I ooze sex.
I have written about it before and my acceptance of it. (Here)
I’ve also come to accept that it’s not of my own doing because it seeps out of me even when I’m depressed and don’t want that kind of attention.
It’s just a part of who I am.
It’s not like I go around talking dirty, dressing sleazy, or hitting on people.
It’s my eyes, my face, my lips. My body. It’s the way my voice sounds, the way I carry myself, the way I think, the teasing way I naturally flirt, the ease in which I understand innuendo and keep up with banter, the way I dress just slightly provocatively because I truly enjoy the style; it’s those things where it somehow comes out.
Therefore I tend to be a very sensual and sexual person, but I am so much more than just that and it in no way means I am easy or that I’m going to share that part of myself with just anybody.
I’ve made my mistakes. I’ve learned from them. I will not make them anymore. I mean that.
I want romance. I want someone to sweep me off my feet with tender nothings. I want someone who looks at me and tells them-self, “my God, she’s beautiful” but really falls in love with the way I think and the way I am. I want someone who wants to know more and more and more, who pays attention and remembers things that I say and finds them important.
Someone who loves my face, not just my body. Someone who wants to hear my voice because it soothes him, not just because it turns him on. Someone who loves my laugh more than anything. Someone who uses sex as an expression of how he feels about me and not just as a way to get off.
That’s the man I will fall head over heels for.
That’s the kind of man I did fall head over heels for.
The man who still haunts my heart.
That man will get all of me. Every bit. All of my affection and attention. And every ounce of my sexual appetite, which is absolutely insatiable when I’m in love. (My ex and Mr Nerd can verify this. So can Mr K, who I only “really liked” (but then he turned out to be a selfish asshole.) Also probably why he would still fantasize about me even though it was just one day…)
Because to me, sex is the ultimate way of expressing the way you feel about someone. And yes, I know I’ve had sex with men that I just “liked a lot” and that’s because I am very sexually expressive. That’s something I’ve only just discovered about myself.
But from now on, I will be sure about someone before I go that far with them. The same goes for phone sex. Or sexting. I’m not even going to touch it until I feel certain about the relationship and how the person feels about me and I for them.
So please, don’t think that just because I’m comfortable in my sexuality that I’m okay with being objectified.
Sometimes I even try to “dumb down” the sensual energy I exude in an effort to be taken seriously, but it feels suffocating and like I’m having to make that part of me small. Like its something shameful I have to hide away because it gives off the wrong idea about the type of woman I am. And even then, it gets picked up on. So then I have to deny it exists in order to keep the boundary from being pushed.
Well, fuck that!
I’m tired of catering to anyone and their assumptions.
I’m a sensual, insatiable wolf and I’m owning it.
I’m presently feeling good enough about myself to feel like I can put stricter boundaries on anyone trying to exploit that part of me for their own selfish benefit.
And I’m also feeling good enough about myself to not fall into the trap of sharing it with just anyone anymore.
So this is a huge fuck off to the men who want to take my natural essence and twist it to meet their own needs.
Go fuck yourself.
Because you aren’t getting a thing.
I’m different than who you assume I am.
And more determined to protect myself and all I have to offer.
I don’t need any man to lust after me to feel good.
I’m feeling good all on my own.
This is a good feeling. I want to keep it. So I’m going to work my ass off to do so.
This is Samantha out of depression and the dating fog.
I really like her.
I hope you do too.