I've actually never been particularly sexually shy. I have always embraced my big, beautiful body, never letting my own body image get in the way of a one night stand or a cheeky Tinder date. Sex has never been where my negative body image came to the surface. Damn, I was hot when I slipped out of my black underwear and sat on the guy's lap. Or, at least that's how it was. Right up until I met Søren.
Søren also started as a Tinder date. He quickly became my savior, someone who saw me as I had never been seen before. Someone who always thought I was hot and wanted to rip my clothes off. He was quick to pounce on my need for the use of vibrators during sex. He did everything to satisfy me. At least the first months.
The happiness ran out and, seen in the clear, bright light of hindsight, I was quickly caught in a web of psychological violence, of both social and emotional control and a constant sense that I had done something wrong. I weighed the atmosphere every time I entered a room, whether Søren was in it or not. It quickly spread to the bedroom. For the majority of our relationship, our sex life was about him. When I approached sex with my satisfaction in focus, it was quickly shot down. Søren was very insecure, there is no doubt about that, but he used me as a means to be the greatest himself, and that is the worst thing I have ever been exposed to.
If I wanted sex, I was too demanding. I didn't want when he wanted, I didn't love him enough. My sex life before Søren had been shameless, but it just became more and more shameful. I registered my increasing need to cover myself up, put the covers over me, keep the T-shirt on and turn off the lights. Otherwise, I have always loved being watched.
In the last time we were together, uncertainty increased as the humiliating experiences became more and more frequent. I could hardly bear him seeing me without clothes on, and positions in which I stood, more or less exposed, were close to unbearable. My use of vibrators was commented on, I was told it was selfish and not considering him. My body was commented on, my body hair, my biggest insecurities. He said I should want to have anal sex with him now that I had it with an ex-boyfriend years ago. Today, I only think about how big an alarm bell it must have been; that I didn't trust him enough for that, which I had otherwise always been very relaxed about.
The violence escalated and I got away. Gone in time, you might say. Nothing had happened to me, I was still young and the world was at my feet. At the time of writing, it has been almost a year since I left. And it's the best decision I've ever made! However, I soon discovered that something was not as it was before. My mind is the same, but I'm a bit more insecure - especially in relation to romantic relationships. I don't feel ready for that. I decided early on that my sexuality needed to be 'reclaimed'. I was well aware that it had been my own for a long time. It has only become more clear to me as time has gone on.
Just as sex with another person had always seemed completely natural to me, sex with myself had been the opposite. It was something I had only practiced sparingly, and never during periods when I had a boyfriend. Porn was also part of a narrative about others, about something men used, and at least not something I had experience with. Honestly like that. I don't know what kind of 'pretty girl' complex it was. Shut up, I love it. Even more, I love that the female and sustainable angle is becoming easier and easier as a consumer to find on the big internet. I started following some 'sexy' profiles, for example @sofieschwartz , @kh_underlivet (which quickly lured me into @klub_venus ), and I re-listened to specific episodes of the Fries Before Guys podcast , and slowly I wanted to talk about my own private sex life with my girlfriends. Along with social media, my best friend has been my biggest inspiration to have a less shameless relationship with my own sexuality again. In connection with Christmas, I made sure that we got girlfriend vibrators (an idea I will pass on to EVERYONE, shut up it was a good idea!). And let's just say; It has only brought us closer together.
You could probably say that my sexuality has gone from only being okay with others to now only being okay with myself. I certainly hope not, that scenario is the same in 10 years. There I will hopefully have a partner and some children, and thus also have the courage to let another person into my sexual space again. But for now, I think that this is the exact right order in which I have found my sexual self. I still find myself struggling, but my sex life has definitely become a lot less shameful than it was right after the breakup. This text is actually also part of that liberation. I love talking about sex! I love talking about my body, and I hope that one day I will gather enough courage to share even more (naked) of my body and sex positivism.
Without a doubt, my best advice to you who need to reclaim your own sexuality is to ally yourself with someone. It doesn't have to be a 'personal' alliance in any way, but just the fact that you start to get some everyday sexual inspiration into your Instagram feed is moving something. My experience tells me that you should seek what provokes you. Every time I've come across a profile that for one reason or another has outraged me, either because it tickled my shyness, because it was something I thought seemed 'wrong' or 'too much', I've rushed to press 'Follow'. It is without a doubt what I have learned the most from. If you dare, seek out your people. If they want to talk about sex, they probably have to bite the bullet quickly.
And last but not least: So give it time. There is no need to panic. The sex I have with myself is at least as important as the sex I don't have with others. It will probably come again. Until then, I will enjoy coming every time, without having to explain how and where the dune is. Heh.
Søren is a made-up name, Klub Venus knows the person's real identity.
