Published in SexLife #1, Winter 1996
“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
If you’ve been on the phones, like me, you’ve heard a lot, and even if they sometimes fall into obvious categories, you really don’t have any idea what the next caller will be: a woman who has never had an orgasm, a little boy who wants to know what a blowjob is, an older man who wants to step out of the closet and meet other men, a fetish dresser who wants someplace to buy shoes, someone who wants to learn how to have anal sex, or someone else who wants to know how to find his prostate.
San Francisco Sex Information is where those who don’t know can call to talk to people who do. How do SFSI workers know so much about sex? We’re not thrown onto the phones cold. To be a SFSI volunteer, you have to complete 52 hours of sex training (not handson), including panel discussions on aging and sex, sex and drugs, the law, sex work (I’ve taught that — I’ve written a lot of porn), consent, S/M, homosexuality, bisexuality, heterosexuality, crossdressing and just about everything else out there.
And if we still don’t know the answers, we can usually find the number or address of someone who does. The switchboard room is packed with reference materials and a wonderful computerized reference file of therapists, hot lines, stores, mailorder companies, social clubs, organizations, support groups and much, much more.
This day, today, we start off with a question about VD — or, at least someone who thinks it might be.
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“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
His accent is thick (Asian, Middle Eastern?) and his English isn’t all that great, but I manage to put together a rough picture: “My wife says she is sick. Says she has something wrong with herinfection?”
“A yeast infection?”
Silence for a moment. Consulting. “Yes, that is what she has.” I run down the facts, calmly and slowly, telling him that lots of women get them, that they can be very painful and that she should probably go to the doctor. As I tell him, another of the volunteers has pulled down a book on symptoms and complications for me to refer to. I nod my thanks.
“She has gone to a doctor,” he says, dismissing. “I want to know, did she get from other men? From sleeping with other man?”
We are not doctors or therapists. That’s one thing the Trainers are very clear on. It’s not mainly, as you’d think, because of legal issuesrather we are told that it’s because it’s better to say you don’t know and suggest the caller consult a professional than give them wrong information.
If she had called, we would have told her that her symptoms appeared to match that of a yeast infection but that she should go back to her doctor who could answer more of her questions. But this isn’t really a medical question, in its heart; it’s a question about fear and possessiveness: he’s frightened that his wife has committed adultery (and the disease is the sign).
“From sleeping with other man?” The cultural wall is thick and wellfortified; still, I hope I can make their lives a bit easier: “Lots of women get yeast infections. They can happen all on their ownnot from sleeping with another man.”
We go on like this for a while. His fear and anger at his wife’s supposed adultery and my insistence that a yeast infection is not what you’d normally consider a sexually transmitted condition (though some women can get one from a condom reaction). I finally convince him that his wife (probably) hasn’t been sleeping with other men and he hangs up, relieved.
My shift is on Tuesday evening, 6 to 9 P.M.. Me, two to five other volunteers (rookies just off training and older volunteers who just happened to drop by), and a supervisor, who has watched me with the call to make sure I didn’t pass along inappropriate, insensitive or Just Plain Wrong information. Sometimes, if a call is a rough one, the Supervisor can plug in and listen along. Afterwards it’s common for us all to talk about a call and share our take on the situation, what we should’ve said.
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“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
His voice is rough and slightly hostile. It’s hard to hear him over the staticlaced pay phone: “I have this girlfriend and she’s really good in bed but I really like this guy I met on the way home last night and he was really good, you know, and it was really hot and he_”
“Do you have a question?”
“Well, I really liked what he did, you know when he_” He goes on for quite a while, giving me the playbyplay about his encounter with this other man.
Sometimes we let them run if we figure that they’re just nervous. But if they’re bragging or try to get a rise out of us (for whatever reason) we cut them short.
The road traveled might be different for a lot of the callers (a single homosexual experience, being attracted to another person of the same sex, liking a certain movie star a lot) but the question is always the same: “Am I gay?” he finally gets out.
Some of them are disappointed in the response: “I don’t know. Only you can really answer that. A lot of heterosexual people have homosexual experiences and viceversa. A lot of people call themselves gay and have sex with the opposite sex. The same goes for straight people. You don’t have to be “gay”; you could just like samesex all or some of the time.”
We talk for a few minutes, me trying to tell him that he doesn’t have to label himself or let others do it for him. He is what he wants to be, however he defines it. He really does want to listen, to hear what I have to tell him. After a point he calms down, says he might call again and hangs up.
It’s surprising, though, the number of people who demand negative informationwho are actually disappointed when we don’t back up their fears by telling them they’re gay, sick, perverted: to validate their own crushed egos (“I know I’m a freak, I feel like one!”). They won’t hear that from SFSI, we answer questions, talk, and refer callers to other resources. We try to never pass judgments — we let people say who they are, negative or positive.
