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Just finished watching the pilot episode of The Masters of Sex and holy hell, this is going to be one of my favorite shows I think. Not to mention the enchanting Lizzy Caplan? JESUS.
But, the main reason I am so excited about this show is because not only is it sexy, but fascinating. I’ve heard of the study before and have always meant to really investigate it further, however, I was a bit busy being a twenty-whatever year old and not committing to anything, lol right?
Fun-and-probably-already-annoyingly-obvious-by-now fact: I love sex.
I didn’t have sex until I was eighteen years old. This is not because I was waiting or wasn’t interested; it just never proposed itself and then it just kind of happened. Suddenly, I was thrust (literally) into this world of naked activities and the ever mysterious orgasm and I was completely on board. You could say that I’ve had a lot of…partners. Up until I was about twenty-two or so, I, for lack of better term, slept around. And I wasn’t ashamed of it and I am still not in any way. I stand firmly behind the notion that women can fuck around as much as they wish, just as men can, and there is nothing wrong with it as long as they are smart and safe. I was not a whore or a dirty slut or any of the other degrading things that society likes to say women are who enjoy sex and enjoy it often.
However, there can be a point where you stop enjoying sex and start just having sex because you can. It loses it’s magic. Suddenly, you don’t know how to validate your existence unless someone else is inside you and if no one wants to be then you’re lost. At twenty-two, I had become lost and sex-obsessed.
This is a common mind-set for early twenty-something year olds and isn’t necessarily new knowledge. But at the time, it was slowly killing me. I could not get comfortable in my own skin; like I was just swimming below the surface of living. When I’d walk into a room, it was as if there was a heavy cloud of smoke and I could barely breathe, let alone find a way out.
I can’t exactly pinpoint when it was that I stopped having consistent partners; stopped having a Monday man, a Tuesday man, Wednesday woman and so on. They weren’t all bad people, but the majority weren’t very good for me. Gradually, I dropped them one by one and suddenly found myself at twenty-three, dating one boy and fucking no one else but him. A lot of fucking; I was and always will be a bit insatiable.
It was bizarre and surprisingly comfortable. He was a little intimidated by my past romantic and sexual life, but I assured him that if I wanted to sleep with someone else, I would have done so already and that he’d be long out of the picture. We dated for about a year and come Christmas 2012, I was single.
I hadn’t been single for five years. It was terrifying.
What was so crazy about it though, was that I did not instantly go out looking for people to sleep with to make myself feel better.
Though, I did invest in some definite quality vibrators.
It’s interesting to see how much I have evolved from sleeping with several people at a time, to maybe one or two here and there and being excited about that fact. I am not embarrassed about the number of people I’ve slept with and I fully believe that a number truly doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you value yourself based on your own opinions and observations. I’ve met many men and women who have slept with only a few people in their lives and they felt more dirty and confused than I did. I’ve met men and women who’ve saved themselves for marriage and are now struggling with learning their bodies and their husbands/wives bodies; saying that they hate sex, that it’s scary and it hurts. This, more than anything, sounds like my nightmare.
I respect everyone’s decision, whatever it may be, which is why when I am asked about sex, I am unabashedly honest. No, I don’t know everything, but as a person who’s read a lot about it, done quite a bit with it and is continually intrigued behind the science of it, I am always happy to discuss it. Sex is a wonderful thing, whether between barely strangers or someone you love so much that you thought you may die until the next second you could touch them came.
I’m excited for this show because it’s going to induce some really interesting conversation and because well, Lizzy Caplan is naked in it.
I’m twenty-four and still an idiot kid. I don’t know statistics or how to budget my finances or how to refurbish a chair. But, I do know how to love someone, how to fuck someone and how to embrace myself for who I am, especially in the darkest of moments and that is perfectly okay with me.
But, I still cannot NOT laugh at the word boner.
See all of Taryn’s MIMP photos HERE, or SUBMIT your own photos, opinions, selfies, whatever you want to share HERE!
As much as I love underwear, underwear doesn’t always love me. Here’s a secret: sometimes I don’t always wear it.
When I found myself in a man’s bed one bright and early Sunday morning, I figured I’d steal a pair of his and toss em on under my leggings as I snuck out the door.
Goddamn, were they comfortable. I was insanely jealous; I didn’t want to take them off, but mens briefs are not the cutest when worn under comfy leggings. And, I gotta have my comfy leggings. So, I compromised. I looked up this MeUndies site and my panty prayers were answered. They had girls underwear too. It truly was a blessed Sunday.
Now, I’m not the type to order something online, forget about it and go on about my life. I memorize my tracking number and plan my day around the shipment date. It’s not that I don’t trust my postal carrier, it’s that I’m a brat and I hate waiting. When my order came, it was like Christmas came early. Come to my butt, you super soft adorable underpants. I think this is one relationship that I can commit to.
Don’t spend the holidays alone, keep your tush warm and happy with your own pair of MeUndies, maybe even some socks? Get cozy this winter here!
These photos are just a tease of a full selfie set Taryn took in her MeUndies, be sure to check out the mini shoot on her app, Texts After Dark, HERE! Rumor has it, she may have lost her shirt somewhere along the way…
I have been 24 officially for 24 hours (I was an afternoon baby).
Everyone has asked me if I feel any different and, I have to say, it feels pretty much the same. I look in the mirror and, my hair, while getting longer, is not greying. My skin is still soft; butt is still enormous.
However, what I am noticing is that I cannot recover quickly from excessive drinking like I did when I turned 23. When I was 23, a bottle of wine was an after work snack. At 24, a tequila shot and three margaritas leaves me dreaming about my bed while pretending to work.
Though, while I am spending my day trying to stay hydrated and chewing on toast, I am smiling to myself because last night I spent my birthday with some of the greatest people I know, and I am looking forward to drinking the night away with them again soon.
But like, maybe not until this weekend okay? This old lady needs a nap.