Some people kiss and tell, some don’t. I do. I have a ridiculous trait that ensures I am excited about pretty much anything that happens in my life. When this excitement hits me, I can’t help but want to tell somebody about it. This is very much true when it comes to sex.
If I’ve had a bonkers experience, like that time when some random Birmingham chap walked into our hotel room, pardoned himself from walking into the wrong room as I froze, naked, then laughed uncontrollably at the bizarreness of what had just transpired – especially as we still have no clue to this day how on Earth he managed to walk in our locked hotel room in the first place, then I’m going to want to tell somebody about it. If I’ve happened to have really great sex, I’m going to want to tell someone about it. If I’ve happened to had not so great sex, I’ll probably want to talk about that too. I can’t help it, it’s my nature to be a blabber mouth about things that excite me or at least get me giggling.
When telling some friends of such stories, I do tend to try my best to be careful which ones to tell, in case of judgement. That’s not a great mentality to have when thinking of telling a close friend a story, but sex seems to have an ability to create a stigma. Even though we may have reached 2015 (well done everybody), sex is still regarded as crude, and those of us who have a lot of sex get labelled very, very quickly with some rather nasty words.
When I was younger I didn’t quite understand sex, and was consequently labelled by those who I thought were friends, which was particularly horrible. Now sex and I are good chums. We’ve seen some stuff and done some stuff. It’s much better now then it ever was. Yet, as I continue to have new experiences as a fully-informed, healthy young female adult person, I still feel the heavy judgement on my shoulders from some. A judgement that I’m sure if I were a healthy young male adult person I would not have to listen to or feel as it swamps the air that surrounds the conversation.
I will never apologise for my sexual history or my sexual future. Sex is one of the most natural things we do, so why would any of us have to apologise for having fully consented, fun, sweaty sex? As sexual beings, we are walking and talking bags of chemicals, muscle, blood, skin and bone. Those chemicals are the magic that make us feel everything, and sometimes those chemicals just want us to get our freak on.
It doesn’t matter if you’re having sex because you want sex, or because you want to show someone you love them, or because you just want to feel something. You can have sex for whatever reason you want. It’s a brilliant stress release; it even gets rid of headaches; the gazillion reasons to have sex outweigh any silly and obsolete views about how one’s sex life should be limited, and even boring.
So I say to anyone whose even been criticised for the number of sexual partners they have had, or that time they had sex on a first date, or even when they revealed to a close companion all the kinky shit they are into, that you’re not a whore, or a slut, or easy. You are a person who likes sex, and that’s perfectly fine. Actually, that’s better than fine; I much prefer people who are open about liking sex, so I’d say you were perfectly brilliant.
Sure, you may have had some sex that you regret, I think that comes with anything that we do. Each time will not be perfect, but each time will not be disastrous either. Either way, do not let anyone make you feel any less of a person by making a mean comment about your sex life. It’s your sex life to have, not theirs. Enjoy it, because one day you’ll be old and sex will be even weirder.