My Fiction. My Blog. My Life:After braving the vast world of the internet with fanfictions, I've decided to expand my portfolio with short stories, blog posts, and snippets of my novel.
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a personal essayIt took me awhile to become comfortable enough to write about sex. Even when I was younger writing out a word like pussy or penis made me cringe. Hell, I still pause. And forget typing in anything to watch porn. I was always worried someone somewhere would somehow know. But as I've gotten older I've grown to care less about what others think of me. Not because I've grown into some mature self-assured adult, but because I think I'm right. I love sex, I love reading stories that contain it, I love writing about it. And I don't think there is anything wrong with that. Nor will I ever again let anyone try to convince me otherwise. I write about sex because I enjoy it. But more importantly it has become a personal vendetta for me. Partly against myself, and secretly against my ex. My goal is to show that there is such a thing as a healthy sexual relationship, that it means many things for different people, and that it all should focus around open communication. "Growing up", is such a cliche opening line, but it's as good of a start as any. Growing up, I went through what I called 'the ugly duckling phase'. So by the time I finally became of the age to start having sex, I felt like I was also finally breaking out of my fugly pre-teen years. I shamelessly went through my "sexy" teenage years. But because I'm awkward and shy it more became me just dressing in tight or short clothing and appreciating the looks, without actually going forward with anything. Even today I feel much more comfortable with the written word and only managed to flirt via text or chat online. Which as you can imagine was hard to continue into real life, unless my male counterparts were a bit more daring than me. But even just those words made me feel desired and wanted. And as an ugly duckling, I loved the attention. All those years of being ugly, uni-browed, pimply, nerdy, and otherwise gangly in appearance, I was past all that. So despite the call to end women's worth being focused by our looks, I started gaining my confidence from my developing body. And when I started having sex I liked talking about it, I like flirting with guys and getting excited about the potential results. Though, word to the wise, sometimes the anticipation is better than the turnout. And I think sometimes I just like the thrill of the chase. But all in all, sex was a confidence booster. It does feel good to get that guy you've been desiring for ages. And sometimes the sex is pretty damn good.
And that's sort of where my ex comes in. He liked to psychoanalyze me and put me into these predetermined categories. And because I had slept with men that I hadn't been dating, that I didn't love, there was something wrong with me. He told me time and time again that I had low self confidence, that I had let these men use me for their desires, and in the end it obviously left me as a broken woman. And I believed it. He had been right about the low self-confidence, so I had started to believe everything else he said. In a away my confidence had been tied with sex, so there could a connection. But the thing was, I remember feeling pretty damn good about myself before we started dating. Relatively. I had recently lost my one shot at getting accepted into what I had considered my dream job. My whole life had been based around this job, I was going to get in and do that till I retired. There was no back up plan. So I doubted myself in what I think is a normal amount. It's normal to feel down during any life altering experience when you think "fuck, now what?". But I had been moving on just fine. I had normal anxieties about public speaking, paying my bills, and overall becoming an adult. But when someone tells you over and over that you have low self-confidence and that you need to fix it, you start to believe it. And that part of you that might doubt yourself before stepping in front of a group or before walking into a job interview, becomes much more evident. You can no longer push it aside and tell yourself 'no I'm fine" because someone else has seen it too. It's real. You really do have shitty self-confidence. And now when you approach new things, you remember you have low self-confidence and you can't do it. Not only did I have low self-confidence, but because of my past, I was obvious easy prey to men. On this particular matter, I didn't let him brainwash me. But to make it easier, I just let him just take that part over as well. I was tired of fighting, and part of me did love him. After all, like he said, relationships were about compromises and he was looking past my sex-history, I could do something for him. So I stopped talking to my guy friends. One of which I had been close to for years, and am still feel too ashamed to reconnect with. I also stopped going out with my friend to parties or clubs. All my time was spent with him and our shared friends. Outside of the relationship I would have called myself a fool, but in the moment I was trying to make a relationship work. And it was only the second one I had ever had, so I was going to make a damned good attempt at it. After a while of his tireless jealousy, which was always reasoned with the fact he had been cheated on before me, I found myself lying to him. He grew concerned that all of my coworkers were male, and one time just showed up without warning me. For most this would be sweet, but for him I became panicked for no reason. I had done nothing wrong, but the fact that he was there made me feel like I had to hide something. I made jokes about my coworkers, making them seem less attractive than they were, even though I wasn't attracted to them. The one that was the