What You Really Really Want (21 page)

CHAPTER 6

W
ELCOME TO THE SECOND HALF OF THE BOOK! HOW are you doing so far? Are you taking care of yourself, reaching out to positive supports in your life? Keeping tuned in to yourself through the daily writing, and exploring and affirming your right to pleasure through the weekly body love?

To whatever extent you are, great. And if you're struggling with any of it, that's okay, too. Don't use this process to beat yourself up, please.
Do
use it to challenge yourself, to explore uncomfortable or even painful places in the interest of getting to what you really really want. If your internal critics get too loud, go back and reread the commitment you made to yourself at the beginning of this process. Remind yourself of what's important here. But don't make yourself feel bad. Because there are plenty of people and forces in the world who are too happy to do that work. Don't help them.

Which brings me to the theme of this chapter. Whether in terms of the kind of sex we want to have, our sexual orientation, our “unconventional” body, a special ability or disability,
a mental health issue, or anything else that violates people's expectations of how a woman should look or behave, many of us feel like freaks and geeks in one way or another. I assure you, if you do, too, you are far from alone.

Oppression and discrimination are real and are reinforced every day by the most powerful institutions in our culture: the mass media, organized religion, medicine, governmental agencies, the legal system, and more. If you've internalized the belief that there's something “wrong” with or “undesirable” about you, it's probably because the world you live in sends you that message on a daily basis. That can make the freaky feelings painful and hard to overcome, but it doesn't make them true. And there are things you can do to turn the volume down on them.

Starting in chapter 7, you'll be focusing your attention on how to interact with others, how to ask them for what you want and tell them what you don't want. How to build the partnered sex life you want. How to talk with friends and family about their role in supporting your healthy sexuality. And how to be a good partner, as well as friend and family member, to others. Probably, these are things you're eager to delve into.

But healthy sexuality has to start with you. If you don't believe in your own right to pleasure, your own desirability, and your own ability to give yourself pleasure, all of your interactions with others will be on their terms. Believe it or not, this chapter—the one about feeling too weird to be worthy—is your deep breath. A chance to get grounded and centered in your own sexuality before you invite anyone near it. And you may be guessing some of what that means: masturbation.

Stop for a second and check in with your body. How does that word make you feel? Excited, anxious, self-conscious, ashamed, aroused, repulsed? Masturbation can stir up some strong feelings, as Bobbie knows all too well:

It's amazing how loaded the subject of masturbation can be, especially considering that it's probably the least controversial sex act imaginable: It carries zero risk of disease or pregnancy or coercion, and a low risk of injury unless you're doing something fancy. Since it doesn't involve another person, you don't have to worry about communication issues or whether or not your partner will respect you in the morning. And talk
about enthusiastic consent! It's not like you're going to do it to please anyone besides yourself.

Maybe you've been masturbating since you were a child, and you've never
not
loved it. That's awesome.

But still, masturbation is like the third rail of sex talk, especially when it comes to the subject of Girls Who Do It. Is there any clearer evidence that we still live in a culture that's profoundly confused about female sexuality when it's easier to talk about porn than about self-pleasure? Amazingly, the idea that we women not only have our own real desires, but can also satisfy them ourselves, still can seem shocking and disturbing to mainstream society.

Which is precisely my point: Masturbation is a powerful experience and one of the most central ways to explore what you really really want. So let's bust some myths about it and send the Terrible Trio packing.

 

Reality Check:
Look, I'm not going to tell you what rules to set up in your own relationship. But I wouldn't ever want to be in one where self-love was considered competition for partnered sex. First of all, in every relationship, libidos ebb and flow—your partner isn't going to be able to meet your every need at every moment. And if you've agreed not to seek sexual satisfaction with other people, why shouldn't you at least be able to scratch your itches yourself?

But honestly, my defense of jilling off, even when in a relationship, goes deeper than that. This is about you and your
right to have whatever relationship with your body you want to—regardless of whether or not you're in a relationship that involves somebody else's body. Masturbation during a monogamous relationship is perfectly healthy and quite common, and it can go far in improving your sex life. Being practiced in what makes your body feel good, you'll know how to direct your partner during sex together. If you need help in figuring out how to have a frank and open discussion about sexuality with a partner, no worries—we'll get to that in chapter 7.

