Sexy Times- Totally Not Depressing…

It’s not surprising to me that some of the earliest thoughts I remember having had to do with sex. The subject still overwhelmingly circulates through my mind. Of course, I didn’t really know what “sex” meant at the innocent age of 6, so they came in the form of crushes on boys at school, or imagining I was a (strong warrior) princess in danger, needing to be saved by my own, personal prince.  As I got a little older, these thoughts would lead to feelings, which would lead to exploration, which would lead to discovery, but the truth was that the more I “discovered,” the less I understood without proper explanation.

I grew up in a household that didn’t ever talk about sex. I never got the “birds and the bees” conversation, and no talks about “what’s happening to my body.” It wasn’t because my parents were strict or conservative, they just didn’t know how to approach it themselves, and because of their own history of lack of open dialogue, it was bound to be an uncomfortable and messy conversation that was deemed best to avoid. The unbeknownst side effect was that the subject of sex, love and relationships became a secret, and at the core of that secret was shame and embarrassment.

Besides home, school seemed like as good a place as any to acquire this knowledge, but alas, the fear-based 30-minute videos we were exposed to once every 3 to 5 years only made me and my classmates cringe with disgust as terms like “puberty” and “chlamydia” were threatened, with no practical advice that might be relevant to the reality of our lives. In fact, the most I learned about sex in school was when rumors would circulate about my peers in middle school and high school, like “So & So has HAIR on her vagina! EW!” translation: shave my pubic hair; or “So & So gets discharge because she MASTURBATES!” translation: stuff toilet paper in my underwear to hide all evidence that I too masturbated.

Naturally, lack of knowledge and discussion didn’t deter my lust for love. I still pined after boys. I was a late bloomer, so my hormones skyrocketed while my self-esteem plummeted. There was very little time in between my “firsts.” My first kiss wasn’t until 14, which I acquired from a stranger dancing behind me at a club on “Under 18 Night.” I spent the ride home silently crying in the back seat. I had a longer time than most to dream about that moment (the milestone which all of my friends seemed to have surpassed long ago- all with someone they at least knew) and it was basically the opposite of what I had dreamed of. It was a huge letdown. But beyond that, it was a message to my subconscious about how sexual exploration was supposed to go: 1. New sexual experiences weren’t special, 2. New sexual experiences weren’t with people whom I cared about, or who cared about me, and 3. New sexual experiences just happened and I have no real control over them.

Without anyone to talk to or to guide me, there was no one and nothing to combat this narrative that would wind up presenting itself in many sexual encounters to come.  

And thus began an adolescent life that consisted of a TON of head pushing, alcohol, boys who ignored me, boys who had girlfriends, and lying to my parents about where I was and who I was with. In short there were lots of mistakes, but with the exception of a few humiliating experiences and some nasty rumors I was blissfully ignorant about what was going down.

In 2009, after moving to New York City and graduating from American Musical and Dramatic Academy, I started writing a series and developing the character of Charlie, who some have called my alter ego. Over the years, Charlie evolved from a clueless girl, afraid to be herself, to an empowered young woman whose goal was to teach others how to avoid the same mistakes she made. She’s foul-mouthed, spontaneous, with a determined sex—positive attitude.

The show started out as “Brunch On Sundays,” a web-series that I finally had the courage to self-produce back in 2012 in New York City, when web-series were somewhat of a novelty and female-centric content was few and far between. The show wound up getting more attention than I could have dreamed of, and the entire experience bringing it to life was (mostly) magical!

After the move to L.A., it took me some time to gather a team and the resources to continue forward with the series, but finally, Season Two was shot and released. By this time, it was not nearly as impressive to release a web-series. Everybody was doing it, and stories of girls talking about dating and poop were now a hot topic.

But still, I loved the little world I had created, and I always felt like it was just what Hollywood needs… A new, socially correct, sex-positive “Sex and the City.” I decided to move my characters into a new world of half-hour television, and I wrote and re-wrote the pilot script for over 2 years. The show eventually was titled “Sexpert.”

There was one major problem I faced in writing a modern day hit. I had to face how clueless I actually was. Everything I had learned up until that point about the subject of sex, love and relationships was gathered from the infinite number of mistakes that I made over the years which were usually due to lack of knowledge or my crippling insecurities. How many times had I had sex, just to see if the other person thought I was good enough to have sex with? How many times had I had sex just because it was easier than saying I didn’t want to have sex? How many times had I had sex with a person who treated me with disrespect?  Now that sex-positive language and female empowerment were on the rise, my point of view seemed irrelevant.

So, I learned as much as I could. I listened to Dan Savage giving advice about kinks, acceptable sexual behaviors, normal and abnormal happenings, and discovering sexuality. I listened to his callers identify themselves as “cis-gendered female, hetero-flexible 30-something in an ethically non-monogamous relationship.” I listened to my roommate, who was teaching sexual education to teenagers with Planned Parenthood, practice her lessons on me. She discussed power dynamics in a relationship, that consent should be defined as an “enthusiastic yes” (thank god the cat’s out of the bag on that one) and how the definition of sex was dependent on who was having it. 

I was ready to sit down and try again. I was composing a pitch for the series and reviewing it with Forrest and he stated that even we, who are in a sexual relationship, don’t discuss sex as much as we should. That’s when I realized just how difficult it is to go from being passive to be active in taking control over your sex life.

Forrest and I began to discuss kinks at length, and engage in conversations about what turns us on, or as Dan would say, the “what are you into” conversation.

Somewhere along the way of sharing our deepest desires, an observation about my own sexuality came to the forefront that I had previously swallowed and written off as unsubstantial: women are usually involved in… a lot… of my fantasies. Of course, I had discussed this in the past with other straight-ish girlfriend’s of mine, when we both admitted that we watch girl on girl porn. “That doesn’t mean anything, though.” I said confidently. Of course I felt women are more visually stimulating and arousing than men. Who doesn’t?

Oh. Right. Straight women.

I knew I had crushes on women but those roads have always been left untraveled for one reason or another. I had slept with a woman before in New York, but it wasn’t someone I was particularly attracted to, and I felt like I was just going through the motions so I could rightfully identify as “bi-sexual,” without having to actually explore the depth of what that really means. It was a cop out.

As you can imagine, trying to unpack all of this in the midst of my relationship was complicated. I still loved Forrest, I still enjoyed our intimacy, and I still wanted to explore with him. But for as insecure as I have been, I can only imagine how frustrating it is for your partner to be struggling with where they lie on the sexual spectrum.  

Now, here I am in South Florida, away from Forrest and away from any metropolitan cities with a plentiful LGBTQ community. I’ve never felt so far away from knowing what I want. In fact, typically, the thought of having sex with anybody, regardless of gender, tends to send me down an anxiety-ridden spiral.

So here I am, 30 years old and dreaming about marriage, pondering the thought of having kids and… feeling like a goddamn clueless virgin!