Thoughts on Sex and Labels Pt 2

Just like I didn’t lose my virgin lips until I was a senior in high school, I was a late bloomer when it came to losing my actual virginity too. I know a lot of my peers had their adventures with “The Big V” while still in high school, and a few even before that.  I never felt any pressure to get it over with, or to do it, even when most of those around me had done it.  I guess that’s why I was mostly through my sophomore year of college before I tumbled into bed with anyone.

I had always been interested in sex.  I’d watched actors make love to saxophone infused montages.  I’d read about it in books and magazines.  Most of my information regarding what men wanted, and how to get what a woman needed came from Cosmo.  I would spend my nights fantasizing about what it would be like to sleep with someone. I would wonder about who it would be with, if it would be good and if it was as wonderful as everyone said it was.

I think a lot of my curiosity stemmed from the fact that my parents were, and still are, pretty religious.  Sex was something that was reserved for marriage, and any discussion of it was vague and quickly ended.  If I had questions, they answered them, but what teenager goes to their parents with their real questions about sex?  Not many that I’ve come in contact with.

This eventually led to some experimentation on my part with figuring out my own body.  I really hate the word masturbation, but there are very few people that I’ve talked with that haven’t experimented with self-pleasure in some way.  I know it’s a touchy (no pun intended) subject for a lot of people.  Hell, I would NEVER have talked with my parents about it.  Most people don’t even talk with their partners about it.  Which I find very interesting.  I owe a lot of my confidence in the bedroom to the fact that I was very aware of my body and what I liked and what I didn’t.  I think that I am satisfied with my sex life because I know what works for me. 

I’m not saying that it was all a bed of roses.  My first time was right on par with most other girls…painful and not fun.  More on that later.  Even getting into a groove with a new partner can be difficult and sometimes embarrassing.  But the practice of self-pleasure can be beneficial.  At least it was in my case.  And I will be the first one to admit that sometimes I can do it better myself.  Sometimes, I don’t even want a man.  I am pretty damn good at taking care of myself.

Anyway, my parents were the first ones to talk with me about the mechanics.  But like most teenagers, I got most of my information from my friends and the media.

Needless to say, when the time came for me to lose my virginity, I was less than prepared.  I knew what was supposed to happen.  I knew what went where and how to go about it.  But I don’t think anyone can really be prepared for it.  Not really.  The excitement took the edge off of my fears and lingering questions, but during and after the act, I was pretty concerned that something was not right.

I didn’t have sex again for a few months after I lost my virginity. (Don’t worry, we’ll revisit and delve into detailed depths about this when I reach it on my Guys In My Life Timeline).  Sex is not like the movies.  It’s not like the magazines.  It’s not like the books.  At least not the first time.

I remember being pretty disappointed by that fact.  I remember thinking, right after giving it up, “What is all the fuss about??”  Since I wasn’t eager to jump back into bed any time soon, I spent a lot of time researching what I could do the next time to make it better.

I talked with my roommates and friends, did countless internet researches, read articles and posts and discovered that for most women, their first time is often a bad representation of what sex can be like.  If you lose your virginity to another virgin, this can sometimes be a factor that adds to the negativity tenfold. 

Now, I do not speak for the male sex.  I am not a man.  I did not speak to any men regarding virginity loss.  But since sex for them is not invasive (speaking of course, of heterosexual intercourse), and any contact with a female involving nudity and male dangly bits is thrilling, I highly doubt their opinion of first times, or any time, is a negative experience.  Feel free to comment with your thoughts if I’m wrong.

Upon discovering that it gets better the more you do it, I was determined that I would enjoy it.  Sex was supposed to be fun and exciting and feel oh-so-good.  So, that became my mission.  I was going to have sex until I enjoyed it.  Not only that, but I was going to get to a point that it was comfortable and enjoyable for those that I was doing it with.

It became my mission in life for sex to be good.  Because everyone deserves good sex.

Even before I lost my virginity, or was even in a position where it was an option, I thought about it a lot.  I had seen a few pornographic videos, had those annoying pop up ads confront me at the most inopportune moments, read and watched it in the media and listened to my friends experiences with it.  I became convinced at a pretty early age that when I finally did lose my virginity, it was not going to be with the love of my life, or even someone I thought I was in love with.  In fact, I knew it was going to be with someone who I didn’t care much about.  I guess my logic at the time was, my first time is going to suck, so why waste it on someone who I care about?  It might not make sense to you.  But it made so much sense to me then.   I wanted to get really good at sex so that if I ever did find the person I loved enough to spend my life with…our sex would be nothing but good.

