Seven years: The amount of time that passed between my first sexual encounter and my first orgasm.

Seven years:
The amount of time that passed between my first sexual encounter and my first orgasm.

Seven years later, I am still learning how to have sex for myself. Every time I'm intimate with someone, I find myself fighting a losing battle to keep from becoming someone I'm not, someone who squirms and moans and asks for more. I end up performing sex, rather than experiencing it; I become the embodiment of what I imagine is desired of me. I've never come with another person: only alone. I think it's because when I'm with another person, I am not grounded enough in my body to follow that glimmering trail of sensation to its end.

Seven years later, I learn self-pleasure. When I touch myself, I am silent, and focused, and centered. I move slowly and sweetly. I do not ask anything of my body that she does not want to give, and we are kind to each other.

I wish I could go back seven years and teach myself how to do this. If I knew then how good I could make myself feel, I don't think I would have spent seven years becoming a finely tuned instrument for others' pleasure. Now I am practicing for the day when someone comes along who will share in my music.

I am determined that the next seven years will be more playful, more joyful, gentler, sweeter, and better than the last.