In another life, I would have been a concubine who had nothing to do but think of ways to sexually satisfy her master. In another life, I would have been a geisha, taught seventy-six ways to please a man without even touching him. In another life, I would have been the last wife, the one who was strictly there for pleasuring her husband in his dotage. In another life, I would have been a courtesan who had all the time in the world to be witty, sexy, scintillating, and above all, nurturing.
See, in this life, I have had the equivalent training, and, quite frankly, I’m damn good at it. I am witty and charming and sexual, and I know how to focus my attention on someone to make him feel like he’s the only person in the world. I am a good listener, and I like listening to people–which is an added bonus.
I’ve always been the anomaly–the freak. I’m the girl you don’t take home to mother. And, quite frankly, I can understand why. Let’s face it–I’m not really ‘meet the mother’ material. I’m the good-time girl, not the ‘until death or divorce do we part’ kind of gal.
I have only broken up with one partner in my life–the first one. After that, I got dumped by every person I dated–and even some I was just fucking. Now, to be fair, I was pretty messed up in my twenties, so I only went for people who wouldn’t commit to me. I thought I didn’t deserve to be in a relationship, so I picked people who only reinforced my negative belief. Then, once I got dumped, I could nod my head grimly and say, “See, I was right. I am unlovable.”
Of course, much of this was because I had my own ambivalence about whether or not I wanted to be in a committed relationship. Over the years, my ideas about monogamy, nonmonogamy, sex as love, sex as sex, morality and lack thereof have fluctuated wildly. The idea of being with one person and only one person for the rest of my life felt uncomfortably restrictive to me. Plus, given what I’ve seen of my mother’s relationship with my father, it’s no wonder that I thought marriage was a crock of shit. No way I was gonna be a doormat the way my mom was. Better not to be in a relationship at all than to be that.
Except, it’s not that easy to escape the examples of my elders. I wrote about how to make the perfect sex doll in this post. I followed it up with another post explaining how my training went deeper than that.
As I shed my depression and start feeling more, I realize that I do want to try dating and being in a relationship. This pisses me off because it is not one of my priorities. In fact, it’s not on my list of top seventeen things I must do with my life right now. However, as my therapist pointed out, “Maybe it’s a different kind of priority.” I retorted, “Yeah, one that I didn’t make.”
You know what? It pisses me off for another reason. As much as I am working on changing my negative traits and becoming a…not better person, but healthier person I guess, I just don’t see the possibility of that happening. Why? Let me count the ways.
One, I have absolutely no desire for the normal aspirations in life. I don’t want to marry and have kids (thankfully as my ovaries are drying up as we talk). I don’t want to do neighborhood block parties, unless they start after midnight, involve nude dancing on the streets, and don’t end until the wee hours of the morning. I am not strictly monogamous, but I am not completely nonmonogamous, either.
Now, I am am going to let down my hair and be totally honest. I don’t trust men to tell me the truth about their sexual needs. Why? Because in general, I have found that many men talk a good game, but few actually follow through with good actions. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard from a guy, “Oh, I want sex all the time” only to find out that all the time meant once a week or twice at the most. I have asked male friends why the discrepancy, but most are at a loss to explain it. I have come up with the following theory:
Men are taught to one-up each other in their friendships. They are also taught that they should want sex all the time, so they talk about it. A bunch of guys together will talk about how they would bang that ass or get with that chick if they had the chance (I have been privy to these convos after many many many drinks) with each man agreeing how much sex he would have if only this, that, or the other thing. So, when they talk to me about sex, they use the same hyperbole in explaining how much they love sex. They are preening their tail feathers, as it were.
My other theory is this: Men are also conditioned to believe that women don’t want sex as much as they do. And, in fact, they might have had girlfriends that didn’t want sex as much as they did. So, therefore, they were never tested with the ‘I want sex all the time’ theory. So, they have the faulty assumption that either one, I’m overestimating my sex drive when I talk about it, or they are comparing my ‘a lot’ to the ‘a lot’ of other women they’ve dated.
Whichever it is, it’s frustrating. I have spent many years honing my beliefs about sex and such, discarding much of what has been touted as fact. I was raised Christian with the whole ‘sex is evil, dirty, sinful, and gross, until you get married–when it’s beautiful, loving, sacred, and a tribute to God’ bullshit. It took me a long time to shed that thought–even while in the midst of enjoying teh hawt sex.
At the same time, I was taught that it was a girl’s job to please the boy who had out-of-control sexual urges. To that end, I let my first boyfriend go much further than I wanted because I didn’t know how to say no.
