On Desire & Pleasure
Ça sert à rien, pourquoi courir ? Il y en a plein des filles désir
Dear Lazies,
This month, we asked you to reflect on the often-taboo topics of female desire, sex, pleasure, and the shame that surrounds them. In this issue, you’ll find a range of contributions from members of our community — pieces touching on everything from sex toys to salsa dancing, along with thoughtful articles on the theme. Make sure to read to the end: we’ve got exciting news to share!
p.s. You can also play this song from the subheader for full experience ;)
This issue features illustrations from Paulina Odeth and Katalin Fodor
Your Lazies
The Case for Sex Toys (submitted anonymously)
When I was a teenager, I rarely had an orgasm.
I didn’t know how to masturbate, a sense of shame but also something else – impatience, maybe? – overwhelmed me whenever I gave it a try. There might have been a few successful attempts but too scary to pay any attention to.
Contrary to popular wisdom, the majority of women struggle to reach orgasm during intercourse. However, for me, sex was usually the only rescue, my only possibility to have a chance to actually come. Oral sex felt pleasurable but a wave of unexpected and dreadful guilt would almost always kill my arousal. I immediately became aware that I would need a lot of time to let go and properly settle into it and felt ashamed to ask for that time and space, to the constant bewilderment of my partner who would be more than happy to oblige.
One day, basically on a whim, I ordered a small sucking toy and my (sex)life has never been the same. Not only does it look absolutely gorgeous – a black matte beauty with golden trims – it has literally fixed my relationship with masturbation and gave me back what I didn’t know I needed but, on a subconscious level, terribly missed: my orgasmic agency.
Now, whenever I desire a quick release, it’s there, in my bedside drawer, waiting, ready to teach me what my body truly needs. And that it’s ok to ask for it.
My Year of Rest and Whoring (by Lazy Paulina)
By the time I was twenty-five, I had already lived in four different countries, studied in four different universities, gotten over two very difficult periods of depression and suicidal ideation, coupled with an oppressive obsessive-compulsive disorder that worsened during the pandemic, but I had not, however, had sex.
Yes, that’s right, for quite a long time this was the millennial meme that best described me:
(Did I forget to mention I had also driven a total of zero cars by then?)
And yes, I was quite ashamed. When I first went abroad, everyone around me (mostly my noisy aunts) seemed to think that I, who had never had a serious boyfriend, would find the love of my life. That, of course, didn’t happen, and in case my aunts still wonder, no, I also didn’t get to shag. Not once. And that followed me around for quite some time.
And when it came down to it, the question that remained was: What could be so wrong with me that the college-age males of four different nationalities didn’t seem to want me? Naturally, the answer turned me against me. I was probably too flat-chested. The problem was most likely my hair (because we know men really care about that, right?). Or maybe my slightly crooked teeth.
Enter my year of rest and whoring.
It turned out, all that I had needed all along was a rather unhealthy sense of impending doom (because at the end of the day we only have one life and it is finite), followed by a healthy bit of recklessness. I downloaded Tinder and, feeling safer than in my home country, I finally accepted going out on dates, sharing a couple drinks, and walking into people’s apartments with confidence. I stopped caring that it was getting late and in fact I almost always stayed ‘til morning.
Not all dates were good and not all of them led to anything more, but they all helped me realise some important truths. First, that for far too long, and without realising, I had let all my fears dictate my (lack of [sexual]) life. No man was ever put off by my lack of double Ds, no man was repelled by my unmanageable hair or the way I looked when I smiled. Not everyone was out to hurt me either, as I was always expressly led to believe (though I still implore women to move forward with caution on every meeting or encounter).
Though there was still heartbreak (who knew so many men tend to love bomb and ghost you after a couple of nights), becoming what society has always deemed a slut—and to be fair, it doesn’t take much to be called one—was surprisingly freeing. And not because of the men I had ended up having sex with or fooling around the backseat of a cab or the dark corner of some bar or some student’s hall after visiting hours.
