In the last weeks I have been struck by our hypersexual society. I think I was blind to it before. Of course we see the nudity, the racy jumpsuits and the flirtatious eyes, but the actual level of sex, that we have become to understand as normality, I hadn’t seen so clearly before. Not till the moment I lost my sexual appetite. Before that moment I had walked a similar path as any sexual active youngster. Making out with boys, experimenting with girls and waking up in the arms of [manchmal] beautiful strangers.
The idea of sex has become such an important part of our being that we cannot resent ourselves from it. Every time we enter a bar at night we drift our eyes over the numerous heads to see our naked match, licking off our mental fantasies by eating the sweet texture of oysters, leaving our bodies captive in a constant state of arousal. Today sex has become god.
In a society that worships sex, as in any worshiping cult, the moment you stop admiring you become a pariah, an outsider, a stranger. C’est moi, right now. My oyster and banana licking days have been long gone and naked body parts do nothing to me anymore. Apparently for my surroundings this is a deep tragic situation, I see the gratitude in their eyes of not being in my position and even if they sympathize, I know they bless their days of waking up in a state of erection. Having no sexual appetite is a state that we don’t understand. As what is better in life as sex?
Not participating in the act of sex made me a sexual failure. Like the girl or the boy we see in the movies that hasn’t had sex in a long time or maybe not ever in their lives before—we mark them as sad pathetic failures. We think of them as people that do not live to fullest, are not beautiful enough or are just too socially awkward to be noticed. You are definitely not cool when you’re not having sex. My sweet surroundings gave me two explanations for my losing appetite. I was [1] either asexual or [2] a very big prude. Both are regarded as weird, only with the first category they try to soften the harshness of the condition—by implying that it’s not my fault as I was born this way—but being a prude in a hypersexual society is a big neon letter sign saying: No-Go.
Not having a sex life is actually right now the best sex life I could have. The only annoyance of the situation is the constant justification you have to give to your surroundings. It’s almost easier to just agree with their classification and for the time being, be the asexual of the gesellschaft.
The whole situation has made me wonder about the viability of the sexual freedom concept. Having sex or not having sex should be on the same equilibrium when we discuss the concept. A person’s decision for not having sex could for that individual be as liberating as having sex can be for someone else. Freedom would mean to have a real choice, one that is formed by your own ideas and desires and not one that is purely formed by a societal discourse. A sexually liberated person should be in the position that they can, without being judged, say: “Yes, please” or “No, thank you very much” to sex. Till we have changed this hypersexual vision in society I won’t eat a thing and keep on being the prude rebel of my youth.
by Jeanne Moral
Illustration by Judy Mièl & Lo Pecado
