Love or sex?

Why can’t it be both?

Can it be both?

For me, sex is - and always has been - a huge part of my relationships.

A way for me to express myself and my intentions.

Sex is also something that I have used to get attention and to be liked by men who probably (definitely) did not give an actual shit about me.

My body has been over-sexualised since I had an E cup bra before I even turned 15 and I learned to use it in favour of friendship from the boys at school because, that way, at least they wouldn’t bully me like the girls did.

My attitude towards sex has grown and changed over the years but I still find myself getting a thrill from any kind of sexual attention - a habit I’ve unintentionally ingrained into myself, a habit of seeking external validation for a sense of approval.

This might be a controversial opinion - when is it not, where I’m concerned - but I think that passionate, desperate sex can only exist outside of a relationship…

I think this is why so many people have affairs.
(Something that has definitely happened to me…)

I think this is why so many people masturbate in secret while their partner is in the house - maybe in the bed next to them.
(Something that I found out had happened to me, while I was sleeping, when I found the stains on his side of the bed sheets…)

I think this is why so many people (I will 100% admit to being one of them) are obsessed with fantasy fiction that tells a story of romance and passion and lust.

But hear me out…

It’s not that I think sex in a relationship doesn’t exist - although that is very often true for a lot of people I know. Sex in a relationship can still be really good - maybe even great!

It’s more that the kind of sex we expect becomes slightly less realistic when we are so heavily influenced by… for example - the fantasy fiction novels and the steamy scenes in (fictional) movies and, of course, porn.

I’m speaking about the kind of sex where you want to literally tear each other’s clothes off you’re so desperate for each other. You get hard or wet almost immediately in their presence. You can’t keep your hands off each other. There’s a desperate, primal urge to be connected to each other…

This might have even been the kind of sex you had at the beginning of a relationship - or when you were younger - or when you were dating (read fucking) someone without any attachments or expectations.

So what changed?

I honestly just think that life gets in the way.

We get older. We have more to think about. More to do. We are busy. We are tired. We get too comfortable - peeing with the door open, farting in front of each other…

It’s not that the desire gets any less. It’s just that we, dare I say it, maybe take each other for granted a little bit more. In a relationship, sex becomes so (hypothetically) readily available that the desperate craving for it maybe starts to diminish and, eventually, just completely disappears.

Take when I worked in a chocolate shop, for example… I ate SO much chocolate (obscene amounts of chocolate) that for a whole year after I stopped working there I couldn’t eat a single other bite.

Is sex the same?

Can we ever have too much of it?

Or is it just that, once you start living together, the excitement of intimacy dies down like a fire that has slowly turned to ash. There might still be a few hot embers in there that - if stoked - could reignite, for a brief moment, to have one really great shag - maybe even spontaneously bent over the kitchen bench.

But it is mostly dampened by the ash of every day life.

We just have to try harder - that’s all.

Maybe consider actually telling each other what we want, what we like, what we expect…

Maybe pencilling some time into the diary to spend some quality time together - free from the chores and tasks of every day life…

I know - because they have told me - that people, who are not my partner, wank over me. People I’ve been in a relationship with, people who I’ve dated, people who I have never been intimate with in my life.

I’m well aware that it is the fantasy they are wanking over.
Not me, myself.

Especially where one of my exes is concerned because, when he had me, he was admittedly wanking over somebody else.

Sex is not love.
Love is not sex.

They exist separately and, sometimes, together - but they are so often wrongly interchanged to make people believe they are in love. Love is not someone desperately craving to fuck you. Love is not an ex who is turned on by the thought of you. Love is not a really great orgasm.

Love is friendship. It is the deep level of care and respect and kindness between two people that is a whole lot rarer than a good shag. Love is what you find when you let yourself be fully yourself and someone really sees you for that. Love is vulnerable. Love is scary.

Love is something that I don’t believe everyone has been lucky enough to truly experience.

Sex is great.
Sex is easy.
I love sex.
But I love love more.

Love is hard. Sex can feel harder, more evasive, less erotic sometimes once you’re in love. Maybe it feels that way because it is raw.

When you’re in love, you are witnessed in your absolute wholeness - like your whole outer layer of skin has been peeled off, leaving you completely exposed and extremely vulnerable.

Sex can also feel deeper, more intimate, more peaceful once you’re in love.

Once you’re truly in love, sex might just look like something completely different to what you’re used to. It might not be as desperate or frantic or shallow - BUT, if you let yourself be open to it, it might just blow your fucking mind.