How Far Are You Willing To Go Between The Sheets?
Relationships are all about compromise, but what about sex? One woman shares how she had to define her boundaries when the love of her life revealed a fantasy she’s not sure she can handle. (Photo: Stephanie Rausser)
“You want me to do whatto you?” I asked my boyfriend, Julian [names and personal details have been changed], trying to sound understanding. It was a month into our relationship, and we were lying in bed, sharing our most private sexual fantasies.
“It’s just… I’ve had this fantasy for a while, and I feel like you might be into it, but I don’t want to freak you out.”
“You can’t freak me out. I’m open to pretty much anything!” I tried to convince him.
Julian looked down at his hands, and his eyebrows huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Apparently, the eyebrows decided it was safe to confide in me. “It’s kinda messed up.”
“Psssh, I’m sure it’s fine.”
He sighed, and then… “I like to wear women’s lingerie.”
All the moisture left my vagina. I was not expecting that at all. I tried to picture my tan, hairy Colombian boyfriend in a lace thong. Nope! No me gusta. “OK,” I said, completely turned off but trying to sound supportive. “Is that it?”
“No.”
There was more. Fantastic.
“I think it would be hot to dress up in women’s lingerie and then have you order me around….”
“Okaaay,” I said, desperately hoping that was the end of it.
“And then spank me.”
Nooo! I put my hands on my face, Home Alone–style. You know that feeling when the man you love tells you he wants you to bend him over your knee and smack his bare bottom? Well, that’s exactly how I felt. I couldn’t believe that Julian wanted to be treated like a Craigslist prostitute. If anyone was going to be the Craigslist prostitute in this relationship, it should be me. I’m the girl! (P.S.: I am aware of how oppressively gender-normative this sounds.)
After I let his confession sink in for a moment, I started to think about my own reaction. Why was I so freaked out? Why was I so convinced I wouldn’t like it? Maybe it would make me feel powerful, like Oprah on a Jet Ski.
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I always thought of myself as open-minded and adventurous in bed. I would never judge what people like to do behind closed doors! So why was this tripping me out? On the one hand, I obviously support experimentation in the bedroom. How else do you discover what you like and keep things fresh? You have to try things! On the other hand, a little voice inside me just said, “Hell freakin’ no.” I was deeply conflicted.
Julian went on to tell me he had actually visited a professional dominatrix before and loved it. She yelled at him while he scrubbed her floors in nothing but a bra and panties. Although I found the scenario totally unsexy, I was intrigued by the cleaning part. Your hottest fantasy is having me insult you while you clean? We should just get married!
After Julian said everything he needed to say, it was my turn to talk. For once in my life, I couldn’t find the words. I was so confused. What did this mean? Was my boyfriend gay? Could I possibly find his bizarre fantasy exciting at some point?
“Maybe we could try it once,” I conceded, with all the enthusiasm of a teenager on a family vacation.
Julian tried, unsuccessfully, to get me excited about it. “I thought you’d be really into this. You’d be such a great dominatrix! You’re so bossy.”
“I’m just bossy. It doesn’t mean I want to spank you.”
For the rest of the day, I could feel his disappointment. Julian thought he had finally found his BDSM mistress. I was sexually open, I had a strong personality, I did adventurous things. I’m down to get weird, and Julian must have thought I was his kinky soul mate!
Julian wasn’t the only one who was disappointed. I was totally in love, and I was desperate to make our relationship work. Julian was funny, smart and stylish. Everything was there except one really, really important thing: sexual compatibility. That’s what makes sex so strange and cosmic. You can never predict who you’re gonna spark with. That hilarious doctor your friend set you up with you were so sure you’d marry? Premature ejaculator. That psycho bartender who dropped out of college and has zero direction in life? Best sex of your life. You can be on the same page as someone in every single way, but if they don’t toast your genital pecans, it’s never gonna work.
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Julian and I fell in love long before we started dating, so when I say I would have done almost anything to have made this relationship work, I mean it. I met him when I was just starting out in my career and looking to make connections in my industry. He happened to be in the same line of work, and my friend suggested I meet him. I emailed Julian and asked if I could take him out for dinner in exchange for some job advice.
The night we met, I sat in the booth at a popular Mexican restaurant and waited for him to show. I was sipping a Corona when in walked a tall, olive-skinned J.Crew model. “Are you Jennifer?”
Oh, snap! This man was cuter than a cat in a costume.
Over sloppy quesadillas and beer, we talked about everything—our dreams, our families, our artistic pursuits. The conversation was fast-paced and passionate; we kept interrupting each other, yelling, “That’s exactly how I feel!” I looked at Julian’s face and saw someone who finally got me. The night twinkled on, and I felt like the ingenue in a black-and-white French film.
Later that evening, I went on Facebook, as you do, to learn everything I could about this fascinating creature. And that’s when I saw his status: in a relationship. He had a girlfriend! I was crushed.
I tried to forget about him, but it was hard because I kept bumping into him at parties. Over time, Julian and I became “friends with tension.” We started hanging out alone, going on long bike rides, having picnics in the park. I lied to myself that it was all totally kosher. We were just two platonic friends who sometimes got lost in each other’s eyes for hours on end. No big deal.
One night we met up at a bar and both started drinking like it was the end of days. After three margaritas, I scrawled a note on a bar napkin and passed it to him: “I ‘like’ like you.” He looked at it and then started writing something back. My heart was racing. He passed it to me: “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you.” I felt electrified and then really sad. I wrote another note: “You have a girlfriend, we can’t do this. Call me when you’re single.” I passed it to him silently and walked out of the bar.
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Months later, I got a text. “It’s over. I’m single.” I was euphoric. It was like Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa all rolled into one. We instantly became a couple. Julian was mine! Those first weeks of our relationship were like some delirious dream. We would just lie in bed for an entire day, staring into each other’s eyes. We were so happy, we’d just start laughing randomly.
As we became closer and started to trust each other more, we both opened up. And that’s when Julian dropped the fetish bomb on me. Our honeymoon phase was officially over. I realized what we had wasn’t perfect, and that like every couple in the world, we had issues. After Julian’s kinky confession, I decided I needed some space to process.
As much as I loved Julian, and as much as it pained me to admit it, I couldn’t get behind his desires. And I had to be honest about it. Julian was courageous enough to be real with me, so I had to be real with him, too. I didn’t want to humiliate, spank or yell at him. I didn’t want what he wanted. And so with a lot of sadness, we broke up. At the end of the day, I realized I’m a feminist in the streets and a housewife in the sheets. Unfortunately, my boyfriend was also a housewife in the sheets.
The greatest gift of any relationship is that you get to learn and grow. Sexually, I had never thought of myself in terms of top or bottom, sub or dom, kinky or vanilla. And I still don’t like the idea of giving yourself a label. But I definitely learned that I’m more traditional than I thought. I’m not saying I want to hold hands for six months until we’re married and then have silent intercourse in the dark. Discovering your sexuality is a process, and you learn as you go. When it comes to sex, you can’t fake it. I mean, obviously you can—and some women do—but it’s definitely not the road to pleasure. If you want to connect with someone in bed, you have to be naked, in all ways. You have to be yourself, the real person. And that’s true intimacy.
The biggest lesson I took from my time with Julian can be summed up with a quote from one of my favorite American philosophers: “I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.” Amen.
By Anonymous
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