Rather, I became free of my own prejudices, against myself but also against other women. I realised that pleasure is not only something to be given, dependent on my flabby or non-flabby bits, but rather something to be had and enjoyed. Fearlessly, unashamedly, despite all we have been taught.
Book Recommendation By Lazy Lauren
I’ve recently been reading Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good by adrienne maree brown, which has offered a really interesting exploration of what it means to put desire, and certainly the erotic, at the centre of how we live - especially as women or non-binary people, people who have been marginalised on the basis of race or sexuality, or people who have experienced trauma in way that has negatively impacted their ability to embrace desire.
The book is a collection of essays, stories, poems, and other examples of artistic expression, both written and curated by the author. Themes focus on pleasure through a sexual lens, with practical as well as theoretical discussion of how to reflect on, and enhance, our own experiences, but there is also dialogue around drug use with a focus on harm reduction, and the idea of pleasure as a political act.
The book was published in 2019, though it’s one I’d have liked to have read 10 years ago, in my early 20s, both to take in the expansive concepts, and to have had chance to dissect my reading with friends close by, almost in a seminar-style discussion. Reading it now, there is still a lot to learn, but also a lot I am glad to already know. That said I’ve also been surprised at how radical some of the examples and stories have felt to read, and tried to welcome this as a challenge to my unconscious biases or perhaps vanilla tendencies.
A recommended read for anyone interested in desire, pleasure, sexuality, and what these concepts mean on both an individual and societal level.
On Having Sex Like a Man (by Lina Pazdnikova)
One of my forever comfort shows is Sex and the City.
Like for many millennials, it was one of the first on-screen representations of sexually liberated women. Yes, today I can spot many cringy issues of the show: male validation as a central motive, lack of representation, stereotyping of queer characters, and don’t even get me started on that mythical New York journalist salary that paid rent and financed Manolo Blahniks! Yet I still return to it like to an old friend.
As a teenager, I thought the ultimate image of an independent, self-sufficient woman was Samantha Jones. I was fascinated by how unapologetic she was in her life choices, and I always saw inspiration in how she always chose her true self and prioritised her own pleasure. In the show it translates in the way she embraces her sexuality — Samantha is indeed the sex of Sex and the City. But what stuck with me for years was her claim that she “has sex like a man.”
Whether I was in a relationship or single, that idea has always been tucked somewhere in my mind, and I can’t help but admit that this model does not really work in real life. Sure, the confidence and unapologetic enjoyment are empowering — but women still face different stakes. Social stigma, risk of pregnancy, vulnerability to violence, and differently wired desire all make “sex like a man” a fantasy model built on consequences men were never burdened with. What is even more problematic is that “having sex like a man” positions male sexuality as a template, which not only reinforces patriarchy but also implies that desire should be goal-oriented, detached, and spontaneous. I find it limiting, because in real life sexual empowerment doesn’t always look like emotional detachment — sometimes, it looks like emotional depth.
What, I think, we truly need is a new model that lets women define sexual autonomy on our own terms. We can blend it with Samantha’s killer confidence and self-love, but our sexuality doesn’t need to mirror a man’s to be valid. In the end, sexual liberation isn’t about flipping roles — it’s about stepping out of them. Women’s desire deserves to stand on its own ground, shaped from within and celebrated as having sex like a woman.
Dance and Rediscovering My Body as a ‘Site of Knowledge’ (by Lazy Farah)
I thought I signed up for dance classes to learn footwork. Instead, it forced me to confront the quiet shame I’d been carrying.
I’d taken salsa and bachata lessons here and there, but never stuck with them - nor, admittedly, had the courage to move past my instinct to shrink. At first, I felt stiff. Whenever the instructor yelled “switch!”, I noticed the sharp distinctions between partners - the tug of limbs, the temperature and texture of each new hand, while diffidently steadying the weight of my own. Eventually, the experience unlocked a fullness in me I hadn’t realized was missing. As I moved up levels, joined new friends at weekend socials, and exchanged that brittle awareness for playful ease, I thought of the tree in Pleasantville, apparitionally ablaze on the front lawn.
