Control

It seems that everything in mainstream sexuality is about control. Domination, owning, degradation. I'm supposed to like penetration from a secret nasty desire to be dominated*. I'm supposed to want dick in my ass, cum on my face, getting spanked, because of a secret desire to be controlled.

But what if I decide that I like all of these things? And I like them because it feels good. Or maybe because it feels good to please my partner. Or maybe, amazingly enough it feels good for both of us? I don't know, I'm just going out on a limb here.

I don't want anyone to own my body. Heck, I don't even own my own body. I just want someone to pleasure me. It's really that simple. I am not an object. I'm a person. I like to feel good. I like to touch and explore and experience new feelings.

*I should clarify, I am not speaking of specific dom/sub relationships. I'm referring specifically to the strange widespread belief that all relationships between men and women are inherently dom/sub with women always playing the submissive role.

The epic showdown

I have owned the first third, now onto the 2/3 which I think will be the hardest part of all this. The 2/3 is where that muscle wall is, its there mocking me, burning and hurting and preventing me from living my life. But I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna do what I want to do. And this is it. No ridiculous gimmicks or theories, just me versus my body.

I want to have hot sex just like anybody else.

A dream

I had a dream last night about hooking up with a guy I know. He's a cute, nice guy. He said he liked me in the dream, that I was a beautiful woman. We started kissing and touching each other. It felt really good. Then he got up to leave, "Where are you going?" I asked him. "I have to go to the drugstore." He climbed out his window and left. The drugstore? I thought, Of course! Condoms. Wait...CONDOMS?! That means we are going to have sex, right? I wondered if there was any way I could reason my way out of this. I can't have sex, I'm a virgin. I'm untouchable. But another part of me resigned myself to just let myself go, to give a try, see if it hurt or felt good. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

Unfortunately I never got to find that out, since I woke up. But it's encouraging in some ways, even my subconscious is antsy to figure out what sex is like.

A list of annoying assumptions people like to make about some woman's sexuality

Okay, so I realize any person reading this may not agree, nor am I trying to imply that any of these acts are actually bad or undesirable. People are absolutely entitled to like whatever they want, and I wouldn't actually care. Please do what you love! I am just saying for my own personal opinion or what I want and what I often feel is conflicting in my quest to discovering and owning my sexuality.

1. All women are inherently bisexual:

No, no and no. I don't like women. This is weird because I watch lesbian porn, but honestly, its not the women that makes it watchable, its the acts themselves. And its really hard to come across a quality video of a guy jerking off a girl without penetrating her. So I have to watch girls do it. Frustrating really, it sometimes feels invalidating that my relatively mainstream interests in petting and fondling must be relegated to a sexuality I don't actually feel because the rest of society deems it not exciting enough.

It doesn't matter to me that bisexual, bicurious, and lesbian people exist out there. Good, great. I'm glad. Sex is wonderful. But for some reason, the entirety of the male population seems to think that we all want to just make out with one another whenever we get two drinks in us. And its simply not true. Girls don't light my fire. Guys do. I'm heterosexual. Boobs and butts are great, but to me its nothing compared to a nice male body. Some hard kissing and face stubble. I'm not going to titillate you by making out with my friend. If I ever have a threesome, its gonna be two guys. Because I like guys. And I guess that's that so why do so many men find that hard to understand?

2. All women secretly just want a man to control them.

Again, there are many people who do enjoy being submissive. But usually this is under a specific context, that they discuss and arrange with their partners. Which again, is fine and not a problem. But there is a pervasive belief that we ALL want to just be sexily servile all the time. We just need a man to put us in line, to mark his territory, to domineer over us. My boss actually tried to tell me this. He tried to convince me that my previous taste in men was actually not true, and that I was covering up my latent desire to have a man control me. Needless to say I was pretty pissed.

If say, I suddenly desired for a man to slap my ass and tell me I'm a dirty slut, my boss would still be wrong about me. Why? Because there's nothing 'degrading' about asking someone to do something hot to you. I mean who cares what you are actually asking for, the point is you are actively asking for it and therefore not being controlled by anyone. If a man suddenly started slapping my ass and calling me a dirty slut I would feel highly uncomfortable. I wouldn't suddenly realize my deep hidden desire to be spanked, I would feel frightened and pissed off having my boundaries violated. That is not hot. For me, the thought of control is hot. However, I'm still rather timid in my encounters.

