Learning to ask for what I wanted.
I am a very sexual person. I am one of those people that would be completely content spending half of my waking hours having sex. I have basically been that way since becoming sexually active. I also have been pretty damn kinky since becoming sexually active. Neither of those things is acceptable in the culture I was raised in.
Now, to be fair, that wasn’t the family I was raised in, but I am not going to try to deny the messages I received as a girl and woman in America that told me I was supposed to not enjoy sex as much as I liked chick flicks, candle lit dinners, and romantic walks on the beach. Spoiler alert: I don’t like any of those things.
I was blessed in the fact that the boy that I became sexually active with had a bit of kinky streak and no shame about asking for what he wanted, but that didn’t outweigh his sociopathic brain. Needless to say, I came out of that with a lot of self-awareness for someone without much experience about what I did and didn’t like, but also with no skills about how to assert what I wanted.
My next relationship was one in which I never was able to feel secure. We were on again and off again constantly. I never was comfortable enough to truly be able to express myself without fear of rejection. It was in that relationship that I learned that I didn’t need kink. What an odd thing to learn in your second relationship. Isn’t it normally the other way around?
In between that relationship and my next serious one, I had a few sexual partners, but there was no lasting relationship in which to have the trust to express how I kinky I really was. Sure, some of them knew a little because we were friends long before we fell into the sack together, but they only knew that I was kinky, not what turned my crank.
I finally ended up with them man that would become my life partner. He was very experienced. I was a newbie compared to him. I was insecure. I didn’t know how to express what I wanted. It took me a year to open up about the flavor of my kink, and I found out that he had no experience with it. He was willing to try it, and we experimented with it. Over the course of a few months, he taught me how to talk about what worked and didn’t work.
We would talk the day after we did something new, so we were able to think about it. We still do when we introduce a new kind of thing to our repertoire. I learned that, if I expressed what worked and what didn’t, we built trust and intimacy. He didn’t judge me at all for what I liked, and I didn’t judge him.
With my new partners, I am still a little nervous about telling them just how far the rabbit hole goes, but I now have the confidence to at least start that dialogue even if I don’t quite let it all hang out at once. I find that talking about one or two new things every few weeks or months is the right time frame for me. I like truly working out if something is right for our chemistry before jumping to the next thing, and many of my partners agree with that philosophy.
Continuing to ask
In my experience, the worst time to ask for something new is in the heat of the moment. I tried that, and others tried it with me. It puts a person on the spot. Instead, my partners and I discuss new things outside of sex, foreplay, or flirting. We come to the table like scientists. We discuss the pros and cons of something. We ask questions. We research it if we need to, and then once we are prepared, we actually try it out.
Afterwards, we come back to discussing what did or didn’t work and decide if it is something we will try again. In the end, we love trying new things because we create a safe environment to do so in.
I am very lucky to have people in my life that feel the same way about sex as I do. I couldn’t imagine a life trying to pretend that I gave a crap at all about long walks on the beach or rom coms. I mean, if that is your thing, more power to you. Someone has to like that stuff; it just isn’t me.