I'm horny (horny, horny, horny).

Okie, im just gonna let my brain finish singing that song for a second hehe.

As the years have gone on, I’ve slowly started to realise and accept that I am just always gonna be a little bit of a horny devil. Because I’ve been horny for a pretty long time and from a pretty young age too, and I just didn’t know how much of a role it would play in my life. The ever-changing influence within me it would have as I explored it; the joy, shame, freedom and empowerment that would come from it.

My first encounter with the feeling was in year 6 when I first read Twilight. I would read the same lines and paragraphs over and over until they lost their power over my belly. That dip and dive feeling, like you’re about to jump off a cliff. That tightening within you, buried under soft layers beneath your belly button. I remember the first time I felt it, like wtf is that? *re-reads lines* omg that feels good. It was the fanny flutters. And in the book all he’s probably doing is leaning in to kiss her, or touching her leg or some real vanilla shit. But my vagina definitely perked up and started paying attention – like yknow in that Big Mouth episode with the vagina and she pokes her head out all like “oh hey hi hello what was that? can we order more pls?” yeh that was me when I was 12. From then on I loved that feeling, craved that feeling. I started reading all the cute little teenage fiction romantic smut books (for my girls who if u know u know: vampire academy, shiver, city of bones, house of night, violet eden series, fallen, graceling – ugh I’m drooling just thinking about their male leads). But as you can probably tell, books were my first stepping stone on my way here; they were my first taste of desire, of need and want. At first I didn’t even realise what I was feeling was actually called being horny, I thought I was just being a deviant little cheeky kid, getting lost in romance novels and falling love with boys in different worlds; feeling their hands on my body as I lay between my sheets in the middle of the night. And I think my mum kinda knew why I liked it so much, cause she herself reads old lady smut and has one series hat over 30 books dedicated to it (I’ve read it, it’s 10x better than 50 shades of grey).

The next moment that really highlighted my unusually, but definitely enjoyably, high sex drive was when I was hornier than my first boyfriend. Cause like, aren’t boys always meant to be fuck boys, aren’t they meant to be the horny ones? Alas, that was not the case with me. But we were both young and horny teenagers, we stayed up late talking nearly every night and as the relationship progressed over time, I subtly directed these late-night talks to more and more promiscuous discussions. It got to a point, where we would dirty talk every night before bed, and I would fall asleep rolling in that feeling, melting into it. Then one night he said no…. I was like sorri u what?!??! umm no that’s not how this works ???? u make me wet and then I go to bed. I might send a couple nudes and tell u what I’m gonna do to you and then we sleep?! So yeh that was a bit of a shock to the system, definitely felt like a rejection at the time but I bounced back into it the next day and all was well again. Even within the whole idea of this, is that I started exploring sexuality early. At the age of 15 I was already learning how to dirty talk to a boy fluently. I was getting comfortable with masturbating and sending nudes, with seeing my naked body in the mirror and using it seductively. I still remember having friends ask me how to do it, how to take nudes or what to say. I can remember giggling with them and explaining it all, as they blushed and shied away. Going so far as to having an in-depth discussion about circumcision with one of my closest and innocent friends when she first got a boyfriend, sitting in my bed when we were teenagers and talking about boys. She asked me all the questions about how they worked and where to put her hands – I even gave a full hand-gestures included demonstration of how to give a blowjob. I guess I was always destined for this role.

