For one night only

15th Aug 2023 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’m a single woman. We all know this. If you read enough of my blogs then you also know that I’d probably rather not be this: I’ve no issue with being on my own, nor do I feel lacking in any value because of not being in a relationship, but forever being the third wheel or the raconteur of a tedious story has gotten old for me now. So, with this in mind, allow me to take up the next few minutes of your day by being a raconteur of another I’m-a-single-woman-get-me-out-of-here story.

A few weeks ago, I was out with a friend and we did what we always do when we go out together: we got silly. During the getting ready part of the process, we’d decided that that night was going to be one of those where we dressed unnecessarily spicy, drank cocktails and basically did a tour of all the bars in the area. Inevitably, this ended with her gushing to every gal in the toilet about her lovely boyfriend, and me flirting with someone in the smoking area, both of us with arms covered in stamps from the various clubs we’d marched into.

I’m not someone who gets with someone every single time I go out – and I’m defining ‘gets with’ here as meaning either kissing or sleeping with someone, or anything in between – because a lot of the time that’s not on my mind, or there’s nobody there that I’m attracted to. Nonetheless, I’ve still had my fair share of one-night stands. And to be honest, some of the mornings after have included shaming myself for sleeping with someone I met in a club because the patriarchy has a tendency to both, directly and indirectly, label me as a slut for doing so. I’m glad to say that I’ve since grown out of this, as it soon became clear that the dating scene really isn’t providing the goods and my libido still requires as much respect and attention as the men around me are allowed to give their own.

However, there’s really nothing worse than ending a fun night out in bed with a stranger and disappointing sex. Going home with someone you just met is obviously always a bit of a gamble anyway when it comes to having enjoyable sex, but my friends and I have been mentioning a recurring theme that requires some immediate attention.

The stereotype tends to be that men enjoy sex more than women, that women need an emotional connection with the person they’re sleeping with to enjoy it at all, and that generally, women are far more likely to become emotionally attached to a man after sleeping with him. All bullshit. Not specific to any gender, not true; all dangerous assumptions that contribute to it feeling acceptable for women to leave sexual experiences disappointed with the men sitting pretty because they got what they wanted.

I’m a huge believer in the possibility of sex being fun regardless of the emotional connection between the people having it. Obviously, if you’re in love then sleeping together is undoubtedly going to mean more, you’ll know each other’s bodies better, etc, etc. But that doesn’t then also mean that a one-night stand is always going to be terrible; it just depends on how you’re approaching it. For example, you meet in the smoking area of a bar, and you have a very mutual flirt where both of you are putting equal amounts of effort in. You get along – possibly superficially at this point because you think he’s hot, but it still counts – and you enjoy the chat so much you think yes, let’s continue this somewhere else. The whole time this has been a mutual interaction. So why then when my friends and I tell each other these stories, are we each so excited about times when lads have continued this mutual display of effort into the actual sex?

The level of energy you’ll see in a woman’s face when she says she actually enjoyed the one-night stand isn’t really one I can describe, but if you’ve seen it, then you’ll know that there’s pretty much always an air of surprise accompanying it.

The fact is, sex is only ever going to be fun if we’re both involved – or if everyone is involved, I’m not going to make assumptions about what you’re into here. Putting effort into it doesn’t equate to emotional attachment, it just means you’re showing the person you’ve gone home with the respect that they deserve. After all, they’re not there just to service your needs and if you’re not going to give them the correct energy, then they could’ve gone home and had a more fulfilling time with themself.

Where I’m at now, I’m not interested in one-night stands. Odds are it’d be a let-down, so I’d rather dance with the girls, maybe kiss a stranger if his moves are good enough, then wake up in the middle of my own bed. No shame if casual sex is your bag at the minute, just make sure the person(/people) you’re with is giving as much as they’re taking. It’ll be more fun that way.

