sexuality

This Chastity Belt Makes My Ass Feel Good

I used to be one of those people who felt that sex was as much of a necessity as wine for one’s mental well-being and overall joy, and if you know me you’ll know, I’m a firm believer in wine’s healing powers. Nights where one found both wine and sex were divine, if only for two hours, before you began to miss your own bed and got tired of the stench of whiskey coming from the body next to you and if you’re really unlucky, the repeated “I swear this never happens, I’m just tired,” from said body. I recall having a conversation with a friend and me pointing out that I hadn’t had sex that week and I wasn’t sure how I was functioning. [It was a Tuesday, that day, mind you.]

I don’t think myself a nymphomaniac, not even close, I just had a certain love for the act that made me want to indulge, often. Whether out of boredom, desire or a suppressed feeling of necessity. I was a younger, sexier version of Dr Eve, if I do say so myself, and I oozed sensuality.

A little sexpot, if you will.

lola-bunny

When I saw someone I liked

Something absolutely wondrous happened then though: I got too busy, too distracted, to maintain a sex life. Please note that as I type this there’s a certain level of horror I would like to get across. I’ll need you to clutch your pearls and throw your hands up in disbelief. Think Marilyn Monroe turning into Hilary Clinton.

For the first few weeks I simply forgot to desire sexual gratification from another human being. Honestly, when I got down to crunching numbers, the effort time and effort it would take to set up liaisons, prepare and travel just didn’t seem worth it. Now here you might say “Well, honey, maybe you jut didn’t have anything worth travelling to,” and I can’t dispute that, really. That’s a possibility.

Or “Well, maybe you’re just lazy now,” and that too, might ring true. I might know why and simply refuse to dig it out of my subconscious.

I can tell you this however; Too much bad sex will make you too lazy to seek out sex, period.

Bottom line, a fortnight turned into a month and that turned into way longer than I would have been able to accept could be true, a while ago. I became [voluntarily?] celibate.

The most shocking bit being: I was okay with that.

My sex drive simply went away. She started visiting less and less and one day, just stopped cumming at all, and I was fine with that.

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She came and left

It’s weird when you thought you based most of your character on your sex[ual] experiences/life, or when you’ve been told that, and one day you’re simply okay with not getting any.  I went from thinking sex was like water to considering it flavored water that comes in a 1.5l bottle, I mean, I can get it if I wanna but I don’t need it. And on I went, uninvolved, unfucked and uninterested.

 

Yesterday I felt good. I had on a long, beautiful red dress and an equally bright outlook on things.  A girl I encountered asked me why I was happy “You’re like.. glowing, dude,” she said and when I told her I was simply happy, for no reason, she said “You’re lying, you got some.”

Two things irritated me about that statement.

1. I’ve never been known to lie about sex, because I don’t.

2. Why would she think one could only be ecstatic when one is sexually satisfied?

Of course I then informed her that I in actual fact haven’t been touched by another in ages and simply have no desire for the act and her response again ticked me off: “What? Oh man, what a shame!” See, here, I desperately wanted to address the fact that I felt she might have been bothered because I used to have an “overly familiar” relationship with her ex which might have interfered with their relationship but I tried to avoid the issue. No use starting something you don’t want to be a part of. 

Being on the receiving end, however, of comments I later realized I’ve made countless times over the past couple of years made me realize what an annoying twat I must have sounded like. While I marveled at the insurmountable number or times I’ve sounded like a douche I said the words I never would have dreamed I would: “On the contrary, it’s actually quite comfortable. Once you realize that sex really isn’t as huge a deal to you as it once was, you act accordingly and adjust your lifestyle to it. It’s simply not a necessity to me and there’s nothing sad about that. What would be sad would be for me to keep fucking if I didn’t want to.”

 

I’ve been thinking it over.  There’s no fun in doing what you don’t want to do. There’s no joy in forced interactions. Whether it be because you simply feel overworked, insecure or simply uninterested, if you don’t want to, you don’t.  And as much as we live in a society fixated on one’s appeal and ability to turn somebody else on and satisfy them, it’s nothing to be ashamed of if you don’t want to do it.

