Sometimes I forget that the content I write about is not for everyone. That the views I have, and how I live my life illicit reactions from people that are less than desirable. Writing this blog is freedom of expression, but also allows me to build a protective bubble of tolerance. What I mean by that, is I see my stats grow week by week, regular and new readers alike and it becomes easier to say that what I am doing is starting to become accepted. That perhaps I am somehow making a difference or at the very least breaking down a few walls of the unknown.
And then I say something to a friend about being open, or make some reference to dating while being in a relationship and I am slapped in the face with reality. I see the discomfort on the persons face who has known me for years. I see the uncomfortable stirring in the seat. And worse than that, I see a form of pain cross their eyes as they internalize what I have said, and they intuitively put themselves in my shoes and are scared.
I write this blog for me. But there is a massive downside to it. I do not ever get to see a persons reaction when they read a post I wrote for the first time. I miss out on the initial gut impact that a few of my more poignant posts have given. I watch page views rise quickly with my internal musings and slower with my more controversial subjects. Yet over time, the controversial ones remain stronger and get more repeat views. I honestly do not know why.
I remember as a young teenager playing the Penis Game. The rules are, someone in a public place quietly says `penis`. Then the person beside repeats the word, but a little louder. This continues until you are basically screaming the word PENIS. The game ends when you cannot stop laughing or you have been asked to shut up by the poor innocent passerby’s. I used to hate playing that game. I would watch parents give dirty looks, professional`s glare with that hint of humiliation, and some senior just look onwards with a deep knowing almost reminiscent face. It was the reactions that stuck with me. That variance of emotions that at the time made me want to sink as low as possible and disappear.
I felt that talking with this friend about being in an open relationship. We are so close, that she could not remove herself from the situation. I saw firsthand a gut reaction. I don`t think I would have been able to write for so long had there been a medium available that would have show the looks on peoples faces as they read each word I typed. I am much happier in the world of tolerance I have created for myself within this blog. I love the freedom and release I get each time I press publish. Not being able to see your faces allows me to keep this organic and about what I really think, and feel without censoring myself or curbing my views to appeal to masses. It is a double edged sword I realize, but with great value in the long run for me.
When I was in my early 20’s the idea of even walking into a sex store terrified me. My boyfriend, at the time, would have to go in alone and I would literally hide in the car so that no one could see me. After we did this a few times, I grew a little more comfortable and asked him to go inside and tell me if there was anyone creepy, and scope the place out for me. Still terrified of the answer, I remained in the car. Then one magical day I mustered up the courage to go and look inside. I touched NOTHING and barely even looked at anything. I was twitchy and grouchy, begging to leave as soon as possible. Completely insecure about what I was surrounded by and having no concept about the added pleasure that items in the sex store could provide. I felt a real threat by inanimate objects, and I bet I am not the only one out there who has felt like this at one time or another.
What really helped me loosen up was of all things, going to a sex toy party with my mom. I was squeamish and a little icked out. But all in all, I was surrounded by woman who were laughing, drinking wine, and celebrating their sexuality. We were all laughing at the ridiculous tingling creams, tasting the flavored lubes, and egging each other on to make purchases that would make our men swoon. It was amazingly liberating. Sex toys became fun, and were explained to me in a low-key and friendly environment. The woman at the party varied in ages from early 20’s (myself) all the way up to mid 60’s. And each and everyone there was having fun. Even the most timid woman who was in her 40’s surprised us all by bravely sampling the newest jelly concoction to increase the fires below.
After that point, my very irrational fears started to diminish. The thing that was never explained to me was suddenly shown in a really sex positive format. I wrongly had perceived sex toys as something used when things were not working, rather than aids to make things even better or just add some variety. I went from hiding in the back of my car at sex stores, to the woman here, writing about my relationships and things that give me joy from a sexual perspective. I have made quite the journey so far, and in my estimation it just keeps getting better and better the more open to new possibilities that I become.
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