It’s all just a bit too vanilla if you ask me

24th Oct 202224th Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

This is going to feel quite strange to type, but my blog is nothing if not a reflection of what my friends and I have been saying to each other recently, so I’m just going to get straight to it: the ladies in my life are immensely sexually frustrated right now. Some have already fallen victim to their impulses by texting someone that they absolutely shouldn’t, but I hold out hope that by bringing attention to this problem on the blog, we can save some of my friends from that same unfortunate fate.

But before we dive into the details of the sexual frustration complaints I’ve been hearing from the gals, I’d first like to draw attention to the fact that a woman’s desire for sex is vastly underestimated by our society. I mean, most cis lads I’ve come across have assumed that their libido has always been way stronger than that of their cis female peers, but my god, I dare you to spend twenty minutes in a women’s bathroom on a Friday night, or eavesdrop on a group of lasses having a meal together, and then tell me the same thing. Women aren’t nearly as passive as we’ve been told we should be.

Western society has always had a tendency to think that women should feel apathetic towards sex unless there’s something wrong with them, in which case they’re totally obsessed with sex to the point of mania. So basically, either a woman isn’t really bothered about it, or she’s got a problem. This, along with all the other super helpful aspects of living in a patriarchy, has meant that women often feel like they shouldn’t talk about their sexual desires because if they do then they’re going to come across as a slut. However, there’s often a moment in female friendships where you and the woman you’re speaking to try to work out whether this is a safe environment for you to say exactly what you’re feeling, without judgment. It doesn’t always work out this way, but if you’re able to establish that type of trust as an aspect of your friendship, then you’d be lucky if you ever stop talking about sex and relationships with each other.

So, let’s get back to what the ladies have been saying recently then, shall we? Well, the general consensus isn’t that these young women aren’t getting attention from men – lots of them have dating apps where they’re messaging a few lads, or they’ve got some sort of work romance on the go. Their frustration, it seems to me, is coming from the fact that they’re not excited by any of it; the lads they’re meeting up with are lovely, and the conversations are nice, but they want passion. They want someone to give them a good old (consensual, of course) grab, kiss them up against a wall, stop tiptoeing around, and be told exactly what the lad’s thinking so they don’t have to keep guessing and can skip to the fun bit.

But finding this type of connection is difficult and incredibly rare – I’m still holding out for it too gals, don’t worry, I get you. And it’s tricky because when we complain about this heavy sense of boredom we’re all feeling at the minute with dating and sex, we can forget that sometimes we’re expecting lads to read our minds and make all the moves. Clearly, this is us enjoying an aspect of patriarchy that places the man as the one responsible for moving a heterosexual romantic relationship along, but it’s not entirely fair to expect that. However, I for one have made a lot of moves on lads and haven’t gotten much back so yes, it’d be nice to have one do the same for me at some point. And I’m sorry boys, but from the many many tales I’ve heard from young women, you’re actually a bit hopeless at reading signs…even when those signs have been the lass literally saying ‘I really like you, let’s do something’. At that point, you’ve got nothing to lose man, take a (not so risky) riskkkkk.

It goes without saying that romantic relationships are difficult, and navigating the early stages with someone that you don’t really know that well, trying to work out whether you’ve upset them or stressed them out can induce a lot of daily stress. Also, I know that I’m coming at this from the cis-female heterosexual perspective and hence it won’t be relatable for everyone; for example, I’m sure that men have plenty of frustrations they’d love to voice about dating young women as well. But just because something isn’t relatable to everyone, doesn’t mean that it isn’t relatable to anyone, and I’ve had far too many conversations with my female friends recently where we’ve been laughing/screaming/laughing about the lack of romantic passion in our lives.

So, to conclude, the ladies don’t want to date or have sex for the sake of it right now, they want something exciting; someone to be interested in them enough to make romance and sex fun for everyone involved. We’re just holding out for a bit more flavour.

Well that was a bit silly of me

5th Sep 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Okay but, why is it that whenever I get bored, lonely, or horny (or heaven forbid a combination of all three), I think it wise to make some stupid decisions? Something happens in my head where I think that for some reason, a lad who I’m definitely not that interested in not only requires my attention, but he also deserves my stress and occasionally even my tears. I swear to you, if I had a pound for every time I’ve gotten irritated over some romantic situation, where, if I actually took a step back and thought about it, I’d decide I was really not that invested anyway, then I would be a very rich woman right now.

