A sex blog? Really.
Really, a sex blog. Not that surprising consider how interested I have been in sexuality these past few years. Not that it’s a recent interest, either, just an exponentially growing one.
I remember when I was younger, in middle school, I would spend the night at my best friend’s house. I wold tell stories of a teenaged girl with her skirt too short who snuck out of her bedroom window at night to meet in something of a fort with her older boyfriend. After, she’d boast of her sexual adventures to her friends, showing them the physical signs of her escapades: bruised, scratched and inflamed skin.
Th stories were largely inspired by the movie Fear, a sort of sexual thriller/horror schlocky piece starring Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon. The male character was based on an older male friend, with whom we both were taken for a short while. I assume we bought imagined the female character to be an extension of ourselves.
At the time, neither of us were sexually active and although we may have thought about it and wondered what it was like – I know I did – I don’t think either of us actually wanted to participate in it, yet.
I spent many of those years and even my younger ones obsessing about sex or, rather, what I thought sex meant and entailed. My assumptions were based on the images and ideas forced on my by the media: television movies and books. Music didn’t seem to hold all the innuendos that it currently does.
Although I understood the mechanics of sex, I don’t think I understood what a complex issue it was. I still felt that my interest was something shameful and although I had been masturbating since before I was a tween, I wasn’t comfortable discussing it. Sex was, simultaneously, something slightly unnatural and shameful as well as something I greatly yearned to be having so that I could join that special club.
My younger self viewed sex as something teenagers were having who were in highschool. It was a social status, something that set them apart. I envisioned my own sexuality as a way to be accepted; if I could prove myself attractive and appealing perhaps I would not have so many issues as I had with my body and appearance, especially my weight. Maybe this would give me an edge over those who would otherwise beat me in every other way.
Could sex really do that for me? Perhaps. I suspect that the thoughts I were entertaining would eventually have led to some sort of downfall and ultimately and even poorer self image than the one I had, as is normal for those who try to validate themselves by being sexually active.
Although erroneous, my thought pattern is typical, I think, especially for young teenaged girls. Sex is a complex and confusing activity about which we’re rarely given the right information at the right time (younger, really is better).
Unfortunately, the realities of sex and the extremes portrayed in the media are often not one in the same. Sex is rarely perfect, often messy and sometimes a disappointment. It’s not always the most wonderful thing in the world nor is it awful, traumatic and debilitating. Sex doesn’t always involve months of romantic planning nor is it always spontaneous (and still perfect!). I think sex is often somewhere in the middle, something Hollywood would never want to admit to.
The reality is that the scope of human sexuality is something far grander than I ever could have imagined at that point and sex is never “always” something. Every time is different and every time offers a new opportunity to learn, to experience and to grow.
Sure, some people will boat their exploits as a way of showing status but, when it comes down to it, there are not the type of people I would choose to associate with and that is not the type of attitude that will get me anywhere.