Sexual Histories

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve been avoiding telling you all (and by you all I mean: my four loyal readers) that I turned thirty a month and a half ago.

Ugh.

I thought that I would be less anxious about it and more at peace with it, but, I’ll be honest – my 20’s we’re pretty hardcore (yes, in that sense), and meandering into my 30’s without much of a plan or a goal feels a bit feckless – especially on a sexual level.

Having left my 20’s in a blaze of glory, I find that I have arrived in my 30’s as a bit of a wet blanket. I pretty much did everything I set out to do in my 20’s (I mean this in a sexual sense), and now that I’m 30 there’s not much left on the table that is taboo or undone. The bucket list has been checked off. I have no more sexual goals.

This means that on the one hand, there’s a bit of sexual ennui. But I have always struggled with sexual ennui (and its wonderful counterpart, sexual mania) – that’s not the problem.

The problem with being 30 and sexually seasoned is the problem of having a sexual history. When I was still in my 20’s, there was always more to see and more to do. Now that I’m in my 30’s, I’ve done everything that I’ve ever wanted to do, and now – well, now dating is a pretty onerous task.

 

A lot of my peers who are single in their 30s go about dating in a very anxiety-driven manner. Single people in their 30’s are in a weird episode of their sexual journey. Often times, their early long term relationships have failed, or maybe they’re just shitty people. I don’t know – there are a lot of reasons for this.

Or maybe I’m just being judgmental and self conscious. Because, the fact of the matter is: now that we’re all in our 30’s, we’ve all been through the shit by now. We’ve all done some fucked up shit, seen some crazy shit, been different people, had wild experiences. Those experiences have shaped who we are, but we’re also alone.

It’s hard to meet new people and to try to explain why you are the way that you are. It’s hard to start from the beginning and retell all the cringeworthy stories and relive the heart break and put it all on the table. It’s hard to go over thirty years’ worth of misery and/or joy. We all have a sexual history now. And it’s always going to be relevant. It will always be brought up. It will always be a piece of us.

I didn’t think about that when I was in my 20’s. I didn’t think about that when I started this blog. That I’d have to sit down and meet new people and say, “Well, if you read this one thing I wrote about the guy who tried to kill me, then you’d understand why I’m acting so psycho.” (Or, whatever.)

Society hasn’t taught us how to be single for this long. If you’re like me, then society taught you that you had to take the first best person you could find and hope it worked out for the next fifty to sixty years. Nowadays, we can meander from person to person and hope for the best. However, in the interim: the single life.

So maybe we don’t know how to deal with trying to find a life partner later in life. Or, not even a life partner, but at least a partner that will work for right now. Because it’s hard to talk about the past and not feel shame – we have been trained to feel shame about our past lives.

This is my celebration of my ever evolving sexuality, even when I’m 30 in the midst of the fucking Trump era. This shit is definitely evolving, or, perhaps, in some ways: devolving. But it’s still there! And I’m not ashamed.

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