Two sexual cents.

I was reading Dr. Mike’s blog, and I came across his reaction to an entry about sex on GoingGoingGone’s blog.

Er, okay. Everybody likes what they like, and are entitled to disliking what they dislike.

Me, I like sex. Love it, in fact. No big. My life doesn’t revolve around it or anything, but it’s a huge part of who I am, and I won’t be a hypocrite about it. If my lover told me, “Come over to my place later honey, I have the house to myself and I want to tie you to the bedposts for a couple of hours while I do unspeakably pleasurable things to your helpless body,” I’d be there in a flash (which I was, couple of days ago — there in a flash AND pleasured unspeakably).

In this part of the world, though, where people stare at you like you murdered babies or something if you so much as say the word “sex” above a whisper, it’s not easy to speak your mind and be who you are. So it takes some doing to be forthright about my views on sex. Some people, men in particular, think you’re a slut if you actually have something to say about sex, and you say it. Oh well. Whatever.

Other folks don’t enjoy sex that much, and that’s their thing. Just respect that, right? Goodness knows, there’ve been times when hand-holding and a silent, rock-solid hug were the order of the day.

What’s most important, I suppose, is having the freedom to choose whether you have sex a lot or a little, with the person you want to do it with (provided they want to do it with you too!).

I don’t know why there’s a moral distinction between people who don’t have a lot of sex or don’t talk about it and those of us who do indulge and talk about it freely, but are good persons all around, though. Why do people judge you for your opinions and the fact that you express them? Almost all the time it’s because they don’t like what you’re saying; it makes them uncomfortable to hear what you have to say.

One thing that really burns my biscuits when it comes to discussions of sex is how so many men have this stupid double standard: they’ll screw around all the time, but they have to marry the naive, innocent virgin. There has to be “the one you bring home to Mother”. What a crock. What egotistical, macho dinosaurs. Feh.

Good thing my lover prefers intelligent, strong-willed, passionate women… I’ll never have to pretend I’m something I’m not, nor will I have to concoct outrageous schemes or invent sides to myself to attract him or keep his interest.

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2 Comments

  1. shepherd said,

    Sunday, April 9, 2006 at 2:56 pm

    I have always enjoyed strong women.

    I just hate to see a wife turn to her hubby for even the simplest decisions.

    Some of them remind me of a scared mouse and I feel sad for them.

  2. miranoriel said,

    Sunday, April 9, 2006 at 9:35 pm

    Oh, I've been there and done that. Did it for quite a while, too. Lost my self-esteem, self-respect and everything else I valued about myself, and turned into a groveling, colorless ghost.

    THAT relationship is over, and I've come full circle to who I truly am, and I like who I see when I look in the mirror.  I've done my searching and fearless moral inventory, and I dare anyone who has a beef with me to do the same.
    And I do believe a number of other people appreciate my return from the dead as well. 🙂


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