Women Get Horny

But It's really hard to talk about that.

Photo by Ryan Moreno on Unsplash

This is not the story I want to be writing right now, but this is the story I realized I need to write because every time I try to write the story of my threesome, it comes out all wrong.

This is the story where I admit that it's really embarrassing for me to talk about my own sexual desire. And I wish that wasn't the case. I don't want it to be so damn difficult.

I realize this whenever I try to write about my experience with a threesome. I encounter a similar wall when I masturbate alone in my bed. And I recognize it when I think about writing a story regarding my virtually non-existent (though strangely content) love life.

Everybody says "sex sells," but most of us clam up about the real thing in real life at every turn. We blush at the mere idea of speaking honestly about what turns us on in bed.

Even when we talk about sex behind closed doors, we tend to talk about it with much more innuendo than realism. Sure, we know that women get horny.

Cue to curtains blowing in the breeze.

Cut to a black screen.

There are consequences to not talking plainly about sex.

I grew up in a very strict evangelical home where premarital sex was not only frowned upon--sex itself was vilified as some evil, disgusting act. The very presence of sexual desire was constantly aligned with the devil, unless that desire existed between a married couple. Heterosexual, please.

Then, and only then, sex could be magical, sweet, and righteous.

Though let's not forget marital relations also served as some demented allegory about God and his people. Premarital sex? Pure corruption. Jesus making the whole "church" his bride? Oh, that's cool.

If you've ever wondered why sexual abuse is so rampant within Christianity, don't. The answer is right there--the religion breeds sexual dysfunction because it won't talk about sex in genuine or plain terms.

Kids who grow up with warped teachings about sex become adults who are warped about sex. It doesn't always manifest as abuse, but it frequently manifests as guilt, shame, or any variety of sexual dysfunctions which impact a person's ability to enjoy a healthy sex life.

Who really needs sex anyway?

Growing up, I was taught that men needed sex just as much as nursing mothers needed to express their breast milk. Don't believe me? Here's a current screenshot of a page on the website for the Christian organization Focus On The Family.

Focus On The Family website

This line of thinking--that sex is a physical need for men and "only" an emotional one for women permeated evangelical purity culture. It also let men off the hook for bad behavior and punished women for "leading men astray."

Of course, it's also made a lot of women and girls feel wrong or bad for even experiencing sexual desire.

In secular circles, there's a lot of debate about whether or not sex is a legitimate need. There's even debate about whether or not sex can become an addiction.

Personally, I think that sex is a legitimate need much like love and connection are needs. Not everybody needs the same thing, of course, and nobody's dying from a lack of sex as they would die from a lack of food or water.

But death is not the single factor in determining what people need. We all have emotional, mental, and physical needs which negatively impact our ability to function whenever they go unmet.

We ought to be able to acknowledge sex as one of those needs for many people.

A need is not an excuse to use or abuse any other person.

Whether we are male, female, or non-binary, some of us do need sex. We don't "run right" without a regular orgasm (or other sexual activity). There should be zero shame in saying so, but we must remember it's also our personal need. It isn't appropriate to expect a partner to meet our every need or desire, which means it's up to us to positively deal with our own need for sex.

The same applies to our need for intimacy and connection.

If you are in a relationship with another person, you have to talk about how your needs conflict and conflate with each other. It isn't acceptable to expect your partner to go along with everything you think you need because all of those needs are not their responsibility, and your needs may indeed conflict with their own.

You have to talk about that if you plan to enjoy a healthy relationship.

I have a high sex drive. It's not appropriate for me to use anybody to meet that need, so I don't. Likewise, it's not acceptable to say a man "couldn't help himself" around a beautiful woman, so he cheated on his partner.

Need or not, we still have got to respect others and ourselves.

Maybe it begins with masturbation.

I've written before that I think it's unfortunate how masturbation carries such a shitty reputation. "Chronic masturbator" and "mouth breather" are two terms with negative connotations that tend to travel hand in hand.

We should be able to talk about masturbation without shame, though I don't mean we talk about it like Louis C.K. Don't be creepy, manipulative, or assuming. I'm not talking about masturbation as a conversation starter for a hook up, but rather, a simple fact of life.

The reality is that masturbation is "safe sex." It's a way to release pent up stress, enjoy certain health benefits, and get more attuned to your body and sexuality.

I often wonder if talking about sex wouldn't be a helluva lot easier if we could at least remove the stigma of masturbation.

So... maybe it begins with me.

My daughter went to her dad's last night for the weekend, which meant it was the right opportunity for me to relieve some tension upstairs in bed. But it felt really weird because I had a guest sleeping downstairs (my mother).

What are the rules of appropriate masturbation, anyway? I've wondered a lot about that as a single mom and co-sleeper. I wait until my daughter is out of the house and at her dad's, simply because it feels weird to think about doing it when she is in the house. I'm quiet if I'm worried about being heard by neighbors or relatives sleeping downstairs.

But why does it still feel so awkward?

If I were a married woman, it would be a lot less weird to talk about sex. My husband and I could make jokes about how it's so hard to find time for each other. Everybody at least understands that most couples want some alone time when they've got a child in the home.

However, it's a totally different feeling talking about sex and the single mom. Less understandable to others. And somehow... selfish. As if there's something dirty (in a bad way) about a single woman who admits to having sexual desires and urges.

As much as I'm a single mother and custodial parent of my small child, I haven't forgotten that I'm also a woman. And no amount of shame or lectures that "women don't really need sex" have curtailed my libido.

People get horny, and we all have to deal with that.

Men are not the only "horn dogs" around. Folks of all genders get horny and look for ways to appropriately express and release that feeling, and I have the sense that we ought to be able to talk about that. With real and tangible words rather than goofy glances or hushed innuendos.

I want to write a story about having a threesome without feeling so damn awkward about how it will be received. I'd like to talk about my personal sexual desire as something legitimate rather than weird. Something natural and healthy--without that same knee-jerk yuck reaction to words like "moist" or "smega."

But in order to write so openly about my experience, I also have to be able to write about the fact that I am more than a single mother. And more than a super fat person. Like every other person on this planet, I am layered. Complex.

The inability to talk about the fact that people get horny and how that's perfectly natural isn't doing anybody any favors.

We can't relegate this shit to a fantasy world where "normal people know how to manage their libido." We have to make it acceptable to talk about healthy sexual desire first.