Whore, Party of One?

I am a whore.

Okay, I'm a reformed whore. (?) What the hell kind of sense does that make?

WARNING: This is a graphic blog entry, sexual and raw in nature, and is not intended for the faint of heart, or those plagued with random cases of the 'vapors'. Of course, if you already read my blog, this is nothing new. Please, continue.

The funny thing about the term 'whore' is that it usually carries a negative connotation; I look at things a little bit differently, and it has served me interestingly, if not well. In high school, I looked at sex through pure, innocent eyes. I wanted to wait until I was married, or in a secure relationship before I gave myself away. My parents didn't talk about sex.

Do you remember the sex talk you had with your parents? Here's mine:

Mom: Have you had sex?
Jess: Umm, no. (With nobody except my right hand, that is. Of course, I omitted this.)
Mom: Do you know about sex?
Jess: I think so?
Mom: DON'T EVER LET ANYONE STICK ANYTHING IN YOU.
Jess: Good talk, Mom.
Dad: Scratches head, turns red and runs.

That night, I flipped my bedcovers back to find a couple of circa 1962 sexual education pamphlets tucked under my pillow. I read them, and getting excited by the 'anatomical diagrams', got off to my very first porn. Thank you, sexual education pamphlets.

From then on, I was more than a little confused about sex, so I secretly consulted with my dad's "hidden stash" of Hustler and Playboy magazines. My first honest thought: So every woman is a lesbian? My second thought: Penises are intriguing.

Then came Kurt. Aah, the first real boyfriend, the one I wanted to make sweet, beautiful, perfect love with. I envisioned a picnic on a warm June day; flowers, wine, assorted luncheon meats (it WAS a picnic), and of course, Kurt dressed like the cover of a Harlequin romance novel, his long hair ruffled by the breeze . . . Instead, I got a basement at 4 a.m., and the bemused thought of: Really? That's what all the fuss is about? Clearly I did it all wrong!

The natural next step was to consult Cosmo, which of course, had all the answers. Oh dear God, what a mistake. Suddenly, I was trying to pose like a supermodel while in the throes; desperately trying to remember all the tips in the 'touch him this way, and he'll BEG for more' section. All the while, and this has carried on up until very recently, I didn't enjoy sex.

(WAIT. Let me be clear. I almost always have enjoyed my sexual experiences, but have never mentally and emotionally let myself go enough for a man to get me off. That has happened by accident, of course, but I always closed the most intimate and wonderful part of myself off. Which, I believe, is why I used to go through sex partners like underpants. The other explanation, of course, is that I really enjoyed a sexual buffet.)

The thing is, I am 28, and in the middle of a sexual/sensual revolution. Since the only person I want to have sex with is a few states away, I have plenty of time on my hands (giggity) to figure out what makes me happy - and more importantly, how I can convey these things to him. You may ask, 'Why Jess, is this important now? Why not years ago when you were just a junior whore?' The answer is that in my life, I continue to evolve. And now that sex is being denied me, I can do nothing but explore my sexuality. And frankly, this is the best gift I could give myself.

I used to have sex with different men, with the thought that one will magically know and understand my body with zero prompting from me. And HE would be 'the one'. Silly, yes, but every little girl has her fantasy (some girls dream about their wedding day - I dream of orgasms and fast cars; books, and well-read, articulate men). Regardless, I had an AHA! moment about a month ago.

The problem wasn't with these men; the problem lay with me and my unwillingness to explore, and to let my guard down. My personality requires that I read about something before I understand it, and absorb it into my life, so I checked out a few web sites (links to follow) for some education. I think the best advice I got from these sites wasn't advice at all; it was the knowledge that sex "is like a dance; it's about giving and taking, and the partnership of two people". I had lived so many years thinking that I was a second-class citizen in the bedroom, and that my sole purpose was to blow his mind, and if I got off, all the better. But that's a bit of nonsense now, isn't it?

Now, really, think of it. Sex is like a dance. It's about giving, and taking. It's about exploration, and learning about one another in a safe, open way. I guess that instead of eating from the man buffet (i.e. being a traditional 'whore'), it's more satisfying to open up to one repeatedly, explore and enjoy the dance.

John, come dip me ;)