my first anniversary

I’m currently at my mother-in-law’s place, where I launched this blog one year ago today, Christmas Eve. (No, she doesn’t know!)

I’d had my epiphany in the summer of 2014. There was only so much I could accomplish while Wolf was away, so five or six months later I still felt very much like things were just beginning. When I first started blogging, it was with the intention of documenting my exploration of my own sexuality, not knowing what I would find.

I’m not really one for planning and expectations. I had and have no schedule for this, no checklist. At the outset, I asked myself a number of times what I was trying to accomplish — what was the point of putting this deeply personal (and potentially embarrassing) material out into the world? I’d had difficulty with sexuality forever and I was only able to solve that issue by remaining curious, reading things that caught my interest, asking questions and looking for answers. My solution was out there but it had required rather a lot of assembly. I figured that if I could supply a few more nodes of information and hopefully some insight, maybe it would be helpful to others.

I don’t know if I’ve had any success with that particular goal — perhaps it was merely a justification. Not many people find my blog through searches*, and I don’t actually have that much to say about sexual shame and how to overcome it, because once I assembled the requisite bits of knowledge, the shame melted away on its own. Although I still have some hangups, I don’t think those have anything to do with unresolved shame.

I haven’t written as much as I thought I might, although this isn’t a great surprise. Occasionally it was a lack of material, but, of late, finding enough time has become the bigger challenge.

I have ended up posting way more photos than I expected to, partly because of the simple fact that I find them quicker and easier than writing. At this point a little more than half my posts are photos! This has provided me with an unplanned opportunity to express myself visually; I’ve found that I’m most comfortable with sensuality, sometimes shading towards eroticism, and less so with overt sexuality. [For what it’s worth, my busiest day for blog traffic was the day I posted this photo of my ass.] I’ve also been discovering my visual style as an artist (if that’s not too grand a title), which has been fun on its own and has to an extent informed my sense of style in how I dress and how I decorate my house.

I suppose that it’s not a big surprise that the sex blog memes that I’ve participated in are photo memes: Hyacinth’s Boobday and Molly’s Sinful Sunday. The feedback from these communities has helped improve my self-image ‌— another unanticipated benefit! And I’ve become acquainted with a number of other bloggers, which has been quite nice.

I’ve also made a very special friend in Gawan, which was utterly unexpected! Whatever our relationship is, it’s unconventional and I don’t know where it will lead, but I’m very glad to have him in my life.

Wolf and I are still learning about ourselves and each other, even after so many years together. There’s lots more exploring for us to do and I’m looking forward to it.


* Some of my favorite search terms that have led people here:

  • hobby fuck sex
  • sex fucking is bad hobby
  • givemeafucknow
  • sex sexy fuck fucking stories tripod mom fiction
  • most pleasant intercourse.

fun

Sometimes my partner compliments me by saying “you look good.” Sometimes it’s “you smell good” or “you feel good” or even “you taste good.”

And when I’m feeling playful, I may respond — with a twinkle in my eye and a half-smile — “I am good.” It’s easy to say because (even if this isn’t what he means) I feel like I’m a good person.

Occasionally he says “you look fun,” meaning that I look sensual and sexual and that I would be fun in bed.

This one tends to give me pause. I’m still not quite used to thinking about myself in that way.

And yet when he said this the other day, for the first time I immediately replied “I am fun.” Then I stopped for a moment to think about what I’d said.

You know what? I think I believe it now.

I am fun.

what I did over the holidays

My dance class resumed today after breaking for Christmas six or seven weeks ago. The instructor went around the room asking what interesting things people had been doing during the break.

The only interesting thing that’s going on for me is I’m getting fucked a lot, but that’s not something I’m going to share there.

One, divorced with adult children, had been very vocal about being single and not getting any, but everyone knows she has a new boyfriend and folks were cracking jokes about how much she was getting laid.

Of the rest, four are getting little or no action: two singles; two long-term marrieds. The one who has a young child had nothing much to say on the topic.

