Communication is the introduction to every fulfilling encounter. I begin our interaction with email because it gives us both a chance to compose our thoughts, without the pressure of time imposed on every word. (Plus, candidly: I’m a Millenial and talking on the phone stresses me out. We don’t call each other unless something is gravely wrong!)
Far from being impersonal, the written word is a reminder of handwritten notes of devotion from days gone by… It’s an important way of getting to know each other and builds the framework of how we’ll communicate when we meet. Our first, digital interactions are a sweet aphrodisiac.
When we meet in the flesh, that communication is renewed. Though we may feel the urge to tear each other’s clothes off, we take a breath, a few moments. We introduce ourselves; it may feel like we already know each other. Maybe it feels like we’re perfect strangers. Both are jolts of excitement. Either way, we’ll have already chatted about some of what will happen… but we aren’t sure how exactly the dice will fall, especially when we’re exploring a new experience.
This is why ongoing communication is so necessary and so sexy among play partners, whether we are well known to each other or experiencing the new buddings of desire.
I want to know how you feel. I want to know what you’re deeply enjoying, what’s pleasant, and what might not be working for you. Everyone is different, and I don’t assume that you’ll enjoy every single thing that we explore. I want to find what drives you. This is why every kind of feedback begets greater intimacy.
My intention is to give you the confidence to communication with me freely, to let me know where you are, how you’re feeling. For me, that’s the greatest pleasure of having another creature with you in your moment of pleasure: we get to talk, laugh, flirt, and tell one another how it’s all feeling.
So, why are we all so quiet? Trust me, it isn’t just you.
I was recently speaking with my cohort Charli Gallo regarding the subject of quiet sex. I said it was a habit I had to unlearn as an adult, and she confirmed my experience. …and how many play parties, orgies, and naked birthday parties have we been to together?! It clearly isn’t a matter of experience that taught us to be so tongue-tied.
I suspect many of us have similar roots in our learned habit of sexual self-censorship.
In our first experiences of masturbation, it is very likely there was someone sharing the room, or close by down the hall. Lacking privacy, we bit pillows, our hands, hid beneath the blankets to find our solitude. As we grew older, we locked ourselves in bathrooms and locker room stalls to find a few peaceful moments of quiet during puberty. Old habits die hard.
If you were raised religious, like I was, or as a woman, like I was, those things add additional layers of shame and the drive to conceal your desire and the pursuit of pleasure to the mix.
I know where I learned to hide my voice.
Summer camp. Funny how our shared fantasies grow from realities. I bunked in a cabin in the woods of Maine with six girls and our counselor. I couldn’t spend six weeks keeping my hands to myself every night, so I learned how to be quiet.
I separated pleasure from sound, touch from expression. It took me me years to begin to unravel this teenage habit.
Now, I take great pleasure in hearing myself gasp, growl, yelp with enjoyment, no less than in telling my partner to move their head or their hand to give me greater pleasure. It turns me on to hear you turned on.
If this is an experience you relate to, know that I don’t expect you to unlearn it on your own.
What I want you to know is my desire to hear from you – in your affect, your sighing, your moaning, the way your body responds. I want to create a space where you can experience your body, our bodies, and the great pleasures we have to offer each other without worry or shame.