When shit really hit the fan though, was when my parents caught me and my first boy dirty talking when they read my messages. Dad had logged into the computer and I was still logged in, so he went through our conversations and was not impressed with what he found to say the least. Serves him right though, he never should’ve gone through my chats in the first place (he also did it again later down the track when I was single and definitely using my sexuality in a dark seductive kinda way - shit hit the fan big time again). And if you’re a parent and you suspect your child is dirty talking, or sending nudes or deep diving into her sexuality, and you don’t like or are uncomfortable with it, just have an open, honest discussion about it – do NOT invade their privacy in that way. Don’t read her messages, don’t look in her diary; a girl needs her space when she goes through puberty and adolescence, she needs your acceptance and respect. Not your judgement. Not your shame. Not your squeamishness around women’s sexuality but your comfortability in a man’s. Because guys can fuck around and be sluts when they’re young, but women get judged for it; their parents give them the stern talking-to instead and are warned not to be the “school’s bike”. Ouch. Don’t get me wrong though, my parents were great with sex. I knew what it was physically from like the age of 3 when my dad had a vasectomy, and they always flirted and made-out in the kitchen so I knew what it was emotionally as well. It’s just when I decided I actually wanted to dip my toes in the water that my dad got uncomfortable. And I get it, I was still his little baby girl. But we’ve definitely smashed that uncomfortable identity and relationship patterning out the park. Now I’m just his baby girl daughter that is a human that can be kinda wild sometimes, and talks back and likes sex and boys (how he didn’t know I would grow up to be exactly that I’ll never know –I think he was too scared of it happening to even think about it). I’m deviating though – more on daddy-daughter relationships another day!

As the years went by, I explored the feeling of desire, sexuality, sensuality and intimacy further without even knowing it. I had all sorts of encounters with guys after I had lost my virginity. It opened the doors for me to explore, and yeh sometimes it didn’t always end that well, but there was definitely some magical moments. I’ve had back of the car fucks, down an alleyway after way too much drinking at cheek fucks (don’t recommend those fucks), boy doesn’t even know what he’s doing fucks. I’ve had boys ghost me and roast me, guys who have used me because I didn’t require too much work or effort, I was ‘easy’. It was rare for boys to encounter a girl with a sex drive and quite often they didn't know what to do with that, so they labeled me instead, a bitch or a slut, either one worked. I still have guys get shocked when I tell them girls get horny too. I mean I was easy, but I just wanted sex too, and in a way I was using them as well – I just didn’t know how to do it right. I leaked my sexual energy and sexuality onto everything and everyone. I didn’t care who I hurt because I was horny. Because I was going to get with the guy, even if I didn’t really wanna get with the guy, I just had to prove to myself that I could, just for that confirmation of affection, the validation. But I wasn’t really wanting that affection, I wasn’t horny for one night stands or meaningless sex. I mean I definitely tried to make it work, but I would walk away after just being fucked and at best feel yummy after-sex achy but still horny, and at worst used and abused. Because I was just being fucked, sex was just being performed on me not with me; I had let myself become a fuck thing for boys. They saw me as something that they did, they saw sex as something that was done to a woman, not with a woman. And that’s not totally their fault, because I definitely portrayed myself in that way, put myself out there like that. I thought that was what I wanted, I thought sex would make me feel validated and wanted and needed and loved. When I was a teenager, I thought that would work, that letting boys fuck me would make me feel wanted. I didn’t realise that I needed more, that I craved more, that I wanted to be made love to not just fucked, that I needed intimacy not just sexuality. There were moments and glimpses though, of boyfriends who hit it right, where the sex was magical and had ecstasy laced between the sheets and running within my veins. There were moments where my body would have waves and ripples of electricity running over me, through orgasms that were created from nothing but fingers running over my stomach and teasing my nipples. That is the range of horny that I have experienced. From unfulfilling, mind-numbing, staring at the ceiling like “why am I here letting this guy fuck me” moments, to mind-altering states of connection, from complete and utter mindlessness because I am being all consumed by my body and by my pleasure.