One (who often makes sexual jokes and comments) was single for some time, but she got a boyfriend about two years ago and it sounds like they got rather busy. I think things have settled down for her now.

And then there’s me with my mouth shut, trying not to smirk too much.

I tend to be the quiet one — although that’s less true in this group, where I feel very comfortable. I’ll make subtle sexual jokes but I never reveal anything personal. There wasn’t much to say before anyway.

I’m certain that I got fucked more than any one of them. But I think it’s also very likely that I’ve actually gotten fucked more than all of them put together. Huh.

I had an epiphany

Before

My partner1 and I have had an excellent relationship for almost 20 years (we married almost 10 years ago). But not even a year in, the sex declined rapidly and remained minimal. Like once-every-two-months-ish or less.2

Because of me.

I wanted to want to. But — for some reason I couldn’t figure out — I didn’t actually want to. The result: I was on my guard at all times and simultaneously felt guilty that I didn’t want it. Completely torn. I was grateful (and occasionally a little surprised) that my partner stayed with me through it all. Top all of that off with another helping of guilt.

Then

For the last couple of years, my partner has been studying overseas and thus has been away for 2 to 6 months at a time, and home for up to 3 months at a time. I hoped that my anxiety about sex would decline while we were apart, and that my defences would drop on their own. Maybe then I could make some kind of improvement.

About a year ago, I started to have serious challenges with work/family (it’s a family business — so complicated). I started seeing a counsellor occasionally and doing lots of reading on anything remotely relevant to the situation: toxic workplace; body language; passive aggression; my personality and the personalities of others at work; anger; boundaries; sensitivity and the highly sensitive person (HSP).

It took a while, but my sexuality began to thaw this past summer as hoped, and I started doing some reading in that area as well. I had always felt uncomfortable with sexuality generally. I had never experienced anything particularly negative — it just seemed to be an attitude or belief that I couldn’t shake, no matter what sex-positive stuff I read or how I tried to correct my thinking.

Somehow, the phrase ‘sexual shame’ came to mind, and now I had a search term. I was able to confirm that, yes indeed, sexual shame was what I was experiencing. Now, where the hell did it come from?

Suddenly

A throwaway line in a book about HSPs changed everything for me: the sensitivity of HSPs makes it possible for them to be deeply affected by the hurts of others, for instance a sensitive child picking up on the past sexual trauma of a parent.3

Whoa.

My mother was sexually abused by her father.

This is all I know about it. The fact that I know at all is, in itself, highly improbable.

What if my negative attitude about sex is actually hers, not mine?

Sex is shameful and bad. Being married doesn’t make sex OK. Sex is not enjoyable. Always protect yourself — merely saying ‘no’ is probably not sufficient. If sex can’t be avoided, it is to be merely survived. Men are dangerous and can’t be trusted about sex. Sex is absolutely private and should never be discussed with anyone. Displays of affection, sensuality or sexuality are always inappropriate. All of these incorrect beliefs are consistent with an unhealthy attitude created by abuse.

Finally — finally — things started to fall into place for me. I don’t think I spent much time pondering: the realization alone seems to have thrown the door wide open. Perhaps the other personal growth work that I had done (getting to know myself better in general terms, learning about sex positivity) had established the necessary groundwork. I’m not sure. But now I’m off to the races.

So here I am, in a long-term committed and deeply loving relationship, finally enjoying my sex life (thank fuck!) and wanting to express it, but oh god not to anyone I actually know!


1   For the purposes of this blog, he prefers the term ‘partner’ rather than ‘husband’ because the latter has a lot of connotations that he doesn’t care for.

2   I haven’t found any reliable definitions in my brief research on the point, but in accordance with this article, I accept the term ‘sex-starved relationship’ as meaning sex less than 10 times per year. A ‘sexless relationship (marriage)’ would then mean no sex at all.

3   I didn’t make note of the book at the time, but I think it was either The Highly Sensitive Person, or The Highly Sensitive Person in Love, both by Elaine Aron.