Claiming My Voice: From the darkness, the light emerges.

Last night I was hanging out with a bunch of gals ages about 20 to 60 (and yes, based on what I am about to say, using the term “gals” might be antiquated)… I was one of only 3 gals over 40. One of us in the upper ages was telling a story and was talking about her “bad behavior around promiscuity” and I had almost a visceral reaction to what she was talking about. On the one hand, the word “promiscuity” digs up the sound of my mother’s voice talking about girls who are “no better than they outa be” and some of my own guilt at some of my past behavior. On the other hand, I know there is a movement with young women owning their own sexuality in a new way and disallowing “slut shaming” and in that moment I wondered how many of them were thinking that the woman that was sharing was being very antiquated. Actually, the word that popped into my head was “provincial”. It doesn’t really fit, but I like that word as a dig sometimes 🙂 It’s probably very provincial of me.

Anyway, I got to thinking about my past and where I feel guilty and where I don’t, and why for some sexcapades and not for others. In short, the sexual encounters I feel guilty for are really more those where I was doing it for the wrong reasons: Sense of obligation, sense of needing a man etc.

But there are a few examples where there is no guilt!

Let me tell you about some of them.

My Greek God was so beautiful. We lived in different cities and he was the friend of some friends. Every few weeks I would drive into town for a visit and we all would hang out. We’d play D&D or drink or whatever and every once in a while, he and I would have fun sex. The first night, I remember looking up at him post coital in the candle light and thinking he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He was muscular without being bulky and his skin had the glow of someone who lived at the beach. After, we would all go to the all night coffee shop and I would watch him meander around the room and give massages and attention to all the other young folks there. He was both physically and emotionally present to whoever he was talking to. He was exactly that same person in bed. We never made a commitment or promise to each other. We just enjoyed each other when we chose to.

Then there was my Jewel of the Nile. He also was stunningly beautiful. He could have been a model. We would spend long weekends exploring each other’s bodies: complimenting each other’s skills … we just fit. We enjoyed the company and would have fun adventures during the days. Then on Sunday night, he would go home and we might not see one another for weeks. At one point, he got injured and I cared for him for a few weeks and there was a sense of comfortable companionship. When he was feeling somewhat better, we made gentle love. I’ve not seen him since.

Lastly, there was Lance A Lot. He and I were friends for years. There were years when we didn’t see much of each other. There were years we did and there was no physical contact. There were times where either one of us could make the call and the other would come running and we’d have the best sex! We had sex so much that we just knew what the other liked and could make the other feel the best things.

I want to be very clear here: At no time were any of us cheating on anyone. We only ever got together when both parties were single. All of us were very strict about that.

If I had to guess, I suppose what makes these relationships so good is that there was no commitment. They were not muddied by my obsessive need for them to be in love with me, or guilt if I thought they were in love with me and I was not in love with them. I loved them all and I know they loved me, but none of us were “in love” so there was no pressure. Once I am “in love” then I start to worry: Am I too fat? Are they going to leave? How do I be perfect? There was no jealousy. They were just easy. If I could go back, how could I let go of the societal bullshit around the idea of needing to couple “to death do us part?”

This idea that I don’t want to be in a long term commitment was something that was always in my mind but when I shared it with the mentors in my young life, they always told me that it was just me defending my promiscuity. Today I know it is who I am. I do not believe I am the type of person who is built for life long relationships. I think some of us are and some aren’t, just like everything. There are those on either ends and all the grey areas in between. I hope that as a society, we stop pressuring others to be like us…no matter what the us is. If you want to fuck your way though your life with lots of partners, do it! Don’t shame others who don’t. If you want to be monogamous, do it! Don’t shame others who like to have lots of partners. If you make a commitment, stick to it. If you don’t want to make a commitment, don’t. Maybe its not the sex we do and don’t have that messes us up but how we feel about it…and how we feel about it in relationship to how society feels about it.

Maybe.