I’ve spent most of my erotic life in the chains of a restless brain.
Throughout the passionate act of sex, my mind traveled through hypothetical situations & trivial thoughts.
My half-finished to do list;
The expiration date on the soy milk I drank at breakfast;
How terrible the squeaking of the bed must sound to our neighbors;
The likelihood of one dying from three-day-old soy milk;
A random memory of me in middle school making structures out of toothpicks.
A thrust, lick, flick, or suck always managed to bring me back for a moment.
Why is my mind so overactive during sex?
That question only flooded more thoughts & visions into my head, making it so that I was oblivious to the intimacy happening to my body.
And through all of this, through all of the thinking & agonizing, was it any wonder that I found no enjoyment during sex?
Sex became an act solely for him, my partner, to get off, while I laid there helpless, my isolated body present but my mind elsewhere.
And when it was all over, I would roll over on my side, tears streaming down my cheeks, feeling defective.
My Out of Body, Into Mind tendency was likely spurred by my tumultuous relationship I had with sex, but I knew that it was comprised of something more, something that went deeper than the surface wounds of sexual trauma.
Why can’t I truly enjoy sex? What is wrong with me?
Is it my partner? No, he’s incredibly attentive.
Is it insecurity? No more than it usually is.
Is it the feng shui of the room? Perhaps...
On the surface, there seemed to be nothing needing to be solved, except my ineptitude in sexual intimacy.
So I tried harder.
When in the throes of passion, I moaned & writhed like I hysterical woman. I used dirty words within hollow, cheap commandments. I lit candles, wore lacy bustiers, & smoothed warming, silicone-filled lubricant all over my vulva.
I read every kind of “101 Sex Positions to WOW Him Tonight!” articles in Cosmopolitan. I researched the proper direction one’s bed should face in a bedroom if they wish to have their room more aligned to their sexual energy. I even took up pole dancing was a way to try to “fix” my sexual deficiency by doing.
I did all of these things with careful diligence, & still I found no real satisfaction in sex.
And I didn’t find real, sumptuous, I-don’t-want-to-move-an-inch satisfaction in sex until I went out of my mind.
We have a tendency to approach sex like a science, when it really is an art. Sex is meant to be raw & a little disorganized. Sex is meant to be felt.
Sensations & intimacy make sexual expression what it is, not tantric positions or high-speed vibrating dildos (though those things can aid in the enjoyment of the act itself).
Your systematic brain has no place in an act so unscripted.
Life is kind of like that, too.
When we are wrapped up in the thoughts in our minds — our worries, our fears, our insecurities, our jealousies — we are merely existing.
We hear, but are not listening. We see, but are not beholding. We touch, but are not feeling. We are here, but are not present.
The richness & vastness of life becomes wasted on our restless, logical minds.
If you want to have succulent sex, be present.
If you want to live a succulent life, be present.
In your experiences. In your relationships. In your body.
Resist the impulse to pile on information, products, activities, & ideals to seemingly fix what you think is broken.
You are not broken.
Your body knows exactly what to do innately.
My challenge to you: Get out of your mind & into your body. Take the pressure of orgasm out of the equation for an evening, & lose yourself in the movements of your hips & the sensations in your genitals. The orgasm is not as important as your ability feel. Breathe.
Treat sex with a lightness; have no expectations, other than some luscious skin-to-skin contact. Be silent, be still. See where the rhythm of your body wants to take you. Trust that, not some cockeyed sex positions in a cheesy $5 magazine.
And when you feel yourself slipping into the trance of a restless mind, remember: You don’t have to listen.