IF SEX IS POWER, THEN WHAT IS THIS?
My body is a temple, or at least that’s what I have been told, and I carelessly set it ablaze by choosing to indulge in the act my mind warned me not to.
I’m sitting on my floor, numb, yet full of pain and despair. I wonder where my medications have gone. I know they are in my body, but why aren’t they saving me from this oblivion I am staring into? Music is playing in the background and I start screaming along with the lyrics, hoping for any form of distraction. What is the reason I’m so deeply intertwined with my intrusive thoughts? It must be because of them, the person I gave myself away to…
* * * * *
I’m sitting on my floor, bored and looking for anything that resembles a cure. It’s a Wednesday night and I should be doing my homework, but I can’t focus on school right now. Instead, my brain longs for stimulation, my heart pleads for a connection, and my entire being yearns for appraisal and attention. I feel a surge of desperation coursing through my body as it compels me to open the app I know I’m supposed to avoid. I look through the grid, hoping to find someone authentic who won’t make me regret my decision to come on here in the first place. After what seems like an eternity, a profile finally captures my interest. Their eyes cut into my soul and I’m instantly attached. I message them with a simple “hi,” and they immediately respond. My heart is racing—they’re into me, and the validation sends a flush throughout my body. Then, as quickly as the feeling comes, it disappears with their next message: “pics?” I should end the conversation here, because I know I’m worth more than this, yet I send them anyway. I’ve reached the point where if I can’t be desired for my being, at least I’m wanted for my body…
After exchanging compliments, I know what they want. I’ve been reduced to an object, or at least that’s how it seems. I reach an impasse in my mind. Should I cut it off here, or do I give them what they want? Foolishly, I gain an Icarus-like confidence and invite them to my room. I wait as patiently as I can for them to arrive, already second-guessing my decision. A wave of nausea comes in full force, and it’s like I’m a speeding car with no brakes, or however the saying goes. I know there is no optimal outcome to the situation, yet I still have a naive hope that this time will be different and that I will not immediately shame myself for what I’m about to do…
I hear the knock on the door, which immediately short-circuits my brain. As it resets, my mind becomes fixated on the person standing before me. I shuffle nervously as they enter my room and observe our surroundings. I do my best to exude confidence, though I know I’m doing a sub-par job. We go through the motions of a conversation, both feigning interest in each other’s lives. I ask how their classes are, and they ask me about my day. Everything is going as smoothly as possible. Then we reach the dreaded impasse of an awkward conversation. We stare at each other and I search their face for any clue about what to do or say next. After an eternity of tense silence, I manage to say, “Would you like to watch a movie on the bed?” An innocent phrase, yet we both know the ulterior motive behind it. As we move, I feel that sickening feeling once more. I’m unable to determine whether this pit in my stomach is warm and exciting or chilling and fearful…
Five minutes. Five minutes is all it takes for the spiral to start. They gently caress my thigh, so innocent yet so devious. Sparks run through my system as my heartbeat turns into a violent, destructive, and beautiful hurricane. I’m so entranced by it that I temporarily forget about the inevitable destruction to come. Before I know it, their lips interlock with mine, and I feel the weight of everything around me. My body convulses with all the memories of the past. I’ve been here before, both mentally and physically. Flash forward a few moments, and our bodies mimic what our lips did before. The pleasure from my body telling me to continue is dueling with my thoughts telling me to stop. Somehow, they both prevail. While this lover is triggering spasms of pleasure, my brain is racing about everything I’m not supposed to think about: my exes, my trauma, my worth. I ignore every single thought and continue, fully believing that this person can solve everything wrong with me…
I’m sitting on my floor, numb, yet full of pain and despair. They left over thirty minutes ago, but I have barely moved. I feel the weight of everything around me, only this time, it is crushing and unbearable. Tears flow like a street during a rainstorm while I choke on my breath. My body is a temple, or at least that’s what I have been told, and I carelessly set it ablaze by choosing to indulge in the act my mind warned me not to. Feeling the aftermath of the destruction makes every part of me raw. This is more than just postcoital clarity; this is a tortuous, unbearable emotion. I’m supposed to feel joyous and empowered, but my heart has shattered yet again, taking my self-worth and respect along with it. Eventually, I pull myself together and paint on a brave face, remembering I have dinner plans with friends. I wish I could say that this story has a happy ending after this, but in truth, there is no end. I am at the mercy of this vicious cycle time and time again, with no escape in sight. I always hope that the next time will be better and that I will not regret giving myself away, but every time is the same as before. Where is the empowerment, the joy, the love I’m supposed to feel? If sex is power, then what is this?
AUTHOR: Trevor Tomlin
ARTIST: Elise Carman is a deer in Providence.