Sext To Touch

Everyone loves to point their finger at Porn for giving us unrealistic expectations about sex but for me, it was Hollywood.

Every sex scene in movies had the leads having sex in such a passionate way.

Clothes being ripped, penetration within seconds of almost no foreplay, and the women came on cue (which as most women will tell you, is not how it goes). 

That wasn’t the part I blame. That's not the part I am envious of. It was how the woman lead was present enough in the moment to orgasm. 

I was also amazed with how people would have one night stands. How would that even work? My first time with any partner I’ve had was always an out of body experience (not in the fun way).

Sexual abuse in childhood and for multiple years during my late teens left me quite dissociated and disconnected with myself. 

For those who may be unaware, dissociation involves experiencing a disconnection and lack of continuity between thoughts, memories, surroundings and actions. This usually develops as a reaction to trauma of a perpetually threatening environment. The disconnection makes it practically impossible to feel. As if you aren’t present. 

This had nothing to do with the men I was with. Despite the thought of being with them was very arousing, the reality translated to me feeling like it was all being done to someone else. The young me, of course assumed that there was something wrong with me and even had me wonder if this is how sex is supposed to be.

This was until I reconnected with an old acquaintance, and we hit it off instantly over texts. Our casual flirtation progressed steadily and while texting him one night, things began to get a bit hot and heavy. 

As the conversation continued, I experienced, what I can say to be, one of my most gratifying sexual experiences till then. While at the said time, I chalked it out to the connection we shared, I came to realise years later, that this quickly became my preferred form of initiating intimacy.

Ironic, considering that it's generally the physical touch that is the operative part of physical intimacy.

Although over the years I’ve wondered why sexting is so much more gratifying for me as a way of initiating sexual intimacy, its only in hindsight that I can point to what it gives me, that sex in person does not. 

Safety and Control.

While sexual assault is one end of the spectrum of sexual offences, it isn’t the only one. There are far more subtle ones that are often swept under the rug. 

These could include pressuring someone to have sex, the complete disregard of the obvious hesitation, the insistence on not using protection, and the refusal to understand that consent can be withdrawn even amidst the sexual act. 

Unfortunately for me, I’ve met a host of men who have committed these acts without so much as realising the gravity and the repercussions of it.

Where does sexting come in all this? 

Unknowingly, for me, it was about reclaiming control. The ability to withdraw in the second I feel what’s happening isn’t in line with what I want, without worrying about my physical safety.

I couldn’t do away with the dissociation, so I did away with what my mind perceived as “threat”. Once the said “threat” was done away with, the dissociation was suddenly not a looming monster over my sex life. 

Suddenly I could be “normal” and feel intimacy the way it’s meant to be felt.

None of this is to say that it’s a choice between one or the other when it comes to expressing intimacy. 

However, having different facets of consent been violated by different men; some outright and others wilfully ignorant, robs one not just of the ability to trust, but also in the ability to feel safe.

Sexting for me became a cheat code where I have the ability to remain present, despite all my trust issues and dissociation, while also fully revelling in the joy that is sexual intimacy.

Though the healing is in itself a slow process, my personal little cheat code has made sure that this very human emotion and experience of sexual intimacy is not denied to me.

As for the rest, I’m certain that there will be a time when I’m fully present, without the reflexive need to flee, but until then, I’ll take it one text at a time.