Not so long ago I was asked if I write about sex a la Carrie Bradshaw style. Having a number of experiences up my sleeve it has crossed my mind.
I have always been sexually liberated, I couldn’t imagine being otherwise. I believe that sex should be talked about openly between couples and friends. Women shouldn’t feel ashamed being sexually open, in talking about sex, masturbation, or about their bodies. No. And yet, there still remains a wide gender gap where men become legends and women are labelled in many a derogatory way.
In short, I don’t give a fuck. Label me what you will, I will never be packed into a tiny little box.
I can’t colour enough, I would colour all day every day If I had my way, I would use every crayon in my box. ~ Samantha Jones
While I am quite comfortable talking about it all I will always believe that what happens intimately between two people is between them only. (okay, okay, and maybe your bestest friend who is as equally as open as you are.) That said, if I send naughty (tut tut) messages and images then I do so with trust in the recipient, and also in the knowledge that once it’s out there it ain’t comin’ back baby!
I’ll only play at being submissive if I’m turned on by it, and if a guy won’t go down on me then he can leave. This doesn’t make me a feminist, it makes me sensible. Harsh social judgments have no place here and if a man views my openness as something dirty then clearly he isn’t the guy for me. His loss.
I’m not afraid of my sexuality, it is just as much a part of me as my integrity, kindness, silliness and creativity. It shouldn’t define me. I am made up of many things, of which being sexually liberated just so happens to be one.
So, having been asked the question about whether I would write about sex, I started to reflect upon the men who have been a part of my life, love and lust. I couldn’t help but wonder:
I don’t want to be the up-the-butt girl, because I mean… Men don’t marry up-the-butt girl. Whoever heard of Mrs. Up-The-Butt? . ~ Charlotte York
The one who was the first
All the girls loved him. He gave me my first orgasm and many more. He made me a mix tape then he made me cry. He cultivated my love of lust in the outdoors, for that I am very grateful.
The one who broke me
More mentally unstable than I was, the emotional abuse almost destroyed me. It took me over a decade to even start to forgive him for the hurt he caused me. He introduced me to porn, sex shops, sex toys and more.
The one who got away
I can still hear the sound of my heart snap as his final words echoed through me. To this day he is one of the nicest people I have ever known. A good boy who became a good man, just not the one for me. The first baby blues to make me swoon.
The one(s) who should have been a one night stand
Yeah, there’s a few. I never seem to have grasped the concept, neither have a lot of men it seems. I finally realised that when one night turns into a week, turns into a month, then more, it’s actually called a casual relationship. Passionate, fun but never really what I want.
Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as far as meaningless experiences go its pretty damn good. ~ Woody Allen
The one(s) who belonged to someone else
Hangs head in shame, hands up it hasn’t always been unknowingly. The trouble is when you’re fun and carefree you really attract those who want to have the whole cake, know what I mean? No need to hate on me ladies, one of these little toerags kindly gave me Herpes. Karma’s a bitch, but damn she’s good.
The one(s) a lot younger (but legal)
Guilty. I love them! I know, great sex does not a marriage proposal make but, oh boy is it good.
Being single used to mean that nobody wanted you. Now it means you’re pretty sexy and you’re taking your time deciding how you want your life to be and who you want to spend it with. ~ Carrie Bradshaw
The one who set my pants on fire
Hot, sweaty, thunderstorm, movie sex. No further comment required.
The one whose heart I broke
I loved him so much. We were the best of friends and great lovers. It just wasn’t meant to be.
The one I have yet to meet
He’s the one who stays when I am at my worst and I can’t get out of bed, let alone light up a room. He is my equal in everything and opens my eyes to things I have yet to imagine. He makes me cum every time, because he wants to. The rest I couldn’t possibly know, as we have yet to meet.
What’s the big mystery? It’s my clitoris, not the sphinx. ~ Miranda Hobbs