love each other…. a woman will feel a deep and soulful connection to each other. They will caress, breathe heavily and in your ear, they will then whisper … okay, this is your week. And then the penis sldes into … well… I went a little far with that. Sorry….

So, Once Upon a Time there was… oh, the 50’s? Where women were to give to their husbands at their will. They also had to do housework, have the baby (babies), cook, take care of the future offspring, run errands, press your clothes, call your mother, not complain, and maybe see each other to record a television show or just because… Some relationships seemed almost Christmas card like. (meanwhile, I’m looking at those Christmas cards like – one of them is BOUND to snap. When is the husband going to do it?

Women’s Lib, then hallucinogens and free love, religion, disco *yuck*, Mtv, VCR, Pizza Hut, Gilmore Girls, Fear of the AIDS virus, Rodney King riots, Y2K, Sept 11 2001, Ke$ha, <duckjob, AOL/Netscape/Juno, Simpsons will never end…..

So, to update. It’s not just “When Mommy’s and Daddy’s love each other….” It’s … one time in this one room (insert car, on table, at the in laws, closet….) I met this person I’m attracted to according to ‘normalized gender traits’. or ‘statistically unusual gender traits…’ He smiled at me and bought me a drink. Or four. The inhibitions start to fade away until he looks like a chiseled Thor of a man. I don’t remember what happened after that point. It may have ended well. Or, in the morning you could regret everything. The guy didn’t want to wear a condom because he didn’t like how it made him feel. Included a date rape drug in your drink that he bought you. He could drive you in the middle of nowhere after you leave your date. Your friends leave because they’re tired they have school in the morning. Or maybe your new guy is a jerk and said he’d hurt you. Made you feel like you didn’t exist. Just your genitals matter, for a brief time. (Ever so …..)

Sex is not always love. That was what that long paragraph means. Love is not always having sex. Like plutonic relationships. Harry could be friends with Sally. Deviant sexual activities can happen in one party not giving their consent due to rape, incest, molestation. And even in other deviant terms – Kinks. Some absolutely bizarre, some meh… sure. Monogamous, Polygamous, whatever….

It’s idealistic to think that the standards still apply. And also naive I had various bad relationships, sex partners in my life. I have always believed in monogamy. I would be one woman with one man. I wanted to be bedded like a queen. The ideal romance. Not having pervvy family members watch as we attempt to consummate our wedding night. And just because you say ‘I Do…” actually mean… I will share my everything half and half. We’ll both make our own careers and be happy with the pay and what we do for a living. We will bare fruit and children …. and retire and watch as we fade away. Back into celestial stars of the universe. Death is gross, watching your partner hurt.. sucks. And you don’t always like each other. Especially when quarantined. Divorces have been caused by spending excessive time together. Every person dreams of that ideal partner. Someone who will complete you. It doesn’t always happen. I’ll never be a princess… so at least part of my email address is named princess.

I was raped. Multiple times. I had a man attempt to force me to give him oral sex. I’ve been mistreated and taken advantage of. And I’ve even attempted to take advantage of them. I was asked at one point to marry this guy for not love and I’d never have to work again. I was not interested. His age was closer to my dad’s than my own at the time. It was weird. The thing is: as much as sex ed in 5th grade was uncomfortable and somewhat funny (giggle) – I grew up believing that people who loved each other had sex. I remember feeling VERY curious about sex. I really wanted it. A lot. I knew it would be fun and I wanted to have fun. Of course I didn’t until I was 15 years old. He was my friends’ brother. We had sex to “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica. On a bunk bed. I think each time for a while that each person that I took to have sex with – I had hoped that they at least REALLY liked me. Enough to have a long term relationship. After I had been abused, relationships terrified me. I had been filled with guilt over my sexual desires and partners. Real desire to belong somewhere and with someone. And no matter how much, I just wanted to be me. Who I needed to be. Not just with sex, but with being able to make a choice that I didn’t think anyone could take away from me.

As a teenager, hormones are raging for both sexes. Life becomes …. complicated. You think you’re invincible. You may as well be wonder woman or superman. Nothing can take you down. Love = Sex.

Fuck… No.

There was a man that raped me in his truck. He worked as an overnight clerk at a hotel near my hometown. I told him no, multiple times. He just kept insisting with his body. I just went limp, then froze, then tried to pretend it didn’t happen. And then because he bought mine and my friends alcohol… I had to interact with him sometimes. At Kelly’s party. One time at Kelly’s house I got REALLY drunk. I was planning on spending the night at Kelly’s anyway, I unfortunately started to puke. I remember him joking with the people around us saying….”Well, nobody’s going to go to bed with her tonight….”