When I tell Dr. Hokanson (my therapist, who will be lovingly shortened to Dr. H for blog purposes) about this, his eyes get all squinty and his brow furrows.  He is always trying to find out why.  I don’t have an explanation for it, really.  It’s a decision I made at a young age, well before I was ever seriously thinking about having sex with anyone.  When we discuss this, he simply says, “Interesting…” and scribbles frantically into his pad of paper.  I’m not sure, but I think I am the cause of many dead trees in his office.  Even our shorter sessions fill pages.

Looking back, now that it has been years since that fateful night, I still think I made the right choice.  The guy who I chose to be the first is no longer a part of my life.  We had a huge falling out (which you will hear about someday), followed by a brief make up period, followed by ceasing all contact completely.  I don’t know where he is, if he is with anyone, or if he remembers me with any kind of fondness at all.  I do have nostalgic feelings when I recall our times together.  He’ll always hold a special place for me.  A special, awkward place. I don’t really blame him if he hates me.  It was a weird time for both of us.

Still.  You will always have a connection with the guy who takes your virginity, whether you want it or not.  You’ll always have the memory of it, positive or negative, because it marks a huge milestone in your life, regardless of the age it comes at.  Again, I speak for females.  Not all of them, but a vast majority.  If you’re male, and have an opinion one way or the other about your first time partner, please let me know.  I’m interested.

I've always found that there are three kinds of people when it comes to discussing sex.

(1) The ones who are embarrassed by any and all talk remotely close to it.

T     These people will do anything to NOT talk about it.  They are either embarrassed by the notion, have  religious or personal reservations regarding it, or feel that it’s something that should be kept private.

2  (2)  The ones who will talk about it loudly and/or in graphic detail.
     These people have no problem with sharing details and information regarding sex and all things sexual.  They usually feel that knowledge is power and by sharing their experiences and information, they are benefiting all those out there in their sexual endeavors. 

3  (3) The ones who think they know it all, enjoy innuendo, have strong opinions or thoughts about it, but have never actually done it.
     These are my favorite.  They are all talk and no game.  Literally.  These are usually the ones who desperately wish they were engaging in sexual activities, but are too shy to ever try it with their partners.  But they enjoy talking about it.  They enjoy making jokes and sharing their mostly uninformed opinions with anyone who will listen.  They know all of the positions, slang and terminology….but don’t usually have much experience with…experiencing it.

I’m sure there are more.  But these are generally the ones that you will find.  I prefer to star in my own category.  It falls somewhere between 1 and 2.  I am happy to talk openly about it with anyone who WANTS to hear about it.  But I also know when I’ve shared too much, when to stop and when to draw the line between sharing information and forcing it on someone who is uncomfortable.

Now, this blog is for me.  It’s a way to sort through the various relationships and experiences I have had.  I am sharing my thoughts and personal adventures.  So, if you are reading this and find something that I say offensive, or too graphic, or inappropriate, feel free to stop reading.  I will not change its content because of you.  This is MY blog.

That being said, I really think the fact that women should be shy, or secretive or avoid speaking of sex altogether quite absurd.  If the information being presented is informative and honest, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.  I hope to give some semblance of that here.

So there you have it.  My thoughts on sex and labels.  I’m sure we’ll revisit these throughout this blogging experience.  See you next time!

--Lemi 

Thoughts on Sex and Labels Pt 1

Well, yesterday’s post sort of just happened. As I have implied, I wasn’t really sure how all of this was going to take shape, but now I feel that I have a good format to follow.  And as I also stated before, I promise all of this is leading up to my current situation.  I know that it keeps you in suspense when I say that.  I think it will all be worth the wait.  You’ll be the judge when we get there.

Now is the best time to explain the different categories that my ‘relationships’ fall into.  I think it will give you a better idea of me and the way that I work.  That, or you’ll think I’m some sort of boy-crazy tramp.  Which, maybe I am by your standards, you’ll make a decision of your own regardless of how I put it.