Sometimes you have better things to do than fuck.

Sometimes you simply don’t want to. And that’s perfectly alright.

 

It’s not about them, it’s about you. Always. 

Nymphomaniac I: Part 1, The Lessons and Formative Years

Nympho

“As a young nymph, it was imperative for me to get rid of my virginity,”  These are the words of Joe, the protagonist in Lars Von Trier’s oddly controversial Nymphomaniac.   

Nymphomaniac: Vol I and II tell the story of Joe, a self proclaimed nympho/sex addict.  Far from being the seedy low budget smut, one would expect it to be based on the title, it is in fact a rather honest, eye opening depiction of Life through the eyes of an insatiable woman, and the experiences one goes through.

Nymphomaniac I:Joe’s story begins.

She’s found beaten half to death close  to an alley by an elderly man, Seligman.

Already?” I think. “Shit’s gone bad for her already? Jesus, is this one of those movies that depict the downfall of promiscuous women? Cos I’m not here for that.”

She refuses medical attention and instead  goes to his apartment to lay down and have a cup of tea with milk. [No, really.]

Here, her story unfolds.

 

She is not “just another girl with daddy issues”.  On the contrary, Joe has a rather close and warm relationship with her father, they bond as he tells her stories about trees. Her mother, however, is described as “cold” and often, a “cunt” [You’ll come to find, it’s not a dirty word in the movie] .   She “discovers” her vagina when she’s 2, and as she grows with a female companion known only as B, they discover the different ways in which the female genitalia can provide and feel pleasure.

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“Perhaps the only difference between me and other people is that I’ve always wanted more from the sunset. More spectacular colors when the sun hits the horizon. That’s perhaps my only sin,” she muses.  Giving the impression that there is no real shame to the life that she has lived.  She is not burdened by society and religion’s  view of the “Unholy” woman.

“Are you insisting that children are sinful?” asks Seligman.  To which she responds in a childlike voice “Not children, me.” So maybe things aren’t exactly what they seem, for her.  It is not shame that cripples her internally, not at all, but she is fully aware of her own misgivings.

She grows and is drawn to her vagina.

Curious.

Understand that  when you really start taking note of your vagina and it’s workings, appearance, feelings, it’s amazing.  As a child I personally was intrigued by it.  How simply complex it was.  Why it was a secret.  So Joe’s desire to know more, and experience more regarding it resonated with me.

She loses her virginity in a rather inelegant manner, as  most of us have, methinks, but will never admit.  A young Joe considers her target sophisticated because he as a Moped and quite bluntly asks him “If I asked you to take my virginity would that be a problem?”

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He doesn’t turn her down, and proceeds to penetrate both her vagina and anus [NO LUBE! Christ, the savagery].  Now, I wouldn’t go so far as agreeing with Asa Akira’s sentiments that it’s really practical to just lose them both at the same time since the first time for both is always rather uncomfortable. But It would make sense to lose them.. close together.  Not on the same day though, unless if you can take both your holes being sore.

He’s clumsy, swift and really, a terrible lover.

He is Shia LaBeouf, playing Jerome.

“It hurt like hell. I swore I’d never sleep with anyone again. But of course that only lasted a short while.” Oh honey, don’t we know it?

Years later, with her friend B, again, she really cums into her own regarding her sexuality, so to speak.  Young, dizzy and eager, they go out dressed provocatively on a quest.  To fuck as many men on a train as possible, winner gets a packet of sweets. No, really.

BJ

It’s not shocking, really. Not in the least. When you’re young and sexually active, stuck in that weird place where you think you’re an adult yet still have the urge to act young and stupid, things happen.

Everything up to this point had passed without so much as an eyebrow raise from me.  But when you watch the movie, you note that Joe looks rather young.  Skinny, lanky, simply childlike.  She could be a model if she were taller.  But it’s still evident that she’s a girl. This however, doesn’t hinder the men she manages to “seduce”.  Men twice her age still  fuck her, and this is not an issue for them, in the least.