3. All women desire a tall, ripped guy with a huge dick.

Again I encountered this at my work place. I'm a short person, and I tend to gravitate towards short guys. For some reason this is a problem to other people. If I said I liked only tall guys, no one would bat an eye. (That said, I never said I only liked short guys, I just tend towards them) There are many types of people in this world, and many of them are attractive. Not because they are x, y and Z, but because they are who they are.

On the subject of huge dicks. To me, dicks are as attractive as the person attached to them. When I had feelings for an asian guy, plenty of snide dick related remarks were made. Its outrageous really, for some reason people actually thought about why I would possibly like someone whose race is stereotyped as having small dicks! The nerve! After all, why the hell would I want such a subpar specimen? Shouldn't I, despite having vaginismus, want an enormous 10 inch dick uncomfortably crammed into my already difficult vagina? If for some reason, I find myself losing my virginity to a guy with a coke can cock, it would be because I liked that person so damn much, that I actually wanted to uncomfortably cram it in. Conversely, if I find myself losing it to a guy with a four inch wang, it would be because-wow I actually like that person, and I actually don't give a shit about something as ridiculous as dick size. Particularly when there's so much else to like about a person.

4. All women just love giving blowjobs, in fact they have like totally awesome orgasms from it cause its so awesome. No need to reciprocate the favor.

I like giving a bj just as much as the next enthusiastic partner. I really like to see a person enjoying themselves. It feels good to hear someone moan and writhe. Its hot and enjoyable. But it doesn't actually feel like anything to me. Like on my body. You aren't like massaging my mouth or anything. Bjs are hard work! They make your gums hurt when you forget to floss, sometimes you jab yourself in the throat too hard and gag. Jizz tastes funny. Sometimes it gives me stomach cramps.  But that's not why you give: you give because you want someone else to feel.

A horny girl may be happy to blow you. Which is totally fine, live it up good sir. But don't think that it actually stimulates anything besides the imagination. You should offer a reward to that person. You should make it worthwhile! Of course, some people don't actually want any reciprocation, which is also fine. But don't convince yourself into thinking this is some sort of reciprocal sexual acts. It is purely one sided.

5. All women shave their vulvas, and if they don't, they are totally willing too because it is totally not a pain in the ass.

I realize many people shave their pubic regions. Thanks to mainstream porn, this is a commonality now. Some people don't even know that women have hair down there (Seriously, I just recently talked to a guy who didn't know girls had hair in their ass cracks.) To some people, shaving is really easy and not very irritating on the skin. To other people, they might as well just pour tabasco down there because its just so irritating and horrible. I've tried this before, and each time, the skin on my very important area has become horribly inflamed and prickly and horrible.

I trim, but I will not shave. I am entitled to keep the products my body was made to have. People grow pubes when they hit puberty. Pubes are long and curly, sometimes they feel itchy. Sometimes they get caught in people's teeth. But honestly, that is not the end of the world. Its just pubes. And expecting your partner to shave down there every day just so that you don't have to think about nasty pubes is a ridiculous request (And yes, some of us have hair that grows back every day). It's one thing to have a preference, its another to have an unwavering expectation. (As an aside, I'm not even sure how to shave an ass crack?! I must be missing something.)

6. Women who blow lots of dudes are sluts. Men who go down on women are ladies men.

This is just a huge crock of shit and I don't have to explain why. A mouth on a dick is a mouth on a dick. I know a very lovely person whom I never fight with and usually always agree with, but for some reason he can't shake this belief. I get ridiculously pissed off.

Good to know I'm losing value every time I try to please a dude. Because I mean really, when you are unable to have sex, how many other acts can you perform? I'm going out on a limb and guessing that many handjobs will also make me slutty. And having lots anal will probably make me even 'worse' so really I'm just supposed to swallow (no pun intended) my label and not give a shit what people think? I mean really, how the fuck do I win here? I'm supposed to explore my sexuality and gain experience before I settle down, and yet anything I do will be perceived as my value diminishing! And I guess once I'm 'cured' I'm supposed to have just a ton of sex with a bunch of people so I can learn about sex. Because if I went on some dates I would owe those guys sex! I mean they worked so hard to be nice guys. Or I could just blow them, which hey still makes me slutty! But hey, it doesn't even like count anyways, cause that's just foreplay, I'm not actually gaining experience (Like this is a game or something). That's nothing more than an unfinished hookup. Again, I wouldn't pass judgement on a girl for sucking a lot of dicks, just like I wouldn't pass judgement on a guy who gave a lot of girls head (In fact, I would totally consider that a plus!). But some other people aren't as open minded.