Okay, so my categorizations. Here we go:

:Boyfriends: (Referred to as such in future blogs!)

Most people don’t need this one explained.  I’ve had a surprisingly small amount of these.  I said I’d divulge, and I will.  But these are brief descriptions.  A boyfriend to me is when I am exclusive with only one guy.  I don’t see anyone else, and I’m not actively seeking other males to be around.  A boyfriend, like most other things in life, is a label. Monogamy isn’t my favorite thing, but every once in a while you find someone who makes you forget there might be anyone else out there.  It can be nice.  I’ve enjoyed the boyfriends I’ve had, but like I said, there haven’t been many.

:Consistent Relationships: (Referred to as SemComs [Semi Committed Relationships] in future posts)

This is the kind I’ve had the most of.  These are non-exclusive, but like the name says, consistent.  Basically it was being together without a label.  We weren’t official, so seeing other people was okay, but that rarely happened.  It was nice to have someone, but nice not to have to claim them.  Not booty-calls…because it was emotional too, and we did other things besides sex.  But convenient because you always had someone to have sex with.  And if it wasn’t like that, well, that’s where the next category comes into play.

:Benefit-Only Relationships: (Referred to as Bed Buddies in future posts)

 I hesitate calling it a relationship, because really it was just for sex.  But that is a kind of relationship…so it is part of this list of categories.  These are booty-calls.  Like the title says, it’s just about getting it on, and little else. I also like to call these ‘Filler’ relationships.  Because they fill in the time between Consistent relationships if your ‘partner’ isn’t available for fun-time, or you aren’t in that sort of place yet.  These are my favorite kind, if I’m being 100% honest.  But they also come with a certain amount of guilt.  I always feel like no matter how they start and finish…someone is always using someone.  Someone always feels more than the other and someone always gets hurt.  I find that it never ends up being me that’s hurt.  Maybe that’s conceited…but it’s the truth.

:One Night Stands: (Referred to as such in future posts)

Another one that doesn’t need an explanation.  In all fairness, I have only experienced one of these.  It was awkward to say the least.  I’ve never been interested in having another one.   Not that it wasn’t good, because it was.  The morning after just isn’t worth it.  I’m too much of a control freak for any of that.

And then there’s the final category…

The :“I know you’re not good for me, but I’m hopelessly in love with you and will disrupt my whole life for you whenever you come calling, which isn’t that often because we’re not on the same page” kind.: (Referred to as The Messy Relationship in future posts)

Yes, it’s a mouthful.  And I am one of the oh-so-lucky people to have one.  This, technically, has been my longest relationship, but only because it spans years.  It has never been consistent.  It has never been predictable.  And it is my one weakness.  I will delve deeper into this mess later, because it’s a huge part of why I do what I do…and why I am at where I am.

I guess this would be as good a time as any to tell you my personal views on women and sex.  I find the whole idea that a woman who is comfortable with her body and sexuality, who enjoys engaging in sexual activity, is responsible about who and how she engages in it and isn't shy about who knows should be labeled any of the derogatory terms used by men and other women to describe someone who isn't a prude quite ridiculous.  I’m not prude-shaming.  I firmly believe that if you have a certain view, or belief or conviction that you should stick to it, regardless of what it may be.  But once you start projecting these views onto others to judge them, or to build some sort of self-righteous opinion of yourself, that’s when it becomes wrong.  No one has the right to tell you how to live your life based on their own personal beliefs.

I don’t see anything wrong with what I do.  I don’t judge anybody for their decisions concerning sex.  I don’t think that who you do it with, how you do it, or how often you do it should be any indication of the kind of life that you lead.  I would never call anybody a whore, slut or tramp because I just don’t believe that those words are appropriate for any situation.

That being said, I have been called many variations of those words because I am a woman who enjoys being with men.  There is an enormous double standard where sex is concerned.  Men who enjoy it (and let’s be honest, what man doesn’t…) and have multiple partners, or always have a different partner, are considered Alpha Males.  Women who do the same get called tramps.  I never saw much sense in that.

There is nothing wrong with knowing what you like and going for it.  There is nothing wrong with enjoying sex and having lots of it.  Now, of course, with anything there are limits.  I think you have to be smart about it.  Use protection, know who you’re sliding into bed with enough to know if they’ll respect you and your wants and needs (Hence, my single one night stand experience).  In other words, don’t be an idiot.

