In two whole days I turn 47. I can’t say that I ever considered what 47 would look like, had I done that I positive that I would never have pictured this. I didn’t realize ‘this’ existed until I woke up here.

I woke this morning thinking about sex. Well that is not a surprise, I think about sex a lot actually. What is a bit of a raised eyebrow this morning is that sex is easy. Well, easy is a relative term no?

The act of sex is not easy actually. It can be a complex series of moves that can end in ‘failure’. Sex with me is even not easy. I mean I am pretty easy, I get to yes quickly. My default is actually yes, we just get to no quickly because people talk themselves out of ass. I also talk myself out of yes. I have toyed with that in my head for bit because of my current circumstance. I like a girl, and another girl, and a boy and another boy. I spend a fair amount of time reminding myself that I don’t have to make any choices, and that today might not be the day I have to settle down. The choices though. Me and fucking choices.

I don’t lead with my vagina, she’s got a lot of input though. I often identify that ‘person’ I am most interested in by her. The thing is that person doesn’t even have to be a person that I want to have sex with. It’s a matter of they inspire something in me that I don’t often see. I want to keep seeing it and it typically manifests in me having sexual urges, even if I am not going to fuck that particular person. It elevates parts of me and I seek it aggressively. I pursue it relentlessly and it can be consuming.

I can hear the click of the pen and the writing on the paper of the therapists, my inner clinician is doing the same thing, its how I am sitting here typing instead of sleeping in my day one of vacation.

What its telling me in this moment is that I have need. That need is not intercourse. I mean I DO need some intercourse right now, this 30 days of abstinence feels like I am going to explode at the moment. That in and of itself is eyebrow raising. Historically I am the girl who when you put me on restriction it kills my sex drive not enhances it. You put me on restriction and then I show up at the end of it dry as hell and you’re scratching your head wondering how to turn the faucet back on.

The thing here though? He didn’t ask me to wait. We were just discussing things like we do, and I offered. I absolutely asked myself what the fuck were you thinking in the hours after the conversation, but I stopped and thought about it and I’m okay with it. The why behind the offer was to offer something that I thought would be pleasing and he accepted and that acceptance was what I wanted more than to randomly fuck. Even when I am butt naked in the dungeon with a man on top of me salivating at the idea of what he’s whispering in my ear at the moment, it was more important to keep my word. I did. I will. Temptation is gonna be on fleek the next 48 hours [do the kids still say fleek? Although if I have to ask that question….]

I know good and well that I am capable of being Hurricane Aphrodite this weekend and running through that hotel and dungeon and leaving all that I encounter in dust wondering if they are going to recover. I can produce that kind of energy. I am hungry in ways that I rarely hunger. I’d wake up Sunday morning though and pack for my trip and feel empty. I’d feel dishonest. And I’d see him waiting for me at the station and it would ruin all that we’ve planned. It would ruin all that we could be and in a month or six I would feel even emptier.

Sex is easy. What I am building right now? Historically for me not as easy. Truth telling — it is intimidating as hell. Seeking the connection I used to avoid. Below is approximately 46 years of real time footage of me avoiding close interpersonal connections that last:

I’ve been damn good at it.

It’s time to be good at something different though.

If I am being honest, and that’s what I plan to be always moving forward I went to bed last night wondering what the fuck. I started doing some mental math and gymnastics and almost went to sleep with the doubt and confusion which I’ve carried for three decades. My last remembered thought was fuck all that. I turned on my nightly recording, and I smiled and thought about all that I was thankful for last night. I fell asleep listing those things and I woke up – possibly awakened by – a message answering one of the unsolved problems. I hadn’t said anything out loud to anyone, but the universe heard me and plopped that response on my lap.

I can almost see her standing there asking when you gonna stop fighting and believe bitch?

Now seems like a good moment. And 10 minutes from now. And 10 years from now. I’ve put in some work in the back room and it’s time to take that work out to these Baltimore and beyond streets. I am excited and hopeful. I get to see things I haven’t seen even if I’ve seen all of these people in all their nakedness for a decade or so now.

I think back to a ballroom in Laurel MD, abou 6 or seven years ago. There was a girl there who walked out of her hotel room terrified, but skipped around that room in her plaid skirt with her Black cat and laughed and sang and danced and got her ass beat with glow sticks, sat on laps inappropriately, played with a puppy and just existed. She colored and bounced on a huge bear. She flirted and crawled. She didn’t stay, but the time the sun started to rise, she was met with too many memories of too many painful things, but she existed then. She exists now.

Her toes are tapping to The Lox as she types and smiles and wonders if she is bringing her electric shaver to the dungeon to find someone to make her clean before she gives herself to someone on Sunday.

And she just decided that she would 🙂

In a few days my first check is getting mailed here. It’s gonna be the first of many. There are lots of firsts of many ahead of me and sex still isn’t easy.

It’s good though. I’m going to have some.

Not until Sunday though.

Aphrodite Brown