MY STORY, PART NINE (summary): Could it be?

Polyamoury, hypersomnia, representation and the freedom of exploration, expression and individuality.

I don't think I've ever written extensively about my sleeping problems, or rather awake-problems in my blog before, have I? Well, considering what I'm going to say, maybe it's about time that I do.

I've had trouble staying awake since years back, and though I'm not sure when my need of sleep started to increase and go beyond the "normal" limit I began noticing my troubles at around age 16 (2009). Every evening after school, me and my dad would watch crime series together, and every evening I would fall asleep. Of course I didn't admit it. "No, I didn't, I was just blinking" was my usual response in his attempts to wake me up. I guess I blamed it on school; after all I had just begun Upper Secondary school where grades actually mattered. I did not relate my problems to my first romantic (and monoamorous) relationship which I had entered a few months earlier.

During my first year out of three, school went fine. My (still monoamorous) relationships with my first two boyfriends - not so much. I felt like something was missing, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and it didn't make sense because one of my biggest dreams was having great relationships - and yet there was something boring and imprisoning about them.  In school sometimes I would fall asleep during lessons and other times I overslept. Not because I had stayed up all night, on the contrary I got an average of 8 hours of sleep a night, but since it didn't affect my grades I just thought "We'll... it'll pass." The only issue was - it didn't pass.

For my readers convenience I'll say that I entered my third, almost monoamorous relationship at the same time I began my second year in Upper Secondary school. I say almost monoamorous because this was a very experimental relationship in every way; long distance, great age-gap and above all I sometimes with my partners' consent engaged in cybersex with strangers. Apart from the long distance constricting intimacy our relationship was free and I got the chance to explore, but meanwhile it was great I had to hide it because of the age-gap. Yet after about six months together my parents found out about us, called us sick and twisted, forced us to say goodbye and grounded me for a couple of months. This at the age of no less than 17. During these months however, I was still tired in the early mornings and certain classes.

For some reason, when one relationship came to its end, another began and in the beginning of my second semester of my second year me and Fredrik fell in love. Our relationship was great, and we didn't have to endure distance between eachother. Being completely serious and hopefully everlasting - our relationship had no room for "extramartial" exploring, and considering I had grown up among norms and dreams about "the one" I set my fantasies aside. After all, sex was only sex, right? Just something extra fun, and there are more important things, right?.. As far as I was aware, there was no other lifestyle represented than monoamoury.

During my third and last year me and Fredrik moved in together. We were serious about each other so of course we wanted to get our own apartment. Our relationship was great! My sleepig problems however, they took a turn for the worse. I do not exaggerate when I say that I (the morings I didn't oversleep) came to school at 8:15, fell asleep over the desk at 8:30 and slept the whole day through with the exceptions of changing classrooms, eating lunch and performing in tests and more physical activities. The evenings were fine as long as I didn't have to read books. Things were remarkably wierd, and so I went to the school doctor as well as my local hospital to ask for help. However, as neither had any ideas what in earth could make me so tired, and considering my grades were still great - there wasn't much to do about it.

And so it continued; after my graduation I studied tradtional art for a year and slept through that as well, and thereafter I slept through my Law studies at the University of Gothenburg. (Yes i managed to get accepted with my grades only, despite sleeping through school) All the while me and my boyfriend Fredrik led a still quite happy life together. Apart from a few problems regarding our sexlife everything was fine.

Soon it came to an end. Not my sleeping problems or our relationship, but my law studies. I got caught in a depression in November of 2013 and while recovering I could more or less put my finger on what caused it; the strangling culture of my fellow "superior, feasting and bragging" upper class students. No matter how interesting I found my lectures to be, I just couldn't picture myself being a part of "The elite"... the terrible, horrible elite. Particularily not in combination with a nine-to-five (or seven-to-twelve?)-life. My valuable spare time, personality and artistic freedom would be compromised.

After six months I had feelings again. After eight I got off my antidepressants. But my dreams of working myself to death - they were gone. So was also my love for Fredrik (or atleast hidden), my sexdrive, and my igorance about modern society, with all the propaganda it includes. What was still there, although less troublesome, was my excessive need for sleep. Luckily for me the doctors treating my depression had taken my sleep seriously and I kept my hopes up of being diagnosed and cured within the near future.

