Photo: Mo Phung

An average day for married couple Jeremie Saunders and Bryde MacLean might include dates with their respective partners, an interview with a camgirl, or conversations about orgasm scavenger hunts. Nothing’s off the table for the Halifax-based co-hosts of the Turn Me On podcast, a series on sex, in all its fun and messy forms.

In the two years since its inception, Turn Me On has tackled sex toys, porn, fan fiction, threesomes, kinks and a swath of other topics with “intelligence, humour and… a little pillow talk”—as its tagline proudly proclaims.

“We’re talking about something that, for the most part, everyone does or everyone has an experience with or everyone thinks about,” Saunders says. “None of us would be here if it wasn’t for this one thing yet, for whatever reason, it’s just drowning in taboo.” For MacLean, the show is “really about how we talk about sex as much as about the sex that we’re having.” To deepen those conversations, the hosts call on guests, such as Jenny Yuen, author of Polyamorous: Living and Loving More, Maryanne Fisher PhD, a psychology professor with expertise in female intrasexual competition, and Russell Louder, a trans, non- binary musician and performance artist.

Saunders and MacLean share the details of their own sexual adventures (and misadventures), too, discussing the sometimes-tricky dynamics of their open marriage. Many listeners have told the couple they were rst drawn to the podcast by this intimate element, as non-monogamy moves into the mainstream. Still, Turn Me On doesn’t take itself too seriously, and runs episodes with titles ranging from “Cum On The Couch,” to “What’s A Gold Star Lesbian?” to “Can Robots Have STDs?”

“We’ve covered so much, but there’s still so much work to be done and so many people to find to talk to,” MacLean says. Loyal listeners have encouraged the pair to go beyond the studio, so earlier this year they took the unconventional and honest sex-ed podcast to live venues across Eastern Canada, which they felt took episodes to a new level. MacLean says:

“When we record at home we always have the option to edit things out, but on a live show, once it’s out someone’s mouth, it’s out there. The stakes are higher too, when it’s live, and my impulse to share and be honest is even stronger: The audience can see you and people are intuitive, so they can tell if you’re holding something back.”

Vulnerability, is an essential tenet of the podcast. For Saunders, who lives with cystic fibrosis—a chronic and fatal lung disease—it’s part of a greater pursuit to bring the conversations around disability, illness and sex out from behind closed doors. The effort complements his work on Sickboy, an acclaimed podcast about illness and disease, which he hosts with his two best friends.

“It was always a question that I found really fascinating: You live with this illness that affects you in several ways. How does it affect your relationships? How does it affect your sex life?” Saunders says. That desire for honest, shame-free dialogue comes through in Turn Me On, when he speaks with guests who have a physical disabilities, mental illness or bodies deemed out of the ordinary. Saunders says people get “weird and sort of uncomfortable going into that territory,” and that he hopes to shift perspectives by asking those important questions.

At TEDxToronto 2017—nine months after launching Turn Me On—Saunders presented the keynote address: “Embracing your expiry date.” He shared how his illness forced him to accept his own mortality and live without fear, particularly in his career and relationships. He and MacLean hope to inspire listeners to seek out that kind of intimacy and honesty with themselves and others.

And beyond sex, Turn Me On offers those tuning in an opportunity to feel less alone in their unique ways of being and desires, MacLean says. “I think that really motivates me to keep doing what we’re doing, because loneliness just keeps us trapped— we’re not evolving if we’re not relating.”

His hand slid underneath my sweater, then rested on my bare waist. We locked eyes and my breath caught. I was leaning up against the wall in the narrow hallway of my one-bedroom apartment. He was so close, with his other hand against the wall beside my head. Both my palms were pressed firmly against the wall by my hips. He leaned in to kiss me.
“Wait,” I said.
He pulled back, puzzled.
“I really like you,” I continued. “Really like you. But if we’re going to continue, I’m going to need you to take a test for me.”

He dropped both his hands and stepped back. My entire body ached. What did I just do? Then he leaned in again, kissed my cheek, and walked out the door. He knew what this was about. I was agitated. But it had to be done. The sex can wait, I thought.

Less than two years before I met this man, I had been engaged. I met my ex when I was 17 and he was 21. I brought him home early in the relationship,to a joint birthday celebration for my mother and me. He brought her flowers and a card, and when he left, she called me into her room.

“Do you love him?” she asked.

“What?” I replied. “We just started dating.”

“If you don’t love him, leave,” she said. “He lies. Without compunction.”

My mother is a certified document examiner. Lawyers hire her to determine forgeries in court cases. As part of her training, she took courses in graphoanalysis. By reading someone’s handwriting, she could tell a hell of a lot about their character. She was holding the birthday card he’d given her. It was disconcerting.

But what 18-year-old woman listens to her mother where love is concerned? I stayed with him for six years, we got engaged, and months before the wedding date I finally admitted to myself my mother had been right. Until then I’d looked the other way as he manipulated me and lied repeatedly. He drove a wedge between me and most of my friends and my family, leaving me with few places to turn.

