A Stripper Named Desire

2 min read

The definition of “feeling desired” is a matter of subjective opinion. That being said, it has recently come to my attention that my personal definition of feeling desired is equatable to a stripper’s. Specifically, a stripper in Detroit.

I was not well versed with sex until my late 20’s, when I made a conscious choice to explore. I credit my inability to truly define what it is to feel wanted by a man to my inexperience of all things sex related. Sure, I felt intimacy. Sure, I had sex. Sure, I had orgasms. But for the better part of my 20’s the most dominating fantasy in my daydreams was the following:

I would enter a man’s room and he would be sitting upright on the bed with his back against the headboard. I would slowly remove all my clothes. There would be a bottle of beer on the nightstand. I would climb on top of him and begin to thrust. As I continued he would reach for his bottle of beer and take a swig. He would do nothing but drink beer and watch me work on him. Addition: On boring days at work I would expand the daydream and imagine an ass grab or slap every few sips.

That’s it. That was the fantasy I had for the last decade. Spoiler alert: it never happened. I am aware of the fact that this fantasy had all sorts of “daddy issue” red flags on it. I wanted to be treated improperly. Thoughts of being casually ignored and treated like a whore made me wet. To me, it really didn’t matter how my mind got there, it’s just what I wanted. (For the record, I love my dad and he treats me with the utmost respect.)

Although this fantasy had all sorts of underlying issues, I also knew that it was about as lame a fantasy as you can get. Men would ask me what my greatest fantasy was and I would tell them the beer on the nightstand story. The most common reaction was: “So… you just want me to drink some beer?”

“No.” I would reply. “It’s the way you drink the beer. It’s the way you watch me.” I found it incredibly hard to communicate the feeling I would have from my fantasy.

I continued dating and expanding my sexual experiences. I pursued deeper conversations about the possibilities of threesomes or men who desired voyeur experiences of their wives. I must admit, I had previously been naive about what now seemed like very common fetishes and desires. The more I opened my mind to conversations, the further my fantasies would evolve. Typically, the more your options grow the less satisfied you will become with the standard, or perhaps even with just the idea of one option. In my case, I did not find this to be true. Yes, my fantasies were growing and evolving but they weren’t necessarily growing in intensity or kinkiness. My list of needs was actually simplifying. I was creating a more refined definition of feeling desired.

It wasn’t until my most recent boyfriend that I realized just how simple my definition had become. He had been straying for quite some time. However he was honest with me. If he did mess up, he knew above all else, honesty was the most important thing to me. Discussing thoughts openly was my form of intimacy and we had developed open communication. Discussing post-details of out-of-town bachelor parties was not uncommon for us. It helped us keep the dialogue open. Still despite this, due to his cheating past, I continued to struggle with feelings of being undesired by him.

He phoned me from the car ride home on the Sunday. He told me the bachelor crew had gone to a strip club the night prior and one of the strippers fell for him. Typically, I would roll my eyes at this. But my boyfriend was the type of guy that was very aware of the money grab game.

He told me he received one dance and grabbed her ass a few times. I pictured it. In my mind it became real. I painted the ass grab the way my previous suitor had done to me: with conviction. Something that my current boyfriend was incapable of doing to me. He said after the dance she exchanged social media accounts with him.

It was at that point she leaned in and told him, “I can tell you’re a good guy. You’re different, the way you treat girls.” He asked her why. She replied, “When you grabbed my ass, I felt–”

I cut in, “ — desired.

“Yes. That’s exactly what she said.” He laughed.

I don’t find it difficult to limit my desires. However, now that I know the true feeling of desire, it is as difficult to repeat as it is to forget. This is perhaps the greatest sexual struggle.

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