After finding that hilarious picture and posting it yesterday I realized that I don’t share a lot of that side of myself. Sure, I talk about sex a lot in the context of my husband’s sex addiction, but I think I have allowed that cloud to affect my self-perception too much. Just because my husband has a problem identifying healthy sexual behavior and controlling his urges to act out in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean I do. Talking about sex as part of a fun, healthy relationship is not a bad thing, and neither is really enjoying loving, intimate sexual acts with my husband – even if they can get a little kinky sometimes. 😉
I’m not really sure how Mr. Mess would feel about me sharing things about our sex life, so I won’t really go into specifics about him. I do, however, feel the need to talk about myself as a very sexual woman. I probably am not “experienced” in the traditional sense of that word – at least when it comes to my quantity of sex partners. In fact, I’ve only had 2. Pick your jaw up off of the floor… It is possible to be a 20-something in today’s society who hasn’t slept around a lot.
It’s not for lack of opportunities, but more from the fact that I want my sexual relationships to be with people I have a deep, meaningful connection with. I’m not really a one night stand kinda girl. I am also not interested in a relationship with everyone who is interested in me. I’ve had my share of men who were infatuated with me. I even gave some of them a shot and dated a few times, thinking maybe once I got to know them better they would grow on me and maybe then I would feel sexually attracted. That’s not really how things work, though.
Another reason I have had so few sexual partners is because I “paired off” very young – at only 15. That relationship continued into my 20s. 7 years to be precise. It was also with a woman. I think I’ve posted that somewhere in here before, but it’s possible I haven’t. I know that I have mentioned that my family is staunch, right wing Christian. We almost literally lived in church. We went to Monday choir practice, Wednesday night service, Thursday music rehearsal (my Mom played the piano for the praise & worship), and BOTH services on Sunday because my Dad was an usher in addition to my Mom’s piano-playing, choir-directing duties. Even as teenagers when we could drive we were required to attend all services “as a family.”
Given all of that, it should be pretty apparent that they were not open to the idea of their daughter being bisexual (or a lesbian, since at that time I wasn’t entirely sure myself). They found out when I was 16. I lived in Hell for the next 2 years. I graduated right after my 17th birthday, but wasn’t allowed to move out. That year was the worst of my entire life. I moved out at 18 (the very day), and did my own thing for almost a year without speaking to them. Eventually, they came around. Don’t get me wrong, they always said I was “going to Hell.” But they grew to accept and even like her. She went on family trips with us, came to Christmas, they bought her birthday gifts, and the whole 9 yards.
Even though that relationship didn’t last, for reasons that are neither here nor there, I did explore my sexuality a lot during that time. I enjoyed all sorts of sex, and we discovered things together. We bought toys, used blindfolds, even tied each other up or used handcuffs sometimes. We had passionate sex for a long time. Then things started fading in the bedroom – what many in the community refer to as “lesbian bed death.” I have always had a very high libido, but her – not so much. Once things fizzled and eventually died, I had really come into my own sexually. I was ready to explore.
As a young girl (because face it, that’s what I was at 15) I was somewhat frightened by the idea of a penis. I had, of course, never been faced with one before and at that time couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be around “one of those.” Experimenting, using toys, and yes, watching a little porn and Queer As Folk (which is basically gay porn wrapped up in a storyline, albeit a really great one IMO), I became much more comfortable with the idea. Curious and eager even. I realized more and more that I am truly bisexual – it is more about the entire package, who a person is on the inside, than what their outside “package” might be.
When I met my now husband and realized that spark was there, it was game on. I, unfortunately, didn’t wait as long as I would have liked conceptually before jumping into bed. We were sexual after our second date (the third time I had been out with him since I’m not counting the night we met as a date). We had hours and hours of phone conversation by then, but still… I have that slightly conservative core that comes out now and then, making me feel ashamed for giving away the goods so fast. Oh well… Although he is a sex addict, that didn’t seem to spill over into our dating life in a negative way at first (until 9 months to a year later with the porn and affair and all of that mess). While dating, Mr. Mess was a gentleman. In fact, in the inebriated, horny state I was in the night I met him I was ready to go at it right there in my car, parked in the middle of a city block. He politely declined, talked some sense into me, and we parted company that night with the promise of a real date. I guess I was special to him in the beginning…
The deep throating comment from yesterday’s post is not untrue. I have realized that I really love giving oral sex. It’s just a fact. Giving another person pleasure, feeling that power and excitement, turns me on beyond belief. I can actually orgasm just from making someone orgasm. I get all tingly just thinking about it. I’ve probably said far too much for my husband’s comfort level. He is a very private person, and fairly easily embarrassed being open about this type of stuff, oddly enough.
Back to me. I am a very sexual woman. I would gladly have sex every day for the rest of my life. In fact, that sounds marvelous. As long as I can throw in a few marathon days here and there. One orgasm is great, but multiple orgasms are ecstasy. I love variety, and I’m certain I could ensure things never get boring. For now, though, I am pacing myself. I am giving my husband time to rediscover healthy sexuality and learn to control his addiction cycles. I am being patient and biding my time for when my husband’s brain is reset and ready for all the sexy fun I have to offer.