Tag Archives: Politics of Sexuality

Sex and Self-Harm

Sex and self-harm can often go hand in hand, even out of the sphere of sexual abuse. The first time I cut myself I was 18, I etched the word worthless into my arm with a needle. That began my love affair with self-mutilation.

It was my drug, my fix, it made me feel better than any man ever could. Because of years of sleeping around I was disconnected from myself, and my emotions. I did not know how to cope,or feel anything like a real person would. I was forever stuck in this role as a real, live sex toy. All the pain I felt, all the words I could not express, I took out on my skin. My scars speak when I can’t find the words to.

I worked at a very popular lingerie store and I met a girl there that cut herself too. She used sex as a means of getting a guy to commit to her, but it never quite worked out that way. A girl in my class also cut herself, and she slept around too.  When I hung around the pimp/ prorn producer I saw a girl drunk, dancing in the living room of some random apartment with scars all over her arm, just like me. Sex and self-harm is prevalent.

After half a decade of sleeping around, I needed to be drunk to have sex, or I needed to be high. It stopped feeling good. I couldn’t feel anything but I reveled in the male attention. After all, having sex was better than being alone, or being bored? Right? Needing to be under the influence of any type of mind altering substance to perform sexual activities with a man is self harm.The escorts do it, the women in porn do it, and if you have been having casual sex long enough you probably do it too, we all need something to take the edge off.

Because I slept around so much I had to be perfect physically. I starved myself because I wanted to be a fantasy.I had to maintain the flat stomach, the 19 inch thighs with a little space in between them. I basked in the glory of what some men thought was physical perfection. I never starved myself to the point of death, or it being too obvious. I starved myself to the point where I couldn’t sleep at night because I was so hungry and, my stomach would get swollen every time I ate.  I got a high off of being hungry. That is self-harm. No woman should have to starve herself for sex. Doesn’t casual sex sound liberating and empowering?

Some would say that my experience with casual sex wasn’t so bad. I got a long term relationship out of it. I got proposed to. I had numerous boyfriends. I went to marvelous parties. I met a few famous people. Superficially, it doesn’t sound so bad. It actually sounds fun, maybe to some.

But if you stripped me naked you would see my scars. Ugly, dark, and permanent like the constant turmoil inside my mind. How could I have been hurting myself for almost a decade? Even after I stopped sleeping around I couldn’t really stop.

The cutting began six months into my relationship with the man I am still with now. When I stopped jumping from man to man is when it caught up to me. Sleeping with multiple men was my way from running from rejection, it was my escape, it was my band aid, the thing that got me through a lonely night, it made me numb to the world, and it was the action that stroked my ego. 

Casual sex can be used as self-harm. If you’re having sex because you feel that you have no other option that is self-harm. Sex with a random guy because you feel worthless is self-harm. Sex is not meant to hurt you emotionally.Sex is not supposed to be a punishment.

My scars remind me that I am human. I am more than more than a sex toy. I can hurt and I can bleed. They remind me that I have feelings and having emotions is okay. They remind me that I am alive.

If you are struggling with self-harm, there is help. It’s not easy, but you will heal and recover. Your scars only show your tenacity, and that you got over a really hard time in your life. 

Help : http://www.selfinjury.com

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds,” Psalm 147:3. Jesus is always an option. If no one else wants you He does,scars and all.

Advertisements

Memoirs of a Human Waste Can

Use and dump. Use and dump. That’s what sex with random men can start to feel like especially if you are not getting paid for it, thats just the honest truth. As I stated earlier, I started having casual sex in my early to mid teenage years, and I often felt like a dumpster afterward. I was the place they released their aggression, and stress. Often times they disgusted me. They were weak, disgusting and perverted men.

I remember being over at a friends house for a sleepover, and I remember her brother sneaking me out of her bedroom so he could have sex with me.   I was so tired, and groggy that night from drinking and smoking that I just lay there, hoping he would finish. I lay there like a lifeless, emotionless waste can.

When I was a little older I moved to Arizona with my parents. There I met the man that introduced me to the sex industry. He made porn, he was a pimp, you know stuff like that. You see, at 18 I was still curious like a cat. One evening he invited me over to his apartment, this was before I knew what kind of “promotional modeling” he meant, he took me to meet all of his brothers who happened to live in the same complex. He introduced me to all of his friends and their fancy cars. Then he took me into his bedroom, which was dark like a dungeon, except that one of the windows were open. I will always remember that window which was just an arms length reach away. We’re in the bed and he’s kissing me, fumbling awkwardly with my body,  when I tell him its that time of the month, sorry. But he insists, he is persistent, I whisper the word no,and he shuts the window. He proceeds to pull out my bloody tampon, I really don’t have a clue what he did with it. I just remember asking him to finish, and licking his ugly bumpy, hairy nipple, because that is the only way he would finish, he wouldn’t stop until he ejaculated. Not that he used the word ejaculated, I’m just trying to be proper.He then dumped his waste on my stomach. Here I was again, in the same position, a living, breathing, human waste can.

