I grew up in a family that you are supposed to abstain from sex until marriage. Obviously she mean only “real” sex, right? Penis-in-vagina sex…that’s what she meant, right? I remember quite vividly hearing “No drugs ever. No alcohol until you’re 21. No sex until you’re married.” My mom says that she remembered hearing a kid say that the reason they did drugs, drank, and got pregnant at an early age is because no one told them not to do it. So she made sure to tell us not to do it. Unfortunately for me, in my hormone filled young brain, somehow that got twisted into “sex must mean that people are in love”. Wow. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I love my mom. and my dad (but he stayed out of those conversations). I know she was trying to do what she thought was going to be best for me and my brother.
I was 15 when I gave my first blow job. I was 16 when I got my first kiss. I was 18 when I got drunk at my house with some friends…about a month before we all left for college when I lost my virginity to a guy in the basement and he bent me over and held me down when I said no.
After my rape, I questioned myself. If I would have just said yes, maybe then we would have been in love. Now I obviously realize that is NOT the way it works, but stick with me. For years, I would give boyfriends blow jobs and sex whenever they wanted it…thinking that they actually cared about me. Then two, maybe three months later, they would break up with me and I would be crushed and heartbroken. But even during that time, I knew I reacted differently from other friends. I enjoyed the sexual aspects of being with another person.
I could go into some long thing about how sex is better with love. But what I I want to think about is how sometimes, I don’t want love…I want sex. Sometimes I don’t want the romantic candlelit dinners and the “I love yous”. Sometimes I want it to be about me orgasming and even getting dominated a little bit. I wanted to feel the closeness, the heat of another person…the passion that can come with knowing what is going to happen.
I have a friend with benefits…the first person I hooked up with after opening our marriage. He’s been a friend of hubby’s for 20+ years…but the sexual tension… that is what I need sometimes. After years of sexual tension, we hooked up. Kissing and fucking. He kissed me with passion and a desire that neither of us could deny. The way his fingers touched me, entered me…I had orgasms in a way that I didn’t know was possible. He took control of the situation without being a threat. It was hot. I knew in that moment that I wanted to fuck him again. Part of what made it fun and exciting was the aspect that it wasn’t about anything except our physical pleasure.
Sex isn’t love. Sex can be about love…but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, sex is just that. Sex.
To me the more important thing is being honest about what we want from others, whether it’s love or sex…it’s fine. Just be honest.
One thought on “it’s not love”
So true. People might be surprised to know that honesty actually saves people from pain more often than not. The truth hurts sometimes but not as much as being deceived or used.