Having Sex In Public, Comfort, and Letting Go of “Should”

I have a long distance partner who I see a couple of times a year and with whom I have a lovely ongoing email correspondence. One feature of this is, perhaps obviously, some sexy messaging. A theme that has emerged repeatedly over the years we’ve been seeing each other is the idea of us getting it on in a public place. Seriously, there have been some incredibly hot messages about this.

You know what we have absolutely never done and I have my doubts about whether we will ever do? Gotten it on in a public place.

So, if I find the messages so hot why have I never taken the plunge on this one? Honestly, I’m a comfort girl. I LOVE my comfort. Yes, my definition of comfort includes paddling, flogging, and being zapped with e-stim equipment so, clearly, it’s a broad definition but it’s comfort nonetheless. For me sexual comfort (like general life comfort) seems to hinge on private spaces with soft places to flop onto when all is said and done. I guess I’d rather spend hours exploring fun things in a cozy private space than grab a frantic couple of minutes in a park bench, photo booth, or public bathroom just to be able to say I did. I’m thinking this may be another place where my love for quiet, comfort, and familiarity make me feel a bit separate from my fellow sexual adventurers.

I look around the internet and see all sorts of articles about sex #goals and sexual bucket lists (a term I actually used differently myself) 20, 50, 100 items long featuring pledges to engage in every imaginable sexual act with in every imaginable configuration everywhere from Miami to London to Perth and remember a time a couple years back when I became fixated on the idea of squirting. I wanted to have that experience, to see what it felt like so I recruited a friend, known for stimulating many to the point of squirting orgasm, and handed him my Pure Wand. What followed was something that was, for me, intense and uncomfortable (just physically, g-spotting is never really my jam). Telling my friend after that I didn’t feel like it really happened for me he pointed out that I had left a spot on the bed and we talked about the mechanics of orgasm, determining that what I had was indeed an orgasm and so the whole thing “counted”. I was left thinking “is that it?”. I felt like I should have enjoyed it more, I should be more excited about it, I should… etc.

For a while I felt this way about a lot of sex stuff. As a professional sex talker shouldn’t I have done ALL the things? Shouldn’t I LOVE the stuff that other people are nervous about? Shouldn’t I constantly be trying to level up? Shouldn’t I be boning on the subway, in a Subway, and with multiple Subway sandwich artists?

This is how I end up anxious because I’m not the life of the (sex) party, I’m not running off to get it on in public, with a vast array of people, trying to achieve a bevy of different kinds of orgasms and checking items off an impressive list of sexual goals. This is how I make sex absolutely no fun for myself.

So, what’s my point here? Adventure is bad and comfort is good? No one should set goals? Public sex is for the birds? No. I actually think this conversation is symptomatic of something else, the pressure I put on myself and I’m sure some of you put on yourselves, to have what we think is the best, most exciting sex at the expense of exploring the sex we will actually enjoy the most. I’m pretty sure I’m far from the only one who occasionally lets that voice that says “you are boring, do it better!” interfere with my sex life. But here’s the question: what adventures am I missing while I’m busy stressing out about not being the life of the (sex) party?

I talked earlier about articles featuring sex goals and a pattern I noticed is that those kinds of articles tend to pop up in mainstream publications. Working with writers who actually focus on sex I’ve seen some very different approaches to sexual goal-setting. I’ve noticed that with sex writers and educators, goals aren’t based in ideas of sexual experiences one should have  but instead they are rooted in curiosity and what sounds pleasurable. Moving forward I want to do more of what I see my colleagues doing in my own life – letting go of “should”, remembering that no one cares if I never have sex on a ski lift, with a rugby team, or in the backseat of a Volkswagen and setting goals based solely on what I (and my partners) want. So, maybe I’ll never have sex in public but I will keep exploring, pursuing what makes me curious, what sounds delightful to me, remembering that comfort can provide the security that allows for adventure.

I’ll wrap this up by telling you how I met the partner from the beginning of this story: We met at a sex party. You know what I did that night? Took him back to a room where we could be alone and comfortable. That probably should have told me something…


This post contains links sponsored by Ninja Photo. The opinions in it are, as always, my own.

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