Darlings, earlier this week I ordered some books. Today some of them arrived at my door. I cannot tell you how excited I am to get started reading them. I’ll give you three guesses as to their subject matter. 1…2…3…
Was one of your guesses sex? By George, you got it!
The night before I ordered these books, I had a less than perfect intimate experience at home. While I thought I was interested in being intimate and physical–and therefore initiated the session–my body just wasn’t responding. Nope. Zilch. Nada. And no matter how much of that slippery liquid from the pink bottle we used, it was just plain uncomfortable for me.
So we stopped.
I was upset. It wasn’t fair. Sex is supposed to be natural. You’re supposed to want to do it, and it’s supposed to feel good, right? Well there must be something wrong with me, because it certainly wasn’t happening that way.
My self-criticism was coming quite easily, even though I may not have been. I should be more easily turned on, I thought, frustrated. I should be responding to how I’m being touched. I’m disappointing my man. I’m not normal. Why can’t what worked last time work now? I’m so difficult and I feel bad that my man has to do so much work. Plus, he should just know how to make me feel good.
Yes, it’s him! It’s all his fault and I’ve made a horrible mistake in moving in with him. He’s not paying close enough attention to my signs. That noise I’m making, yeah that means move over here, duh. Why isn’t he moving? Oh, he is purposefully making me feel bad. That’s it. The man I love is trying to hurt me. And now I’m stuck forever and it will never get better. Harrumph, pout.
So, dear readers, as you can see, there are clearly different parts to this lovely author. There’s some part in me that could actually fathom that my incredible boyfriend would purposefully try to hurt me. And there’s another part that thinks that I am simply not normal sexually. But there is a much, much, stronger part that knows that everything is ok and it will all work out. I love that part of me. She’s always there, but sometimes the other parts are just so whiny it’s hard to hear her.
Because all parts of me need to learn, I ordered a few different books with different perspectives. The one I’m going to start with has a sliced-open papaya on the cover with a banana off in the background. Yep, fruit representing the vulva and the penis. Fruit is the reproductive part of a plant, so it’s not just pretty and juicy and delicious, but also quite apt for the cover of a book about sex.
I’m hoping that after Jon and I both read this first book (about pleasuring a woman without using your penis) we’ll have a common vocabulary with which to communicate about our sex life. Because good sex doesn’t come naturally, you have to learn it. And Jon really wants to be an equal partner in this whole process. And if there are books published about this stuff, I can’t be too far from normal.