This is another writing-as-therapy blog post, where I again explore emotions through song lyrics. I’ve spent a lot of the last few days flirting with cute humans and trying to arrange sex dates, and thus thinking a lot about how what I want out of a relationships. Do I want candlelight or face-fucking? Piss or roses? Do I have to make a choice at all?
When I first listened to Ghosted’s song Get Some, I fell in love with it. The lyrics spoke to the fiercely independent feminist inside me, the woman who never wanted to be dependant on a man. Having grown up in a society that told me it was my duty to get married and have children – implicitly if not explicitly – I was determined to do the exact opposite. And in a society where girls are portrayed as “needy” and “clingy” when they develop feelings after sex, I wanted anything but to fall in love with the people I had sex with.
I wanted to be the kind of girl who could fuck without feelings, the kind of girl who didn’t want to be in love.
As you can probably tell, when I first sang along to Get Some‘s lyrics, I hadn’t figured out my ethical slutness. I was also (and still am) working through a fuck-ton of internalised misogyny. Whether or not it was true, if you’d asked me what my stance on sex and relationships was at that point, I’d have told you that ‘I don’t want to have a partner, I just want to have lots of friends who I fuck.’ Today I’m not even sure I believed what I told myself was what I honestly wanted.
I don’t, I don’t wanna wait no more
Let’s do it on the kitchen floor
Discovering polyamory helped, as I discovered that dating doesn’t have to come down to an in-a-relationship-or-not binary. Even though I’d started reading sex blogs, I hadn’t quite realised that non-monogamy was A Thing that real people did. I was even further from working out that it was a thing I wanted to try. Polyamory means I could, hypothetically, have a girlfriend and a friend-with-benefits who beats me until I bruise and then lets me suck his cock and a cute human I make out with when we’re in the same place. And – as much as I’m uncertain that my time management or mental health will ever allow for that – I can be in varying degrees of ‘in love’ with each of them.
Admittedly, the version of past-me who is walking along a dark street at night, singing Get Some lyrics to herself because it makes her feel fearless, wasn’t entirely wrong. Solo poly means that my primary partner is myself, after all. I wasn’t completely off track with the ‘friends who I fuck’ bit either, I was just expressing it in the wrong way: when I said I wanted to fuck my friends, I meant that I didn’t want to fuck strangers, people with whom I didn’t have a connection and I didn’t feel safe around.
I am allowed to be a picky slut, with what some might call ridiculously high standards for her partners. I’m also allowed to enjoy the closeness that sex with people I trust brings. What I know now is that it’s not wrong to want that intimacy, and I can still call myself a feminist while taking pleasure in ending excellent sex with sleepy spooning under a blanket.
We can go back to your place
I swear I’ll be gone in the morning
I absolutely can get up and leave your flat in the morning, but it will be because I have a train to catch, a class to attend, or the next adventure to chase, rather than the fact I don’t want to see you. I love lazy mornings in bed with people I’ve had sex with, especially if they include co-blowing a delightful dick before eating sweet, sticky pastries. Even if it’s just a few minutes of conversation while you boil the kettle for tea while I hunt round your living room for my bra, I like reconnecting with the people I’ve fucked. I like connecting with them, full stop.
Sex can absolutely be a learning experience; it doesn’t has to be perfect. In fact in my experience the sex that is messy and involves lube, flatulence and sometimes tears is often the best kind. I like fucking people I can honestly and openly communicate with, and above all people who I can have fun with.
Today, I want to want casual sex. I’m just not sure I’ve mastered that skill yet, and I think that’s ok. I’m not “weak” because I sometimes end up with feelings for the people I fuck. I definitely want to work on guarding my heart more closely, but it’s also ok to only have sex with people who I feel safe around. It doesn’t make me a “bad feminist” to want hot chocolate and a quick discussion of the sex after we’ve finished fucking, any more than I’m a “bad queer” for having sex with men. I’m allowed to ask that partners respect my needs in the same way they respect my hard limits, and those needs include aftercare – even after the most vanilla of fucks – and maybe even a follow up message a few days later.
I don’t, I don’t need no candlelight
You just need to fuck me right
I do want candlelight. Except not candlelight itself, because that’s just impractical and I’ll end up wondering if we’re going to set the house on fire while we fuck. There are other things though: I love people showing they care about me in non-traditional ways. Buying new restraints and testing them out on me, checking in to make sure I’m comfortable while telling me if I struggle you’ll have to make them tighter? Sure. Pissing on me when it’s not a huge kink of yours? Absolutely. Making me laugh? Yes, yes, yes.
I don’t need love or romance, or at least not with every partner, but I do want care and affection and friendship. As much as I write about rough fucks and consensual non-consent play, I need cuddles and kisses and warmth too. I don’t need to be swept off my feet by every partner I fuck, but I still want intimacy and aftercare. This is down to me, to be as vocal in expressing these needs as I am when someone is eating out my wet cunt – which is hard when I’m admitting to something society tells me that I should want.
Today I’m no longer determined not to want roses and chocolates – though if you do want to show me you love me or care about me, a couple of heartfelt words will mean more anything else. I’m slowly learning to trust the part of myself that it’s ok to want a connection with the person I’m fucking. I think that leaves me at a place where I may not want candlelight itself, but I haven’t quite worked out how to do casual sex.
It also leaves me asking whether I can expect the intimacy I want from a friend-with-benefits, but let’s leave that topic for a different post, shall we?
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.