There’s a guy I like. A guy I haven’t fucked but who I’ve dreamed about fucking. A guy who I’ve wanked over but who I don’t really know. A guy who I want to know, because I wanted to be his friend years ago and I still want to be his friend now – it’s just that now I want to be his friend and suck his dick. But I’m not always honest when I text him, because it’s way easier to send him nudes than be vulnerable or (god forbid) needy.
Content note for suicide, self-hatred and internalised misogyny.
I text him too much, but I can’t seem to bring myself to stop. I type ‘I’m walking past the Starbucks where we had coffee and maaaybe thinking about your dick’. The words aren’t a lie, but it’s easier to think about his dick than think about everything else. It’s easier to pretend, in that moment, that I’m not nauseated and exhausted and want to cry. And besides, if I pretend to be ok then I might forget how fucked up I am.
I’m struggling right now. I feel shit all the time, and honestly I’m not sure how long I can keep going when I feel this bad. I’ve felt like this for so long that I now feel like I have to apologise for talking about my mental illness again. There’s only so many times I can type ‘I feel shit’ until I’m boring myself, so I worry that I’m boring everyone else too. And I struggle to believe that people genuinely want to hear how shit I feel yet again, so I stop myself from reaching out.
I find it easier to believe that people want to see my nudes.
I’ve sent nudes while crying. I’ve sent nudes while lying in bed, feeling depressed and gross and too exhausted to even get up to go to the toilet. I’ve convinced myself that sending nudes – or sexts, or flirty messages about how I’m imagining them fucking my face – is more likely to get a response than me just reaching out for support. It’s easier to tell someone I just wanked while thinking about their hands than ask if I can talk about how much I’m struggling.
A text from someone telling me how how good my tits look will make me feel less alone. Even if the person doesn’t know that I feel like shit, sending nudes helps because what I’m craving is connection. When I feel like I’m falling apart, all I want to know is that there are people out there who give a shit about me. Flirting with someone can ground me or give me the energy to actually move and take care of myself. Exchanging nudes will remind me that I’m not worthless, no matter what my mind says.
And, of course, sending nudes isn’t needy.
I don’t know when “needy” became the worst thing I could possibly be, but I understand why. As someone who was socialised as female I’ve been taught that – as well as always wanting to fuck me – cis men all want sex without strings and without emotions. I’ve been told that I need to avoid cuddling or being “clingy” after we’ve fucked, because cis men only casual sex. Those things are cisheteronormative bullshit, but that doesn’t mean part of me doesn’t believe them.
Again, it’s embarrassing how much internalised misogyny I still have: do you know why I don’t think sending nudes is needy? I feel that it’s me saying that ‘look, you can fuck me and not worry that I’m going to develop feelings for you’. It’s the complete opposite to me actually sharing my feelings and asking you for support because I feel like shit. Sending nudes isn’t needy, it says that I’m cool and casual and “not like other girls” – especially because I think I might be the first person to send this particular guy nudes.
I haven’t hidden my mental illness from him – everyone I text even semi-frequently knows that I’m depressed right now, and I text him almost every day. (As I said, too much.) But he’s busy and I don’t really believe that he could see any value in talking to me beyond me blowing him one day. Depression lies to you, and when I’m at my lowest I get consumed with self-loathing. When I feel like that I genuinely I don’t understand why someone might think I’m worth more than my tits and my arse and my fuckable cunt.
Sending nudes doesn’t put the weight of my depression on him either. People don’t understand mental illness and it’s hard, when I’m struggling with suicidal ideation so intrusive that I cannot think about anything else, to explain that he doesn’t have to worry about me. Yes, I’m suicidal and yes, I’ve just told him that, but the act itself of asking for help makes me accountable to actually assess what I need to do. If I’m reaching out to someone it’s not because I need them to ‘save’ me.
What I need is for someone to know that I’m struggling, and maybe sit with me while I feel like shit – but asking for that feels like too much.
I know it’s fucked up, the thought that I asking for the help and support I need is too much, that I’m too much. It’s ok to be needy when you’re asking for something you genuinely need, as long as you’re not putting pressure on one person to be everything you need. I know that, but I still don’t want to seem needy because I like this guy and I don’t want to fuck up getting to fuck him.
And I hate myself for having I’ve internalised the idea that being needy isn’t a turn on but I have, so instead I send him nudes.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a freelance journalist, sex writer, and professional transsexual. His work focuses on dismantling shame and queering sex.
really like the shot from the back and showing a little bit of fuzz hanging down between your legs.
Sexy and cool.
What a fabulous arse you have! Great shot.
Missy x
Hmmm…
When I *receive* nudes — which is rare because I have very strict rules within the context of my relationship{s} about who is allowed to send them and when/why, which probably influences my gutcheck response on the topic of neediness — I don’t think, “the sender is not needy.”
I’m not sure I actively think to myself that they ARE needy.
Neither, exactly.
But there is definitely some level of heightened awareness of the other person’s need/desire for attention that comes with that, which may bear fleshing out.
Your post has got me pondering the topic; thank you for sharing.
[ . . . thinking . . . ]
I believe there will be a lot of folks who will nod and agree with your post, Quinn and I think the rawness of it allows the reader to really feel your words. I find it relatable – I think any of us who share nudes anywhere, will experience the feeling of feeling needy. In my opinion, it ties in with the vulnerability of exposing ourselves, bare for the world to see. I also agree sometimes it is easier to just be naked and out there rather than sharing what is under the flesh <3
I can relate to this. I know I have sent nudes to get a response rather than just saying… Hey, I miss you can we talk…. Over the years I have got better at asking for what I need and want with regards to many things but still it is hard. I have been the looker after all my life, it is easy to disappear into that role and it become all you ever do.
Hugs lovely Quinn. I hope you find some respite from the depression… Oh and you have such a peachy bottom
Molly
I totally get this. I will often distract people and myself with images of my arse/tits/cunt when I both need to cheer myself up and deflect them from asking me how I am.
Asking for what we need is hard and sometimes you need that distraction from a brain that hates you.
Image came to my mind:
Sending those nudes out is going into contact. Like a ship sending “this is HMS Quinn. Here am I are you out there”
Which is by its nature first and foremost a communication.
Intentions, assessments, all else is separate and what we make of it.
FOr me it makes utter sense to have such Comm Strategy because it helps you
I really like this way of looking at it – thank you for sharing.