Promiscuity

“Promiscuity”–Ani DiFranco

“Promiscuity is nothing more than traveling, there’s more than one way to see the world.“
This is precisely how I view sex. It’s a way of experiencing the world, experiencing what it means to be human at the most basic (and base) level. It’s a way of connecting yourself to another person in the most intimate, vulnerable, naked–metaphorically (and literally, of course)–way. At least, good sex is. The kind of sex where you can ask for what you want, where you stretch your boundaries (safely!) to accommodate what the other person wants, where you luxuriate in lingering over your partner’s body. The kind of sex where time stops, outside concerns disappear, and it feels like the earth has swallowed you whole.

Why am I conflating sex with promiscuity, you might be asking. Because Ani is reclaiming the word. Rather than being shameful, dirty, secretive, something only “bad girls” do, non-monogamous sex is awesome! It’s liberating and fun, and it can be safe and profound. Sex doesn’t have to be something “very special that two people who love each other very much” do. (It certainly can be, and if that’s how you like it, good on ya!) It can also be something two people that kind of like each other do. Or something that four people who think the other three are sexy do.

My rules for sex are that it has to be safe, trusting, respectful and consensual. So, for me, one night stands don’t work. Because I can’t trust someone that fast. And I can’t trust that they’ll seek and respect my consent. What it doesn’t mean, though, is that I have to love the person. Or that I have to be in a long-term committed relationship with them. Or that our relationship has to approach monogamy in any way.

“And seeing the world through another’s eyes is like busting the windows in a world of lies and in the end you make up your own mind.“
Seeing your body through another’s eyes is positively transformative. Those bits you were always too shy to bare, fearing they were too big, too small, just not conforming to society’s standards as much as you’d like, he or she might find unbearably sexy. That wobbly belly you’ve never liked may feel perfectly at home quivering under your lover’s touch.

And seeing sex through another’s eyes broadens your horizons. It rewrites your sexual scripts. It might introduce you to things you would never have considered and now can’t live without. It might reduce you to a pile of giggles. It might remind you of the profound beauty of being human.

“How you gonna know what you need, what you like, until you’ve been around the block a few times on that bike?”
Well?

“And promiscuity is research and development, evolution begs embellishment. And baby, you’re a star.“
It is, it does and you are!

“Honesty is the hardest part because honesty is the highest art. And, honestly, I myself just started. And, eureka! I’m less broken hearted.“
Good sex, good relationships and good living require honesty. Honesty with yourself first and foremost. Admitting and honouring what you like, what you don’t like. What you need, what you can’t have. What boundaries can never be breached and what can be gently pushed. This applies to all aspects of life. Sex, love, friendship, career. Then you have to share that honesty with the people in your life. Your lovers, your family, your friends. And it’s hard. It’s hard to be honest with yourself. Especially when it comes to dark stuff, scary stuff, weird stuff. And it’s hard to be honest with others. You’re putting yourself out there, laid bare, hoping they’ll still be there when you’re done.

And it’s entirely true. It’s hard. And it’s an art. And I’m just getting started. This past year has been the most honest, vulnerable, trusting, loving and rewarding year of my life.

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