W<\/strong><\/span>e\u2019re not supposed to write about sex. That topic is confined to fictional characters\u00a0and sociologists in studies and therapists in self-help books. But sex is a real thing,\u00a0and most of us have it.<\/p>\n When I did it for the first time, he couldn\u2019t get it all the way in. That\u2019s horribly\u00a0embarrassing to say now, but as far as first times go, it wasn\u2019t a bad<\/em> time. Just . . .awkward. He hovered above me as I hitched up my legs. It felt tight and full, in the\u00a0way I imagine the casting feels while it\u2019s being stuffed with ground meat, spewing out\u00a0of a sausage stuffing machine.<\/p>\n Some of what they say is true about your first time. It\u2019s awkward, it might hurt, you\u00a0might bleed a little. But mostly I was just happy that it was over. Not the sex part, but\u00a0I was glad that I wasn\u2019t a virgin anymore. I was glad to be rid of that label. I had a\u00a0penis inside of me, and that somehow made me different.<\/p>\n I\u2019m pleased to report that the sex got better after that. It was a whole inner world that\u00a0I got to explore. His body was an alien planet, I was the Mars Rover. Everything\u00a0before penetrative sex felt timid, shy, and I was afraid that God Himself was watching\u00a0through the tiny dorm room window, or peering in through the ceiling light. But\u00a0everything after was ecstasy. Through his body, I was able to discover my own. In the\u00a0process, we found untouched springs flowing with fresh water, wide, open fields,\u00a0mountainous regions stretching toward the sky, valleys and rivers and lakes and\u00a0beaches to lounge on.<\/p>\n Sometimes, we had a raucous time, sheets clutched in hand, toes curling, bed creaking.\u00a0Phrases like fucking<\/em>, doing the nasty<\/em>, screwing<\/em>, and bumping uglies<\/em> come to mind. But other\u00a0times, it was slow, tender, and we basked in the knowledge that we weren\u2019t just creating\u00a0<\/em>love like one creates fire\u2014by clashing together flint and steel, rubbing sticks\u00a0together\u2014but rather, that we were<\/em> the love. That he was mine, and I was his. The <\/p>\n B<\/strong><\/span>ut sex complicates things. I\u2019m not entirely sure why it complicates things, but it\u00a0does. And sex isn\u2019t always easy. It, like love, takes work.<\/p>\n That\u2019s the thing, isn\u2019t it. At least for me, sex and love are inextricably linked. I suppose\u00a0some people have always been able to separate the two, or they can learn how, but I\u00a0haven\u2019t been able to. It might be because the only person I\u2019ve ever had sex with is\u00a0someone I love, but even before that, I knew I never wanted to \u201cgive it up\u201d to\u00a0someone I didn\u2019t love. (Excuse how problematic that term is.) Even as a virgin, sex\u00a0was too important to me. I didn\u2019t want to get hurt; although, the truth of the matter is\u00a0that we get hurt despite the protections laid around our own hearts. Someone can still\u00a0hurt you so deeply without ever having sex with you.<\/p>\n But when you\u2019ve had sex with someone, they know you in a way that most other\u00a0people don\u2019t. Not only have they seen you naked, but they\u2019ve seen you bare, in the\u00a0peaks and troughs of pleasure and pain. Aside from engaging with mind-altering\u00a0substances, sex and orgasm is the most dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphin producing\u00a0activity we can do. When we do it with another person, it\u2019s like our minds and bodies\u00a0take emotional photographs, ones we can take out and remember later: thumbing the\u00a0printed ink, looking at the date on the back scribbled in hasty ballpoint pen.<\/p>\n The truth is, I don\u2019t want everyone to see me like that. Not everyone deserves to see\u00a0me at my peak. Not everyone deserves that level of intimacy, and that\u2019s okay. But with\u00a0a heightened level of connection and intimacy\u2014one that works at the biological\u00a0level\u2014comes a heightened sense of entanglement. My mess has become one with his.\u00a0We trade bits and pieces of ourselves, back and forth. Not to say that I couldn\u2019t get <\/p>\n S<\/span><\/strong>ex is easy. Almost anyone can do it. But intimacy and<\/em> sex? That\u2019s a puzzle I\u2019m not\u00a0sure I\u2019ll ever figure out. It\u2019s not the anatomical act that\u2019s difficult in any way, but\u00a0rather, it\u2019s the clouds of feelings that come attached at the hip. I suppose people can\u00a0have sex without being intimate with one another, but I can\u2019t imagine the sex would\u00a0be any good\u2014aside from the \u201cgetting off\u201d part\u2014because I think what makes sex so\u00a0spectacular is that it\u2019s something you either get to share with yourself or with another\u00a0person. It is always love: self-love in the way of self-care, or self-less love, an\u00a0outpouring from one vessel so that person can pour right back into you.<\/p>\n But sometimes getting there is hard. Sometimes it\u2019s just been a long day, and nobody \u00a0wants to put in the effort to strip themselves bare, dive in, and be intimate. It would\u00a0just be easier to ignore the tugging, bury it beneath other things that are probably\u00a0more important. Sometimes needs are mismatched. Sometimes things come up and\u00a0shit happens.<\/p>\n Good sex requires both parties to be willing and enthusiastic. Hopefully that should\u00a0be obvious, but the idea goes beyond just consent. Just like love, good sex takes work,\u00a0and who wants to work all the time? Certainly not me. It takes work to put yourself\u00a0out there to the other person, to express desire, to not only take off the clothes you\u2019ve\u00a0been wearing all day but also to take off the masks you\u2019ve been wearing, the layers we\u00a0wrap ourselves in to protect from the harsh, unforgiving world, from the people who\u00a0wouldn\u2019t treat our bodies and hearts with care. Sometimes it is so much easier to keep\u00a0those walls up, even from someone you\u2019ve been having sex with for years. Sex\u00a0requires willingness and vulnerability, it is inherently dangerous territory, one where\u00a0we willingly entangle ourselves with someone else\u2019s mess, someone else\u2019s body. In my Olivia Bennett We\u2019re not supposed to write about sex. That topic is confined to fictional characters\u00a0and sociologists in studies and therapists in self-help books. But sex is a real thing,\u00a0and most of us have it. When I did it for the first time, he couldn\u2019t get it all the way in. That\u2019s horribly\u00a0embarrassing to say Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":45,"featured_media":0,"parent":25,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-full-width.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-175","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/45"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=175"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":806,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/175\/revisions\/806"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/25"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nultimate expression of togetherness. Perhaps, the most human thing we can do.<\/p>\n
\nthose pieces back, but it wouldn\u2019t come without some scar tissue. Sex requires us to\u00a0work as a unit, and that extends into every other facet of our lives, especially when my\u00a0partner and I began living together. Suddenly, it\u2019s not just you anymore. You\u2019ve\u00a0shared the most important parts of yourselves with another person\u2014oh God, another\u00a0person! How flawed and imperfect are they. Experiencing the highest highs with a
\nperson almost guarantees that you\u2019ll also experience the lowest lows with them.<\/p>\n
\nexperience, sex will not be good with any holds barred. It requires an opening of the\u00a0floodgates, a ravenous intimacy and connection that builds mountains, carves rivers\u00a0and valleys, paints sunsets across the sky and turns our world \u2018round. Like the Mars\u00a0Rover, it requires endless exploration, a dedication to the other person and to\u00a0yourself. A dedication to continue to love, so that we might finally reach the stars.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"