I’m 23 and possibly at my highest sexual peak.
Oh wait, did I mention that I’m a woman?
Four months ago, I suffered the worst breakup from a long term relationship that left me longing for any possible human connection. Physically.
I scoured Tinder for any possible dates that I could just fuck and let go. He needed to be well-mannered and responsible, just enough for me to consider him a viable candidate for occasional one-night stands.
I met a decent enough guy. We met for a drink, and went back to his hotel room. Our chemistry was off the charts. This was new to me. I hadn’t had sex with somebody I didn’t love or even remotely liked. I realised that I’d gotten to know him physically rather than emotionally first. Isn’t this interesting, I thought to myself. The process had been reversed and I didn’t know what the plan of action was.
The next morning, we fucked again, and I said I needed to go, before he could offer breakfast.
We didn’t text for a week. But our night together was freshly imprinted in my head. I would think about it constantly, at work, in the shower, before I dozed off at night. I needed it again to keep my sanity intact.
I texted him, and asked if we could meet for a drink again, a week later. He agreed and we met. The second time we fucked was much better than the first. He’d had a lot of experience in that department. It was so good that I wondered if I could ever have better sex than that with anybody else.
We met fortnightly, and it was all I looked forward to when I wasn’t with him. The day after we’d do it would be total agony; I’d keep picturing him doing things to me, barely engaged in my regular routine.
But here’s what got me. I was engulfed in this emotion that was alien to me: Shame.
I wondered why. Does being aroused all the time need to come with the added baggage of shame? Couldn’t I just embrace how I felt and come to terms with my sexual being? No, I couldn’t. I wasn’t raised to love my body or succumb to my sexual desires.
I wondered, if I were a man who was horny all the time, this would be perfectly normal, and society would tell him to go jack off to an Asian porno. But there was no handbook that could tell me what an aroused woman should do. I didn’t have a dildo or a sex toy to relieve myself of this constant agony. All I wanted was for it to leave me alone, so I could go back to living my boring sexless life.
How do you deal with emotions of shame during sexual arousal? I’d love to know.