It's like, I never can win. No matter what. People keep trying to box me into their view of sexuality. And it drives me crazy. It really does.

Is it hedonist for me to just do what I want? It like scratching an itch, it is a natural thing. A natural thing that everyone else does. I really want to do, just what my body needs to. Just what it wants to.

Sexual Healing While in the Pit of Dysfunction

This is a really old post I had written but never published on another blog, it highlights some of my views on sexuality and why I think I became what I became.

Sexual healing while in the pit of dysfunction 

Healing while amidst a a whirlwind of clashing and harmful ideas of sexuality, the feeling of being in a pit of disease, with oppressive maggots crawling underneath one’s skin, the fear of succumbing to them, the fear of losing love, being too emotional, mental instability, confusion and uncertainty about what lies below, nausea, shaking, tears, anger.

This is not how things are supposed to be

Real love requires the sensitivity, connection and understanding between people. These things can combine to form an act in which two people manifest the positive attributes of their relationship as a physical form, an ecstatic/orgasmic release of energy that serves to strengthen the love at hand or at least maintain it.

But yet, most people struggle to find this even in successful relationships. Why you ask, would anybody allow such basic important desires to be stifled? From a woman’s perspective, it starts from day one: enshrouding sexual acts in guilt, keeping people in the dark about the true functioning in their body, employing scare tactics in religious systems, education systems, social systems in an attempt to keep kids from getting pregnant.

And this works for awhile, at least for some people, and it works really well. The problem being that when it comes time for it to be socially acceptable to be sexual, by then you have been internalizing shame and guilt for nearly two decades of your life.

It goes a little something like this: as a very young child, you begin to realize that doing certain things feels good, but you often try these things in situations when its deemed inappropriate and you are scolded accordingly. Almost immediately the child realizes that this is an embarrassing or unwanted act, something that must not be done, or only be done in secret. Naturally, the child’s curiosity gets the better of them and they begin to do it in secret but they are limited by the narrow scope of knowledge they have about pleasure and their bodies, so they do the simplest and most basics things to feel good when the have the limited opportunity. It becomes a sort of release, a guilty pleasure, something to help them fall asleep at times, which varies in frequency at different times of the child’s life, until they reach preteen year, when it is assumed that children will just be gaining these desires (which isn’t true, its been happening all this time) and seek to stomp them out early to prevent their children from getting knocked up. It is then that school and religious institutions begin frantically indoctrinating the young children, and the now preteen child becomes filled with anxiety-believing that what they thought was simply inappropriate behavior in public may actually land them in the burning fires of hell if they continue, or that they’ve been abnormal in some way enjoying pleasure before the other kids have begun to realize their desires.

So they begin to try and stop this behavior which has brought them so much comfort over the years, out of concern for normality and the state of their soul. Its difficult but eventually it stops happening so much and the child finds away to sleep except for an occasional bout of pleasurable activities. But its different each time, because now the preteen feels an intense feeling of guilt the next day, for giving into their demons, they feel self-conscious about it, like they are the only ones dealing with this problems. Soon, school has taught the preteen about ‘sex ed’ and they spend the day in a confused haze try to piece together the strange vague information presented to them. Does this apply to me? They wonder to themselves, as they certainly have no idea if they’ve ever seen anything like what what presented to them in the colorful reproductive drawings on the overhead. The thought of a strange inflatable organ is silly at best, or an unseen rigid third canal somewhere down there. Neither of these seem to fit a description of something the preteen possesses but nevertheless, later that day when going to the bathroom they glance down at what lies between their legs for a longer amount of time, but they feel baffled wondering where a third canal could (Or where the first and second are for that matter). But instead of investigating it, which could be masturbatory and therefore wrong, the preteen pulls up their underwear and promptly tries to forget about it.

Soon puberty arrives and their region down their becomes enshrouded in a dark forest of coarse, twisty hairs which seem to be a barbed wire fence yelling KEEP OUT! And the now teenager obeys and becomes almost fearful of it, trying not to touch it even while bathing for fear of being sinful, but it only makes itself more known secreting strange whitish globs of ooze into the unsuspecting teen’s underpants. The teen is handed books about ‘becoming a women’ which have instructions on how to combat stress and acne, periods and inserting a tampons. The teen shrinks into a corner while reading the chapter on tampon insertion, not wanting to be seen reading about such an obscenity, highly curious about this menstrual cycle which has yet to come-yet still, they are confused: the diagram is far too simplified, where is this hole the book speaks of? It seems to be right down below directly between the legs according to this diagram, but why couldn’t they see it?

