Giving Up

In the realm of sexual pleasure, I've been a slave to my thoughts, rather than my physical desires for most of my life. Like many young people, what I thought was sensual had been formed and based judgements on what society finds acceptable among taboo subjects like sex, not based on anything I had personal experience with.

One of my favorite children's books by Russel Hoban called Bread and Jam for Frances, in which a little bear, Frances expands her epicurian horizons from the familiar jam sandwiches to other foods. There's a line in there where she exclaims to her mother, who's fixing her the requisite jam sandwich 'how do you know what I'll like if you don't even try me?' Such a good rule to live by. Life is about experience and learning what you like by trying it yourself.

Sex had to be with someone I cared about. Sex meant being in a bedroom, dimmed lights or in the dark, missionary style. Blowjobs were messy and dirty and made you gag so they were bad. Anal sex was unsanitary so that was bad too. Porn exploits women. Masturbation wasn't normal. Casual sex was bad because first of all good girls don't do that kind of thing and secondly, you could catch something. Enjoying sex too much was bad. Good girls don't enjoy sex that much. If they do, boyfriend beware...

Somehow notions of sex went from one extreme to the other. From the free love hippie days of my parents generation to the 'just say no' generation to virtually anything pleasurable. So here I am, much farther along in life where I finally realize I should have applied Frances' motto to everything in my life, not just my diet. My sexual appetite is just as important as my normal appetite.

So in recent years I have applied that philosophy, of trying things, opening my mind to possibility. And I'm finding liberation in such exploration.