my drought is over but i feel worse about myself
Well, I didn’t in the moment. After he came, I felt proud. I conquered him and ripped open gates that were closed for awhile.
Whoa. Mom, don’t read the rest.
I didn’t choose to refrain from sex for as long as I did, but life’s events put it at the back of my mind. Sure I had urges, but entertaining someone felt like a chore. I didn’t want to get to know anyone; I was still sprung on a guy who didn’t love me back; and I developed a chronic illness that made me feel unsexy. I was falling out of love with myself and didn’t want anyone else to see that.
New York was intimidating. How was I supposed to meet anyone? I wasn’t a casual sex kind of girl, though I sorta-kinda-barely delved in that realm while in college. I wanted a relationship; I wanted to feel a connection when we were sexing; I wanted to know this person at least a bit before baring my nakedness. So, I fell into a drought. A year long drought.
Then, a month ago, the flood gates re-opened. I had sex for the first time in little over a year. I felt powerful. I felt sexy and wanted—almost needed. It was really good. And, I’m not just saying that because it had been a year since I last had it. I remember the time before this new experience. Don’t all women? That was good, but this, this was better. We both finished. We tried hard to muffle the noises coming from my room, but failed. He gripped my headboard so it wouldn’t rattle against the wall. I craved this moment and it was finally here. Gripping sheets, straddling, moaning, screaming, trembling, kissing... He wanted to please me and I could tell. “How does this feel?” he’d ask, “right there” I’d tell him.
I sat breathless on the floor after I came, with a single tear in my eye. This was incredible. I felt so liberated. I had recently cut my hair and though I loved my haircut, I didn’t know how men would react to it. He liked it. He said I was beautiful and in that moment I felt invincible.
“Let’s make this a regular thing” I texted him the next day.
“I agree”, he responded.
Clearly, the sex wasn’t what made me feel worse about myself. During it, I felt amazing. When having casual sex, it’s indeed, just casual. There’s barely a connection (a “spark”, if you will) and you both have sex to solely satisfy your needs. That itch I can’t scratch? I know he’ll do it for me tonight… Except no one really says that, but you get the point.
I laid in bed a few days after and thought about our session. I realized I hadn’t really had any after-sex-urges that usually leave me crossing my legs and clinching my thighs throughout the day. Why was that?
I was so eager to get off that I forgot I was in the middle of a young-adult-mid-life crisis. So after the sex, I was where I started. The high of the orgasm wore off and I was back to dreading my day-to-day and being completely confused on where my life was going. I didn’t come out of this situation with him wanting to be mine. Better yet, I didn’t even know who he belonged to. I felt used, but, wasn’t I using him too? I wanted to be craved in every way. I wanted him to want me so badly and didn’t recognize that this could be a weekly occurrence for him, with different women. He doesn’t need me, but it felt like I needed him.
Author’s note: If you’re reading this and have a new sex partner, go get tested. Since I have a platform it’s important to spread awareness and if all I can do is tell you to get tested, that’s enough for me. Let’s break the stigma of getting tested and let’s try to normalize the action of sex in itself.
Am I too emotional for casual sex? Can you separate emotions from sex anyway? Personally, I think it leaves me feeling a little too loose. And without loving yourself wholeheartedly first, casual sex will have you feeling empty, almost worthless. I was wanting this random man to want me. To crave me. To dare I say, love me. But, with him, that wasn’t going to happen. There needed to be a connectedness that wasn’t there from the start.