Indigo Gives Up Mediocrity

20 out of 10
Pairs really will with some delicious Earl Grey tea. It’s more refined, it’s energizing, and it’s definitely a treat.
During my last therapy appointment, I spent an extraordinary amount of time lamenting about my exes and the amount of labor I had put into our relationships. I talked about how much I gave and how much they took. I went over all the ways I exhausted myself for my partners. Confession Corner: This had a lot to do with my most recent ex.
This ex and I were together monogamously for about a year before moving in together. We found a house and made our space and everything was good for a few months. During this time, I tried very hard to establish a routine of airing problems we had. I wanted to get coffee every other week or so and talk about boundaries, cleaning, or problems. It was going to be a safe space. This way, I wouldn’t just be making lists of what I needed help with or needed changing, and he would feel safe to bring up his issues too. Well, this idea never got off the ground, and it took me a long time to figure out why. It was such a good idea, why wasn’t he excited about it?
Well, after living together for 9 months as his emotional support, financial support and all-around mother figure, I got tired of it. He made the bed once in the entire time we lived together. And the sheet was on inside out. He didn’t really plan meals. The meals he did plan went as far as meat with flavor and instant mashed potatoes. I did all the shared laundry like towels and sheets (though I made him wash his own clothes). I pushed him to find a better job, make goals, and generally grow as a person. Perhaps that was where I went wrong. He did not want to grow, and I should have accepted this and moved on. But I loved him, so fuck me, right?
Well, after 9 months of that travesty, I finally got fed up with it. Even though he offered emotional stability, and a shoulder to cry on, I still felt like I was a grown adult with a dependent. So I kicked his ass out of my house and we tried to make it work while he lived at his parents (because in that time, he had not saved money despite my paying both of our rents for several months BUT I DIGRESS). After his losing another job (number 6 in as many months), I got fed up, and broke it off completely. It was heart-breaking for me. I was hurt, and I was disappointed.
After two months of pain and hurt, we got back together. This probably would not have happened except that we had to be in touch because he owed me over $2000 and we were communicating about that regularly. But here we were again. Trying to make it work. We had been monogamous for so long, and I felt like I was just trapped in this stupidity. I had no sexual freedom to explore and all the talks we had about threesomes or others were fruitless. He was just never ready, and I got the feeling that he never would be. So I wanted to try polyamory. In a polyam dynamic, maybe I could feel less attached to him, and give myself some fucking freedom. He agreed to try it with me. But he also continued his trend of not wanting to communicate with me and we never established boundaries or determined what our brand of polyamory was. So when he suddenly had a new “partner” (not a date, but a partner), I got uncomfortable and scared. I tried really hard to communicate that I felt this way. I tried to explain that I was worried he couldn’t take care of himself, or me, and it felt awful that he pulled in someone else under those circumstances.
So he left me.
Yeah, let me write that again. He left me. For her. After months and dollars. After emotional nights and so much labor. After giving so much of myself to make this relationship work, he walked out. Because it was hard and suddenly I was asking too much.
Now, it’s been about 4 and a half months since then. I’m still hurting because this was my first long-term relationship. I’m hurting because it was really unfair. I’m still hurting because I didn’t set boundaries and maintain them. I’m still hurting because I was betrayed by myself and my partner. I have lost my faith in other humans, and now I need to rebuild it somehow.
What about the money, you ask? Well I’ll tell you. A few weeks ago, he sent the last payment (fucking FINALLY), and that’s why I need to write this. My last tenuous, stressful connection to this partner is gone. I get the chance to say “Payments complete. Bye.” This one moment in text form will be the last thing that he and I share.
The cleansing feeling of letting go after trying to hold on for so long and investing so much of myself is…complicated. On one hand, this was stable in its own morbid way. It was one person who was consistent (not something I have a lot). It was almost a comfortable groove, even if it became toxic in the end. It also had hope for so long. “Maybe it will get better. Maybe if we talk enough. Maybe if I go to therapy more. Maybe if I can make more money.” Well, maybe I just need to move the fuck on and stop dating people who need me to take care of them.
So I hopped back onto my OKCupid account. I started swiping on Tinder with more interest. And I met someone too! He was a great switch, good in bed, funny, a chef, emotionally dependent, told me loved me after one date, wanted me to meet his partner, consistently needed reassurance, and when I told him I needed space, he felt guilty and placed a lot of emotional baggage onto me. Now, I love people who ask for what they want. I love people who are open about needing reassurance and who cry when they need to. This guy did all of that. AND he had all these silent expectations that I would sweep up his emotions after he was done. He assumed I wanted to meet his partner and make agreements. He assumed I wanted to have this long term relationship. And I just…didn’t. With time, I probably would have, but the pressure completely drove me away.
So I went from one mediocre human needing a mother to another human needing a mother. Neither of them are inherently bad. But all these little things that make them mediocre add up and suddenly, I’m the parental unit they need to feel secure. I just thank the gods every day that somehow I was blessed with the strength of will to leave relationships I do not like, and that’s what happened (to some extent) in both cases. Things were bad, so I changed them.
I once heard a joke: Sex is like pizza. Even if it’s bad, it’s still pizza. I thought this was funny when I heard it because I imagined that sex would always be pretty good. After all, I’m good at sex. I applied this same way of thinking to relationships too. Even if a relationship is bad, hey, it’s still a relationship. As a result, I put up with mediocre people in my life. I put up with mediocre sex and effort.
Recently, I have started sleeping with more people semi-regularly. I have one bang buddy that is kind and intriguing. She’s made it clear from the beginning that her intentions are just to have good friendships with sex. I have another who has proven to be supportive and attentive to all my requests. I’ve moved on from things that aren’t fulfilling. I am single now, but I want to be in a relationship again. I like having someone consistent. But until a better human comes along, I’m going to wait.

Indigo is a Sex Diety

6 out of 10
Pairs nicely with a fruit wine. Sometimes, it’s great. You drink it, you love it. It’s sweet without being overwhelming. Other times, you drink it, but it’s cough syrup. And still other times, it’s too sour.
So in my life, I have had sex with 6 people. It doesn’t seem like a lot, I know. What I lack in diversity, I make up for in occurrence, I promise. Here’s some stats!

  • Three of them were boyfriends; One of them was a VERY DRUNK one night stand where nothing could happen because I had cotton mouth and no incentive to do better. Two were short-term partners who I only had sex with once.
  • All were cis-men (which still makes me so sad, and I’m working on changing my record).
  • Within the relationships each of them said “You are the best lay/blowjob/handjob/etc. I’ve had.” Some act or the whole experience stood out as a best.
  • After the relationships, I only kept in contact with two (the third just fell off the map); both of those maintain that I have been the best sex they’ve had.
  • In my recent relationship (of two years), I had sex an average of twice a week.

It’s worth knowing: Two points make a line, but it’s not set in stone. If you, dear reader, are hoping to bang me and that happens, please don’t put extra pressure on me. That is the number one way to ensure that I will not be at my best.
But if I follow this pattern (and I’m sure I will), then I will conclude that I’m fucking awesome at sex. To the point that both of these exes still masturbate to fantasies of me. So I asked them some questions about what made our sex so good. And I tried to narrow down how my sexual activities set me apart from others that they’ve had. I got some really great responses, and I want to share them here with you!
Some of it is genetic! So I’ll start with the bad news. Some of being a sex god in written into your genetics. I like sex a lot, and I can go for hours. I have no gag reflex (thank you, public school lunches). I don’t bleed in my cycle anymore. My labia are firm and large, helping to cushion, as well as prevent over-insertion. I have a high roof to my mouth, which lets me maneuver more during a blow job. (Apparently, I almost swallowed a sweet gherkin as a child. It’s very appropriate considering where I ended up, honestly.)  I also have a huge butt. If someone’s cock doesn’t want to go into a hole, I can just shove it between my cheeks and sort of…motorboat it to orgasm? It’s rare that this happens though because I’m a size kweeng.
I ask for what I want. That’s right. One ex told me that it was amazing how much confidence I had in asking for what I want. I had been dying to try rope play, so on our second interaction, I brought some rope. We tried it that night and it was amazing even though it was only our second sexual encounter. Maybe don’t follow this exact example. It was probably less than safe, logically speaking. Just because I turned out fine doesn’t mean it was a good idea. After all, kink and power play requires a lot of trust.
A direct quote: “It was impossible to refuse you anything because you knew just how to act and what to say.” My enthusiasm for new things, and willingness to ask for what I want was a huge turn on for this ex. Another ex said, “There was a confidence in your asking. I was domming a lot, but I always felt like you could take control if you wanted to. And that was somehow hot.”
I praised them with words and noises. My most recent ex told me that my praises were the best part of sex, which was backed up by this quote from my first ex: “There was passion and interplay. You were vocal.” So I definitely had a lot of responses to how I vocalize during sex. The ironic thing is that this is a skill I had to teach myself. I grew up with thin walls and my first sexual encounters were quiet, but lovely. And when a partner pointed this out, I actually worked on it. What I say and noises I make are actually more thought out than others believe. Those self-taught noises ended up being a favorite part of my sexuality.
I follow their lead. I have a specific memory of my first make-out session with a boy. We were sitting on my porch and I leaned in for the kiss. I saw he wasn’t going to, but I had decided that I wanted to make the fuck out with a human, so I did (to be clear, he was consenting, just awkward). I remember gently feeling how his lips moved and let him work where he wanted. By the end, he had focused almost entirely on my bottom lip, and I was free to explore his tongue and top lip. Occasionally, we would switch, but for the most part, it was easy to read each other.
Later, in my first blow job, I did something similar. Letting my lips and tongue move where they wanted to. I explored and listen. Eventually, I switched to my hands so I could examine his facial expressions, reading exactly what worked.
These are both examples of how I didn’t know someone and just followed their lead. As it turns out, we are communicating through body language at every second. Instead of guessing if something was right or wrong, I read the body language that was presented. In fact, sex is the only area that I trust myself with body language. It’s possible that this skill has been a part of my submissive identity since the dawn of my sexuality.
Some technique is involved. I’ll be honest. There’s a lot of enthusiasm and openness to be had with sex. But there are some techniques. “You ride a dick like it was your god damn job.” “The intercourse was always amazing.” “I’d be happy to fuck the shit out of you, but I need more of that [blow job] first.” These are all quotes from exes that talk about different acts which I was particularly good at.
The techniques I use for blow jobs feel pretty obvious to me. I start out slow and build up, both speed and suction. I use my tongue wherever I can, and I frequently get asked to deep throat, which I happily do because as stated above, I have no gag reflex. I recommend starting blow jobs with some over-the-pants work. Get your partner really worked up. If you’re with the type who gets undressed too fast, that’s okay! There are plenty of erogenous zones around the pelvis. Where the inside of the thighs meet the torso is my favorite because no one expects it. As for actually having the dick in your mouth, remember to slow down and breath sometimes. Giving them and yourself a break is a good idea. Both for asking what they like best and for building suspense.
When I’m riding someone, I focus on my hips and how they can rotate. I was a dance major for my two-year degree, so I’m hyper-aware of where my body is moving and I use flexibility to my advantage. If you want to replicate some of what I do, I suggest using your butt as a spring. Land on it gently, and use that cushion to give you some spring back up. Leaning forward or back can change the angle and by extension, the whole feel of the act. And my favorite move is to use circles. Circular motion can be better for stamina, as well as sensations.
What happens when I fail? Well, I recently had a sexual encounter where there was just no chemistry. I wanted to experience something, but it wasn’t there. I continued because the acts felt good, and I wouldn’t say I regret the encounter by any stretch. However, there was something with the pheromones that just made it hard for me to enjoy this person. The taste, the smell of them was all wrong for me. As a result, I wasn’t very giving. I was a needy brat and such a bottom. However, even this person wanted a second interaction. We are friends now, and not partners, but he asked if we might play sometimes. I didn’t say never, but I also turned him down. So apparently, even in my moments of self-described failure, I still receive so well that folx will want a second encounter.
I strive to make my sexual encounters full of enthusiasm. I choose my partners carefully, and I usually go out on one or two dates first to make sure my choices are justified and not forced. During the encounter, I try to make eye contact at points to see what’s going on in their heads. I listen to the noises that mean what I have tried was good (or bad). But primarily, I assume that I have very little technical prowess. As a result, I am forced to experiment on them. I find out first hand what they like and what they don’t. When I can get all these points just right, I love the way that my domly humans lose control at the moment they orgasm. I am a sex deity, and you can be too!