Tag Archives: being sexual

Revisiting: "You Can Make Me Come, But…"

I’ve not been in my right mind this week, literally. So, I’m about to do something I don’t often do, which is to qualify and revisit an opinion piece; the one I posted in response to an anonymous question yesterday.

I’m human and flawed at the best of times, but this week I’ve been plagued with migraines, sleeplessness, and a few other symptoms as a result of an acute sinus infection. I’m beginning to get well, thank god, but it’s made me irritable, angry, unpleasant, and really, really bleak for the last few days, and I think it’s been showing a little too readily in some of my writing, and in this piece in particular.

First off, I’m not doing a 180 here, okay? The reader asked if I thought she was a hypocrite for doing everything but sex. No, not for that reason. I think honesty’s the most important facet of any relationship – be it with a parent, lover, friend…honesty’s EVERYTHING.

If you’re not sleeping with someone because you’re nervous, because you think you want to wait, or whatever your flavour is, then be honest. Say that sex is a really, really huge step for you, and you make no promises, and you may even wait until marriage, but that you really don’t know what your sexual future holds for now, and they can’t have any expectations of it, no matter how much you might be enjoying playing with them as you head down the road together. And if it’s confusing for them, tell them it’s far more confusing for you, because you know that’s the truth.

Don’t take the easy way out, don’t choose some simple pat answer like, “I’m waiting until marriage,” when you know deep down inside that’s not what it’s about.

Besides, you’re selling a lot of guys short. No, they may well not wait until marriage, because marriage is a huge, huge thing, but they might wait one hell of a long time for you, and you’re not giving them that opportunity to honestly consider what it is they would or wouldn’t do for you.

It’s such a hard topic, that of when sex is the right move to make. I have no qualms with abstinence until marriage, but whatever the reasons you’re choosing not to have sex, you need to be honest about them. You need to be honest about every aspect of your life, and I truly believe that.

Honesty shouldn’t be some lost virtue, or something we pull out when it’s convenient to us. It’s hard to be honest about our fears and our emotions, and sometimes being honest about them leads to hard places and difficult roads to travel because it can be so damned confusing to admit what lies behind our poker faces, but the cliché of it being the best policy is true for a reason.

It’s only through that honesty with each other that we can face challenges and adversities. If you’re being dishonest, even about something that’s “kind of” true, like waiting for the right person, you’re setting the groundwork for yourself to tell little white lies when it makes things a little easier for you to process.

I disagree with that to the very core of who I am.

Did I handle the question well? No. I’ve been in a really dark place this week and I’ve not been comfortable facing it. I’ve been dealing with things somewhat passive-aggressively, it turns out, and while I have reasoning for it, it doesn’t really excuse it.

And while you have reasoning for stretching the truth, it never excuses it, either. These are the simple truisms behind living a good life, and you are trying to choose how you want to live. Don’t commit one transgression to stave off another. Clearly, by asking the question as you did, you’re already somewhat uncomfortable with how you’re handling the situation, so maybe it’s time to reconsider.

As for abstinence – feeling guilty about it, questioning it… Abstinence is a hard, hard road to choose. You’ll have weak moments. You’ll feel pressured. You’ll feel like you’re alone in a big, sexy world. And if abstinence is really important to you, then you need to be strong and hold your position. Don’t compromise just because of all those pressures out there in that big, scary world. Do it when it’s right for you, because it’s not something you’ll ever get a chance to revisit.

Personally, I thought I waited for the right guy. In the end, we stayed together too long because I didn’t want to admit he wasn’t the right one after all. You need to be aware that waiting for rightness doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve made the right choice, and it may still go wrong, and you may eventually realize you made a mistake, and if/when that should happen, you can’t hold it against yourself. The majority of our relationships are bound to end, and many of those will end badly, and that’s why they say that all is fair in love and war; because sometimes love is war. Sometimes it’s wrong. So, if you’re holding out, be realistic, and know that your intentions are what counts, not the end result of your actions… if that makes any sense.