And I know that everyone says this but I promise you, pinky swear and lock it in, I don’t enjoy the unsaid games which happen before you’re in a relationship with someone. I can’t be bothered to wait for ages to text someone back, I don’t care about how long they take to text me back – unless it becomes clear that they’re playing the game, then that does irritate me – but more than anything, I hate how being involved in the game makes me overthink EVERYTHING. And yet, I still do it! Often with people I don’t even like that much! I’m also incredibly picky and very very rarely say yes to going on a date with someone. So am I part of my own problem? Possibly.

I think that part of it is that if you actually sit and think about the efforts a person would have to take to not think, speak about, or see romantic relationships in everyday life then you come to realise that it’s kind of impossible. Every time you turn the television on, it doesn’t matter if it’s reality tv or a drama, odds are there’s a hefty section devoted to finding a relationship, being in one, or leaving one. Then you walk down the street and someone’s being cute with their partner, or there are advertisements suggesting what you should do with your partner, or what you should buy them. Plus, you’re judged if you go out and do things on your own, let alone the lame fact that it’s kind of unsafe for a woman to fly solo in towns and cities once the sun has gone down, so even if you wanted to go for a drink on your own, there’s that little voice in your head wondering whether it’s worth the potential hassle.

Therefore, we’re encouraged to be lonely, we get bored, and if those two weren’t enough, the sex drive comes along to make us momentarily ignore that part of our brains which tells us that something is probably not a great idea. Because maybe it is a good idea for the near future. And it’s not that deep anyway! And they’re interested in me! Or they seem to be… And it’ll make for a fun story to tell everyone tomorrow morning.

I try not to waste time regretting my actions, since I know that if I were put in the situation again, I’d probs do the same thing anyway, but sometimes the embarrassment does find its way into my internal monologues and when it does, you’ve got to flush that shit away like a spider in the bath.

But second-hand embarrassment aside, at least I try to treat people the way I’d like to be treated so it’s not as if I’m out here being a massive cow when I’m making questionable decisions. However, this isn’t the part where I promise never to text someone who I know is only going to play some game and then irritate me by doing that, because ladies and gentlemen, I am silly at times. Buuuutttt, I will congratulate myself for finally being decent at knowing when enough is enough and just deleting the conversation thread. That’s some solid character progression right there. Go me.

So,you think you’re a sl**

24th May 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

At this age, lots of us like to sit with our friends and rip into each other for all the times someone has been a liiiittle questionable when it comes to their romantic relationships – whether those relationships be purely sexual, on the road to something stronger, or somewhere in between. Maybe you’re the prolific dater, maybe you’re the type to get with someone then change your mind the second they start to like you, maybe you really enjoy flirting with people but you’re too picky (*cough* scared *cough*) to commit to something serious. Or, maybe you’re like me and you’re a combination of a few… 🙂 ! Well, whatever you are, as long as you’re not being awful to people, then I don’t see much harm in it. And, the chaos does make for a good drinking game.

I’ve posted enough blogs by now for you to know that I’ve never been in a relationship, and that the lads I attract tend to be a whole lot of talk and very little walk…HoWeVeR, I have been the third wheel for enough relationships (and been involved in enough situationships) by now to be able to say something about how we’re treating each other. And the main thing that I’ve noticed is that people are so terrified of being on their own, that they stay or get themselves into situations simply because it’s comfortable, and/or because out here in the single world most people are screwing each over left right and centre. I mean, the sheer lack of respect I’ve heard (and seen) demonstrated by some single people when they’re talking to or getting with someone on a night out is ridiculous. And there’s just no need for it!

I’m not saying that we can all come out of every experience looking like the good guy, because no matter how hard each of us might try, there’s always going to be a few moments when we’ve messed up and we just have to swallow that. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t at least try to not be a d*ck, though. Yes, this age is probably the best and most convenient age to get with as many different types of people, in as many different situations as your heart desires because it’s a time when we’re free to put effort into figuring out who we are and what we want, but be aware of what you’re doing as you do it pls.

