Image from: www.plateforme-elsa.org

In another addition to my (hopefully) ongoing series of Clinic Reviews, we are graced by a review by my senior Parisian Clinic Expert, "Frenchy McFrenchfry." Obviously her name has been changed to protect her identity, but I am incredibly excited to post her review of what seems to be a fantastic and revolutionary, if not at times unethical, sexual health clinic in Paris. Please to be enjoy.

I am a fairly straight female, and I went to a clinic in Paris, France. It's a clinic run by the Mouvement Français de Planning Familial (French Movement for Family Planning), or MFPF. I waited maybe an hour to get in and see the doctor, but not because they were very busy. A woman came into the waiting room where I was discussing politics with a new waiting-room buddy and welcomed us into a kind of conference room next door. Once the room was sufficiently filled with nervous-looking French girls, two counselors came in and started asking us what we knew about contraception, and then they corrected our misconceptions and answered our questions. To my utter astonishment, I learned stuff. For instance, I had no idea that abortions, if correctly performed, are almost completely harmless to your body, even after your third or fourth. This is a well-kept secret in the US, apparently. In fact, all the workers at the MFPF were fascinated to hear how all this stuff works in the Barbarous States of America.

Then came something utterly shocking to me as an Amuhrikan: one of the counselors asked us to disclose private medical information! And many of the girls complied! Totally illegal back home, if I'm not mistaken, but kind of cool nonetheless because it creates an open environment. What was not as cool was the actual exam. The doctor was very nice, he would come into the conference every now and then to answer rather private questions in front of everyone else and to call in the next girl (they weren't exactly strict about appointments, they were like "who was here first?" and I was like "me," and other girls were like "I have class, can I go first?" and I was like "uh, sure..."). But once I got in to see him, he seemed to be pretending not to understand my (practically fluent) French, which made giving him the necessary information very difficult. He was just going to give me my birth control prescription (which I am admittedly dubious about because he seemed unsure about which French brand to give me) but I had something I wanted him to check out, so he made me undress in a practically open corner of the room, which I found awkward, and then proceeded to poke and prod without letting me know what he was doing or why. Then he handed me my pap smear in an envelope and told me to go mail it with a check for 17 euro.

The whole business cost me 22 euro, plus the 17 euro check for the lab, plus the 88 centimes to mail my own pap smear, plus 22.40 for three months' worth of birth control pills. Hopefully my school insurance will reimburse me. But not shabby, really, even if the experience was a bit of a culture shock. But here I have to say that the MFPF is pretty amazing, very feminist, very pro contraception, pro giving out correct information instead of scaring girls into being careful, and anti forced marriage (which is actually a huge problem here). Actually, a few weeks ago I unwittingly met one of MFPF's founders, and he was very nice.

I'd give this experience a 7 out of 10 for sheer novelty. MFPF is fantastic about contraception, but you should really go to a private practice if you want anything else done (or are American).

REMINDER: If you would like to write a review of your local sexual health clinic from your perspective, please email me for more information.

Congratulations California, you're the first state to amend the consitution in a way to take rights away from citizens. I understand, I see your trick. Pulling the rug from under everyone, if you will. Well played, California, well played. You were getting sick and tired of people seeing our state as progressive, forward thinking, fashion forward & tolerant...nay, accepting. Who needs all that attention and responsibility, really? So good job California, you've joined the rest of the oppressive fucks.

One argument in support of Prop 8, the proposition to eliminate same-sex marriage rights, is that the California supreme court went over the heads of the people to legalize same sex marriage without a vote from the citizens. Just so you know, both the right for women to vote and the legalization of interracial marriage were made by the supreme court during a time when a majority of voters were against such rights.

Also, a point of consolation that I've been hearing has been "it's okay that Prop 8 passed, we have to make baby steps." Really? So what have we been doing since Stonewall? Fuck, what have we been doing since way before Stonewall? Were those embryonic steps?

And by the way, Domestic Partnership is not the same as marriage. Marriage gives the couple up to 3000 rights. Domestic Partnership? 27 rights. Yeah, thats fair and equal, right?

So once again California, congratulations. Who needs to be ahead? Fuck, who needs to follow the example of many other countries, like the heavily Catholic centered Spain who legalized gay marriage years ago? Good job, California.

But just for even measure, and since you're sadistic, I'm looking forward to this fight continuing so that when we win you can switch for us and be our bottom bitches.

