I like driving.
I’m home again for Thanksgiving and not feeling so thankful. I love my friends. We’re cut from the same cloth. But I’m sewn up a different way.
I’m the girl I always though BFL was in high school.
Only more extreme.
I’m comfortable with my sexuality. I don’t mind being objectified by some. I don’t worry myself with what other people think of my sex life. I think in a very unique way, a way I don’t beleive a lot of people think. Sometimes I don’t feel human. I feel like I’m outside looking in. Other times I’m all too vulnerable in this soft body of mine. And I feel like I’m under a microscope. I try to think logically rather than emotionally despite having very poor control over my emotions. I don’t think sex is dirty and wrong. I don’t think sex is special in the way I was taught to think of it.
Sex is sex. I like it. A lot. That’s all that matters.
I don’t need to explain why I choose to do what I do. I make my own choices. I lead the life I want to live. Religion and morals might say that I’m wrong. I say fuck them.
Vanilla is nice but boring. Biting and pulling and grabbing and spanking, leaving bruises and marks, making me sore; that’s not abnormal. It’s just a level of normal different from others. Ropes and whips and cuffs and vibrators and dildos and butt plugs and beads. Different levels of normal.
Is the sex wrong if it leaves me gasping at every thrust of his cock inside because I have a plug in my ass? Is sex right if I lay there motionless, not willing to experiment at all?
So I tell you now: Don’t judge me.
You’re my best friends but I don’t owe you one single explanation for my actions.
You ask me why? I can’t explain.
You tell me I shouldn’t be doing it? I don’t care.
You tell me you’re disappointed in me. That you’re hurt. That I basically lied to you. Even though you had already guessed.
I want to tell you that my sex life is not your buisness. I may discuss it openly at times, but that does not give you a say in it. Just like the politicians who try to tell me what I can and cannot do to my own body, you cannot tell me that what I’m doing is wrong.
I have a choice. And I made my choice. It’s not the smartest of choices. And yes, my emotions may come into play a bit too much. But I’m a big girl. I can hold my own in this big, scary world of ours. I may not have the extensive dating/relationship/men experience you both have, but I have a brain. And more experience in sex and sexuality than you could imagine. I don’t need you to tell me I’m wrong.
You don’t know him. You aren’t his friends. So don’t judge him. He’s an asshole. But I’m a bitch. So lay off. You don’t see us, you don’t understand. My friends that see us, while they may not nessicarily approve, they understand. You don’t. So don’t tell me what he is, because I know him better than I know a lot of people. And I sure as hell know him better than you.
I made my choice. I’ve flung myself out into the chaos of this world, just hoping I come back in one piece. If I don’t, I’ll just sew myself and begin again. That’s all life is anyways. Rip yourself open. Expose yourself, your insides. Sew yourself up. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Life.
I love driving. It let’s me think. And clear my head. Music so loud I shouldn’t be able to think. And maybe I don’t. Maybe I feel, rather than think. I let everything out, I let it seep through my pores to the open air. I bleed out the feelings. And I organize them. I make sense of them in the midst of thumping bass. With my eyes following the dark road ahead of me, I set everything out in order. With my hands cold on the wheel, I put them back inside, now making sense.
And this is what comes out. Acceptance.
Sometimes that’s just the way it got to be..
I wish I had more to say but you seem to have it all together on this.
This is an absolutely great post, it’s got a really strong message but also a touch of sadness behind it? Very powerfully written too, I love it.
‘Is the sex wrong if it leaves me gasping at every thrust of his cock inside because I have a plug in my ass? Is sex right if I lay there motionless, not willing to experiment at all?’… is a great pair of sentences, it’s pretty obvious what is really right and wrong out of those two situations…
I feel your pain. I had a similar experience my freshman year of college via an email from a friend of one of my bffs. It devastated me and cost me a friendship but I’ve learned now that if she was really my friend she would have accepted me for who I was or wanted to be at that time. It’s been a long time since that email but I’m happy, healthy and involved in the kind of relationships that make me happy and that’s all that matters to my true friends. Keep on driving and hold out for what makes you happy.
amen girl.
perfectly said
carry on.
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