Anyhow. I wanted to edit that piece as soon as I posted it, but my mindset had gone to a darker place and I couldn’t conjure the genuine sentiment I needed to do the job right. I hope I have now. For whatever it’s worth, sorry it was harsh. I still agree with some of what I said, but I wish I’d said it better.

Q & A: “You Can Make Me Come, But We Can’t Fuck”

I was sent the following question in a comment this morning, and yes, they were right, it is an interesting topic to write about. Time’s not on my side today, so this is a quick take on the question… a question that could unleash some interesting discussion, and I hope it does.

I decided that I want to wait until marriage to have sex, but I’m still a chronic masturbator and ok with doing stuff with guys that doesn’t involve penis-in-vagina sex. I guess I just don’t really trust anyone enough to go “all the way” with them. Do you think I’m a hypocrite?

You want the short answer? Yep, I do think you’re a hypocrite, more or less. Thanks for putting words in my mouth.

There is nothing that makes me snicker more than religious types (which I don’t know if you are one or not) who tell me they’re abstaining from sex until marriage, but that they’ve done nearly everything except things involving penetration.

It’s the same reason why Bill Clinton was lambasted for claiming he “did not have sexual relations with that woman!” I mean, come on. You’ll get them off, they’ll get you off, but when it comes to insertion, you’re gonna play the morality card? What the fuck is that?

Oral sex, manually-induced orgasms, it’s all intimacy, and it’s all banned off primetime TV, all right? It ain’t for the kiddies and the after-school special, y’know?

If you’re not comfortable having sex for one reason or another, fine, but be honest about why you’re not. Don’t claim you’re some sanctimonious person waiting for the right person or whatever. Admit that you’re scared. Admit you have trust issues (which you have done here).

It’s all right be to scared, but don’t cover it up with some vow of chastity. Don’t run from the situation just because you haven’t got the sack to ante up and face it. I think it’s dishonest to be chronically masturbating, allowing men to get you off, trading favours, but then claiming you’re “abstaining” from sex. Why? What’s the point? You’re already doing all the intimate things a person can do. You’re already investing in carnal pleasures. You’re already sinning in the eyes of most religions.

It’s the sexual equivalent of someone being issued a restraining order for not going within 100 metres of X person/place, and instead of just staying the fuck away, they stand day in and day out at a distance of 101 metres, toying with the allowed limits. How is that possibly honouring the spirit of the situation? It’s not. It’s a crock, is what it is.

I could be all nice and say, “Oh, I understand the ambivalence of not having sex,” and all that, but honestly, you’re already feeling guilty and like you’re breaking some code, or else YOU wouldn’t have asked if you’re being a hypocrite. If you have to ask, then you are. Pretty simple.

If you were abstaining from sex and not letting men finger you, not masturbating, not exploring oral, then you would not be a hypocrite.

But, you, honey, are a hypocrite, any way you slice it. I’m sorry if the truth hurts, but it is what it is.

You’re scared of intimacy, you’re hoping like hell you’re being Just Good Enough to be virtuous, and you know, deep down inside, that you wish you could be fucked silly, but you don’t have the courage or the backbone to go there, because you’re scared that once you give them what they’re really wanting, that they’ll walk right on out on you.

And maybe, just maybe, they will. And maybe, just maybe, those fears are valid.

When it comes to morality, religion doesn’t tend to offer shades of grey. Things are sins, or they are not, and you don’t get to have the decoder ring to decide just how much of one particular action equates a sin. It doesn’t work that way. So, if you’re toying with it anyhow, why not just fucking buy the full-meal deal and get on with it? You’ve not started to go up in flames with the fires of Hell licking all around you yet, so what are you so scared of?

Again, I don’t know if religion plays a part in your decision, so the “you” in regards to anything religious is rhetorical, not specifically YOU.