Earlier mentioned sexual problems, along with my changed view on society brought on by the depression, and some minor differences of opinions eventually split my relationship in half. After almost four years together me and Fredrik broke up in late 2014. Still having no occupation, I could spend my time as single meeting strangers, sleeping 11 hours a night and building up a new, steady ground of hopes and dreams for myself. Yet something about dissatisfaction in relationships were still present - even as single. In retrospect I'm not sure I noticed it any longer; this feeling of imprisonment was just part of life since age 16, but even so - it shone through in the shape of what I think americans would call "sexual dysfunction",.. that and unhappiness.

After a spring of sexual adventures, some great but most boring (I've written quite extensively about why that is so in previous articles), I decided that maybe I hadn't choosed the wrong guy after all and during the summer of 2015 me and Fredrik decided to try  our love once more. We worked through most of our troubles, alone and with help from friends and professionals but still I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something, missing out on my own life.

What did I do? The only clue or feeling I had about "it" was that it was sexual, but I had to find out exactly what "it" was, because it was hurting my libido severely. Skipping the pill didn't help (although I will never use them again) neither did improving our relationship help as much as I'd hoped, but after half a year of soulsearching and writing a 19 pages long document about my sexual history - I found out what "it" was and on the 5th of July 2016 I told myself "I'm apparently polyamorous."

Reexamining my summer I can still remember the feeling of clarity washing over me as I realised why I had felt imprisoned in my monoamorous relationships, without ever knowing it, without ever thinking of the word "monogamy" as something that wasn't obvious for me to engage in. And now, sitting awake 04:26 in the morning on a Wednesday, one might wonder what this all has to do with the sleeping problems I wrote about in the beginning of this text. But that's just the point; Im not sleeping. I'm sitting 04:30 in the morning, fully creative, writing an article about my "so it seems-soultion."

See, ever since I re-defined my sexual orientation/relationship orientation from an unreflected "monoamorous" to the well though of "Polyamorous",.. ever since I started seeing my former FWB, and for every brave step my boyfriend, Fredrik has taken to open up our relationship and letting me explore my needs, ever since I got acceted to Cultural Studies at the University in August - I've felt less and less tired.

A few days ago I was mad about the doctors once again telling me, after three years of research, that no cause to my sleeping problems can be found. I am still sad about it; about the loss of time, possible postponent of creating a family, loss of energy to go out with friends etc, and of course I am afraid that this period of engergy and more or less normative sleep cycles is just a shortlived craze or coincidence with my newfound freedom, but writing it all down, just as I did when figuring out my orientation - writing down in all my anger about the doctors' decision, the history of my sleeping patterns, relationships, reoccuring nightmares, depression etc, in yet another 12 page-document about myself; can it be any less apparent?

Of course I could be wrong. Maybe I'll find myself sleeping with my forehead across the textbook again next month. Maybe I'm just temporarily infatuated by my encounters with my FWB, or what the poly folks would call NRE, but right now I strongly believe that My decisions of changing my life course from the modern dream of economic freedom, Law-studying, and monoamorous relationships to a dream of sexual, romatic, artistic and individual freedom as well as the freedom of time is my cure. Maybe it wasn't as odd as if first might seem, that the Bohemians of France chose the life they did. With this newfound additional insight as a background I have made the decision to write about representation and distinction in this week's exam. Maybe an upbringing of those topics might be able to save others the way I wish it had saved me.

Good morning, sleep tight.

MY STORY, PART EIGHT: Follow Up

It was much easier being brainwashed into thinking I was monoamorous, than it is transitioning into a polyamorous lifestyle. Sure, living in a “false” seuxuality creates problems, but at least you don’t know how to solve them, and as long as you don’t there’s really not much to worry about. You accept life, thinking “This is just how it is.” and persuade yourself that these problems are normal, that a lot of people are going through the same troubles you are, because they’re the same, right? Normal. A word so misused, yet sometimes I fall for it. Sure, apparently it is “normal” to live with the troubles I had, but they’re usually “solved” through infidelity or break-ups. Either that or you live through them, alive but not living. I may sure have heard of “free love” or even polyamory while growing up, but what does that help if they’re displayed as improper and most of all in an unrelatable environment, and so I ended up in a mono relationship with a person that I now cannot see myself leaving. It’s not easy being polyamorous. It’s not hard, it’s just that it’s not accepted, and I don’t have a personal problem with it not being accepted in society, that’s more of a political problem for me, my own main problem is that it’s not accepted in my own life. It’s beginning to get accepted, but I’m afraid I’ll one day hear a “Here but no further” or another “If you want to sleep with other people we’re breaking up.”

