DISCLAIMER: THIS POST IS V V SEXY. Parents, other family members, family friends, basically anyone who thinks of me as a sexless and wholesome being, please do not read any further. Ta.
Okay so, I
was utterly thrilled to be a guest on one of my favourite podcasts
recently; F**ks Given, hosted by the formidable Florence and Reed, aka Come Curious, a show that invites guests to chat about ‘all things
sexy’ and smash the taboo that still surrounds sexuality, kinks and 'body counts'.
I
have listened to this podcast since it began, and it wasn’t long
before I started dreaming up my own responses to the questions
Florence and Reed ask their guests. So when we started following each other (as
in, me and @comecurious; the two hosts are @reedamberx and
@florencebark respectively) on social media, I thought ‘OOOHHH, I’m
in!’, and I probably would have been asked if I’d just waited
patiently but noooo, Drunk Me decided one evening that patience was for suckers and
dived right in with a tweet (it went something like ‘I am GAGGING
to be on the show, holy sh*t’). Fortunately, I was taken up on my
offer (/not-so-subtle demand).
 |
| Low key freaking out. |
Well,
I did it. And yes, it was kind of a dream come true (she writes, low
key praying it doesn’t seem totally uncool to the hosts if they get
the chance to read this, oh god). I’ve said it before; I bloody
LOVE talking sex. I can’t pinpoint when exactly I became so open –
it was probably around the time I posted THIS lil thing about the
many joys of, and the ridiculous policing of women talking about,
wanking – but I am so happy about it. I get such positive vibes
(ooh err) from casually discussing sex antics with people I trust
over coffee; having ‘how’s it going for you? Wanna try anything
new?’ check-ins with my partner, and of course I am always honoured to
be an agony aunt to everyone from my closest friends to complete
strangers who slip into my DMs.
Now,
here’s the thing. I thought I had every story sorted for the show;
my last f**k, first f**k, best f**k and worst f**k – and the f**k
that changed me in some way. Actually, I struggled to choose between
the worst f**k stories – the more light-hearted ones, anyway – so
I let the ladies have their pick of three based on simple code words:
Big Dick Sh*t Shag, Arms & Abs, or The Family Friend. (They went
for the first option, which was probably best when I think about the
people involved in the other stories and how big a strop they’d
throw if the audio snippets got to them somehow…)
BUT
thinking back, there are a few things I feel I could have expanded on, edited somewhat or just changed completely. For instance, I might have changed my ‘f**k that changed me’
story. I originally had
three options for that one in my mind when we started recording, and
then in the moment when I had to make a snap decision, I went
for an unlikely one – the very recent story of my boyfriend
watching me shower in the morning, and then wank. I talked about how
I no longer feel pressure to perform,
during sex. There was a time when I’d shriek and moan in what I thought was a super
sexy – and definitely not at all natural – way purely for the pleasure of my
partners; I’d always want them to feel they were doing well, and I
was really and truly having fun. How weird is it that in order to
convince them of that, I would impede my enjoyment!? I used to
focus so hard on looking good and sounding a certain way, that I’d
lose my grip on my own pleasure, and often finish unsatisfied. And let me tell you:
NOT. WORTH. IT.
 |
| We had a knack, it turns out, for not quite syncing our silly faces. |
While that was definitely an
important thing to talk about, in a way I feel I fell short
in my body positive principles a little by not telling a
different story. So I’m rectifying that now! Here’s
option #2 in the 'F**k That Changed Me’ category…
I
was seeing a pretty cute tattoo artist. We’d been on a few dates in
Brighton, and it was the first time I’d gone back to his place. Unbeknownst to him, it was also the first time I’d gone back to
ANYONE’S place since my two tummy surgeries. Since I’d got my
biggest scar, right down my middle. I was very fresh into the body positivity movement at that point, and was slowly but surely
embracing my body after this most recent big change, but I had been
nervous about actually taking my clothes off for someone, and
inviting them to touch this ‘new me’. Well, I needn’t have
worried, because it just wasn’t that big a deal in the end. I did have a
flash of feeling intensely vulnerable when I pulled my dress over my
head, but it soon passed.
