i love getting sexed the fuck up.
There, i said it. It’s true.
Now, you may not know or experience this, but being a gimp, i’m in many ways expected not to be so into sex or considered sexy because gimps are so often de-sexualized [unless we’re being hypersexualized, which happens too. And a bunch of other things collide when it comes to sex, some of which i wrote about then erased because i can’t quite figure out how to tie it all together… perhaps another post.]
i’m expected to be grateful when sex appears in my life (because who would want to have sex with a gimp?) i’m often expected to say “yes” (because gimps can’t be choosy, you know!) im expected to respond to able-bodied assumptions about my body, to weather able-bodied judgement about the kinds of sex i have and what value it has (because able-bodied folks are the default for every fucking thing). People look at me and imagine (and yes, sometimes actually verbalize to me and/or others) that i couldn’t possibly have great sex, because they’re using able-bodied frameworks to judge it, frameworks which specifically devalue/ignore gimp sex.
And why wouldn’t they? Almost every single representation of sex out there is between presumed able-bodied folks. Even most few and far between representations of [people who are perceived by sighted folks as] disabled folks having sex make sure to cut out assistive devices, downplay the importance or impact of the disabilities in the lives of the folks involved, certainly don’t talk about the details, or focus only on “overcoming” the disabilities.
This is not the framework in which i want to experience sex.
This is not the framework in which i seek connection. And this is not my reality.
i love sex, i love play. i love everything about it. i love the dirt, sweat, complexity, movement, tears, familiarity, sounds, stains, simplicity, cramps, awkwardness, abrasions, injuries, newness, i even love the minefield. i do. i love how deeply it challenges me, how it exposes all my doors, flings open moments (sometimes lifetimes) of hurt and twirls them into fine silk for resting our weary heads and hearts. i love it.
i love how it reminds me that i am here, now, sharing this body with others, being vulnerable, open, hot and curious, together, knowing something incredibly deep about each other, even if only for that moment. i love knowing that the people i’m with now truly perceive me, really get me. i love opening myself up to someone/s, pouring myself out onto their hands, curling up with them and making out like it’s going out of style, fucking anywhere, getting my kink on, getting shitkicked, and being totally present for every part of it. When i’m having sex, i have experiences i’ve never had before, i’m in an energy feedback loop, and can do things i couldn’t otherwise do. When i’m fucking, the sweat, the cum, the cramps and rest stops all make up this swirl of emotion and lust and gorgeousness, and it feels so fricken incredibly mindblowing, connected, sweet, dirty as fuck, liberating, confusing, regenerative, so many things. And it breaks my heart sometimes.
Does that sound like someone who needs able-bodied permission or direction to fuck with abandon?
No? That’s because it’s not. While i do have to navigate a seemingly endless sea of ableism and ableist assumptions when it comes to sex, i have sex on my own terms. It’s not all magical rainbow-farting ponies and butterflies, and i’m ok with that. It’s complicated sometimes, y’know? And i’m ok with that too. Everything’s complicated, yeah? But better to be complicated than erased.