There is a trend that I have noticed in speaking to women that after they have a child their sexuality seems to become dormant. I was one of these women.
Before my first offspring, I remember having a very hungry appetite for sex. Growing up we were always told that males maturity for sex peaks younger and women hit after 30 years old. I worried that maybe I’d hit my peak too early and it would all be down hill from there. I found that once I become a mother, I still wanted for sex but didn’t know how to feel sexy in my own skin and enjoy pleasure in the same way that I had before.
I’d become a prude. I’d become unwilling, shy, embarrassed, distant and detached from my sexual psyche, living in worry I might never get it back.
Many many moons ago, when I first pleasured him orally, he rebuffed my enthusiastic sex act and I have always suspected that this, along with other factors may have shut down my sex drive. I didn’t realise that at the time though, and for a disgustingly long time I applauded the wonder that I was off the hook from giving blow jobs! (Every girls dream right?) It played into that concept that good girls don’t do that, and mothers don’t do that. So even though it was something I previously and profoundly enjoyed, I hopped on the blow jobs are awful train and rode that bitch for over 8 years.
8 years is a long time and seems like more when I think about how stunted I felt I was becoming and didn’t know why. Over the course of the last 3 years of that time, I began having rather awesome and confusing sex dreams that would interrupt my sleep and play on my mind when I was awake. I was confused, because all my dreams ever included, was me giving my partner a blow job and that was something we didn’t do. We’ve always had a pretty normal sex life, with plenty to be satisfied enough, taking into account life.
I applaud couples who manage a really really regular sex life. I envy you. I wish I could have sex all the time. I think I must have a perverted brain because I think about sex a lot. The reality in my world is though, that things get in the way. This year alone, we’ve had snotty gross illness, hospitalisations, leg injuries, work problems, money problems and stress. Not to mention we are still catering to a 5 year old who isn’t completely sold on sleeping in her own bed.
The key to me slowly unravelling the hungry nymph was to start finding ways to talk about the sex, our sex, any sex and oral sex. Even when it made me blush, cringe and cry. (Yes, sometimes I have cried about sex, maybe about not getting enough, or feeling hopeless shameful.) It was excruciating, difficult and it took time to express the picture I was painting in my dreams. My own feminine sexuality started fighting back against the constraints of what I was being fed by society.
Hold back sex.
Hold back blow jobs.
Don’t do that it’s gross.
Don’t do that he’ll think you’re cheap.
Husbands need to work if they want sex.
Blow jobs are special treats for men who behave.
This viciously played on repeat for a long time until the only thing I really craved was to be able open myself up to embracing vulnerability and to yes, suck his cock.
I’m happily rediscovering my hyper sexuality and imagine that if we lived in a different time I’d be treated in an asylum for Hysteria but since, we don’t and I’m not, I can enjoy getting to know those parts of myself that were locked away for so long.
Sex is an important part of me being able to feel connected in my relationship, and it really does relieve stress. If there are hundreds of women out there not orgasming, either with or without a partner (that’s right you can fly solo ladies) it might explain all the #restingbitchface.
I’m so over sex being demonised. I’m so over women feeling shit for liking sex. Just fucking over it.