Adolescent Sexuality- Accepting my own authenticity
I was always pretty gay. Girls are pretty. Boys are pretty. People are pretty and I really like them.
Ever feel like you’re always the scapegoat? You probably are.
I remember looking at Brooke Shields as a kid and wishing I could both be her and have her. Blue Lagoon was released the year I was born, and I was about ten when I found it on the tv. We didn’t have all the fancy channels and I was very surprised that it was on my TV.
I related to it, and it normalized a lot of my urges and drives. I was aware of feeling sexually attracted to other people at a very young age. Once you’ve felt sexual excitement, arousal, and pleasure, it’s very difficult to just forget what that feels like.
I was also addicted to the feeling of being wanted, desired, thought about. I loved the tension of seduction and anticipation. It was one of the few things I felt like I was actually good at. None of this depended on the gender or sexual construction of the other person.
Men were fun because they were so eager, so I would dish the pleasure out a little at a time. My lady peers were fun because they embodied curiosity, and seduction involved freeing them from the chains that bound their behaviors. It was like giving them the gift of themselves in the exploration.
I didn’t have a lot of sleepovers, but when I did they tended to turn naughty.
The system is built to silence us.
Once I was ditching school on a regular basis in high school, I was regularly doing so to have engage in sexual acts. I had tried to make friends in so many other ways. This was the most interesting thing about me.
We played a lot of dare games. We found hiding places in the nearby landscape.
I wasn’t datable, but I was f^@%able.
I didn’t lose my “virginity” until I was 15, and I did so because the pressure from my brother to do more had increased once I became a teenager. He had joined the Navy but would still come home on leave. My time to say “no,” to him was winding down.
So, I secured a willing participant, and an adequate place. I tried to make it not suck, but it was awful. I was unprepared for his girth, and it hurt like hell. I maintained my composure and went back to life like nothing happened.
I had sexual encounters with most of my friends by the time I left high school.
It didn’t stop me from feeling lonely, and it’s not the same as feeling like you belong. It was the best I had at the time, and without this human contact, I don’t think I’d have made it far enough through life to get to the part where I love myself.
May this post be a toast to the sluts like me.
Sex I Can’t Have by Protyus A. Gendher
There’s all this sex that I can’t have
I mean, think about it, we’re all grown up
We can have all the nasty, kinky, dirty sex we want
And there’s just all this sex that we can’t have
Why is there all this distance between the things we want to be doing, and the things we get to do?
Not to mention the controversy over whom we do them to
You’d think your chance would be improved when you’re not picky like me
Cuz male and female and in-between
No variation really, that I don’t want to see
No individual model I couldn’t figure out
Given the chance, I’d leave no doubt
But there’s still just all this sex that I can’t have
There are all these rules and hoops and it’s sad
Because I think we’d all be better served
If we had the orgasms we really deserve
Think of how the pharmacies could collapse
If we were all cumming and leaving their grasp
Gasping without hesitation
At the mechanism for regulation
Of serotonin and dopamine
And all the body’s finer things
That feel so good
But there’s always all this sex that I can’t have
Destroyed by authority, when a lover power-grabs
Because in that moment when I’m having fun
You know… right before he… well you know the one
Instead of congratulating a job well done
A yank of the hair and a smack of the bum
Make me just his bitch, and apparently one who’s dumb
No longer a matter of skill in a moment
To bring about ecstatic foment
But my right to self, taken away
By some dumbass destroying the play
But worse when bringing a woman to bed
And she just hands it over to you instead
Like, “here let me show you all of the ways
That I can make myself less today
And I’ll call it sexy, and think it turns you on”
And I’m just thinking “where the hell do these people come from?”
And so, the fear of these moments in bed
Leave me with a sense of dread
That stops even the initiation
Of a light-hearted conversation
That could lead to a physical destination
Free from inhibition and reservation
But rather I shy away, not knowing what I could say
That would lead to blissful pleasure
Beyond the confinements of measure
And yet I stop, what could I say
To affect the outcome anyway
Approaching a man, I’m much too forward
So alternatively, I become a coward
The moment of meeting, that would empower me
Sends a different message to him see
I’m already less because I’m “easy”
The thought of which really makes me queasy
Because the result is now, I’m bad
And there’s all this sex that I can’t have
Just talking to a girl is already accusation
Which could lead to confrontation
Because I assumed that she could be
Willing to have some fun with me
Willing to explore and play and be
Even if she did say yes
To becoming my playtime guest
My asking alone is an act of persuasion
Never underestimating the level of coercion
Always gauging their possible regret
For letting you make them slippery when wet
The second-guessing and burden to carry
Remove the fun and make me wary
Because others won’t just bring themselves
Instead all these behaviors delve
Into people being unmade
Making sex the blade
That takes ourselves away
So, there’s just all this sex that I can’t have
And I can’t be the only maverick
Who thinks that they have skills to share
With others safely who would dare
But rather I’m a celibate cad
Because there’s still all this sex that I can’t have
Operation **Reclaim** Loveland 
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