When I was 13 years old, I was the only person in my class who was not allowed to take sex ed. Instead of learning what penises and vaginas were for, I spent an hour of each day sorting the internal mail in the office of my middle school. I remember filing one piece of mail and recoiling in horror at the sight of a studded, rubbery thing in one teacher’s mailbox. Holy crap, why does Ms. S have a condom in her mailbox???
A few years later, I discovered the unwrapped “condom” that was carelessly lying atop a stack of papers was, in fact, a rubber page turner. You know the kind teachers wear to easily thumb through papers without licking their fingers? A condom is a similar concept, but much larger, thank goddess, and you can totally lick it if you want. But I don’t have to tell you that because you were probably allowed to take sex ed.
I later found out that my mom didn’t want me to take sex ed because she learned they taught you about masturbation. Luckily, I found some books, lit some candles, and, like Abraham Lincoln, became a self-taught man. This is how my sex life unfolded: as a series of curiosities that became explorations. A series of boundaries that became nonexistent.
I’ve had to reconcile my own desires with the expectations of my parents, the expectations that society has for women, and the expectations that some feminists have for other feminists. How could I reconcile all these opposing forces? The easy answer is that I don’t have to. Do I like men or do I like women? Yes. Do I love casual sex or do I feel guilty about casual sex? Yes. Does it make me simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused when a lover shoves his whole face into my armpit and pants like a wild animal? Yes.
I’m sure in 1994 any “normal” 13-year-old could have taught me the difference between an office tool and a condom. I’m proud to say that the trajectory of my sex life has taken me to places many of my classmates haven’t gone, and that now I could teach them a thing or two about office supplies, condoms, safe sex, multiple partners, sex parties, fisting, and being bound, gagged, and verbally humiliated by someone who respects you.
A friend of mine once told me that I make people comfortably uncomfortable…that I am predictably unpredictable. So, that’s why I’m here —to talk to you about uncomfortable things and destigmatize all sorts of sex.
I’ve still been told not to talk about sex as much as I do because it might give someone the “wrong idea.” I’m going to be talking about sex a lot, not just the act thereof, but the politics of it, the emotions of it, the history of it. And there will be plenty of stories about Lisa sex.
So, if you get the idea that I really like sex, then you’re getting the right idea. You know what? I hope you end up learning something about yourself and your partner(s) too because there are just some things that can’t be taught in a classroom.
Feel free to send your own Confesh sex stories to me at firstname.lastname@example.org. We will publish them anonymously and only with your explicit permission.
Can’t wait to read more!
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