As you may have read, two weeks ago I visited the fine San Francisco City Clinic and chronicled my experience (read here). My main point with that post was to work against the stigma of going and getting tested. Also to point out that you shouldn't wait until you see that bump or that goo coming out of your junk to get tested, but to do your best at going for regular testing. Particularly if you are not in a monogamous relationship but that is another post all together.

I might as well post my results in interest of self disclosure...I'm clean bitches! I had no worry, but just like for many other people, getting tested can cause you to have moments of self-doubt.

However, if you find yourself with not so happy results from your recent STD testing and are concerned about openly telling your past partners, you may consider using an e-card service like inSPOT. inSPOT is a website that allows you to send anonymous e-cards to your past sexual partners to let them know that you have an STD and that they might want to get tested as well. While I prefer honesty, this is better than nothing. Thankfully this site also offers a list of places that you can get tested based on where you live.

The image above is my favorite, if not only due to its absurd abrasiveness.

Note: I've decided to visit other clinics in San Francisco to review the experience and will post them at a later date. If you are female, FTM, MTF and/or live outside of San Francisco and would like to write a review of your experience at your local clinic please contact me, I'd like to post your experience for others to read. You can contact me at david@omniphilia.com with "Clinic Review" in the subject line.

Today I went to a conference at San Francisco State University for the first of a two day regional training on Sexual Literacy (think of knowing about sex in a healthy, sex positive, not overly academic manner. Think being able to discuss sex and sexual health like you would discuss shopping). I was asked to speak on a panel about Communication and Sexuality. I agreed to talk about blogging but then when I thought about it I started to freak out, what the fuck am I going to say for 10-15 minutes about blogging?

Then I found out who would be on the panel with me: Carol Queen, sex expert, activist and sexologist for Good Vibrations, and Regina Lynn, former blogger for Wired.com's sex column and author of many great books on sex and technology. The thought of being on the same panel as two very qualified, experienced professionals made my taint shiver.

I decided that since there would be a lot of current students and recent graduates who may want to get into blogging I'd just discuss how I got into it and what I'm doing now. Sort of "hey, i'm a beginner blogger and so can you!" I talked about the importance of never drunk blogging, that you're going to offend people no matter what you do, and how others should choose an easier to remember/pronounce domain name for their blog (i.e. not omniphilia.com).

Carol Queen was brilliant, she discussed how as sexuality researchers it should be our goal in life to go outside academia. To not focus on viewing from the outside looking in. It's something a lot of researchers have recently started talking about publicly, but seems that not many actually follow through with it. Carol was so full of energy and charisma that I was just smiling the entire time.

Regina Lynn was amazing, the way she's able to captivate the crowd was incredibly impressive. Regina discussed her experience with writing for Wired.com, how she approaches blogging as well as giving immensely helpful advice on being a sexuality researcher or writer and dealing with the media.

After the talk Regina signed my copy of her book, "The Sexual Revolution 2.0" with "omniphiliacs RULE!" awesome sauce.

I cannot stress how much I implore you to check out the works of both Regina Lynn and Carol Queen.

Last Saturday I went to Exotic Erotic Ball with my date Amy Winehouse and friend Curtis Walker. He took brilliant pictures that can be viewed on Fleshbot.

Here's the LINK to check out the photos of this eerie and bizarre night.

On October 30th and 31st, the National Sexuality Resource Center, in San Francisco, will be hosting an amazing regional training entitled "Sexual Literacy and Social Chance: Making Your Research Matter." During this two day training you will be able to hear about the work of sexuality researchers, students, academics and community organizations. Day one is focused on panels and workshops, while day two will feature research presentations by sexuality researchers across the United States.

During day one you will hear from those who work community-based research on sexuality, important notes on conducting sexuality research and hear from a panel on communicating about sexuality. Oh right, I'm on that last panel with Dr. Carol Queen and Regina Lynn from Wired.Com. Day two will open with a plenary by Dr. Hector Carrillo, author of The Night is Young: Sexuality in Mexico in the time of AIDS, who will discuss how his research greatly influenced the 2008 International AIDS conference in Mexico City.

For more information, and most importantly to register click HERE

I'm proud to announce that I was recently picked up by Xcritic.com to be on their review panel. That is right, I will be reviewing porn for xcritic.com, and I'm talking ALL kinds of porn.

Xcritic.com stands out from most other adult movie review sites in that they offer intelligent and honest reviews of adult movies. I will be lending my views on adult movies in my usual fashion where I attempt to be funny and attempt to be intelligent. Rest assured that the reviews will be more than "hot" or "funny title."