Meanwhile, the teen begins to acquire information on real life sex from their peers, magazine articles, TV shows and the like. It seems to be that the only people having sex are known as dirty or slutty people, so the good girl teen doesn’t stop to think twice about doing such a thing anyways. Eventually, some older kids begins to inform her about first time sex, and she learns that something happens called ‘cherry popping’. It sounds horrific and further solidifies the fear of never wanting to figure out where this hole is, the one deep beneath the forest and the goo. The smell rising from it bothers her, she doesn’t know what it is or if its normal, the fear associated with touching it begins to rise.

Soon, feelings of want rise from her inner consciousness, inspired by animes and fan stories and other things of that nature. She begins to think of things that inspire her sexually, and her bedtime ritual begins again, although the visions are often foggy and unclear, there is barely anything sexual in them aside from kissing, yet still they are thought to be complete sexual desires. As the teenage years progress, and she begins to surf the Internet and her friends often talk things of an intimate nature but never about masturbation, just about how gross things were, or when they would like have sex for the first time and with who and so on. This information amounts to the teen forming a complete picture about sex: after a certain amount of time in a relationship, a couple will have sex, but the first time it will be very painful, the membrane covering the vagina will tear and the will be lots of blood, but after that sex will be good from there after. The teen resolves her self to put such an event off as long as possible if not forever, their vagina becomes a symbol of fear, that anything put into it might result in an accidental loss of virginity which would equate to intense pain. Thinking about it results in pain and anxiety, so she tries not to think about it whenever possible. Over time, the feelings intensify and everything people say only seems to reiterate the idea that first time sex is painful. Years pass, and still the teen hasn’t gotten any more education than that, the opening remains elusive, the teen never uses tampons or looks in a mirror for her opening, the anxiety is replaced by a feeling of sickness triggered by just looking at her vulva, even while going to the bathroom.

Then one day the older teen gets into a relationship, where she often fears that sex will be brought up. Even after all of those years of bedtime pleasuring, the teen is clueless about sexual matters, never having had a complete sexual fantasy. The boy tries to show her what might feel good for her, but she feels full of guilt and disgust, clenches her legs tightly whenever he goes down there and insists that it won’t work. He says that sex is only painful because most people aren’t doing it right, but she vehemently rejects that idea as false, since no one had ever said that before so it must be false. Over time, their relationship develops despite the problems, and she even becomes use to some activities performed even though her legs often clench tightly, and sometimes a feeling of sickness or anxiety passes over her. Even later than that, she decides that maybe she is ready to try sex with the right preparation, believing the discomfort may only be brief. However, when the time comes, she feels rather nervous but believes that its normal, when it comes times for him to try and enter her he places himself at her opening and she becomes hysterical-effectively stopping the activity. She’s left confused wondering “how did it get to this point?”

This is how it happens.

Progress!

I made great progress today, getting closer and closer to owning my body, and even closer to owning my sexuality. It's my body and I will use it when i want to. Made it swiftly to the second knuckle, and there was virtually no burning sensation. I wonder how I'll know when I've made it through? Like, when does it switch from progress to over? It's hard for me to believe that people put things up there, big things. I mean, babies come out of there! And here I am celebrating over half of a tiny little finger.

Life is funny like that.

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It's strange, compared to last summer my life is tenfold more stressful than this summer, and yet I feel a lot better. Maybe it's because i've just given up or something. I'm just so tired of all of the crap. The dysfunction, the isolation, the crying, the self-deprivation. I just want it to end. I want new experiences, new emotions, I want the gross, dirty and humiliating life that everyone else can freely indulge in. And I think I'm on my way there.

I Love The Way You Hurt

For the first time in my life I've felt awesome and validated. Like suddenly I have the ability to be attractive to the opposite sex. It's silly really, but its been a long time coming.

It's hard when you encounter someone who's a really good kisser in a bar. I mean, what's the probability of that happening again? I mean, should it even happen again? I wouldn't be complaining. I could kiss like that all day.

I rather like kissing a man with a little stubble, a bit rough around the edges really. It's hard to get out of my head, just like that one time I was dating a guy and he whispered in my ear, "Are you gonna come for me?" And I can never get that out of my head. I fucking hate that guy, but I can never get that out of my head. Hot.

Sometimes things get complicated

They always do. But its my body and I will do what I want to with it. Mine.