I’m a big believer in the power of surrounding yourself with sex-positive people who don’t feel the need to apologise for their sexualities because as much as I’m also very sex-positive, there are times when I can fall victim to the voice in my head that likes to give me a cheeky slut shame when I’m hungover. And it’s never about how many people you get with because I know lasses who feel rubbish about the 1 or 2 people they’ve slept with or texted again when they shouldn’t have. It’s about the fact that lots of us aren’t allowing ourselves and others to just have a little bit of fun.

Personally, I’ve not been hurt by a lad in quite a long time now but that’s just because I got bored of being disappointed and making all the moves, so I’m leaving it up to the lads to have the balls from now on. But me having that perspective right now, doesn’t make it inevitable that I’m going to start being rude to a lad who I kiss in a bar by ignoring his texts or playing with his emotions. It also doesn’t mean that I wake up the next day and tell myself off for kissing someone I don’t intend to date. And finally, it most certainly does NOT give me an excuse to judge and shame my friends for having a different approach to romance than me.

So if you’re going to take anything from this week’s ramblings, let it be the acknowledgement that even though it’d be impossible to never be the bad guy in relationships, that isn’t an invitation to always forget about respect. Ask out who you want to ask out, kiss them if you’re both into it, try and be nice about it if you’re not, and go on, have a bit of a FLIRT!

My dissertation was about sex! :o

5th Apr 20225th Apr 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 2 Comments

Considering that quite a few of you took part in the research, it won’t come as a surprise that I wrote my dissertation on whether physically disabled women are perceived as sexy by the societies they live in. (Big big thank you to everyone who took part btw). I don’t really fancy plagiarising myself here though, so I won’t go into the minute detail of the dissertation, but since so many of you contributed and were interested in the topic, it’d be rude of me to not give you the low-down of why I chose it, and what I discovered. So buckle up kids.

If I’m honest, my diss was partly another effort to understand why my love life insists on being so dire. In my first year of university, I wrote a blog about how a friend had asked me whether I thought my disability had ever hindered lads from asking me out or taking things further with me, and what I said then remains true for me now: yes, it has, but I’d be shocked to see anyone admit it. From all my research, and from what I’ve literally seen, able-bodied people are tentative to date or be intimate with physically disabled people (whether maliciously or not), and for the ones with the disabilities, this has at best resulted in being ignored or passively rejected, and at worst just straight-up abused.

The work that I’ve done so far is minuscule when compared to how much work needs to be done. I looked at ‘physically disabled women’ in particular but even that phrase is kind of hollow because it doesn’t even begin to describe the vastly diverse group of people it’s trying to categorise. Furthermore, I didn’t have the words or time to study the impact of race, gender, economic background, type of disability, and all the other aspects which would inevitably influence the experience of sexuality for individuals. I also didn’t have the opportunity to talk to disabled people directly; I used a tonne of literature, but nothing can come close to hearing the words from the ones who feel it. So, whilst my work was informed and (I hope) useful, to call it the tip of the iceberg would be a huge understatement, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I continue to write about this for the rest of my life.

Nonetheless, the overarching theme of this dissertation was one of acceptance and optimism from most of the people who answered my questions. What I will say though, is that often your optimism was naive; it was comforting, but it didn’t really line up with the reality of the world. People gave the correct response by saying that it shouldn’t matter if you have a disability, and it shouldn’t matter how that impacts sexuality because anyone can find love, sex isn’t a fixed thing, and disability shouldn’t ever threaten a person’s ability to experience pleasure within relationships. Only, saying that something shouldn’t happen, doesn’t make it not happen.