I will most certainly post a link here when my first review goes up.

My interview with Henry Rollins has gone up at Deviant Nation. To read the interview click HERE

Deviant Nation is a great alt-erotica site filled with gorgeous sets of beautiful women, and to top it off Deviant Nation has an excellent social community, where members talk with each other about music, politics, arts and everything in between!

To check out sample pics from sets and join Deviant Nation, click HERE

This is a long post, scroll to bottom for summary

It was time for my routine STD check. After calling a variety of possible clinics I decided upon SF City Clinic simply because it opened at 8am, perfectly early enough before work starts. Waking up way to early, I arrived 15 min before the opening. Fuck, there is already 10 people waiting in line. 10 people as diverse as you can get. Old, young, Black, Latino, Asian, all socio-economic statuses except the uber-wealthy (they have std checks at home). Right at 8am they let us all file in. Manning the counter is a middle-aged black woman with blonde highlights that match the yellow speckles on her blouse. As we form a line before the red stripe that "ensures" privacy she calmly says "next," quietly waits for you to walk up and confess to whatever sins you've made. Without a flinch or change in intonation she asks, "do you have any symptoms? Is this your first time here?" then gives you a number or letter. However, when I approach I say, "I'm here for a routine check up," without asking if I had been here before she simply gives me number and informational sheet and gives me that look that tells me to walk away. At this point I'm not sure if it was "better" that I got a number or letter.

We all sit in a DMV-like setting. Some more nervous than others. Some more "anonymous" than others. Number 36 is a tall, skinny, blonde man, he was the "lucky one," lucky in that he was first in line. They called his number from the front of the room and he follows, only to return moments later. Five minutes pass, "number 36" is called and he walks back to the front hallway. Again, he returns moments later. Another five minutes and a door open behind us all, an older black woman in a lab coat soothingly breaks the silence, "good morning, number 36?" I'm reminded of a weird mash-up between the films Brazil, Hitchhikers Guide, and the opening scene to Joe vs the Volcano. If only Abe Vigoda was here to offer me orange soda as a gift, if only.

It's difficult to figure out if the jittery guy sitting next to me is nervous because he's symptomatic, had a risky sexual experience that he regrets or just doesn't like waiting. He lifts the newspaper to his face over and over, stands up, paces, and sits down until his letter his called.

As an unspoken rule, eye contact is forbidden. I tested this theory with a few people. Yep, verbotten.

I try to get figure out similarities between those who got numbers, nothing visible. I guess the letters are reserved for those who are symptomatic.

To the side of the waiting area there's a poorly painted mural of what seems to be a tropical jungle. At the top is a painted flowing banner which reads "if it's magic why can't it be everlasting?" this can be construed in a multitude of ways, some more encouraging than other.

After waiting 50 min I'm called for the first time. The first time they call your number is to obtain your general information to an older Asian woman who boarders on sassy and maternal. She tells you to create a password so that you can confidentially check your results online within a week. At the end she asks if I'd like to make a $10 donation. In my own way I figure this is a way to grease their palms and bump me up the list, getting me seen earlier. I oblige.

On one of the cubicle walls facing the waiting room is perhaps the most bizarre public health ad campaign posters I've seen. It reads "dogsaretalking.com -- get tested for syphilis" with a paw print where the o's should be. Accompanied by a picture of a frenchie, dachshund, lab and bulldog, all of puppy age.

A heavy set clinician pops her head out of a door, glasses hanging down her nose. She calls out "42." no answer. "number 42," no answer. She sighs, "four-two." yep, this reminds me of the mash-up film I mentioned earlier.

30 min after I was first checked in, a doctor calls my number. An incredibly personable physician, with sensitivity, care and a non-chalant attitude she took my sexual and drug history. Who I've slept with, what sexual acts, how many people, what kind of drugs I've taken and how often. At which point she would get excited (but not sexually) about a drug I had taken or sexual experience I'd had. She did an incredibly good job at making me feel like I was talking to a long-time friend about my personal history. She didn't seem too worried by my history and made a few jokes that weren't canned, but sincere. Handing me a cup and brown bag, she asked me to fill the cup with my pee-pee as she finished her side of the paper work. As I walked to the restroom, the same heavy set spectacled physician could be heard sighing "fourTY two!?" I come back and give my doctor my pee cup, she checks my hands for syphilis sores (none), chest for rashes (none), and my diiiiick for abnormalities (none).

