As you may know, I like to talk about sex. I like to joke about it, and I certainly like to do it. I blog about it; I make innuendos about it; in general, I’m pretty much out there with it. My FB wall is known as the smut wall, and people feel safe to post pretty much anything about sex on it. Once, I had written as my status that I had given into temptation. I went out to buy chocolate, and when I returned, there were many comments, increasingly ribald in nature, discussing exactly what to what temptation I had given. It was fucking hilarious.
I grew up in a Christian household with many secrets and lies. As I was told that sex was an evil, sinful, dirty thing–until you got married when it became beautiful and holy and all that–I was also being sexually molested by my father. As I have said before, I do not know for certain that it happened, but I am pretty sure it did. At the very least, there was emotional incest going on. At the very worst, actual physical penetration. In addition, it was a poorly-kept family secret that my father had affairs with the women of our church. I always knew which woman was his special lady and when she was replaced by someone else. So, hypocrisy would be the word in my household when I was a child. In addition, I remember stumbling over my father’s stash of porn mags (magazines, so quaint!) and realizing that he wasn’t as upstanding as he pretended to be. Do as I say and not as I do, indeed. Granted, he was married, so that meant that sex was OK, I guess, but still, the porn stash was at direct odds with what the church preached every Sunday.
As I got older, I became disillusioned with the church. Granted, I never really believed, but I at least gave lip service to being a Christian. Once I stopped calling myself a Christian, however, it made it difficult for me to talk to the relatives on my mother’s side. They are all devout Christians. One of my cousins said to me, seriously, that he decided not to kiss a woman before marriage because kissing led to sex. And, he said that sex outside marriage was a sin. I said, “So, if I never get married, then I can’t ever have sex?” He said, “Yes.” Of course, this is the same cousin who proposed to his wife a few months after starting to date her and who now has four kids (she’s a practicing Catholic).
I was turned off by the church’s position on sex. It seemed about control and negation and shaming of something that, quite frankly, is one of the few real pleasures in life.
In addition, I hate the puritanical streak that runs through our country. We are not supposed to talk about sex at all because impressionable young-uns are listening. But, we can use boobs to sell beer. That’s perfectly all right. Sorry. Tangent issue, but also a pet peeve of mine. People are uncomfortable with women discreetly breastfeeding in public, but are perfectly fine with boobs being used to sell everything from cars to the aforementioned beer.
In college, I became aware of all the things that are not supposed to be mentioned. A friend and I were walking across campus, and I said in a normal tone, “I have my period, so I’m extra-bitchy today.” She quickly hushed me and looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Apparently, I had made a faux pas by mentioning my period in public. I said to her, “Almost every woman on earth has had, will have, is having her period as I speak. It’s a natural thing. Why do I have to act like it’s shameful?”
Now, I understand the need for discretion in certain places. Like, I would not talk about having my period in a business meeting. That’s not appropriate. However, making a casual comment about it as I cross campus didn’t seem like a big deal to me. It still doesn’t.
I think the reason I started talking about sex so much was in reaction to my upbringing as well as to how taboo it still seems to be at times–in this country, at least. Like I said, we can use sex to titillate and sell things, but we can’t actually talk about sex itself. That seemed like a shame to me, so I set about to change that. Besides, it’s an interesting topic about which I can endlessly speculate, so why not, right?
So I have become known as the Sex Whisperer. OK, not really, but you know what I mean. I can make an innuendo even when I’m half asleep. I can see the sexual angle even when it seems as if there is no angle to be found. As I said, I know when to rein it in. I don’t talk about sex, ever, in front of my brother’s family. When I’m in the office, I’m friendly, but not flirty. I can spice up a conversation pretty damn fast, I must say, and I’m happy to do it.
However, I am starting to wonder if my sexual badinage is slowly becoming another crutch for me. I mean, I use it to shield and deflect and to entertain. In other words, I am wondering if I’m letting it take over my personality to an unhealthy extent. I have thought of this from time to time, but I have really honed in on it lately for a few reasons. One, I put pressure on myself to come up with witty sexual banter on FB because that’s the persona I’ve created on there. I don’t want to let people down, as it were, but I also know that I step over the line sometimes (sorry, Iratwo!). I have no qualms about writing smut on my wall (because it’s my fucking wall, innit?), but I need to stop and think before posting things on other people’s walls.
In addition, I just got called out on BJ by a guy who was mad at me for drooling over the president. Other people had my back, and I think he was out of line for what he said (because, really, any blog that has men drooling over Palin, saying they’d like to bang her, should be able to handle women talking about wanting to do the prez), but there is a salient point that I need to address. By talking about sex so much, am I doing myself a disservice?
I am more than just a sexual being. I am more than what I have to offer sexually. However, let’s face it, once I start talking about sex, all the other stuff just falls by the wayside. Back to BJ. For the most part, I was talking about how marvelous it was that Obama was smacking down the idiot Republicans, including the deeply-stupid Mike Pence (who just might be the highest ranking member in stupidity in all of Congress. It would be irresponsible not to speculate) and how it was nice to have an adult in charge. I went on to say while I may not agree with everything Obama has done so far (and I don’t), I couldn’t think of another politician who could have done as good a job as he has done in this reality. This was spread over three threads, and I mentioned once in each thread that smart, geeky guys like Obama are hot. OK, I did say that I would have his babies in another thread, but still. Ninety percent of what I said had to do with substance. But, this longtime commenter decided to call me out on the one statement about Obama being hot because he was smart and geeky.
There’s a part of me that says it’s how a man who is uncomfortable with a sexual woman smacks her down for being too lusty. I mean, the guys on this blog will go on and on about doing Bachmann or Palin or Malkin, but let the ladies and I discuss whom on Obama’s team we would do, and they get all squeamish. I mean, it’s a great way to shut someone up–telling them to stop with the sexual shit. Most women, including me, feel some sort of complex insecurity about their sexuality (it’s like calling a woman fat. Nothing will freak out most women more quickly than saying innocently, “Have you gained weight?”), so it stopped me in my tracks to read that comment. Just as it did when someone said thatwasn’t really a woman (in a much earlier thread at BJ).
Still, I have to own up that there was some validity in his remark. I do talk about sex a lot, and I do make innuendos or talk about how this or that person is hot. It was one person on BJ telling me to STFU, but there are surely others who are uncomfortable with the way I talk.
I’m not explaining this right. I’m not saying I should STFU because I will offend other people’s delicate sensibilities, but I am wondering if for my sake, I should tone down the sexual talk. I don’t always have to make the sexual joke or the sexual innuendo. I don’t always have to talk about finding so-and-so hot. I can keep some of that to myself.