Days Like These

24 Oct

Red light, and I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll is blasting on my radio. Naturally my head is swaying from side to side as I shout out “so put another dime in the jukebox baby“.

I look to my right, suddenly aware that people may be staring. And indeed, a dark haired bristly faced young man is smiling widely at me. I smile back and shrug my shoulders. I decide to keep singing, staring ahead to avoid embarrassment. I’m enjoying myself way too much to care about what he thinks, but after what seems like forever, I glance to the right, just to check if he’s still looking. And there he is, staring ahead, banging his head and moving his lips…

We are two people at a traffic light, not giving a shit and enjoying a good shout out with the radio. I love it.

And why has my mood so dramatically improved? Well, that’s easy. The morning after good sex is always glittery, magically energized and optimistic. I know I said I wasn’t going to sleep with any more exes, but I totally lied. This is the guy I dated for three months over the summer, and I made sure he knew exactly what the deal was. Man, was it a good deal.

For most of my adult life I wasn’t crazy about sex. It’s not that I didn’t like it, it’s just that I didn’t really understand what the big deal was. My favorite part of it was the foreplay and the cuddling afterwards. That was before I learned to completely let go. Not being yourself is exhausting. I could never let my guard down during sex, be myself, worry about my pleasure and what I wanted. It was all about looking hot from the right angle, hiding what I was uncomfortable with, pleasing who I was with. Obviously it was a relief when it was over and I was rewarded for my hard work with affection and praise (which I should have been getting regardless).

I know in this blog I have a tendency to demonize BD a little bit. It isn’t fair. It’s not like he was never affectionate or warm. It’s not that we had horrible sex. But in retrospect, there was a whole side of me he didn’t even know, and it wasn’t his fault. I didn’t know it either. Now that I do, I love it, and I want to share it. That spicy, flirtatious, giggly gal, that feels confident (most of the time) about her body, that feels entitled (most of the time) to pleasure.

With everything that’s happened in the last two years, I have today a greater appreciation of everything in my life. I love my body for functioning and my mind for calculating, and my heart for loving and for aching, as it is meant to. It’s not that the world is suddenly pink and shiny, some things still suck terribly, but I love knowing that there are days like this, where I can drive home from a deliciously steamy night out, and raise the volume on my radio and sing loudly, giving anyone who doesn’t sing along with me the finger.

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