And that kinda helps me explain where I am at now. Because I’ve realised that I’ve been single for over two years now and during that whole time I’ve pretty much been horny. I’ve been kind of sleeping around (but nothing compared to my old days), I mean probably having had sex maybe 15 times during the whole period. That is unheard of for me! That is almost saint-like for me. So you might think that maybe I’ve been horny because I haven’t been getting laid as much, but even after a mutually beneficial experience, I’m still left wanting. And it’s been depleting. Because in every sexual encounter there’s been something missing - that spark, that feeling, that satisfaction of a missing puzzle piece fitting into place. One friend said that it’s probably because my heart is horny. And she’s totally right too – my heart is what wants fucking, I need someone that can fuck me body AND soul. That can leave me rippling with energy down to my toes. That can fuck me with just a look and leave me wet without even touching me. I know it’s possible too, because I’ve had it before and I want it again. Nothing else hits the spot now that I’ve had all consuming love. I’m always left horny and wanting more because I can’t be satisfyingly fucked by a guy that can’t meet me there, that can’t push me to my limits and be there with me, that can’t let himself feel that much connection without shying. Because I’m over just a quick fuck, I’m bored with meaningless friend-with-benefits type sex, even if they have been intense and orgasmic; they’ve still been just fucking. I want wild, ferocious love, I want look me in my eyes and watch me as an orgasm rolls over me, hold me as you feel it move over my body, touch me as I shiver and shake and my fingers tear at the sheets. See me as my eyes start to open and I smirk because it was you who did this to me, to my body; your power and your emotion that overwhelmed inside of me and had me collapsing under you. Look at me and see the power that you hold over my body and my soul, I want to be yours and I want to be able to give myself to you, to let you have your way with me.

But I goddamn haven’t even caught a glimpse of a man with that has that much power to be able to stand so close to my shine and not get burnt by it, to not run away from the sheer ferocity of my flame, of my desire. Hell I can barely even do it myself…… because well I can’t exactly choke myself now can I? Well, I mean I can. And I’ve tried. But it just doesn’t feel the same. That’s where I’m at, at the moment; this is what I’m moving through. Because even though I’m a sexologist, I still have this shit come up for me. I still have periods of time where I can’t get myself off because I’m not the one, because I can’t stare at myself in the eyes and fuck my soul. Periods where I’m left feeling unsatisfied by nearly all my sexual encounters because for some reason I have that many needs, and desires that are never-endingly deep that even I can’t satisfy all of them. Because I admit it, I do want someone - it doesn’t mean I need them, or need a man, but damn do I want one. Because at the moment when I masturbate, I can still feel that something is missing. I still don’t have that spark, that connection. Because ultimately I want to be devoured. It’s that feeling of someone else’s body pushing you into the bed, those spine tingles you get when you can feel someone’s eyes on you. It’s that electricity and sexual tension in the air that I’m craving. That game of cat-and-mouse, that playful energy, that balance between surrendering and dominating, it’s the banter and the tease. Maybe I’m missing something, maybe I still need to cultivate more of a connection with myself, who knows. All I know is that when I wank, it’s a release; it’s a 30-second over and done with, rock through my body kinda orgasm. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun and it’s needed but it’s not what I’m really horny for; again I’m still left wanting, if at least a little bit satisfied and a bit less grumpy. But I want more. I’m horny for more; I’m horny for someone else’s hands on my body. A someone who I know exists but I haven’t met yet; who when they look at me I get the same feeling I did when I was 13 and reading twilight. Where from just a single touch I can feel my belly tighten and give out underneath me, where my breathe starts hitching and my body starts tensing, wound up tight like a coil and ready to spring. Where I can feel my own wetness creeping between my thighs and my fingers strain to touch him. Where it’s not just an itch that’s being scratched or a half-assed one night stand, not something that leaves me unsatisfied. But someone that I run to, something I’m excited by. Where being with him is like ecstasy, where every inch of my skin craves to be touched by him. Where my whole body wants to take him, and be taken by him. Because I haven’t had the feeling of craving to be with someone in a very long time; I mean I’ve craved sex, and I’ve had an itch that’s needed to be scratched, a physical bodily need. But I haven’t emotionally craved someone, I haven’t wanted to be with that someone, wanted him and only him, and wanted him bad. And I’ll know when I meet him, because as soon as our eyes meet, my belly will tighten, my body will respond and we’ll look at each other with lust laced behind our eyes and I’ll be like “oh hey it’s you”.