The fact is a girl who thinks she can act like a woman will be treated as such by those who know better.

“I discovered my power as a woman and used it  to my advantage without any concern for anyone else.”  It’s funny that she would have guilt over this, yet understandable.  Society doesn’t condition us to do so and therefore doesn’t condone it. With that in mind, whether we know it or not, many of us internalize society’s perceptions and opinions and use them to gauge whether or not we are “good” people.

This is a recurring theme  throughout her telling of her story and the subsequent conversations with Seligman.

Joe

Is she a good person? 

What IS a good person? 

She’s adamant that she’s a horrible being, but he constantly has a counter argument that suggests that possibly, she is too harsh on herself.  They represent both sides of the conversation when it usually comes to issues dealing with promiscuity, and life really.

Are you bad? Or simply a person who’s reacted to circumstances as your Spirit saw fit?

B and Joe start a club: “The Little Flock”.   A group of sexually emancipated/promiscuous girls who’re seemingly, anti love.

The Little Flock

“It was rebellious,” she says. “We were committed to combating the love fixated society”.

But B lets the girls down when she falls in love. It’s a betrayal to the Flock. A betrayal to the inner vixen who vows never to experience true intimacy.

This is the first time that affection, love, attachment taints sex for her.

“You think you know everything about sex.

The secret ingredient to sex, is love.” says B.

“For me love was just lust, with jealousy added,” muses an older Joe.

And this is all before Varsity.

It’s amazing the lessons one learns when they jump headfirst into “maturity” and “adulthood”, blindly.  Having personally lost my virginity at 12, I completely related to Joe’s experiences.  By the time you get to Varsity, you’re weirdly both naive and relatively mature.  I loved how the story was told in a purely matter of fact manner.

She was not a “victim”.

She had no “daddy issues”.

She chose to do as she pleased with her body and faced the consequences and lessons as they played out.

There was no shame to being promiscuous, she simply was.

 

*This is the first in a series of posts to follow.

**Also, something I noted. B and Joe’s initials together is : BJ. Ha.

 

 

Novacane

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” – Buddy Wakefield

I remembered this as I lay underneath someone recently, my body being dragged and used any which way. And I felt old and worn down by the whole thing.

I used to adore rough,aggressive sex. I would like to believe I still do and that time, it just wasn’t done right, or it wasn’t with the right person, or I wasn’t in the right mood.

Something.

Something simply wasn’t right.

The next morning, the bruises that I used to look at with pride were an annoyance. As were the bite marks and any sign, really, that the act had occurred.

I realized, there’s an art to rough sex.

You can feel the difference between a lover who ravages you, while still being mindful and making sure that you’re both satisfied and comfortable, and one who simply wants to use you like a rag doll.

And possibly, when I first realized that I was a sub, before I knew what I know now, I let some lovers release their frustrations and use me as a stress ball because I felt that was how affection and appreciation was shown. Maybe because I thought one could FIND affection in the one who brings them peace, whatever the reason, I can no longer recall it and so see no reason to let it continue.

My views on sexual performance are pretty simple:

If I’m getting naked for you, appreciate it and treat my body well. 

If you get naked for me, I appreciate it and will treat your body well.

Experience has taught me that we don’t all view it the same way.  Possibly due to the fact that sex is so easily attainable and people seem to value exclusivity, most feel no need to make it a memorable experience for their partner, even if it’s just for one night.

Sex is usually really a trial run for me anyway, but even during that trial run, one gives their all. I don’t believe in the “It’s only once so it doesn’t REALLY have to be good” excuse.

If you want to be bad in bed, go fuck yourself.

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And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

After reading this.

And a heated Twitter rant here.

Came the following:

And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like sluts, I fuck.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got Beyonce chilling in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like Rihanna gets high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Are you into BDSM?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Are you seeking a sub?

