Out of all the things that man could have said to anger me, it was, “you should’ve waited three months before having sex with me,” that rightfully still remains the most absurd thing a man with four kids and three baby mamas (he is unequivocally not a deadbeat btw), who chased me for years has ever uttered. I was incensed and probably still haven’t recovered from the moment that someone tried to outsmart me with their stupidity. Someone who is clearly no stranger to sex, no less.
Someone who initiated sex with me and was still initially rebuffed had the unmitigated gall to say I didn’t rebuff him enough. I failed some sort of test that he wanted me to fail and was unhappy yet and still very pleased when I did. I am at a standstill with this species. I do not know what you all want.
I love sex. It’s one of my favorite inventions. I have an interesting relationship with it. I do not always have it in regular intervals, but when I get some that I like, that’s all my diet consists of DACK, breakfast, hunch and dinner. I have had casual sex before, but I sometimes find, trying to knock the dust off makes me feel dirtier. While I recognize that maybe I need a bit more of a connection to drive myself to the finish line, I often wonder if that is the parameter that society puts on me. If this preprogrammed biological need shouldn’t be fulfilled in a certain way because society says so. I also recognize the biological need for discrimination when it comes to sex and that all sex, even condom sex/monogamy, isn’t foolproof.
Exposing the fact that I have not had sex since October leaves the world telling me that I need some d-ck. Any moment I may raise my voice too loudly to fight misogyny as if d-ck isn’t ubiquitous. As if d-ck is the cure-all, but ain’t cured some of its possessors from living in their grandmas’ basements.
As if Mr. “90 days” himself, the person I was having, admittedly, the best sex of my life with for the majority of the last two years, whom I cut off in October, didn’t text me last night. I can have sex if I want, but I’m damned if I do, damned if don’t and judged by with whom I have sex, including the person I am having sex with for having sex with them in the first place. As if a man with all them kids wouldn’t be the expert (insert tongue out and wink emoji). It’s all too much sometimes, but honestly, I am glad I didn’t wait that long. The sex was/is bonkers and he would’ve gotten on my nerves before the 90 days commenced.
I have no regrets other than that dumb ass conversation.
Studies show that a sexually repressed society is also a more violent one, and while men are quick to say that women are the gatekeepers of sex, clearly, men don’t always care if a gate is closed; we know enough studies prove that as well. The pervasive view, even from men with multiple children who chase you down, is that a woman has somehow defiled herself by sleeping with a man too early. I’m finding that hard to understand for a multitude of reasons. If she defiles herself by sleeping with you, wouldn’t that make you the dirt?
Additionally, does that dirt wear off for you after three months, and that is why we can’t touch you until then, are you like in sexual quarantine? Do you need to seek medical advice and get that cleared up? Men will tell you that women are the gatekeepers to sex and then pressure you when you refuse. They will have sex with women and not talk to them again because the women made them wait too long. “Women are the gatekeepers to sex” is a statement that lacks nuance in many aspects, specifically when it comes to men asking for sex and then accepting the first no that they are given without any pushback. Let’s be serious, if men really respected women’s desire not to have sex with them, well… I don’t have to tell you the rest.
When it comes to sex work, it is an industry that is mostly supported by men but also defamed by men the most. It is not evangelical men who watch porn in the privacy of their own homes with their bibles close by for cleanse, but men who are not ashamed of viewing porn, patronizing strippers, or even dabbling in a Dominican Republic two-for-one, that are also the most vocal about shaming the same women whom they patronize. Our society does, however, exalt the men who make money from women selling their bodies, “Pimps Up, Hoes Down” wasn’t just a cult classic; it was a mantra. When it comes to the sex industry, the customer base is the loudest critic of the business.
I was a virgin for longer than most, and after “losing” my virginity, I felt like I lost my power.
My virginity gave me something to lord over other young women and left me feeling special. I had something that men wanted but knew they couldn’t have, and upon its surrender, I felt helpless. My introduction to sex wasn’t a healthy one; all I knew was to hold on to my virginity as long as I could, but I never knew what to do after that. While one part of society was telling me not to have sex, another part was calling me a prude. I was never instructed that my pleasure was important and that I shouldn’t be having sex unless I enjoyed it.
Our society does not reinforce a woman’s pleasure with the same strength as it does a woman’s duty, and if you don’t do it, another woman will, but she’s wrong for doing it too. Being a woman that orgasms easily left me with a desire to have sex more frequently than some of my past partners had ever experienced with other women, and while most people would think that was a good thing, that hasn’t always been the case. After abstaining from sex for about a year, I finally put that thang back on the meat market just to get the reaction from the only man I was screwing at the time, “I bet you could f-ck all day, huh?” “Are you like some sort of sex addict?” “Are you a sexaholic?” It was hurtful. As if something had to be wrong with me because I enjoyed sex. What’s wild is I remember him initiating sex the first time, as well as some of the multiple times we did have sex, and I don’t remember me having more sex with him than he did with me.
Even enjoying sex, the same amount as the person I was having it with, was seen as a bad thing.
When it comes to women having sex, it seems that we are damned if we do, damned if we don’t want to. Being a virgin is the most power society allows a woman, but clearly, that’s not sustainable. Being pimped is bad, but being a pimp is awesome, just like enjoying the labor of sex workers is completely acceptable, but being a sex worker is not. Not having sex with your man is bad, but enjoying it just as much as he does, is also cause for concern. Not having sex at all because you do not want to have casual sex is bad, but taking a d-ck that has been thrown your way, up on the offer to satisfy a basic biological function, is just as bad.
The reason women will never be able to win is because their game is not designed for us; our best bet is to play in the manner that brings us the most peace and the most pleasure. In other words—Thinking about seeing Mr. 90 days soon, at the very least—wish me good f-ck.