If you set some rules, follow them and don’t make exceptions, I think you can avoid the negative things usually associated with sex (unwanted pregnancy, STI’s, AIDS, emotional/physical damage, etc…). 

You can disagree with my views all you want, but nothing you say will make me feel guilty about it.  You can’t change my mind or shame me into altering my lifestyle.  This is how I have always felt.  Sex is a good thing.  It’s not dirty or shameful or a huge secret.  It is a physical expression of love, or affection, or desire.  There’s nothing wrong with two people sharing in it, if they’re both ready and responsible.

Since this is turning into a huge, long post, I have decided to split it into two posts.  Tune in next time for Part 2!!

--Lemi

Boyfriend #1: Jon

I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to share all of my thoughts with you.   I promised I would be baring all, and I fully intend to.  The difficult part is coming up with a way of sharing without scaring.  I know that I am writing this for myself, mainly.  But if I'm being honest, which I usually am, I know this is the internet, and I know that someone out there is going to find this and read it and I would rather not have a bunch of strangers thinking I'm some sort of tramp, or lunatic.   

I guess I should start from the beginning.  That's really the only way to start anything.  I already skimmed over my childhood.  I had it pretty well.  Considering the state of the world, I had both my parents, who love each other and are still together to this day.  They set a good example of love, relationships, endurance etc...

My dad was a huge part of my life.  He supported me in my endeavors, loved me and taught me that not all men are pigs.  My mom was loving, kind and hard working.  Like most Southern women, she could really cook.  She wasn't afraid to knock some sense into you with her words, and make up for it with a steaming slice of apple pie to ease the sharpness. 

I think what I'm trying to say is, I don't have daddy issues, or divorce issues, or nobody loved me enough while I was young issues.

What I do remember is being fascinated by the idea of love and romance from a pretty young age.  This shouldn’t surprise anyone, because most of the things that little girls are exposed to are centered around the idea of true love, weddings, finding that perfect guy and beauty.  I remember watching those animated musicals and wondering when my life would get like that.  I read about other people’s love lives in books and magazines.  I watched romance after romance, where the same actresses fell in love with the same actors with varying story lines.  I spent my free time fantasizing about meeting my one true love and spending our lives happily together.  I think this is the case for most little girls, and even most pre-teens.

I think it was around high school that I started realizing that it just wasn’t like that in real life.  As much as I had dreamed about boys and what came with them, I was sorely out of touch with dating and the entire male sex.

Don’t get me wrong.  I suffered through the agony of first crushes.  I watched as everyone around me rushed head  first into adolescent love, only to be spit out the other end a few weeks later, hearts broken, vowing to never date again.  I was always interested in getting involved with someone, but was never put in a position to do so.

I didn’t even lose my virgin lips (as it was popular to say at the time) until my senior year.  That’s right.  This boy-crazy girl didn't even kiss anyone until she was 17!  Like most firsts, it’s still pretty cringe-worthy.

This brings me to my very first experience with relationships, and as it happens, my gateway into the world of men.  It was my first few steps on a journey that lead me to where I am now, and consequently where this whole lifestyle began to take form.

Boyfriend #1: Jon

To say that our relationship was dysfunctional is kind.  This was a time when texting and Facebook were in the peak of their fad, and sadly, that’s how most of our relationship took place---electronically.  Inevitably, that’s how it started and finished.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Jon and I knew each other through school and church.  He was tall, really thin and had dark hair.  He looked like a basketball player, and played it throughout high school.  As I recall, he was pretty obsessed with it.

I was actually a grade older than him.  Dating a younger guy isn’t as exciting as they make it seem.  At least in high school it’s not.  Maturity levels even from grade to grade vary extremely. 

Our relationships was, as I said before, mostly electronic.  That’s how he asked me to be his girlfriend, how we communicated daily, and how we had most of our conversations.  I was a senior, with a lot of things going on.  He was a junior with basketball, friends and other boyish things to do.  We never hung out at school, and since our lockers were in different places, really never saw each other.  We did, however, hang out a lot on weekends.  We pretty much made out and watched movies.