Cranberry and vodka always makes me sick. For some reason, men seem to keep it around when they want to get me drunk and have their way with me. I met this guy once, I can’t remember his name, but he was one of the most attractive men I have ever seen, or have ever been with. He had green eyes, olive skin, pink, soft, full, lips and his body was as chiseled as the statue of David. I went to his house with the intention of having sex with him, not with his father, and his father’s friend. Here I was drunk off of vodka and cranberry, with a dried out vagina, suffering through painful sex as his father wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. I felt like a dead animal being dissected.But that is what casual  sex is all about dismembering and dissecting the other person’s body.  They had me arms pinned open, legs pinned open underneath the ceiling light in his father’s bedroom, as they tried to rub more lube on my vagina, so the son could finish and make his dad proud. Luckily, his dad’s friend was so drunk he couldn’t get an erection and all I had to suffer through was him rubbing his dirty dick on me. I wasn’t drunk enough to where I didn’t remember pieces of  what happened, I was drunk enough to the point where  I didn’t care.

As a teenage girl I loved having all the attention on me, that’s why I started having  threesomes, with a guy and his cousin. One night, we were supposed to just hang out as friends  but then of course they both got horny. I decided to have sex with the one I favored first. Thinking about it now, I did not get any physical gratification from this situation. Anyways, here I am 100 pounds looking up at this 200 pound guy as he thrusts me. It feels like hours because it hurts so bad. And finally he’s done. I can’t take anymore, but his cousin holds me down and begs and begs for his turn. I start to crawl away and he pulls me back down on the floor with him, its only going to take him one minute he keeps repeating. At this point I am too tired to fight, too tired to move so I lay there as he thrusts what has already been damaged and shredded. That minute felt like it was never going to end.There I lay on the floor, a broken and bruised dumping ground.

And the stories like this could go on and on. Sounds like fun right?

I know that I am not the only woman in the world with experiences like this. This is casual sex gone wrong is probably what  the majority of you are thinking. But there is nothing casual about these situations which are all true, and which have all been watered down summaries of what happened to me.

For the teenage girl, and the woman out there who has experienced those things similar to this, I want you to know that you are not alone. This is the ugly side of casual sex that no one really wants to talk about,its not pretty, and it does not feel good.

Despite what I have done I still have worth. God still loves me and wants me. I took those pieces of the person I was and  I made myself  into a better person. Casual sex was not the be it and end all of me, after all I’m only 23. These painful, shameful, and embarrassing sexual experiences do not define me and they do not define you too.

Believe it or not, after you have finished abusing yourself sexaully, and letting men in your life  use and dump their filth on you, there is life, love and hope.

Casual Sex, Panty Etiquette, and Self-Worth

When I was a teenager I thought  my self- worth jumped out of my bedroom window along with me. I thought I lost it along with  favorite my panty that night. I noticed when they fell out of the van but I was too ashamed to pick them up. Knowingly, leaving behind your panty is poor panty etiquette. It’s not cute, and you have just wasted your hard earned money on a panty you will never see again. I have never heard of a man forgetting his boxers, or briefs so the next time you decide to have casual sex, remember to take your panty with you.  Because my panty kissed the pavement only three blocks away from where I lived, I had the pleasure of passing by them day after day. They looked pitiful discarded on the side of the road, wet, dirty, discolored and run-over, kind of like how I felt back then. With each passing day the appearance of my  panty got worse, and finally, one day it was gone.

I knew then that my panty would be forever lost to me. I knew then that I would never be able to erase the impression of his penis from my vagina and I thought then that  my self-worth was gone. I often felt the pang of regret as I walked passed the same spot my panty used to lay.

As time went on, I realized that it wasn’t the panty that I missed so much. It was the events of that night that caused me grief. I wanted to take back what I thought I lost that night. I thought I lost my self-worth somewhere in that van, or maybe the guy I was with that night took it with him. Maybe it was in his pockets? Or hidden underneath his bed? Wherever my worth was I needed to get it back.

It took me five years or longer to realize that my worth never left me. Self-worth is not a tangible object like money, or clothes, that can be lost, it is an intangible trait that all humans share. All people have worth, all women have worth. The longer you go without believing that you have value, the longer it will take for you to recognize that you do have self- worth.