It took a lot of experimenting and soul-searching before I finally came up with a semi-coherent belief about my sexuality. Here it is. I am a hedonist. I try to be an ethical one, but my ethics are different than the mainstream definition. When I say I want sex all the time, I mean all the fucking time. As Choolie once said, I could have sex twice a day and still want to masturbate afterwards.
This is not hyperbole. Ok. Maybe a little. However, I could easily have sex once a day if it were readily available. I have been as honest about this as I can. I know my fetishes, what I like and don’t. I am excruciatingly clear about this info before I sleep with someone because I think it’s important to get these things out in the open.
So, imagine my disappointment that I have very rarely had a partner who can keep up with me. Now, if someone said to me, “I am pretty vanilla. I like the basic positions, and I am fine with sex once or twice a week,” I would have no problems with that. I most likely would not fuck said person, but I wouldn’t have any hard feelings about it. When someone tells me he wants sex all the time and is wild in bed and then turns out to like three positions twice a week, well, that’s when I get irritated. I find that most of my past partners are guilty of false advertising, so it makes me wary for the future.
This segues nicely into another area. For anyone who has read this blog, it’s abundantly clear that I have no problems with talking about sex. I started being more open about sex when I realized how repressed our society is in general, especially when it comes to women and sex. When I started my blog, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to censor my sexuality, in part because women have had to do that for so long. I knew it was a calculated risk because there are still many people who view a woman with lusty appetites as a slut, and not in a good way. I thought, though, that there were more people who did not believe that than did, but sadly, I think I had too much faith in our society.
It’s still steeped in our culture that if a woman enjoys sex, she’s a slut or a brazen hussy. Now, while I actually like the phrase brazen hussy (I think it’s funny), I know most people don’t have such warm associations with it. Men can have all the sex they want, and they are simply envied. Women, on the other hand, still suffer from the whole fucking madonna/whore syndrome.
I know when I talk about sex openly, there is a large segment of the population that is going to judge me negatively. I also know that for some men, the fact that I am so open about sex means that they don’t have to treat me respectfully, thus relegating me to brazen hussy category once again. I’m obviously not a ‘good girl’, so there’s no reason to be courteous to me.
I think another problem is that I am intimidating for some reason. I don’t get it. Men say they want a woman who wants sex all the time and is wild in bed. However, I think they mean they want a woman who wants sex just a little less than they do and is not quite as wild in bed as they are. Why? Because it makes them insecure if they can’t keep up. Even when I make it abundantly clear that it doesn’t bother me (and it really doesn’t. Just because I can have sex all the time doesn’t mean I need to have sex all the time. Like I said, it’s more about honesty and communication). I do not have the vagina dentate that will gobble up men alive. The pussy that ate mankind!
Here’s another thing: I am a freak. I have made my peace with this at last, but it’s another reason I don’t think I’m girlfriend material. Most guys want to be visitors to FreakTown, but they aren’t in it for the long haul. They want to be titillated and take a walk on the exotic side, but they don’t want to live with the reality of a freak on a day-to-day basis. I’m not so sure I blame them as I get pretty sick of my shit, but it doesn’t make me very optimistic that I will find someone who is compatible with me. I’m the flavor of the month, the one they’ve never tried before. I have been the anomaly one too many times in my life to believe that an anomaly can ever be normal.
So, I am of two minds with this whole issue. One, I am seriously contemplating curtailing the sexual openness that I have displayed thus far. Let’s face it: Society is nowhere near the place I am on this subject, and I’m just pretty much fucking tired of trying to walk the line between being whorish and being sexually liberated. There are still way too many fucking guys who devalue a woman who is so open–they still want the chase and the illusion that they were the one special enough to get a woman to be so sexual. As I said to my best friend, men don’t want to fuck me unless I pretend I don’t want to fuck them? Is that how it works? She said, “Psychology is your field, so you can use reverse psychology on them.” I retorted: “I may fuck such a guy, but I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with him.”
Still, I’ve gotten burn too many times for being so open about my sexuality. I think it might be time to rein it in.
Second thought, and this goes back to the first few paragraphs, I think I may just have to stick with being a concubine because my freakiness is a bonus in that situation and not a negative. I may have to give up the idea that I can find someone who will be compatible with me in a romantic way; I just don’t have much faith that there is such a creature out there.
P.S. The original Super Freak video by Rick James. It’s hilarious.
P.P.S The Crazy Bitch video by Buckcherry. It’s also funny.