Sunday, March 31, 2019

On Double-Dicks and Enlightened Pussy

Last year I had my first couple three ways. I avoided them until I was 35, partially because I have historically battled with unsexy levels of romantic jealousy. 

I learned jealousy from my mama, as one often does. But it's  carved such a deep pothole in my brain because society teaches women to compete so they don't do the opposite: support each other and overthrow the patriarchy. And instead of competing for leadership roles or innovation or President, they're taught to compete for something entirely useless: the approval of men.  

Because of this I have this groove carved into my brain that says: you can't be different and equal, somebody has to have the better under-boob, wit, eyeliner, taste in post-punk. 

After a month-long Dan Savage binge left me high on revolutionary sexuality, I convinced myself that a three-way might be the perfect exposure therapy. 

The thought of sex with a man and another woman made gave me premonitions of running naked from my bedroom with tears of defeat and worthlessness running down my face. So I decided I would go for the safer option: me and two guys -- and two guys who are also into each other.

You haven't lived until you've seen some man-on-man dick-sucking while you're sitting on one of their faces. Highly recommend. 

After happily bopping my way through three or four of these, the totally expected happened: the two guys got so into each other that I was mostly ignored. I had a HOW DARE YOU moment followed by my body image doing a swan dive into a dumpster. 

As predicted, I tearfully exited the room endowed with the ancient and painful truth: 


As I digested this experience, I realized that the Universe had just schooled me on a very basic concept in an embarrassingly 2+2=4 kind of way. The only reason dude #1 went for dude #2 instead of me was that he preferred dick over pussy. There was no advanced calculation of my worth or attractiveness against anyone else in the room. No score sheet, no bonus points for good hair. Dude #1 preferred dude #2's anatomy over mine. Not wonderful three-way etiquette, but also 0 commentary on my worth or attractiveness. 

What has this done for my dating life since? It used to be that if I told a man I get jealous or I let it slip through some clumsy fear explosion, yucky things would happen like having the Sartre novel I lent him hurled at my abdomen while I'm ugly crying in the middle of a New York City sidewalk. 

The irony in these reactions is that we're taught by the patriarchal establishment to compete for men but then, when jealousy oozes out as a natural byproduct of that education, the same men reject us and tell us we're crazy and broken. 

I still haven't had a three-way with another woman. But I did just start seeing/ hanging out with a pretty awesome woman. I broke down in tears the other night because I was having  familiar jealous rumblings and I thought if I dared to, you know, OPENLY COMMUNICATE to her about it, she would give me the run-o-the-mill "crazy bitch" treatment.

Instead she just said, duh, she understood, and also that I didn't even scare her. 

I'm not going to pave neatly over the jealousy groove in my mind any time soon, but I've been gifted two realizations to start: 1) a human different from me is not "better" and 2) I'm not broken. 

Thanks double-dicks and one special vagina.