Sex.

Blog Post the First. Well a post over 100 words, that is. No topic filtering. Sex is on the brain today. Sex is what you are going to get. Well, maybe not literally. I know I’m not. Hence the post.

Let’s not be coy about the subject. I grew up in a family / religion where discussing sex just did  not happen. I distinctly remember the day when my dad decided it was time to give me “the talk”. Painful. I was in Grade 9 or 10, and well, fairly educated by that point. He made a nice blue binder with photocopies from his 1970’s medical textbooks and brochures from his medical clinic. My sister and I had to then sit beside him and read it all aloud. Every. Single. Word. I remember crying. Why would anyone want to spend their Sunday nights doing this?

In church we were faithfully taught: “sex before you are married is bad”. Don’t pet, poke, heck, even look. I remember being in my Bishop’s office when I was probably 16 and being instructed that when kissing boys I should only kiss them as if I was kissing my father. Well, I don’t remember the last time I kissed my father. My guess is that I was probably only 6 or 7. So that advice to me was translated as “don’t kiss boys”. And that just wasn’t going to happen. Ok, I know I was much older when I had my first non-drama-class kiss. 21 to be exact. But I quickly made up for lost time.

I digress.

I didn’t have sex  before I was married. I had opportunities. Some I knew I wasn’t ready for. Some I wish to this day I would have taken. And then I got married. And still didn’t have sex. I know there are many folks in MOMs, either where both parties are privy to this knowledge, or not, in which sex does exist. It didn’t for us. Not even the wedding night. As the marriage disintegrated, I again passed up opportunities to fulfill my near-crazy thirst for sex, but vowed to myself to exit in dignity, and wait until the divorce papers were signed. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I needed to do that. At one point I had decided that I was going to go out the day he left (I kept thinking/hoping that he would just one day vanish), go to the bar and just, well, let whatever happen happen. It didn’t quite happen like that.

I was conflicted for many months. Should I? Shouldn’t I? Ack! Opportunity #1 came knocking. I could tell he didn’t know what he was doing, not worth it. Opportunity #2 came knocking. Almost. So very close. Definitely appreciated what he did for me. And then at that point I decided that if it happens, it happens. The Opportunity #3 … it  happened. And now .. well I have 29 years (or maybe 14, assuming I started to sexually mature at 15) of supressed sexual desire to fulfill.

I’m not sure if I like the way that sounds. But it is true. It’s on my mind. A lot. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a teenage boy.

I don’t feel guilt for abandoning the moral/religious belief that sex outside of marriage is bad. Maybe I will one day. Ok, I do a little bit once in awhile. But mostly, I just feel hungry, and then un-hungry for the times when I’ve been fulfilled.

I’m not getting a lot sex these days. Mostly been taking care of myself. But I’ve been doing this for years. It’s not quite as enjoyable as the real thing, you know, now that I’ve experienced it.

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