What’s the result of all this? What’s the result of my hope in my relationship, my belief that I can pull off “having the cake and eat it” in lack of a better, fairer expression? The cultural clash, so to call it, happening between me and my boyfriend is mirrored in myself. One day I’m absent minded, happy or even overjoyed over the fact that I’m, after all, making progress. For each week or so I’m getting closer to my goal and freedom, yet it’s incredibly frustrating and at times even heartbreaking that I’ll have to go through even more waiting, as if eight years wasn’t enough - before I can feel free.

One day I might be absent minded, I might forget getting off the tram because my mind is filled with wonderful memories that reflect how I’d like my life to be. Other days I might lay in the bathtub, crying, because I know that in reality my (romantic)life is far from what I’d wish. Unfortunately I’m not alone in this. There are others to take into consideration even for my own sake, and I can only hope that no one gets hurt while I’m trying to respect everyone - including myself.

MY STORY, PART SEVEN: Endless Waiting

So, yeah, the topic "myself" seems to be very interesting right now, for me. I am aware of that. But like with most blogs, they're a reflection of what's going on inside the authors head. Live with it.

I've written mostly positive stuff about my now poly-introduced life. And while most is good, it feels extremely frustrating right now. A frustration which I seem to share, in some extent with my friend. 

It's been no more than a week since I last wrote about how wonderful things were going, and it's true, we still make progress, but I guess it's not as fast as I need, although it's faster than I'd ever dared to hope.

When I first "came out" so to say, to my boyfriend I had no real expectations, and during the last month I've been happily surprised about how fast he's opened up to the idea of letting me open up.

He's seen and felt my change, seen me more alive than usual. He's recieved more love these weeks than what's been common for us for the past three years or so, and he knows all this is procreated from my re-labeling of my sexuality, from my meetings with my friend and from reducing rules, not increasing them.

I guess we've stepped back in time for the time being. I quote myself:

"When my lust, my libido, was curbed because "it's wrong to want any kind of sexual activity with others than your boyfriend", my body took that as a clear sign to suppress this lust as a whole. Because how could my body differentiate people from people? A vicious circle had begun."

Today I can relate to this again. Today I feel like more harm than good is done, like all I do is just waiting. I wait for my boyfriend, which makes my friend wait for me, which in turn slow things down, as he's not comfortable with contacting me being surrounded by all these rules. But how can my boyfriend ever "get used to" me seeing my friend if I'm never away?

I'm sure this text is written much more for my sake than anything else. It's not poltical, it's just wallowing in heartache. It's probably unorganised and confusing for the outside world.

"Coming out" or coming out will never be an easy thing to do if you've led another life beforehand. It will be hard but worth it, difficult yet easy, accepted yet met with fear and doubt. And it has one thing in common with this article: only you will know what it's all about.

MY STORY, PART SIX: Revisit

Long did I suspect that freedom of feelings and unconditional friendships would improve my well being, as well as my relationship with my boyfriend. However, I seem to have underestimated the effect.

Although many boundaries still exist, we've opened up our relatonship enough for me to feel content and alive. Tough I am still not allowed to engage in any sexual activities outside of our relationship, our modest but steady alterations present a seemingly free future. With this outlook I am allowed hopefullness.

It's been eight moths since I started researching myself, three months since I concluded my polyamoros nature and presented it to my boyfriend, yet for the first two months after this realisation no real change was made. Time stood still, much thanks to my boyfried. My restlessness grew alongside his fear of change until 25 days ago when we broke into a calm quarrel, resulting in the decision that I am allowed to meet a special friend of mine.

It may seem obvious that I would be allowed to befriend whoever I'd like, go for a walk with whoever I'd like, or have a cup of tea with ditto. But in this case it's never been that simple, simply because our friendship never began as such. The friend I am talking about is one I've mentioned in previous texts - my former FWB/fuckbuddy.

