By Twanna F.
If there even is one, sex talks with parents usually don’t address the complex effects sex can have on us mentally and emotionally. Our parents give us a quick, “don’t have sex(unprotected) cause I ain’t raising no babies” and that’s about it. I don’t know one person who learned from their parents how to say no in the bedroom, or let our partner know we’re uncomfortable or even let us know that as women we are supposed to enjoy sex. As an adult, these things seem like common sense, but many of my early sexual experiences had to teach me these things. And from the conversations I’ve had with others, they too have had to learn these things with time or are in the process of learning them now. So why is it that we aren’t open with the aspects of sex that can make an experience traumatic versus pleasurable?
I would love it if my life experiences could be a lesson to young men and women alike, and so, I’m making it my business to start being open. I have plenty of stories but I’ll start with one that changed my outlook on sex completely.
Somewhere in between strokes and exhales I lost him. I looked in his eyes and couldn’t find my boyfriend. The rhythm increased and we became more and more out of sync. All I could think was how offbeat it all felt. He closed his eyes and went somewhere else in his head, is what I’m assuming. I never felt so alone with him. This was round 3 for the afternoon and though I wasn’t eager to start in the first place, kisses and smiles convinced my body that I was. Or convinced my heart that I was, but the feeling didn’t last. I wasn’t wet anymore and it hurt, hurt like indian burns but worse. I felt powerless and for some reason my 19 year old brain thought, “hopefully he’ll finish soon” and not “STOP it hurts!” All I could muster out was, “can you chill”, to which he responded “uh uh” with a smirk that said he just knew he was beating it up *rolls eyes*. After a while, I couldn’t hold out any longer. The pain got unbearable and before the tears got heavy enough to fall from the corners of my eyes I let out a moan of pain and pushed body up and away from his. He looked at me puzzled and I yelled “it fucking hurts!”, out of frustration. After realizing I was serious he apologized and hugged me but I could tell he didn’t understand the damage he’d done and why the damage was wrong in the first place.
After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen my discomfort and put himself first in the bedroom. And this wasn’t the first time I’d allowed myself to be uncomfortable for his pleasure either. But it would be the last time for sure, with him or anyone else. I was done settling for anything less than feel-good moments with a partner. I already knew how good sex could feel, so why wasn’t I striving for that feeling with each experience? Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve it or that because I cared about him he deserved it more. Whatever the rationale was, I know now that it was the furthest thing from the truth.
This lesson is one that I’m still learning, because it is difficult to be transparent and vulnerable while keeping insecurities in check. But as I get further down the path to self love it becomes more and more tangible. I hope that my testimony can spark a change, for the better, within your sex lives. None of us should be afraid to speak up in the bedroom, but I know from experience that it’s not always easy. So, at the very least I’m here to let you know that you’re not alone. Whether or not you’re ready to find your voice, I hear you.