I was having a discussion with one of my besties where she declared I was a freak, but I pretend not to be.
I had to correct her.
I flat-out admitted I was one, but I don’t advertise.
And these days, I refuse to waste it on the unworthy.
A lot of women, young and old have gotten female sexual liberation all twisted up and we’ve let go of some of the things that make us naturally sexy in the process.
We’re getting too literal with it. Too in your face.
We take strip tease classes and learn how to hang upside down from poles. We smack our booties and laugh, surrounded by strangers.
We drop it like it’s hot and make it clap in clubs. “Left cheek, right cheek.”
It’s fun. It is what it is.
But I reflect, and I’ve mentioned this in a post a long time ago.
I had never felt so free, so sexy and at the same time so vulnerable than when I was making love to the man I was engaged to.
I was ridiculously turned on by wearing nothing but the ring during the act and wiping the sweat off his face and looking right into his eyes.
Vulnerability is our strength as women. When we balance that, in my opinion, we’ve won the game.
As women, we are so busy trying to be EVERYTHING, we stop just being ourselves.
We get lost in all of the things we think we are supposed to be, and we don’t listen to who we are. This is across the board, at work, with our families, all of the lines blur and blur, and we are expected to hold every single thing together, we are responsible for maintaining everyone else’s happiness and success, while neglecting our own.
It’s the curse of being nurturers and multitaskters.
Maybe on some level women are the ultimate egoists, because we are convinced that we can and will do it all.
I do this to myself everyday and then I criticize myself.
There’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable in the right arms.
In fact, it’s otherworldly. It’s safe. It’s honest. It’s the realist thing you can reach out and touch and feel and be reminded of how alive you are and how fortunate you are to be suspended in that moment with that person.
There’s nothing wrong with being a freak there either.
I suggest all women figure out what kind of freak they are and accept it, and master it. As I told my friend, even professional athletes go to training camp at the beginning of the season.
Freaks gotta sharpen their skills too.
The most passionate sessions I’ve encountered was when I was giving up more than my body to someone I trusted and felt safe with and it was as equally terrifying as it was intense and freeing. Terrifying because I was being me. Vulnerable, a little nasty, but me.
Nothing is worse than doing something and wondering if your partner is going to think you are too advanced, or too nasty. Your head is already out of the game. You are self-conscious. There’s no way you will come out of this session satisfied.
Your bedroom should be the last place to feel like you can’t be yourself, as reserved or as raging freak as you may be.
On the flip side, you shouldn’t feel like you’ve got to put on a show or pull a hammie in the process.
You should be who you truly are and the person you are with should be enjoying you as you are. Period. If not, you don’t need to be with them. The end.
I hate the pressure placed on women to do all of this extra stuff that they may not be comfortable with to please their partner and his perception of what he thinks great sex should be as dictated by porn or multi-jointed exotic dancers.
If the roles were reversed and women had the expectations of male porn stars, just off of size alone, men would throw in the towel and not even show up.
So how is this fair? How is this right?
I’ve got to be able to hang upside down, in heels and have a non-existent gag reflex?
Give me a break.
Women be glad we are the emotional yin to a man’s physical yang. All of these things are connected. There is a reason we are wired the way we are and the whole “having sex like a man” (“no feelings”) thing is a farce. It’s also a farce because men actually have feelings too! What? Nah…
Yes. They do. It’s just about the woman they deem to be the right woman, but hot damn, they have feelings too and are just as sensitive, if not more sensitive than us.
That’s why we bring the spirit of sensuality, we bring the soft side. That is where we specialize. By us setting that tone, just as the right man makes us feel safe, we in turn, make them feel safe to be more emotional. We shouldn’t minimize that very important role or chastise ourselves for being so “emotional.” It is an emotional thing. And that is what we bring. It’s beautiful.
Seems like we women have to exchange a little freak and the men need to exchange a little vulnerablity.
Maybe if we saw ourselves as bringing more than the sum of our body parts to the table, and that we are seeking an exchange that satisfies all of our parts physical and emotional, we wouldn’t give in to men who aren’t worthy. We wouldn’t subject ourselves over and over again to bad sex because we will have recognized our value and not placed our partner’s satisfaction way, way, way above our own.
I’ve done it. It ain’t cute.
Our brains and bodies and soul have to be aroused. And as I get older, I’m glad it works this way. I’m glad it’s all connected to remind me that the person unlocking my inner freak has to have the skill set to get all of those things going.
If not, it’s a disservice to myself. A huge one.
A massive one.
It makes me more selective.
It makes me become a bit more selfish sexually, as opposed to just being proud of myself that I pleased a man and he thought I was great or the best or whatever.
It’s more than that. We have power. And it’s not the kind you hang over someone’s head, or the kind you use to get rent paid and hair done. Our sensual and sexual power is more than currency, it sustains our own self-esteem and reminds us of our value.