During our rendezvous nothing but music, school, or similar interests were exchanged with words or actions. Yet in between lines attraction and suspension of  a more sexual nature were hiding. Simultaneously I worried about my boyfriends well being. "Will he be OK while I'm out with a person who traditionally would be his biggest threat?" Concurrently I worried about this one time to be the only time we're allowed to meet. After all, that was what we agreed on - one meeting.

To my surprise I came home to a very okay and active boyfriend that evening and before long we sat together, laughing in the bathtub and had the most wonderful, joyful and intimate evening in a long time. Paradoxically, I felt like newly in love with my boyfriend, after seeing my friend.

Arguably, this could have been just a coincidence - the joy and my meetup with my friend, but it had the very same effect the second time. After watching a movie in the sofa together with my friend I came home last wednesday to a happy boyfriend who I soon had one of my top five best sexual acts with.

Am I enamoured by my friend? No. Am I in love with him? No. Do I have feelings for him? Undefinable. How does one really distinguish such labels when you separate emotions from sex and broadens the perspective? Where is the line between family, friends and love relationships? You just love them all, sometimes even acquaintances or objects, and the attraction to him is right there.

Does it really matter how I define them? My feelings, whatever they may be don't necessarily have to limit any one of us as none of us want excusiveness.

All in all I've never felt happier or more alive. This series of blog articles started out a year ago as frustration over my missing lust, a bunch of societal problems and the never ending sexual problems with my relationship. Now, all of a sudden I seem to have found a way to solve my problems. A pity though, that I can't change named societal issues... yet.

P.S. I'm not trying to use my friend to imrove my relationship. I geuinely want to see him.

Minor update.

Since my last post some people have asked me how things are going. Thank you for your interest. It's going fine. A bit of arguing at first but my bf is now, since he's gotten a bit more used to things, very supportive. We will take things slow and I won't let myself be imprisoned, that much is clear, but I think we can work this out and come to a solution we are both happy with.

Any tips are of course helpful! Just leave a comment down below or compose an email in the form to the right.

I will answer questions if asked with respect.

MY STORY, PART FIVE: Imprisoned Lust

First off, just to be clear: I'm not "coming out". It's kinda hard to come out of a closet you've never been hiding in. How have I never hid in it? Well, I've just never told anyone that I'm 100% straight and monogamous, because no one has really discussed it or asked me. Usually it works like this: If you don't behave in a "strange" way (we're talking norms here), and you don't tell everyone about your sexual orientation either, then assumingly you are straight.

I've always had this fairytale dream of marrying the perfect man, having one or a couple of kids and living in a big, castle-like house. That dream is no less true now than it was before I labeled my sexual orientation. I still want to marry one man, but the details have changed.

The reason I felt the need to search through my sexuality and label myself at all arose from me and my boyfriends' problems in our relationship. I though it odd that our problems mainly depended on him, as well as other things outside of my control. Was it true that the reason I wasn't happy was because he was selfish or because our sex ed sucked? Yes it was, but not completely.

The first thing I did was going through my sexual history. Starting from childhood, when I first discovered what being a girl meant, researching my teens and first relatioships, my dreams and fantasies - everything leading up to my current relation. What I found was really nothing new. I knew it all already, but never before had I categorized it in such a way.

My friends know that my fantasies about threesomes are no secret. They know I'm sexually attracted to women, just not as much as I am towards men. They know I'm open to temporary encounters as well as lifelong connections. However, they don't know I feel imprisoned in monogamous relationships, because frankly, how could they know when I didn't know?

It turns out I didn't loose my sex drive only because of pills or a bad sexlife. When my lust, my libido, was curbed because "it's wrong to want any kind of sexual activity with others than your boyfriend", my body took that as a clear sign to suppress this lust as a whole. Because how could my body differentiate people from people? A vicious circle had begun.

Equally, when I started seeing other people after we'd broken up, my lust was encouraged. The more I was allowed to feel, even if these sexual feelings were directed to several different people at a time, the more of my lust came back to me. This eventually allowed my love for my ex to come back as well. A virtuous circle was now created.

A couple of months ago I stumbled across an article in a girls magazine about polyamoury. I had just come to the conclusion a week before, that I was not suited for a fully monogamous relationship, but this label was the final piece in my puzzle. Immedieately after I'd read the article, completed the essay about myself and showed everything to my once-again-boyfriend-though-not-officialy, I felt I'd found my way back to the girl I was before my first ever relationship.

