I grew up in a household where no topic was considered a taboo. My mom was very transparent about sex and even her own sexual history with me at a very young age. However, even when I knew I had all the information I needed only a person away, the idea of sex or physical intimacy scared me. My illogical fears ranged from the irrational worry that I’d become pregnant without having sex (in hindsight, it would be cool to say I was the 21st century Mary) to the universal and prominent uneasiness of not having a “normal” sexual experience.
Growing up, I couldn’t define what constituted a “normal” sexual encounter, but I pictured some cheesy, unrealistic, Hollywood version that middle school children awkwardly laugh about. You know, the ones where foreplay and awkwardness are things of myth and a white, heterosexual couple miraculously climaxes simultaneously after two minutes of missionary.
When I entered high school, those images of manufactured make out scenes left behind lingering misgivings about not performing well in a sexual circumstance. Would my kissing be satisfactory? Would I be considered bad in bed if I didn't orgasm, or if the other person didn’t? Would my virginity label me as undesirable? These anxieties were only fueled by scrutinous gossip about my schoolmates' sexual histories, no matter how much each story varied from the next. Bothered by the consternation of being the subject of the next round of gossip and confusion of what the hell WAS typical sex (because Sally claims it’s sitting still while a guy licks your face but Betty declares it’s running naked around a room with another person while you both scream.) I quickly became self-conscious of, and intrinsically critical towards, my sexuality and sexual output. It became apparent to me that no matter who you were or what you did, anything involving sex immediately placed you on the judgment block, thus continuing a cycle of misinformation, fear, self-reproach, social criticism and stigmas surrounding sex.
Deep down, we want to think we left those childish gossip games in middle and high school, but unfortunately, the adult world produces the same events and opinions, just in a more “sophisticated” way. Every day we are bombarded by magazines advertising how to be better in bed or sexier outside of it, bashing celebrities for showing a little skin (or not), and objectifying the same celebrities based off of their apparent sexual and/or romantic pasts. Our society perpetuates and promotes one wonted way of having sex, never acknowledging the natural spectrum of human attraction in different people. We continue to dig the hole of sexual discrimination deeper and deeper while the bodies of the sexually hurt, repressed and confused pile higher and higher.
I’ve been in a total of 8 sexual relationships/situations, and each experience was vastly different from the others. Some erupted from sundry situations, some resulted in various endings. Most were enjoyable, a few were regrettable, but all were educational. Every single one taught me that my fears about not being “good enough” were bullshit, or, more accurately, that the idea of “normal” sex is just a social construct. Pleasure is subjective, and what one person likes may or may not bring the same amount of happiness, arousal or comfort to another. If someone isn’t pleased by you, that doesn’t mean you’re not desirable; it means that person has a different taste and that’s okay.
*Originally featured in What the F magazine issue 17