Tag Archives: sensuality

Owning our desires

Sophia’s long, thick brown hair, olive skin and wide sensual mouth are set off by the most amazing light green eyes, and the effect is electric. With her tall and slim five-foot-eight frame, men and women are instantly attracted to her. We’ve been at breakfast when men stopped by our table, or phone numbers were delivered.

What a burden.

She never told me when she was first sexually abused, certainly before she was 15. She “always looked older” than her years, and barely finished high school as her beauty became the defining element of her world.

Becoming of legal age, but naive, she was offered a world that was glamourous but came with hidden agendas. In her early 30’s now, she refers to a period “about ten years ago” when she led a life on the edge, riding her beauty for cocaine, Cristal Champagne, jets, Vail and Chicago. She has the thin arms and legs of a runway model, with cheekbones to match, but also these large, grapefruit-round breasts attached to her chest, the gift of a man who liked that sort of thing.

Some of her friends from back then still live in trendy neighborhoods, rent paid. For some reason, internal compass or sobering event, Sophia moved to a small flat in the suburbs and “left that behind.” Now her worry is memorizing 30 medical terms by Wednesday in the effort to be a dental hygienist.

Somewhere during Eggs Benedict, she started to cry.

“He was such a sweet and gentle guy, really smart and I really liked him. I was doing everything to get him to cum. Every position, talking dirty. Finally I said, ‛will you please have an orgasm! I’m going to fuck you again before we go to sleep, we don’t have to do this for hours!’ He stopped, looked at me, then got up, got dressed and left!”

She didn’t know why.

Most of her sexual experience is of men who learned about sex with online porn, I suppose. Men who want her to talk dirty, to flail her hips so they could get off as if by their jack-off hand, want her on her knees or on top or backwards, frantically changing from one to the other. Sophia has been cum on and in so many times by men who didn’t care about her or what she would like, oblivious to her lack of emotional participation, that the beauty of sex is lost to her.

It’s become a performance for the benefit of somebody else. She no longer has the ability to be vulnerable, to trust, so that she can lose herself in the experience.

Worse, she has begun to resent sex because of what she has been through, and the demands of others. The beauty of sensuality is lost to the beauty most people would like to share it with.

What an crappy irony.

A lot women can relate. This isn’t the just the result of Sophia’s choices. Another woman I know was married for far too long to a man who humiliated her into starvation because he liked fucking skinny women. When he wanted sex, which was often several times a day, she was used so he could get off. Part of the routine, or there would be consequences, was that she had to fake a convincing orgasm.

I don’t know if Sophia will ever heal, if the right man (or woman) will fall in love with the girl within and with tremendous strength, maturity and patience, bring her back into womanhood in the right way. What a gift that would be, but how risky for Sophia, to let herself become that vulnerable.

I could blame men for this, but I’m not going to. In many ways, the price they pay for the lack of love and romance is just as great, though masked by power imbalance. That’s as far as I’m going down that road, for the moment.

You may question my morality, and the fact that I love men and sometimes enjoy more than one simultaneously, and sometimes enjoy all that in “public.” But I’m so thankful that I was empowered to own my own sexuality, regardless of what you think, and to celebrate that when and where and how I choose.

Baggage in the bedroom (or car, club, limo, elevator, etc.)

We all have sexual history. If not, you are reading the wrong writer.

I don’t talk about past lovers with current lovers. It never turns out well. The insecure don’t believe they can ever compete, and those who want to compete with my past are completely absent from the present, which is where I need them to be.

Billy is a cool guy; sweet, tall, blond and a great body. I would sleep with him, too, if I didn’t worry about screwing (!) up our friendship. Okay, yes, we have but we don’t now and we’re both good with that for all the right reasons.

He’s one of the few male friends I have who can talk easily about sex. We had lunch yesterday.

“Karen and I were just rolling along, having a good time. She was on top of me, holding my arms down, kind of a dominance thing, I guess. Then I took her face in my hands to kiss her as gently as could be, and all of a sudden, she threw the “off” switch,” he said.

“She didn’t jump out of bed or anything, but she stopped participating. It was like she was willing to let me finish up, but her passion had left the room. You know how I am, Jessica (I do). If my partner isn’t having fun, neither am I. So I stopped, and asked her what was wrong.

“At first she said nothing was wrong, then said she just got uncomfortable. Eventually she said that one of her previous lovers used to hold her face like that.

“I told her that wasn’t me. She said, ‘I know.’ I said I just wanted to show her I was there, it was intimacy. She said ‘I know.’ I asked if there was anything I could do, and she said, ‘I don’t know.’ And then she got up, got dressed and left.

“I really don’t want it to end like that,” he said, “but she won’t answer her phone.”

Whew. Billy. He’s such a sweet guy, and Karen is going to miss a lot of good times with him, maybe more. I told him to move on.

Trauma in the bedroom can cause so many different kinds of hurt, and if there is physical hurt along with emotional hurt, there can be all sorts of issues to resolve that, unresolved, can last a long, long time. Because of the way we are wired at birth, and all of the socialization we’ve acquired since, the melody of sexuality has many overtones. When two people are out of tune, it can be really tough to find harmony.

Why did I tell Billy to move on instead of work it out? Because Karen wasn’t ready. She didn’t stick around to talk it through. She bailed out, which I know may have been her only option in that moment. But she’s carrying something from her past that it bled all over her thing with Billy.

That may not be her fault, but it’s certainly not his, nor is it his responsibility. Billy will be there for her if she returns. Billy is like that, and that’s just one of the things I really love about the man. But he can’t chase away her demons if she doesn’t stick around, and damage like that is potentially contagious.