We dated my entire senior year.  We went to Prom together, hung out at football games, and made out in each other’s basements.  We never did anything physical beyond that.  We text about doing other things a lot, but nothing ever came of it.  We were both too inexperienced in that realm and it made us shy away from it. 

He did cop a feel once while we were in my basement.  It was past midnight, and his curfew.  We were kissing like mad and his hand made its way up my shirt.  We both hesitated.  He snaked under my bra and cupped me awkwardly.  We kept making out.  He stayed there for a few seconds and then pulled away.  We never talked about it, and he never did it again.

Looking back now, I see just how strange that relationships was.  Not only did we never have actual conversations, we didn’t have that much in common either.  Our time together was spent lip locked in dimly lit basements while the soft glow of the TV washed over us. I remember fantasizing about marrying him.  I realize how delusional this fantasy was now.  Time definitely gives perspective.

The word that comes to mind when I reminisce about Jon and our time together is—awkward.  The whole thing was just odd.  Since neither of us had anything to compare it to, we both thought it was how a relationship worked. 

The whole thing fell apart when I moved away to college.  We had text about what we wanted to do…whether we were staying together or calling it quits.  He had told me that he didn’t want to date anyone but me.  I thought it was cute then.  It was naive to think that a high school boy would want to stay attached to a college girl states away.

We hardly ever talked.  We occasionally text and mostly chatted via Facebook.  Since we didn’t have any physical contact anymore, we really didn’t have anything to maintain.  Our contact slowly faded.  After about a month of nothing, I tried calling him to talk about ending things.  He was with his friends and said he’d call me later that night.  He never did.  So, I resorted to our usual means of communication, and chat him on Facebook.  I basically told him that I didn’t want him to be tied to anyone and that we should just officially end things.  I received a reply a few days later that he was sorry, but felt the same way.  And that was that.  I was never sad about it.  I guess we hadn’t really been in a relationship for a while.  I only maintain that it was my first relationships because we did exclusively date each other for over a year.  But truly, it wasn’t a real relationship.

I later found out that he had been fooling around with a few different girls during my absence.  I was never really hurt by it, since our emotional attachment hadn’t ever really existed.

A few months later, he text me again.  We talked back and forth for a few weeks, mostly dirty things.  We sent each other some naughty pictures (I stole mine from the internet, because I was too scared to really take them of myself) and then we stopped talking again.  This proved to me how much we didn’t know each other because they didn't look anything like me.

His family moved away from Texas and I haven’t heard from him since then.  I am mostly relieved, because seeing him after all of these years would just be reliving the awkward.  I don’t care to see him again.  I’m sure he feels the same way.

So, these were the first steps into relationship-ville that I ever took.  Needless to say, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.  It wasn’t really anything…and it didn’t do much in the way of preparing me for the world of men.  But it did give me vast kissing experience and a clear view of what I didn't want in my next relationship.

You're probably wondering why I shared this.  I promise, it's all leading up to where I'm at now.  I think that everyone's relationships play a role in getting them where they end up. My therapist says that if I review my past, I might dig up a reason for my current behaviors.  I still think most of what he says is bogus.  I think they want a label for everyone, and if they can't immediately find one, they grasp at anything to give one to you.  But for the purpose of this blog, I will forge on.  Revealing my relationships and life story to reflect.

And there you have it.  My very first boyfriend.  My first kisses, make out sessions, 2^nd base adventure and break up.  Tune in next time for the continuing story!

--Lemi

Introductions

I've never kept a journal of any kind before, so this whole blogging experience will be new to me.  I think the first post is supposed to be sort of introductory.  I guess I'll get to that part later.  For now, I want to tell you why this blog exists and what I hope to accomplish by filling it with my life.  So, here we go.

I'm writing this blog to keep track of myself and those I interact with.  This wouldn't be so hard if I lived any semblance of a normal life.  You'll see what I mean.  I want to remember.  I want to have something to reflect back on when it all goes away.  I want proof that I lived, so that when I'm 80 (if I should be so lucky) and bed ridden, I can read and laugh and know that I had it pretty good.

This blog exists so that I know I did.

I've called it In Bed With Lemi, because I feel like that's what you'll be doing--crawling into bed with me.  Come slide between the sheets with me and hypothetically shed your clothing.  I'll be baring all. The name seemed appropriate to me.  I wasn't thinking of it in a sexual way, but I suppose that's fitting.  You'll see what I mean.