For months, I’ve been exposed to the disabled experience on a level that I’d never seen before: for the first time, I was reading and listening to things that felt totally relatable rather than 85% there. The fact is that like all of the ‘isms’, ableism is so ingrained within our society that just because I have a disability, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have prejudices against the disabled community. There’s plenty to unpack there, but I think I’ll leave that for another blog (or two, or three…). But to generalise, the truth is that we’re so concerned with looks and frightened by what we don’t personally understand, that the disabled body has been persistently and systematically defined as undesirable and in need of a cure. To put it even more plainly: I’m disabled, so that means that my body is wrong, so it can’t be pretty and it definitely can’t be sexy, and if someone does find it pretty, then that’s not because of the disability, it’s despite it.

Obviously, there are grey areas here, and each individual can (and is) judged to be beautiful, desirable, and every other positive adjective by individual people. But finding one disabled person gorgeous doesn’t a perfect society make. There need to be some HEFTY changes when it comes to what ‘society’ and individuals understand disability to mean because for pretty much all of history, it’s equalled a mistake that we should ignore and just wait until it dies (or kill it before it lives).

So…how did it feel to write this, when I was sort of writing about myself? Well, it wasn’t great to hear that disabled women are far more likely to experience abuse (psychological and/or physical) within romantic or sexual relationships than able-bodied women. Nor did it feel amazing to read countless experiences of disabled people like being asked to leave restaurants because their appearance might put people off their food, or being persistently pushed to the side and dismissed as irrelevant and pointless. It also almost brought me to tears in the library to read women say that it’d been easier for them to tell people who’d assumed that they couldn’t have children because of their disability that they were right when they weren’t actually right because they could have kids, but the support for disabled women just isn’t there since everyone assumes that they can’t have kids anyway and if they can, then they shouldn’t in case they pass their disability on. But again, that’s not even scratching the surface.

Disabled people aren’t the weak, infirm victims history and modern culture paints us out to be and there are so many examples of fulfilled, happy lives with a disability. However, I share the sentiment that I read basically all of the disabled community expressing, in that the worst of the ‘struggles’ I’ve already had and the ones I’ll continue to have aren’t because of my Spina Bifida, they’re because this world is doing its absolute best to ignore me until I croak.

The thing is though, I’m a loudmouth who’s got a loooot of years left and I plan on making people talk about this because, regardless of whether you’re disabled or not, it has everything to do with you. I hope that in some small way, my blog or whatever else I do in the future can contribute to disabled people actually being listened to and valued because we deserve your attention.

If I can manage that, then that’s a win really innit?

P.S.

Can we all pls manifest that I get a good grade on my diss lol IMAGINE

Netflix and..?

18th Jan 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

So guess what I tried out last week then.

*guesses*

Tinder. I tried Tinder. lol.

Now, there will be quite a few people who know me very well who’ll be thinking ‘what is she on about, she’s had that app plenty of times before’. And yes, I downloaded it at points when I was a bored teenager, looking for some validation from strangers, as well as something which felt slightly risky to do. I know, I was a wild child: hold me back. Then when I started at university, the pulling scene was tragically dire because nobody here seems to be able to do anything without a drama ensuing, or, it turning out that that random person you got with the other night knows every person in your friendship group. (You might think that I’m overexaggerating, but I’m deadly serious: everyone’s connected in Durham in some way or another).

So yes, I’ve HAD Tinder on my phone before. But have I kept it for more than 3 days? No, I have not. And have I expended much energy texting anyone before? No, I have not. So this time, with the New Years’ Resolution of no drama in mind, I took to the internet and I committed to having Tinder on my phone for a week. Which doesn’t sound like very long, but it was quite substantial for me.

The reason I’ve always been so quick to delete Tinder is simply because I don’t like how soulless the whole thing is. I’m not on board with the fact that you’re judging people in a matter of milliseconds based on the photos they’ve chosen to represent them; it takes away all of the fun of being surprised by someone having good chat, or being really funny, or clever, or charming, or any other aspect of what actually makes a person a person. Also, the pressure of writing a bio to describe exactly what I’m like is far too much. I can’t be funny on command. Plus there’s the whole thing of, do I explain my disability straight away, or do I wait until we meet, do I want to have those conversations on Tinder with a stranger? blah blah blah

More than anything though, I’ve always had a level of anxiety around the idea that I’d spend time texting a stranger and then have to actually MEET UP with them. And I know that that sounds stupid, since I’m not shy in social situations, but maybe the fact that I’ve never been on a ‘first date’ before makes me freak out at the idea of what it would actually be like, so then the concept of seeing someone I’ve met from TINDER (!) goes against every instinct I have. Nevertheless, a few of my friends have had successes when it comes to the app, so I thought in this romantically hectic university environment, I’d give it a go.

