To Sleep Naked or Not to Sleep Naked – That is the Question


I myself find it best to sleep in that which I was originally sleeping in for several months in my mom’s belly – nothing. I don’t believe that sleeping naked puts you in the category of a nudist however – there are plenty of activities I would much rather do with clothes on. Cooking is one of those activities – I can’t even imagine accidentally lighting one of my boobs on fire or getting splattered with hot oil from the frying pan onto my private parts. Shrug.

I have met plenty of people however that would in fact prefer to sleep in clothes. While I stick to my previously stated preference, I can certainly sympathize with their point of view. Having said, here’s the breakdown of all the reasoning on the subject I could think of.


  1. You are one with the bed.

There aren’t any extra layers that keep you from moving whichever direction you want to go. There isn’t anything snagging on the covers preventing them from sliding against your body exactly how you want them to. You are literally one with the bed. You have free reign to slide left and right, even diagonally if you’re feeling adventurous. I have yet to come across a pair of pajamas that wins my heart, and I’ve bought some top notch quality stuff. The shorts rise up your crotch, the pants rise up your leg and you can forget about the baby doll things; they rise all the way up and on top of that if you’re anything like me, the ladies refuse to stay inside a delicate camisole. Who wants to sleep in lacy sexy apparel anyway? All that stuff is just for show and I for one am not about to sacrifice comfort for the sake of being “sexy”. I’m not Eddie Murphy.

  1. More money in your pockets and more space in your drawers.

Everyone has a budget and a lot of people that don’t, probably should. If you can eliminate pajamas from your wardrobe altogether, you’d actually be saving a lot more money than you realize. And let’s not forget about the storage space. Just imagine how much extra room you can have for your endless funny T-shirts.

  1. Your laundry basket doesn’t get filled up as fast.

You wash the clothes that you wear for 8 hours a day so naturally the same logic would apply to the clothes that you wear in bed for on average the same amount of time. Sure you get into them nice and clean and there aren’t any external filthy factors in your bed like there are in the outside world, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t get dirty with use. Same with your sheets, and an even better example your towels – you get out of the shower nice and clean, and wipe yourself with a towel. Even though its sole purpose is to absorb the clean off you, that towel is too going to end up in the laundry bag. So between sheets, towels and every day clothes alone, why add to it with pajamas too? Save that room for clothes you need to wash so you can show them off again and go to sleep naked.

  1. Easy access.

You wake up in the morning next to your loved one, and instead of ruffling through layers of clothes that are probably in all kinds of awkward places, you can just swoop right in there. You’re facing additional road blocks on the way to your happy ending if pajamas are involved. Aint nobody got time for that.

  1. You can use your own body heat to keep you warm better than any layer of clothing.

It’s a proven fact: they used this method during the war to stay warm. Granted, hugging another naked body will probably generate more heat than hugging yourself, but as an experienced self-hugger I assure you, it still works. Just wrap your arms around yourself, and magic warmth will unravel from there.



  1. In case of an emergency, chances of you leaving the house looking decent get slimmer.

Let’s say a natural disaster hits and you don’t have time go and pour yourself a cup of coffee so you can wake up to deal with it properly. It hits, you’re there and you have to escape the building. But oh wait, you’re naked… You don’t have time to go through your drawers to find something to throw on, you’ve got to get your ass out there; the building is on fire! Sure you may have a robe hanging on your door knob for “emergencies” but let’s face it, when you wake up all discombobulated you may even forget that you’re not wearing any clothes and run out there in all your naked glory.


  1. All possible intruders automatically become potential rapists.

Perhaps your luck of living peacefully has run out and a burglar decided to rob your humble abode. Having broken inside the house and having realized that you in fact having nothing worthy of stealing they might just walk away being like “oh well”. But if they see a naked body lying on the bed, they might just be like “Well let’s not make this trip a waste, I might as well just get me some of this” – And then you’re fucked… Literally.


