. . . Have you ever wondered what motivates you to have sex?
Has the answer ever scared you?
As far as dilemmas go, being an overly AND overtly AND over-the-top sexually charged woman in her 40’s doesn’t appear to be all that noteworthy. I can hear the voices now:
Who gives a shit if your “number” resembles infinity?
Oh, so having myriad sexual partners is a problem now?
Sure as hell hope you’re not going to ask for any sympathy . . . .
And, while those perspectives are legitimate, they do not address the other very legitimate reasons many people choose to write about their sex lives on the Internet. On some level it’s about showing off—why else do you think Facebook is so popular?—but it’s also a place to grapple with some very real questions about human sexuality in a very personal way.
The thing that’s getting me all tied up in knots lately is my motivation behind some of my sexual behaviors. Why is it, for example, I’m putting a lot of time and emotional energy into arranging a three-way with Bad Boy Abercrombie and his Smoking Hot Roommate when what I claim I really want is a boyfriend? What do I hope to gain from scrolling through and responding to many Craigslist “casual encounter” ads night in and night out? Why is it so easy to turn on the sexual charm, but I can barely keep an age-appropriate man’s attention over cocktails if I’m not trying to sleep with him? Why did I wake up in a stranger’s hotel room this morning?
Am I becoming addicted to sex?
My friends call it “being in a stage.” They ask questions about where I am in my sexual spectrum and when I’m going to go back to just being normal. Of course, they acknowledge that women of a certain age are in their sexual prime, but being in your prime AND acting out your fantasies are two entirely different scenarios. They’ve jokingly hinted at having an intervention—and just like any joke like that, on some level they sure as hell mean it. And because I know they would worry, I keep my big mouth shut. Just as we all shelter our parents from our world in our teens, I highly monitor what I tell even my closest friends.
I wouldn’t be surprised if this push for a lot of sex a lot of the time with a lot of men has something to do with being in a midlife crisis. As I’ve been known to say from time to time when I’m pretty buzzed and feeling sorry for myself: “I used to be pretty damn pretty.” I know, you really hate me now, but this fear of losing one’s looks and being alone is scary as hell. Oh sure, you have so much to offer—your looks are only a small piece of it. I agree that is true for many, many women, but we still have to get our toe in the door. Besides, the real rub is getting used to not receiving much attention anymore. Going from being able to command a room with your presence to being nearly invisible takes some getting used to. Being a sexually charged beacon turns that light switch of adoration from men right back on.
With a wink and a knowing grin, I refer to my casual dalliances as proclivities. They have become a part of who I am even though I’m second guessing how sane OR healthy OR reasonable enjoying many lovers actually can be for me. If I give it up, then I won’t have the crazy nights filled with passion and lust. If I keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll probably run into a dangerous sort reminiscent of Diane Keaton’s Mr. Goodbar. If I tone it down . . . .
And that’s where the word “addiction” seeps in and takes hold. I don’t know a single alcoholic who wouldn’t prefer moderation over completely denying him or herself of alcohol forever. They just can’t only have one. If I do have a problem with sex, and I really need help, then just having 4-5 regular lovers with a stray thrown in once a month for good measure would not be something I could actually do. Rather, I would probably have to remain celibate as I worked through these pretty apparent issues with a therapist without health insurance and be miserable in the process.
And, just like when I go without drinking for a month or two, I go back to it not because I want a drink necessarily, but because I’m bored to tears. My crazy, mixed-up full-of-sex life is a shitload of fun.
If I’m not fucking, what the hell would I do with my time?
It’s true, it seems like most people succumb to habits just because there’s nothing else to do…
I’m definitely busy . . . . I have three jobs basically and I try to write, but when I get the impulse, this whole gotta have sex things turns compulsive.
Considered that the problem might not be with the fucking, but rather with the fact that you can’t really accept the fact that you just really LIKE fucking? Because your whole post reeks of “what the hell is wrong with me?” and maybe the answer is “absolutely nothing at all.”
Of course you’re scared of losing your sexual charm. We all are. It’s one of the crappiest things about getting older. We men don’t even have the advantage of having hordes of women following us around just hoping to get laid, so it’s quite easy to begin to be traded out for a newer, shinier model.
But that’s not pathological. It’s part of the human condition; it’s just a part that we’re not SUPPOSED to admit to. It’s like the fear of death. We’re all supposed to be well adjusted, we’re not supposed to be afraid of dying. But we all are. Every. Single. Damned. One. Of. Us.
Enjoy what you have. Eventually it too will fade, and you’ll have to adjust again, just like we all do, sooner or later. But don’t let the psychobabblimg voices of self help gurus and pop psychologists convince you that you’re somehow defective for having this very common, very real human reaction to the universal, inevitable facts of aging and mortality.
Ahhh, getting older. I think I’ll choose to write about this again–I thought that I had said my peace, but in reality there are other layers that need to be considered. Using false intimacy as a means for avoiding the real, deep intimacy is definitely something that got missed, for example.
Thank you for your thoughtful reply, SPG, I was feeling a little sorry for myself yesterday. The previous two nights had not gone well, and I wanted to work out in my head why I felt so empty and alone. Putting the blame on a “midlife crisis” was the easy way out. I will need to think about this topic some more.
A very good post indeed. I lost my V at 16, because I just wanted to get rid of it. My first encounter was awful and left me with lots of hang ups, So I made it my mission to become great at everything sexual. Since 16 and I’m now 22, I’ve had countless of fuck buddies. I haven’t been able to go long without having sex, other wise I get pains and I start to feel really shitty. Recently, I asked myself this very question, what motivates me to have sex? It’s a hard one to answer because I didn’t want to be truthful with myself.
Looking back at my sexual encounters, they’ve been very fun!!! But really, it was all about pleasing someone else, and showing them I was good. The ego boost motivated me, and I found that I was having sex for just this. According to past people, and my family included, I had a sexual addiction.
I took 9 months out to see how I could cope, and it wasn’t that bad. I put my energy into other things. I now know I am good at sex and so don’t need the ego boost. (As much)
However I still stand by women being able to fuck who they want when they want, without having to have a reason like fear of age, or any other insecurities. Sex is a basic need, and when done right it’s pleasurable! Men have done it for years, and the psychologists have left them alone, until recently…
But I guess most of us don’t really want to end up alone, nor do we want to give up our active sexual antics. It’s getting that life balance I guess.
I do love your blog by the way – thanks for posting
L–
Wow! How I wish I had been as mature as you in my twenties instead of a complete freak (but that’s another story). Thank you for your thoughtful response and interesting story on this topic of what makes something an addiction and when is it a healthy part of who we are as human beings.
The thing about being a writer in a blogging community that is so satisfying is hearing from others that you’re not alone OR completely freakish OR that if you are completely freakish you are still not alone. I definitely look forward to reading more of your writing.