(Photo: Celeste Noche)
I haven’t always been a sexually free person. Actually, historically, out of the 30 years I’ve been on this earth, sexual liberation is a pretty new concept for me. But in the last few years, I’ve gotten more serious about becoming OK with sex. And not just sex, but my sexual identity.
That is, who I am as a sexual being. What my needs, wants, and desires are. What my sexual voice is (and how to use it). How I can exercise my erotic power and agency.
I’m definitely a lot further along than I used to be. I no longer have panic attacks when I have sex. I can initiate it without feeling like a fumbling teenager. I can actually listen to and heed my sexual hunger rather than denying it. I finally know what I want and can ask for it without it sounding like an apology.
But there’s always more work to be done, always new territory to venture. The sexual healing I’ve done up to this point has allowed me to feel braver to explore the deeper depths of my desire that trauma and anxiety wouldn’t allow me previously.
In 2017, I felt like I finally hit a stride with my sexual expression. In previous years I felt like I relied on a “fake it ’til you make it” attitude to explore and experiment with certain erotic personas and curiosities. But last year, I wasn’t faking so much. I was actually doing and being the sexual person I wanted to be from a place of wholeheartedness, completely in my body and the present moment. The pleasure I experienced wasn’t sporadic or given to me by accident. In 2017, I was consistently showed up fully and engaged in sex (and sexual expressions) that I really, really wanted.
In 2018, I want to enjoy this new feeling of comfort around my sexuality and my sexual body, and I want to give myself permission to play with new things as a result of that comfort.
In 2018, I want to expand the spectrum of who I am as a sexual woman.
Usually, I make a list of specific sexual and sex-related acts I want to do for the new year as my erotic resolutions—try a yoni egg, more mid-day sex, more butt play. But in sitting down to write my intentions for 2018, I felt an urge to stray from actions and get more into feelings.
Like, how do I want my sex life to feel this year? How do I want to feel when I am in the act of sex? How do I want to feel when I’m expressing myself sexually? What kind of sexual being do I want to be in 2018?
Here’s what I wrote:
I want to feel brave, open, at ease.
I want to feel in control in sex while staying soft and going with the flow at the same time.
I want people to feel my erotic energy when I walk into a room, when I sit next to them on the bus, when I pass them on the street. And I want them to feel from that energy that I am a woman unto myself, that what they’re feeling coming off of me is not for them, that I am not asking for anything. I want to use that soft, erotic energy as a weapon.
I want to be the kind of woman who doesn’t micromanage her orgasm, who gives herself one when she wants one, even if it’s in the middle of the day when her primary partner is home.
I want to be the kind of woman who doesn’t shame herself for the way she gives herself an orgasm—whether it’s with a vibrator or with the help of porn or with lots of lube. I want to be the kind of woman who uses masturbation not just to get off, but to explore a deeper, more intimate solo sexual relationship with herself.
I want to be the kind of woman who invites other to explore her body, who breaks down the walls of protection to let others sexually close to her. I want to be the kind of woman who is comfortable being sexually vulnerable, who trusts herself and others with her body and desires.
I want 2018 to be the year of sensual sex. Where I’m totally present to the sensations of pleasure happening in my body. Where I’m an active participant in my pleasure. Where I only have sex that I say an enthusiastic and visceral Yes to.
And if I finally get a yoni egg and have more midday sex, I’d be OK with that too.
May 2018 bestow upon you all of your hopes, dreams, and sexual desires.