It’s coming up to Valentines Day, that god awful movie about the misogynistic sexual aggressor and the subservient submissive inexperienced girl has just come out (that’s 50 Shades of making sexual abuse mainstream Grey) to you and I.
It seems sex is everywhere.
And maybe everyone is happily romping away – sex aids optional.
For most people they have always had a normal healthy sex life. They probably get the physical pay off of an orgasm. Afterwards they might get on with their day, go back to their assigned seat, go to sleep, drive away, whatever. Life resumes. Flushed faces and satisfied bodies.
I wonder what that’s like.
For me, that’s a movie.
You know how in movies the first time is usually portrayed as a fumbling, awkward but romantic moment between two people that love and care for each other? They might not stay together but they go on to experience sexual relationships with others. Not always mind blowing, but all experiences of choice, mostly desire?
I can only watch that on screens or hear from others. Sometimes. Depending on my capacity to hear. Otherwise the nature might trigger me.
I can’t imagine how it FEELS.
My experiences of sex have been rape by a stranger and ongoing rape and abuse at the hands of an abusive ex. He loved to have the power over me, to tell me he wasn’t like the person that raped me, as me pinned me on the bed and f-cked me while I cried in pain. Who told me off for scrubbing my body. How dare I infer he was dirty? When he was too drunk or too exhausted he would use ‘things’ to shove inside me.
When I finally fell asleep next to him I was awoken often with his hands around my throat. He’d apologise of course. Or I’d wake up with him f-cking me. If I said no, I often had infections from the bruising, he would carry on regardless. Because he wasn’t a rapist he would say, he was my boyfriend. Sometimes I would have to kiss him over and over until he was sufficiently satisfied that I was ‘into it’ and not faking it.
From there sex in a relationship was an endurance. If I met a guy and he wanted it, I felt like a prostitute. Like it was my duty. Better to put out than be forced. Lie back and think of England right?
When I went travelling I didn’t date so it wasn’t an issue.
I didn’t experience desire. I can fancy men and sometimes women but I never feel that deep rooted sexual attraction.
I met my husband 15 or so years ago in the US. We were both travelling. We ended up back in NZ but we both took things slowly.
As it happened we’re both incredibly fertile people! So we’ve been busy having our four children. Children and length of marriage means that bed really is for sleep! There are no expectations.
This time of year is particularly painful. Even touching is hard. I can go through periods any time of the year when the slightest touch can make me want to curl away. The worst is when I don’t like my children touching me.
That is never the impression I would want outside of my private world because who wants to hear about the awkward, frigid wife? I have nightmares about the male anatomy. Sometimes I can cry during sex or get triggered. I feel sore for days after sex. Even after four children, sometimes it’s physically impossible for me to even have sex. I can’t orgasm during sex. I disassociate most of the time. I hate my body. I hate myself ‘down there’ so I don’t like anyone seeing it. And there’s certain acts I won’t allow because they have been ruined for me.
I’m damaged goods.