Founded in 1972, SFSI is “a nonprofit, free nonjudgmental sexual information and referral service”. At various points we’ve been the only free sex information service out there. We get calls from all across the country and all around the world. The details of the SFSI training are kept a closelyguarded secret, but one of the main points of it is to push the buttons of the trainees and get them to deal with their own prejudices and biased viewpoints before they get on the phones. The one thing we don’t want a phone volunteer saying is “Yech, you’re sick!” to someone.
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“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
The heartwrencher. He is either softly crying or has been crying heavily recently. His voice is two parts fear and one part anger. The cause could be any number of things: It just happened, I thought we were being safe, I didn’t think it was going to happen, the condom broke, I did something and I don’t know if it was safe. The list goes on. The real question, no matter how they frame it, is the same: “Am I infected?”
I take a deep breath. The first order of business with a call like his is to calm him downthen talk. Sometimes, if they don’t ask, we’ll suggest “Would talking to a woman help?” (if the caller is a woman) or “Would talking to a gay man help?” in his case. It doesn’t really matter, because we all receive the same training, but it can make a crisis caller more comfortable, more at ease.
“I hear that you’re upset.”
“Yes, I’m upset. I’m really scared.”
“What can you tell me about being scared?” “I don’t know if I’ve caught it, you know? I don’t know if he’s got it. It was just so quick and I didn’t think about it at the time and now_I’m scared. Do you think I’ve got it?”
The technique is called reflective listeningwe’re trained to use it to help focus or defuse some of the callers. After a few minutes of listening to what he’s saying and bouncing it back to her, he’s calmed down enough and is breathing deeply. It’s always hard, these kinds of calls. I’ve been down that frightening stretch of dark road myself when a condom broke.
I tell her that yes, he is at risk, but from what he says (it was unprotected oral sex) it is a relatively low riskthough not impossible. I reassure him and calm him, soothing her till he can listen. There’s no reason to panic till she knows. I give her the information that oral sex is still debatable, but he’s still bargaining for his life — especially after the new study that suggests that unprotected oral sex may be just as risky as intercourse — so why take a risk on your life?. I tell him that the only way to be sure is have himself and his partner tested as soon as possible to find out their status. Then, after either abstinence or good safe(r) sex for six months, get tested again.
Besides, I remind him, there are other things out there that are sometimes as bad or worse than HIV: the clap (gonorrhea), syphilis, herpes, Hepatitis (which can kill faster than HIV), PID (Pelvis Inflamitory Disease), genital wartsthe list is long and scary.
Afterwards, I’m shaking. Afterwards, I let the other volunteers take some calls while I sit and decompress. Sometimes we get hard calls, scary ones — I was abused, I was raped (those we talk down and try and get them to call the police or a rape crisis line), I was hurt. One of the things SFSI trains us for is a sex-positive attitude, but these kinds of calls remind us that while sex can be beautiful it can also be frightening and dangerous.
By now the night is getting late. Outside, a street I can’t name (because the switchboard is a closely guarded secret) hums with latenight travelers. Next to me one of the phones chirps and I pick it up.
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“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
“How can I get my girlfriend to go down on me?” he says without preamble.
Consent. SFSI is big on consent. In a world that frequently acts without acting, San Francisco Sex Information is a bastion of asking permission, of communication. “Have you talked to her about it?”
“Yeah, but she says she doesn’t like doing it.”
“Does she say what she doesn’t like about it? Does she choke? Doesn’t like the taste?”
“Yeah, she says he chokes on it.”
I take a deep breath. “You can’t get anyone to do anything they don’t want to do, but you can talk to her. Tell her how much you like it and how much it would mean to you. If she is scared or nervous take it real slow and at her pace.”
He listens. I give him that at least. Sometimes the callers, mainly male callers, are angry at not getting their idealized lovers. We try our best to get the information to them about consent, safe(r) sex, and communication: ask, be safe and talk about it. I hope I get some of it across to him and wish him the bestand tell him he might want to have her call us, too.
Meanwhile, one of our female volunteers is having trouble with a caller. I can hear her voice, angry but level, disengaging from the call. I hear only one side of it, but it’s enough to know most of what’s going on: “Do you have a question? If you don’t have a legitimate question I’m going to hang up. If you don’t stop I’m going to hang up. I’m hanging up.”
She clicks him off (and I know it’s a him) and looks at the phone with frustration and disgust.
I take the next few calls, along with the other male volunteers. We get nothing but hangups for about fifteen minutes.
It’s a sad, but realistic, fact of life for any kind of switchboard (suicide, AIDS info, or whatever) that you have those callers. They can get to you sometimes, the angry men, the mentally ill (men and women), the just plain lonely (who just want to talk about sexof any kind) and the selfrighteously religious. But then the phone rings again and it’s someone we can help, someone with a question we can really answer.
