I got a nasty comment on the blog yesterday. Initially I deleted the real names from it and posted it but then I thought better of it and deleted the whole thing. I traced the IP address and speculated for awhile about who it might be and then.. I just got over it. They sent an apology today, and that was at least kinda nice.
If you share things about the subjects I do, people will think they know you. That’s a good thing most of the time. I bond with some of my readers and I bond with people who write blogs I love too. I love my blogging community. It of course also means that people who are sex negative, anti-non-monogamy, slut shaming, and rude will think they know you.
It did a service to me though. It got me thinking. I’ve had a lot of opportunity lately to respond to people questioning my sexual choices and to think about what I want and what I think is good, moral, acceptable, and okay. It’s healthy to ask yourself sometimes “what do I want from my relationships?” “how do I want to conduct myself?” “What are my beliefs and what is right to me?””.
You know.. I need to remove my shame buttons.
I don’t know exactly where I got them, but I have these triggery little buttons that are easily pushed when it comes to my sexual choices being questioned or derided. I don’t know if it was the years my Dad became a devout Christian and tried to ram Jesus in my throat. Or maybe it was the way I saw women judged for being sexual when I was growing up. Or maybe it’s the way they acted in my high school when I was an experimental girl. I don’t know, but somewhere along the line I got the notion deep inside somewhere that they were right. I am dirty or bad or wrong or icky or immoral when I want, crave and indulge in sex, or too much sex, or not the right kind.
I am an educated woman. I know that’s wrong. Sex is healthy and good. It’s a way to bond and have fun and express love. It is a beautiful act of giving and receiving pleasure. I think it is okay to have sex for fun, for closeness, for intimacy, for love. Most of all I think it’s okay to have sex when I want to.
I think there are limits. I think it’s bad for me to have sex to make people like me or to get something. I think it’s bad for me to use people or to have sex with them when I know it will cause them some kind of harm. I think it’s wrong for me to have sex with someone that can’t consent. I think it’s wrong for me to have sex with someone if I know that it would go against agreements I have with any partners, or to do so unsafely and exposing my partners to risk. (If I did screw up, it’s wrong to have sex with my partners without telling them about the increased risk of sex with me).
So, why do I react so strongly to my ex-boyfriend asking me “how many will be enough” when I hadn’t slept with ANYONE? Why does it level me that my husband slut shamed me for picking up dudes when I was in high school, 21 years ago? And why does it kill me that he kept saying and saying and saying that he was leaving me because my sexuality made him feel unsafe and it’s just that I was so slutty.
There is a disconnect between what I know intellectually to be right and in accordance with my morals and ethics, and what my tender little feelings are afraid of. I keep coming back to this.
-Why do I think it’s so wrong for women to have or love sex?
-Why would I ever allow outsiders, especially people I don’t even know to have opinions about my sexual choices?
I want to be respected and liked and admired. I want everyone to think I’m such a great person and everyone to like me. Dammit. That again? I don’t want to upset people. I don’t want people to say bad things about me. I need to remove those stupid little shame buttons. I need to accept, really accept that I cannot live authentically to myself AND win Miss Congeniality. Some people just ain’t gonna like me. Hell, some people ain’t gonna like me no matter what I do.
I don’t accept people’s homophobia, and I instantly know that they are wrong. I’m not hurt by what they say. They don’t matter because they are so clearly wrong. If I was out with my girlfriend and someone had an issue with us, I’d tell them to go pound salt. I am not ashamed of loving women. It’s just who I am and I don’t worry about people who can’t get it. I need to feel the same about loving sex.
Me loving sex and connection is just part of who I am. I am a sexual being. I control my impulses and have morals and ethics about my sexuality and it’s been a very very very long time since I’ve broken them. I am very choosy and selective, but I love to explore and indulge and enjoy sex with those I’ve carefully chosen. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with my sexuality. I’m not addictive or impulsive. It’s perfectly okay to LOVE sex.
I do have to understand that not everyone will like and accept this. I will get a certain ration of difficulty, judgement and closed minded interactions if I am this way, but it’s a good way to be and I like being true to myself. Much like when I came out as gay and I had classmates make pussy eating hand gestures at me, a couple of guys grab my genitals and tell me I just needed a real man, and church people telling me I’d burn in hell forever if I didn’t repent, well.. this is kinda like that.
For insecure people it can be an easy thing they can fling up in an argument. For random internet trolls it can be a handy insult for when they don’t like what I say, or maybe as they deal with their own stuff in their own private lives. And sometimes, well.. sometimes people just aren’t going to like it. I won’t always fit everyone’s definition of what is OK and acceptable and I need to not care.
To people who are upset that I like women, to people who get weirded out because I don’t drink, to people who don’t like women who are strong or independent or uppity, to people who judge me because I like fucking and I like being spanked and desired and kissed and dominated, to people who dislike my multiple relationships or the frank way I talk about sex: