Sexual health and enjoying sex
I don't know about you, but when I hear the term 'sexual health', the first thing that jumps to mind is physical health (STDs and how to avoid them). Physical sexual online pharmacy is hugely important, though not really something I plan to discuss in this blog. I'm far more interested in the psychological aspects of sexual health.
This week Stephen Fry was slammed for saying that women don't enjoy sex as much as men. I certainly think he's wrong, but I also understand (to some extent) how some men AND WOMEN come to think that this is true.
I was raised in a fairly conservative family, the sort that teaches that sex is something best saved for marriage and that masturbation is a sin. As a result, when I entered my first (and to date, only) long-term relationship in my late teens, I had never given any thought to my own sexuality or sexual desire. I was pretty keen on making out with my boyfriend (now The Ex), but whenever he tried to take things further (for example, by feeling me up) I simply felt uncomfortable.
It actually took me a full two years of dating this amicable, sexually attractive young man to discover within myself the stirrings of sexual desire. In the meantime, for two years, physical intimacy was something he wanted. I liked the fact that he wanted me, but I didn't feel any reciprocal desire within myself. (This didn't present too many problems because at the time we were both Christians, and fans of abstinence. It didn't occur to me that my lack of interest was an issue.) I simply wasn't in touch with my sexual self.
I wonder how much of the sterotype of women being disinterested in sex comes from the fact that many women are disinterested in sex. And I wonder whether most of these women are disinterested in sex because they've never been encouraged to familiarise themselves with their own sexual desire.
Incidentally, I first tapped in to my own sexual desire alone, in Europe and missing my then-boyfriend. In the intervening years, I've discovered that my own sex drive is incredibly strong. I like sex. I really, really like sex. Contrary to Mr. Fry's thoughts (and also the thoughts of some of the commentators who disagreed with him), sometimes - actually, pretty often - I really do need to 'get my rocks off'. Turns out I'm more or less insatiable (or, depending on how you look at it, just very satiable).
I don't think my sex drive is particularly unusual; nor do I think my lack of interest in sex at eighteen and nineteen was particularly unusual. I've been the stereotypical not-interested woman, and I've been the insistent, hungry lover. I feel better about myself now that I'm in touch with my own sexuality, but I'm also incredibly grateful that nobody ever pushed or pressured me to become a sexual being before I was ready to be one.
Sexual experience is varied. It's not divided down lines of male and female, LGTB or heterosexual, interested or not interested. It changes from person to person, and it changes within each person. Stereotyping, saying that particular groups experience sex in particular ways, is an unhealthy sexual practice. Maybe there are statistical differences, maybe not. If there are statistical differences, perhaps they're natural or perhaps (more likely) they're produced by culture.
Whether or not women in general like sex as much as men in general, I think that my sex drive is OK. It was OK when it was non-existent, when I was young and unprepared for sexual encounters. And it's OK now that it's strong, insistent, and regular. I'm not interested in norms. I'm interested in being healthy.
This week Stephen Fry was slammed for saying that women don't enjoy sex as much as men. I certainly think he's wrong, but I also understand (to some extent) how some men AND WOMEN come to think that this is true.
I was raised in a fairly conservative family, the sort that teaches that sex is something best saved for marriage and that masturbation is a sin. As a result, when I entered my first (and to date, only) long-term relationship in my late teens, I had never given any thought to my own sexuality or sexual desire. I was pretty keen on making out with my boyfriend (now The Ex), but whenever he tried to take things further (for example, by feeling me up) I simply felt uncomfortable.
It actually took me a full two years of dating this amicable, sexually attractive young man to discover within myself the stirrings of sexual desire. In the meantime, for two years, physical intimacy was something he wanted. I liked the fact that he wanted me, but I didn't feel any reciprocal desire within myself. (This didn't present too many problems because at the time we were both Christians, and fans of abstinence. It didn't occur to me that my lack of interest was an issue.) I simply wasn't in touch with my sexual self.
I wonder how much of the sterotype of women being disinterested in sex comes from the fact that many women are disinterested in sex. And I wonder whether most of these women are disinterested in sex because they've never been encouraged to familiarise themselves with their own sexual desire.
Incidentally, I first tapped in to my own sexual desire alone, in Europe and missing my then-boyfriend. In the intervening years, I've discovered that my own sex drive is incredibly strong. I like sex. I really, really like sex. Contrary to Mr. Fry's thoughts (and also the thoughts of some of the commentators who disagreed with him), sometimes - actually, pretty often - I really do need to 'get my rocks off'. Turns out I'm more or less insatiable (or, depending on how you look at it, just very satiable).
I don't think my sex drive is particularly unusual; nor do I think my lack of interest in sex at eighteen and nineteen was particularly unusual. I've been the stereotypical not-interested woman, and I've been the insistent, hungry lover. I feel better about myself now that I'm in touch with my own sexuality, but I'm also incredibly grateful that nobody ever pushed or pressured me to become a sexual being before I was ready to be one.
Sexual experience is varied. It's not divided down lines of male and female, LGTB or heterosexual, interested or not interested. It changes from person to person, and it changes within each person. Stereotyping, saying that particular groups experience sex in particular ways, is an unhealthy sexual practice. Maybe there are statistical differences, maybe not. If there are statistical differences, perhaps they're natural or perhaps (more likely) they're produced by culture.
Whether or not women in general like sex as much as men in general, I think that my sex drive is OK. It was OK when it was non-existent, when I was young and unprepared for sexual encounters. And it's OK now that it's strong, insistent, and regular. I'm not interested in norms. I'm interested in being healthy.