Making Love

I have never publicly written about sex before. The topic has always been daring and taboo to me, not to mention something I have always felt greatly out of touch with, so I was too shy, if not embarrassed, to openly talk about it – no less, on the web. Even the brief sex scenes in my novels are washed down and brushed over, feeling as if I was committing some sinful crime. You can likely guess I don’t watch many adult films. Anyway, I am a mature adult (only in the technical terms), and yet I have a prudish approach to the topic of sex, despite having a very sexual nature. It has never made much sense to me. My feelings are conservative but my actions are liberated. And to me, sex has always been as important in a relationship as communication, even though I strongly struggle with the latter. Open communication about past sexual experiences has always been greatly difficult for me. I am unable to separate the past from present and I’d rather not know anything than potentially overcome a new level of intimacy. My sexual energy is hypocritical and misunderstood. My desires are timid and quiet when single, with not so much as a workplace crush, but in a relationship, or thing¸ my loins are awakened and only briefly satisfied. 

A visit to the home town for the first time since leaving almost a year ago, held many surprises. The first surprise is that it was my sister’s eighteen birthday, and not a soul was aware of my unexpected presence. The second surprise was, after four months of abstinence, self healing, solitude, and reflection, I found myself unexpectedly falling in the arms of another. I met him on my second of nine nights in P City, at a party my sister plus one-ed me to. I had plans to meet someone else for a date in a couple days, but even then, my expectations for a fling or whatever, were next to nothing. I was proud of the work I had been putting in, and didn’t intend to throw it away on a boy who triggers my abandonment issues that I am strongly working through (and well for the most part). And yet we got talking, and stayed up until 5am sharing our life stories, because we knew that whatever this was, it was temporary. I proceeded to spend a lot of time that week with him. We were intimate and raw and honest, affectionate and loving, and sure enough, the passion that had been stagnant and resting woke, and I felt the euphoria of melding bodies and souls together. And I know that sex isn’t always so mystical – trust me, I know. But when the walls are removed and there’s a level of intimacy reserved only for those with trust and understanding, it is exactly like that. Connection. And I realise now that that was what I was craving all those (many) times. And that my sexual energy is not inspired by pleasure in the most physical form, but rather the connection with another soul that ignites me. And whilst I still have a lot of ways to go with my unhealthy perspectives of sex, this realisation allows me to set boundaries with myself and find the partner suitable for me, whether they last a week or a lifetime.