Oops I Did It Again

I’m An Asshole and I Know It

The tragic misstep that made me cringeworthy

I was called an asshole yesterday by a friend. I’m not mad. He’s one of my favorites. I asked him to hate me. He obliged with a commitment that astounds and elates me. But I realize that he might not be the only one to think I’m an asshole.

You see, yesterday I wrote a sexy prompt for my fellow Medium peeps and then I tagged people in it. I thought it was all fun and games, but then I got to thinking, did I go too far?

Crap. I didn’t mean to overstep.

I like to talk about sex. I need to talk about it. It’s my therapy. It feeds my journey. My sexual awakening paved the way to me becoming the woman I am today. Without it, I don’t know where I’d be.

But not everyone is comfortable talking about sex. People work in the real world, a world that they do not want to have plastered with their sexy secrets.

I’ve said it before:

The internet is not a safe place for our hopes and dreams.

It may not be a safe place for our sex either.

A few people have done my sexy prompt. I love them for it. They were confident and airy in their responses. With lion-like courage, they opened with a joke or two in their own fabulous voices and then dove right in. Respect, gentlemen.

It must have been hard for them. (Shush you, I’m not making puns right now.)

Some people bowed out right away. Respect, fellow writers.

I wondered why I hadn’t seen more responses and then it hit me:

It may be socially unacceptable or even dangerous to respond. Respect, respect, respect.

Respect to all of you, regardless of how you responded. No one was cruel to me for making the tragic and thoughtless choice to tag people who I hope will remain my friends.

I have the biggest love for all of you.

This does not clear my slate, but I want to answer the question you all might be asking:

Why?

The difficulty I face and the awkwardness I endure are two reasons why I talk about sex when I can.

By being open and honest, by acting as a sexual equal even though the world does not treat me that way yet, I want to make space for women and men to talk about sex honestly and without fear.

Sometimes, like yesterday, I forget how scary it is to be someone who wears her sex on her sleeve.

Often when I’m talking about sex, I get righteously angry. Every time it happens, it is because I hear a voice that tells me I shouldn’t be talking. The same voice tells me that I shouldn’t care and that I don’t get a say.

I am not half of a whole in sex.

I am a whole sexual being, capable of every kind and level of sexual pleasure on my own terms and in my own way.

So I talk about it. My fingers ache to draw others to feel safe beneath my reading eyes. But it’s more than just me and you, and I forgot.

My ache and my anger dress in lingerie. I practice writing honestly about sex and everything else every day. There’s sort of an adrenaline rush about it. I count on that surge to make me forget that the world is still as it is and the topic of sex is not only taboo but feared.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for being an asshole.

To all of you I tagged, I have removed the tags.

I still would love to hear from everyone and anyone who feels safe enough to do so. Here is my sexy prompt:

I know you’re all sexy. And I hope you know it. Big Love.

I’m Brett Jenae Tomlin, The Anxious Enthusiast.

If you love, love, love my writing and want to shout out, “You get it, anxious girl!” You can contribute to my cookbook collection here or join Medium to put your own stamp on the web and the world. I get a little love if you use my link ^^