This Morning I Sat Naked From the Waist Down Staring at a Mirror

Welcome to a blog post about vaginismus.

Vaginismus is the involuntary contraction of the vaginal muscles, which can occur in response to past pain or intense fear of pain. In its most severe forms, it can make any type of penetration impossible. To those of you who can simply insert tampons on a day of heavy flow, go to the gyno, self stimulate, have sex, these things may have been uncomfortable at first, or painful. But for me, they are impossible. I have never worn a tampon, I'm a virgin, no g-spot orgasms for me, weird hysterical meltdowns at doctors offices. It feels sometimes that my vagina is literally ruling over my life. I have this part of my body--this mystery part, that I cannot access. It is no longer mine.

It frustrates me to no end. Sometimes it makes me wish I was never born. There is no solace from it, because it lives on me, mocking me. Teasing me. It is ruining my adulthood, my relationships, my pleasure, and so much in between. I am broken. I am defective. I make the people I love angry.

I had to learn everything from scratch. I had to learn to be sexual, to touch, to look, to probe. These parts on my vulva, I didn't know what they were, or what they were supposed to look like. Looking too hard used to make me feel sick and lightheaded. What is this thing?! Is this some kind of joke? I used to think incredulously. What sort of frightening, flesh-fold abomination was this? Everyday after my shower, I sat in front of a mirror examining. It got easier as time progressed, until now I touch my body freely without fear. It was a triumph.

But now it leaves one more problem. The inside. What lies within this wet and frightening place? I was determined to find out today. I sat down in front of the mirror, yelling at myself, "Normal people do this every day, so why can't you?" "This is my body, and I can do what I want!" And I sat patiently, finger in place, waiting for the muscles to loosen, for the stinging sensation to lessen and become bearable. And I pressed on, slower the the slowest snails pace until I felt this hard rock. I realized this was my muscle. The doorway telling me to stop; the thing trying to keep me out of my body.

And at first, I was angry, but then I realized. Look, look how far I've come. I can actually feel the muscle. I don't just know its there, I have stood before the gates and asked for forgiveness. And I have been greeted by a cold stare. But at least I have seen that stare with my own eyes. And it can't last forever.

Why I Hate Summer

Since the beginning, I have always hated summer. Summer, brings out the worst. Every year it makes me just feel like shitty death. I begin to question my very validity as a person. It's hot, I generally am unemployed around this time. I have no obligations, no plans. Just an endless sea of nothing. Relaxing all day. All day. It's not relaxing. It's torture. Especially for a person with mental illness. It feels like I'm burning in the million fiery suns of hell. It's hot, I'm forgetting to eat. My energy level goes to zero. I'm dehydrated cause I don't care about getting up to drink or eat anymore. I stop picking up my phone. I can hardly use the bathroom. I can't sleep, and when I do it's plagued by horrible dreams. Even my waking hours feel like fuzzy blurs between consciousness and fictional insanity. And each summer, it feels like its getting worse. I feel like I have less and less. Sometimes I feel like I'm at the end of my rope. The stress makes it hard to hold a steady stream of thoughts or make conversation. It frightens me. I feel alone. Violent even, because I'm just so fucking apathetic that I just want everyone to leave me alone so that I can just climb away on a desert island and vomit out all of the bad thoughts until I just die.

It's ridiculous, and scary. But sometimes people get desperate. Sometimes people lose their jobs and their money and their sanity and their roommates. Sometimes people feel utterly alone. Sometimes, people lose their relationships because they can't have sex or be normal and useful. Sometimes it makes people crazy. Sometimes, people can't think of any scenario where they would actually feel good. And that makes the long tunnel of life seem dark and cold and moldy. It makes it seem unbearable sometime. It makes people's compassion seem unfathomable even. Like some sort of feeding tube or life support. Like I'm just some decorative corpse being carted around for the sake of others. A hollow shell of a human. So useless so soon. Inadequate. No value.

What good does a person with no value have, with no view of the future in which there is no pain? No relief from pain. Forever daunting. Forever insulted. No way out. What does a person like that do?
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Nothing, that person does nothing. Who's to say what lives have value and what lives don't? The burden I place on others is minimal compared to others. Debts can be repayed. Apologies can be made. Illness can be managed. Jobs can be gotten. Pain is eternal, but summer is not. It comes and goes each year after spring. But fall is always a cool breeze away. And things will be. Okay. Not good. Not ideal. But they will be. Because that's the way it has to be.