And then, I wake up covered by a blanket wearing nothing underneath. I see him laying next to me, but I remember nothing about how I got here after I threw up. I try to get out of bed without him noticing and going home. It worked. I tried to beg Kelly to get someone else over 21 to buy our alcohol. She insisted this one guy was all she knew,

He swore he didn’t rape me. Most men confronted with this (or women) accusation will say… she was lying. She did give me consent, I bought you dinner, you wore that dress that showed more than just your legs. You’re obviously a slut that will sleep with everyone.

Wait….. if a guy is promiscuous…. and a woman is promiscuous… wouldn’t that be the same? In the social context? Does a politician support my right to choose. The right to love who I want to love? Deeply subjective? Shit. I was the slut. He was “the man”.

They never told me that a guy/girl taking their partner to bed meant so much. That you would have to understand psychology, differences between the brain and the genitals. I wasn’t prepared for what a date was even going to look like. I started dating a guy I later fiound out was gay (but I kinda knew that since he never touched me, kissed me, and sang like Patsy Cline.) He wasn’t a danger to me. So we sat in his room while he bored me talking about electronics. Shit….

From then on, I just tried to find someone I was attracted to and fell for in some capacity. I was lied to again and again. I married the man who manipulated me and then walked away – refusing to take care of his child or consider my feelings in a relationship. If I would have maintained that relationship, he probably would have killed me. And that was after the abusive guy that repeatedly raped me.

A woman can be oggled, flirted with, sexualized nonsexual body parts like the elbow or knee. Little girls will be sexualized to look like older children. We’ll ignore those who are being molested and abused. We will ignore the mentally ill, We can be objectified and subjected to lower pay than our male couterparts. A literal object of affection and then tossed to the curb. Woman have the capacity to do it too – however it’s gotta be way less (statistically speaking. Men don’t usually report.) Gender is fluid more so now, so…. standard genders don’t just apply. I’m just refering to myself in this context.

Sex is sin. Don’t have sex. If you do, we’ll shun you. Others will shun you. You’ll be ignored and left to your own devices. Mostly. Relationships REALLY scare me. And I tried to forget about my multiple rapes. I tried to tell myself, don’t think about it. If you don’t think about it, it didn’t happen. If you can just lock it up and throw the key away… you’re good. The truth is?

My body remembered.

I’ve been married to my husband for nearly 22 years this year. And up until recently when I believed my husband and I were going to have sex… I crossed my legs under the covers. My eyes would always… always be closed. I was shy about touching him or even telling him what I wanted. I forced him to read my vagina like it was brail to figure out what was what. Thank goodness for porn and sexologists. I desperately wanted to be a sexual person. I wanted my husband to want me. I wanted to feel safe in his arms. Not like I needed to hide every last part of me. My self esteem was garbage and I couldn’t tell Eric what to do or what I liked because I was ashamed for what I was thinking and feeling. Orgasm? Welll…. that took some time. Again… wow. I knew how to achieve one myself, but I didn’t have the ability to tell him. I Just felt ashamed. Ashamed for being a human being.

I tried to block my thoughts about the repeated rapes that I suffered and survived. That got locked in to my head. I didn’t feel loved. I didn’t feel appreciated. I didn’t feel needed. I didn’t feel desired. And I most certainly didn’t think I deserved to feel good. Not just for him, but for me. My church, my mental illness, multiple losses at a young age. Developmental years, for the brain. Never thought I could find someone who loved me. REALLY loved me. Who wanted me to have an orgasm. Wanted me to feel more than just what ended with his climax. Thanks….. Next time, just have a tissue in hand. You don’t need me for this.

I never thought I deserved any more than a quickie, something to drink, smoke a cigarette, watch some tv, and go home. Junior was a particularly cruel person. He didn’t care if I was turned on or not. He’d work his way to penetrate me while I’d cry. And he got off on that.

I finally have given my husband an opportunity to feel me grow in my ability to forgive myself for who I was. Allow myself to be sexually satisfied in addition to my husband feeling that as well. That our lives can actually be amazing together. And that I know that in his arms or outside – he is my knight in shining armor. He rescued me. He rescued my mind and then my heart.

I don’t worry if he’s just telling me he loves me. I know he does. I’m not worried that he’s just using me until his body is fixed to get a newer model…. I see that person I’ve dreamt of seeing. The love of my life. Wanting my life to be within him. And within me. I can’t express how sexy this is. To know you’re safe with someone. You can quiet your mind.

This happened … just this year after undergoing therapy for … nevermind. Just say a few years. A therapist has retired in the time I’ve been in therapy. I can express myself verbally and non verbally. I am free.