I’m not going to go into crazy details about my experience but long story short, I texted someone for a few days, he was nice, I was feeling spontaneous and I went round to his to watch a film. (Before you start, we did actually watch the film, that wasn’t a euphemism.) As nice as the evening was however, it did solidify that the Tinder life is just not the one for me. It’s too orchestrated. I know that it depends on what you want from it, and I definitely wouldn’t want a relationship from Tinder, but even the prospect of just wanting sex out of it, I don’t know, I think I like the build-up too much.

As far as I’ve seen, the pandemic has made it so we’ve kind of forgotten how to flirt with each other. We’re so not used to being able to be in rooms with people we know, that we don’t always remember how much fun it can be to interact with total strangers. To me, flirting isn’t something you only do with a person you’re attracted to and I know that that approach has gotten me into trouble a bit sometimes because people have misinterpreted my intentions towards them. But speaking to someone in a flirtatious way can be subtle and nuanced, and merely a method for having a bit of a laugh: it really doesn’t have to be that deep.

So, there we go, the second week of January 2022 showed me that I like the dance of working someone out when I first meet them, and Tinder just sucks all of the fun out of human interactions for me. If it doesn’t do that for you then power to you – everyone’s different. But, I don’t think that that app will be making an appearance on my phone again any time soon and if you do spot me on there, then ask me if I’m okay please.

Is physical disability really that much of a turn-off?

24th Sep 202126th Sep 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I remember in my first year of university, I was asked by one of my friends whether I thought that my physical disability had ever meant that people found me less physically attractive. (He had perfectly sound intentions by the way, and knew that that type of questioning wouldn’t offend me, so we’re good.) My short answer was yes; not because of any insecurities, or because I was fishing for pity-filled compliments, but yes because I’d seen it happen right before my eyes. I’ve seen lads begin to chat me up, then at the mention of a disability, turn the other way, and I’ve consistently had more success on a night out when I wear trousers to cover my shoes, or when the place is too full and too dark for anyone to see.

As real as they seemed, these were still always just suspicions derived from body language and facial expressions. So I’d wonder. Could it really be true that the sight of some metal bars on a young woman’s shoes is enough to intimidate? Is physical disability that much of a turn-off?

This week I read an article where George Robinson (the actor who plays Isaac in Sex Education) spoke to the BBC about sex and disability: two words you rarely see mentioned in the same sentence. I won’t summarise the article here as I’d prefer you read it yourself, but one part which really hit a nerve for me was when the reporter wrote that in 2014, 44% of the British people asked said that they wouldn’t consider having sex with someone who was physically disabled. And I emphasise ‘consider’ here because that wording is particularly cutting.

I could go on and on unpacking this statistic, but what I’d like to first draw your attention to is the fact that the term ‘physically disabled’ describes a hugely diverse group of people, and yet it seems that society associates it exclusively with paraplegic wheelchair-users. That in itself is mad and highlights so many issues in society’s narrow understanding of disability, however, my main concern today is the suggestion that physical disability strips a person of their sexuality. If you’re disabled then you have no sex drive, you’re unable to have sex, or whatever type of sex you can have isn’t normal and is shrouded in stress and embarrassment, and you’re not sexy.

Frankly, I never thought I was sexy. And I attributed that to the layers of misogyny which group young girls and women into the boxes of cute, pretty, sporty, or sexy. (We can unpack those toxic elements of the patriarchy another day). But now I realise that it was my being disabled which contributed to the surprise and disbelief I felt if someone called me sexy. I’d just never known that I had access to that word because no one who looked like me had ever been described as it. At least, I’d never seen it.