I’ve
found that since I’ve got my scars, built up my confidence and
truly accepted and learned to love my body for all it does and what
it’s been through, I’ve felt more sexy. I actually feel a bit sad
for Past Me, who was always so insecure; my ex would comment on how I held myself while we laid
together in bed, how I always had my hands over my tummy or squeezed
my boobs together a bit, and I’d calmly explain that I simply
wasn’t comfortable with certain parts of me. These days, though? I
do not give a shit. Well, I do, but in a positive way. I find myself
sexy, but don’t feel the need to make any extra effort to BE sexy.
You know? And I savour every moment of validation, but not in a ‘I
need the good feedback’ way, in more of a ‘yeah, I know’ kind
of way. Like when I made a guy yell slightly and come way too quickly
as soon as I turned around in bed – he apologised after, and
explained that the view of me from behind was just too much for his
brain(s), and I allowed myself to feel super smug.
*
Now,
for the third option in this 'F**k That Changed Me' category. I want to throw in a trigger warning here!
Because, to give you readers some context, I’d just spoken about my
‘darker’ worst f**k just before this question, and that was
the time I was assaulted.
The
aforementioned assault messed me up for quite a while. Almost three
years, actually. And that bad memory was obviously combined with my
many years of illness and trauma, which I think have, without my
realising until it was too late, made me so self-reliant and
introverted that I didn’t have any room in my mind and my safe
spaces for anyone else.
So I
was struggling to reconnect with my body, and despite longing for
some sexy fun, I was also nervous to go out and look for it. I didn’t
trust anyone I got close to, and actually the few times I DID have
sex, I found I’d be ready and excited for the few seconds until it
properly ‘started up’, and then I’d suddenly be overcome with
sadness and actual resentment for the person who was f**king me. In
that moment, as they touched me and did a lot of the things I used to
enjoy, I would hate them a bit. I still can’t work out why; because I
felt they were taking something from me, maybe? Because I felt I was giving
myself over to them, and lowering my normally sky-high walls? Yes. Definitely. Try as I might, it was almost impossible to
open myself up to anyone again. I started to feel like a fraud, when
I gave friends advice and shared sex stories; there were only two
people I confided in about my true feelings, and even then it was
right at the end of my unhappy three years.
Then
along came Hands (as he’s known on social media). I won’t bore
you with my gushing about our ridiculous movie-moment meet-cute, and
lovely first couple of dates, I’ll just say that I had a very good
inkling about this guy. I was immediately comfortable, and felt I could be myself in his company. When we started having sex, I felt more
relaxed than I had in ages. I even found myself staying naked with
him for a little while afterwards – whereas for the past three
years I’d been hurriedly getting redressed as soon as I could,
usually when I ran to the loo for my post-sex pee (which FYI, is the best
way to avoid UTIs, my fellow vagina owners!). I even opened up a
little more, after the third or fourth time, and touched lightly on
what I’d been through and what I wouldn’t want to do, etc. It’s
amazing how quickly I settled into a partnership with this one; how
easy it felt, despite everything that’s happened to me and how
closed off I’d become.
The
specific f**k that changed me, though? One particular time, early on
in the sexual relationship, we were going hard and fast, the fire
was raging, and then as we both climaxed, I grabbed onto him and urgently gasped his name. Upon hearing this he paused and, obviously concerned,
asked ‘what??’ and I said breathlessly:
‘I… really like you.’
Yes,
I know it’s cheesy as f**k, but let me tell you, after years of
distance and longing and numbness and frustration, that was a HUGE
moment. It was when I opened up again. And then, as if the involuntary declaration of liking wasn't enough of a sign, I think it was the next time we f**ked, my favourite song came on shuffle afterwards, as we lay there naked. I hadn't actually listened to that song in years without feeling upset, because I'd heard it sung live for the first time the night I was assaulted. I really felt the universe pulling me into a hug, then; I heard it murmuring gently in my ear 'you're okay, now'.
Positively glowing after all the sex talking.
Something
else I didn't get to say properly while we recorded the podcast was
how grateful I am, not just because I was given the opportunity to
feature in an episode, but
because this show is one of my absolute favourites; the sex
positivity is beautifully refreshing, I love how different every
guest is and am amazed at how much it teaches me every week. Also,
the gals’ voices are friendly and comforting while also sexy as
f**k!? Ooofftt. I hope their platforms continue to grow,
blowing minds (and other things) in the process.
Oh damn, I also wanted to somehow shoehorn in that I give great blowjobs. Because I do. Just FYI. Ask anyone!
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