"Look at her! Totally shameless! That's disgusting! What a cheap, slutty whore! There should be a law..."
That's the message we have had brain-washed into us from the day we were born. Women should not want sex. Ideally they should just close their eyes, think of England, and submit to their husband's baser urges. Of course with no-one to teach these poor husbands, they were rather inept lovers, so it wasn't difficult to suppress any good feelings. Oh, sure, some people do seem to still like sex, ('Look, just like honeymooners... ') and it's Ok to giggle about it, but you wouldn't ever give in to any baser urges...
And then there are those very few of us who, for some reason or another, have rejected that paternalistic religious power trip.
In my case, it happened on a trip to Jamaica, on my honeymoon. Luckily, towards the end of the honeymoon, after my husband had broken my hymen, then squirted inside me, then collapsed asleep beside me. He did this once every night for the first week, then every second night for the second week, always in the same position, dripping sweat onto me while I was thinking;
"Damn, I was kind of hoping sex would be at least as much fun as playing with myself ... I guess they were right, it really isn't that much of a big deal..."
And then, four nights before we were due to fly back home, I was kidnapped.
Hubby was really excited about this deep-sea fishing trip, in spite of the fact that I had told him I get deathly sea sick on small boats. But he really wanted to go, so I told him to go ahead and I'd spend the day shopping, which he was glad to escape also.
Walking up and down the streets in the market, I began to notice that I seemed to be attracting men's eyes. Black men. At first I thought they were really rather rude, eying me up so frankly like that. But I could see that they were friendly, not being aggressive, just enjoying the sight of an attractive woman. And making her feel that way, I realized, with a little start. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed being attractive, with a trim, well-shaped body.
Compared to Barbie dolls, I had always considered myself rather unattractive, with shoulder-length brown hair, average color, average body, just another married woman, now. But I was deeply thrilled to be considered genuinely attractive. God, I almost stopped and curtsied, when one man I was walking towards moved forward a little, looking me up and down with the biggest smile I ever saw, and spreading his arms wide, said;
"Wowee! Lookit you, Momma! You is mighty fine! Yes indeedy! And I love how yer eyes shine. I think I'm in love wit' you, Momma! Do me a favor, girl? Turn around, I just gotta see if that booty matches the rest of ya...
Ah, Honey, you is so gawdamn cute when you is blushin' like dat. Now I really IS in love wit you!"
His arm came up, and circled as if we were dancing;
"C'mon, Honey, jus' one cute little twirl. Whaddya say? Pretty please?"
Well, he was not threatening in any way, he was just wanting to have fun. There was nothing wrong with that. So I reached up and took his hand, looked him in the eyes smiling, and did a slow, sensual, full turn, hips shifting, shoulders twisting, and came back around to face this big thing straining inside the leg of his shorts, his arms now spread wide, huge grin.
"Come and sit down, girl. Come and tell me about yourself. How does such a beautiful young girl come to be walking around by herself in the market?"
He waved me to a seat at a sidewalk cafe, right out there in public, and we had a coffee. I was ready for a break, and something to eat, and we talked.