Thus in my late-teens, when talking to boys and developing crushes on them, I’d always envisioned that my disability would be peripheral in our relationship and it’d be something that I’d prefer him to ignore as much as possible. I’d want support when I really needed it, but if I had ever gotten a boyfriend then I’d wanted him to treat me like a ‘normal’ girl. Depressingly, hindsight makes me realise that 17-year-old me was equating ‘normal’ with able-bodied. Then when I went to university I started speaking to a lad who never once asked about my disability, after months and months of talking. I found myself conflicted because it was sort of what younger me had always wanted, but older me didn’t see how we could ever start a relationship if such a big part of my life was going to be ignored: it didn’t seem practical.

So now I’ve decided that I want something truly radical: I don’t only want a romantic partner to be interested in and tolerate my physical disability, I want him to find it attractive. I want him to look at my surgical scars and find them as beautiful as he does any other part of me. I don’t want to have to reject my disability in order to feel sexy. But as any reader of my blog will know, I’m yet to experience much more than a casual relationship with a lad so I can’t end this on a Disney note where I say I’ve found everything I’ve ever wanted and here he is *ta-dah*. Nonetheless, there’s one specific experience I’ve already had where I got a glimpse of what it might be like.

One morning I woke up next to a young lad I’d slept with a few times before. I cared for him, and enjoyed his company, but I didn’t have any romantic feelings towards him. I was used to him being affectionate by moving my hair out of my face as I slept, or kissing my shoulder, but on this particular occasion he took it further, as I woke up to feel him carefully tracing the curves, indentations, and lines of the lump on my lower back. That lump is the root of my disability, and it’s been something I’ve tried my hardest to look at as little as possible, let alone touch. So as I woke up, I realised what he was doing, and I lay there as he gave the most emotionally and physically vulnerable part of my body more love and attention than even I had ever given it. It was nice: I felt safe.

That young lad, even though he probably had no idea what he was doing, emphasised just how important it is that when I find someone I want to be with, they have to understand and love my disability as much as they love every other part of me. It’s not something to be ignored, and it’s not something which strips me of my sexuality: people and prejudices do that. But I don’t believe that the 44% statistic is rooted in malice; rather, it’s rooted in ignorance and a misunderstanding of disability. We all want love and to feel wanted, but I don’t see why my physical condition should decide whether I qualify for that or not.

I’m physically disabled, I have a sex drive, I enjoy sex, and just like everyone else, the details of how I like to have sex are only your business if I decide that you can make it that far.

You free later?

18th Jul 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’ve written many a blog about romantic relationships, men, flirting, sex: all those topics which easily draw a crowd. But often my writing shows, as I’ve said before, the more logical part of my personality. I conveniently omit moments when I’ve failed to follow my own advice because everyone likes to present the neatest version of themselves to the internet and honestly, I can’t see myself regurgitating every detail of my life on this blog or my social media pages any time soon. This isn’t because I’m trying to mislead anyone, it’s because I’ve no obligation to and it’s nice (healthy, even) to keep some things private.

Obviously I’m going to tell you about something today though…

For over a year, I was subconsciously slut-shaming myself every time I slept with someone and I didn’t even acknowledge it. The logical, feminist, part of my brain always knew that it was a misogynistic and nonsensical thing to do, given that every time I’ve had sex with someone it’s been consensual and feeling guilty about it afterwards was never necessary. I never cried about it or said really hurtful things to myself; my method of slut-shaming was way more insidious than that. In the days after having sex I’d low-key pretend that it didn’t happen, give in to embarrassment, and avoid any contact with the boy ever again. But doing that started to feel silly after a while.

I’d realised what I was doing through the conversations I was having about sex with the young women around me, and decided it was time to stop partaking in this form of psychological self-harm. I know why I was doing it though; it was because I’d really rather not sleep with different people, so every time I did, I felt guilty straight afterwards. I’d have this stressful internal monologue of not regretting the sex, but wishing it’d been something more interesting than just that, with someone I knew better. However, I don’t know anyone I’d want to date yet, so does that mean that I should numb all urges I feel for physical interaction until prince charming comes along? No, that doesn’t seem right either.