The strippers, the prostitutes,the escorts, the promiscuous girls at your job or in your classroom, the porn stars, all have worth.

What helped me understand I already had Worth.

Even after I got closure from the guy who made me feel like I was nothing, even after the only guy who ever saw me in my entirety said that he loved me, I still felt worthless. I even etched the word worthless into my skin, (that topic will be discussed in another post). I opened my Bible one day and I read that this man named Jesus died for me. This Jesus could love even me. That was how I came to understand that I had worth. I won’t force my beliefs down your throat, however way you want to find it,  no matter what you believe or don’t believe, whether you are what some christians define as “pure” or not  WOMAN YOU HAVE WORTH.

My Challenge to You.

You’ve tried men, sex, drugs, the works and you’re still not satisfied. Why not give God a try?

Sex as Currency

 Sex in exchange for anything other than something with monetary value is not an even trade. There are women out there that try to purchase love, or affection with sex. Men know that women will give sex to feel loved, or wanted. And often times, women enjoy the intimacy of sex, the closeness they feel to this man that they want to validate them. He is so kind right before sexBut fifteen minutes of what feels like love does not last, and the kindness quickly goes away.

He gets satisfaction before, during, and after sex, and you don’t. What he is doing to you feels like love, but why do silent tears run down your cheeks as your face is smothered in the pillow? Why suffer through unsatisfactory sex and get nothing in return? You get no love, no money, not even an ice pack to soothe your throbbing insides – you are left with nothing. And you wonder why you feel empty?

I do not condone prostitution, but at least the prostitute, or escort has realistic expectations of what to get from a man when she has casual sex with him. She verbalizes what she wants in exchange for sex, unlike the woman who  gives sex to get a relationship but never expresses  that she wants commitment. Sex is not your cash cow for a steady dependable flow of emotions.

When I was younger I dabbled in prostitution. At the time, I was heartbroken and angry.  I just wanted to feel good, and sex didn’t do that for me anymore. I met a pimp who asked why I was sleeping with my ex boyfriend for free? Why was I giving my body to a man who didn’t appreciate it? He said to me, “You’re worth more than that.” He made sense. Having sex with my ex was not going to make him want me any more than he already did, I was just doing it to be close to him. It didn’t feel good anymore, so I figured that the pimp made  sense. I even started getting naked on camera for money.  I can honestly admit that suffering through a painful penis prison while a large hippo rammed me felt worth it when I saw all those hundred dollar bills stacked on the bed. I was getting something for giving something. I didn’t feel like I gave and gave and got nothing in return, which is often what a lot of women feel like when they have casual sex. Sex can only be used as currency to buy tangible things not to buy a person’s love or affection.

Sex is not the price that you have to pay to buy emotions from a man. Sex will not buy you beauty. It will not give you power. And sex will not make him love you, nor will it make you love yourself. As deep as the vagina is love, beauty, and self-worth are not hidden there, and a man’s penis is not the key that will unlock them.

Thankfully, I stopped selling sex, and I found in Jesus a man who could love me knowing my past, knowing that I was a prostitute, knowing that I got naked over the internet for money, knowing that I had been with more men than I could remember, and guess what? This Jesus loved me and wanted me. For the women out there, who are struggling and feel trapped in the lifestyle of prostitution, there is hope. There is life and love after using sex as currency.

Pussy Power

I don’t mean to pop your bubble but, if you are walking around with your head in the clouds  thinking that you have super pussy powers, you are sadly mistaken. Guess what? All women have vaginas. Sure they may look different, and smell different, but they all have the same function. What makes yours better than anyone else’s?

I have seen women’s faces light up because some man told them that they had the best pussy he has ever had – that  their pussy is so tight. Guess what? Every woman’s vagina is tight. Men know that by lying to you, and telling you that you have pussy power, you will feel good about yourself, and your legs will stay open a little while longer. I don’t know who came up with the term pussy power, but whoever it was, did women a huge disservice. Pussy power does not mean that you are powerful. Stop personalizing it.

When it comes  to casual sex, it’s all about the vagina, not you the person as a whole. Nothing is personal about casual sex. But how can that be? When’s he’s kissing you, touching you, telling you he’s the best he’s ever had, saying you’re his, and your pussy is his, you can’t help but take it personally. Feelings are not always reality.Sex is powerful, not you. Women tend to personalize sex, that is why sexual rejection feels like they are being rejected in their entirety.