 

Reality Check:
Historically, masturbation has been viewed as a coming-of-age milestone for boys, but not for girls. Quite the reverse, actually—in Victorian England, a woman who orgasmed was considered a sexual deviant. Thankfully, we've come a long way since then. A 2008 study out of the United Kingdom found that 92 percent of the eighteen- to thirty-year-old women surveyed masturbate, and over 65 percent do it two or three times a week. So when I say you're not alone? You really aren't.

Facts aside, there's nothing that will convince you quite like trying it. So let's talk about how to do it.

Let me start by telling you a little story to settle your nerves. I had a boyfriend in high school who loved me very much, and whom I loved back just as much. We lusted after each other constantly and fooled around whenever we could. And, as luck would have it, he was nearly as invested in my pleasure as he was in his own. (This is a great quality in a partner—don't leave home without it.)

Why am I telling you this? Because I never had an orgasm with him. I faked it constantly, because I knew it was important to him that I had them. But I didn't know how, and I was too embarrassed to say so. Besides, I was having a great time in bed with him, and I didn't know what I was missing, so I didn't miss it. So I lied. Over and over and over again.

We broke up when he went off to college, and then I went to college, too. I fooled around with a number of guys, but still—no orgasm. I'd given up trying, really, thinking it was maybe just something my particular body didn't do. Then, in the spring of my junior year, I mentioned to a (platonic) girlfriend that I'd never reached the big O. And she was like, well, have you tried to give yourself one?

The thing about me and masturbation up until that point was this: I'd kinda done it, but I kinda hadn't. I remember from a young age that it felt good to touch myself “down there.” Sometimes, as a kid, I'd linger my fingers there when I wiped myself in the bathroom. I could lose myself in those lovely rubbing sensations long enough that my mother would wonder what was taking me so long. As I grew up, the rubbing moved to the bedroom, but if you'd asked me if I masturbated, I would have said no. It was more of an idle pastime, something I would indulge in when my hand would first brush my labia for more innocent reasons, like putting on underwear or climbing into bed. If that brush felt good and I had time, I'd rub a little while. But I never once thought to myself:
Now I am going to give myself sexual pleasure.
Not because I thought there was anything wrong with doing that, it just literally never occurred to me. No one ever spoke to me about it—as far as I knew, I knew
no females who did it. Not until that spring of my junior year, when my friend insisted it was the best thing ever.

That night, I did as she'd suggested. I closed the door to my bedroom, grabbed some oil, and got comfortable. And then I rubbed in a new way, with intention. I explored what types of touch in what places made sensation more or less intense, what rhythms made that intensity build or slowed it. I took my time. I let my mind wander. And then I let it clear as I focused all of my attention on the pleasure expanding from my clitoris. I relaxed into the tension until it felt deliciously unbearable. And then, to my life-changing astonishment, I allowed that swelling pressure to break open and explode and convulse and radiate up through my body until I had gooseflesh and the tip of my nose was tingling.

After that, I never once faked an orgasm ever again. Not only is lying toxic to a relationship, but I don't want to cheat myself out of that experience, or give a lover misleading information about what gets me off. More important, since then, I've always made the time to masturbate, because it's free and it's good for me and it makes me feel great. There aren't enough things in the world you can say all three things about, so I try not to deny myself the ones that I find. This week, I'm going to ask that you don't, either.

If you're already a practiced masturbator, use this week to explore new approaches, the way Buffy did:

Sometimes masturbation can bring up uncomfortable feelings or bad memories. Maybe you've internalized the message that it's wrong, and can't shake that feeling. Maybe you've been
shamed for being sexual, and this reminds you of that feeling. Maybe you've been sexually violated in some way, and this brings back those feelings. Maybe you don't even know why. There's nothing wrong with you if that happens. Sexual pleasure can feel really loaded, depending on our histories, and a lot of that history is lodged in our bodies. You may feel fine just thinking about sexual pleasure, but experiencing it can be a whole different ball of wax, for reasons you may not even understand at first.

These sudden negative responses are often called “triggers,” because they can come on suddenly and without much provocation and trigger an overwhelming bad feeling. Here's what author Staci Haines has to say about them in her book,
Healing Sex: