Is calling something epic from the start the best way to set oneself up for success? God(dess) <---*hehehe... this is the kind of shit that comes out when I write late at night* only knows... I mean, there's that whole "self fulfilling prophecy" thing, but there's also a lot of "living a life without expectation is the way to live" stuff going on in my life lately. Where is the balance? Too bad we can’t explore that this evening because I promised you we were going to talk about sex tonight, so that is what we will do. My mom asked me to warn her to stay away from this post, but honestly I’m not sure there’s going to be any NSFM (not suitable for mom) material in this. I’m not going to describe my sex life in detail… and I could say that’s because it’s not just mine, it’s someone else’s too… but really even if it were just mine I still think I would maintain some privacy. I don’t have a very high need for privacy, as you all already know… but I guess this is a place where I do. Okay, more talking about it and less talking about not talking about it. Again, this topic (“get sexy”) made the FULLfillment project because I knew I wanted/needed to address it… it also came very late in the FULLfillment project because it scared the crap out of me! Sexy isn’t something I ever considered myself and I wasn’t sure I wanted to either. Thing is, somewhere between designing the project and now… I found my sexuality… and I don’t mean my “I like lady parts and not boy parts” sexuality (that was this post)… I mean my sexual self (which includes but is not limited to the aforementioned quoted statement).
This month isn’t feeling as challenging as I expected it would be when it was conceived, except for deciding what to write about and whether it’s mom safe, but we’re not going back there right now… let’s go even further back in time instead:
It’s the early-mid 90’s and I’m pubescent. My mother gives me a book all about sex, sexuality, sexual health… etc. The main message (that I took) from the book: masturbation is okay… good even. The main down side to the book: there were no instructions. Okay… I get it… masturbation is okay. Now how do I do it?
I actually didn’t figure it out for a few more years. I spent some time trying to experience pleasure by penetrating myself with crayola markers and even electric toothbrushes (personal massager, anyone?) but it wasn’t particularly effective and I don’t have the greatest stick-to-it-iv-ness. It wasn’t until my first boyfriend put his hand down my pants that I discovered the clitoris… and that was all I needed to know (apparently for a good long time… after which it turns out it was still all I needed to know).
|here are a couple of photos of me
with my finger stuck in a dildo
In high school, I took pride in the fact that my saxophone playing ambature made it easy for me to keep the corners of my lips tight for a long lasting blow job (okay, maybe my mom shouldn’t be reading this…) and that when a later boyfriend had an orgasm from a hand job his ejaculate (apparently I’m going to make this feel better by using very technical language) used to hit the wall behind his head (I believed this had something to do with my mad penis handling skills…). The first time I saw a man (let’s be real: boy) achieve climax I realized what a horrible disservice I was doing to the first boyfriend who helped me find my pleasure button because nothing we ever did resulted in any kind of ending for him (I’m so sorry! I had no idea!).
I lost my virginity at the latter end of my 16th year after ditching school for the day, eating delivered pizza while watching “airplane.” I don’t remember a whole lot about it… it wasn’t super painful or super pleasant. We definitely got better at it as time went on.
|you know… just for kicks|
Plugging along I had sex with teenage boys (when I was a teenage girl and it was legalish) and men later… It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t that good either. After the initial rush of new relationship wore off and if not for the desire to feel wanted I didn’t have much interest in sex. I invented a “virginity score” system in college (to keep it interesting?) wherein a person gained a point for having sex with a virgin and lost a point for having sex with a non-virgin. I developed (I think my advantage in the game existed before the game itself rather than the game being a motivator) a taste for virgins and had a great score running for a while there…
When I look back on my sex-capades with boys/men I have the overwhelming feeling that it didn’t matter that it was me most of the time. That the goal, for the male, was to stick it in, after which point I could have been any hole really… I don’t believe this is a judgment against their lovemaking skills (at least I don’t mean it to be)–I’m pretty sure it has a lot more to do with my interest in their equipment (and them in general) or lack thereof, but who knows really… I’m not sure I can claim that I knew how to pick ’em.
First time I separated from BFO I thought I should probably try and date women… I hadn’t ever and it seemed like something everyone should do at least once, but I didn’t get around to it. After the final separation, it occurred to me again and before I knew it I was falling in love with a new female friend. Our relationship ended up with a 4 hour make-out session followed by a 90 day lapse in contact during which I met Devon and the rest is history…
Cue discovering of sexuality. Because, yeah… I had already discovered that I was sexually/emotionally attracted to women but I still didn’t know what sexy was. I had only been comfortable with that word (s-e-x-y) a few years before. Prior to that it would never have come out of my mouth. So, I was having all of these experiences of enjoying things/experiences/qualities, being drawn to/attracted to things/experiences/qualities… but I never saw them as sexy until someone who was undeniably sexy gave them that description (but she spells it with two Xs, because that’s her thing…).
- list making–sexy (not a coincidence that this is a list… she reads this blog and i know my audience)
- color coding–sexy.
- making art–sexy.
- whipping up a Robin costume to compliment Spiderman’s “Batman” in an afternoon–super sexy (just in case you didn’t catch that… that means: being a fun mom–sexy).
- the list goes on…
On one of our first dates we had a lengthy conversation about our favorite office supplies which was quite titalating…
apparently we aren’t the only ones who find organization alluring…
And suddenly, I’m experiencing life through a different lens. I’m in a relationship where the dynamic allows for conversation about what’s sexy… and it can be anything. And it turns out… I have a really fucking sexy life, and a lot of it has absolutely nothing to do with sex and way more to do with me (and her) and who I am (we are). And, in case it isn’t clear, none of this is new… these aren’t things I do on purpose to be or feel sexy… this is just me… and me appreciating me and me appreciating being appreciated by someone else (did you follow that last part?)
Now my sex life isn’t driven by the goal of “sticking it in.” It seems incredibly personal and specific to me… to us… and I can’t believe I ever did it any other way.
I don’t think I need to “get sexy” anymore. I am sexy… I just needed to realize that and now that I have I just need to remain open to finding out more about what that means.