Don’t you take it awful hard,

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got Gaga sashaying in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

You may try to read me,

But still, like Lindsay Lohan, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got the fountain of Youth at the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise I’m a vast ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling

Leyomi dropping and sashaying,

I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise

So don’t be a bitch, dear

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the closeted and queer.

I rise

I rise

I rise

 queer

I’m disappointed.

I’m ashamed.

And I can’t say I’m shocked but sometimes, I still marvel at society’s ignorance.

This is one of those times.

Oh so Slutty

Somewhere along the line we decided only women who had experienced some sort of trauma or difficulty in Life could enjoy sex.  Daddy issues, molestation, underlying hatred for their mothers and a need for attention were all reasons why a woman may choose to “act out” sexually [and by “act out” I mean own her sexuality].  The idea was sold and bought by many. 

I used to run to “Daddy issues” when asked about my rather colourful sexual history. It wasn’t enough to say “I have sex with people because I want to”, it didn’t sit well with me either, at a time when I was afraid to be shamed and was only accepting of myself when alone. I had the confidence to have sex but not enough to wear my sexual freedom proudly. At the end of the day, when questioned about it, it always seemed easier and less shameful to play the victim. To seem helpless instead of admitting that I had simply done what I wanted to do.

As I’ve grown I’ve met a lot of women just like me. 

Women I’d share glasses of wine and sob stories with.

“My father was never home so that’s why I have sex with a lot of men. I need acceptance from a male figure. Any male figure.”

“My father cheated on my mother so I could never be faithful.  I’m doing to men what he did to her.”

“I don’t have a father so fuck men.. I’ll treat them how I want.”

And it all makes sense on some level, but for how long?

 

Eventually I had to realize that I couldn’t continue to blame my father for my actions/desires. I was too old and too intelligent for that. After a while playing the victim became redundant and I could not claim to be strong, responsible and in control if I couldn’t even own and admit to the things I did/wanted to do. 

The process of truly owning your sexuality isn’t a flawless one. It isn’t swift either. It involves dispelling myths and unlearning a lot of shame that has been instilled in us as we grow and that is hardly ever easy.  You have to know WHY you think as you do, what it means for your actions and behaviour and how to proceed from there. 

We can’t all be Samantha Jones, and I doubt even she was Samantha Jones from the very moment she became sexually active. It takes a lot for the average woman to say “I fuck because I want to and fuck you if you have an issue.” The society we find ourselves in isn’t often accepting of that. You’ll be called all sorts of names, often. You’ll be disrespected often. You’ll get “Who touched you?” more than you’d like to and a lot of people will look at you as an anomaly. 

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To be a proud, sexually emancipated woman often leaves one lonely.

Other women may not want to interact with you because they, in their repressed state, believe you’re a Sex Demon from Hell sent forth to test their relationships. 

Men will treat you like an accessible porn star.

And both groups will, to a certain degree, shun you.

Because in this society, a woman who enjoys her sexuality is defined by it. She becomes it in people’s eyes. 

She is a walking, talking vagina.

A creature that does more fucking than living.

Jezebel.

A nymph. 

And knowing this, I understand why many choose to be seen as weak individuals who’re ran by their insecurities and fears instead of simply a woman who likes to have sex.

When they think you can’t help it, society is a tad bit more forgiving. The insults less creative. They’ll call you a silly slut but maybe, in your mind, the “silly” before the “slut” shows some kind of compassion. 

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Understand that the same people making you feel ashamed of your desires really add nothing to your Life, so why let them take?

I can tell you this, I’ve never been broken or truly hurt in any way by the name calling.  

They are words.

Words spoken by people who lack the emotional maturity and intelligence to understand “choice” and “desire”.

Words by people who don’t respect you.

So why is their opinion relevant?

Why  are you letting their tiny brains dictate and keep you from your joy?

Fuck them. 

Fuck them all, honey. 