If I'm really being honest, my therapist recommended me starting this.  I don't particularly enjoy telling people that I'm seeing someone like that.  It's not like I can't sort through my own affairs without help.  But it's nice to have someone to share with, even if he's paid to do it.  It's nice to talk and know someone's listening.

A little about me:

I go by Lemi.  It's pronounced (Leh--Mee).  No, that's not my birth name.  I don't think I'll ever divulge that...I don't care for it much.  Since I know you're wondering, no, Winks is not my last name either.  But that's what I go by, so that's what you can call me.

I think I'm a fairly normal person.  My therapist disagrees.  He's constantly telling me that I live a very unique, self inflicted life.  Self inflicted.  Like there's really any other choice.  Everything we do affects ourselves, whether we realize it or not.  Everything is self-inflicted.  He wholeheartedly disagrees with my 'lifestyle'.  Those outside of it usually do.  He's always trying to find a reason or underlying cause for my actions.  I keep telling him I just do what I want.  What sounds or feels good.  He keeps telling me there's something more.  But I'm pretty sure he's wrong.

I grew up outside of Dallas.  Anyone who's anyone knows that's in Texas.  I have both my mother and father and an older brother.  Significantly older.  I was a 'wonderful surprise'.  I later found out this meant that my dad thought he couldn't father anymore children...but I'm proof he could.  I've had my skeptical moments, but I've done the research.  I'm definitely his.

I had a typical childhood.  Bike rides, family trips, public education etc...I guess that's what passes for typical these days.  Growing up in Texas means that I appreciate a good steak, football season and the occasional rodeo.  But I don't consider myself a country bumpkin, or a hick.  In fact, unless I tell people I'm from Texas, or they catch me during a game...they don't even know that's my home.  I worked hard to get the Southern out of my mouth when I moved away to college.  I think I'm pretty successful.  It does tend to come out when I'm pissed off.  Otherwise, I'm careful.

I don't live there now, of course.  I could never get away with what I do if I lived anywhere near my hometown.  People talk.  And I won't drag my family into any of it.  You'll see what I mean.

Now, I live in Washington.  The state, not the capitol.  I find it odd that I have to make the distinction.  If I lived in DC, I'd say it.  But people always ask.  I finished my undergrad studies at WSU.  I am at the tail-end of my graduate studies right now.  I have about 3 semesters left.  I'm an English major.  I know...it sounds like what every female does when she doesn't know what to do.  But I really enjoy writing.  I plan on entering the publishing world.  That's my emphasis.  Plus, it's easy to bullshit your way through a paper.  It's not easy to do in math or science or any of the other areas.  If you are good with words, you can pretty much convince anyone you know what you're talking about.

I'll admit right now, I care about words.  Misspellings drive me bonkers.  But I really couldn't care less about the grammatical side of things.  I know the rules.  I get that it's important, especially when editing and publishing.  But for purposes of this blog, I don't care.  Grammar has its place.  But the blog-sphere is not one of them as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, I live in a small rental house a few miles from campus.  I used to have a roommate, but that didn't work out too well.  I prefer to live alone anyway.  I can do what I want when I want without any concern for anybody else.  It's a nice way to live.

Right now I work for my dad.  He runs a business out of Texas that provides services nationwide.  I'm his contact for Washington.  I basically schedule and keep track of clients on the West Coast.  It's a nice gig, since I set my own hours and the income is steady.  I've caught a lot of flack for living off of my parent's money.  But technically the money is mine. I earn it...even if it does come from my dad.  People say a lot though, and it never really bothers me.   I'm debt free and in graduate school, bitches.  Talk about that.

This has kind of turned into a long post.  Sorry about that.  I'm not really sure who I'm apologizing to for that...since I don't expect to have any readers besides myself.  Sorry future me.  If you wanted a short read, you're in for one hell of a surprise.

I guess that's enough for now.  I don't want to jump into too much right off the bat.  I'll ease into it slowly.  Like slipping into a comfortable bed.  You enjoy it.  Slowly.  Gently.  If you're going to be in it for a while, you might as well take your time getting in.

That's all for now.  I don't promise I'll be writing every day, but I'll try to keep current.  See you next time!

--Lemi