Well I got accepted into U.W.O, and I am starting to feel the pressure. Starting to worry.
Not only that, my last blog was like my own personal slap in the face of realization of my own demons. So I have been a bit down about that. Hence, being nocturnal for over a week. But that is not what I am going to write about today.
I figure since the Solidarity Slut Walk is coming up here in London, Ontario. It takes place this weekend at Victoria Park. The slut walk is basically a march/ protest to end victim blaming and sex shaming for all bodies. So this post will be about a topic that is…well…shamed upon; sex. I know, that’s pretty shocking coming from someone so elusive as myself.
I’m sure my ex is laughing right now, saying; yeah right, elusive. He believes wholeheartedly that I am a slut, or a whore. Well, the only reason he thinks that, and spreads such rumors is because he got denied. A case of blue balls. I do not understand why men do that, not all men. But some men are seriously immature. Just because a women isn’t easy, doesn’t make her a slut. That doesn’t make any freakin sense!
Plus, I wasn’t the one banging someone else a week before our son was born. I’m pretty sure there were other women too. So perhaps the name calling is guilt. Whose the real slut here?
Oh wait, before we had kids. My birthday of 2004, he was all sketching out at a grocery store. I got fed up with his behavior, he was acting like a junkie! He was wrecking my birthday. So hell yeah, I ditched him. If he can’t give me a good birthday, then I will. Which I did. I went home and masturbated. The creep that he is, peeked through my mail slot, only seeing my feet. He’s accused me of cheating since, and I’ve been called names and disrespected since. Yeah, I was fingering myself. It was a lot better than having my day wrecked by a complete sketch bag that believed the C.I.A was after him.
Anyway, my sex life. It’s no wonder I am the way I am. I shoot down a lot of men. The moment they so much as bring up sex I shoot them down. I get turned off. I am more attracted to intelligence, and kindness. I don’t want a man that see’s me as a piece of meat, or treats me like a trophy. I am not an object, I am a person with emotions. I’m sure some men would probably accuse me of being a lesbian, or sexist. I really don’t like being constantly bugged for sex. I think it’s annoying. After awhile, it becomes a chore, and it’s only my partner that is getting off. While I’m like; Whoopideedoo! Ya know? Yeah, my sex drive has kinda died down over the years. Naturally, around my moon time, I admit I get excited. As well as kinda emotionally psycho. P.M.S tends to do that. But that is natural, my body is ovulating, and has an urge to mate. I can take care of that myself for the time being, thank you very much!
Sorry I want a man that doesn’t want me just for sex. I want someone to be able to see past their dick, with their heart, and love my soul for what it is. I also want to be able to be proud of my partner, be able to encourage and root them on. That is kind of hard to do when they are so wrapped up and can’t give up their thief/ criminal life style.
So lets rewind here, I’m sure there is more to why I am the way I am.
Before my ex I was seeing an older man voluntarily. I had gotten out of a different abusive relationship, and was self destructive. Me and this older man would meet at a bar, and go bar hopping. He’d buy the alcohol, but then afterward; sex. I just let him do whatever. I didn’t care. The ex I left was going around calling me a slut anyway.
There was a time at a coffee shop, I couldn’t even walk with a friend and this abuser would walk right behind me putting me down. “Slut.” “You’re a skank.” “Fuckin whore.” He’s the one I just “gave a chance” to. I fell for the “Oh, you’re just being shallow” bullshit. Tip of advice; if your not interested in a guy, do not “give him a chance.” I ended up regretting that, and learning the hard way. That relationship took a lot out of my self-esteem. There’s reasons why I barely talk about that one. For instance; he was a pedophile ( I didn’t find out until after, because when I met him, he lied and said he was a student) , he held a B.B gun to my head…etc. There is a lot of traumatizing events that took place. He even killed the pit-bull that tried to protect me. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I know one day I will have to deal with it. But for now, I just try to erase him from my memory.
Anyway, back to the older man, there even came a point where I was on the street picking up hookers for him. We’d have a threesome. I’m sure that sounds all exciting and whatnot, but it really wasn’t, the girl was high out of her face. She was like a corpse. Another time I tried to pick up a different girl, she was all for it for me, but not for the man. So he dropped her off at a bridge. I remember her looking back at me, she was worried. Begged for me to go with her, but I wouldn’t.