The ideal situation for me earlier on this year was to engage in a good, old, friends with benefits relationship. Yet, there are so many unspoken rules when having sex with a person that the idea of sending the ‘you free later?’ text just made me cringe. Frankly, I thought I didn’t have the personality to ‘pull that off’ – an idea no doubt derived from the patriarchy suggesting that it’s abnormal for a woman to want to have sex simply because she’s horny – something I recognise as complete bullshit, of course. But we’ve got a lot of internalised patriarchy to undo here on the daily, so yes, when I texted a lad I trusted asking if he was free later for the first time, it felt weird. No regrets after doing it though heyooo.

I know that I’m fortunate to have so many sex-positive people in my life and that it’s a luxury not everyone has. There continues to be countless women out there who spend a stupid amount of energy telling themselves to stop feeling what they’re feeling. But you’re not only horny when you’re in a relationship and you should never make yourself feel guilty about when or who you want to have sex with. It’s a toxic way to waste your time, and even though stopping doing it hasn’t made me want a relationship less, it’s made sex a lot less associated with guilt and embarrassment in my head. Which is definitely a win. So go get your kicks with whoever you want, whenever you want, and start taking better care of yourself by taking control of your sexuality.

Oh, and if you and a couple of your friends order vibrators at the same time and split delivery, it’ll be cheaper.

Let’s talk about sex, bby

15th Nov 202015th Nov 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Talking about sex in a super honest way is rarely done, because if you bring it up, a lot of the time people start to feel nervous, uncomfortable, anxious, self-conscious, etc, etc. And these reactions make perfect sense: sex is one of the most intimate things you can do with another person. However, it’s also nothing to be afraid of, so we should probably start getting more aware of how sex-positive we really are.

Sex-positivity, in the way I understand it, is the recognition and acceptance that sex is a totally normal part of a person’s life. It’s something most of us do, and society should normalise talking about it; especially in the sense that it should be enjoyable for everyone involved.

That sounds pretty simple, right? If you’re sexually active, then you should be enjoying it, and comfortable enough around your friends/family/sexual partner/s to talk about it. But unfortunately, sex-positivity isn’t practised by society as much as it should be.

For women, the idea of sex is both empowering and oppressive. We can take our sexuality into our own hands and decide who we want to sleep with and when, but whilst we’re empowering ourselves and our female friends, there always comes a point when you wonder whether doing this is making you seem like a bit of a slut to the wider world. And nobody wants to be a slut: that kind of reputation rarely ends well.

So we use the word with each other. And by trying to reclaim the term, women are somewhat able to fight against society telling us how much sex we should be having, because after all, my sex life is nobody’s business but my own.

This attitude, however, doesn’t mean that sex-positive women aren’t self-conscious, nervous or conflicted when it comes to sex. You might be totally fine with the concept of a one night stand, but then when you have one, thousands of years of female sexual oppression might start creeping into your head to tell you that you’re a slut and you’re making a fool of yourself. It happens; sexism’s a bitch.

Generally speaking though, sex should never be a thing that’s only appropriate for each gender to speak about amongst themselves. At school, I never saw how it made sense to separate the boys and the girls for the sex education talks. I obviously need to know the details of what’s going to happen with my body, but there’s a whole other half of the population that I’m actively not being told about. So when I develop relationships with that gender, there’s this huge barrier between us already, and I don’t see how that’s helpful.

Sex encompasses so many ideas and emotions that are vital to our relationships with ourselves and each other – regardless of gender. Politics, history, science, philosophy, psychology, anthropology: you name it, talking about sex would probably make parts of it make more sense. But aside from all that nerdy stuff, sex is fun, so why not talk about it in the same way you talk about all the other things you enjoy? That way, when it isn’t fun, you’ll feel comfortable enough around someone to tell them why.

An Indelible Friend

Tag: sexpositivity