| .. | 
|
|||||
The crux of your problem here is the issue of boundaries versus expectations, with a side order of having sufficient patience to do what you know you need to do. As you're more than well aware, we live in a culture where it's no longer unusual for people not to wait until they're married to have sex...sometimes people don't even wait until the second date. For a lot of people, getting into any romantic relationship carries with it the expectation that there's going to be some nookie involved, probably sooner rather than later. You already realize that you've generated some expectations in your new relationship. Talking with a prospective partner about how sexy you find them, trading thoughts on why you find one another so delectably snoggable, is really a form of foreplay. When you admit a sexual attraction to someone verbally, it definitely sets the stage for satisfying it physically. This is the point where a lot of people go directly from "Why, what a pert little tuchas you have" to "Wow, that was great. Want a cigarette?" Thus, this is precisely where you need to learn to draw some boundaries. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, come out with your hands up and your 501's still buttoned. But do not despair, my turtledove. The Fat Broad isn't going to launch into some hoary old rant about learning how to say "no." After four years of celibacy, you're obviously capable of saying no. Your problem now is not a "just say no" sort of problem. Au contraire, little miss chompin'-at-the-bit, it's time for you to learn the fine art of saying yes...just not to everything all at once. It sounds to me like you're pretty certain that you want to be sexual with this new man in your life, but you want to do it on your schedule. Given that you've spent four years celibate to get to a point where you can do this sanely, with a sage eye for your own sense of what's feasible for you, it'd be a shame to rush. Four weeks, four months, or even longer is really quite a reasonable time to take to work your way up to a full, functional, joyous sexuality that leaves you smiling and without regrets. For this to happen with a minimum of friction, you're going to have to be brave and sit your new beau down and have a little talk with him. If you haven't already, explain your situation to him. Letting him know that you're choosing to begin all over again with him, after four years of choosing not to have any sexual contact with anyone at all, is bound to make the guy feel kinda special. You should also tell him why you spent four years celibate. You don't have to go into the gory details of all your past missteps, and in fact, the less you do that, the better. You've been through it enough times in your head and probably in therapy, and besides, he's your new boyfriend, not your father confessor. He basically needs to know what the issues are so that he can understand why you want to take the scenic route rather than the fast lane to the bedroom. This is important. If he doesn't know why you want limits in regard to sex, your boundary-setting will just seem strange and make him wonder what's up. He might legitimately wonder if you've got religious issues that you're afraid to bring up, or if you're trying to use sex as a means of getting him to make a commitment to you, or Heaven knows what else. He's much more likely to be sympathetic and helpful if he understands why he's being asked to take it slow. He's also much more likely to receive your limit-setting well if you approach the process of setting sexual boundaries as a process of saying yes rather than one of saying no. Sexual attraction and arousal are all about possibility and anticipation. Saying yes, no matter how minor the thing you're saying yes to, leaves the door open for you to say yes to something more further down the line -- a simple process of adding to what's already there. It also leaves you the option to stick with what you're doing until such time as you want to say yes to something new. "No," on the other hand, tends to cut off possibility. This doesn't mean you can't use the word -- of course you can, and you should whenever you want to or need to. Your partner, likewise, should be prepared to respect a "no" from you, just as you'd respect one from him. This isn't about the actual limits -- those don't change no matter what vocabulary you use to delineate them. But in terms of setting limits, talking about the things you do get to do and places you do get to go is a lot more encouraging for both of you than getting a laundry list of things you don't get to try, places you don't get to touch, and things you can't even think about for fear of causing offense. Hopefully, your boyfriend will be accepting of your need for limits and will be more than happy to agree to make beautiful music with you at a nice leisurely adagio. However, you still have to remember that these are your limits, not his, and just because he agrees to your boundaries doesn't mean he bears the primary responsibility for maintaining them. He does have responsibilities: to listen, to respect your limits, and not to push you. But when you're together, it's your responsibility for letting him know if you're uncomfortable with a situation that crops up. It's your responsibility to tell him, explicitly if necessary, how you want to be touched and caressed and what you feel comfortable doing with him. It's your responsibility to call a time-out if things get a little wild and wooly (as they often do), and perhaps to do a little coddling and comforting when that happens, because sometimes even small, anticipated rejections can sting and frustrate. You can minimize the frustration and feelings of rejection by handling situations with finesse and thinking "yes" rather than "no." Some of the very same sorts of maneuvers our mothers and grandmothers used back in the pre-Pill days, when they wanted to enjoy being physical and sexual but still avoid getting knocked up, are still quite relevant and useful when you employ them in the service of maintaining the boundaries you want and need for your own comfort and mental health. It's all about style, graciousness, and keeping the arousal flowing. Moving your boyfriend's hand gently back up to your breast when it starts roaming exploratorily toward your waistband is a gentle reminder, for instance. A sultry "God, I love what you were doing to my nipple," is a hell