A thought hit me sometime last year when my ex whipped out a sex toy in the early hours of the morning and wrapped it around his manhood. “Wow, I can’t believe you are willing to do this sober,” he said, surprised that I would forgo any liquid bravery.
Which was a funny thought, because for as long as we had been dating, he had never really seen me drunk. Sure, we would have a drink or two at dinner. But when it came to being with him, sex and alcohol just weren't something my brain had put together. I didn't need to be drunk to do this with him.
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That wasn’t always the case with the previous penises in the lineup. Jamo, Cuervo, Three Olives Cherry, and Highlife (when I was feeling a bit slummy) were all acceptable companions to my sexual activities. And I never thought twice about that either, because as studies have shown, women experience heightened arousal after drinking alcohol. So why didn’t I need to get a good buzz on before having sex anymore? I’m thinking that at some point in time:
I traded shot glasses for real confidence
I’m no longer a rookie on the field — I know my
way around a bedroom and a penis. There. I said it. And somewhere along the
line, I think I’ve just aged out of pretending like I didn’t know what the hell
I was doing. I know what I’m good at. And I know how to listen to my partner
and be better. You don’t really need much else.
I accepted my body as is, because it’s the home of my spirit
I’m terrible with shaving around my knees. I’m
curvy, so my stomach will move when I’m riding on top. And my ass is going to
spread across the better width of a guy’s hips and totally slap down on him
when I’m in reverse cowgirl. And while booze can temporarily make any body look
good and porn perfect, the feeling of wondering if someone would be attracted
to my body, if we were sober, just wears thin after a while.
Ain’t nobody got time for that anymore. My body is the home of my spirit, and it’s one of the best you will find on this planet. (There. I said that, too!) And I’m no longer interested in subjecting my spirit to drunk moments where inauthentic sex could damage her. I enjoy looking my partner in the eyes and knowing that he truly loves being intimate with me. That’s the kind of stuff that really gets me off — both in the bed and in real life.
I started to like being brave more than I liked being scared
This is congruent with where I am in life, period. I’m very tired of biting my tongue. I don’t like the idea of getting drunk first and then doing something I was too afraid to do sober. Instead, I prefer to remove the middle man and think of myself as a badass bitch who’s not afraid to ask for what she wants in this life.
It’s just a better high for me to soberly and consciously ask and expect my partner to satisfy my needs. As well as openly meeting his sexual needs and consciously pushing any of my insecure fears aside. It’s a sort of bravery that brings a rush more potent than any shot of 151, and kind of hard to stop practicing once you get started.
I wanted to feel (and remember) everything
me greedy, but I love that feeling of “ghost dick” — when you can kind of still
feel him inside of you when you are on your way to work the next day. Or
recalling the feeling of his stubble sweeping across my right cheek. His hand
finally slipping into mine and pulling me into the bedroom. Even just locking
eyes with him before stepping onto the subway and realizing that he
really wants to kiss me.
When I'm drunk, I see patches of history. I have a vague memory of something he said, and maybe something he meant, but am not totally sure what really happened. I might miss the subtle notions of flirtation and romance, and simply rush to the orgasmic finish line. Sober me, however, can make a new line of Harlequin romance novels so hot, my mother might move in to my apartment just to throw holy water on me daily. Sober me also has a memory that makes her feel good about her accomplishments. She has a healthier self-esteem about how she attracts the men in her life and can hold them captivated by her spirit and her love. Feeling everything goes far beyond his hands, his dick, or his presence — it ultimately includes feeling respect and love for yourself. And I’ve spent too many years without that feeling to go back to anything less.
What do you think? Am I the only person you know who’s used booze to fill the gaps in her confidence with sexual experience? Or have you definitely hit the bottle to get a little liquid courage yourself? Let’s chat it out! Let me know what you think in the comments below.