Hysterical Victorian women may have been prescribed the vibrator, but sometimes skin is better. Here I was spending thousands on therapy- trauma shmauma- when the truth is I am never unhappy with a dick in my mouth. And that is neither a metaphor, nor a political statement. I come to serve. Semper Fi.
Why is getting laid, like childcare, considered a luxury? The two are related; get more of one, if you have enough of the other, whether single, married, or anywhere in between. Sex is like food or water or shelter, an absolutely necessary part of life, and yet so few, male or female, seem to understand that. How many approach it with hang-ups and problems and unnecessary complication? I’m a chick- I understand becoming attached, but what I don’t get is the sexual shame. Work through it, bury it or let it go. Why drag it around like a corpse for half a century? It was never yours to begin with- why mind it for someone who may not even be alive anymore?
Look, I have issues. Abandonment, attachment, mood; I have to manage this shit like it’s the red button that starts a nuclear war, because it can. Even though sex itself is one of my few non-issues, I have to be judicious about when I press the button, because of the other three. Which is why I don’t press it that much. You would be flabbergasted at how little I get laid (I know I am.) It’s almost a joke- I choose to have less sex now than when I was married. Oh the crushing irony, escaping the confines of marriage for… What? Nothing, it turns out. Absolutely nothing. Except.
When in the throes of passion (or is that throws? I do so love a man who throws me around) I forget everything. I am entirely in my body enjoying that person’s body. Our energies are mingling (another reason to be careful with the button) and it’s so fucking beautiful. If you can find someone genuinely capable of a certain kind of emotional intimacy during sex, it’s magical. It has to do with being able to abandon yourself with someone you might barely know chronologically, but energetically you get each other. Also staying with yourself, being aware of all the pleasure you can give and receive, all the ways in which our bodies were designed to fit and co-mingle and express themselves with nothing but universal love.
We all make so many mistakes in life, sometimes I feel mine are irredeemable. Like no one will ever love me again, or understand me, or show up for me on any kind of consistent basis. Between the sheets I am “seen” (open your eyes, buddy, I’m right here.) Also I show up for me at all times, and I do not waiver in support of myself, even when I am not a fan of what I have done. No one should be denied the opportunity to repent and/or seek their own forgiveness. When I make a good positive choice that is pro-pleasure, it feels like the right kind of pro-life. I am pro-my-life, and included in that, I am pro-yours.