same age as me wasn't as far as he knew, and I would make comments about our age difference to keep him from freaking out. And when a coworker texted me after a work outing to make sure I made it home safely, he literally checked the time stamps to note I confirmed my safety with my coworker first before texting him. That had started a new fight of course. I was obviously falling for this man, a man I had no desire for. This protective over bearing relationship began to mess with my head. Because on top of that behavior, there was the the baby voice in which he called me 'cute'. Or the way in which he tried to make me better. A partner helps you become a better person by supporting you as you grow. A father forces you to reassess yourself and tells you where to improve and how. And that's how I started to see him. A father. So as shocking it might seem, I had no sexual desire for this dominating father figure. And for someone suffering from depression, or perhaps bi-polar, this destroyed him. I can see from his point of view that having a partner not attracted you, that never initiates sex, or views sex as a weekly chore, as sort of a downer. Part of me is almost upset that I can see from his point of view, but gaining others perspective is something I try hard to do. Not something I think he ever attempted in his life. I explained why I didn't want to have sex with him. But all that got me was a 'no, I'm not like a father figure to you' and endless fights. I was being a horrible girlfriend. And obviously I didn't love him enough if I wasn't willing to have sex with him. Telling someone they need to show their love for you with sex is probably the worst way to get sex. There was never a greater turn off for me than someone saying 'you don't love me because you won't have sex with me.' Though explaining how passionate he was with his exes was a close second. I did love him, and obviously something was wrong with me. However, that didn't matter. Towards the end of the relationship I remember crying, as I often did, that there was something mentally wrong with me. I had thought I would be a perfect girlfriend. I would leave to do my own thing so he could play video games with his friends. I was casual and not super clingy. I like a fair amount of what people might call masculine things. I was active and we often worked out together. But for some reason I was majorly failing at this relationship. After all, I could see that I was constantly upsetting him in some way or another, so obviously it was me that was the bad girlfriend. Plus I was deeply depressed, and had zero sex drive. I no longer even had the drive to do it on my own. I had lost all sense of sexual desire for anything. It just never entered my mind anymore. And if I tried to force it, it wasn't the same. Thankfully though, he broke up with me after only 6 month of dating such a bad girlfriend. I don't think it was so much that I was a bad girlfriend, as he found someone new. And honestly that's how I preferred it. I had always been somewhat afraid of what he would do to himself if I broke up with him. And he seemed pretty proud and self assured to have been the one to end it. I think deep down he was the one with the horrible self-confidence, and it made him feel good to be the one helping me. He probably still thinks it ended on good terms because I just let the friendship dwindle away naturally as we both moved on, never really explaining to him what I had discovered once we split. What I discovered was a clear view of an emotionally abusive relationship. I still don't think he ever meant any harm. In his own twisted view of the world, I think he really could only see me as damaged from 'sleeping around' before him. And in his mind that meant I had low self-confidence and he was honestly trying to help me. It was just a horrible way to do it. Because on one hand he was shaming me for being sexually active before him, though he was just as much as me, he was also guilting me for not having enough sex. And that lead to me doubting myself in more ways than one. Just weeks after splitting, I regained a lot of my confidence, my sex drive, and love for myself. I have normal doubts, anxieties, and struggles with life. And I won't let anyone force their preconceived notions of what someone should do with their own bodies onto me again. And now when I face self doubt, I access it, pump myself up, and push into the uncomfortable stage of something new. Which has lead me to where I am now. I write about sex because there is such a thing as great sex and honest, open relationships. And with each new partnership, dating or not, it doesn't matter what has happened in the past because you have to discover what works between the two of you. And that means communication. Sex has gone from a mysterious curiosity and interest of mine to a stance. Women are not fragile pristine shoes that should never be worn before marriage. They have desires and pleasures just like men. And that can mean so many different things. None of which should be judged. And I try to show that by writing about healthy relationships between consenting adults, no matter what their past. However, that has lead me to cutting virgins from my stories. So while I certainly don't criticize not having sex, there is a very strong reason for why I write about sex and sexually active people. We have enough talk of why you need to be a virgin, or stories like Twilight and Fifty Shade that show case someone losing their virginity. Time for sexually active women that aren't damaged or ruined. Time for those proud females that are the equivalent of a male stud, where sex is just a part of their lives not the defining characteristic to overcome.
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AuthorI am split between a world of fantasies and science. {Blog}
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