Does that make me a lesbian? No. So what if I’ve made out and fingered some women?! I’ve even randomly kissed girls at a bar and almost got my ass kicked by a woman’s boyfriend.
Maybe I just have a male alter ego when I drink. And maybe I use it as a shield. The guardian protecting the lady within. I did mention in previous posts there is a bit of a duality to me. The reserved, and the “crazy”. Well perhaps the crazy side of me feels safer taking on a male like alter ego. I guess it kinda makes sense. Abusive men. Gotta protect myself somehow. As for my mom, she usually “behaved” when a man was present. Like when my dad would get home from work, hush hush, nothing happened. I don’t know, read more. It might make sense later.
Back on track here. The older man, What changed? For one thing, I met my ex. I thought he would be different. I was getting sick of being called names during sex. Called a bitch, a whore…it made me angry. In a situation where I thought I had no control over, I found out I did. This guy was all about power trips. He loved to feel dominate during sex. So when he asked if I wanted him to cum or not, I said “yes”, knowing he would do the opposite of what I say. Therefore, I realized I was in control . I picked up my clothes, and ditched him. The last time I ever saw him was the time he came to my door and he saw me at my apartment, with my now ex. His last words; “Have a good life.”
This guy had quite the fantasy. It was almost like a “Pretty Woman” fantasy. He wanted to go public. Because everything we use to do was supposedly hush hush, but very public. He pictured me in a blue and white polka dotted dress, dressed as a lady, accompanying him on the golf coarse. So he wanted me to be dressed as his “lady”, but his sex object that he can do what he will, even disrespect, behind closed doors.
Anyway, Stupid me for thinking my ex would treat me better.
But this even goes farther back. My sister hitting puberty, and getting interested in boys. I didn’t have much of that phase. And when I did, I kept it to myself.
My sister and my dad use to get along fine, before my sisters hormones kicked in. The more she got gaga for boys, the more annoyed my dad got.
I love my dad, I just wish he could have treated my sister differently. She was raped by selfish pricks, both times I felt powerless. I remember my dad saying it was her fault. Him and my brothers would be calling her a slut behind her back. Hearing this, made me ashamed of my own sexuality. It kinda put a stigma on sex in my mind. And how I tried to gain acceptance from my mom, my abuser over the years. My sister tried to be accepted by my dad and other men. It truly hurt her, but it also effected me.
So unlike my sister, who dressed feminine and showed her figure. There is nothing wrong with that. I dressed like a boy. I even went to the extremes of a freak. My make up would be somewhat Gothic. In high-school some kids would say I was a “clown with glasses”. The way I saw it; As long as I wasn’t sexually appealing, the better.
I am still somewhat tom-boyish to this day. I would rather wear baggy clothes, then those that are tightly fitted. Even though I get called a slut and whore anyway. Whatever. So perhaps the reason I am so elusive, is because I have been through a lot of shit that has made me ashamed of my own sexuality. There! I said it!
It doesn’t matter if your promiscuous or not, you’re gonna get called a slut. It doesn’t matter if you show your figure or not, you’re gonna get called a slut. That is not fair to women, we deserve better than to be treated like objects. A mans dildo for whenever he pleases. We are much more than that.
Women do it as well. We seem to put each-other down. There’s this stupid annoying competitiveness I always run into within groups of friends over the years. Or jealousy. Look at my mom, she had the nerve to call me a rez whore, a false accusation. Another person I use to call my best-friend at one point, belittled me for wearing tighter clothing for a change, and called me a hooch. Obviously, not a very good friend at all.
But that seems to be a life of a woman, an on-going battle for respect. Even though we do the same thing to each-other. So much insecurities. Rather than putting each-other down, I think we need to give out more compliments and praise. Lift each-other up for a change.
So yeah, yay me for actually being open about sex for a change. For sharing this with you. I do have trust issues. I think you can see why. I am ashamed of my own sexuality. More stuff for me to work on, but at least it’s not bottled up anymore.
The other good news I have is that I have an intake appointment at S.O.A.H.A.C for counseling next week. So as hard as it may be to face some things, I will have support to get me through it. Especially with this on coming transition. I’ve been on financial assistance for a decade or more, so yeah. A change like going to school is huge.
Anyway, I will be attending the Solidarity Slut Walk on Sunday. I believe it sends out a positive message. – Pooks
“Shame should be reserved for the things we choose to do, not the circumstances that life puts on us.” – Ann Patchett