Already a year ago I realised I had lost track of her. I really missed her. She could get exited and aroused by the tiniest of fantasies. She loved sex and love and everything to do with it. When she was gone all I could think of was how much I missed her, how much I was missing, how unfair our society is towards those who want to be free etc. And my lust was nowhere to be seen.

Now when we have found the pieces, all we have to do is start building. Now I know our sex ed sucked and what we missed, I know what caused our problems and how to avoid them. I know hormones are not for me. I also know I'm polyamorous, and that I need secondary relations to feel alive and good.

But how exactly does it feel? Amazing. I'm not speaking in metaphors when I say theres a warm sensation in my heart, around my chest. It occured very suddenly after I realized polyamorous was a label for me (and known since before: heteroflexible/bi-curious) It's like I'm in love with no specific person, or with everyone. All at the same time.

It is wonderful to figure this out, and for now I have all I need. This realisation will keep me going for a short while, but our relationship hinders me from being free, long term. It does help to kow what's wrong, because now I know how to solve this problem. I'm just not sure I can. Fredrik, my bf, and I are still exclusive with eatchother, and although our goal is to be together, I don't want to make it official until I know we can make it. Unforturnately he doesn't want me to have any kind of sexual interactions with anyone but him. Unforturnately my "inner godess" (to quote 50 shades) will disappear again if I'm not allowed that freedom. Once again my heart will cool down and my lust will fade.

I can do monogamy without cheating, but not without losing myself.

MY STORY, PART FOUR: Over and over you forget about one thing, and I have no one to talk to.

EDIT:

I DO think that men and women have equal rights to pleasure. The problem I have is not mainly that the men I've been with lack knowledge, but that it isn't taught, anywhere. There are no courses even for adults who wish to learn about what to do. Atleast not many courses. I've read about two, and they were both for couples, not people in general.

I don't say that women know how to do everything properly and men suck. But as a mainly heterosexual (heteroflexible) woman it's quite hard for me to know how men feel about sex, especially when no one wants to talk seriously about it.

The main problem is communication, about sex, in school as well as in society. People are too shy and if I try to tell someonw how I want it in bed, (because the problem isn't that I make my partner guess how I want it done without telling him) The answer I get, if any, is that he doesn't know how to do it, and that I have to be a teacher and wait several months before I can get anyting out of it, and that is if he listens. Many poeple don't.


Feminism is great, done right. I appreciate reading about the fight for equal pay for equal work. There is much talk about that, and about clothing, pink, blue... About rape, consent, affirmative action, freedom of being who you want to be, menstruation, pms, contraceptives, weight, commercials, the patriarchate, etcetera. But I lack something. 

DISSAPOINTMENT Nr. 1

The other day I was looking for a magazine. I wanted some inspiration, suitable for women, couples, men, but with a firm foundation of equality. And it had to be about sex; pleasure, inspiration, tips and tricks.

I felt it would be unnecessary to buy a magazine for young women. Cosmopolitan, SOLO and the others were all the same. "80 sex-questions you never dared to ask" "How to make him interested in you" "Hot short story inside". It seemed new, but it was just repetition. I already knew the "sex fact no one knows" about how the clitoris isn't only 2 cm big. I already knew the "new" technique of cunnilingus, writing the alphabet with your thounge. I had these magazines to thank for this information, sure. But I didn't need reading about them for the fifht time.

Anyway, I wasn't interested in fashion, makeup, or interviews with pop idols, which covered the remaining 85%. I was looking for sex, and sex only.

I continued on to "Tidningskungen" a really big site from which you can subscribe for all kinds of diferent magazines; Donald Duck, football-magazines, sailing-magazines, photography, interior, mental healhth, yoga, 110 magazines about cars and motorsport, 54 magazines about food,  23 gossip magazines, 61 magazines about science and history... and finally I found the category I was looking for "Erotica".

DISSAPOINTMENT Nr. 2

The headline hit me in the face together with the three magazines pictured. "Men's and Erotic Magazines" it said. 

