I love discussions with Kyle. One thing that has come up recently is the idea of our chosen people not seeing us, or vital parts of us, and how it is still painful months, and sometime YEARS later.
Looking back on my previous three relationships, the thing that hurt most of all was not actually the lack of sex, which is one of my needs. It was the way my partners didn't see me. My sex drive was abnormal and less valuable than other forms of intimacy.
In monogamous relationships, the person with the higher sex drive is the one who must compromise, because consent is paramount. No one should be forced into sex. And this is where it gets tricky and people think the issue is all about sex.
In my experience, I complained about the lack of sex. Yet, the true hurt was how I was shamed for my desire. The hurt was my lack of visibility in the relationship. The hurt revolved around part of me being so disdained that it grew to disdain of all of me. My partners were not okay with a core part of who I am, which is why all those relationships ended. It's like, "I love all of you, except that one thing." What that really means is "I don't love you at all."
People are whole beings. We have amazingly complicated lives. We have more facets than you can imagine and if you can't accept the whole person, if you can't love the whole person, then you don't truly love them. This doesn't mean my partners had to have sex with me more often. It means they had to acknowledge and love me, as I am, even if they did not want to have sex with me. It also means that I have to acknowledge and love them, as they are, even if they did not want to have sex with me.
This is a topic I revisit cyclically, this not being seen and loved for my high sex drive self. Each time I revisit, I draw parallels to other ways of not being seen, of not being valued with a focus on gender and sexual orientation. Right now, I am watching a friend of mine trying to forge their path, making compromise after compromise because his partner cannot see his gender, refuses to see his gender, because of reasons only she knows. I project my experiences onto what I see because it is so close to my heart and I ache for him. All I can do is reassure him that I see him, because anything more wouldn't be helpful. I wonder if that is enough.
I understand this in a huge way, though for me it is a need to detangle and unwrap myself from my sexual persona. While it is a part of who I am, I have needed to learn that when sex is rejected it is not a rejection of me by my boyfriend but rather a rejection for his own reasons. I am a highly sexually driven person, which conflicts with the stereotype of what is acceptable of a woman. Learning to steer my way through adulthood and accepting myself as being a sexual person has been complicated in that I was taught that women desire sex because of need for acceptance and love...not because they enjoy it. Which is not only unfair but exceptionally unhealthy to teach a young woman. Being told I "think and act like a man" because my behavior (not just my sex drive, either) does not coincide with the way a woman is expected to behave has furthered my confusion and shame. I was pestered as a teenager by parents and grandparents demanding to know if I was, in fact, a lesbian because I had shown no interest in a relationship with either gender but seemed to have an abhorrence toward boys. Though, that runs far deeper than sexual desire and that was NOT their business, anyway. Still, it made me feel like I was strange.
ReplyDeleteI am a lot more confident in who I am now but it took a long time and a shitty divorce to get to this point. Still working out the kinks but I think I've got this!
Great read! I really enjoyed it and feeling less alone for a change.