Sexual Mythology

Someone once pointed out how talking about even one off encounters with meaningless people i make it sound like fully developed stories with a strong structure, vivid characters and their motivations. More often than not, mine was being in love with someone else and drunk or being bored and feeling charitable.

-I’m an owner of my body and it’s my decision what I choose to use it for. The fact that those decisions are stupid is completely irrelevant!

I don’t really remember the moment 2015 to 2016. I remember opening the bottle of rum around 7pm and finishing it around 9pm.

My mates will never forget that my communication with the world from that point on consisted exclusively  of “I’m a princess”.

My only New Year’s resolutions were to work more, drink more and have more sex.

The next time I went out I was wearing a plastic tiara, borrowed from  my 4 year old sister. To stay in the character and because I really like wearing tiaras.

We ended up on a drive through the countryside, stopped by the most beautiful lake in the world for some mulled wine. We only stayed there for a length of a cigarette. It was -11 degree Celsius.

Back in the car filled with 7 people we began joking about the present, future and past, expecially the times I slept with some mutual acquaintances included.

-Guys, next person to talk about Em’s sex life gets out of the car.

The person to make that ultimatum was My First, not only the driver, but also the owner of that vehicle in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.

The drunken conversation soon got back to the core. He pulled down rapidly and mate the seatbelts chock us all. Silence. Long, uncomfortable silence. Someone finally broke it with a rather obvious comment.

-Have you noticed that the moment we stopped talking about whom she slept with the conversation died?

Every person has a sexual history. A private and confidential mental record of surnames and keeping phone numbers.

Turns out I have a Sexual Mythology instead. My sex life a long time ago became stories, some of them down became glorious fiction pieces, many of them got themselves published here and other sort survived only in a Homer’s “Odyssey” style spoken word.

There are Orgasm Gods, Extremely Blessed Heroes and dirt poor shepherds whose luck change one night. Magical coincidences, arts and dreams feasts turning into little orgies and achieving a feeling with another person and the Universe at the same time.

Stories that no longer exist solely in my memory, that live on. Nothing private nor confidential about it.

And even though I get why people feel like this side of person’s life is meant to be hidden I don’t see it that way. Artists explored and documented many kinds experiences in their work. Emotions, travels or childhood memories. I simply think sex in all it’s grossness and glory is so pleasant to inspire yourself with and write about. Right?

Video: From myths to art to the screen: Eva Green as Venus de Milo in The Dreames.