For women : How to feel comfortable being sexually active
Apr 22, 2023 11:30:53 GMT -5
northstarmom likes this
Post by greatcoastal on Apr 22, 2023 11:30:53 GMT -5
medium.com/modern-women/sex-education-failed-me-but-this-website-bridged-the-gap-20-years-later-6845e484bc92
Sex Education Failed Me, But This Website Bridged The Gap 20 Years Later
This online membership was a bold move on my journey toward self-acceptance
I was nearly 37 years old when I finally shed some of my mental hangups about sex and grew more comfortable in my body.
Undoubtedly, a unique series of events helped me along this journey.
But I also credit OMGYES, a sex education website focused on pleasure for women/people with vulvas, with helping to normalize sex in a way that was surprisingly bold to me, even as a woman in my late 30s.
Like many American kids growing up in the 80s and 90s, my early sex education was nearly non-existent.
While the adults in my life remained mostly silent on the subject, I pieced together my understanding of sex from movies and TV.
My early views about sex were thus shaped by a confusing mix of images of teen moms on 7th Heaven, Kate Winslet’s passion on a doomed ship, the roller coaster scene in Fear, and Dawson’s parents’ constant chatter about their unquenchable sex drives.
A few times in my life, an adult perhaps brushed up against the topic of sex without addressing it directly:
In 5th grade, teachers separated the boys from the girls and scared us about all the weird stuff that was about to happen to our bodies.
In a single lesson in high school health class, taught by a male PE teacher, we learned the names of different forms of contraception and then were told we should proceed with sex the way we should with illegal drugs: nope, don’t even think about it!
After my own father found a condom wrapper in the back of our car (yikes!), my mother asked me to sit down for the world’s most awkward discussion. I responded that the condom wrapper couldn’t possibly be mine. It was from the time I “let a friend use my car.” She never brought it up again.
Needless to say, I was taught very little about the ins and outs of my body or, God forbid, how to have an orgasm.
The opposite of my sex education experience.
Once I became sexually active, I spent a good two decades going through the motions of sex without truly understanding how my body worked.
This changed a bit over time, and I found some sensitive partners who helped me out of this mindset. But even after being in a relationship with my husband for 15 years, I still didn’t feel comfortable with sex the way I wanted to feel.
When our marriage slowly morphed into a roommate relationship, we tried an open marriage. I wanted desperately to break free from the mundane details of married life with kids, and I resolved to approach this sexual experiment with new confidence.
So one night, while plotting this new life for myself, I bought a membership to OMGYES.
I had no idea how groundbreaking this resource was until I explored it myself.
OMGYES is the result of studies of over 20,000 women aged 18–95 on their sexuality. It includes guides to specific sexual techniques — for solo pleasure or couples — and detailed videos of brave, everyday women talking about their preferences and even demonstrating on camera.
It felt shockingly bold to watch a woman demonstrate a pleasure technique on camera in a form of media that had nothing to do with the porn industry.
The techniques are summarized tastefully with words like “edging,” “flexing,” and “layering.” There is a chapter on breath work, one on building pleasure over time, and one on how mental framing affects a sexual experience.
Together, the videos and tutorials are like a users’ guide to a vulva. But they also address the mental aspects of sex in a way that is so refreshing.
What stuck with me the most after exploring these resources was how much the site normalized pleasure.
I had spent years assuming it was more desirable not to ask for what you want during sex.
I also realized I had never felt comfortable sitting among fellow women and talking about details this intimate.
I had never seen another woman talk so elaborately about the ways she received pleasure from her own body, with or without a partner.
And I had definitely never seen a video of a woman pleasuring herself in which she was not objectified for the consumption of men, or a video in which the woman herself did not have a body type that fit the stereotypes of the sex industry.
The women featured in these videos are of all ages, races, body types, and sexualities.
What they’ve done in helping to create this resource is incredibly brave, and their contributions made me feel a sense of camaraderie with them and with all women.
For me, purchasing this membership to OMGYES was partly educational. It filled in some gaps that still existed in my understanding of my own sexuality after the confusing information that had been fed to me since early adolescence.
But it was also a symbolic act of taking back control over my body and my sexuality.
I was a woman in a sexless marriage struggling with my sexual future. It felt bold to spend money on my own sexual education, and to move forward on my journey without the need for a partner to show me the way.
I wish I could have discovered this resource much earlier in my life. In fact, if I had a daughter, I would share these videos with her even before she became sexually active.
Perhaps I will be so subversive as to share them with my sons one day.
Of course, all of us become more knowledgeable about ourselves as we get older. But ideally, understanding how our bodies work sexually shouldn’t be something we haphazardly stumble into as we approach middle age.
If you also feel that sex education failed you in your youth, I urge you to see if this website could be helpful for you too.
