I've run out of reasons...

My brain is starting to twinge and moan at me.

I've been reading entirely too much on social-sexual dynamics and seduction. It's telling me I'm overdosing, imbalancing myself, thinking entirely too much on the topic, weighing so many opinions and ideas and, wow, it's break-time.

It wouldn't normally be this bad, but work is slow, which leans itself to days and days of surfing the WWW.

Ugh, so done.

I'm trying to just write myself out of this paperbag I've found myself in.

The above sentence makes more sense if you have had a cat.

Last night, one of my friends asked me how I view my sexuality.

Now, those open ended questions are great, because they allow the person making the inquiry to see what the interviewee dubs important information to convey.

I was entirely unable to answer the question.

I looked at him and said, "Whuh??"

And then I turned to C and asked her to answer his question for me because I was in the realm of lost. She said I treat it as a tool. That I use it to access certain parts of myself.

I thought that was interesting.

I use it to access parts of me, I suppose, but more often than not, I use it to access information from other people. Because people are fascinating and I want to know it all, I want to know all the hang ups and concerns, all the fetishes and horror stories, all those embarassing moments that you've never told another person because you've never felt comfortable with it, but you tell me because that's what people do.

I don't think I see my sexuality as separate from myself. I'm very aware of myself as a sexual being, very aware of others. I don't see it as a compulsion, or something that controls my movements, as much as my own psychology does, and sometimes sex is just a way of getting my brain onto other topics.

I told him that I like how I am. I like that my experience, as odd and damaging as they were at the time, allow me to talk to so many people. So many people talk to me.

It was actually pretty awesome. I was explaining that to the man that asked me the question, how my comfortability and openness with my damage, with embarassments, with fetishes, kinks, and general history, basically makes people just dump their sexuality at my feet. That people tell me things they may never tell another person.

And he was nodding, and I thought to myself, "Wait, I can actually confirm this right now, I can illustrate this."

So I called C into the room and asked her to tell him about the night we first met, and she did, telling him that even though we had not really spoken before, she was able to share something with me that she felt incredibly ashamed and embarassed about in regards to her sexual activity, something that she never felt comfortable telling anyone, including boyfriends and lovers. And what a relief it was to be able to share it with someone who she knew would not judge, because of how I acted in regards to my own past stupidity.

That ability I have, it's something I would never want to give up.

And, you know, my own mother did the same thing. Yes, my mom. Shared embarassing sexual incident (that occured with a boyfriend she had before my father) with me and, after, told me that it was so great that she felt so comfortable in knowing I would not judge her at all.

This is so standard.

I love being able to help, I love that people feel so much better after talking to me. I love providing that space that so few provide for me, and not because I'm such a fantastically good person (hardly), but because it's needed, it's so very needed.

People are so damaged when it comes to sex, their own sexuality, the opposite sex. There's nearly always something unhealthy, something they themselves find damaging or uncomfortable.

And I've moved past that. It's lovely.

I've moved past it to the point that it's observable.

There are other things that I have to deal with, that's obviously true. My body image is spectacularly lacking, and I still have to fight anxiety, and not being in the moment with my constant analyzing, along with the standard self-doubt.

But when it's sex... I'm free. I'm strong. No doubts, just enjoyment. It's exploration and growth, experience. I have come so far, the girl I was was left behind me. Almost untouchable.

And to be able to share that...

I could never had done it, gotten to where I am now, without two particular men that taught me so much. One, when I was 18, and still using sex as a weapon against myself. The other, when I was 20, and he showed me how to open up again, how to trust and enjoy myself, how to heal.

Without those two, I'd probably still be lost.

So I give back in their names.

I give back because of the damage I've done to others. It's not exactly repenting, but it is fighting off the effects girls like I was have on men. Trying to undo the psychological bruising.

Yes, it's all just a bunch of tree-hugger crap. I know.

But it works.

And there's more to me than that.

And while I love doing it, love listening, love the stories... I've become rather, well, done with the physical helping. I don't want to sleep with men I need to help. I want to sleep with men I respect. And I don't respect men with sexual hang-ups.

I don't mind helping, but where does that get me? My "female value" is considered lower for adding another notch to my belt, no matter what the reason, no matter what the practice.

I was talking with someone earlier today who told me that if he met an 18 year old who had had ten partners, he would greatly reconsider sleeping with her because, essentially, he wants quality girls, and quality girls don't sleep around.

You know, I know many women that don't sleep around. And they certainly aren't "quality". I find quality to be more defined by character, not sexual behavior.

But then, what do I know? I'm biased. My experience with men and their views of women and sex has left me sitting here, pondering it all because so much of it is so very... uncontrolled? Illogical? Dissonant?

I don't know the word I'm looking for.

Double standard aside, let's say that guys want to get laid as much as possible. Preferrably with women. On top of that, attractive women.

So they hunt and they game and they try to achieve that pinnacle of manhood: boning some chick.

If they caught her young enough, she's probably going to be inexperienced and naive and, wow, they've bagged a trophy girl who doesn't know how to have sex or communicate her desires, but they'll train her, oh yes they will, because she's quality and now she's going to be their quality bed partner.

Eventually, she gets released into the wild. They break up, they split, for whatever reason.

Now someone's had her before. She's less special, less desired, because she "gave it up" for another man. She's not as high quality.

Yes, I'm more than well aware of evo-biology theories, and sexual psychology. I'm just saying we're better than that. If we all had the same traits and desires starting off, then those change with experience, with knowledge gained.

So this slightly tarnished woman gets taken up by another man, who, once again, charms the pants off her. (And, no, this is absolutely nowhere near my own personal story, I'm just going for generic.)

She's trained, she's experienced, but only with one guy. So it's mostly okay.

She ages. More experience occurs. More partners. She's no longer that young, bouncy thing anymore, but maybe a woman of the world. Maybe not. Maybe she's an airhead that will dress like a hot 20-something when she's 45. I have no idea.

But she's essentially worthless now. She's low quality.

And all these men that came along, through her life, that charmed her, maybe that genuinely cared for her for a period of time, have left nothing but footprints across her mind. Footprints and, of course, a track record. A history that degrades her in the eyes of potential suitors everywhere because she "wasn't smart enough" to "keep her pants on".

If she had been a good girl, she would have realized that her value solely lies in how sexually inexperienced she is.

It doesn't matter how smart she is.
Or how hot.
Or how noble, honest, charitable, kind, giving, or any other complimentary adjective you want to toss in there.

No, it comes down to how many penises she's had inside her.

Because personality counts for nothing when it comes to choosing a mate.

Or so I am continually led to believe.

If you don't like a girl's personality, but you want her, you manipulate her. You engineer her into learning how to please you and how not to treat you. Easy. You play games and read psychology books, you learn tricks, and you've got this girl doing whatever you want, whenever you want.

And when you move on, you move on.

So maybe this girl is 24 and has been with, what, ten guys? Fifteen, maybe, if we're pushing it? If she started on her 18th birthday, and we clock out at her 24th birthday, that gives her seven years. So let's say 14 partners. Two partners a year.

That hussy.

Oh, and then there's that theory that I keep hearing that the more sex partners a girl has, the more damage she's going to have.

...
...
...
...wait, you're saying the more men a girl is exposed to, the worse off she'll be?

Well, with this train of thought I've been going through, no wonder.

And then, when she steps off riding these guys like a proper cowgirl, she'll be berated and belittled (and bemoaned!) by the guys she runs across. She'll be treated as though she is lesser, as though she is not worth their time in any way but sexual, and even then, there will be worry of STDs being expressed.

I can't imagine why there would be psychological damage done. I mean, this whole set-up seems so healthy.

You know when I disqualify a man? When I hear him call a girl a slut or any other equivalent. I look at him and think, "Wow, you're a moron." And I move on.

Because nothing suits me so poorly as one person actively and aggressively judging another by their own morals.

And, yes, I know I'm doing it now. I'm looking at this from my own, "Don't sink other people's ships, you self-centered asshats," point of view. Not really productive, but I don't particularly care. I'm writing this for me. If people don't like it, they have the obvious option of stopping their reading activity or reading on and picking apart everything I've written in a flamboyant counter-point.

Neither is overly impactful to me.

But I'm tangenting in a wild way.

Let's return to this poor 24 year old girl, this hussy that has slept with 14 men in the last seven years.

Frankly, I'm appalled by her reckless behavior. She must have had bad parents or a come from a broken family. Maybe her uncle molested her. Can we please explain away the reasons why she could have possibly done what she did?

Let's find something to blame.

Actually, no, I'm not going to bother. You can find something to blame. I'm going to continue on with something else.

So she's left valueless. If she's lucky, she'll meet a nice young man (who has probably had more sexual experience than she has) that is willing to overlook her past indiscretions, but only as long as they never talk about it, and that she swears, if it ever comes up, he was the best she's ever had and she's so lucky he's in her life now.

She certainly found herself a winner.

He'll also wonder if she'll cheat on him. She's shown no control over her sex drive in the past, so he has to keep her away from her male friends, if she has any. He might even wonder if their potential children will exhibit her behaviors.

Yes, I've heard worse than that.

The paranoia of the average male runs deep.

But I'm not going to get into that.

So she's settled into this life with a man who suspects she might cheat on him, looks down on her past behavior, and worries about their offspring. He may never forgive her for what she did before she met him. Yes, I have met men like this.

It was tossed to me, this morning, that maybe some lesser male will settle for me, eventually. Someone not smart enough to know better, someone not strong enough to stay away from the lures of the flesh.

No, not just mine.

I blinked at it.

When I want a relationship, I have few problems getting one. Even when I don't want a relationship, I still have problems with men wanting one. Yes, even knowing my sexual history. The men who call me a slut behind my back never quite manage to scrounge up the balls to do it to my face or any of my friends, which is quite odd. Yet men online are more than happy to do so.

When I do get into my next relationship, it will, as always be with a man. Not just some male, but a man. An educated, experienced, attractive man. Because that's what I date. Anything less than that is either not interesting or only good for bedwarming.

I don't do "lesser" men.

And there are plenty of men out there that are quite happy with my history and what it brings to our relationship, and not just in a sexual way. I am a font of information and experience, someone people come to, who strangers come to for odd counsel and dumping of the soul.

I date men with values similiar to my own. Which means I will never date a man who makes me feel bad about my sexual experience. Because I like maturity. I like openness. I like acceptance and lack of judgement.

Sometimes, yes, I meet men that have heard about my wild ways, have heard about, from whatever social circle they hail from, how so many people have failed to gain my interest, and they want me, they want me as a notch on their belt. They want the bragging rights.

If I want them, I sleep with them.

It's flattering, really. And, yes, stop your gagging. To be someone's mountain to climb. To be something to be bragged about. Something to be achieved.

I think I'm just going to make it that much harder.

Technically, I'm screwed anyhow. No man will ever want me for a long-term relationship now. Or so I'm told.

Might as well have fun with it.