Happy Monday! What a week! It felt so expansive for me in so many ways. Broadening my horizons with plant medicines, my favorite time of the year, a full moon, daylight savings, and a new month. Felt like lots of treats and not too many tricks. Hooray!
I’m in this phase where I’m starting to really understand my own identity and my own needs and wants. I’m refining my voice, and heading into a new adventure. This also means uncharted waters, some anxiety, and me wanting to peace out and live abroad for a while.
I’m also really nervous for tomorrow’s election. I have a sex blog, and am pretty adamantly a feminist, so I don’t think it’s a surprise that the Biden/Harris ticket gets my vote. I encourage you all to head to the polls tomorrow. Even if you think voting is a sham and the Electoral College will just decide the winner anyway, it can’t hurt to cast your ballot. Vote for your local representatives too. Those peeps really matter.
Alright, hopping back into sex. Today, I’d like to discuss this feeling of attachment that I’ve been experiencing during casual sex encounters. Maybe, just maybe you have experienced something like it too. I want to normalize this because I think a lot of women feel this way, and we are kind of made fun of for it. We’ve all heard of the stage-5 clingers, or needy chicks that can’t take a hint. We don’t want to be those. We want to have dignity, but we also want a “that was the best sex of my life, and I have to have you again soon” text.
I was talking with some friends about take-aways from my sex hiatus, and I had a realization that I didn’t know what I learned from those very dry two months until I started to have sex again.
In my early twenties (freaking out that I just penned this), I regarded my body as a temple (I still do, but a more mature temple). A place where I was very selective and careful about who and what entered me.
During my last relationship, my partner had a much more robust sexual palate than mine, and I started to feel like I was some kind of a square if I ruled people out based on merit or appearance or a myriad of other factors that would typically disqualify a person from being near my loins. I became more relaxed with my sexual standards under the guise of exploratory behavior.
I wanted to explore and not to limit. I also fell into people pleasing behaviors during which I didn’t want to be the person to say nay to an experience when everyone else was enthusiastically on board. I didn’t want to ruin the fun. As an aside, I wouldn’t do that ever again, and I’ll explain why now.
So I broke my sex hiatus in Tulum on my birthday, and after that happened… my mind started to create a story about the man I slept with. The story felt very familiar. This is the story I think many of us can relate with. Although I had already identified this person as a vacation fling, my mind created a romance about him, and what our friendship/relationship would be like after sex.
I, no shit, thought about moving to Tulum, eating fruit at the pool, sharing a drink while wearing a bikini and looking at the stars. Starting a business, having little hijos and being a Caribbean wife with glowing moisturized skin. AHAHAHAHA THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING WRITING IT.
I completely romanticized this man in a way I had so many others. Even though I didn’t actually want to be his wife, I wanted him to beg to be my husband. And guess what… my expectations were not met. And then I felt this weird wave of disappointment. Like, why am I not good enough?
Pause: Here I am, this confident, boss-ass queen, vacationing in Tulum, writing about sex, living my best life, promoting self-love, confidence, and open communication, and I’m all disappointed that some dude isn’t BEGGING TO BE MY HUSBAND? FOR REAL? Major ego situation here, but also I’m a romantic, and that’s that.
What I learned during this experience was:
1: I need to wrangle my ego.
2: I give off mixed signals.
3: I am a romantic.
So basically, I want to be swept off my feet except also don’t call me, and no, this isn’t your pu$$y and also hi, I love you. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HOW CONFUSING.
In short, I know that lots of women feel this attachment emerge when they sleep with someone. I think we’d like to be a carefree and hope for less, but there are so many factors at play here that lead to expectations. And I think it’s okay to recognize this, and honor these parts of us that want to care for people and see if there’s something there.
Here’s the thing…when I meet a man and sleep with him, there are usually several reasons that emerge right away that are total red flags for a relationship. I don’t actually want the person, but I want the person to want me and that’s just weird and unhealthy. I see this ALL THE TIME. Alas, it’s time to check ourselves before we wreck ourselves.
The cool thing is, we can do what and who we want as we’re learning about ourselves and trying not to be destructive. Now that I know this sex-attachment-romance thing occurs, I’m better able to vet people I want to sleep with, and also set expectations for myself accordingly.
I wish there was some kind of playbook on being a slutty single intellectual that loves sex but also loves communication and transparency and also wants a husband but not right now. Maybe I’ll write one?
I have come to the conclusion that casual sex is still fun. I still want to do it, but here is how I am going to prevent myself from having this odd husband letdown situation. First, I’m going to remind myself that I am here to love myself and even if I am never loved by another man ever again, my love for myself is powerful and I’m worthy just because I’m alive.
Next, before I sleep with someone, I’m going to start having a real conversation with myself. Likely in the bathroom as I’m peeing. Expectation setting a la commode, if you will. The conversation will go like this:
Lauren, you’re just horny, you’re not in love, so stop being an asshole and have some fun. He’s hot, but it doesn’t really matter if he’d marry you, because you’d marry you. So boom betch. Expect nothing other than to have an orgasm. This is just a man, it’s not that important. I will then look in the mirror and let out a yodel so loud it will shatter the mirror glass.
As I exit the loo so clear in my intentions that the general confusion others feel won’t even phase me.
Aight, writing this, I’m starting to question myself and my expectations more and more.
I actually don’t think it’s fair to expect anything from anyone. Usually, I’m good at this, but I do think there’s a different code when it comes to sex and I’m on the cusp of cracking it. At least for me. Please accept my ramble this week as a small look into why I’m so fascinated by sex.
Even for the most confident of us, our sexuality is a part of us that seems to span all levels of our consciousness. It’s confidence and vulnerability and finesse and physicality and mentality and spirituality. It’s so much and it’s okay to question it all and feel it all and curl up into a tiny ball. It’s all groovy dude.
In sum, I kind of fall in love with all the people I sleep with and then feel disappointed when our fantasy romance doesn’t blossom into a Hallmark classic. This is not great for my ego or my confidence, and puts me in a place of lack. I will over(cum) this by first, be open about it with you all, and second, having real conversations with myself before I decide if I will in fact sleep with a person. Expectation setting a la commode.
I share this today because I know others feel this way, or in ways similar, and it’s my hope that my vulnerability allows you to be vulnerable with yourself and others too. It feels scary and good.
Sometimes we grow through other stories of vulnerability and sometimes we grow through “5 tips to be confident as fuck” posts. My blog is here for all of that and I’m so glad you’re here too.
I love you all. Thank you for being here.
Want more of me?
-Sex positive Instagram page @thesexden
-Personal Insta @shewolflauren
-Personal Twitter @shewolflauren