Choreographing an orgasm
The tactics of an intimacy coordinator, plus some thoughts on the state of things
Our new episode this week is called “Baby Reindeer’s Intimacy Coordinator on Sex and Trauma on Screen.” It’s a conversation with on-set intimacy coordinator Elle McAlpine. She’s a former actor whose job now is to guide the production of sex scenes, helping actors deliver realistic performances and creating clear workplace expectations for all involved.
If you’re a movie and television fan, you will be interested to hear Elle describe her technique on sets like Poor Things and Baby Reindeer. And if you live in a human body, you will be intrigued by the way she describes an orgasm as an explosive opening up, and other times a shuttering pulling in. Listen here.
A Note on the State of Things
Perhaps like many of you, I’ve been consuming more political news and conversations in the last six days than I have in years. Tracking the rush of Supreme Court rulings was already going to be a part-time job this time of year, but then the first presidential debate made me check for gossip and new developments even more compulsively.
All this clicking, though, has me coming up empty. At the end of the day, I may know a little bit more about the maneuvering of campaign officials or breaks from legal precedent, but not more about what I really wanted to know about, which is where we are going to land as this unprecedented campaign season careens down the tracks. Or rather, where we may fly off to as the tracks continue to corrode underneath us.
I long for a broader conversation about the delicate and spikey work of generational transfers of power and how those leaders might better call us in and listen rather than bulldoze us with competing versions of reality.
One piece of writing that did make me feel accompanied this week, though not necessarily better, was published twelve years ago called “In Nothing We Trust.” It was written by Ron Fournier and Sophie Quinton for the National Journal and The Atlantic, and I pulled it up after The New York Times’ Maggie Haberman shared it on social media this week.
The whole piece is worth a read, but these paragraphs stood out to me:
no metrics exist to measure life without institutions, because they’ve been around as long as humankind. The first institution was the first family. The tribe was the first community. The first tribe’s leader was the first politician, and its elders were the first legislature. Its guards, the first police force. Its storyteller, a teacher. Humans are coded to create communities, and communities beget institutions.
What if, in the future, they don’t? People could disconnect, refocus inward, and turn away from their social contract. Already, many are losing trust. If society can’t promise benefits for joining it, its members may no longer feel bound to follow its rules. But is the rise of disillusionment inexorable?
Unfortunately, that rise has been inexorable over the last dozen years. We don’t know who we are to each other right now, and there are so few institutions and platforms where the constant din of chatter connects in a way that enables catharsis. Instead, there are sets of people telling me their version of reality from their distinct corners of political power, other sets of people screaming back on social media, in podcasts, and to pollsters. It’s loud and exhausting and relentless.
It’s a weird state of mind to be in as I prepare to take off to celebrate the Fourth of July with my family. I do hope that wherever you are, you find a pocket where people are managing to gather and pull something off together, even if it’s just a really fun parade or cookout.
Catch a Ride
Some parts of our social contract still hold, though!
We received an email this week from a listener catching up on our recent advice episode, who reached out with a message for “Tom,” who was frustrated with isolation and poor transportation options after doctors advised him to stop driving.
I have a piece of advice to pass along to Tom, the man who can no longer drive.
I'm a paratransit bus driver. I drive a short bus (shuttle bus) for my local city bus company. They are required by the ADA to have transportation available for disabled people, and our funding is mostly federal. I drive people door-to-door, to doctor appointments their jobs and bowling alleys and their friends' houses and restaurants and movie theaters and parks, wherever they want to go. Sometimes, it's not obvious to me why a passenger qualifies for our service, but it's truly none of my business - we have lots of folks with seizure disorders, mental health conditions, and invisible disabilities. It costs the same as an adult fare on a route bus: $2.50. Signing up for this service is not taking anything away from anyone, we are funded according to need (I get this reaction a lot - "what if someone else needs it more?"). Until I started working here, I had no idea this existed, even though I'm invisibly disabled myself.
I hope Tom eventually settles into his new life with his new body, even though it doesn't do everything he's used to anymore. But there are transportation services available for disabled people that are not a ten-minute $60 Uber ride or only for doctor appointments and I hope he looks into it. Of course I don't know what the transit services in his area are like (I'm in Washington), but I do know that serving the disabled community is a federal requirement and hope he's able to find some new freedom.
–Logan, 27, Snohomish, WA
Let me remind you that July is Disability Pride Month. Here are a few episodes from our archive about living with disabilities and loving disabled people.
For an upcoming episode of Death, Sex & Money, we’re still collecting stories from paid caregivers about the relationships they’ve forged and the workplace dynamics they’ve noticed. If you have one to share -– about doing this work yourself, or having to hire one for yourself — record a voice memo and send it to us at deathsexmoney@slate.com.
Until next week,
Anna
P.S. I just finished this novel by Roxana Robinson, and as The New York Times review suggested, I found the ending to be an “eminently discussable” bombshell.
The problem is, I read this by myself and not with a book club! If you too have read this gem of a read, reply to this email and send me your thoughts on the ending so we can discuss!
This newsletter is free to you. To support me and the Death, Sex & Money team, please become a member of Slate Plus. You’ll get bonus episodes and ad-free listening to our show and all other Slate podcasts. Sign up for Slate Plus here, or if you listen in Apple Podcasts, click “Try Free” at the top of our show page.
Listen to our latest Death, Sex & Money episodes
7/2. Baby Reindeer’s Intimacy Coordinator on Sex and Trauma on Screen
6/25 Kara Swisher and Orna Guralnik on How To Get People Talking
6/18 Mark Duplass on Making Money, Mental Health and Midlife
6/11 My Shy Bladder
6/4 I Was Afraid of Losing Myself to Motherhood. I Found Myself Instead.
5/28 Why You’re Not Having Sex
5/21 The Night Magic Mushrooms and Jam Bands Helped Me Walk Again