Nearly Stolen From Me

In a recent post, I wrote that I have had good sex. I wish to write more, coz for much of my life I thought male violence stole my sexuality from me.

I think my perspective is knowing how sex is used to destroy, makes the discovery of having fun, being able to forget the past, having the ability to be in the moment, feels like a miracle to me.

I was told and shown that sex was pain, sex was becoming less than dog shit.

I was made to perform, to never complain, to pretend I loved torture.

That was named sex and it was all that I knew.

But I survived my life coz I has brief of oasis’s of good sex.

I discovered I was a sexual being. I found I loved the thinking of it.

I loved having lust in a harmless way.

I had always knew it was there. It was there as I saw Eartha Kitt being Catwoman. It was there as I watched Emma Peel. It was there in film noirs.

I knew as I was stirred, as I heated up watching them. It seemed clean, innocent and such fun.

But, I never said anything. I knew it would be destroyed.

I knew my stepdad would say I was a pervert.

He did that when I fancies Debbie Harry.

When I placed a poster over my bed. Yes, I love her. Yes, she stirred my hormones all over the place.

He ripped up my poster, calling me a fucking dyke.

And then he did oral sex on me, saying he would teach me how to be a lesbian.

It made me determined never to have sex with women. I made that part of me dead.

It made me into a whore, I thought I would sleep with as many men as I could.

I thought it would put my stepdad off me.

I was so naive.

But even in my personal hell of prostitution, I found good sex. I found I could get and give respect, I found I could allow some vulnerability out, I found I come let myself be close with another person.

More, I found I could remember how to laugh, I could even cry.

I shock myself by having real orgasms, not my endless fake ones. I found sex would make me shake, it would force life into my body.

Finding I loved sex, made me find I was not dead.

Yes, the violence and hate nearly killed me.

I praised everyone who shown me I was not dead.


One response to “Nearly Stolen From Me

  1. Rebecca, I’m so glad that those abusive men weren’t able to take your sexual gestalt away from you, no matter how many times they tried to steal it through vicious torture…

    I found sex would make me shake, it would force life into my body.

    Finding I loved sex, made me find I was not dead.

    I hear you. 🙂

    I fancies Debbie Harry

    I love Debbie Harry too. 🙂 I love listening to Blondie sometimes…


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