of a lot more conducive to continued happy writhing than sitting bolt upright and shouting "Damn it, I told you not to touch me there!" Similarly, make sure your partner knows when you like what he's doing. A bit of noise, perhaps some opulent purring or a swoony sigh, is just the kind of applause a guy likes to hear. Think of it as tactical positive reinforcement. There will undoubtedly be some rough spots. It's easy to get carried away when you're aroused and enjoying yourself. There may be times when you have to stop everything, regroup, and reinstate some boundaries before you can go back to enjoying yourselves. Don't begrudge yourself mistakes. You can learn a lot from them. Likewise, don't let a mistake make you feel obligated to continue, with the mistaken assumption that if you overstep a boundary once, it's gone for good and you may just as well forget about the rest. Even if you slip up and go from your agreed-upon necking to rolling around naked, you're still entitled to stop and say "I'm really sorry, I let things get out of control. That was really hot, and I want to do that again sometime very soon, but I just don't think I'm ready to handle it tonight." It's hard to backtrack when you're that aroused, and it may take some cooling-off time. Patience, a sense of humor, and a patient, supportive lover are all crucial ingredients. There is always the risk that your partner will become frustrated with the length of time it's taking you to move toward home plate. Fortunately, there's also the possibility that you'll discover, as many people do when they're focusing on non-genital sex, that "not having sex" can be every bit as much fun as making the sign of the two-backed beast. There's a lot to be said for scalding-hot, supercharged, very extended foreplay. I found out just how sensitive my breasts can be when I was dating a man I didn't trust enough to fuck. He was, however, devastatingly handsome, and he was very into me, and I'm enough of an opportunist not to let such a combination go to waste. I wasn't willing to go all the way with him, but we sure did get a lot of mileage out of necking and petting above the waist. As it turned out, the nape of his neck was almost as sensitive as my nipples, and between my nibbling his nape while raking my nails up his back and his tongue and teeth on my nipples, we both got to experience our first "remote control" orgasms. I mention this to point up the fact that while "taking it slow" may well mean that you take your sweet old time before you actually make any genital contact whatsoever, it doesn't mean that you have to postpone joy. A lot of people, and particularly men, have a football-player-like mentality when it comes to sex, in which the big O becomes the end zone and it's one big stampede to get there. This is a pity -- sex is about the erotic energy between lovers, the exchange that takes place, the giving and getting of pleasure, not about seeing how quickly you can get from point A to point B. Sex should be about luxuriating in the timelessness of pleasure with someone whom you like, enjoy, and possibly love. There's much more to sex than the line drive toward orgasm. In our foremothers' sex lives, as I alluded to earlier, the fear of pregnancy, "getting a reputation," or becoming unmarriageable often made it necessary for women to maintain vigilant, serious boundaries over what kinds of sexual activity they engaged in, when, and with whom. While we've gained, culturally, from losing many of the fears that engendered that state of affairs, I'm not so sure that we haven't, as a culture, lost something from the standpoint of sensuality. Sex is more than genitals, and necking particularly is an underrated joy. There's a spot on my neck just below and behind my ear, for instance, that sends rivulets of shivers down my spine whenever someone lets their teeth drag lightly over it. I didn't know I had that spot, or that sensitivity, until I was nearly 30 and dating the untrustworthy but beautiful man I mentioned earlier. No one had happened upon that tender patch before, but he did -- not because he was psychic or particularly gifted, but because I'd put limits on how he could touch me that made it necessary to explore, improvise, and innovate. There were moments with him when I wished I hadn't already decided not to fuck him. But I'm glad I put up those boundaries in that relationship. If I hadn't, I sure as hell wouldn't have spent as many ecstatically delirious evenings, cheeks flushed, nipples hard, and panties soaked with arousal, finding out just how damned erotic it could be "not having sex." "The more restraints one imposes, the more one frees one's self," or so wrote the composer Igor Stravinsky. While it might sound a little like a BDSM credo when taken out of context, I think this has relevance to your situation. By placing limits on what you do sexually, you free yourself, almost require yourself, to explore the tiny crevices and fabulously arcane secret ways of your sexuality that might otherwise go overlooked. Learning to say yes -- and yes again, and again, as it becomes more possible for you to do so -- is a wonderful thing. For you to voluntarily say no for so long in order to learn how to say yes consciously and joyously, rather than acquiescing in possibly unhealthy ways because of some outdated default reaction, is a real triumph of the spirit. Enjoy the ride, and remember the evocative words of Joyce's Molly Bloom, perhaps the most famous "yes-woman" in all literature: "yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will yes." Want to ask the Fat Broad a question? Email her. |
||||||
 |
||||||
12.07.06: Scarlet Letters -- in case it isn't glaringly obvious -- is currently
on an extended hiatus. The web has changed, we've changed, and
we're trying to figure out how we both fit together now, which isn't a process we want to rush. If you're looking for more current SL-related content, you can
have check out upcoming books from editor Heather Corinna and previous co-editor Hanne Blank, check out Heather's current sexuality sites, or explore sites through the femmerotic network. We hope to be back with you soon, as fresh, challenging and
unexpected as ever.
In the meantime, by all means, enjoy our years of past content,
all of which still remain in the public and subscription areas.
| .. | visual art • prose & poetry • nonfiction • artists in residence • archive • home |
