Sometimes, I Just Want To Be Wanted For My Body, Not My Brain

My sweet kittens, I have to admit something: Sometimes, I just want to be wanted for my BODY, not for my BRAIN.

I'm not going to waste another day feeling a tiny little morsel of shame about this life truth of mine. Because having the ability to tap into your raw sexuality without your intellect rearing its pesky head is in fact a BLESSING.

I'm super proud to be an unabashedly sexual girl creature. And you should be, too. But I wasn't always this way. It was a long, arduous road to get the place that I'm in now. Nothing life-changing happens overnight.

When I was a young, naive 19-year-old baby dyke, I dated an older woman who could not wrap her brain around the concept that a self-respecting woman sometimes just wants to be a little ~objectified~.

The woman's name was Lee*, and she was a bitter bartender with a unwarranted chip on her shoulder. And while she might have been better at filing her taxes than me, she plummeted on the emotional maturity barometer. There is nothing worse than dating an emotionally-immature-yet-smug older lesbian who attempts to be your dutiful mentor rather than your girlfriend.

This was a typical scene in our relationship: We would be laying on her bed on a weekend morning, the California sun blaring through the curtains of her studio apartment, our bodies sprawled across the queen sized bed. Until I, of course, killed the tender moment with my irrepressible pervy-ness.

"Do you want to f*ck me?" I would ask, like the nice Christian girl that I am.

"Babe, STOP it. I value so much more about you than just sex," she would say, unblinkingly staring into my big crazy eyes, attempting to break down my "steel walls."

"Um, I know. But what does that have to do with me wanting to have sex?"

"Zara," she would sigh, her heavy breath pushing all of the air out of the room, suffocating me and her slew of house plants.

"What?"

"You're just so insecure. You need to realize that you're SO MUCH more than just the way you look."

"But that's not what this is about!" I would cry, bitter and irritated, but still too emotionally unsteady to hold my own against her.

"I just think that because of the way you grew up, you know, surrounded by such beautiful family members and being an actress in this terrible industry ... all that pressure has just made you so insecure."

She would then point an aggressive finger in my face and say: "You need to be sexualized in order to feel validated."

And it shut me and my sexuality right up.

I wish I would've fought back and told her how wrong she was. I wish I could say that I broke up with her and left her and her judgmental words in the dust. But this scene repeated itself until her harsh words were imprinted on my spirit.

Lee made me feel ashamed for being sexy. And the worst part is that I allowed her to make me feel this way. I quickly became embarrassed by my sexual fantasies. I shudder to think that I let someone else make me question such a core part of who I am.

Because in the safety of my fantasy life, I wasn't wanted for my intellect, or my unexpected sweetness, or my witty tweets, or shiny-penny personality, or my impressive creativity, or my innovative style. I was wanted for sex. I was desired for my body. Nothing more. Nothing LESS.

Lee made me feel like it was impossible for me to have primal sexual desires, and that the irrepressible urge to just be wanted for sex made me a victim to the patriarchal agenda.

Well, even if our fantasies are rooted our trauma (which, after a lot of therapy, I know a lot of mine are, but many are not), who says that's such a bad thing anyway? What's wrong with taking an experience that has hurt us and empowering ourselves by reimagining it in a fantasy that we are control of? I think that's incredibly healthy.

And I don't let anyone else tell me what's healthy for me anymore. If it feels good and I'm not hurting anyone, I now do it without apology.

Because you know what I finally learned? I finally learned that I can trust myself. I can trust that I understand the difference between when I'm being used for sex without my consent and when I'm being used for sex because I actually want to be used for sex.

You can be wanted for sex by someone who loves you. Sex and love can be disconnected and connected at the same time. A person can authentically love everything about you -- your intellect, your style, your heart -- yet still in the heat of the moment just want to rip your clothes off. That's my favorite combo.

I covet relationships where I can be fully in love with a woman who respects everything about me, including the fact that sometimes I just want to be wanted for my body. And vice versa. That's real trust if you ask me.

Because it's saying, "I trust that you love me so much that I can let my guard down and just be a sex object in the moment with you." Now that's some powerful love.

* Name has been changed.