Part 2 in Eye of a Hurricane

Question 2. What are your critical inner voices about sex?

Oh, now this is a good question. There is a whole audience of critical voices that erupt whenever my sexuality (or whatever the hell it is) comes into my head. I never see sex as an experience like some people do. I see it as a performance. It’s not about me being vulnerable or showing any sort of affection. Most times, I do it because it’s what’s expected of me. What’s more, I realize that most people only see me as a conquest and not much else. I have a not terrible-looking face and I’m in average shape. I am only overweight by a few pounds according to the BMI index, but that’s another post entirely. I am never sure if the “partner” actually sees me as a person or whether I’m just there as a body. I would like to think that some of them have seen me as a person with a personality and other qualities, but most times I fail to see that in their eyes. So the coach is in my brain and it tells me what to do, the lessons I’ve learned and the tips I’ve read. It’s like I have learned a dance, and I just perform it for the other person that’s there, whoever that is. I don’t consider it anything particularly special, as I’m just making the steps. If I want something else from this dance, well tough shit. I feel like I’m supposed to be not in the ballet but something else. These tightly wound, methodical movements have been drilled into me since I was 15. This is the only dance I know and how to perform.... But over the years, I can say that I have had terrible dance partners and then some good ones. However, our rhythms almost always seemed… off. Like the timing of our songs was not coordinated or perhaps one person was a step ahead of the other at any given point.
I try to deny my own attraction to others by tearing them down in my brain. It will fixate on something and drill that into my head. It’s a defense mechanism to make sure I never fall in love with anyone ever again. But it will sit there and nitpick. What will they say?
“Omg, do you notice the gap in his teeth?”
“Dear Jesus, does she never go to the gym?”
“Maybe if you didn’t eat so many carbs, you could lose that weight you’re lamenting about.”
:Upon seeing something delicious in their hand: “And you wonder why you can’t ‘get in shape’.”
“Well, maybe if he weren’t so damn lazy then maybe he could do something about his diabetes.”
“Lost your foot? Serves you right for eating all that sugar, you slob.”
“It’s not hard to replace pizza with an apple. You just lack willpower.”
My inner voices are fucking mean to others. It’s more than just sarcasm and snark. It sneers and jeers at others who really don’t deserve that kind of treatment as I don’t know their entire story what led them up to this point. I want to divorce myself from these thoughts every time they come up, but as I’m looking at them, these are remnants not of my own. I hear my mother’s voice in much of them. I hear some tones of my father. I remember them both being near obsessed with weight. My mother especially so. I remember limiting my own calories when I was 11. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking I was fat. Was I pudgy? Sure, maybe somewhat, but in old photos I look at, while cringeworthy, I don’t think I was fat. But now I think that maybe I have some inappropriate attitudes about food and how I will use starvation as a coping mechanism when I’m depressed. I’ll think I’m doing a good job, not eating and losing those calories and those extra pounds. I feel proud of myself for not stuffing my face with food because all I hear is my own mother’s voice about her concerns with my being fat. She never overtly said it, but I think it has a lot to do with how I’m attracted to people. Now, my preferred phenotype is so narrow, I call myself a grey-sexual. I know my type, and it’s maybe .004% of the world’s population.
I digress.