The only reason
we didn’t fuck right there was
I consistently get the feedback that I’m sexy, and it’s not because of my physical appearance. Yes, I have an acceptably attractive body and face, but I’m not that objectively hot. I believe that those who tell me I’m sexy aren’t responding to how I look, even if they consciously believe that’s why. They’re responding to how I feel. How I feel about myself, how I feel about my own sexuality, how I feel about sex in general, and how I feel about the sexuality inherent in others.
I think about my sex and sexuality. I place importance upon it. When I feel like touching myself, I do, and I don’t shame myself for it. I’m comfortable watching pornography. I wear short skirts and high heels and I like how the breeze feels under there. When I’m having sex, I react. I allow myself to feel. I’m present, not thinking. I don’t worry about what I look like in this position, or whether my hair is going to get messed up, or what he’ll think if I move in a certain way to get myself off (hint: he’ll think it’s awesome).
But it’s not indulging. It’s keeping yourself sexually healthy, vibrant and alive. Your sexuality is a source of power, and it is a source of energy. You take vitamins, you exercise, and you brush your teeth. Physiologically, sex is healthy – whether it’s with someone or whether you’re flying solo. And the more fun you have in your life, the more sensual you allow yourself to be, the more fun you are to be around, and the more attractive you become. Naturally.
So this week, when you walk past a poster of a hot guy and have a split-second image of what it would be like if he pressed you up against your dryer in your laundry room, go with it! Don’t shut down the thought; don’t assume that it’s less important than work. Your sexuality feeds you, and it deserves equally as much attention as other aspects of your life. Think of it as taking your sexuality vitamins.
And I’m telling you, once you put attention on it, you will see a difference both in how you feel and in how others react to you. Because as you walk down the street fantastizing about that poster boy, I guarantee that at some point you’ll have a smile on your face, and it will be a naughty one, and people will notice. And you know what they’ll think as you pass them by?
By the way, God, what the FUCK is with making women ACTUALLY bloated and have ACTUAL acne at the SAME TIME that they can’t exile the “You’re fat and ugly” loop that plays on repeat every time they look in mirrors at this time of the month, such that when you THINK you’re fattest and ugliest, you actually get impermanent but seemingly fucking permanent PHYSICAL CONFIRMATION of that fact? How is that fair??
… and on and on. On repeat. For at least 3 days. Did I mention this is an event that occurs MONTHLY?
I like seeing the look of admiration on your face when I walk by and I’m looking good and you know I’m looking good. I don’t mind that you’re checking out my ass, cause I’m in my 20s now, and I’m not gonna be forever. I know some women get uptight about receiving compliments on the street, who feel it’s demeaning to get looked at in this way, but to me it’s a compliment. It makes me smile, and sometimes makes me laugh.
Interestingly, I find that this rarely happens with white men. Caucasian males appear to feel a lot of shame and guilt about checking out women. Personally, I believe this is because white American culture is derived from the Puritans. White Americans are extremely sexually repressed, but in denial about it. In white culture it’s unacceptable, disrespectful, or men are afraid that giving a genuinely sexually appreciative look or comment will freak a woman out. And that’s a shame, because when the checking-out – whether a whistle, a smile, or a comment – is genuine (i.e. not a creepy, I’m-going-to-get-you kind of thing), it’s encouraging. I’m thinking in particular of the guy the other day who got off the subway with me and very authentically said, “That’s a great outfit.” He wasn’t doing it to get attention or prove his masculinity – he clearly just meant it, and it was flattering.
I also particularly like that feeling of sharing something. For example, I’m multi-lingual, and one of the languages I speak very comfortably is Spanish. I was on the subway platform recently and this Latino guy was talking to another about me, and he even addressed me (in Spanish) to say, “You are the most beautiful woman, I want to marry you!” then said something else funny, at which point I laughed. When he realized I understood him his eyes widened and he turned to his friend, all freaked out, and in Spanish said, “She knows Spanish!!” It was amusing. Anyway, I doubt I had a lot in common with this guy but we did share this moment, and when I got on the train I stepped to the window and put my hand up to it, and he smiled this huge smile and blew me a kiss and waved. It was touching. We connected on a human level.
So what do you think? Is whistling an obnoxious form of misogynistic despicability or a sign of admiration and approval? Yes, those are the only two choices.