okay, here goes…

So, part of the reason I started this blog was because I have this neurosis. (Shuddup, you. And you too, in the back! *grins*) I have a hell of a time talking about sex.

I don’t mean sex in the abstract, like, “Some people find BDSM to be very stimulating,” or even, “And then she swept her tongue up the inside of Melina’s silken thigh,” oh, no. Heck, I write gay porn romance novels for a living; that, I’m used to. (Ironically, I started writing gay sex because I couldn’t even do that, at first…) It’ s sex to do with me. What I like, what turns me on, things like that. I have noticed, however, that lots of gay bloggers seem to talk about their sex life and have no problems with that. And I WANT a great sex life. And yet, this is practically a phobia. I can think and imagine talking about sex just fine, but the instant I try to say (or type, or write) any of it, I’m practically paralyzed. I want to get over that.

See, the thing is, LOTS of things turn me on. Or at least, the thought of them does. I have a ridiculously strong libido. It’s not uncommon for me to stay awake at least one night out of the month, unable to sleep because I’m horny (and yes, that’s even with masturbation, thankyouverymuch). (Ha! I said masturbation, about me! I’m improving. I’ve made a concerted effort to improve over the last year and a half. Now I can say that I masturbate. *headdesk*)

At one point, I was telling my then-girlfriend, DK, about this butch/femme novella I had planned. She made a joking comment that she couldn’t wait for me to write it, because she was going to plumb it for my turn-ons.

I laughed. And then I froze. I couldn’t even think about writing the book anymore, because someone was reading it knowing that I was probably writing what I thought was hot. (I still haven’t gone back to that book, but I’m going to.)  Do you see my problem? If I can’t even put what I think is hot in fiction, because someone might (correctly) relate it back to me… I’m doomed. I can answer questions; if someone says, “Do you think this is hot?” I will say yes or no. It’s just coming up with it on my own that I struggle with — and not because I don’t know what I think is hot. Boy, do I know. Just because trying to verbalize it stops me dead.

So. Here I am. With an over-healthy libido and the desire to try all sorts of things, and panic that closes my throat when I start suggesting anything, even tame things like “we should french kiss!” This is not cool.

This, for me, is step one. Admitting I Have A Problem. ;-D I think I know where the problem came from, too, which will give me some steps to talk myself around it. Tonight, for this first sex-life post, I’m probably just going to talk about that. I’m warming up, that’s all. >.> (I’ve decided that these posts will happen no less than once a week. I need to hold my feet to the fire, or I’ll NEVER get over this.)

The earliest experience with any sexual that I remember is Top Gun. Do you remember what a stir it created? Not because it was a good movie, but because Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis french kissed, and you could see his tongue in her mouth. Much like they do in the movies all the time, today, but back then it was A Big Thing. And my mother objected–loudly. Not because they were french kissing on TV, but because they were french kissing at all. Because it was disgusting that he had his tongue in her mouth, and who would ever want anyone to do that ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew! (Only she didn’t sound so sixteen.) The next, similiar, experience I had involved blow jobs, and great disgusting and shuddering.

Now, mind you, at each of these occurrences I already thought these were pretty normal things that I, too, would do someday. It kind of turned me on my head, and what I took away from these — and, I’m sure, a lot of much more minor experiences involving discussions of sex — was that even minor things fill other people with absolute disgust and will then get talked about, so don’t say anything ever ever ever ever.

It was a lesson I learned well.

Now I’m 29, fairly inexperienced, extremely curious (and, let’s face it, horny), really good at flirting and teasing, and not so good at saying, “Honey, will you eat me out?” Or anything of the like. (See, even when I’m writing rhetorically, I have to phrase it in such a way that it sounds vaguely unreal to me, so I can claim I was kidding and wouldn’t actually say that myself, nosir.)

I’ve come leaps and bounds in the last six months or so. I’ve been making a concerted effort to change my thoughts surrounding sex, to tell myself that the people I’m dating don’t feel disgusted at everything remotely sexual, and won’t be repulsed if I say that I like dildos. (And even writing THAT made it suddenly hard to breathe, and I had to talk myself into writing it and talk myself out of writing it, and AGH. I don’t know if it’s better to say, “This is where I’m struggling and why,” or if it’s better to just keep writing. If I stop and say, “This is where I’m struggling and why” — like I’m doing now — it gives me a chance to distance, calm down, stop looking at it, and by the time I get all the way down here I can convince myself not to go back and delete it. Christ.) (Actually, I don’t own a dildo. But I like the thought of them.) (Ha ha, I didn’t panic so much that time!)

I’ve been reading — well, I’m ALWAYS reading spiritual and personal growth books, which I post about ad nauseum on my other journal — books, and one of them was talking about sex and how it’s a loving act, not a shameful one. I keep trying to remember that, that this is something you do and it even makes your higher power happy. It’s helped, actually. Well, that, and knowing that DK was going to move over here eventually and I wanted to be OVER this by then. Now we’re not dating, but I’m going to date someone else and at least she already knew I had Issues, and anyone new won’t. >.<

I’ve had sex. I’ve had really great sex, as long as someone else is taking charge, and I can do things or not do things — as long as I don’t have to say, “Please do x!” I’m perfectly fine at saying, “No,” and then trying something to see how the other person will take it. To a certain extent, you follow body language; relaxing or moaning or gasping is good. Tension, fear, and drawing back is not. (Well, okay, it depends on the tension, but you know what I mean.) But I want to be able to say, “I would like to do this,” Or, “Do that, it feels good,” Or, “Hey, wanna try…?” I can’t do that.

Yet.

This is step one, I think. I know where it came from. I’ve started the work to heal some of the unnecessary shame and disgust — or rather, fear of other peoples’ disgust of me — around it. I need to talk about it.

Phew. Talking about talking about it has worn me out. But at least I’ve started. 😉

J