Because wouldn’t it be such a simple act of rebellion to take charge of our own understanding of pleasure? Wouldn’t it be bold to do this regardless of our age, relationship status, or what we were taught when we were young?
Sex Education Failed Me, But This Website Bridged The Gap 20 Years Later
This online membership was a bold move on my journey toward self-acceptance
I was nearly 37 years old when I finally shed some of my mental hangups about sex and grew more comfortable in my body.
Undoubtedly, a unique series of events helped me along this journey.
But I also credit OMGYES, a sex education website focused on pleasure for women/people with vulvas, with helping to normalize sex in a way that was surprisingly bold to me, even as a woman in my late 30s.
Like many American kids growing up in the 80s and 90s, my early sex education was nearly non-existent.
While the adults in my life remained mostly silent on the subject, I pieced together my understanding of sex from movies and TV.
My early views about sex were thus shaped by a confusing mix of images of teen moms on 7th Heaven, Kate Winslet’s passion on a doomed ship, the roller coaster scene in Fear, and Dawson’s parents’ constant chatter about their unquenchable sex drives.
A few times in my life, an adult perhaps brushed up against the topic of sex without addressing it directly:
In 5th grade, teachers separated the boys from the girls and scared us about all the weird stuff that was about to happen to our bodies.
In a single lesson in high school health class, taught by a male PE teacher, we learned the names of different forms of contraception and then were told we should proceed with sex the way we should with illegal drugs: nope, don’t even think about it!
After my own father found a condom wrapper in the back of our car (yikes!), my mother asked me to sit down for the world’s most awkward discussion. I responded that the condom wrapper couldn’t possibly be mine. It was from the time I “let a friend use my car.” She never brought it up again.
Needless to say, I was taught very little about the ins and outs of my body or, God forbid, how to have an orgasm.
The opposite of my sex education experience.
Once I became sexually active, I spent a good two decades going through the motions of sex without truly understanding how my body worked.
This changed a bit over time, and I found some sensitive partners who helped me out of this mindset. But even after being in a relationship with my husband for 15 years, I still didn’t feel comfortable with sex the way I wanted to feel.
When our marriage slowly morphed into a roommate relationship, we tried an open marriage. I wanted desperately to break free from the mundane details of married life with kids, and I resolved to approach this sexual experiment with new confidence.
So one night, while plotting this new life for myself, I bought a membership to OMGYES.
I had no idea how groundbreaking this resource was until I explored it myself.
OMGYES is the result of studies of over 20,000 women aged 18–95 on their sexuality. It includes guides to specific sexual techniques — for solo pleasure or couples — and detailed videos of brave, everyday women talking about their preferences and even demonstrating on camera.
It felt shockingly bold to watch a woman demonstrate a pleasure technique on camera in a form of media that had nothing to do with the porn industry.
The techniques are summarized tastefully with words like “edging,” “flexing,” and “layering.” There is a chapter on breath work, one on building pleasure over time, and one on how mental framing affects a sexual experience.
Together, the videos and tutorials are like a users’ guide to a vulva. But they also address the mental aspects of sex in a way that is so refreshing.
What stuck with me the most after exploring these resources was how much the site normalized pleasure.
I had spent years assuming it was more desirable not to ask for what you want during sex.
I also realized I had never felt comfortable sitting among fellow women and talking about details this intimate.
I had never seen another woman talk so elaborately about the ways she received pleasure from her own body, with or without a partner.
And I had definitely never seen a video of a woman pleasuring herself in which she was not objectified for the consumption of men, or a video in which the woman herself did not have a body type that fit the stereotypes of the sex industry.
The women featured in these videos are of all ages, races, body types, and sexualities.
What they’ve done in helping to create this resource is incredibly brave, and their contributions made me feel a sense of camaraderie with them and with all women.
For me, purchasing this membership to OMGYES was partly educational. It filled in some gaps that still existed in my understanding of my own sexuality after the confusing information that had been fed to me since early adolescence.
But it was also a symbolic act of taking back control over my body and my sexuality.
I was a woman in a sexless marriage struggling with my sexual future. It felt bold to spend money on my own sexual education, and to move forward on my journey without the need for a partner to show me the way.
I wish I could have discovered this resource much earlier in my life. In fact, if I had a daughter, I would share these videos with her even before she became sexually active.
Perhaps I will be so subversive as to share them with my sons one day.
Of course, all of us become more knowledgeable about ourselves as we get older. But ideally, understanding how our bodies work sexually shouldn’t be something we haphazardly stumble into as we approach middle age.
If you also feel that sex education failed you in your youth, I urge you to see if this website could be helpful for you too.
Because wouldn’t it be such a simple act of rebellion to take charge of our own understanding of pleasure? Wouldn’t it be bold to do this regardless of our age, relationship status, or what we were taught when we were young?
