I get three separate reactions whenever I admit my aversion to talking about my sex life. The first is that my “shyness” or embarrassment is cute, and I get that “Aww, sweetie!” coddling.
Second, which is a rarity, but has happened; I get the “Girl, me too. People don’t need to know about my business!”
Third, which rivals them all, I become the amusing science project of certified weird. Instead of sympathizing or understanding my great resistance, those disappointed with my admission get sassy with me and shriek, “Why not!” or “Do you even have sex?!”
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To the first and third responses, I bat an eyelash or two and just smile because I know I’ve had sex. And great sex. Fun sex. Boyfriends still thrusting while I’m halfway off the bed sex (amongst other flashbacks of a damn good time). But I do find it funny that just because I’m not open to talking about my sexuality or sex life with whomever and whenever, that I’m some kind of prude, a Pollyanna. It’s sometimes implied that I need to lighten up, or worse, have low self-esteem. That’s not fair!
You know that song “Touch” by Amerie? “Don’t be afraid to touch. I know you think I’m a good girl…” I am that girl. And maybe that song “Dirty Talk” by Wynter Gordon? “I am no angel. I like it when you do that stuff to me…” I’m that girl too. I know I haven’t had as many partners as say the average 20-something or within my circle of friends, but when I look back at past exes and that one fling that utterly satiated my naughtiest wishes, I’m comfortable with my sexual history thus far. And my chosen lovers always seemed relieved and excited that I enjoyed sex, even though I was also a good girl. For them, it was like, they do exist. Good girls that like dick. Yes. Yes we do.
So then why is it that girls like me are so reserved on talking about riding it, licking it, taking it? UGH! Because we don’t want to! I don’t know! It’s an inexplicable, visceral reaction to just not expose myself like that. Personally, I don’t believe it’s everybody’s business what positions I like, what I say and look like mid-coital. I know we all smash, so what’s the big deal? I feel like those “offended” by my lack of open sex talk make it a bigger issue than I do. Only my true friends know about my sex life and still, it takes some coercion. I remember the one time I (finally) disclosed to a friend that my last boyfriend ate the booty, he nearly cart-wheeled down 11th Avenue hollering, “Yasssss! I knew it!”
I definitely do see the appeal of sharing stories. It’s fun. I’ve had laughs about having sex in the summertime when it was so hot it felt like your partner was dropping puddles onto your body. But do I have to share tales like this the time? Maybe I’ll keep the Pollyanna label. I’m just a secretive person and I’m not against those that do openly talk about sex. If you haven’t caught on, I have friends that do. I also appreciate hilarious sex romp comedies, or realistically steamy sex scenes (hey Baby Boy) and one of my favorite shows of all-time is without a doubt Sex and The City. I guess you can say I’m the Charlotte in the bunch. So I’m not anti-sex, I just don’t want to divulge as much as the next person.
If you’re trying to get a shy or good girl to talking about sex…good luck! I will advise however, don’t make her feel obligated to share any details with you. We’ll leave you even more confused about us than you possibly felt before and we really get a kick out of that. Just take it easy if you start to immediately notice our eyes bugging out and we look like a child that’s just seen spinach on their plate.
Childish or not, don’t overlook your judgment and you’ll get to know that a good girl can have just as much fun as the bad bitches of the world. We just don’t like to brag about it.
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