I then wait again, this time for 10 min to get my blood test, not a bad waiting period. My blood was taken by a Puerto Rican version of one of my sweetest aunts. As she withdrew my blood she spoke to me in a thick accent rattling on about life, giving me tips, telling me to save money and travel. With ease she finished up her phlebotomist task and accented it with minorly complaining about working for the city.

In Summary

Overall time: 2 hours.

I had an overall positive experience at the San Francisco City Clinic. However, I came in knowing that I would be spending a lot of time waiting. The employees ranged from disgruntled city workers to sincere physicians who were excited to work with "the community." Bring a book and expect to deal with the basic beauracracy. If you are able to go to Magnet, Planned Parenthood or any other clinic during the middle of the day, I'm sure it would be worth while. If you have decent insurance, you might as well take advantage of that and get tested there. However, overall SF City Clinic was not bad at all. They also have certain hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays if you currently have symptoms.

SF City Clinic
www.dph.sf.ca.us
356 7th St
San Francisco, CA 94103
(415) 487-5500

Growing up, I was constantly surrounded by relatives. My Persian side of the family not only knew how to breed, but also knew how to marry, divorce, and marry again and breed. And of course in older generations some of my male relatives had multiple wives. My parents have estimated that I have at least 100 relatives in Iran that I have yet to meet. Past girlfriends have been surprised by how many times they would meet new relatives of mine, without realizing that I was meeting said relatives for the first time as well.

Growing up, amongst my multiple uncles I had one that was consistently my favorite. Uncle Homuyoon, just pronounce it phonetically, okay? Homuyoon always had the biggest grin on his face with eyes that would light up a room in a way only a writer who dabbles in cliche's could describe. His laugh was raspy, loud and contagious.

Growing up, my family would drive 7 hours to LA a few times a year to visit my Persian relatives but I couldn't wait for our stay Homuyoon's house. I would be eager to wake up and be presented with his strong hug, loud laugh, and a glass of his freshly made watermelon juice.

I haven't seen Homuyoon in ten years since he moved back to Iran, but I could always picture his smile, his laugh and remember the ways he'd tell stories around the dinner table. Earlier this year Homuyoon was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. Despite the fact that he almost died he did not tell any of his relatives because he did not want us to worry. He just disappeared for a couple of months, save for a call here or there to say he was "fine."

Today I was able to see Homuyoon for the first time in ten years. Driving to my parents house I was giddy but also incredibly sad realizing again that I almost lost one of my favorite people in my life. I don't think he realizes how important he is to me because he looked a little too surprised when I finally saw him I barged in through the door and gave him an intense hug, almost lifting him above the ground.

For four hours I sat with him, my father and my other (not-so-favorite) uncle around the table as we drank tea, ate cheese, bread and grapes. Even though I can barely understand Farsi I just sat in awe at Homuyoon as he told lengthy stories about whatever it was he was saying. Occasionally, he would turn to me and treat me just like he did when I was a kid, but for some reason this was not condescending to me, it was affirming. At one point he stopped mid-story, put a huge grin on his wrinkled face, leaned forward and in his raspy voice said excitedly "HELLO!HELLO!HELLO!" and go back to his story. My fucking god, I loved it. Other times, he would turn to me and in rapid fire ask me questions:
"How is work?"
"good"
"GREAT!"
"Are you married?"
"nope."
"GOOD! stay that way for another 5 years at least!"


He would then continue telling stories alternating between Farsi and English, telling us about where he's living in Iran, how relaxed he is, not having a care in the world (even though this is obviously not the case). Most of my relatives have awkward reactions when they find out I want to be a sex therapist for a living, trying to convince me to stay with computers or become an engineer. When Homuyoon found out he said, "you can get paid for that?! AMAZING! DO IT!" and belted out a laugh that vibrated the room and smacked me hard on the shoulder.

The last time he interrupted his own story telling to interact with me he quickly turned, grabbed my shoulder and said, "don't work too hard!" I told him not to worry about it. Then immediately he said, "and don't save your money!" I looked at my father in confusion, looked back to my uncle and asked, "don't?" "DONT! DON'T save your money. If you do, you'll be able to retire but you wouldn't have lived! Spend your money, travel, buy fun things! DON'T save!"

After all this I eagerly carried his suitcases for him to the car, I figured it was the least I could do for this great man.

This is sappy, I know. This is sentimental, sure. I usually write about fucking and fisting and sex. But I also write about relationships. I really hope Homuyoon will still be around if I'm able to visit Iran next year.