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My Milkshake, My Instinct and my Yard

I adore seduction. There’s a certain intensity when it comes to interacting with someone you want to sleep with and yet haven’t, that’s unparalleled. At that point in time, you’re your most alert, your most charming, and they are too. It’s an electric time where the simple lingering touch of another’s hand or a look with a coy smile could provide more satisfaction than an actual kiss at that moment. I love the suspense, the charm, the sheer brilliance of the simplest of moments.

The romance with the blatant sexuality. 

I always say I have no idea how to flirt. In actual fact, I’m not really sure HOW I attract people, I like to think I give off a certain Angelina Jolie-esque smoldering gaze but I could be wrong. For all I know, when I’m being truly honest with myself, my seduction process is basically me squinting a lot as I turn my head to look interested and drop a lot of sexual innuendo in conversation. Tell me that’s not brilliant..

I find I prefer to seduce rather than attain [in the relationship sense]. To be fairly honest, most of my sexual conquests are out of sheer curiosity. I meet people and wonder what they look like when they cum, how their hands may feel, what they might like or want to try, and based on that, I pursue them. It’s more about satisfying my curiosity than actual lust.

There are lovers who are wide eyed when they brush their fingers against your lower lip and you suck them. Those who are pleasantly surprised when you’re the one slipping their hands into your pants and those who simply want you to pretend to make love to them.  Lovers who tentatively traipse into bed with you, with hidden desires and fears, expecting the same routine only for you to show them that it’s okay to be free. To help them explore that side of themselves, even if it’s only for one night, as it usually is.

And sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, it worries me that I sample people in bed the way one might try exotic dishes. 

After one such encounter recently with a friend, he began to avoid me and when I confronted him about it, he said it’s because he thought I might expect more from him. Truth be told I got a healthy, hearty laugh from that one and had to sit him down to explain that no, in fact, I expect nothing more from him and as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t really happen and no, it isn’t such a big deal. Besides, he has a girlfriend who I consider beneath me so dating me, God forbid, would probably wreck his brain. 

He was confused, still is, and is currently convinced that there must be something wrong with someone who isn’t seeking anything from anyone else in that way.  It’s odd to him that no, I don’t want to be loved romantically, nor do I really need an orgasm most times. 

I could simply be looking for experiences and nothing more. This could just be a phase. 

And if it isn’t, I could be Sharon Stone’s character in  Basic Instinct, in the making.

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Mama said

  1. Never show a man you love him too much. They will see this and take advantage of it knowing you won’t leave.
  2. Never love a man too much i.e more than yourself. He can never give you more than you can give yourself for as long as you can.
  3. When you cook maize meal, add a bit of salt and oil.
  4. Your marriage won’t be worth much if your partner isn’t worth much. If you insist on settling down, let your partner build you.
  5. Take care of your body. Especially your figure and your skin. Your whole appearance as a Woman shows how you feel about yourself and has the power to give you the confidence you need.
  6. Buy attractive lingerie for yourself, not to show it off to someone else.
  7. Family is everything. Friends come and go but if you find those worth keeping, do so. 
  8. Never let another person steal your joy. 
  9. Buy pretty bedding.
  10. Sometimes you need to pray. [Or as I call it, Talk to the Air.]

 

Sound advice, she’s tried.

 

But as I found myself thinking about my future children, especially my daughters, I grew distressed trying to figure out what to teach them and how.

See, I believe my mother didn’t teach me what I feel my daughter should know. And I understand why. For her, some of the greatest lessons have come about through trial and error and being reactive to certain situations which, probably could have been avoided had one of us been proactive, but I understand because she isn’t as vocal as I am and hope to be by the time I have kids. 

She didn’t tell me that boys would lie until I’d already been lied to and led down undesirable paths in the name of Love.

She didn’t prepare me for the emotional Beast I’d become once a month when my hormones kick in.  The Education system failed me here too. Y’all just made it seem like a bit of bleeding, not cramps that feel like a kick to the vagina resulting in what looks like a Spartan battlefield on a good/bad day. The anger, emotional texts to Ex’s [although that could just be me] none of that.

