I have a theory. Almost everyone who has sex, has, at some point, had an awkward moment. I’m not saying there’s only one time sex is ever awkward, it’s kinda awkward a lot of times. But there is One Moment that makes most of us blush hardest, the one time you feel like you actually made a complete idiot of yourself.
Most of you know exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe it was your first time and no one involved knew what they were doing, maybe your roommate walked in, maybe you met someone at a frat and didn’t realize until the morning after that the person in your bed was the same person your friend had been gushing about for days. It’s okay. It happens to all of us.
I’m Q, and I want to tell you about my worst hook up ever.
I had just broken up with my significant other the night before and spent the evening with a group of friends, drinking a little, but mostly talking. I was on my way home, congratulating myself on having gotten through the day without any breakdowns or bad decisions, when I saw him. It was one of those moments where you wonder if you are actually in a cheesy movie. I’d hooked up with him a few times in the past, before I started doing the monogamy thing, and it had always been good. He waved at me awkwardly, and, doing the scariest thing I had done yet as a wee froshling trying to get laid at Swat, I walked up to him and asked him if he would like to have sex with me. He looked surprised, but agreed, and we went up to his room. We made out a bunch, and he asked me if I wanted to do more. I nodded excitedly. Almost instantly after he started, he stopped. I was confused and asked him what happened. Apparently, I was crying.
And I’m not talking single silent tear crying. I’m talking weeping a constant stream of tears falling down my face. Almost as soon as I realised this was happening, I straight up curled up in a ball on his bed, bawling loudly for like an hour, while he sort of awkwardly patted my back and offered me tissues. Even as it was happening, I was so confused. I had no idea why I would possibly be doing that. Fortunately, my then-hookup-now-friend was very kind, and soon had me ranting about my breakup and how much my feelings hurt and whether there was more to dating than sex while I ate most of the chocolates his grandmother had sent him (if you’re reading this, I’m SO sorry). It was a very painful, complicated emotional rollercoaster that led to the in retrospect obvious realization that sex with near-strangers was not the thing I needed in that emotional place.
I bring this up not to garner sympathy. I’ve grown from the experience and now mostly laugh at it. I’m trying to make the point that sex is weird, and complicated, and doesn’t always go as planned. It can be really hard to figure out what you actually want and what’s healthy for you at the time. It’s made even harder by a society that’s always telling us we’re having too much of it, or not enough of it, or both at once somehow; or that we’re doing it wrong, or that we want the wrong things, or that we’re doing it with the wrong person or people or number of people; or that we need to look a certain way or have certain experiences to “deserve” it, or that we’re not allowed to talk about it.
So here I am, talking about it.
Sex is different for each of us depending on who we are and what we want, and everything I talk about here may not always be relevant to you, because it’s shaped by my life. So it’s only fair you know a little about me. I identify as trans and non-binary. I’m a survivor. I’m pansexual and poly. I like laughing during sex. I’m a person of colour. I’m kinky — I can be both dominant and submissive. I don’t have any fetishes. I’m a proud intersectional feminist. I really like being blindfolded. I’m in an open relationship. I talk about sex a lot (obviously). I intend to talk about some things that are relevant to just about anyone, like talking about consent, asking for what you want, feeling comfortable with your body, dealing with the times when patriarchy (or specific people within the patriarchy) make you feel shitty about your sexual choices, and figuring out what your kinks are. I also will talk about some things that are not, like having sex as a survivor, or as a non-binary person, dealing with feelings in an open relationship, and how do you know it’s for you?
I think it’ll be a fun ride, you should come along. If you’ve made it this far, you’ve already heard the worst. it’ll only get less awkward from here. Probably.