"In our range of Men's magazines you find testosterone-filled inspiration in the form of interesting articles and professional photo essays written for men of all ages. Here you'll find magazines like King, and Cafe delivering the latest in fashion, technology and eroticism. Reading to fit your partner, male friend, or yourself.

If you like erotica that leaves little to the imagination we have magazines like Bizaree and bestsellers that combine eroticism with inspiring articles like Playboy and Penthouse. We have the subscription you need. We have the latest in eroticism's many areas and also offer magazines for those with special interests.

Treat yourself with a subscription with the best of erotica today!"

What was even the difference? Their erotic magazines vs. Men's magazines. I had no idea. The ovely photoshopped and half naked pornstars didn' really apply to me as a heterosexual female.

I continued. I googled. "Erotic magazine women" "sex magazine" "Eroticism women" "Erotica couples". At best I was presented with novels or short stories, but no magazine were to be found.

My conclusion was that they don't exist, atleast not in swedish. I guess it's because women don't read the non existing erotic magazines for women. So now what? I needed something to read, and although I previously had excluded books, because I wanted something more sporadic and easily digestible, they would have to do.

DISSAPOINTMENT Nr. 3

I went into a sex store, a modern one, which advertises itself towards men and women alike. It even changed it's name from Martinshop to Mshop to welcome women. It sounded promising, but it wasn't.They had porn, and lots of it. Mainly the usual stuff. They also had about three books. "50 Shades", "The Big Sex Book - for women who have sex with women", and "Champagneflickan - A swedish stripper tells her story"

The Big Sex Book seemed really good. But I wanted to check what else I could find before deciding. Maybe there was still hope of finding something small and new, suitable for sporadic reading. I went on to the biggest online bookshop I could think of.

I did find a lot of promising books. I have not read them yet, so I can't be sure they fulfilled my wishes, and I'm still mad about the fact that if women want to read magazines about sex they have to choose between men's erotica or womens magazines containing 85% other stuff than sex.

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Why is it, that over and over again, pople forget about one thing: We need to combine feminism with pleasure. And I don't talk about contraceptives, or consent or abortion or menstruation. We already have discussions about those things. I talk about hands on pleasure. Not the things surrounding it.

We can talk about contraceptives, abortion and menstruation all we want (It's great that we do), but without the pleasure part women will never be more than baby-factories or tools.

When was the last time you heard a political discussion about womens pleasure?

When was the last time you heard one about menstruation?

I consider myself relatively young, and my education as somewhat modern. Yet I never had proper sex ed in school, and even though we learned about consent and the reproductive organs, and condoms, and how pornstars all live a terrible life (which isn't always true), we never actually learned to have sex.

In school you are taught about life. You read math to be able to educate yourself further as well as go to the grocery store. You participate in gymnastics class to keep your health. You learn how to vote. My class even learned what happens when you pour water on burning oil - to avoid making that mistake at home. Heck! - We even have domestic science.

So how come we forget about one of our most basic human needs (unless it's part of something related)?

I learned about sex through previously mentioned girls magazines. Neither my parents or my school taught me. And I did so because I had an interest in it. So is it surprising that, when I met my first, or second, or third, or even fourth boyfriend, whom all wanted to get laid but never cared to read about how to do so, I got dissapointed?

There I was, having learned everything I got my hands on, and from masturbation experience - about how to get the most out of it, and I got nothing in return.

The years went by and I exchanged my repetitive magazines for google, short sex stories and politically correct sites like UMO and RFSU. I also tried encouraging my boyfriend to read about sex, to learn about it, but he was happy with sex the way it was. It was just like his porn.

Eventually we broke up, and I was free to sleep with whoever I wanted. So I did, because I felt like doing so.

After being in a relationship for four years you'd have though that society had changed around you, and that the men around you had grown up to be responsible and caring, with an evolved sense of equality even in the bedroom. But oh no. They were as clueless as ever. And just to be clear, I don't mean to say all men are jerks. Most men I've been with do try to satisfy me. They just don't know how, because they have never been educated properly.

Did it turn me on, having to be a teacher every time i wanted to feel something? Anything? Of course not.

