I’ve conquered a lot of fears in the past few years, or at least attempted to. Hell, life with an anxiety disorder is basically just a long process of battling fears, like walking through a brambly underbrush with a machete in each hand. In 2015 I upped my blowjob game and delved into threesomes; in 2016 I fucked on camera and navigated casual sex; and last year I explored polyamory more deeply and got better at tactful rejection. That’s a whole lotta scary things, and I’m proud of myself!
Here are two things I’d previously feared, that I managed to face head-on in 2018…
Long-distance relationships
I swore, when I was younger, that I would never fuck with an LDR. “I need a lot of attention and physical affection,” I reasoned, “and that just isn’t practical if the person lives far away.” What I had neglected to plan for, however, is that sometimes you fall in love with a geographically distant person even if you had planned not to – and that distance does not have to preclude the exchange of attention and affection.
Knowing full well about the hurdles long-distance couples face, my partner and I approached our relationship with thoughtfulness and intentionality. We built systems and routines that helped bolster our burgeoning intimacy: good-morning texts, near-nightly phone conversations, FaceTime calls whenever convenient, selfies and tweets and emails. We crafted a sex life from sexting and phone sex (more on that in a sec) that feels as real, enjoyable, and important to me as any in-person sexual connection I’ve ever had. We made it clear to each other, day by day by day, that we are committed to making this relationship work and making it last. We look for new ways to do that all the time.
We’re also deeply privileged to live not terribly far from each other – a 90-minute flight or an ~11-hour bus ride – and to be able to afford to see each other about once a month. It’s funny: when we first started dating, we agreed that 2 months was about the maximum amount of time we’d ever want to go without seeing each other, but we’ve never actually waited that long. The longest we’ve spent apart at a time is about 5 weeks, but we average around 3 weeks between each visit. Sometimes it’s hard, but it’s always doable.
Ultimately I’ve come to realize that long-distance relationships – if they’re as conscientiously intimate as this one – may actually be better suited to how my brain works than local ones, in some ways. I’m an easily-overwhelmed introvert, so being able to talk to my partner while pajama-clad in my bed at the end of the day is often preferable to, say, going out for drinks or schlepping my stuff to someone’s house in the cold. When a local partner is too busy to see me for a while, my anxious brain takes it as a personal affront – but somehow it still feels like a treat every time my long-distance partner spends time with me over the phone. Our in-person visits give me something to look forward to, like a life preserver to cling onto when I feel depressed, and also give me motivation to deep-clean my room at least once a month. It’s pretty ideal, actually.
I’m not saying long-distance relationships are something I’ll continue to look for in the future – it’s my hope that they’ll be a rare exception in my life, rather than a commonplace thing – but I’m not nearly as put off by the prospect of them as I used to be. And that’s nice, because it means more opportunities for love, sex, kink, and joy are open to me now, all around the world.
Phone sex
Another thing I thought I’d never like! Weird.
When I was a teen, my beloved friend-with-benefits would sometimes call me up and read erotic Harry Potter fanfiction to me over the phone. If I got turned on enough, occasionally I would touch myself while she breathed these fanciful words into my ear. I liked listening to her struggle to get through each sentence while straining to hear the changes in my breathing, the slide of skin against wet skin.
That was my only experience resembling phone sex, until about 9 years later, when a prospective sugar daddy emailed me asking if he could pay me for the pleasure of my company over the phone. The price was right and he was charming as hell, so we fell into a pay-to-play arrangement that culminated in a couple nights of him whispering filthy things to me while I moaned and purred and held a vibe on my clit.
I had always imagined that phone sex would require an equal give-and-take, a 50:50 exchange of dirty words and ideas back and forth, and indeed, I’m sure that this is how it works for many people. But I am a bottom, and a sub, and I go pretty nonverbal when subspace kicks in, so I knew I wouldn’t be well-suited to talk someone to orgasm. What I had overlooked, though, is that lots of tops and doms prefer to be the person driving the action, not only in person but over the phone too. That’s what my sugar daddy was into, and when I started dating my current boyfriend, I discovered that he was into it, too. He calls himself a “phone-sex top”: someone who says most of the shit and is more than happy to do so. It’s my reactions he gets off on: my moans, my squeals, my subspacily slurred responses to his questions. In this regard (and several others), we are perfectly well-matched.
It’s funny how I went from abhorring the idea of phone sex to it being easily 80% (or more) of my sex life this year. It’s a near-daily routine for us now, and as such, we’ve developed our own patterns, techniques, tropes and styles within our phone play, which you can read about in the interview series we did about it. Just like in-person sex with a consistent partner, our phone sex gets better and better the more that we learn about each other, and strives for a balance between reliable old favorites and exciting new explorations. It makes me so happy and doesn’t feel, at all, like a consolation prize for the “real thing.” Phone sex with my partner is real, deep, romantic, exciting, and a wonderful comfort.
What fears did you overcome this year?