Coming Out Poly

We all went to the SEXPO series at UWM last week. I've been trying to think all week about what to write about regarding it, and it just hasn't come to mind . . . until today. Sexual Empowerment. That's what the talk that Tristan Toarmino gave was about. It was fascinating and informational and rewarding.

Men are raised to be expected to know what to do when it comes to sex. We're men. It's our animal instincts, right? Not so much. I grew up learning a few things about sex: you don't talk about it, you don't fantasize about it, you only do it with one person at a time, and you certainly don't go out and try to learn about it. My education: Playboy. One's that I snuck from my dad's collection or nabbed from the local bookstore (yeah I did that as a kid). What I did learn, though, was that I liked to masturbate. Oy! That's something to admit. I think most guys do; it's a good form of release. It wasn't until I got older that I learned that it was ok to enjoy it.

I didn't have sex until I was 19. I wasn't prudish about wanting it or shy about expressing my desire for it. I just never found the right girl who'd drop trow for me. It was disappointing. The first time sucked. In fact, most of the sex with my first sucked. We didn't know what the hell we were doing; we didn't know how to communicate what we liked; we didn't even know how to explore properly. It was terrible. When we broke up, I started getting a bit more heavily into BDSM, and I actually started to learn some things. Now I think I know a pretty substantial amount about sex, sexuality, and my own likes and dislikes, and I've learned how to express them properly.

So how was the SEXPO talk enlightening? Because I learned even more. I learned that it's ok to like things that people might think are strange. It's ok to want to explore and discover that you don't like something. It's ok to say that you're not interested in trying something - for whatever reason. That makes things easier - especially for a guy. Men are meant to enjoy sex, but they're never really meant to express that enjoyment in anything more than "yeah, that was good; did you like it, baby?". It's all supposed to be very routine and monotonous; and it's always satisfactory if we get off.

It's hard living in a culture that is so outwardly expressive of sexuality but inwardly repulsed by it. Commercials abound with boobs and booties and massive packages in tight shorts. Movies throw it in our faces just to get us to come and watch them (because most movies suck now and they need something to get people to the theater). It's everywhere. But we're only supposed to look. Sex isn't mean to be pleasurable or a pass-time; it's not meant to be something we strive to attain or enjoy or pursue. It's hard living in that. It's even worse wanting it from more than one person at once - and not in the threesome way. Women are whores, and men are players or cheats. It just doesn't make sense.

In some small way, though, I feel venerated after that talk, though. Despite the outpouring of disdain by society at large, I feel as though whatever I am compelled to do in my love life, sexual life, or other aspects of my personal life, is somehow looked upon with compassionate and approving eyes by those other sexually empowered folk around the world. It's a nice feeling.