I may be a bad person of poor character, but I sometimes read Dawn Eden’s blog. I know, I know, but ever since I gave up drug abuse, promiscuous sex, satan worshipping, and having abortions for kicks on my slow weekends, there isn’t much left for an intellectual mindfuck but Dawn Eden.
She seems nice enough — fairly reasonable, if a bit judgemental, and certainly speaks as an authority on many of her pet issues. Her favorite thing to write about appears to be sex — all sex all the time in the garden of Eden — but sex is not healthy or normal except within a particular set of constructs. Oh no. Today Ms. Eden decided to bag on one of her greatest blog adversaries, but was wise not to link that heathenous slut lest she turn her blog harpies on dear, chaste Dawn.
A childless feminist blogger took pleasure in taking apart Sandoval’s piece, accusing the writer of hating sex and hating sexually active singles. She buoyed her arguments by noting that while she herself supported having sex outside of marriage, she was not promiscuous—she’d been with the same man for four years.
Oh my. Who could that be? And why are we feminists suddenly divided into child-ful and child-less? I suppose I’m a less heathenous feminist since I have a child. Or wait, a hapless slut (I can never remember). Perhaps Dawn feels this unnamed blogger’s criticisms are too close to home. Nevertheless, she goes on:
Reading that, I thought, this is a woman who does not know what her life is for or who she is. She badly desires to anchor her life in a relationship, yet she has a contingency plan to escape that relationship with no strings attached, should it prove too cumbersome. She takes hormones to prevent her ovaries from releasing eggs, so that her lover’s seed may pass in and out of her without the chance that she’ll actually receive it.
There is so much in this little paragraph to criticize, and we haven’t even gotten to the part yet where she states that “contracepted sex” is merely “coitus interruptus” and thereby inferior to “the mixing of body fluids” that produces God’s Army. She condescends the unnamed blogger’s choice of commitment, suggests this unnamed blogger can not and will not know herself unless she’s knockin’ boots with a wedding ring on (I suppose any asker will do), judges this unnamed blogger’s willingness to face the reality of relationships, assumes quite a bit about the unnamed blogger’s medical contraceptive choices, and actually says the phrase “lover’s seed.”
Lover’s seed. For real? Hopefully a person’s significant other has more to offer a relationship than “his seed,” you know, like mowing lawns and opening jars of mayo. For all the flack feminists get for our supposed single, monolithic view on marriage, sex, and manhood, Dawn seems awfully fixated on the, well, manhood.
Isn’t that interesting?
Someone here is walking wounded and it ain’t the unnamed feminist. But after all of this, I do have one niggling thought. For someone who promotes abstinence until marriage, rages against the “porn-liberal” and only refers to her own sexual life as “chaste,” Ms. Eden sure knows a lot about sex.
UPDATE: Amanda responds. Priceless.