Would I immediately regret this? Was I being TOO open-minded and free-spirited and pro-my-blood-in-the-orifices-of-others? My anxiety began to bubble as I imagined the worst outcomes that could “come” from this situation.

I was distracted and distractions while receiving oral sex does not make orgasming easy. As I deliberated calling it quits mid-tongue-throttle, the clit sensations started hittin’ my bod and my brain relaxed, allowing the rest of me to enjoy the ride.

What also made it seriously less uncomfortable than it could have been was that HE wasn’t uncomfortable with it in the slightest. There’s nothing like a man who casually implies he DESPISES going down on women to make me feel distasteful while he’s sampling the flavours of my vag. This specific gent’s behaviour was refreshing, calming, and goddamn beautiful. For him to embrace something that so many consider to be the ickiest of sexual acts with such enthusiasm was inspiring and made for one of the most liberating experiences of my boinking life. There is a great deal of shame associated with menstruation, especially in the context of copulation. Women’s bodies are scrutinized on a daily basis and our periods are not immune to this barrage of judgement. We’re told we’re disgusting, filthy, emotionally unstable, savage freaks who should hide their unbecoming lady operations in order to not elicit the vomiting of their peers.

Thus for someone to get so up close and personal, to get as intimate as one can get, with an aspect of myself that even I considered too repulsive for cunnilingus action, was evidence that I in fact was not as repulsive as once thought. I could actually be provocative and sensual and alluring even while on my rag and while a person’s face was hangin’ ten with that rag. When it was all said done and the climax had been achieved, he pulled away, wiped his mouth, looked at his hand, looked at me and said while grinning ear to ear, “That was great and I didn’t even get much blood in my mouth!” which are possibly the most romantic words that have ever been spoken to me. Never have I felt more like a confident, carnal sexy beast than in that moment.

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