The Morning After

The morning after sex (for the first time) with a man I’ve been chilling with for a few months, we’re fondling and making small talk. It’s 7amish on a Thursday morning and so I reckon it’s about time for him to leave; I’ve got shit to do. I flirt with the idea of a perfunctory “this was nice” blowjob but ultimately decide to go with an unceremonious, “I think you should get going.” He chuckles and asks if this is something I’d like to do again. It was a great performance, we have great chemistry so I think to myself and share with him, “Sure, if we can make our schedules work.” Another chuckle, or something that feels like its veering into awkward giggle territory, so I offer “that work?” instead. He says yes. I roll out of bed and start going about my day. Next thing, I realise, I’ve been pulled back into bed and there’s a 6”3, 100kg man on top of me. What gives?

“So…can I ask a question?”

“Sure, but do I have to answer it underneath you?” There goes that damn chuckle again. He rolls off me and then says rather grimly, “I guess I’m just wondering if you were ever…I don’t know…sexually abused”.

I haven’t been more floored by a question since my biochemistry exam in 2013. He can tell. He proceeds to explain that I just don’t seem to be offering him much emotionally, and it seems weird, given that we’ve been ‘talking’ and hanging out for a bit, we just had what we can both agree was great sex and I’m kicking him out at 7am. I think to myself, I really should have gone with that blowjob. So…you know, lesson learned, I decide to go down on him and hope this absurd question fades from memory. But nope, uncle pulls me back up and by my hair no doubt (which to be honest, turns me on a little, but in the moment, mostly irritates me).

“It’s such an odd question,” I volunteer. “Do I seem damaged or emotionally stunted in some way?”

“It’s just in my experience, the only women that are so…I don’t know….”

“…sexually liberated?”

“well…uninterested in connection, more like”

“must have been sexually abused?” It’s now my turn to chuckle. Thankfully, in the intervening silence between my chuckle and my attempt to respond critically, the universe intervenes.

“Actually, I suppose that was a strange question….maybe you’re just not that interested.”

Yathink?!

 

Smile

Living in the shadow.
Can you imagine what kind of life it is to live?
In the shadows people see you as happy and free.
Because that’s what you want them to see.
Living two lives, happy, but not free.
You live in the shadows for fear of someone hurting your family or the person you love.
The world is changing and they say it’s time to be free.
But you live with the fear of just being me.
Living in the shadow feels like the safe place to be.
No harm for them, no harm for me.
But life is short, and it’s time to be free.
Love who you love, because life isn’t guaranteed.
Smile!

– Gloria Carter