  1. Body heat may be a thing, but it doesn’t transfer that heat to the uninhibited sheets surrounding you.

A friend of mine brought up an interesting point. She says she’s tried sleeping naked and while it’s enticing in some ways, she runs into the problem where if you sleep in one position for a while and then you happen to turn over, the space on the bed to which you are shifting is uninhibited and therefore much colder than your current temperature. She’s going to do further research via buying different sheets – cotton happens to be more temperature friendly all over. I know this because I slide all over my bed and I’ve never run into the problem of waking up in the middle of the night because I accidentally landed on a cold spot.

  1. As a girl, you forfeit the ability to validate your multiple pajama purchases.

Contrary to the point I’ve made earlier where you don’t need to purchase pajamas if you choose to sleep naked, as a girl you may find yourself buying all that shit anyway. Pajamas can be very cute and you constantly tell yourself that you’ll end up using them while you lounge around the house or take them with you to a sleepover. You never do though. It just sits there taking up room, looking pretty inside your drawers in constant darkness for no one to see.

  1. Surprise visits from aunt Flow are even less appreciated in the middle of the night when you’re naked.

No one likes getting their period, unless there’s a specific “thank god I’m not pregnant” situation involved. Getting your period in the middle of the night is the worst. You don’t know of its arrival until after you wake up all bloody in the morning. Sure, perhaps you’re a light sleeper and your bleeding body might wake you up in the middle of the night, but there’s a 50 percent chance of that happening. Pajamas act as a layer between you and your bed. Subtract the pajamas and you get a bloody mattress as well.

  1. Open door policy can get pretty tricky.

Weather you have roommates or babies, sleeping naked becomes a bit of a problem. One or the other is bound to storm into your room and see you at your most vulnerable. You can lock your door if you live with roommates, but you can’t do that when you have children. What if they’re hungry or drowning in the toilet? You have to be able to hear them and be constantly at their beck and call. Adulting is hard enough as it is. Doing so naked is trickier.

To summarize, given the above reasoning it makes sense to leave the nakedness behind and embrace the pajamas. I will do no such thing. I let logic win often enough as it is. Not this time. I think I’ll go take a naked nap now.

Is rape culture really the problem?


A friend shared this post on a concept you may’ve heard about before:

Rape Culture.

Her apt accompanying commentary on it was “If you have a penis, I’m offended for you.”

And… gotta say… I couldn’t help but agree after reading it.


Er… trying to read it. I know it’s superficial and awful and shallow of me, but when I take time to read something online that doesn’t have pretty pictures or funny gifs every so many paragraphs, I expect it to be well delivered, cohesive, and grammatically correct. One hopes to see those things anyway, but somehow I’ve found an inverse relache has developed between my time online and my expectations out of humanity. Even so, I couldn’t but help notice the underlying irony when this particular piece raped its own message with the mechanized masochistic torture dildo of uninspired attempts to relate to the reader and weak metaphors.

I don’t say that to be mean, either.

Because of what I could get through, there were indeed a few gems in it – like that part where he says “it’s not the term, but the idea it describes that matters.” I like that message for any concept. So, what is the idea being described here, then? I felt urged to revisit this concept. After wiki-researching rape culture, I couldn’t help but feel that little twinge which happens any time a cranial clash of polar ideologies meet to make a confusion vortex in my head.

What was this sudden stirring in my mind and intestines alike?


I suppose it’s how “rape culture” is a term that’s overwhelming.

But why? Maybe it’s because the idea that it describes is addressing just one symptom of a larger issue – based on separation of external and internal characteristics alike. I mean, when we all join hands and sit under the soft carcinogenic glow of an X-ray machine, we can see we’re all essentially the same under our genital holes. That’s hard to see when those holes seem to serve the dual purpose of being puppeteered by culture to believe something else.


The same goes for basic belief systems too:

If I cloned a child being groomed for terrorism and placed that clone with a family of twenty who all worship Jesus-Joseph-Smith-‘Murca-Christ, they’d grow up a bit different from eachother, wouldn’t they? They’re still the same person – literally – and yet they develop different identities. Same goes for any two people in the world. And my inhumane thought experiments needn’t be carried out to prove that. We need only recall the fact that we all come from the same star sharts that diarrhea’d our elemental ancestors onto earth once upon a time. And at one point in history, our entire species was just 40 pairs strong. Do you realize that means you, I, Kim Jung Un, and that one voodoo village of people who who put knife slices in their peens to inject reptile guts for virility… all came from that same handful of cavefolk who boo’d up? Holy dick! That’s not many at all!

So how different can I be from you – regardless of what lives in your pelvic beard?


That means that whether we’re acting like a salivating testosterone infused werewolves or educing our estrogen Legion demons and transforming into a shrew who thinks it’s cute to frisbee dinner plates at hubby and call him worthless, it all stems from the same violent intention seeds that grow different branches as they rise from the soil of illusion we fertilize with “I’m from mars; you’re from venus.”

And words – be they cruel banter or the phrase “rape culture” itself do carry power.

What does it mean for you? When I say “rape culture”, my first feeling is a churning in my belly at the first word – ‘cause rape’s not fun when it’s real and happening to you. My second thought is that “Oh, if it’s cultural – then I’m the victim – already”. Thing is, I’m not a victim. I wasn’t before I had the misfortune of being among those on the losing end of this violent act, and you know what? I’m still not a victim. I was victim-ized. Once. In that one moment. By one person. Does that mean everyone else has to Buffalo Bill their mooseknuckles or morph into Mr. Rogers around me? I hope not! Ideally – you be your authentic self to me – which is neither a condescending “let me hold the door for you, honey” nor “let me hold your boobs for you, honey”.

Unless you’re doing it to make me laugh – not be an asshole.

Then I’m all about the crude humor.


But, as we can’t control what people do, we can’t expect that. What we can control is what we do, though. Some might think I mean “don’t dress like you’re acting for it, slut”. I don’t. What I mean is that what we need to encourage is injecting the positive concept of compassion and non-violence in intention, words, and action alike – instead of finger wagging negatively at dingle owners and saying they have something to prove other than just, ya know, not being a douche. Just like us beaver bearers should be doing.

A solution means inviting new ways of looking at problems when current thinking fails.

Are we willing to invite the idea that the problem’s not rape culture?

That maybe it’s something larger – like violence culture? And that violence virus seeps through the cracks of all disparities we fabricate between ourselves – be they about race, religion, sex, whatever? To blame it on one thing like gender irreverence is like saying you just ate bad Chinese food when actually you’re throwing up in the throes of some thoroughgoing infection and then cursing Happy Family’s bourbon chicken instead of actually going to the doctor. You’ve gotta deal with the opportunistic pathogen infecting the whole body so you can heal instead of getting worse. By not taking care of our societal immune system against assholery, little organ systems shut off one by one – whether it was the gunman who opened fire at a college or some freshman at a frat house down the street who’d been roofied the night before. It’s all part of the same illness that takes us down slowly with it. And we exacerbate that societal virus by breeding ignorance-superbacteria after inundating ourselves with misconception-antibiotics we shouldn’t have been prescribed in the fcking first place.

Ultimately, the fallacy of thinking is that the one problem is a bunch of different sicknesses and that we’re all so different from one another. But the true rape culture here is a collective one. We’ve all had our spiritual hymens busted by the cultural cock that transmits with its seed the disease of separatism. So the sooner we stop separating ourselves into childish clubhouses of gender versus gender or creed versus creed, the sooner we can scrub up, grab our scalpels, and excise the violence necrosis.

And the neuroses it manifests too.



Surprise, I knocked you up!


I’m pregnant.

Oh, did I forget quotes there? That’s because (while you won’t hear that phrase from me) Canadian dad-wannabe Craig Hutchinson wasn’t hearing it from his girlfriend either… much to his dismay. However, she wasn’t willing to have to issue that kind of news to him – like – ever. She didn’t want to be a mom. Conundrum? Not for Craig! Their paradoxical dynamic was waning…but somehow still sexually spunky. So, naturally, he took advantage…

…and turned their condoms into Swiss cheese.