She didn’t tell me that as a female, you’re a walking target. I guess I understand why. My mother doesn’t really see things the way that I do. She still victim blames, I admit, but a lot of her generation does. Also, I doubt she would have wanted me to grow up looking over my shoulder expecting to have something happen but, I feel it’s something every girl should know. Rather rob them of their childhood with honesty than have them end up in a situation far worse because they were naive.

Pregnancy scares. We don’t discuss those obviously. I doubt we ever will, but I want to with my daughter. I guess we’ll squeeze it into the Sex Talk.  One of the few times we discussed pregnancy I brought up abortion and my mother was mortified. “We don’t kill what God creates” she said. I laughed and said those are her views and we’d need to be logical and consider whether bringing a child into the world would be the best thing. She said I was speaking like the Devil, which amused me. I know though that I don’t want my daughter feeling obligated to keep a child because of emotional blackmail. I want her, should she find herself in that position, to make an informed decision.

She never told me to know when to leave a man, I found that out the hard way.  

I learned that one should avoid patriarchal men like the plague out in the world too. My daughter will know the same. Although I guess the “Have a partner who builds you” part covered that.

Cook because you want to, not because you have to, for someone else. I hate that. Having to interrupt your time of doing Peaceful Nothing to fix a meal for someone who’ll probably decide it’s not worth it and sleep by the time you’re done. 

I believe Sundays are peaceful. For solitude and everything else you want. Sundays are Selfish days, to be worshiped. I’ll tell my daughter. 

Mama always wanted a happy family that bonds over dinner and cooks together and laughs all the time and such. We are the exact opposite. She knows her children love her but I always tell her, personally, I don’t feel the need to always be in my family’s presence. I spend a fair amount of time alone and there isn’t anything wrong. She says it’ll lead to me being in an unhappy household, I tell her I don’t want to raise kids  who are dependent on another person for comfort, it’s simply how I am. 

I drink quite a bit. I drink when I’m sad, when I’m happy and when I’m excited. No, it isn’t as often as you may think, but beer, wine, straights, they all get a pass with me. And no I don’t get sloppy drunk unless I’m home and with close friends, and even then, I never want to because I always want to know everyone is alright. My mother drinks a few glasses of wine every two months and thinks I’m an alcoholic. Dear Future Daughter, drink if you want to, just don’t be a fuck up.

Religion. If you haven’t figured it out by now, she’s religious. Christian. I was once, and then I read too many books and thought too much to continue believing in a White man in the Sky and virgins giving birth to Saviors. I hope my daughter isn’t religious, I won’t lie. Spiritual, yes please. But that’s her choice to make. 

Sexuality. I’m guessing you can figure out mother’s views on that. Marriage, monogamy, kids, the basics. I still have to explain to her how gay people have sex sometimes when she’s drunk and curious but thank god she’s not a homophobe. I want my daughter to do with her body as she pleases, to own herself.

I will stress the importance of an education. Not just degrees, they’re nice, but to be smart and know the world, understand people, understand yourself. Nothing’s more depressing than a person with a degree and an empty head, there’re too many running around.

I want her to know she’s always stronger than she knows and sometimes, than she wants to be, and her mother was too. 

I want her to know that Love is everything. And true Love, for anything or anyone, should never leave you feeling Less Than in anyway. 

And that mistakes happen and there is no shame in Living. 

I hope I raise a little Warrior. A beauty. An Amazonian Princess honestly. A woman who could have held her own had she been born in Sparta. Someone like Cleopatra. One who walks with pride and is firm in her knowledge of Self and depends on no none, needs no one, who isn’t worth it. I hope I raise a Queen who unfortunately, will know loneliness because those of her kind will be rare in society, but I know she will seek out and find comfort in like minded people.

I know a fair amount of the lessons will come about as me being reactive too. I realize that with parenting. I appreciate what my mother has taught me and what she kept from me, she was doing the best she could and I will do the same. Maybe one day my daughter too will point out what I could’ve taught her but didn’t. And that’s alright.

