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Awkwardette's Ill-Advised Guides

Awkwardette’s Ill-Advised Guide to Getting it On: Fucking for Fuck’s Sake

When I have sex, the last thing on my mind is the fact that I am, well, having sex. Something I think about a lot when getting it on is my chin. Sounds super weird, but I really wish I could forget about my chin. The only time I’m not thinking about my chin is when I’m wasted, in which case I am usually trying to figure out how long it’s going to last before I have to awkwardly throw on clothes and tip toe to the bathroom.

I am most self-conscious of it when having missionary-style sex, or whenever I’m lying on my back. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of allowing a boyfriend to photograph me during sex. How porn stars do it, I’ll never understand. After viewing the pictures, I probably couldn’t have sex again for a whole week (I know, right?). I didn’t like how my head looked against the pillow. This Jabba the Hut thing happened where it sort of swallowed my neck because of gravity. Since then, I try to contort my head in all sorts of ways, except the Fat Girl Angle shot does not work IRL.

It sounds like I’m not confident in bed, but what is confidence in bed? Is it forgetting about your chin? Is it not worrying about the fact that when you do it doggy style, your belly is nearly touching the bed and it was probably a poor choice to put your full-length mirror right there?

My boyfriend
True love always

Regardless of the self-criticism going on inside of me that would make enough material for Killing Us Softly IV, I think I do a pretty bang up job of making it seem like I am some kind of wild sex beast who isn’t interested in what a guy thinks of me. I am a free, sexual spirit, riding cock like I’m Joan of Arc, as though it’s my steed carrying me to righteous victory. It couldn’t possibly be that I watch way too much porn and have mastered the art of looking like it feels good. I am a pro at pretending to be confident.

See, Joan of Arc was fucking crazy. She was hearing voices, and so am I. And these voices are fucking assholes.

“Your boobs are saggy.”

“The floppy sound your ass is making is gross.”

“Your thighs are too brown.”

“Your hair is out of place.”

“Did he really just have to lift your belly to get to your clitoris right now?”

Anyone who’d be thinking these thoughts more likely than not wouldn’t have ever made it past first base with me if they even bothered to take a swing. If a guy ever verbalized anything near this, he wouldn’t last another 10 seconds around me. Why in the hell do I allow myself to be such a bully?

I wonder if it would be different if I had sex for me, and not for the other person. Sex has always been about the other person. My favorite thing in the world to do is give blowjobs, and seriously, why? Having a dick in your mouth should be freaking awful, because it’s a dick”¦in your mouth. And yet, gimmie the look of satisfaction on a fella’s face, and I feel pleased with myself (until I start to chastise my body again). I hope he goes back to all of his stupid friends whom I’d never have sex with anyway and brag about my fellating bravado.

I wonder what would happen if I began to fuck for fuck’s sake. You know, if I went into sex with this ridiculous notion that it’s supposed to feel good for me, that maybe being vulnerable isn’t such a terrible thing. I need to remind myself that if I already have the dude in the sack, chances are on my side that he is attracted to me. It’s easier said than done of course, after a lifetime of the male gaze convincing me that sex is a performance akin to Jessie Spano in Showgirls.

So, am I ruined? Am I a bad feminist? How can I be consciously sex-positive, but then such a negative Nancy in the moment? Obviously I don’t have the answers to these questions. I know that when I’m by myself sexually, these thoughts don’t happen. When I look in that full-length mirror, I am in awe of my curves and of my imperfections. I like how I look.

Maybe I just need to find a man-sized Hitachi Magic Wand. Yup. Problem solved.

By awkwardette

Michelle M. aka awkwardette is a multi-disciplinarian. She moonlights as an activist while earning her big bucks making the internet easier to use. She also writes about pop music on PopMinx.com and aspires to be Amelia Fletcher when she grows up. She prefers listening to The Jesus and Mary Chain when doin' it.

8 replies on “Awkwardette’s Ill-Advised Guide to Getting it On: Fucking for Fuck’s Sake”

I’m 28, and I’m not too bad for thinking about that stuff.  It’s an ongoing process.  I’m getting fatter and rollier lately, which can be difficult to deal with.  But…the people I have sex with clearly are into it.  So I find it difficult to worry about what they think, since it’s pretty obvious.  If it wasn’t obvious, I doubt I’d be having sex with them in the first place.

I try to get used to how I look.  I took 365 pictures of myself, one a day, and tried not to make them all flattering. I look at pictures that other people take of me, and wait out the “ewwwwwww land whale” reflex action in my mind.

It gets easier, I think. But it does take effort. Fortunately I REALLY LIKE orgasms with other people involved, so there’s a whole lot of motivation to deal with it.

I think it’s because “sex-positive” and “you-positive” aren’t the same thing.  Unfortunately, they often coincide.  The answer might be in your own statement, “If I already have a dude in the sack, chances are on my side that he’s attracted to me.”  People who are already attracted to us don’t really tend to notice the things that bother us.  And when you think about it, it’s the other way around, too.  We don’t really put a lot of thought into whether our partner looks weird during sex, just ourselves.

Only have sex with people who are blindfolded?

I kid, I kid (although… on second thought, I don’t, because if they’re into that it can be very fun, though perhaps not sustainable as a long-term strategy).

Apart from your intrusive inner bully, do you enjoy sex with other people? I love this post (your writing is great) but I just don’t get the sense from it about why you’re having sex, apart from performance.

Personally, if I get those thoughts or a badly-placed mirror, I’ll try to focus on the other senses – sensation, touch, sounds – and how much I’m enjoying it, but that might be difficult to do if there’s not much enjoyment there.

I do the same as you. I’ve struggled with body image issues for most of my life and for a few years in college with an eating disorder, but those insecurities have almost never bled over into sex for me because I’m so focused on what I’m doing and what’s being done to me, and how good I’m feeling and how good I’m making my partner feel. (Or, on occasions, “Man, this is disappointing, I’m not going to do this with this person again but at least it could make an entertaining story for friends.”) It’s quite possibly the only time that my brain shuts off!

Something that I found helpful when I first began exploring partnered sex and was confronting those issues in that context for the first time was remembering that the people I was with weren’t perfect and didn’t have perfect bodies either. I felt insecure about my boobs being a little asymmetrical and about a host of other really common body “problems,” and then one day when we were just hanging out I noticed that the guy I was hooking up with at the time had faded stretch marks on his arms. It didn’t make me any less attracted to him or any less interested in hooking up with him, and I realized that was probably how any partners would feel about the things I disliked about my body – they either wouldn’t notice, or they would notice and wouldn’t care, and once the fun got started they definitely wouldn’t notice or give a shit about it. It was such a simple realization, but it made a world of difference for me and my confidence.

 they either wouldn’t notice, or they would notice and wouldn’t care, and once the fun got started they definitely wouldn’t notice

Yup. Succintly put:) Plus being able to compare stretchmarks with a partner and still have great sex is a big plus.

Oh dear I felt the same way for years and years. Oddly, it wasn’t until after I had children that I started to feel beautiful. I mean, I am not the hottie I used to think I was! But I think it might come with age, too? I am 35 or so (I honestly can’t ever remember my age – it’s a great thing) and I have this whole new confidence. Maybe that’s where the whole cougar thing comes from! Hang in there, I think it gets better. I don’t remember when I started fucking for fucks sake (love that phrase, thanks for it!) but it’s loads of fun, especially when you’ve got a spiritual connection with your partner.

 

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