I just wish people were more honest about their actions, and this duplicitous “well, you can get me off, but you can’t come inside of me” behaviour is symptomatic of all the hypocrisy that surrounds us. I grow tired of it, that’s all.

(Feeling that I may have sounded a little harsh in this post, I decided to revisit it, as I know there are some “virgins” out there who are trepidatious about their sexuality, and I don’t want to add too much fuel to that fire. Check out my second take here.)

Being Good But Behaving Badly

Despite the onslaught of winter here in Vancouver, I took a nice long bike ride by the river yesterday, capitalizing on the selfdom-seen sunshine while I could. On my way back through the industrial lands along the river, a large delivery truck passed me by. Its paintjob dominated by dirt, I saw a message scrawled into the caked-on dirt on the back door:

“Wish my girl was this dirty.”

I had a great laugh as I continued peddling my way home, but it left me thinking about the dualities that every lover should have, but that many don’t. In writing about something similar not too long ago, I said, “When it comes to the bedroom, I’m able to balance being sensual, doting, and romantic with being pretty wicked and dominant when I feel like it. Sex is supposed to embrace all aspects of our personalities, and it’s the one time in our lives when we really have the chance be the person from our fantasies.”

If I can get personal for a moment, I suspect I can break down the evolution of a lover as it should happen for most people, and did happen for me.

As a kid, I was raised Catholic. My parents felt the religion was important, but as with anything in my life, when I believe something, I believe it with a zealous passion. By the time I was seven or eight, I was taking the priest’s sermon and teaching it to the athiest kids in the neighbourhood. At about nine years old, I was seriously thinking I should be a nun when I grew up. Seriously.

Like I said, passionate. In my mid-teens, a few things happened that made me realize that I might believe in the principles of the church, but that the folks who ran it were pissing me off. It didn’t take me long to walk away from it, and within a couple years I began learning about other faiths and realized we’re all in this together. I lost my dogma, and just kept the ethics.

As a result, though, I grew up with a lot of really religious takes on sex. For me, it was a sin. I never had sex until I was 18, and I felt wrong about it for the first two years. It wasn’t fulfilling, not really, despite my enjoying it, because I felt like I was going to be judged by a higher power or something. Around 20, I met a guy who introduced me to bondage, and I lost a few hang-ups then, but I really never got past myself until my mid-20s.

In my late 20s, I took an extended break from sex while I Dealt With Shit, but slowly began to realize I’d been cheating myself and depriving myself. I realized that I’m by nature a very mischevious person, and a person who needs that intimacy in order to feel whole. Why did that never translate to the bedroom, I wondered? Why was I so repressed and such a good-girl lover when I knew I could sometimes be oh-so-very-bad? I decided to force myself to try out the role of the “bad girl” and see what it did for me.

What it did, was get me off. What it also did, was get my lover sizzling hot. That look in his eyes told me he wanted to devour me whole, then and there. I’d never seen such unbridled passion, though I’d always had a fulfilling sex life. What next, though, I wondered? Would he treat me different? Were we going to have a weird situation after this? I realized that depended on me. Would I act normal when it was all said and done, return to the fun, irreverent Steff I knew myself to be? I had to, I decided. I had to see if I could be both.

I did, and I was. I realized then that the lover I was behind closed doors wasn’t the only person I was at heart. I was both. I was, as they say, every woman. Every woman I wanted to be, I could be. I could be bad in order to be good to my lover, and not have that impact who I was on an ethical level.

This is a dilemma I think a lot of people need to come to terms with — that playing games and being bad in the bedroom doesn’t necessarily reflect who you really are. Living out your fantasy version of you is something that can co-exist with your reality. The trouble is simply getting past whatever moral code it is that we’ve had imprinted on us by a society that doesn’t really get the fact that duplicity isn’t always a bad thing.

Have you managed to get past your hang-ups? How did you do it? If you haven’t, are you trying to? Let’s hear it, folks.