One of the things that came up in our wide-ranging discussion was how much effort we put into developing new relationships. ?Maymay said that he expects to put eighty to two hundred hours of conversation time into a budding relationship before it even takes off.
At the same time, we?d both encountered former partners who were now happy in vanilla relationships, some of whom were gracious enough to mention that they felt lucky ? lucky that the things they need out of a relationship are widely available, that it takes less work for them to find a partner, and when they find a partner, that it takes less work for them to establish and maintain that relationship.
?The closer your sexuality is to the cultural norm, the more work the culture does for you,? I said. ??There are more people who like the things you like. ?The people who like the things you like share more assumptions, and both of you get more support for your relationship from the majority culture. ?When things don?t work, you?re not told that the reason they don?t work is because what you want is bad, wrong, or impractical.?
Maymay is one of these thrilling conversationalists who speaks in full paragraphs, so I can?t do justice to his side of our discourse. ?But one of the things he expressed was that he sometimes wondered if the emotional resources he had would be equal to the kind of relationships he wanted.
Oh yes: I know that feeling.
?I think that feeling often leads to a sense of despair,? I said. ??That what we have, the resources we have, will never be enough to get us what we want and need.?
I remember feeling that way so many times. ?When I finally decided to pursue the kind of sex I found thrilling, I had one goal:?a full, rich, authentic expression of my own sexuality ? not in my head, not in a fantasy, but in my real actual life.
That? ?Was not easy to come by. ?And now? It isn?t easy to keep. ? I?m glad that my discussion with Maymay gave me a chance to write to you about this, because one of the things that I know is that the way I choose to write about my sex life ? the rules I choose to follow about my partners? privacy and comfort ? has the effect of making it look like my journey towards an authentic sexuality was much easier and less rocky and painful than it really was. ?I also want to acknowledge the many privileges I enjoy; I?m a white, educated, cisgendered married woman, and I am married to a partner who did want to take the journey with me and didn?t run away, shame, or hurt me because of the nonstandard nature of my sexuality.
That?s a lot. ?Really, really a lot.
Even with all those blessings, I remember feeling despair so many times ? that I?d never be able to get across to another human being what I wanted or needed; that when I did, I?d be rejected or ignored, that my sexuality would be treated like a cheap toy that was abandoned after a few plays. ?I thought that maybe the choice I had was that I had to give up the love and the family that I longed for in order to find a way to have an authentic expression of my real sexuality ? and that even if I did make that terrible sacrifice, what if nothing was out there? ?What if I really, truly was the only freak like me, a person whose sexuality would never find any outlet in the real world?
I felt broken. ?I felt angry.
I felt completely exhausted.
I?d tell myself I was spoiled and foolish for spending so much effort, and taking so much risk, and putting myself and the person who loved me the best to so much pain and inconvenience over?what? ?Sex? ?Who cared? ?I was stupid.
I really, desperately, wanted to give up. ?I wanted to stop caring about sex, about sexuality.
And I couldn?t.
I wanted to. ?I really, really, wanted to. ?I wanted it to stop hurting. ?I wanted to stop feeling exhausted. I wanted to stop thinking about it. I wanted to have vanilla sex already and like it. ?I wanted to enjoy all the stuff ? the regular ordinary stuff ? that my life presented me with to enjoy. ?I wanted to stop working so damn hard.
And I couldn?t. ?Every time I thought about it I felt like I was making a choice to amputate one of my limbs. ?I couldn?t make myself stop.
I couldn?t make myself stop caring.
People who are sexually nonstandard ? who are queer, who are kinky, whose sexuality, when expressed, transgresses our culture?s notions of what it means to ?be a woman? or ?be a man? ? experience this kind of despair on a routine basis. ?As I?m sure you are aware, some of them kill themselves. ?Others stay alive and experience real suffering.
I?m not saying that all of us feel that way all of the time. ?And I would completely disagree with any notion that the sexuality of adults interested in consensual sex ? however nonstandard, is a ?problem? or a ?disorder.? ?Too many of us get stuffed in the therapy box, as if somehow all we really need is to talk about how we?re systemically oppressed and we?ll be all better.
We?ll be all better when we get what we need. We?re not asking for the moon. ?We?re asking for a space where we can express who we are as sexual beings without fear, despair, and loneliness. ?In that sense, we want the same stuff everybody else wants (just maybe with more?accessories).?And that will happen a lot faster when the widespread prejudices toward sexually nonstandard people starts to become history.
It?ll start when queer kids stop getting teased on the playground.
It?ll start happening when cops stop raiding parties where my friends are engaging in consensual play.
It?ll start when kinky and queer people don?t worry about getting their kids taken away, or losing their job for being who they are.
It?ll start when my sexuality isn?t considered a funny joke on Letterman, or the backstory of a serial killer on CSI, or something that?s for sale in a sex toy shop.
It?ll start when we?re free.
?
?
?
demi moore hospitalized james farentino somali pirates navy seals navy seal team 6 tim gunn tim gunn
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.