It makes sense I need a sex blog–just somewhere to put writing that’s more private.  There’s me in the day, and me at night.

Even if I didn’t have sexual trauma, sex is just weird!  Sex is like a trauma unto itself!  An orgasm is totally overwhelming!  I would have stuff to work out, even if sex was an only happy thing for me, my whole life.  However, it wasn’t.

For almost a year I wanted this blog, mostly to publish the essay Sexually Responsible: How I Invented Ethics and Learned How to Love.  I worked on that essay for a long time.  It’s important, to talk about what teenagers go through, and for me to talk about what I went through–my particular experiences, desires, skills, special needs.

If no one else cares, I care.  I’d write these things just for self-knowledge and discovery, pleasing myself with the descriptions, realizations, connections.  I enjoy the weird memories that arrive like dreams; I uncover details that I totally forgot.

You could call that masturbatory, which is fine–I like masturbating.  It doesn’t work as well for me, over the years, but there’s zero shame in it.

“Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterward.” — Robert Heinlein


Or I could write all this for my spouse–he likes reading it.  I feel very lucky he cares and has friendly curiosity.  One of the things he likes best about me is my writing.

And he’s not jealous–he doesn’t like feeling left out, and he has some old trauma about that.  But he’s happy to see me happy, and he’s the least-jealous person I’ve ever been with.  He’s genuinely glad for me to feel how I feel and do what I need to do; he wants me to grow and change–he’s not afraid of that.

thank you

I guess I wanted to share a meta moment.  Thanks for witnessing me as I am.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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