“I should vote for them,” I replied.
“Yeah, sorry, they can’t spend decades calling the male orgasm the end of sex and then say it’s not the end of sex anymore.”
“It’s too late for me,” I said. “My entire sexuality is built around what men want.”
Of course, I’m not serious, but it got me thinking. what do i want I slept with this guy not too long ago and I remember the second or third time we slept together he asked, “What do you want?”
I was up there, looking at him, and I remember trying to hide. Trying to answer his question was like trying to describe a color I had never seen before. I’m tongue-tied. So I said, “What do you want?” And he repeated it to me, and it felt like playing that stupid game the Chuckle Brothers used to play, “To me, to you,” over and over again.
On my phone, I have a screenshot of the opening quote from Tracy Clark-Flory’s Want Me . This is the work of director Miranda Jolie and I keep it in my favorite folder because it resonates so much. It read: “I’m always interested to hear how women see themselves as sexual beings, because there’s really no map of that. When we imagine sex, we are rarely ourselves, but someone else entirely, because it is too shameful to be us. Most of us have some kind of compliment quirk—you feel good when someone tells you you’re good at something—presumably because the focus is on other people’s happiness. We are so objectified that we like to be inanimate objects, or think about being watched, being followed. Our libido slips through the gaps, into the spaces in between, and clings.