I remember crawling into bed, exhausted from a long day at work, and him kissing my neck. In my head, the words, “I’m not in the mood for sex” spelt out in defeat; but, I kissed him back anyway. I would never dare to push away the man sucking on my neck, roll over, and say, “sorry baby, I’m too tired tonight.” Instead, I undressed myself, motivated by the voices that told me, “if he’s not getting sex in the relationship, he’ll find it elsewhere.”
Time and time again I have heard the words, “men need sex, it’s just a part of their chemistry.” I heard it from my mother first, and later discovered that TV sitcoms and movies alike never seem to shy away from joking about the untamable male boner, and the wives who grew tired of satisfying their husband’s unquenchable sexual needs. And more recently, I have even encountered this discourse on the everyday internet memes, and seen it as a point of discussion for writers who convince us that relationships are destitute without active sexual relationships. And while these innuendos about men leaving their wives because blowjobs grew scarce may only seem like a cheap laugh, to me, these “jokes” were the very cause of severe emotional trauma in my life.
It is important to know that for the better part of my life, I considered myself a “sexual person,” even prior to turning in my “V-card.” I loved talking about my girlfriends’ sex lives over coffee. I loved reading Cosmo articles on the latest-and-greatest sex position for the month. And when I finally did lose my virginity, I seemed to gain a newfound love for all things sex. And I know what you’re thinking: everyone loves sex, after all. Sure, everyone might love orgasms, and having their sexual needs met. But I, on the other hand, felt a much deeper appreciation for the act. I adored the idea that a single act could bond two people in a way nothing else could. I was rather obsessed with the process of getting to know my partner’s body, their fantasies, and their unique desires. To me getting to know someone sexually, was equally as exciting as learning about someone’s hometown, their childhood, and their passions—as it was a beautifully intimate way to connect two people in love.
And while my first sexual partner opened the door to a passion for sex, it was the second notch in my bedpost that seemed to slam that door shut. My raging infatuation for sex quickly turned into a shaky on-again-off-again affair—and to be honest it had been one of the most devastating breakups of my life. I no longer craved those intimate nights, and suddenly sex became some sort of painful chore. And while you might be blaming the man I invited under the sheets, I do not. Rather, my sexual exhaustion was the result of something society swept under the rug, and my bedroom sheets.
I, like many other women, had been in a long-term relationship with the dreaded birth control pill. And much like my relationship with sex, it wasn’t always a happy one. The pill not only made me the girl who cries at commercials, but robbed me of the sex drive I once knew (and loved). And while this loss was completely out of my hands, and a very real side effect of my medication, I received very little compassion, and very little accommodation for my newfound sexual disinterest. I was still expected to meet my partner’s sexual needs, because that’s what girlfriends are supposed to do—or so they told me.
No one from the media to my most recent boyfriend, assured me that my feelings were valid and worth catering to. Instead, I felt pressures to ignore what my body was telling me, and simply push through it, to ignore the tired and sexually disinterested parts of myself, and be sexual anyway; and that is when I truly fell out of love with this beautiful act. Ironically enough, I was once the woman completely perplexed by the ladies who said they got “tired” of sex, and passed up the opportunity to sleep with their partners simply because they didn’t “feel like it.” However, at this time in my life, I have never related to these women more than I do now.
But, for the record, I do not relate to this crowd simply because women will always be emotional creatures, ones that crave romance over rough sex. Rather, I believe we are missing an extremely crucial piece of the sexual puzzle. If so many women are taking the plunge with the pill, and a proven side effect is, in fact, a decreased libido, maybe women aren’t naturally less sexual than their male counterparts. Maybe, just maybe, we’ve attributed a difference among the genders to nature, when, really, we should be attributing the difference to a tiny pill pack.
But this disregard for our medically induced lower libidos, is far from an innocent mistake. In fact, it may have even been the very cause for the fall of my most recent relationship. Because I did not feel comfortable to roll over in bed and admit that I “wasn’t in the mood,” a rather unfortunate resentment of sex stemmed. And more sadly, I began to resent him too.. Though he was unaware of my suffering, I was very much aware of my craving for someone who would understand my sexual needs—or the lack there of. And I know that I am not alone.
I, and many other women, need to live in a world where the only option isn’t to suck it up, and suck him off anyway. And while I understand we can’t surrender our sex lives to our birth control, why must women always wave the white flag? Why is ignoring a man’s sexual needs a cause for war, where women’s sexual needs can slide under the radar, and no one bats an eye? We must absolutely realize that women being sexually unfulfilled is just as tragic, and just as harmful as a man being such. And until we all bring attention to that notion, women will sexually suffer just as I have.