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“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
“I have, um, a question …” He sounds young, maybe mid-twenties. His voice, while nervous about calling, is laced with strength — I bet he’s just trying to frame his question, and not paralyzed by calling.
“Sure, that’s what we’re here for. Go ahead”
“I like to, um, ah, wear my girlfriend’s panties ….”
Reflexive listening: “And how does that make you feel?” I say back, getting comfortable — sometimes it can take a while to coax the real question out.
“Good — I mean it turns me on and all.”
For many calls, the bottom line, again, is Am I Normal? One of the things the training teaches us is the myth of normal. We are who we feel we are, how we feel about ourselves — no one is “normal”.
“How do you feel about that?”
“Okay I guess.”
I take a deep breath and start down a familiar road. He could have been calling about any kind of thing: I like to spank my girlfriend or boyfriend (“ — just as long and he or she likes it as well” we’d tell them), I like to masturbate — a lot (“just as long as it doesn’t interfere with your life” we’d ask), “I like to spy on the couple across the street having sex”, (“Do you think they’d like you to? They aren’t consenting to have you watch. Find a couple who want to have you watch — who consent to have you watching”), I like to get tied up (“Here’s some addresses and numbers of where to learn to do it safely”) — but there’s always the hidden, “Am I normal?”
“Lots of people like to dress in another gender’s clothing. Some do it because it feels nice or different, others because it feels nasty and forbidden. Some go as far as to dress completely, from shoes to hair, while others just wear women or men’s underwear. Lots of women as well as men cross-dress. It doesn’t have anything to do with your orientation or preference in sexual partners — many heterosexual men as well as women like to dress like another sex. There’s also a strong tradition of it in the gay men and lesbian communities (drag and doing butch). It’s a perfectly acceptable turn-on for many, many people.” I go on for quite a while, responding to his “uh-huh”s and “okays” to reassure him and let him know that he is just one of a whole global community of people who like to dress in their partner’s underwear — or do full drag. More than anything, though, I tell him that it’s only bad if what he does hurts someone (“How would your girlfriend feel about you wearing her panties? Maybe you should talk to her, or get some girl’s clothes of your own –”), or if he feels bad about it himself.
He clears his throat, and says with a smile in his voice: “Oh she knows. She gives me hers all the time. It’s just that, um, she’s small and I’m big — where can I get some that fit?”
I smile and try to keep from laughing: touché! His voice is strong, this is a fellow with no problems about what he does, he just needs help where he can get some that fit. I dig up a phone book and tell him about large-size ladies shops that wouldn’t mind a guy walking in, and certain dress shops (if he wants some fancy underwear) that cater to cross-dressers. By the time he hangs up we both have smiles in our voices.
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Ring.
“San Francisco Sex Information, can I help you?”
“Um, ah, hello?” She echoes back, shy, embarrassed. She sounds older, maybe in her late to middle 60s, and her voice crackles now and again with fear and embarrassment. It takes a few minutes of casual banter for me to ease out the question: She wants to orgasm.
Carefully, patiently, I explain the groundwork: knowing her body and what pleases her, how to fantasize (and that there is no reason to feel guilty about any fantasy), relaxation, and even some proper devices she might try (lubrication, a vibrator and so on). After a point, I get worried that her nervousness and fear might keep her from relaxing enough to get the info, so I ask if she’d like a female volunteer.
“No, you’re doing just fine. What else should I try?”
It’s an incredible compliment, to have her reach out such a long way to a stranger, to me, and ask such a deceptively simple thing. We talk for many minutes, she telling me that she never felt this way about her body before, never felt the need to really try out her own sexuality. She tells me of her husband and how he used to just roll off and sleep and how she thought that was all there was to it. She remembered masturbating as a child and how good that felt but always thought that kind of thing was for childrenand how she certainly wasn’t that anymore and didn’t know where to even start.
She rambles a bit, but still I’m incredibly touched. When she finally hangs up, it’s with a sense of purpose and release. Yes, she deserves to have a happy sex lifeeven if it is with herself. Yes, there is nothing wrong with masturbation. Yes, this kind of thing isn’t all that rare.
I sit and stare at the phone for a few minutes, thinking about her, somewhere out there, and the fear that had been in her voice when we started and how that fear had slowly ebbed to relief and laughing hope.
You get many kinds of calls on the San Francisco Sex Information switchboard. All kinds. All of them, in one way or another, are important.
And some of them are just plain special.
You can call the SFSI hot line at (415) 989SFSI (7374):
3-9 PM Monday through Wednesday
6-9 PM Thursday
3-6 PM Friday
2-6 PM Saturday
2-5 PM Sunday
San Francisco Sex Information
ask-us@sfsi.org
www.sfsi.org