Safety is Sexy AF
I’ve been thinking recently about sex and safety. Not in a “get tested regularly, use protection” kind of safety (although yes, that is very important), but in a more intimate sense.
I think it was maybe the second date/evening with Mapland that I told him he makes me feel incredibly safe.
And he does make me feel safe — woe betide the intruder who tries to break into my house when there’s a 6”2 soldier being my personal radiator, pillow and unofficial bodyguard.
It’s not just physical safety that he offers me, although there is something very, very appealing on a subconscious and instinctual level about having a partner who is physically very strong (and it kind of makes me feel like the most basic feminist to admit just how much that does for me, but that’s probably a deeper conversation for another article).
But there’s also the fact that Mapland is the first lover I’ve had who asked me what I didn’t like in bed.
I’ve been asked plenty of times what I do like, usually in the throes and mostly for brownie points (quick tip — if you’re going to ask the question, actually listen to the answers and then do what you’re asked) but no one has ever asked me before what I don’t want them to do.
And that’s just a bit wild. It’s taken me until the ripe age of 33 to find a lover who very clearly and specifically asked me to share my boundaries so he doesn’t push them, inadvertently cross them, or hurt me in any way.
This is another kind of safety that Mapland gives me, and it’s just amazing to me. And the fact that I find it so extraordinary is also really quite sad, because this should surely be common behaviour?
I am a person who has been sexually assaulted, multiple times by multiple men. I have had my boundaries crossed, torn down, and set on fire on many occasions, and sometimes by people who were supposedly in love with me. And they either didn’t notice, care, or sometimes even remember doing it.
So, for someone to prioritise my enjoyment and my safety from the get go, rather than backtrack after pushing too much is like winning the lottery, unlimited coffee with no caffeinated consequences, 10,000 orgasms, and being given the keys to Belle’s library — all on the same day.
Sometimes my darker voice of self preservation tells me that what I’ve actually done is to give Mapland an annotated diagram of all the ways to really hurt me.
Yes, I have made myself vulnerable. But that’s okay, because my vulnerabilities are safe with him.
Because he asked.