Luckily, one of the many people I slept with actually wanted to get better. He was nothing more than a fuckbuddy, but a really good one. Unlike the others, he actually tried to learn something, and he encouraged me to tell him if he needed to change anything. The first time we had sex he managed to give me no less than three clitoral orgasms. The other guys rarely made me experience even one. Apart from this he introduced me to anal - which yet again was a sign of the knowledge he had gathered, whether it was by listening to exes, or reading. And what turned me on the most was his confidence, unlike my previous partners who only managed to turn me off, baceause of their insecurity and cluelessness.

The result was overwhelming. After 90 minutes of heaven on earth I was shaking, quite literally, from endorfins and happiness, to exhaustion and muscle soreness. A smile was covering my face and it was impossible to hide it. And you know what? This partner was the most satisfied of them all.

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Now, many of you know I didn't choose to  stay single, but instead work on my last relationship, and this was the reason I was looking for magazines the other day. 

We had now figured out that what is lacking - is knowledge and confidence. And to give him some boost we thought we'd read a magazine together. Nothing too heavy and demanding. Just something to pick up at random.

But no such magazines are to be found. Because there is no market for women. Clearly women have sex, because there is a market for sex toys, right? Things designed to put in your vagina or stimulate your clitoris.

And you may think sex toy companies are different from other companies, but you are wrong. They, like all others earn money on your dissatisfaction. If you're unable to orgasm on your own, surely their products can help you.

I have nothing against sex toys, and I agree thay can be of great aid, as well as a fun complement in ones sexlife. Those who follow my blog surely know that. But peope tend to see sex toys from two perspectives only: either they're the work of the devil and should be illegal because they ruin the religious foundation on which so many societies are built. Or they are heaven sent, feministic tools with which we can take action in our own hands, and be the sole rulers over our orgasms.

But let me introduce my perspective.

The vibrator was originally a tool designed to treat hysteria among 19th century women. At the time no connection were made between this and sexuality. The vibrator was purely for treatment and not considered a sex toy. Simply speaking - the men who were unable to satisfy their wifes got tired of the "hysteria" smyptoms, and therefore created a machine to do get rid of them, to do the job for them, so that they still didn't need to satisfy women, or change the culture around womens sexuality.

(Note that I am too upset, to take into account that many of the men didn't know better, and were themselves victims of social structures)

For those of you who might or might not tell me that I am a typical, angry,  feminist who just haven't got enough cock - you're completely correct. I have not got enought cock, or fingers, or thounge, because clearly you don't know how to use them.

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What amazes me in today's society is the lack of insight and understanding of our sexual history. But when I try to talk about it, open people up about it, I have no one to talk to. 

When me and my boyfriend, as an attempt to solve our troubles, went to a couples' therapist, one of our main questions were sex. I tried explaining the problems we had, but as soon as I  mentioned a word like "breasts" "cock" or "masturbate" our therapist almost seemed to winch uncomforably. He was, despite his profession, much too shy to talk about what couples do in the bedroom.

Actualy, whenever I try to talk about sex I get one of the following responses:

• A great, positive interest with the sole purpose of making the male listening to me horny.

• An insecure expression and taciturnity.

• Judgmental questions and much commenting on how I am wrong or even slutty to have had 25-ish sex partners, and that I must be really insecure in myself to have reached such a high number.

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I have tried and tried again, and failed and failed again, to make people talk about womens pleasure. And I am sure that the reason I am not living a satisfactory sex life is not due to 1. A troubled past, 2. Having gotten stuck in a bad pattern when choosing partners, 3. Overlooking the "fact" that good sex comes automatically when you love someone, or 4. That I am too young, and it will get better with age and experiencence - If seven active years are not enought, nothing will be. Number 5 is not the answer either: I have not practicesd too little on my own body to know what I like.

Frankly speaking, how much I may write this article to find and answer to my own problems, it's mostly beacuse I think there are more women, and surely men as well, out there feeling the same way as I do. I just don't know about them yet.

So If you would do me just one favour; share this article. It may have been written because I have troubles of my own, but that doesn't mean it's not applicable on society. And maybe, just maybe, a teacher will read this and include some of my information in his or her next sex ed class. There are many teachers out there. I am not asking for the impossible.

P.S. 

Stop "encouraging" women by telling them that it's perfectly normal not to be able to orgasm. I know you are just trying to help, but you're making it sound as if they shouldn't try. All the same - stop telling women who are able to orgasm both once and twice and via a range of pleasure zones that they are lucky or unique. 

- Linnéa Johansson