When I left him, I cursed myself for not having listened to my mother. I could have saved six years of my life. The handwriting never lies. Which brings us back to the hallway of my apartment, the new guy, and our almost- sex scene. I was sorry he left, but the test was a non-negotiable for me.

A few nights later, I dropped by his apartment on my way home from work.

“Have you thought about what I said?” I asked.

“I have. I’m just not sure,” he replied. “It’s strange. Do I want a woman I’ve never met to know so much about me?”

I smiled and pushed him further into his apartment. His roommates were out, and he had a desk tucked into the corner of the living room.

“Why don’t you go grab a pen and paper, then sit down and let me convince you?” I said.

As soon as he sat down, I walked over to him, dropped to my knees, then looked up and smiled.

“Why don’t you write a few lines?” I said, reaching for his zipper.

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, and started to write.

I saw my mother a few days later and triumphantly handed her the illicitly procured sample.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I met someone. I really like him, and we’ve been seeing each other for a while. But before I let it become anything serious, I told him he had to let you analyze his writing. This time, I’m going to listen to you, Mom.”

She took the sheet of paper with a smile, but then when she looked at it, her face fell.

“What is it?” I asked.

“He’s depressed,” she said. “And you don’t need that right now.”

Depressed? I thought. Man, I gotta work on my technique.

“Depressed?” I said. “What are you talking about? He is not depressed.” She turned the paper around and pointed. Part of the deal with the handwriting sample is that it must be in cursive and written on unlined paper. My mother was pointing to the tail end of each sentence, how it sloped abruptly downward.

“That’s not a good sign,” she said.
I closed my eyes and bit my lip. Then I looked down at the ground to compose myself. Yes, I was a 24-year-old woman, but I was not about to tell my mother that he had been distracted by what was going on under the desk.

Dear Anonymous Crowdfunders,

Until the sign vanished from our front lawn last May, I use to have “spiritual exercises of the week” there, which some of you saw on your daily commute—timely calls to action, such as: “Black History is our history. Take time to learn a new story”; or “Hold someone who grieves this Mother’s Day.”

As a minister that was my way of caring for the spiritual needs of people who might never step through our church doors, like the gay atheist couple across the street who told us they meditated to the sign messages. Our neighbourhood isn’t immune from prejudice. Just last year a letter filled with anti-Islam rhetoric and graphic images was popped into everyone’s mailboxes. Knowing our church makes people feel safer is important to me. Our sign rental company used to post the notes I crafted onto our sign. Last May, I asked for: “Wish your Muslim neighbours a Ramadan Mubarak!” The owner refused, saying it was against his faith to encourage Islamic practices. The next month I asked for: “Celebrate God’s LGBTQ2 diversity with Pride.” Again, he took issue. I told him I wasn’t looking to change his beliefs—though I disagreed with them—but I was asking him not to censor mine. Then I suggested we try mediation.

I heard nothing back for the next few weeks, then within 24 hours of me requesting a notice about our Pride Sunday worship service, our sign just disappeared. My heart sank. An email arrived later, saying he’d removed the sign, because it infringed on city bylaws, and he didn’t want us to face fines. I asked if we could move it to a location in compliance. No reply. My faith says we have to put love into action, not just words. To do nothing next would have felt like being complicit in an act of hate. With the endorsement of my church, I led a human rights complaint against the sign company.

After the media picked up our story, some people wrote us hate mail. Some yelled down the phone. But many of you got in touch to thank us for taking a stand. One supporter said, “What struck me about your church of 35-40 people on a Sunday was that you were not powerbrokers in the city. You were risking purely for the sake of solidarity. It […] made me want to do more and be more because if you can, I can too.” Marina Dempster, who used to Instagram our sign messages, said the sign gave her “a sense of belonging to a shared consciousness which expressed kindness, encouragement, and inclusion.” Many of you said you wanted your spiritual exercises back!

Then, two of you, Maggie Knauss and Kate Manson, surprised us by starting a crowdfunding campaign, determined to never again let our messages of love be silenced. Donations from $5 to $500 have been coming in through the Canadahelps.org page, and we’re now half way to buying our own sign and to never again having to rent one and debate inclusive messages of love.

Our country has seen an increase in hate speech, divisive politics, and racially motivated acts. We’ve seen family men murdered in their Mosque, Jewish teens assaulted on their way home from school, and politicians using homophobic rhetoric. Your actions helped counter my fear for our most vulnerable community members.

For years, I crafted messages for you, hoping they’d make a difference. Little did I know that one day your messages would change me. You’ve reminded me there are no small acts when it comes to standing with your neighbour, and Canadians are still prepared to rally in the name of love.

With love,
Alexa Gilmour,
Minister at Windermere United Church, Toronto