I made space for the grief I held for the smaller version of me I’d been living as, despite what felt like a full life. Shame in embracing my shape and sensuality - in the mirror and in front of others, slowly fizzled away and became loving and tender appreciation. Dance asked me to loosen the scripts of what it meant to be physically close to a stranger, hand on waist, co-creating a shared safety with no strings attached.
Revolutionary writer Audre Lorde named the body a site of profound knowledge called “the erotic” - a resource beyond the sexual that we all possess, but that patriarchal culture has numbed. Reclaiming it requires a deep understanding of the “chaos of our strongest feelings”:
“For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves.”
Lorde reminds me that practicing fearlessness and self-connection is a political act - the pursuit of pleasure as an expansion of power and knowledge within our lives. During most of those 55-minute classes, my brain finally quieted, a rare occurrence. Gliding across the floor held in each other’s arms, tingling through the balls of my feet, loosening my knees, and rocking my hips, I learned to allow the fun, powerful - and sexy in.
Dance unlocked, as Lorde describes, my “internal sense of satisfaction that I now know I can aspire to,” imploring me to require no less of myself.
Press Stand 📰
Make sure to check out our most recent pieces!
5 Female-Directed Horror Films You Must Watch by Lazy Teodora
I Went To SHEIN’s New Store In Paris So You Don’t Have To by Lazy Julie
The President Of Mexico Gets Groped In Public: What Does That Mean For The Rest Of Us? by Lazy Paulina
Is Not Having A Boyfriend A Feminist Act? A Response To The Viral Vogue Essay by Lazy Zsofi
Thanksgiving (Has Always Been) In A Foreign Land by Lazy Gretchen
Illustration by Katalin Fodor Interested to read more? Here are some relevant articles on this month’s theme:
Embracing Sexuality With Shari Klein, Founder Of The Pleasure Society by Máté Verhás
Opinion: The Lazier I Am In Bed, The More Sexually Active I Become by Lazy Sara
Being Seen As The “Sexually Repressed Asian” In The West by Yaska Sahara
November was a very fruitful month for Lazy Women. Let’s recap it!
We launched our brand-new website: It’s finally here! Read this letter from our editor-in-chief Zsofi, and let us know what you think of the new look. Special thanks to our tech Lazy of the team, Frosso!
Lazy Women has been accepted as a member of the European Youth Press Network!
We announced our new project, ‘Making it in Eastern Europe’: In January 2026, Lazy Women starts its new project, Making it in Eastern Europe. It’s a multimedia project that combines long-form stories, interviews, and an interactive map. You’ll be able to follow women’s journeys, connect the dots, and see a network of solutions spreading across the region. Find more information about the project here!
Currently, we’re seeking local correspondents based in, from, or with a strong connection to an Eastern European country, who possess some journalism experience and a distinctive writing voice. Sounds like you? Fill out the expression-of-interest form via this link.
New Podcast Episode of the Lazy Chats is out:
Wanting to feel good in the body you’re in is a very human thing. It’s a reasonable want (hence, needs no explanation), contributes to one’s health, and most of the time very much encouraged.Yet, for most transgender people, this desire is something that’s constantly challenged, and even denied
In the most recent edition of Lazy Chats, Lazy Aleli chatted with Elena and Thysz, two transwomen based in Paris and Metro Manila respectively, about their transition journey. In this intimate conversation, you’ll hear about how these women explore and discover their own identities, the steps that they’ve taken to affirm their gender, and the struggles of being transwomen in today’s society.
And still on the topic - we’ve got a new episode coming soon on Endometriosis and (Good) Sex!
How does condition (that affects 1 of 10 people with uteruses and ovaries, according to the Endometriosis Foundation of America) impact intimate relationships, sexual pleasure, and desire?
Is it possible to have a good sex life if you have painful symptoms caused by endometriosis?
Stay tuned…
P.S. Our newsletter team is fully volunteer-based. We work on every issue throughout the whole month — picking a topic, collecting submissions and illustrations, writing, and editing.
If you like what we do, you can support our work via a paid subscription option on Substack and get access to our Dear Lazies column.
Thank you for talking about this!