I used to have a sexual liberation coach and hiring her was one of the best decisions of my life. I didn’t know why I was contacting her. Something in me just tugged. I dug her email offer out of my trash bin, embarrassed. Was I really going to do this? But I’m happy. Nothing is wrong. And everything was wrong. I was with the wrong man, and I knew it. More time with him meant less time to find the person I knew was out there for me. I’m a romantic. A jaded cynic, maybe, but a romantic just the same. I know I’m meant to be with someone, and I won’t know until I feel it. That balance between magic, intention and compatibility. What I did know was this wasn’t it. Maybe she could help.
She was my friend. I’d met her a handful of times before. We exchanged pleasantries and even lived in the same area, that is, when I wasn’t traveling. That level of trust was already there.
I didn’t know what to expect when I hired a sexual liberation coach. What does sexual liberation even mean? I wanted to explore open relationships and polyamorous philosophy, and I wanted to start a sex blog and write erotica. Those were the two main goals of my time with her. What came out of it was this blog and delving into flings and sexual exploration. I thought I needed to be sexually open, adventurous and polyamorous to be sexually liberated. When I realized that balancing multiple-fucks wasn’t my cup of tea, and that maybe my tried and true one-at-a-time approach was what I wanted all along, I thought it meant I wasn’t liberated.
When I finally got a smartphone for the first time this year, I downloaded Tinder, just as I had wanted to do. After a few days on Tinder, exchanging a few boring messages with men, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted. Things were getting intimate with a friend I hosted, and my feelings were growing stronger for him. Tinder felt disrespectful and counterproductive to what had just begun. Was I no longer sexually liberated because I didn’t like Tinder? Was I no longer sexually liberated because one-night-stands were never my thing, and not something I wanted to start just to “have it under my belt”, as if it were something I should conquer? Was I no longer sexually liberated because I didn’t want polyamory, or hook-up culture, and wanted simplicity and minimalism, not complications and multi-tasking men? Was I no longer sexually liberated because I didn’t want to have sex with other men after my friend left, even though we weren’t really together, because I knew I still wanted to pursue him? I really wasn’t sure, but I deleted Tinder less than a week into it. It wasn’t for me.
It Starts With a Woman’s Consent
One thing I’ve realized is that sex starts with a woman’s consent. At least, it should. When it comes down to it, it’s the women’s consent, her choice, that drives everything. It’s the women’s consent to get married. She can always say no. It’s the woman’s consent to have sex or withhold from it. When I was in Phoenix, staying at another friend’s who had paid my one-way ticket back home, the sex is currency angle of couchsurfing that I had found myself in was screaming “NO!”. The ticket he bought made me feel even more obligated to “put out” and it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I had already couchsurfed at my ex-fling’s in NY, and put out as the price, but this felt overboard. I couldn’t do it, and I had already developed a UTI at the tail-end of New York, because my body has a way of telling me when men aren’t right for me. We tried to kiss but it was awkward, fumbling in the dark. His lips, meeting mine, kissed me while his tongue slobbered around my mouth and around my cheek like a dog. A turn off.
I’ve fantasized about being a whore, an escort, a stripper, a porn star. I’ve fantasized about a lot of things. The great thing about fantasies is that they remain just that. Fantasies. The reality is, I’d make a terrible whore, and I realized it that day.
Sex for money, sex for an exchange, sex without love or compatibility or attraction feels less sacred. It’s not something I can act on and perform, and it’s not something I’d want to.
That is my choice.
That is my sexual liberation.
Sexual liberation starts with choice.
The choice to be single and have multiple lovers. The choice to be in an open relationship and fuck multiple people. The choice to be polyamorous and form love relationships with multiple people. The choice to be monogamous and love one person. Sexual liberation doesn’t have to look like one narrow thing. It looks like whatever you feel comfortable with, whatever you choose, so long as it is a conscious, intentional choice.
At the core, THAT is liberation.
Once I realized that, felt into it, I relaxed. My choice to sleep on the couch, instead of my friend’s bed in Phoenix, even if it meant an awkward week together where he felt undesirable, was my sexual liberation. My choice to be celibate for two years was still sexual liberation. My choice, now, to be abstinent until I meet my friend I’m pursuing in the next month or two, is sexual liberation.
Last month, I got propositioned to get paid for sex, and receive gifts. Sex toys, sexy lingerie, costumes… The fantasy in me wanted to say yes! But the reality, the strong, sexually liberated woman in me said no. I’m not for the taking.
You can’t really go wrong when you do you.
When you start to do things against what feels right to you, because of some ideal you think you’re not achieving, that’s when you run into problems.
Just do you.
Make every choice conscious and intentional.
That’s your liberation.