Sex - A Raw and Vulnerable Share

Research

Culture has codified sex as a no-no place. Something women should submit to but never speak of. Even today, there’s a lingering feeling of wrong-doing in the writing of this. I know it’s not me issuing these declarations, but the fear remains. What if my parents read this and are ashamed of me? What if people call me a slut? Am I a bad person for wanting to air out these taboo topics?

So I conducted a risk assessment (consulted my intuition). Every morning for weeks, I wake up and start this article (see 17 drafts). Every morning, I talk myself out of it. Let someone else do the talking. You don’t know enough. It’s too risky. This could permanently damage your reputation. You could hurt innocent people.

But the psychic nudge remains. Suppressing the urge to talk about sex is too similar to suppressing the urge to have it. And my hands won’t let me keep quiet anymore.

@christhecocreator

My hope is to write with integrity. While honoring the truth of my experience.

The truth is, I spent 15 years in a sexless marriage. We were compatible in every other way. Best friends, teammates, on the same page about parenting, same sense of humor. I have never known a better man than this one. Nor would I choose anyone else to be the father of my children. I was supported in my every artistic and professional endeavor. Given backup when I needed a break. My marriage was beautiful, generous and generative. And because of these things, it made it more difficult, nearly impossible to conclude that this would not be enough to sustain us.

We laugh that we never would have split up if we’d stayed in my Louisiana hometown. There, the vines of convention, tradition, and religion run thick fingers around your ankles, eyes, and throat. When I would share my concerns with friends, they’d advise me to try harder. To commit to once a week. It would get better if I kept practicing. They told me to stick it out because, by all standards, I had it pretty good. They needed me to “make sense.” To adhere to the arrangement agreed upon by all couples. I don’t blame them. But it meant I was wholly convinced there was something catastrophically wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just be content with my lot? How come I insisted on kicking up dirt - desiring more than I already had?

And so, I did what I knew how to do. I drank to silence the screams. I drank to shrink my loud longings. I drank to tolerate the shape my life was confined to. I didn’t know any other way to reconcile the difference. Between the life I wanted and the life I was living.

So I drank. And I drank. And I drank. And there were other reasons why I drank. And no, my life wasn’t all that bad. I let drinking become my new lover. The one whose silent approval allowed for blessed moments of reprieve.

And I drank. And I drank. And I drank.

I will come back to this. I have a novella more to say. And I will say it because I don’t believe I am alone in the feelings, the sentiments, or the chock-full pages with not enough space to cram all the words that have been crammed down our throats for too long without the saying.

As with all things I process with you here, I will be a different person tomorrow who might feel differently. But today, I am not convinced there is one singular person for every singular person on the planet. One match made in heaven who can fulfill one’s every need for the rest of one’s life. One person to have sex with forever and ever in everlasting bliss and contentment. I’m not convinced. Although I do believe some couples are lucky and do find this. It is likely the exception and not the rule.

Maybe I’m jaded because I was not one of them. The binding agreement of marriage did not work for me. Or maybe my situation is not as uncommon as the Disney of our 80s upbringing has led us to believe.

I love you, and I’m sorry if my truth punctured something within you. I know the feeling. I’ll sit with you in it. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You just have to do today, today. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. There is so much hope in this story that I will share in the coming weeks. The chaos is the opening. The portal. The not knowing is where the new knowing can enter.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I know it’s a complex subject to navigate, but if you have any insights or wisdom, I’d love to hear your take. (As always, in this space, you’re invited to share your personal experience; no unsolicited advice or spreading of hate and division, please.)

Dear Friend,

Thank you for being here. Your readership means everything to me.

Rosie

P.S. If these field notes, anecdotes and essays have helped you along your journey, please consider upgrading your subscription to help me continue doing what I love most: writing and creating content in service of collective transformation. Every upgrade helps! Thank you!

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