You’d think she might have caught on to his underhanded deeds when he kept insisting she “take pregnancy tests”. She didn’t; but she did take the tests. The first one showed up negative, but the second one did not. She was shocked and he was overjoyed. Before too long, however, she got this message from him: “I wanted a baby with you so bad, I sabotaged the condoms. I poked holes in them all.”


Now here’s where it gets tricky: Is it rape?

In court, one judge claimed that it was “sneaky and underhanded, but not rape”, while several others disagreed – saying, “Only informed consent is real consent,” and “Getting consent in a deceitful way is rape.” This is a matter that’s difficult to discern and causes clashes between genders. Men will say it’s not fair because they’re locked in to a kid-commitment if a woman intentionally “forgets” to take the pill and then “forgets” to tell him that she “forgot” until it’s too late. Women will say, it’s not the same because men don’t have to carry the kid around for nine months.

I’m no liberal femi-nazi, but come on.

It’s at least a little worse for the chick in the long run. Note that I say worse “for”, not worse “of”. If you’re a dude who’s been tricked – yeah, she’s got your seed in her belly against your will, and that’s super screwed up of her. On the moral-meter, it doesn’t matter what you’ve got between your legs. You’re an asshole for doing it to someone who trusts you during an intimate act. Unfortunately, there’s a double standard right now about whether it’s “okay” for a chick to do that and I’m not justifying that. Where everything changes, however, is in what happens after that trickery’s been dealt.


As a dude, you can literally pack up and walk away if you want. Hell, a lot of guys do that anyway when they started out “willing” and change their minds. You didn’t sign a document agreeing to physically stay. It puts you in a poor moral position, she may end up filing for you to pay child support, and all of that’s reprehensible of her. But as a man who gets tricked, you aren’t forced to either birth or kill the thing outta your body and then face the physical, mental, and life changing ramifications either choice inevitably causes. A woman who gets tricked has to deal with the physical on top of the financial and mental elements.

A prospective mom – willing or unwilling – physically can’t just walk away from having to make that decision.

If you want to be a mom or dad, find a willing partner! Would I go so far as calling this rape? Not really. Rape is unwanted or forced sexual penetration. But I might say it’s on par with some kind of sexual assault of a different genre. I mean, this lady wanted to be penetrated; she just didn’t want to be impregnated. (Cue to hypocrite Christian choir-lecture about abstinence… because no Christians have pre-marital sex…ever.)

Anyway, they weren’t even doing so well outside of the bedroom anymore, on the verge of splitting ways, and probably just having heated hate-sex by this point. Whether you’re the garden or the gardener, deceitful conception is pretty bad; but it’s even worse when you know you’re in a screwed up relationship that’s heading nowhere. I wouldn’t want to be a product of that.

So, how’s the story end? I’m glad you asked.

Right after this chick found out she’d been knocked up, she was going to keep the kid. It wasn’t until Craig messaged her with a confession, that she called the cops, had an abortion, and subsequently got a uterine infection. Some third party commentary I’ve seen says “she did it out of spite!” and “what a bitch!”


Maybe… but imagine telling yourself, “You can’t have an abortion because you failed at being careful. You have to deal with this,” and then realizing that wasn’t the case – that this was done to you. Would you want to have a child with someone who had intentionally deceived you? Would you want to have his offspring at all? Personally, I’d go ballistic. Actually, “ballsectomy” would be a better term, because I wouldn’t wait for the law to intervene. I’d remove his balls myself.

And what was his motive in even admitting it?

Clearly, he had to know there was a chance she might abort the kid if he had to stoop so low in the first place to turn their condoms into a colander. So what was the point when the fetus’s chance of survival was on thin ice anyway? Other than a way of feeling superior by saying, “Aha! I tricked you!”, what other point could there be in admitting (via text message, no less) to her his sneaky seed deed?

After Canada’s Supreme Court’s ruling that it was indeed a sexual assault, Craig will have a year and a half to mull that question over in jail.