The whole point of relationships is to learn. My mother has taught me and I have taught her. Lessons I hope we both spread out into the world. 

Lessons of Love. 

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Getting Bi

“I don’t understand bisexual people. They’re greedy. Unnatural too. How can you be attracted to both sexes? No. It’s just wrong.”

Every morning I wake up and wish people wouldn’t speak unless they had something worth listening to to say. Every morning I realize people cling on to their ignorance with all they have.

Is it wrong for me to think there’s a slight case of homophobia coming from those who are against bisexual people? Because the issue isn’t that you’re a woman attracted to men, it’s that you’re a woman attracted to men, AND women, or vice versa in the case of bisexual males. 

Personally I’ve always known I was attracted to both sexes. It’s never been taboo to me because growing up I just was, what society told me was right/wrong only really became a factor later on in life and even then, as I reached my teens, I found myself quite resistant to having my desires  placed in a box by people I considered bland.

As I’ve grown I’ve encountered all kinds of people. The “You can’t be bisexual, you’re Black, that’s a White thing” people. The “You probably just want an excuse to be a whore” people.  The “Oh..That’s dope. Call your other friends who’re like you and let’s have a threesome” men, there’s never a shortage of those. And mostly the “No, you’re confused. You just need the right man” people. 

How hard is it to understand that as you love a man, another man loves another man? As you love a woman, another woman loves another woman? What you see in their sex, another of the same sex does too. What is so mind blowing about affection? What about attraction can’t be explained?

I’ve found that it’s harder to be a bisexual male than a female though.  Bisexual females are considered freaks, nymphs. Very few people have an issue with them. Due to the fact that masculinity is basically placed next to Godliness by most people, the moment a male even exhibits any sign of comfort with his desires/habits other men are quick to label him effeminate, and bash him because of his “bitch like” behaviour. I mean, we’re the generation that decided we could determine a person’s sexual orientation by what colour shoes he wears. 

I have very few straight friends. Most of them are either bisexual, gay or lesbian. It’s not that I went and handpicked them based on their sexual orientation, it’s just that they have a better understanding of things, tolerance, they are way more open minded than a lot of the straight people I know and when it comes to the growth process, I’d prefer to have people around me who will understand and reassure when it’s necessary rather than those who will tell me how I “should” be.

I had someone at some point come to me and tell me “You have too many gay friends” to which I responded “You have too many straight friends.” He was rather hostile to all the people I brought around and I figured out why but waited for him to tell me. Eventually he got drunk and tearfully told me he was bisexual, although his attraction to males was stronger than his attraction to females, but was forced to act straight because he feared rejection from his friends, family and fan base [He’s a rapper]. I understood why and I promise you after we discussed it and he realized I was rather uninterested in judging him for the man he is, he was, and still is, noticeably happier. 

I wish a lot of people understood from an early age that most people are simpletons. They do not think because they think it’s not their place to. They do not accept what’s new unless everyone else does and nobody’s ever willing to be the pioneer when they know they will face resistance. People are quick to live by a book written thousands of years ago but will never look into the history of those who actually LIVED thousands of years ago. They don’t want to believe homosexuality predates their religious doctrines. That there were other civilizations other than the ones they write about. It’s too much for them to consider.

There’s nothing unnatural about how you are. Ignorance is unnatural as far as I’m concerned. There is no reason to feel shame for who you are. None. There is no deity who will detest you for being as you are if you believe you’re it’s creation and were made in it’s image. There is no “tolerant, loving” religion that will not let you be. There is nothing new nor different nor unacceptable about you. 

As the saying goes though “there’s nothing new under the sun”. We should accept that there will always be people who will not be willing to let others live as they please, even if it harms no one. There will always be those who will refuse logic and want to live as they’ve been told to. But they have nothing to do with you. Be. Just be. As I like to say, shame is for the ugly. 

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