All of the power is gone when he starts to make you question your beauty, and self-worth. The power is gone when you are willing to do anything to feel like you are in control, and it is gone when you do things you don’t feel comfortable with to get that affirmation. When a woman uses sex for power she is a puppet being jerked around by the very person she wants to control. What happens when he does not want to have sex with you again? Does that mean you are inadequate? You are not worth keeping? What happens when he doesn’t validate your worth?  How does that make you feel?  What if every man you have sex with never talks to you again? Do you still think that you have pussy power? In the world of casual sex and one night stands, the woman is a powerless replaceable commodity.

Your vagina is not powerful, but you are. A man can get sex from any woman who is willing and able, but there is only one you. You, woman, are a powerful vessel.

The Cycle of Casual Sex and Sexual Rejection

Anytime you have sex with a man, you are sharing  yourself with that man. You cannot erase the memory of his penis from your vagina, and you cannot take back the bodily fluids that you shared with him. With casual sex, no strings attached doesn’t exist. Imagine if you had a one night stand with some random guy and two months later you saw him at your job or in your class, you both share the knowledge that you had sex. Now, having sex with him may not mean anything to him or to you, but the simple fact that you both introduced your private parts to each other is a string enough.

How does one get stuck in the cycle of casual sex and  sexual rejection?

Sexual rejection is usually what sends women flying, panties down into casual sex.  I will use myself as example and maybe some of you can relate.

I was a young teenager when I first started having casual sex. For some reason I had a crush on this fat guy who was ashamed to be seen with me in public. Thank God, I can laugh about it now. Anyways, making a long story short, we had sex and two weeks later he told me not to contact him. Ouch! Not to mention that he was the first guy I had sex with.

I felt as if something was wrong with me sexually. Was I not attractive enough? Was something wrong with my vagina? Were my breasts too small? Physically, something had to be wrong with me. I mean he didn’t know me, we never even kissed, even after we had sex. I had to prove to myself and to him that I was normal, that even though he didn’t want me that other men would.  I thought that if other men had sex with me and wanted me that I would be sticking it to him in some way. And he would be full of regret and would want me.

I started having sex with a lot of different men, and I even found a way to keep them coming back, many wanting a relationship. I thought that would assuage the hurt I felt over my first sexual encounter, but it didn’t.

Because I never wanted to feel the loneliness of rejection, I started sleeping with multiple men at the same time. Here I was, going from man to man,like a girl swinging from monkey bar to monkey bar. I went to school with some, some were my friends’ brothers – they were everywhere. I couldn’t stop sleeping with them even if I wanted too because, I never wanted to feel thrown away, tossed aside, or rejected again. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to deal with rejection after that first time, and even if I did, I had become so emotionally callous that I could not feel a thing. If I was rejected, I always had another man around that I could latch on to.

That first time I was rejected sexually sent me spiraling down into a very unfulfilled world of casual sex. Being so young, I could not understand that there was nothing wrong with me. Having sex with a random guy is a quick fix to a broken heart, or injured self-esteem, but it is just a band aid effect. Sex just numbs the hurt for a little while. By sleeping around you are creating an even bigger problem

Casual sex and sexual rejection go hand in hand. The cycle can be hard to recognize and hard to break.

There is hope, life and love after casual sex and sexual rejection. Sex does not define who you are and what you are worth.

Casual Sex

 Casual sex does not exist.

A foreign penis in your vagina is not casual. Swapping bacteria from a stranger’s mouth is not casual. Seeing someone naked before you know his last name is not casual.

 Sex is the farthest thing from casual. It is far from superficial, even though it might appear that way. The physical aspect is just one part of sex, the obvious part, but there is an emotional side to it as well. It requires sharing a part of yourself with someone else.

A penis is like a needle that pierces through the emotional walls kept deep inside of you. It can be the hand that caresses your soul or it can become your painful prison.  The penis can be the thing that makes you forget about your boring reality, or that dick can take you on a power trip. Be it, what it may, experiencing all these types of emotions because of the insertion of one sharp object is not casual.

Sex is a close, intimate experience –  it’s the closest anyone can ever get to you.  You don’t accidentally fall onto someone’s penis do you?  Someone penetrating your vagina is an action that is done with serious intent; whether the intent be pure physical gratification or out of love for the other person. Sex is always an action done with intent.

Is an activity that can cause so much physical trauma and serious emotional upset really that casual??

More on Casual Sex in my book Casual Sex is for the Shallow.

I don’t think so. But don’t take my word for it, ask the millions of women out there with low self-esteem, no self-worth, depression, STI’s, that have to fit the fifty dollar bill for plan b alone, or the ones that have had twelve sexual partners and have never been on a first date.  There is nothing casual about sex.