I’m creating the next big advancement in women’s sexual expression and here’s why:
Ten years ago I lost my sex drive. I was married with two kids, and it happened silently over the span of few years. There were small signs along that two-year descent: a flinch here, an “I’ll just get this over with” there. A “would you touch me more slowly” here (which never went over well), a fear I must be broken over there.
Some of my women friends say, “I learned from the beginning of my sex life to ask for what I wanted.” I was not one of those women. Asking for what I wanted sexually was a complicated pursuit.
Firstly, I believed every time my partner touched me he was doing me a favor.
My body was SO complicated, after all. I had these emotions about sex that didn’t make any sense. He’d touch me and I wouldn’t like it. “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t answer that question any better than, “Something… but I can’t tell what it is.” I couldn’t find the easy answer. “Do XYZ and then I’ll be happy.” I couldn’t yet stand by my conviction that something didn’t feel right, because “this doesn’t feel right” wasn’t yet a valid reason in my mind. Instead, it meant I was being picky and difficult.
So I attempted to make myself easier to deal with.
After all, I learned through feeling pathologically “too big” my whole life that the least attractive thing a woman could be was needy and demanding. “Pretend I don’t really care” was a survival strategy, both in love and sex. Living as if I could take it or leave it kept that wild thing inside of me at bay.
Because that wild thing, I’d learned, causes problems. Like fights and affairs and never being satisfied. Like emotions that won’t stop at the appropriate time. Like feeling occasionally disgusted by the person I loved. Like wanting the rattle the bars of the cage and change everything (again).
So I tried to have sex while keeping my wild thing under wraps. I tried to get what I wanted without directly asking for it. I’d squiggle my hips to get him in the right place instead of simply asking him to move. I’d moan so he felt like a champ. I’d play up how much I was enjoying myself, not sure if I was trying to convince him or me that everything was going great.
All those theatrics were to stave off that sinking, devastating feeling inside that sex didn’t work for me (or my wild thing). Which meant there must be something wrong with me… Grin and bear it became the status quo. At least we had sex–that counted for something. At least I was normal.
I’ve learned since that everytime a woman (or anyone) grins and bears it during sex–even a little–she takes one step away from the vivid, colorful, fluttering beauty of her own wild sexuality and one step into the darkness.
Like leaving the wet, grassy meadow of discovery to go live in an old black and white movie. Everything was scripted: you’re supposed to gasp when he touches you, even if it doesn’t feel that great. You’re supposed to be breathless and eager, even if you’re not feeling that way. Just act, you’ll get into the mood eventually. And you finish what you start. Once the sex scene in a movie starts, they always finish–or at least insinuate that they did. Both people are happy and satisfied at the end.
The black and white movie of two-dimensional sex seemed to work well for him, but it left me feeling worse than empty inside. Worse because not only was I feeling empty, but I was criticizing myself for feeling that way. More “What is wrong with me?”
As sex became more like a ’50s black and white movie of obligation and trying to be nice and satisfying the male need for sex, I drew further and further away from own sexual desires. It still lived in me like a tiny voice, but I mostly overrode it.
All this back story is to explain why I teach what I teach today and why I’m going big in my desire to help more people.
That tiny voice occasionally had me seek help. Get a book. Talk to a friend. Read an article.
When I was feeling the most empty and shut down, the most certain there was something wrong with me, the most hopeless that it was ever going to change, that I was ever going to want sex again, that’s when I needed the most help.
And I found nothing. I found blowjob tips and suggestions of how lingerie might spice things up. But nothing that spoke to the pain I was in. Nothing that explained why this had happened.
I needed a solution that inspired me. That reacquainted me when my own sexual desire–not for him, but for me.
I’m sure there were options out there, but I couldn’t find them. I’d never heard of them. And the ones I had heard of I felt certain my partner would never do with me.
That’s why I’m developing the next big solution for the problem of sexual confusion, dissatisfaction, and hopelessness in long-term relationships. I never want a woman again to feel frustrated or betrayed by her body as she struggles to make her vivid, wild body conform to black and white.
I’m creating a solution that’s so accessible and affordable, that sexual happiness isn’t something that only women who have the time and money to go to weekend workshops can afford. I’m solving the problem I had 10 years ago so that every inner wild thing can safely emerge.
If you’re inspired by this, give me an amen. Or invest in my company. Come work with me. Introduce me to someone influential. Try out my products. Let your own wild thing out. Join the movement from black and white to color.
Advocate for women's sexual fulfillment