Survivor Literacy

Adolescent Sexuality- Accepting my own authenticity

I was always pretty gay. Girls are pretty. Boys are pretty. People are pretty and I really like them.

I remember looking at Brooke Shields as a kid and wishing I could both be her and have her. Blue Lagoon was released the year I was born, and I was about ten when I found it on the tv. We didn’t have all the fancy channels and I was very surprised that it was on my TV.

I related to it, and it normalized a lot of my urges and drives. I was aware of feeling sexually attracted to other people at a very young age. Once you’ve felt sexual excitement, arousal, and pleasure, it’s very difficult to just forget what that feels like.

I was also addicted to the feeling of being wanted, desired, thought about. I loved the tension of seduction and anticipation. It was one of the few things I felt like I was actually good at. None of this depended on the gender or sexual construction of the other person.

Men were fun because they were so eager, so I would dish the pleasure out a little at a time. My lady peers were fun because they embodied curiosity, and seduction involved freeing them from the chains that bound their behaviors. It was like giving them the gift of themselves in the exploration.

I didn’t have a lot of sleepovers, but when I did they tended to turn naughty.

Once I was ditching school on a regular basis in high school, I was regularly doing so to have engage in sexual acts. I had tried to make friends in so many other ways. This was the most interesting thing about me.

We played a lot of dare games. We found hiding places in the nearby landscape.

I wasn’t datable, but I was f^@%able.

I didn’t lose my “virginity” until I was 15, and I did so because the pressure from my brother to do more had increased once I became a teenager. He had joined the Navy but would still come home on leave. My time to say “no,” to him was winding down.

So, I secured a willing participant, and an adequate place. I tried to make it not suck, but it was awful. I was unprepared for his girth, and it hurt like hell. I maintained my composure and went back to life like nothing happened.

I had sexual encounters with most of my friends by the time I left high school.

It didn’t stop me from feeling lonely, and it’s not the same as feeling like you belong. It was the best I had at the time, and without this human contact, I don’t think I’d have made it far enough through life to get to the part where I love myself.

May this post be a toast to the sluts like me.

Sex I Can’t Have by Protyus A. Gendher

There’s all this sex that I can’t have 
I mean, think about it, we’re all grown up 
We can have all the nasty, kinky, dirty sex we want 
And there’s just all this sex that we can’t have 

Why is there all this distance between the things we want to be doing, and the things we get to do?  
Not to mention the controversy over whom we do them to 
You’d think your chance would be improved when you’re not picky like me 
Cuz male and female and in-between 
No variation really, that I don’t want to see
No individual model I couldn’t figure out 
Given the chance, I’d leave no doubt 
But there’s still just all this sex that I can’t have 

There are all these rules and hoops and it’s sad 
Because I think we’d all be better served 
If we had the orgasms we really deserve 
Think of how the pharmacies could collapse 
If we were all cumming and leaving their grasp 

Gasping without hesitation 
At the mechanism for regulation 
Of serotonin and dopamine 
And all the body’s finer things 
That feel so good 

But there’s always all this sex that I can’t have 
Destroyed by authority, when a lover power-grabs 
Because in that moment when I’m having fun 
You know… right before he… well you know the one 
Instead of congratulating a job well done 
A yank of the hair and a smack of the bum 
Make me just his bitch, and apparently one who’s dumb 

No longer a matter of skill in a moment 
To bring about ecstatic foment 
But my right to self, taken away 
By some dumbass destroying the play 
But worse when bringing a woman to bed 
And she just hands it over to you instead 
Like, “here let me show you all of the ways 
That I can make myself less today 
And I’ll call it sexy, and think it turns you on” 
And I’m just thinking “where the hell do these people come from?” 

And so, the fear of these moments in bed 
Leave me with a sense of dread 
That stops even the initiation 
Of a light-hearted conversation 
That could lead to a physical destination 
Free from inhibition and reservation  

But rather I shy away, not knowing what I could say 
That would lead to blissful pleasure  
Beyond the confinements of measure 
And yet I stop, what could I say 
To affect the outcome anyway 

Approaching a man, I’m much too forward 
So alternatively, I become a coward 
The moment of meeting, that would empower me 
Sends a different message to him see 
I’m already less because I’m “easy” 
The thought of which really makes me queasy 
Because the result is now, I’m bad 
And there’s all this sex that I can’t have 

Just talking to a girl is already accusation 
Which could lead to confrontation 
Because I assumed that she could be 
Willing to have some fun with me 
Willing to explore and play and be 

Even if she did say yes 
To becoming my playtime guest 
My asking alone is an act of persuasion 
Never underestimating the level of coercion 
Always gauging their possible regret 
For letting you make them slippery when wet 

The second-guessing and burden to carry 
Remove the fun and make me wary 
Because others won’t just bring themselves 
Instead all these behaviors delve 
Into people being unmade 
Making sex the blade 
That takes ourselves away 

So, there’s just all this sex that I can’t have 
And I can’t be the only maverick 
Who thinks that they have skills to share 
With others safely who would dare 

But rather I’m a celibate cad 
Because there’s still all this sex that I can’t have 

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